Today is the last day I am Twenty. I don't even get much of twenty tommorow. As lengend has it, I was birthed at 2 minutes past midnight, only just meaning that it is not my birthday today. But that's cool, because twelve is a cooler number than eleven. Twelve has a "w" AND a "v".
But this also means that soon I will be losing my innocence, if I hadn't already lost it while under the influence of god knows what to a shapley bush when I was fifteen. But still, another golden year will have past as my youth fades to become just a legend that I go on endlessly about with my false teeth out so noone can understand what the hell I am talking about.
"Back in my day, we had to wait two whole minutes for our noodels to be done!"
"Oh, come off it Grandpa!"
"No, I'm serious! And the minutes were longer in those days. We didn't have any of this metric-time bollocks, there were sixty minutes to an hour, and thats the way it should be. Where did they get the extra fourty minutes from, I ask ye? From Satan, thats who."
At this time my son will take the wiskey bottle from me and tell me to go home. No-one respects the elderly these days.
So yes, what the fuck am I rambling on about? Who knows. Who cares? I care. Looking over my previous posts, I can see that my life has been becomming steadilly more boring. This time last year I was unemployed, living in a cupboard that smelt like smelly damp things and scrounging enough money from my student loan to by bottles of wine and tins of chopped tomatoes. Now, one year later, I work in a cafe every week day for money, I sleep in a room on a real bed and I have cut down the amount that I drink and opted for a deit that does not consist soley of "whatever I can get from the food bank plus an onion."
Some people would call this progress, and congratulate me on getting stability, a clue and a life. I call it poo. Oh for those hazy days in which I wagged lectures and sat on our porch in the sun drinking cheap bubbly and playing poker. Woe on these days of stuff. So to make sure this wont happen again, I shall immortalise here a list of resolutions, and at the end of this next year I can check them off with satisfaction:
1) Live by myself. Gosh Darn Fuck I want to live by my self. no offence to all the people who want me to live with them, for I am a popular and well endowed man, but I just want to come hoome from my day of doing whatever the hell, dim the lights, put on some barry white and then walk around my house nakie. I am pretty sure noone else wants to partake in this.
2) Get some mode of transportation. To do this i firstly need to get my learners drivers licence, and then save enough money to buy a scooter. Both these things are at the moment made impossible by the fact that I am oh so lazy. This week I managed to save $40 from my last paycheck. It is the only money I have been able to save, ever. And where is it going? On booze tommorow. Oh yeah.
3)LIVE LIFE TO THE EXTREME! Well, for me extreme living will be finding a job in a cafe that allows me to make coffee all day which dosent interfere with my studies and gives me enough money to both pay the rent and get drunk on weekends. Boy, I aim high with my dreams!
4)Buy furniture, especially a double bed. I am sick of my stinky single bed, lack of (Holy shit, there is a panda looking at me) lack of coffee table and lack of couch. I want something to put my beer on. I want something to fall asleap on while watching late night soft-porn on sky one. And I want a big bed for asthetic value.
So there it is. In this comming year I aim to have more money, more material things, and more sweet sweet naked Flan time. It will be good, and of course, all adventures will be documented here on "Highlyflannable: Why the fuck are you reading this?"
Seriously. Why?
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
And you thought it was all over!
Yes indeedy, I am not dead faithful fans of this here page! No, I am meerly getting old. On thursday, I am going to turn 21, an age that warrants a might, mighty piss up. Previous resolutions aside, medication nonwithstanding, I am not entering into the next phase of my life (entitled "Adulthood: Why It Hates You") sober in any sense or form. If you think this is quite right, then come to B4 on thursday from 3pm onwards. Or if you think that my liver has had far too much sweet sweet alcohol, then you sould come along to try to prise the beer from my hands. You will fail, but you can try.
As far as my life in the intrem between when I last posted and now, life has been tiring, and I have been working much. I have written an essay. I have had coffee with people. I have done so many everyday and commonplace things that I will not bore you by relationg them here. And I have only been drunk once. But that was because it was after the Worst Day in Mine Or Anyone's Life, Including Job. I know it is quite a big claim to say that I had a worse day than the man who God the all powerful deliberately messed with, and perhaps I am overexagerating, but feel safe in the knowledge that it completely warranted the two bottles of wine.
Off to do things which include Milton's "Paradise Lost". It is long, but I have almost finished it...
