kjingo.

Beanbags

2009-06-16T21:17:00.002+10:00

Beanbags take a surprising amount of beans.

I could draw a lovely analogy about life and beans and something about bags but I really can't be bothered.

2009-06-03T22:47:00.001+10:00

Sleep is overrated.

I must.

Music

2009-05-24T13:57:00.002+10:00

Recently added:

Morning Musume (J-pop; i have no excuse)
Radiohead; The Bends
The Rapture; Echos
Sting; Fields of Gold
The Hush Sound; Goodbye Blues
Hercules and Love Affair: self-titled
Doves; The Last Broadcast
Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist; OST
Girl Talk; Night Ripper
Conor Oberst & The Mystic Valley Band; Outer South
Panda Bear; Person Pitch
Blue King Brown; Stand Up
Animal Collective; Strawberry Jam
Scandal; Yah! Yah! Yah! Hello Scandal!
Fleet Foxes; self-titled
Fleet Foxes; Fleet Foxes EP
Lupe Fiasco; The Cool
No Age; Nouns
Umphrey's McGee; Mantis
Vivian Girls; self titled
Yeah Yeah Yeahs; It's Blitz
Lykke Li: Youth Novel
The Grates; Teeth Lost, Hearts Won

Sleep

2009-05-01T00:11:00.002+10:00

"You look tired" she said with a tone that suggested a deep concern, "what's wrong?"
"No nothing, just the usual lack of sleep, you know how it is" I replied, trying to brush it off.
"No seriously, what's wrong?"
I couldn't tell her.

How can I tell her that I spent the last 2 hours online listening to youtube recordings of Ryuichi Sakamoto's beautiful musical scores while reading wiki articles about Thundercats and Dinoriders and how even though Dinoriders lasted 8 short episodes, it was revolutionary for its time and it is hopefully getting remade into a CGI blockbuster in eastern europe.

How?

It's impossible. Best to pretend I'm just scared of living.

<100 words

2008-12-30T00:59:00.002+11:00

I've found that I can't write anything longer than 100 words on this thing.

Might give the hand writing thing a shot.

Random Conversations

2008-12-11T22:33:00.003+11:00

"How about 'blood drops'?"
"Blood drops? How morbid." I respond. She always had a knack of saying the most random things, it was probably why I liked to talk to her so much.
"Yeah, I love it."

Blood drops, I'm sure she loved it. Personally, I blame it all on that 'Twilight' rubbish.

I'd been trying for a while to get back into my writing, but a complete lack of inspiration was hampering my progress. And work had been seeping into every vestige of my life to such an extent that I was finding it near impossible to find some quiet time for my writing. It was in a passing conversation with her that brought all this up.

"Blood drops just sounds so cool, you know? You can talk about a murder, or a vampire or something like that" she suggested, with a gleam in her eye. Again with the 'Twilight' nonsense.

"Mmm yeh, I could," I began, "but its not really my style you know?" I like a more random angle, preferably one without death and blood.

Basking in the Glory

2008-12-11T22:15:00.003+11:00

With the shackles that was my CA exam thrown to the wayside, I have returned triumphant.

But I've run out of things to say.

Yeh, second thoughts are often the smartest

2008-11-05T00:03:00.002+11:00

True it is past midnight on what I often deem a 'school night' but I'm thinking of staying here for a bit and testing the waters.

On second thoughts, I should go to bed.

Nothingness

2008-11-04T23:55:00.002+11:00

Its the beginning that Simon always found difficult. The endings were often out of his control so he did not fear it, nor the middle part which always came naturally to him. No, it was just the beginnings.

"Beginnings are tough" he said to me once, "because there's no baseline to refer off, no standard norm that you can gauge off"

I could see the method in his thoughts, as little as I know of these things I understood the helplessness of starting afresh.

However, unlike myself, Simon pushed through it more often than not. "Beginnings are tough to be sure, but you gotta get through it, and then you're sweet."

I just nodded and drank another beer.

Drunken monkeys and ladders to nowhere.

2008-11-03T00:20:00.002+11:00

Monkeys see no need for ladders.

Ladders are a waste of wood, wood that could be used by monkeys to make tiny wooden monkey rocking chairs.

Monkeys see a great need for tiny wooden monkey rocking chairs.

A ladder to a monkey is an insult to their ability to climb things. Its akin to giving a dolphin swimming flippers, or a bird a parachute 'just in case'.

