An Ode To Vomit:

Cellophane noodles in my mouth,
Slither down my throat to the south,
but I realise too late, and with remorse,
that my food doth follow a reciprocal course.

Raffle's B-day Rampage

Once more with many skills sublime,
you've written a rhyme better than mine.
After 3 days of pondering in lands afar,
Rex said "Just do it" so here I are.
On to the matter of this event every year,
that's filled with sensual joy and birth related cheer.
May you have fun and much joyous applause,
on the one day I hear you can break many laws.
So I'll end this with distant hugging and clutching,
and a kilo of love and inappropriate touching.

A splattering of thoughts

• Girls are far better at 1) remembering to take photos 2) posing for photos AND they are useful in the sense that you can take photos for no reason but can blame it on them. Classic
• Why is it that mossies will attack you, non stop, for about 20 minutes, then suddenly give up on you? Have I run outta blood? Where's the commitment? Where's the love?
• Why have I signed myself up to a night of reading dive manuals when the level of humidity is like that time Zeus hot-boxed his outhouse by boiling up all his succubis?
• Why do no websites have the powerful search tools I required to properly use them?
• I think I've lost of my lyrical prowess, what small amount I had to begin with.
• My hair is out of control and the number one culprit in my water loss problems.
• Get funky on the dance floor and show be a better bop than the bop I got...
• "Don't bangkok too hard" - Dan Dan Icelandic Dan
  

Do you remember that time,

when I was like .... and you were like.... and after an small interuption we had kippers, and then Sid Vicious was like "Put that spoon down, I've had enough". To which we replied, between smirks and jovial glances, "Oh Sid, your ecentric ways are so devoid of the post-hardcore mind set that we all expect, pass the scones". Though unbeknownst to us, the scones had run out part way through the last century, and a flurry of resulting conflict confirmed this, leaving much of the devastation we see before us right now. No matter, we carried on our merry way, dropping coins to the paupers and conducting informed debates with passing monks on the very crux of the buddhist way of life, in relation to globalisation and the current decline in economic tides. No sooner had we achieved, what in our own subjective mindset appeared to be, enlightenment, than we became hidiously paranoid in terms of the whole juxtaposition of the situation, and lightly refused dessert.

Luckily times have changed, but I still look back with an odd envy at the naive boy I used to be.

What do you do when your mum texts you saying "Wish I could see a sea horse" in a despondent manner, well as despondent as you can be via the medium of textual communications. I dunno what you do, but what I do is write a blog entry to detach myself from the situation, allowing a more rational outlook. And then I decide I want steak for dinner. Good O.

I think I had something witty and pulsating to say, which would be expected as I just had some coffee, but my typie fingers are devoid of any literary splurges, so I must bid you a Jew or two.

Drunken Shinanigans

Well I'm diasterously behind on my blog, but I thought I'd relay an interesting night Joff and I participated in last night, once more involving alcohol. And unlike in Byron Bay it did not conclude with us drawing giant knobs on the beach.

The night started like any other, wasting more money eating out in a nice local restaurant, a chinese this time, v.yummy. We then cruised in a pub across the road, which was pretty empty, and Joff played $5 on the pokies there, which lasted a good length of time. Our hunt for live music then began but for some reason we just settled for a bar with seats outside. We had one, then moved on to an awesome bar which was playing linkin park, papa roach, etc though we were the only peeps in there and it shut at 10. After swift drinking and rockin out, we found yet another bar that had live music, but they stopped playing nearly as soon as we entered the premises! The general consensus was a more long term hunt for live music, which only resulted in nearly paying $50 to go in some club/gig place. Luckily, after talking to a bouncer we found a club to go to.

A gay club.

Great fun though! and we partied to the wee hours, including getting Joff his first shot ever! Sambuca in the face. We took some humourous photos with some guys and girls, before leaving due to excessive alcohol consumption. It seemed cunning to then go to Maccy D's and get some form of food. After which we agreed we were too drunk to go back to hostel and should walk around a bit, which we did until we got to the river side. I promptly lay down, messiah stylie, and fell asleep for 2 minutes, and once Joff woke me up I had apparently lost the last hour of memory instantly. So much so that I decided I wanted Maccy D's not realising we'd already been. Needless to say I got 20 chicken nuggets and all was well.

