September 23, 2009
Was going through some old back up discs, and found this old story I wrote for my old flatmate’s zine. So instead of the usual ill-informed rants and self-righteous proclamations, you get an actual narrative to read. With characters and everything.
She walked briskly down the footpath, trying to appear more confident than she actually was. Her eyes glanced around to see if anyone noticed her. In reality, it was more to see that people did not notice her. She preferred to remain inconspicuous; another faceless, shapeless entity. As she looked around someone caught her eye. Someone she recognized. Someone she thought she knew. Someone she had known. They had nothing worth being called a history, but it was enough to create an awkwardness. She wanted to say hello, wanted to acknowledge him, and have him acknowledge her. Who knew where it could lead? A simple hello had led them a long way before. She pondered the significance of those two short syllables as her footsteps advanced. As they drew nearer to each other, recognition seemed increasingly inescapable. Acknowledgement was all she wanted. To not recognize someone was excusable, forgivable. But to be recognized and ignored caused nothing but pain.
They played cat and mouse with their eyes. Snatching glances to see if the other was looking at them, without being caught. As the metres shrank between them there were now few choices left for them. He could smile, say hi- anything in greeting- or he could ignore her. She could do the same. She could also make eye contact and hold it, compelling him to take the plunge. Their childish game ended when their eyes locked. The panic clenched hard in her stomach, squeezing it like an old sponge. He knew she recognized him and she knew he recognized her. They were now seconds away from passing each other. Both now realized that their choices had been made. There was nothing else they could do. They gave each other timid, unsure, half-smiles. Half-smiles that sent a message that they didn’t really want to talk to each other, that they were just being polite. The message couldn’t be more wrong for her. She longed to talk to him, to at least build up something that lay somewhere between an acquaintance and a friendship. Anything to dispel the awkwardness that smothered them whenever they chanced to be close. But none of this got through the closed lipped, sad little smile she gave. As they passed each other his mouth half opened and one word escaped his lips. Barely even a word. More just a sound.
“Hey”.
“Hey.” She replied, just as half-heartedly.
They passed and continued on their way. Both full of regret, neither looked back.
September 22, 2009
Seriously. LOOK at these numbers. This is all down to Lady Gaga. Out of the 15,679 shown, approximately 15,673 came from google searches for our favourite pantless hermaphrodite. Oh god, why did I write hermaphrodite. Now I’m going to get all the porn searches too… What’s that? Porn has some of the highest traffic on the internet?…PORN PORN PORN PORN PORN PORN TITTIES LADY GAGA PORN.
Tune in next week to see numbers in the MILLIONS.
September 22, 2009
OK first I’m really really sorry Soph and Jez and Jess and Holly. I know I said I’d write more once I quit my job, and then I wrote once. I suck.
But now I have five applications to fill out for cadetships due on Friday and suddenly I feel compelled to write on the Aquarium again! Strange, huh.
Right. So the biggest wanker I ever met worked at a publishing office. In a publishing office you have the writing people, and the designing people. There really isn’t any rivalry. At all. But Wanker (a writer) thought there should be I guess. I don’t know. There’s a lot about Wanker I didn’t understand.
I feel mean calling him Wanker now. So let’s change his name to Lamb Shank. It sounds endearing, but still has that ‘ank’ sound in there.
One day Lamb Shank came up to my desk and said ‘Hel, who do you reckon’s smarter? Writers or designers?’
‘Um’, I replied ‘I don’t know. They both do different things…’
‘Yeah, but writers have to know stuff, and need a good vocabulary.’ said Lamb Shank.
‘Well, yeah I guess so. But designers have to use all the computer programs and techy stuff that writers don’t.’
Lamb Shank visibly puffed his chest and replied ‘Oh but I can do that shit. I know all that techy stuff too. ‘
‘OK Lamb Shank. You’re smarter than every other person in this office.’ (I was being sarcastic, but I guess I wasn’t clear enough)
“Yeah.” said Lamb Shank, puffing up again. “yeah I am!”
And he turned and strutted back to his office.
August 3, 2009
I used to do data entry at a financial company. It was really dull, but it paid well and my Dad worked there which meant I could get a lift in to town and sleep the whole way. I also got lunch shouted for me quite often.
One of our co-workers, on the Sales Team, was a young, ex-professional sportsman who had climbed mountains and done lots of other adventurous things.
He and his buddies liked to go to the Establishment at night. For those that know of this place, you already have a fair idea of our co-worker’s personality. For those that don’t, it is/was a very upmarket, corporate place generally filled with people wearing the “latest office fashion”, and talking about money and gym memberships.
When The Boys would get in the next morning, they’d walk in to the office, point at their friend and say something like “maaaaate! how pissed were YOU last night!!” and then spend the rest of the morning talking about how ridiculously hungover they are. Because, you know, they got DRUNK last night, how cool is that.
Anyway, so the sportsman comes in on a typical morning, and has this tale to tell. It started like the usual boring dross.
“Maaate. I’m so hungover. I was at the Establishment last night…”
So far so normal….
“It was Ladies’ Night. I tell ya man, wall to wall women. Could barely get inside.”
It’s a slight varation on the theme, but still pretty standard.
“I walked in the door, and they were all over me. Mate they were clawing at me!”
Okaaay…
“Seriously man, by the time I got to the bar, my shirt was half open, it was untucked, dude… I felt like a gazelle among the lions!”
Happy Monday everyone.
July 10, 2009
Make your own album.
I don’t know if you can post up in comments, but if you can’t, email your albums to hel_davo@hotmail.com and I’ll put them up.
The Instructions:
1 – Go to “wikipedia.” Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
2 – Go to “Random quotations”
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3 – Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
This is mine. I wish I was in a band so I could actually make this album…..
July 7, 2009
Gotta love the design team at smh.com. Because when you’re one of the countries most respected news websites, you must get a bit sick of being high-brow all the time. Which is why I think they went for some subtle puerile humour and chose this photo of Nate Myles to go with that headline..
June 29, 2009
They put an add on the internet but it wasn’t finished yet! Whoops!
Luckily I saw it, and now I’ve fixed it up for them. They wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong information!
June 26, 2009
Primal scream rocks
Blur- song 2
Portishead-glory box
Radiohead- paranoid android
White stripes- 7 nation army
The verve- bitter sweet symphony
Toots and the Maytals- Funky Kingston
Mars volta- the widow
U2-Sunday Bloody Sunday
Paul Kelly and the Coloured Girls- Dumb Things
Silverchair- Tomorrow
Should I get rid of Paranoid Android because everyone’s already voting for it anyway?
