a lie

it wasn't about you

ten bucks to freedom
i really think i have a problem

yay for saying things we don't mean

give me the blue pill
i want out
i don't want to
think
anymore.

we worship on saturday nights
the church of the bright lights
the lasers
and the subterranean bassline
but still the answers are always
just out of reach.

things to say to strangers in elevators:
"you look sad. do you want some Skittles? "
"i like your shirt. but i like what's inside of it even more."
"my dog died yesterday. He was delicious."
"hey, is that bourbon?"
"i never know what to say in these situations so i'm just going to kill you and bury your body on my parents' farm."
"yeah, so what if i'm only going up two floors? i have aggressive spino-musculaturerecession disorder. *limps out of elevator*"
"i brought a board game just in case this thing gets stuck again."
"i brought a condom just in case this thing gets stuck again. actually i brought two."
"when i was five years old i used to get punched in the head every day at school. sometimes i still wake up thinking there's something deeply and fundamentally wrong with me."
"carrots are a healthy and delicious snack."
"sometimes i like to sit in the bottom of the shower and think about my life until the hot water runs out. you should try it."
"i'm related to martin luther king."
"did you know barack obama is going to implement new world order? you should watch this crazy movie about it, man. it's at, like, tubgirl dot com."
"don't press number eight! I wired that up to set off the bomb!"

if microsoft word could write a poem by itself

there is no
ctrl-z command
for life. but
there is a ctrl-n,
always.
and an alt-F4.

if you had a teleport machine that worked by killing a kitten every time it teleported you, would you use it?





..yes?

YOU BASTARD.

i like pretty things.
like summer storms
rain on hot cement
and fifty-kiloton nuclear explosions

"Israel's settlements in Gaza are illegal AWESOME"
--Toilet graffiti in the student union building

some things go together well
like peanut butter and jam.
milk and cookies.
gin and crowbars?

???

kiss the world on the lips
& soak in the neon smile bath
watch the strobelight laser angels dance

On being 18

There is nothing wrong with getting old. A certain girl I know likes to say things like 'oh my god I can't believe how old we are.. we're 18.. I don't want to get old..' This is ridiculous and blatantly wrong in so many different ways. I like getting older. I haven't yet had a year on this earth without being amazed at the end of the year how much I've learned, how wrong I was about certain things, how fucking awesome and weird and shitty and fun it is to be me. Maybe if I stop getting this feeling it will be time to do a Hunter S. Thompson. I dunno. No way am I ready to be some old dude yelling at kids to get off my grass – it's just that getting old definitely gets a bad rap. I guess it's partly MTV conditioning. Modern society hammers into us that old = bad and new = good. Always, always, new = good, even when it's not new, just the 2009 model with a new CD player or whatever. “And here's the newwwwwwww single from A Mainstream Blanditude*!” goes the radio DJ whose station is owned by the same megamedia company who owns the label the band is on, and away we go again. Do you want fries with that chart-topper? Ketchup with that Rove Live appearance, sir?


Nah, just extra salt on my 3-song David Letterman set, bro. Thanks.


They say youth is wasted on the young. I'm not sure if it's being wasted on me. Some days more than others. I can never decide if I'm wasting my youth or using it the right way when I see someone's parents' once-pristine living room the morning after. Littered with empty bottles, pieces of half-eaten pizza. A fine film of chemical dust smothering everything from drunken fire extinguisher antics. I can't think of a better way of spending youth. Maybe I should take up curling. Or knitting. Competitive tiddlywinks. Sewing?


I think anyone who worries about getting old is stupid. Then again, those people probably don't realize how retarded they were back when they were 16. We were all dipshits. Especially me, with my dumbass middle-class-white-kid nihilism. Which turned, for a while, into something real and unpredictable, huge and scary. Frankenstein's monster. If you play with fire you get burnt and I have (had) the blisters to prove it. Lesson learned.

And I'm guilty of worrying about getting old, just like the rest of humanity. Five minutes of listening to an old woman ramble about her clock and her cat and the neighbours will put the knife of mortality in you . Fuck that. There's a difference between old and senile.


Christ knows what I'll think of my 18 year old's worldview when I'm 40. I can see myself reading this and thinking 'what the fuck did you know about that, you fucking idiotic 18-year-old, I wish I had a time machine so I could kick some sense into your stupid ass'. Getting older, man. It's a bitch.

Oh, and I don't reeeally think blogs are lame.