Grand.

I'm not actually dead, and neither is this blog

"Please don't forget about me" aroused my blog "I'll always exist in the hearts of your readers and the twinkling in the eye of the child who playfully uses a racist remark as a form of witty retort"

"Pah" I ejaculated furiously "our readers care not for us anymore, with a lack of updates and a stagnent smell in the air, all is lost"

"You lie" my blog grinded

"True."

And then I regained conciousness from smashing my skull upon the ocean's bed.

Wasting words on lower cases and capitals

I miss blogging on this blog. I miss not being 20 light years behind on my other blog. I'm sure I used to have a greater grip on the English language, and I could mold it to my very will. Though maybe not. This post has little purpose except to remind you I exist. I'm going for chinese. I expect to drink my weight in Chinese Tea. And Brand New is still and will always be the greatest band in the world. Yes sir.

In related news, Rex and I have decided to start an indie alt-rock post-hardcore band. When I get back. We'll woo the girls with our deep lyrics, hard hitting palm-muted power chords, floppy hair, and general emotonic undertones.

Raffle can supply the musical talent we might need by our 3rd album. Good show.

In related news, I'm collecting various graffeti I've seen under beds and in toilets, current winner is:

The red red robin,
goes bob bob bobbing along,
Shoot the Bastard,
Shoot the Bastard,
Shoot Shoot Shoot the Bastard.

Neutral Milk Hotel

Note to Self: Remember that band, and their album "In the Aeroplane Over The Sea". Good boy.

I can safely say this trip is the best thing I've decided to do ever. I think in just the 1.5 weeks I've been away, so far I've grown more confident in myself and had a great time just meeting people. though as always with me, I always falter if I want anything more than el friendshipio. Curse my stupid hair and leaving everything important too late, no matter how many chances I might get. Anyway, I have no time for such emo tom-foolery

I'm not Australien!

Why do I always get embarrassed and ashamed when people ask what degrees I did and what grades I got? I fear people then see past my cool, suave exterior and think I'm a geek. It's as if I was recompiling my kernal or something... Also, some people of the British persuasion think I'm well spoken! Obviously I don't speak like a chav and I sometimes use crazy words, but my enunciation is shizer!.

While I am on a little rant, I'd like to point out that people really should consider other mp3 players rather than just default choosing ipods! I can understand shuffles and nanos because they are most excellent, but everyone turns their nose up at my zen, even though every feature (apart from its street cred) is better than an ipod! Death to all.

My forearms rock your world.

Strange phondoola

Dammit, all white people look the same, I'm having trouble remembering who I know and who I don't. I cam across the idea of using far2narf as a "behind the scenes" look at my trip. Luckily, I remembered that this humble blog has little to no purpose, and discard the idea. You may remember a cool guy who looked like Will Smith, well he was actually quite a ladies man + perv. Talking about getting the ladies to play pool and bend over etc. Damn that prince is fresh. Apparently, the women drink the light Fiji Gold beer, as otherwise they get "too fat". I promptly decided not to bring up that I drank the light beer... same alcohol though.

"Fuck you man" gesticulated Archie, "Fuck the whole freakin' system".

Lucy gazed on, an air of bemused wonderment descended, as the strange scene unfolded before them. Neither of them really understanding the political ramifications of such an action, they both began to sidle carefully along the charred remnants of the space submarine. After what seemed like an eternity of incandescent shuffling, they reached the edge of the raptor enclosure and found a vacant tumble dryer. In unspoken unison, they threw both sleeveless sextants in the shute and ran to the nearest jeti.

A loud glare echoed throughout the chamber as the cool breeze ruffled through Lucy's already disheveled hair.

"I'm scared" recycled Archie, emitting an intense table like appearance, arousing Lucy at the most inconvenient moment. The unicycle felt unsteady,

"I can't keep this up much longer" she whimpered.

