...

On the 20th I begin Music - Technical Production at Newcastle Tafe. I would love to be knowledgeable enough to translate the songs in my head.
Three friends, musicians I respect,  have asked me to collaborate with them in differing measures. It's really exciting.
I'm now sure of it - when I take steps to get things done, to progress, more opportunities come my way. I guess this is what Ben Franklin was alluding to when he said "God helps those who help themselves". If you believe in him, that is. Though I think it's a bit strange to deny the existence of one of America's founding fathers. ZANY!

Didn't do much today. The entire property was encased in a translucent orange dome, as if some leviathanic beast of the atmosphere had set up camp on a whim. It was not only inconvenient, but dangerous - as I watched from the window, the mailman seemed to burn his arm breaching the titian hemisphere and instead elected to deposit the mail at the safe end of our driveway. Unprofessional, perhaps, but he had braved the acidic miasma once more than I was prepared to.

I kept all doors and windows shut and burnt some old books.

If I could pay, in righteous fear
My penance for the prior year
I'd do it with an infant's haste
Something I have since misplaced.

I'm out of university. Doing some casual design work, never going on youth allowance ever again. I couldn't shake the sense of impending disaster at uni, and it was getting me down. But you knew that. It was hard to convince Mum, but getting work really helped sway her to my cause. Also, I saw my username in her google auto-fill so she's probably reading this.

Hi mum. When all my entries go private you will know I'm secretly wallowing in decadence. Impregnating wenches and the like. Hey, this is Swansea, I'm just being inconspicuous.

So I'm cleaning a few things up and looking at my plans. I have plans. I've always had plans, big ones - it's just been a matter of becoming someone who could see them through. I am thinking I will post something I have written here soon. You guys are all good writers, so you can unsheath your proverbial red pens and have at it, providing your more exciting and eventful lives don't preclude you from such things.

Also, I have no license. Whatsoever. Really need to go ahead with that.

P.S. last use of 'university' tag ever?

or lack thereof.

I so rarely buy new clothes. There's not enough motivation for me to do it. My sister said not taking care of your appearance is a sign of depression - maybe so, but in my case we can chalk it up to apathy. The only new clothes I've gotten in the last couple of years have been gifts. I know people who couldn't cope with that kind of thing, I have friends who buy new clothes weekly and don't even end up wearing some of them. Whatever, that's their prerogative. I personally have had a change of heart about that kind of thing lately. This isn't about competitive ideals or anything. The last few years have been somewhat transitional for me, and as such many of my values have shifted. I try to look decent, but there are better ways to spend the modicum of money I get than on clothes. Money is something else I value very little, but I try to use what I have in progressive ways. I put money into things that will help me move forward in one area or another, usually in regards to creativity. I can get a spare pair of shoes or I can buy a bass guitar from a friend and start teaching myself to play it. I can spend eighty dollars on a shirt or I can fly up to Bundaberg and spend some quality time with people I miss. Some things excite me more than others. I know the effect this has on some people's perception of me. Attitudes are fleeting, criticism is transitory. I don't want to be remembered for vests, and I don't want to use paragraph breaks in this entry.

I honestly didn't know what a Chinchilla was before I googled them, let alone a Chinchilla cat.

Look at this thing!



I want one! So cute. And it reminds me of another favourite cat of mine...


   NEDM

P.S. I'm 20 today... it's taken long enough!

I'll admit that I rarely concern myself with politics, Australian or otherwise. At the expense of my enjoyment of Newstopia, I'm just not interested. Having said this, I have taken at least a modicum of notice of the US Presidential Election shenanigans (no way I let that smarmy, flannelled little hipster claim that word).

In all honesty I'm glad Hillary's gone. I knew nothing of her particular policies or pertaining presidentiality, I could just tell she was a mad woman. Crazy, evil. On the edge. She's got that fierce Thatcherite aura that makes me uncomfortable.

Barack, however, seems like a genuine guy. I have actually had a gander at his stated solutions and similar specifics, and I like where he's coming from/hopefully going. He would have my (admittedly naive) vote. There are two observations I'd like to make, however.