*This is actually not such a bad band name imo, considering it took half a second to think of.

You can't let the little pricks generation-gap you.
--Neuromancer, William Gibson. (1984)

My generation is cynical and jaded. Everyone knows that each generation thinks the next is going to the dogs ('Kids these days..') when the differences are not really all that huge. But I think we are not like our parents. In any way at all. And of course, every generation thinks that, but with us, the gap is massive. We are jaded. We are cynical. We know that everyone is making money somewhere. We have witnessed shocking, unspeakable things thanks to the internet, and laughed anyway. The one video with the guy with the glass disappearing into his anus and breaking? That's so last week. I can't see any good uses for this desensitization.. There is something different about us. We have no great cause, no Vietnam to protest against. Nobody cares. Apathy is rife, and we don't care, as long as we can still get on Xbox Live and call some guy in his basement in Tennessee a noob. We don't care, and we will continue not caring until we no longer can. Whenever that happens. I'm not saying it will. We are becoming one culture, youth culture. And you could say that it's always been like that, but with previous generations, kids here didn't have much idea of what was going on in the rest of the world. Kids in Canada or America, they look pretty much what I look like, right down to the hairstyles. That stuff used to take a while to get to places like NZ but now it's pretty much instant. One culture. McCulture. We have internet messageboards and chat rooms and YouTube and Google. We have the power to find out anything we want and still we don't use it like we should. Or we don't use it as much as we should. It must be such a weird thing to be Tim Berners-Lee, to wake up and find that the thing you created to swap projects with other scientists has become this huge, multiarmed, multiheaded anarchic monster capable of unspeakable things and wielding incredible power, like Godzilla wrecking everything in its path. A cacophony of voices, a mirror of everything human nature has to offer. A breeding ground for everything. My generation's lives will depend on the internet more than ever. And I am well and truly scared to think what the next generation are going to be like. They won't comprehend a life without instant communication. ..

I shouldn't blog drunk.

Oh god, shit on a stick, greeehhghoaidgogfg;lfk;g;fd

This is what I get for whinging about how pathetic my life is: actual shitty stuff starts to happen. On friday night I was walking to town with this girl and a group of guys in lambton quay came out of nowhere and started yelling shit at her. being the kind of girl she is, she yelled some shit back. Before I knew it one of them had her by the neck.. I politely said something like 'chill out, let her go' and I don't remember anything much after that except bleeding all over the ground and being weirdly concussed, like being on another planet. I couldn't even remember how the 'fight' (note my use of quotation marks since I didn't exactly fight back.. I'm shit with numbers but the words 'five on one' mean something to me) got started. Casualties: my lips, which probably needed stitches but are now healing up ok, and a necklace the girl's bf had given her, or something.

Then.. I decided, with my overwhelming love for humanity, that it was a good idea for me to share my music on my hostel's network. So the night before last I open up iTunes and start getting lots of those little, ominous exclamation marks that mean 'file moved or deleted'. Turns out someone either went 'cut, paste' instead of 'copy, paste' on my files or deliberately deleted them. I used to have 13 gigabytes of music and now I have three. Meanwhile, in the time it has taken for me to type this up and complain about my minuscule problems, 20 kids somewhere have died of starvation. Perspective's a bitch.. but I digress.
no more whinging I suppose. I guess it doesn't suit me, or I'm shit at it, or both.

There are a couple of ginger-haired south africans at my favourite table in the library, the one that has a view of the harbour so I can not do my work and watch planes cruise past over the water on their way to the airport and think about everything and nothing at once.. and other equally lame stuff. there is a cloud of rain up by lower/upper hutt/petone. it's just chilling with its homies. I would tell you what colour it is but I don't think there is a name for that colour. it's just... indescribable. sort of like rubbersmoke. but darker and mixed in with blue. awesome.

Hrrrrrrrrrrrrrmmmspewww.. Matt just tried to sneeze on me..

This video is awesome, they never let people stage dive at 'mainstream' (what a disgusting and irony-loaded word) concerts.. I have recently decided that grindcore/metal/hc just cures everything if you're sad:


come on.. headbang with me now.. haha.

