when in doubt, bitch to your trusted friends.

"when, if not now? who, if not you?"

- winston churchill

thanks for that miss s.

zach braff rok

i love this movie. i've seen it a few times already, but every time it's just as refreshing and heart warming: garden state

andrew largeman: let's just talk about good stuff.
sam: good stuff?
andrew largeman: yeah. glass half full shit. what do you got?
sam: i got a little buzz. i got that.
[laughs]
sam: what you got?
andrew largeman: i got a little buzz going
[pauses]
andrew largeman: and i like you.
[sam, embarassed, giggles]
andrew largeman: so there's that. i guess i have that.

moments from the past

there are some things that seem to be universal. like the annoyment towards nature's little creatures when they decide to cheer up your day but have the worst possible timing.

here's two encounters, about 10 years and ~15,000 km apart:

easter camping trip with deviant's family.

it had been a BIG night. everyone around the campfire was absolutely off their titts. you know, the usual stuff: i suffered a slight concussion due to a portable camping chair insident, devian't lil bro mistook citronella oil for cooking oil while setting up the bbq [insert here quite the impressive bonfire] and deviant set his stepmum on fire while solving the citronella insident. so it was all good fun with pointing and laughing aplenty.

after marinading himself in a very impressive amount of alcohol and other substances, poor lil deviant had passed out by the campfire. at which stage the lil siblings had decided that it would in fact be a great idea to turn him into a living bush.

i was already sleeping at the back of the ute at this point. i woke up to the back hatch slamming open and this borderline conscious 'bush' crawling in and passing out next to me. quite amusing i tell you.

fast forward to next morning.

i wake up, slightly hungover, but considering the amounts of alcohol consumed the previous night, i was counting myself incredibly lucky to be in such a good shape.

i opened the back hatch carefully to get some fresh air in the back of the car. i was entertained by watching the wallabies wandering around our camp, when a magpie lands right behind our car and starts its horrendous serenade.

after a tune or few the dead mass next to me suddenly came alive, lifted its bushy head facing the bird and screamed: 'PISS OFF!!!'.

i nearly pissed myself pointing and laughing.

see, about ten years prior, i had witnessed a disturbingly similar event:

it was a beautiful day, lunchtime, early in the summer. sun was shining, birds were singing and nothing breaking the serenity of the perfect laid back sunday.

i was sitting in the backyard with my mum, enjoying the warming rays of the sun and i don't think anyone had even said a word for a few hours or so. we're both too relaxed to even read the books we had brought out with us and instead ended up entertaining ourselves by watching the cat hunting butterflies in mum's flower bench.

suddenly, the neighbour's upstairs window flew open with a loud SLAM. an overweight, hairy, bearded ugly old man appeared at the window. he directed a homicidal glare towards the little birds singing in the nearby tree and screamed: 'TSIRP, TSIRP, PERRRRRKELE!!!' (aussie equivalent would prolly be 'TWEET, TWEET, YA FUCKEN CUNT!!!')

just as quickly as the phenomenon appeared, the window slammed shut again and left behind a complete silence. the poor birds were too busy shitting themselves to tweet another tune.

we stared at the window in stunned silence, then glanced at each other and cracked up uncontrollably. it's no exaggeration if i say that we were pissing ourselves laughing for the following 20 mins or so.

ah, the wonders of nature.

bloke·a·hol·ic

adj.

1. related to or resulting from the combination of spending time with male friends and consuming large quantities of alcohol while viewing sport events on television.
2. containing or preserved in a juvenile state, also known as lack of backbone and/or refusal to grow up.
3. suffering from bloke-a-holism.

n.

a person who is compulsively drawn to blokey behaviour ie. excess alcohol consumption, television broadcasts of major sport events and the ever-present company of the dedicated 'manfriend'.

purrrr-fect

you know, as much as i hate the winter and the cold weather, it's not all bad. see, snuggles rock my lil world.

most of the year in sydney is just simply too hot to snuggle at night. hot and sweaty can be all good while steamy action, but when you need to sleep it just does not work.

nothing in the world compares to snuggling up under a doona to escape the cold. the crisp air in the room outside the doona and the incredibly cosy body heat of that someone next to you under the doona.

...maybe the reason i've hated sydney during cold weather is that never before have i had the chance to wrap myself around such a yummy heater before?

to a chick with too much balls for my own good, it's an unexpected luxury to feel like something tiny and fragile being protected by someone big and strong.

maybe this winter will be good after all...

impressed

wow. the boy has truly proven himself worthy!

not only did he book his house telly for the night so that i could watch finland wipe the eurovision floor with sweden (i don't have a telly) but he also showed incredible stamina by sitting through the entire 210mins of the eurovision broadcast with me! such a good boy.

and man did lordi ROK.

today i'm so very proud for the fact that i'm a finn. we rok. iso aika.

HARD - ROCK - HALLELUJAH!

'yeh i knew you were fucked, but i didn't realise the entire country was!'