"Then stop, I'm not sure why you're on that contraption anyway, you're complicating matters" disenfranchised Archie, ignoring his own simultaneous rodent fetish.

"Enough" whispered the lead Raptor, as the world tore at the seams, ripping the beauty of the night with it....

Halp! A spy from the planet cyclops has invaded our city!

No worries though, via an intrepid series of counter-intelligence he was apprehended. In related news, I finally got a hair cut. Unfortunately, when I asked for a "surfer" hair cut, I fear he thought I said a "special" hair cut. Ah well, I got blantantly brand blinded in Boots today as I bought some crazy gel type hair controlling device that had the word surf on it. I also bought half of the shop, which was impressive, as well as some cool new Vans shoes. Not quite the trekking shoes I was probably meant to be *Shrugs*

Once more, England has reverse knee dropped me as normal, just when I'm about to leave to other shores, it pulls out an amazingly beautiful day, and I'm like darn cakes. On top of that I was driving back from blue water as the sun set around me in a cloudless sky with Lostprophets on. Tug the heartstrings why don't you?

So I still haven't began packing, and I have also to watch the footie match tonight, and possibly Torchwood if I can somehow record it/download it in time. Oh how time mocks me with it's linearity or a similar word that means something I meant to mean but didn't. I started learning mandarin a bit last night, was quite interesting, using Pimsleur which is all audio based and now on my magic mp3 player. Oh shit. That reminds me, need to sort out all manner of electrical goods, including upgrading firmware/OS on my nokia. *breaths deeply*

Nah it's all good. Dinner time (T minus 22 hours 45min).

And so the excitement insomnia begins

Which is to be expected really, unfortunately, I really need my beauty sleep as I have a list of at least 30 things I need to acquire from bluewater tomorrow, but not before I finally get my long flowing locks cut. At the moment I'm closely following the Democratic primaries in the US as it seems quite exciting, for politics. For some reason I want Obama to beat Clinton, but this is founded on no solid facts or any deep reasoning. The race is quite lively, but I think Clinton will get through super Tuesday still in the lead, though hopefully it will be tight.

In even more enthralling escapades in my life, I'm bluetoothing some humourous videos from the party at the weekend on to my lappy, which I can than upload to facebook, or youtube, or something equally poor quality. I was going to post this on wandering tectonics but it's not related to my travel enough. And I have more freedom here to say things like "baby sex Olympics" and other equally quasi-shocking randomocities.

The wind is rather windy tonight as well, and all manner of doors are banging, and mice are howling, which makes it very hard to sleep at all. Stupid excitement. Or maybe it's more worry at things I have to do before I go. Pah. Down with you all.

Wandering Tectonics

As I stare wistfully through the internet, my face illuminated by the constant glow of two liquid crystal displays, I twitch slightly as I repress the realisation that my preparation for my soon to commence epic journey, is minimalistic at best. In keeping with tradition, I've failed to keep track of bookings, purchased items, pieces of paper, and tasks yet to be accomplished. With classic off-putting, I've left everything to the last day, including having my golden locks lopped off savagely by a stranger.

No fear, as always, blogging maintains it's position at the top of my priorities, and so with no further ado I unveil my new travel blog:

Wandering Tectonics
(http://wanderingtectonics.blogspot.com)

Similar to last time, the number of entries on this blog will be minimal, with most of my emotastic thoughts and strangely erogenous experiences being crowbared into this new home for the next 6 months. Don't forget to keep checking here as well though, you never know when my shenanigans will erupt into an X-rated descriptive nightmare.

Estimated Time of Commencement: 7th February - 17:00.

Stars and Apostle for Hustle

very good gig, after warming up with some Virtual Fighter action with the one who originates from Iceland, we slammed into the gig. Apostle for Hustle were cool, lead dude was funny and a bit crazy, not sure I'd get their album though. Stars were very good, the main singer guy appeared hammered/stoned, but it appeared just that he was feeling the music so much he was tripping a bit. Awesome. Flowers were even thrown from the decorations that littered the stage, good fun.