So when monkeys get drunk (which is mostly on a wednesday night) and see a ladder, they naturally look for ways to destroy them.

Its this little tibbet of information that was not conveyed to me last wednesday night as I walked home from the hardware store with my new 2 metre ladder. If I had known that wednesday night was a big no-no for walking around with a ladder I would've held off for day. Or at least gotten a smaller step ladder that was easier to hide.

Alas I did not.

So its late wednesday night, I'd just purchased a lovely 2 metre ladder from the 24hr kmart with the high hopes of using it the next day to visit the top of my next door neighbour's lemon tree when I saw them.

Or more precisely, not see them.

These monkeys were almost ninja like in movement. Not like segal but rather jean claude. And I think that the fact that they were drunk made them even more agile and ninja-like. I would describe it as getting into a confrontation with chuck norris, you just don't know what hit you until you wake up the next day in a room without any clothes on and a strong desire for a 2.5 litre bottle of diet coke.

It happened so fast. A drunk ninja monkey from the left, a drunk ninja monkey from the right and a even drunker ninja monkey from behind. Like a drunken ninja thief from the night, I was left battered and bruised and sans my ladder.

I hate drunken ninja monkeys.

The milk bit is somewhat important.

2008-11-03T00:13:00.003+11:00

So this weekend I was told that I am not a humorous man. And like the extremely self confident man that I am, I naturally let that statement destroy my ego.

My ego is in tiny tiny pieces on the floor.

Nonetheless I can only go out there and prove the wrong. If i must go and research 1001 knock knock jokes, its what I must do. If I must go and learn humorous anecdotes about monkeys and fairy bread, its what I must do. If I must become wittier, more sharp and biting, its what I must do.

I must also buy milk.

Tiny tiny pieces on the floor I tell you.

Just give me time.

2008-11-02T23:55:00.004+11:00

"Have you ever wanted to pack it all up and just leave?"
"Pack it all up and leave? Where would we go? What would we do?"
"Just be free" she says, a twinkle in her eye betrays her excitement, "we could explore the world, do whatever we want"
"But what about..." he begins,
"Forget about it" she says sharply, the eyes now dark with anger "forget I even asked".
She gets up and walks to the kitchen to make a coffee, the coffee isn't as important and her need to get out of the room. Away from him.
It wasn't supposed to be like this, she thinks, she had plans. To see the world, find her place in life.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
He follows her to the kitchen, confused with what just happened but at least aware that she is upset.
"You ok babe? What's wrong?" as he places his hand softly on her waist.
"Forget about it, I"m fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes".

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

I really do need thicker blinds

2008-10-01T22:49:00.002+10:00

I'm eagerly waiting for daylight savings to kick in this weekend for a number of reasons. Firstly, I've found that sunlight has begun to enter my room at the ungodly hour of 6.30am, a good hour before I need to be awake. Secondly, I do enjoy riding home in sunlight instead of complete darkness. And thirdly, daylight savings means summer which means Riverland.

God I miss long Friday nights at Riverland.

Disconnected

2008-09-25T22:59:00.003+10:00

I'm feeling an amazing disconnect with other people at the moment.

Its quite disconcerting to be frank, and it doesn't sit well with me.

Maybe its just me.

Listen and Read

2008-09-21T12:50:00.003+10:00

Bout time of a music/book update;

Music
- The Ting Tings; We Started Nothing
- Triple J; Like A Verson Vol 4
- Tegan & Sara; The Con
- The Very Best Jazz Remixs
- New Pornographers; Twin Cinema
- Damien Rice; O

Books
- Haruki Murakami; After Dark
- Haruki Murakami; The Elephant Vanishes
- Raymond Carver; What We Talk About When We Talk About Love
- Truman Capote; Breakfast at Tiffany's
- Michael Chabon; The Amazing Adventures of Kaviler & Clay
- Jonathan Tropper; Everything Changes
- Jonathan Safran Foer; Everything is Illuminated

Obviously I've gone a little crazy with the reading...

Saturday Office Rambling

2008-09-20T16:42:00.003+10:00

Its the totality of things that plague my mind that is most annoying.

Each specific issue on its own is mind-numbingly simple but when jumbled together and without clear identification, it's just a mess.

It's like my work station; a mess of paper and files and pens, pencils, calculators and everything in between.

The congestion is a window to my busy soul.