*****************************************************************************

I think girls are probably an alien species, in possession of strange and hypnotic powers. or maybe just certain girls. not all of them. especially not the one I just overheard telling her friend 'There should be like, wireless laptop chargers. That would be soooooo much easier... '

Find Your Own Fucking Generational Icon

This is something I've never been able to understand. People from my generation, between fifteen and twenty years old now, and their obsession with Kurt Cobain. He died when you were about four, retards. He doesn't belong to you! He'd probably be offended to know that some little shithead who was running around with no pants on or playing with Lego when he kissed the shotgun wants him to rest in peace or paid fifty dollars for a shirt with his name on it. His music is just music. I can stand it, some of the songs are great. But don't go around acting like you're all heartbroken that he's gone, because guess what: you missed out. He belongs to a different generation – the people who are 25 or 30 now. We can interact with them, because we share some frames of reference, like grunge and the Simpsons and Family Guy and computers. But we can't go stealing their icons. Some sociologists say the line between my generation and the next one should be based on if the members can remember the planes on September 11th. Sounds fine to me – I can remember the black dots that were actually people falling from the windows, the horrible and beautiful orange blossoming fire. But my generation has no icon – not yet anyway. The closest thing approaching one is Eminem, and some of us were nine or ten when he got famous. Not quite old enough to know. But I digress. The whole reason Cobain did himself in was because he was sick of being labeled a spokesman for a bunch of kids he didn't want to be a spokesman for, so it's kind of ironic that his ghost is still hanging around now, a dead martyr. LEAVE KURT ALONE.

after hours and hours of scanning news websites i bring you this:

So this girl in France is suing a tattoo artist for drawing 56 stars instead of the three she claims she asked for. She says she went to sleep as she did not want to 'feel the pain' of the tattoo. The tattoo artist denies it and says he doesn't use drugs or hypnosis and that she was awake the whole time, and it was only when her dad saw the stars that she freaked out:

But the best part of the whole story is that the tattoo artist looks like he would eat your entire family and then use your little sister's skull as a bowl for his weetbix:



Well, he's probably benign as fuck and goes to bed early every night, but never mind. I bet if you were to ask him he'd say that he enjoys having a good amount of society recoil and say 'oh my God' when they see him. Think about it. It's about as punk as you can get. He's just misunderstood.

And so is the girl, really. She asked for three stars and he gave her a three. In stars:

I hope Chompy (or whatever his name is) wins the lawsuit. Seriously. Who the fuck falls asleep when a tiny needle is penetrating their skin 100 times a second? Stupid bitch. She should have photoshopped it onto her face or something first to check what it looked like. And it actually looks OK. She has a sort of constellation thing going on there. If she was to wear something coneshaped on her face all the time (i'm thinking maybe a party hat protruding forwards or a muzzle) her face would be like the universal online symbol for i lub you lots adn lots dahling:

Oh yeah, and Barack Obama swatted a fly in the middle of an interview then carried on like nothing happened, confirming my suspicions that he's a total badass:


it's also clear to me the fly was, in fact, NOT a terrorist fly, but a fly which was planned, trained and funded by the U.S. Government. It's obvious, really. I can tell from how the fly falls to the ground that it was a controlled drop. REAL FLIES DON'T DROP THAT WAY WHEN YOU KILL THEM MAN. Check out the youtube links of similar flies falling here and here then come back and tell me I'm wrong. I don't want to say too much more about the motives of the Knights Templar U.S. Government in such an unsecure location, but it has something to do with stimulating the global economy.. shit. I better go.

Well I gave up on wordpress because nobody else is on it, despite it having a way cooler/sexier layout and set of formatting tools. Never mind.

Don't binge drink or you will wake up in bed with a sexy labrador.


COOL GUISE. IF YOU NEED ME I'll BE IN MY LAB. LIKE ACTUALLY IN IT.

Everyone has a funny-as-fuck satirical blog these days so I'll just have to be myself. Maybe I'll be unintentionally satirical because I'm such an idiot. On that note I just did a 'which twilight character are YOU?' quiz on facebook (shut up, it's three in the morning and nobody else is awake) and apparently I'm Bella. Word..
I've just suspended all hate of those lame books/movies. it's just not worth the effort anymore.

A few nights ago I was awake at 4.30am (again) and some guy pulled into the carpark next door in a van. He got out and started having a ciggie and I swear he saw me watching him, even though my light was off. Then he disappeared inside the building.. I have no idea what he was doing in there so early.

My life is uninteresting at the moment, hence I have nothing to write about, really. Well I did just write possibly the worst exam I have done since 5th form today, for Philosophy 104. Which I no longer have to do, thank god. But yeah.. Everyone should sit in an exam they don't care about (but which is still costing them/their parents money..) and have a good think about their lives every now and then. It's healthy.