Pilsner for me

I’m sorry, I wrote that last post after a phone conversation I never expected to have, which was nothing like I expected it’s unexpected existence to be.

I was completely lost for words. I suppose everyone must feel that mouth sock some time. Rare for this little über-verbose monkey though.

First fist of under varsity today. Lurvit.

I’m currently really digging:
The Arcade Fire – Funeral
My Morning Jacket – Z
Placebo – that new ‘Song to Say Goodbye’ single
The Black Keys – No Fun, only on the vinyl version of The Big Come Up.

Currently not shoveling my lack of a love life, and the increasingly melodramatic, not groundbreaking or challenging anymore OC.

Pilsner for me.

Mellow Drama

I don’t know what to say.

Barometer Plummets

The storm rolls in! Cresting, furtive waves of pounding power, wreaks thunderous damage, sowing what we reap.

Somewhat like my love life.

I bought two pairs of shoes yesterday. Tangent pending. Also, Lawrence has heard this story, so he can tune out.
Normally shoe buying is something I don’t think about. At the beginning of every school year I’ve needed larger or less scrappy shoes so me and my mum have gone out and bought me a new pair of nice black shoes and some all purpose sneakers.
Well, February has almost gone and it occurred to me that there was no more school to go back to, thus no shoes to be bought for me. But my old shoes were still too small and scrappy!
I actually had to shop and purchase shoes that were stylish and practical and it felt like a major rite of passage. Buying shoes.

Come to think of it I’ve always had a thing about shoes. Stealing shoes… that’s my unforgivable crime. They do it to that kid in About a Boy… and in that horrid technicolour Wizard of Oz. Something else too… I forget. It’s wrong.

Shoes are for protecting feet but also perhaps concealing? Smile like you mean it. There’s a GREAT song. A little bit… how the Smiths would be if they were new millennium instead of 80’s.

Perhaps another post pos-OC. But most likely not, I have my driving test tomorrow, might not pass, don’t kid me, but there wasn’t another until July so I’m giving it a reasonable shot.
I’ll talk about university some time… when I’m a little over the… um… shock.

Never Again, except this time.

“And so tonight,” he cries from his weary slant across an African patterned futon, “we write!”

Ah, the biting poisoned knife of “Every Rose has its Thorns.” See my wordplay there? Only the few, I suppose, all the sadder. Allow me to elaborate, with, since I can think of no better, an example from the aforementioned.
     And well I heard you found somebody new,
     And that I never meant that much to you,
     Well to hear that hurts me deep inside,
     And to see you cuts me like a knife

Yes, fascinating shit isn’t it. That’s the eighties for you. But it rings hard really, especially if you can sing it like W.Axl Rose could.

I hate it, I HATE it, I really, really hate it. Out of the fucking blue. People you don’t need, things you shouldn’t think, suddenly all those words you wanted to say, or promised you’d repress, it’s all one big clusterfuck again. Let’s not get on the ride again mummy, it WAS too scary for me, you were right.
I don’t want to see myself from above one more time, because you have to be honest about what you see when it’s a big picture. You can’t lie about the really large pictures, we’re not talking 2x2 meters either. We’re talking 100 years wide. And I can see it already, rolling back under my retina as I lurch away from the laptop screen.
It’s too late, I’m back in the loop. There’s no way off the rollercoaster once that little padded lock shunts down.
I’m really rightly in for it.

Fuck you. I love you. Goodbye.

Walking with the ghost

An all wheel drive system that senses when to engage… 20% more… if only sex were as easy as the new Rav 4.

See, I should be a copywriter, none of this pansy driving through mountains shit.

I’m a little… post OC.
Oh god, my secret shame revealed.
It leaves you in quite the lull. Maybe I should be invulnerable, I am invulnerable. Just over lengths of time.

I have been worried about the present. The future is so far away and I have done what I have done, I make no apologies for that, but right now I could be changing what I’m doing, I could be a better or worse person, those decisions are now, that person is me, I’m not thinking about what I’ll become. Which means in this instant I’m not talking to people I could, not writing the sort of wonderful evocative things you want, to dance around you with little shitfest multi-syllable biting cynic’s eyes. I’m just lonely, a little tired, sitting in front of a computer screen and changing nothing, becoming nothing, reflecting over what? This? Hardly. Something like Valentines Day.