1. He's a media darling. I think this overstates his popularity and paints him as trendy and hip, and I think this will turn off some demographics - even if it reels in others. The most sickening testament to his media dominance is the "Yes We Can" music video by Will.I.Am. Celebrities superimpose a melody over a Barack speech, I'm sure you've seen it.

You may not recall, but Will.I.Am (get it?) is also a member of the Black Eyed Peas, and is responsible for this catchy little stanza:

"It's funny how a man only thinks about the (beep)
You got a real big heart, but I'm looking at your (beep)
You got real big brains, but I'm looking at your (beep)
Girl, there ain't no pain in me looking at your (beep)"

I AM AT YOUR MERCY, MR. AM - PLEASE TELL ME WHO SHOULD RUN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

I shouldn't judge him, though. I'm probably being too hasty, I'm sure it's innocent enough...

It's funny how a man only thinks about the (Lord)
You got a real big heart, but I'm looking at your (Bible study notes)
You got real big brains, but I'm looking at your (trophy cabinet. Great work!)
Girl, there ain't no pain in me looking at your (art installation. Did this cost much?)

2. He's all promises. Promises are like milk, or redheads. They go bad if you leave them out too long. If he can deliver, excellent - and he's certainly making more appealing promises than the others. But I worry that his beacon of hope shines a little too bright, which is more likely to blind incoming ships than illuminate their course (how am I going with metaphors? Have I left enough room for "tumultuous sea of destiny?). I think his status as a pseudo-superhero is what makes this site so funny, and so spot-on.


And now that I've gotten another letter of the alphabet out of the way, I'd just like to say good luck to Mr. Barama, and I look forward to seeing him at my play.

"a person or thing detested or loathed: That subject is anathema to him"

I've never really been a hateful guy. Over the last few years I've developed some pretty strong opinions about certain things, though. For example, I hate all of the following:

Kanye West, The Wedge, the Australian Film Finance Corporation, licorice, allergies, The Galvatrons, Australian prices, the RIAA, Lily Allen, Chris Crocker, The Pussycat Dolls, Madonna, people who never call when they say they will (refer to "Build Me Up, Buttercup" by The Foundations), General Pants co, Crazy Frog, having long hair, people on the streets of Newcastle at night, parties where people play anything by Muscles, mobile subcription services, ads for mobile subscription services, people who sign up for mobile subscription services, iPod Touch, swarms of annoying kids liking things I like for all the wrong reasons (The Mighty Boosh, Summer Heights High, thank goodness Tim + Eric are so unappealing), broadband plans, Supre, crowds at Brand New shows, Amy Winehouse, people who think elitism > enjoying yourself, people who come into my domain and wax atheistic before telling me I force my beliefs (believe what you want, but don't be that guy), my sister buying orange juice (writing her name on it and deliberately leaving it in the fridge unotched for weeks), when bands release cover songs as singles, the number of transparent hipster zombies in Melbourne, Jeffree Starr, people pretending to like The Smiths, being judged by things I did when I was a kid, brainless animal rights activists, the fact that Christians suck at just about everything, the fact that we never gave our cat a name so she doesn't respond to anything, Judd Apatow movies, the Wayans Brothers (any of them), the fall of David Zucker (from Airplane to Scary Movie 4, wtf), NXFM, $85 live tickets, Electronic Arts, poor ADSL2+ coverage and having a life so banal that I can actually devote this much time to things I hate.

This meme looks like awesome fun.

I stole it almost verbatim from spaghedeity  .

1. It begins with a list of all 26 letters of the alphabet.

2. Comment with something for me to talk about that starts with one of those letters. Make me babble about anything — TV shows, actors, places, food, etc. Be creative.

3. One topic per letter — it's like a claims list! I will cross off letters as topics appear.

4. I will post a new post talking about all 26 topics given to me! I'll cross the letters off as they're claimed.

I don't have quite as many active friends as Aaron, so feel free to take multiple turns.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z</lj>

I'm a creative person. I can be very passionate, dangerously excitable at the smallest influence. My problem is that I want to have a go at everything. I want to make music, I want to write scripts, sure - but I also love the idea of writing short fiction, reviewing albums, getting into visual arts and the like. Now I've been seduced by the notion of 3D modelling and texturing. Unfortunately, the optimal software is about three thousand dollars American. Just like screenwriting software is four hundred, just like music software is over a thousand all up. Why does it cost so much for people to get started doing the things they're interested in? It seems backwards to me. It's as if prices are inflated to accommodate for inevitable software piracy - the same piracy caused by inflated prices. It's like some kind of cruel round object.