As far as my life in the intrem between when I last posted and now, life has been tiring, and I have been working much. I have written an essay. I have had coffee with people. I have done so many everyday and commonplace things that I will not bore you by relationg them here. And I have only been drunk once. But that was because it was after the Worst Day in Mine Or Anyone's Life, Including Job. I know it is quite a big claim to say that I had a worse day than the man who God the all powerful deliberately messed with, and perhaps I am overexagerating, but feel safe in the knowledge that it completely warranted the two bottles of wine.
Off to do things which include Milton's "Paradise Lost". It is long, but I have almost finished it...
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
It's all about the candy.
What candy? I have no candy. None. do you have candy? I would like some of your candy. Yes, life sometimes seems like that everlasting quest for candy, much like the quest for the holy grail, except sweeter. What the hell am I thaking about? You tell me. You "im-not-sharing-my-candy-with-you" BASTARD!
As you can see, everything is going well with me. Yesterday I received an essay mark back. I got what I expected: An A-, because although my essay was short a brief in both content and proof and only took me a couple of hours, I managed to sustain a nice metaphor thoroughout that complimented my argument. And after someone has read many an essay with poor gramma, punctuation and verbosity, something that is written in a half decient fashion automatically gets a high mark. Sad but true. There are three ways to get yourself a good mark: write a good essay, cover up your deficiencies with words like "cacophony" and "elucidate", or bribe those in power with candy. And as we have already established, I am far to lazy for the first option and too candy-less for the second.
Do I have anything else to report? I think not. Soon I am going to find out is a certain thing I reciently did will either work or just end up in a burning wreck of molten crap. This thing, which I will not divulge at the moment, may just result in candy. Or at least something sweet.
And I am all about the sugar. Cryptic, no?
As you can see, everything is going well with me. Yesterday I received an essay mark back. I got what I expected: An A-, because although my essay was short a brief in both content and proof and only took me a couple of hours, I managed to sustain a nice metaphor thoroughout that complimented my argument. And after someone has read many an essay with poor gramma, punctuation and verbosity, something that is written in a half decient fashion automatically gets a high mark. Sad but true. There are three ways to get yourself a good mark: write a good essay, cover up your deficiencies with words like "cacophony" and "elucidate", or bribe those in power with candy. And as we have already established, I am far to lazy for the first option and too candy-less for the second.
Do I have anything else to report? I think not. Soon I am going to find out is a certain thing I reciently did will either work or just end up in a burning wreck of molten crap. This thing, which I will not divulge at the moment, may just result in candy. Or at least something sweet.
And I am all about the sugar. Cryptic, no?
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Cold Turkey
PUT THOSE SPORKS AWAY! Yes, I know it has been almost a week since I have posted, but I have a good excuse: I am Lazy. Well, it sounded better in my head. But anyway, since of the complete lack of posting that has been happening, you are now to be treated to a super-turbo-alpha-xtreme-plus post of mammoth proportions! Are you ready for this?
Righty ho then. I suppose the most importaint thing that has been happening to me over the last week and a bit has been the fact that I have been going broiled chicken from the booze. I am going salted pork rind from my alcoholic habits because of the pills I am now consuming in the morning to make my brain better. The brain better drugs don't actually mean that I have to stop drinkingaltogether, but since I have a very poor record when it comes to trying to moderate myself, I thought it would be a better idea to just forgo ethanol completely and go stuffed doormouse. For any of you who have not gone wet donkey before, I tell ya there are a few things that happen when you try to ween yourself off an addictive substance. No doubt it is different for different people, but I had some major headaches, cravings, and the strange experiance that is waking up un-hungover, possibly hungunder or level-hung. Seriously. I had not been to work on a Thursday completely sober ever, I think, as Wednesday was my drink to get through the rest of the week day. It was interesting having a body that was completely functional. None of that crazy unable to focus, direct hands or stand without leaning on things. Nope, I was a completely functional human. In some ways it was good. In other ways, it was damn annoying. I don't know quite how to expain such a happening, but work is a lot more fun when you are not quite with it. You know, they say that one of the steps to getting rid of an addictive habit is admiting and accepting the fact that life on booze/coke/ground up M&M's will never be as fun as life sober. I quite fail to see how that helps, but it is very true. I mean, why else would anyone do such things? Cause it feels good, thats why.