- mate's comment on our eurovision entry

un-fucken-believable!

(photo from iltasanomat.fi)

finland won the eurovision! holy-fucken-shit! this is the day.

look, non-finn bunnies, you simply cannot comprehend what this means.

see, eurovision, by default, has been this painful annual event which year after year has proved just how badly finland sucks.

in the 51 years that the contest has been held, our best ever outcome has been the 6th place in 1973. otherwise we were always one of the last names on the list. usually the last.

then this year, we decide to fuck it and send this hard rock monster band on fire to athens. and we win!

fucken fantastic!

“you know, we are meat eaters in a vegetarian café,” said mr. lordi when asked how the band feels to be in eurovision.

“kids love us. we look like their toys.”

so yeh, as i already started raving on about finnish music yesterday, here's some more: lordi - hard rock hallelujah

--

abba they ain't: eurovision's new kings (smh.com.au)

fuck finnish music kicks arse

ok bunnies, i'm officially spellbound by this song: apocalyptica feat. ville valo and lauri ylönen - bittersweet

i can't stop listening to it. just so incredibly beautiful.

the song is a collaboration between three great finnish bands: apocalyptica is a band of three (what happened to the fourth? i thought there was four?) classically trained guys playing metal with cellos. ville valo is the singer of him and lauri ylönen the singer of the rasmus.

come on, give it a go. you know you want to...

a little victory in the world of an encumbered art student: i finished my new video.

fly, my pretties, fly!

strangeland

you know those books that you just can't put down? yeh. this was one.

started reading it yesterday. needed something to keep me entertained while waiting for my video exporting attempts to reveal their results. just finished it. well, both: the video and the book.

it is borderline scary how easy it is for me to relate to emin's writing. i mean, don't get me wrong, i am fortunate enough not to have gone through anything even remotely as traumatic as she has. yet still, i can't help but relate to how she thinks and feels.

must be a chick-with-balls thing.

"masculinity, manhood. what makes a man a man? as a woman at the dawn of mid-life, i can confess to having learned, for sure, that i have more testosterone in my right foot than most men have surging in their entire bodies.
you don't have to be born with balls to have balls. there is spunk and there is mental spunk, and it's the latter that gets me up in the mornings, that makes me change my life, that moves the world around.
...
a man should never think with his dick, and as he gets older, he should have learned to control the direction in which his spunk flies. mental as well as physical. there is nothing more unattractive than a man who is sexually weak."

- tracey emin - strangeland

procrastination - part 2

a slight hangover, too much to do and not enough time to do it in. same old story with the same old result: here i am again.

--

i've been very busy and deviant's been very blokey so it has proven challenging to sync our free time lately. luckily we were able to pencil each other in last night.

we picked up the usual (beers for him and white wine for me) on our way to his place and proceeded to consume the lot in record time. i for one got pretty fucken sloshed.

we were just sitting outside and talking about everything. i learned a little bit more about his past as well as revealed a little bit more of mine. i even confessed the existence of this blog to him. 'wow. i'm used to being bagged out, but not quite that publicly...' heh. didn't promise to tell him the address tho. not quite yet.

he had a revelation earlier that day. he had decided to quit smoking. which means that he has to quit drinking alcohol AND coffee as well. naturally this coming from him was quite the shocking statement. and as i stared at him in stunned silence, he added: 'now the problem is that i need to find a new habit to substitute these three old bad ones with. i was thinking about sex. that's always a very efficient distraction... and i was hoping you'd help me with that...'

now if this means that every time he'd have a ciggie, he'll jump me instead - fucken count me in! never before have i seen chainsmoking in such a positive light.

mind you i did promise to punch him in the face if (well, let's be realistic here: when) he gets cranky. he did promise to whack himself out on nicotine patches to take the edge off the withdrawals.

this will surely be an interesting project to witness.

procrastination

frig, here we go again. so much to do, yet once again i rather spend my limited time ranting to you bunnies. *deep sigh*

--

i'm finding it very difficult to concentrate on my uni work. too much shit on my mind. and yes, once again it's people bullshit. well, not just any people - the boy.

deviant. he really is fantastic. but as everyone, he has his faults too. i am not good with faults. not my own any more than other people's.

pet hates. i can't stand forgotten/cancelled plans and i have a very strong aversion to being taken for granted. lack of respect scores very high on the list too. pet hates trigger my reject reflex instantly.

'that's it. i'm done - behind the barn, off you go.'

i told him off for the first time yesterday. mind you, for a reason. the boy scored a special bonus combination of pet hates at one go to boil the kettle over. and there went my hand hovering over the eject button.

however his response was perfect. he listened, he heard and he apologized. and what's most important, he offered to make it better right away. and he did. he did everything just right. he was wonderful and won me over again. let's see.

i can't help it. i've tried my best and have done great so far. however, now i'm slowly starting to freak out. i guess spending time with him has reached that first critical point. as much as i hate defining things, time is starting to define this for us.

this is the time when i usually bolt.

however, i don't think i want to. not this time. deviant really is wonderful. but i don't know if i can stop myself. staying would require being brave. i'm so much better at being safe. safe, cold and distant licking my self-inflicted wounds.