I know Vista is a controversial OS, but the time has come for me to give my bugged-out PC a clean slate. XP has served me well, but Microsoft stop selling it in 19 days. On top of this, I can't go past directX 9 without Vista and they've sorted out a lot of the compatibility issues (and will continue to).

What I want to know is this:

Do any of you have Vista? Is it worth it?

http://www.marcandangel.com/2008/03/23/the-30-most-satisfying-simple-pleasures-life-has-to-offer/

Got any to add?

I'm happy with the way things are going. The two week break came just in time, too. And despite the cyclical mundanity of current life, I'm excited. I'm holding on to good habits longer than ever, and dropping more bad ones. I feel like I live habitually, maybe we all do - and the key to fixing things up is regulating the habits that make up who we are. Perhaps I'm stating the painfully obvious, I don't know. I've often considered myself out of the loop, so to speak, when it comes to matters of common sense.

I want to write in this more, but my life seldom ventures out of the mundane. I've had a strong desire for some time to adventure more, like I did when I was young. Playing under the weeping willow at the end of our street in Tenambit, sneaking onto a neighbour's property at Coal Point under the false suspicion that they had stolen my bike, even waiting for falling stars at the bamboo park down the road from our Charlestown home. I realise that adventures like these no longer present themselves, I have to seek them out or even engineer them myself.

On top of that I feel like group values have changed - my friends no longer find fun in the same things we all used to. It seems like I unwittingly stepped into an age where people don't make their own fun, it has to be made for them - derived from a television screen or a bottle of Jack. I miss good conversation, pedestrian philosophy, the idea that all you need is the people you're with to enjoy yourself. Now everyone's waiting for some catalyst that always seems to be as far as the nearest ON button and won't wait for us.

I suppose this might correlate somehow with my intense fear of growing up before I'm ready. I never understand why people lie about their age, I have to hold onto it for dear life. I'm 20 this year, which shouldn't mean anything but feels like a harbinger of the banality of grown-up life. With any luck these fears are just a lump under the carpet of my erratic perception. I've said it before: life as a means to pay for itself is the most depressing notion ever. My difficulty is that while I want to hold onto my childhood post-mortem, I know that in some areas I have to grow up or I'll be stuck in some suspended man-child state.

The way I see it, I need two things.

Firstly, self-discipline. This is something I'm working on, with limited success. In some areas I've got it covered, in other areas I'm capable but not consistent, and in some areas I'm a wreck. The irony of self-discipline is that sometimes it takes some outside accountability.

Secondly, I need an adventure. I need to get away from this overbearing existence for a little while, to tune myself into a different frequency. I need to go somewhere I've never been and stay there until I'm confident I've bettered myself enough to do things right back in the real world, assuming I currently exist in it.


I've got some big ideas at the moment, and I know they're not beyond me, so I'll concentrate on them. Hopefully I can reveal more soon.

‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’
Stephen King
1993, Hodder and Stoughton

Perhaps the most enthusiastic piece of writing on the many pages of horror luminary Stephen King’s ‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’ short story collection is the blurb on the back cover. It describes the book as a ‘vast, many-chambered cave of a volume’ – which does not bode well, as citing length as a major selling point for literature doesn’t instill a great deal of faith in the reader. Okay blurb, it’s long, but is it good? I knew I wasn’t going to get the answers I needed from the exterior of the book, so I went ahead and read it.

Stephen King films are infamous in that the great majority of them are awful, with a few lauded exceptions such as ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ or my personal favourite, ‘Misery’. Conversely, his short stories are more frequently enjoyable with a small minority being duds. ‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’ opens with one of the aforementioned duds, ‘Dolan’s Cadillac’. This story of finely crafted revenge feels more like an exercise in tedium, as we follow every painstaking move of the physically and emotionally weathered protagonist. It’s not the worst in the collection, however – that distinction belongs to the short science fiction teleplay ‘Sorry, Right Number’ which drowns under its own plastic dialogue and clichéd structure.