Rather than playing football

We decided to save our souls via a spoons farmhouse breakfast. Unlike normal people, I failed to sleep just about the whole night, so I was a walking, semi-talking Zombie. After returning to Shing's after an emotion fuelled parting with Dan and Tracey.

After Tom nearly dying from sleep deprivation we headed off out to Sloane Square for a coffee or a cake, which failed repeatedly and even amounted to us storming out of a bar/restaurant/cafe for ignoring us. We finally ended up in Pizza Express for a yummy amount of pizza and chocolate glory in our mouths. After which, Rex and I retired to our special train home.

Very good weekend, just massive tiredness all over the shop. This also made me chuckle:
Spot the humourousness or lose.

Rubiks Cube Party

or the 12356th episode in our "homo-erotic party" saga. Twas very very good funs. Rex, Ad and I vanquished the greater london transport network to arrive successfully in the London at an early time, where we finished getting various presents for Shing. Mainly the voucher for her crazy crazy bead shop, which is in an awesome little segment of London called 7 dials. Obviously Ad hated the area, where as me and Rex found it cool and quaint. We pottered around in Covent Garden as well before wandering back to Victoria via the power of our legs, and destruction of souls. A handy starbucks on the way helped, before entering the abode of Shing.

Soon mine and rexxor's hair was being turned blue by some concoction of chemicals, and Dan and Tracey arrived in a flurry. We pootled down to the play pool for a bit before heading to the shakespeare for a particularly awful set of meals, including my fish and chips that had literally been drowned in fat/grease. Yum.

After that we said bye bye to Tracey, and headed back to prepare ourselves for the party of brightly coloured fashion accessories. It was similar to morphing into power rangers, but without the hot pink one. In a surprise act of intelligence, Dan, Rex and I had only brought spirits, instead of the usual hangover instigating beer. Though we did get 2 bottles of vodka and 1 of Whiskey, though by the end of the night only managed the first litre bottle of vodka. Though to be fair we drank vast quantities of punch, cunningly distributed in one of Shing's presents, a cocktail fountain. I not sure how to describe the whole evening, people ended up in various states of undress, mainly Rex and Dan, who foolishly traded underwear covering devices for thin air it would appear. Luckily I used swift of hand, mild deception, and middle man tactics to become entirely yellow, which made me look like a 90s Raver. Good times. Near the end, Rex, Dan, sometimes Ad and I, started singing the Grand Old Duke of York, utilising a well known Rugby drinking game, good fun, though astoundingly loud.

As the night drew to the close, new Dan played far too much 80s, and our souls were devoured, especially as 8 or so people smooshed into Shing's room, and new Dan kept talking.

And talking.

And talking. Luckily interspersed with my razor sharp dry and sticky wit... *ahem*...

Derren Brown "The System" spoilers

It's no secret that I have a man crush on Derren Brown, for he is my demi-god. As normal, Derren Brown is one step ahead of all us mere mortals. He just did a special where he predicts horse races perfectly using "The System"

He gets this random woman to place bets, first anonymously via emailed/texted tips, and she films her self, and obviously she wins every single time, 5 times in a row. The last time she actually went to the race course and he reveals himself to her. He's all like "Hey gal, next time I want you to bet LOADS, come back next week with monies" and she's all like "k".

You have to understand she's a single parent with no money,and has to work 2 jobs just to make ends meet. So obviously she takes out a 3 grand loan and borrows a grand from her dad *headdesk*, to bet on the last race. Though it's all a bit more sneaky than you first think, turns out, for the first 5 races, Derren got nearly 8000 people, and split them up evenly, so eventually one person is bound to have one all 5 in a row, then the next one he's just going to guess.

He places the bet for her, comes back, and explains it all to her, and it goes down a bit like this but not really at all:

she's like OH SHIT FOOL
and they watch the race
and the horse they bet on loses
and she's like TIT FUCK
and then derren is like SHIT MAN, we fucked that up.... oh wait I forgot how awesome I am, check your ticket
and it's all like KABLAM!!! you won 13 grand
as obviously it turns out he managed to predict the race. Or some other more rational trick.

In other news I'm reading his Tricks of the Mind book at the moment, it's extremely excellent. Go buy it.