I should start cleaning.

The Wind

2008-09-15T23:50:00.002+10:00

The wind reminds him of the past.

Not the present, naturally, it is hard to be reminded of what is happening that very instance. And by that token, it doesn't remind him of the future.

So its the past, the past where all things land.

touche.

2008-09-14T23:52:00.002+10:00

from here.

Fingernails.

2008-09-01T21:19:00.002+10:00

The fingernail on my left index finger is longer than all my other ones.

This would be a fascinating subject if not for the fact that it makes it very annoying to type on a keyboard. And if you know me, you know that I live to type on keyboard.

So I've cut it. But in an exercise that is clearly discriminatory to my left index finger, I've decided not to cut any of my other ones.

Lets see what happens.

Random Haiku.

2008-08-22T00:14:00.002+10:00

Tomato juice
Black coffee without sugar
Oh, for a proper breakfast.

Late friday night
The light in my soul awakes
For empty promises

Electric lights hum
Yellow line into darkness
We wait together.

The year I stole things.

2008-08-21T23:37:00.003+10:00

2003 was the year that I stole things.

I had just turned 20 years old and into my second year of what would turn out to be five long years of university.

And I stole.

It was mostly small trivial things; an apple from the market stall while the grocer was preoccupied opening boxes of mandarins, the morning newspaper from the neighbour's front yard in the early morning, a shot of tequila from a bar top, the cutlery left on the outside table of a swanky restaurant or even a free ride on the rickety trams down Swanston street.

It was all taken for nothing. And it felt good.

In the summer I mostly stole fruit. The stone fruits are a lovely size for concealment and the benefits were instant and delicious. Towards the winter months I began to venture into the large shopping complexes, walking in and out of stores and absently pocketing random objects. Thicker jackets and layers of clothing always made things easier. And then came spring.

It was in spring that I got caught.

I don't think she even cared.

Now

2008-08-21T23:30:00.002+10:00

"So what now?"
"We continue on, we do what we always do."
"But what if thats not enough? What then?"
"Then we push on. We don't stop moving. We look out for each other."

The title before would be more appropriate.

2008-08-20T00:40:00.002+10:00

A mouse's dream of horses and other unrelated matters.

Its 12.01 when J gets the first sms.

10 minutes later and the message count is 15. J sighs, this can't be good news.

"J, she ran off, no good. Need to find her. Help. PC"
"J, whered she go?? where are u??? PC"
"She was soo hot...."
"J man, I got her shoe, I got an idea. PC"

He found her shoe? He has an idea? This definitely cannot be good news.

And so begins yet another misadventure of J's life as Prince Charming's mate.

.

As per usual, M wakes up with the rising sun. However, unlike normal days M wakes up today with an unexplainable desire to eat hay.

Mice don't like to eat hay.

M is confused.

.

J met PC back in college, PC was studying the regal duties required by him while J was waxing lyrical about sunsets and soft petals falling off a snow covered rose while getting through barrel after barrel of mulled wine.

Naturally they hit it off wonderfully.

J in his often drunken haze refused to provide to PC the respect and reverence that is demanded, and PC reveled in the fact that someone treated him as a nobody.

Also PC loved his mulled wine. And the ladies.

.

M tries to remember the previous night. He remembers hunting for food in the courtyard of the house. He remembers a flash of light. He remember hooves.

He finds some breadcrumbs on the kitchen floor and nibbles at it in thought.

.

J finds PC on the sofa, just left of the jewel encrusted solid gold royal seats of his parents. They'd found the sofa discharged on the side of the street last year on one of their drunken stumbles back to the castle and decided that there was still some life in it yet.

"J where have u been?"
"Hey PC, sorry dude, was out at the back with that Jess chick, why are you holding a glass shoe?"

A mouse's dream of horses and other unrelated matters.

2008-08-19T23:11:00.002+10:00

Its nearly midnight on a Tuesday night that I find myself sitting alone in my one bedroom flat. Its cold, not unbearably so, but cold enough for me to notice it. So there I am, Miles Davis is playing quietly from my stereo in the other cornoer of the room and I'm sitting in front of an empty screen thinking about Cinderella.

"Cinderella?" Steve the Parrot says, "That old broad, why you thinking about her?"

I don't know. It must be me.

The things I do for snow.

2008-08-13T21:52:00.002+10:00

So for some reason, I'm back in the office.