I’ll be fair, though, considering I’m halfway through the review and haven’t really touched on the good. This collection is a lot of fun, which is all one should ever expect from King’s work. Many times in the stories he distorts or exaggerates some aspect of our often mundane lives to horrific effect, but the stronger stories are those not at all tethered to reality. The first example which comes to mind is ‘The Moving Finger’, the tale of a timid man who battles against an infinitely long, multi-jointed human finger which grows out of his bathroom sink and attacks him. Forgive the impending lack of eloquence, but that is freakin’ awesome. Another highlight is ‘Chattery Teeth’, which details the bloody consequences of a pair of novelty teeth turning predatory.

Another thing you should expect from this volume is diversity. Despite his ‘dime novel’ reputation, King is great at what he does and the book does in fact have its fair share of non-horrors. Apocalyptic quickie ‘The End of the Whole Mess’ employs the old deteriorating narrator trick a la ‘Flowers for Algernon’. The story won’t instill fear but certainly is capable of manipulating other emotions. Similarly you could be forgiven for letting ‘Brooklyn August’ take you by surprise – the vivid poem about a baseball game from King’s past closes the volume.

I can’t pick on the publisher’s blurb for not giving an accurate summation of the work contained within ‘Nightmares and Dreamscapes’. There is no back-cover sized way to highlight all the imagination and versatility one can bear witness to over the hundreds of pages. Whether or not you know what to expect from Stephen King, it would be a disservice to yourself to let a day of boredom pass you without a copy of this book to pass the time. Perhaps you’ll even find it enjoyable.

I got an email from EMI Australia's promotional division of sorts "Musichead" a couple of days ago. It was in response to my response to their call for writers. They assured me that "exciting opportunities" were on their way. I don't like strangers dictating what excites me, but this is great news. Sure, I may have sent that email nearly seven weeks ago, but that makes it all the more joyous. The whole opportunity was well out of my mind by now. It's a bittersweet thing, getting what you want after you've given up on it. Just ask my mother - though in her case it was seven years.

So I know many of you (I talk as if there are enough readers to specify a majority) are familiar with National Novel Writing Month in November, but is anyone doing Script Frenzy next month? I am, and I'm super excited. The goal is to write a 100 page script, much easier than NaNoWriMo. This is my arena, this is what I want to do for a living - so it works as fitting motivation. I'd love to write a screenplay but I'd also love to write a pilot to pitch to the ABC, I'll have to decide which. If I choose the TV series, I would be writing three or four episodes. If it got picked up by ABC and they used all four scripts (I'm aware we've crossed into pipe dream territory here), I'd be set to make a cool $24,000. While we're in the realm of fantasy, spec scripts (scripts pitched to studios by unknowns) have sold for up to four million dollars. That's ridiculous, but I wouldn't say no.

Anyone else doing script frenzy?

My own.

Reading the Intermdiate Creative Writing course outline left me feeling stuck at the centre of some Sisyphean education. It's exactly the same course as last semester. No, I haven't mistakenly enrolled in the same thing twice, though ultimately it would be no less fruitful. Not only the same texts, but the same readings from those texts. The same weekly subjects, the same creative tasks, the same assignments. I see no evidence as of yet that I will learn anything new this semester, or at least anything I can't find out for myself after a few bored afternoons on google. These are hardly new sentiments though.

The silver lining is that I will most likely pass the semester with flying colours, whatever that may mean.' Passing with flying colours' - too archaic for my hip ghetto-tuned lexicon. Gotta keep one ear to the streets, you know?

Speaking of getting with the program, have a look at a sample of one of the screenwriting readings I'm supposed to download and read, in its original form:



Sweet, only 18 more of those readings to finish before monday.

I guess in retrospect there isn't much to say about my holiday. Nothing worth recalling on paper anyway, albeit digital paper. It was just a middle class white kid having a good time with his nuclear family.