--

now that i met you nothing's the same
it's not going to be it ever again
if you stay or walk away
if i'm off or if i'm brave

stina nordenstam - sharon and hope

sometimes it's all around you | sometimes that love surrounds you | and even gone it's with you | tasting of salt | he learned about love the hard way | she learned that nothing would stay | they knew all about love and nothing | sharon and hope | she says i like to kiss you | he says you'd better not | he's on the brink of loving | she's on the brink of falling | maybe a month in spain could do it for you | or a fridge of cocaine could do it | those are not ways to do it | for sharon and hope | now that i met you nothing's the same | it's not going to be it ever again | if you stay or walk away | if i'm off or if i'm brave | sometimes it's all around you | sometimes that love surrounds you | we have it if we want to | me sharon you hope.

performances, white wine and a sore arse

hmmm... bunnies, i think i have discovered yet another rule when it comes to contemporary art.

you might already be aware of my 3 minute rule when it comes to video art? see, i hate video art. naturally i also identify myself as a video artist. but the way i see it, there has to be a pretty fucken good reason for a video work exceed 3 minutes. long video works shit me to no end.

of course this only includes videos that are screened on a reel that you have to sit through from beginning to the end. looping video installations and duration pieces are a whole different breed and do not fall under this thumb rule.

--

the new rule? well, last night i went to see audio performances. again, the length was a killer. especially since i was sitting on my arse on friggen concrete floor. owwie.

the first act i found interesting, the second mesmerizing. it was almost as if the sounds he was making were taking form only in my head. it felt like instead of coming out of his instrument, the sound culminated in the centre of my head and reached my ears from inside. freaky i tell you. the last one? meh. started out funny and had good bits, but overall too long. way too long.

but yeh: keep it short unless you can create a trancelike state for the spectator. my arse started hurting after 15-20 mins.

sms

deviant [23:59]: 'i an so sick of these trend oid f...n wan ker f..n d f...n piss weak ...... d j s ... what the f are they thinking... you can do it put your ass in to f them... rant rave rant... etc...'

...

deviant [10:13]: 'please disregard any drunken unintelligible messages.'

tp [10:35]: 'yes. well below par i thought. critical social commentary on the mainstream music genres apparent in the average licensed restaurant around midnight. where's the tits and arse in that? where's the porn? the filth? the excitement? it's just not cricket, mate, it's just not cricket.'

deviant [10:36]: 'well said.'

in other words bunnies: if you are going to send drunken messages in the middle of the night, at least make sure they are sex/porn/filth related and exciting. then there is a slight possibility that you might get away with waking that someone up.

see, there is always time for sex and/or thinking about sex.

however, if you wish to share your opinion on the quality of entertainment in the establisment you have decided to buy your beverages from: save it. if i'm not there, i don't give a fuck and i dare say neither will s/he.

to conclude:
sex = exciting = good.
rant = boring = bad.

any questions?

oh, martha, where art thou?

why is it that sometimes blokes being blokes is so endearing and adorable, yet sometimes it's so fucken frustrating and drives you into homicidal rage? *growl*

sing-a-long bunnies, if you know the tune...

'...you bloody mother fucking asshole | oh you bloody mother fucking asshole | oh you bloody mother fucking asshole | oh you bloody mother fucking asshole | oh you bloody mother fucking asshole | oh you bloody...'

zee goggles do nothing!

step aside frankennipple, here comes the frankentit!

(sorry bunnies, i know, i really didn't want to be exposed to those images either...)

funny shit

ok, i'm freaking out.

just watched the family stone. as a movie? meh. but the cast freaked me out.

why? if you take luke wilson, add 5 inches of height, tone up a fair bit and chisel an inch of width off the jaw, you get deviant. a spitting fucken image i tell you. freaky shit.

as i have made a decision not to post any images of deviant before letting him read the blog, i think luke will have to borrow him a face for now.

uncanny.

priceless moments on the way back to reality

there are a few things in the world that are just priceless. a few things that you often forget to appreciate while they're there, but miss oh-so-much when they're gone.

however i am aware. aware of every second of it.

last night i fell asleep in deviant's beautiful strong arms. there i was, tightly snuggled up to keep the cold away. warm, safe and happy. but what was possibly even better was waking up in the middle of the night to him pulling me even closer in his sleep. i am willing to bet that i slept with a smile on my face.

or in the morning, waking up next to this gorgeous young man, still more than half asleep, snuggling his way closer to me. smile at his adorable growl towards the alarm going off and his feeble attempts to seek solace by pressing his head against my bosom. to watch over those last few minutes of his sleep while cradling that endearing mess of a hair in my arms.

it is a beautiful day.

"i may not have gone where i intended to go, but i think i have ended up where i needed to be."

- douglas adams