Hope you had a good one.

Where are you? And what are you not or almost doing? And who are you not doing it with? I feel for you.

I feel bad now. Much worse than before.
See what I did with my present? See why I’m worried about the now? Even now I’m making myself feel worse.
It’s just a spiky cycle hike, I can’t do it.

Let me wallow in the past, that feels more self-indulgent, but it’s the easy way out. Well… the other easy way out.

The Last Bastion

*licks*

There are words written down on hidden things in dark places that are not meant to be read. They are the words of our other times, not our triumphs but of our unwanted illnesses and our sweet dying dancers.
Sometimes we open these cupboards and we get what we want, and enhancement of our emotion, confirmation that it really does all suck and we might as well die, stop the confusing endless question of this reality.
But then it’s picnics and whence-you-friendship all over again and we buy bigger padlocks to shut ourselves out. We say, “Well, I’ve learnt that lesson, I won’t open these doors again,” and every day we find ourselves kicking a few inches more sand off the raw earth where we buried the keys.
Do NOT read back the old words, they will send you digging. But we write the words anyway. I do still hurt. Of course I still hurt. We all still hurt and you’re lying if you tear the pages out of that book and truly burn them. We can never quite bring the matches to that final act. So lonesome they lie, tucked under loose floorboard equivalents, romantic notions of forgotten memories, the sad oxymoron.
I wish there was just a way, though, to buy you a copy of that book like I would buy you any other. To confirm somehow that every now and again you  are reading the same pages I do, and still look up at the same stars with that same split moment before the door snaps back shut and the padlock does its job.

To wonder… if in your weaker (or better) moments… if you break too.

A Tubi Dogy

I am a spandex WARRIOR!

Ok, so Big Day Out, here’s a quick review before I collapse off to get some vittles.

Stripes – what? You think you’re gonna get a fucking bad word out of me here? Utterly the best; better than expectations. Wildly arty bitchin.

Iggy – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH Oh man is he saggy. Saggy, daggy and an excellent performer. Lone saxophonist? What the fuck Iggy? But otherwise the spinning, the howling, the hips, the amps up to 11 and a half, it was everything one could have expected from one of the wildest men of that punk era. 1969… ahhahaha… that was an interesting one. Scared some fucking kiddie Franny ferdy girls.

Ferdypants – We all know this story, they are the height of cool all the way down to the neat trousers and fat sunglasses. They made me bop. Highlight of the set was the triplicate drumming. Brilliant synch.

The Living End – “oooh we’re not Greenday but we’re close enough to still rock” Yeah they are saved by the stand up bass and the wealth of back catalogue.

Kings of Leon – Yee haw! And also majorly rockin.

Magic Numbers – second best set I caught on the day, I was front row and they are soooo tight. Jangly boppy utterly eye-closingly love type of mucial conglomeration. Melodica helped. Beards Helped. Feel good vibe and genuine feeling helped.

Sarah Blasko – She is SOOOOOO beautiful. Unbelievable beautiful. Sing ok too. :D

Wolfmother – WOOO ROCK! Very busy crowd. Couldn’t see that much. Lots of afro. Not hard to see that.

The Subways – Hehehehe there are still new bands making arrogant Brit-rock. These ones were unique for having a very hot bassist and a good son list without a big following. Still nothing really new here.

The Grates – I LOVE how their lead singer can sound consistently like she’s having an orgasm with every note. She’s a feckin engaging performer, knew how to tease and work a crowd, songs were catchy, they have a unique somewhat empty but vocally-led style, A bit more range would be nice. This band still impressed me a LOT though.

Greenhornes – Brink on the funk-metal! Drummer did some vocals. Interesting. Watch them.

Youth Group – They sing that cover of that song. YOU KNOW THE ONE. Yeah. They also do a really great outro, their guitarist can dance and have a song “Someone Else’s Dream” that’s not a cover and also rocks.