I have more words for Melbourne though. That is one attractive city, especially at night. One can only wonder how many millions of dollars have been put into the outdoor aesthetics alone. Even the train stations are visually appealing. It's a shame about the indie hipster community though. I basically stayed in flannel shirts the whole time, as a silent protest of sorts. My own little culture jam, you know? Stickin' it to the man. Though in this case 'the man' is an effeminate, long-haired beanpole of a yuppie with pants so tight he can't even slide his brand new Motorola into his pocket.

I can't say I've never fallen in with a subculture, but I suppose that's why I can recognise them as nothing more than a means of suspending your own identity crisis, more often than not.

I saw The Receiving End of Sirens at the Corner Hotel in Melbourne, their set was incredible (almost as incredible as their Soundwave set the next day) and afterwards I was lucky enough to run into their lead guitarist Nate and Casey Crescenzo, frontman of The Dear Hunter and Soundwave tourmate. To give you a little backstory, Casey was in TREOS but got kicked out after their first album. He told me he was on good terms with them though (believable enough considering he went to watch their show).

I don't want to be the guy who raves about some unknown band that only he cares about, but screw it. You know those bands that change people forever? The bands your parents get glassy-eyed reminiscing about? Everyone has their own. TREOS has been one of those for me - I could go through the all the pathos, the inspiration, all the stuff that's gone through my mind listening to them for the last two years, but you can use your imagination / reflect on your own experiences.

Anyway as I sat down opposite them in the upstairs bar to finish a conversation, I realised they were halfway through a 'deep and meaningful' regarding Casey leaving the band and their mutual respect for each others' music. They spoke candidly, appearing ignorant of my proximity (or perhaps just under the influence of alcohol), and I took the opportunity to not leave. I couldn't believe how close I was to people I've looked up to so much for all this time. I ended up talking with them about their music for a while, and after enough drinks, Nate tugged on my shirt and told me that he hadn't talked like that with his ex-bandmate in a year and a half. My friend Colin was standing beside me at this point, I think nagging me to leave. Then Nate dropped the bombshell.

"This is hard for me to say," he said, getting misty-eyed, "but after this tour, it's over." Well, I could certainly empathise with his grief. It was like Arrested Development getting cancelled all over again. The primary songwriter of the band, Brendan, was going to be a dad. Colin and I were devastated, but simultaneously in awe of our privilege - nobody else knew, as Nate pointed out. We were on the cusp of history. He told me to do what I wanted with the information, but for the most part this is it. He was completely drunk by that point, and as much as I want to be the "I told you so" guy in these circumstances, I don't want to submit it to absolutepunk.net or the like if he wouldn't have told me with a clear mind. He was pretty upset. So was I, admittedly.

The whole night felt very surreal. It still does.

If you want to hear their stuff try 'The Crop and the Pest' at the myspace link above. It's not really first-listen music but it's worth the time it takes. Though if you think it sucks, my story will lose any impact it might have had. I'll just say download the album 'The Earth Sings Mi Fa Mi' and listen to everything in its context. It's one of the most amazing things I have heard and continues to get better six months later. It's getting distributed over here soon.

/plug?

On Sunday I go to Malaysia for a holiday. After a week and a half there I head down to Melbourne and i'm back home on the 1st of March.
I'm starting to worry a bit, which is something I don't do. I haven't booked the Melbourne accommodation yet, and I have no shoes. I need shoes for a wedding tomorrow and of course the holiday. I also need to find a new subject to study at university because two subjects overlap. I have to change subjects and register for a new tutorial before I leave, because I get home after the semester has started.

I'm not confident about this semester, but I'm not scared. I'm just really keen to get out of there. It's expensive and I honestly don't learn a thing. Unfortunately I have proven myself all but efficient when I'm commitment-free. I really struggle to not be pathetic - I know that I can do the things I want to do and get myself out of university and into a career, but I just never take that first step. To be fair, I'm showing signs of improving. But to effectively demonstrate the new self discipline in my life, I must go to bed now.

Hopefully I will journal more. Let's see how much I can change in two weeks.

Last night I dreamed that my sister clawed at my ankle with her fingernails until she was just running her fingers through bloody grooves. I told her about it today and she said

"Cool."