What is the moral of that little story? Buggered if I know. But I feel quite good in life at the moment, and my liver and his close friends Mr. and Mrs. Kidney are having quite the "thank god he's stopped putting poison in us" party, complete with non-alcoholic beer and spinach samwhiches.
In other news, last night I had a gig. It was at my friends house, who also happens to be the lead guitarist/co-singer of the band. It was good. We packed that livingroom out. Seriously. Standing room only, people boogieing out, a whole lot of "borrowed" apms giving us the much needed vocal volume to get our lyrics heard enough that I saw one or two people mouthing along. Good times, good times indeed. Of course, I fucked up, my hand cramped up halfway through on of the new songs so I had to play like a damn retard and actually stopped at one point, and I munted up me strumming hand pretty nice. Blood all over the place. But really, I think I am going to be one of those pedantic people who are never completely happy with their performance. When I am on the global tour that we wil be on in 10 years time, no doubt I will come off stage after out 35 song set and beat myself up for not enuciating properly or something. But still, the kind of energy you have afterwards is amazing. I got out of there onto the open air balcony and was trembling and had a slight stich (some of our songs you just don't get a rest from. It didn't help that we had to shout pretty hard to get sound out of the bass amp we were using as a PA either) and even though it was pretty much just a happy little gig performed to our friends and aquaintences, I still had a very major high.
Alright then. In other other news, it is my Birthday in Twelve Days Time. I shall be turning Twenty One. Can't you just hear the Gongs of Mortality building up to a creshendo? Just like my 20th birthday, I feel like I am reaching the end of an era, and soon I shall be thrust out into the 9-5 work day, with a bank account that doesn't have an interest free overdraft. What am I going to do? I live in my overdraft. I haven't technically had any actual money for a year. It has all been borrowed from the bank. I am going to be sooo screwed when I finish studing at the end of next year. Not to mention all the stories that will be told at my 21st. Why did I pick this year to do so many stupidly drunken things? And my past isn't exactly bereft of material either. Oh well, que serra serra. As a quick end note, It is also my good friend Spasm's birthday today, but he is an ancient old man, so please send him your good wishes so he will remember his dentures and not choke on his tofu at the vegeterian BBQ he is attending by way of celebration of his steadilly ascending age. No wonder I worry about birthdays. I deal out far too much crap to other people.
And that is it. I should be getting back into the swing of things post wise now. In the comming weeks: Essay: 3000 words of tourture and Work: The slow distruction of my soul.
Righty ho then. I suppose the most importaint thing that has been happening to me over the last week and a bit has been the fact that I have been going broiled chicken from the booze. I am going salted pork rind from my alcoholic habits because of the pills I am now consuming in the morning to make my brain better. The brain better drugs don't actually mean that I have to stop drinkingaltogether, but since I have a very poor record when it comes to trying to moderate myself, I thought it would be a better idea to just forgo ethanol completely and go stuffed doormouse. For any of you who have not gone wet donkey before, I tell ya there are a few things that happen when you try to ween yourself off an addictive substance. No doubt it is different for different people, but I had some major headaches, cravings, and the strange experiance that is waking up un-hungover, possibly hungunder or level-hung. Seriously. I had not been to work on a Thursday completely sober ever, I think, as Wednesday was my drink to get through the rest of the week day. It was interesting having a body that was completely functional. None of that crazy unable to focus, direct hands or stand without leaning on things. Nope, I was a completely functional human. In some ways it was good. In other ways, it was damn annoying. I don't know quite how to expain such a happening, but work is a lot more fun when you are not quite with it. You know, they say that one of the steps to getting rid of an addictive habit is admiting and accepting the fact that life on booze/coke/ground up M&M's will never be as fun as life sober. I quite fail to see how that helps, but it is very true. I mean, why else would anyone do such things? Cause it feels good, thats why.
What is the moral of that little story? Buggered if I know. But I feel quite good in life at the moment, and my liver and his close friends Mr. and Mrs. Kidney are having quite the "thank god he's stopped putting poison in us" party, complete with non-alcoholic beer and spinach samwhiches.
In other news, last night I had a gig. It was at my friends house, who also happens to be the lead guitarist/co-singer of the band. It was good. We packed that livingroom out. Seriously. Standing room only, people boogieing out, a whole lot of "borrowed" apms giving us the much needed vocal volume to get our lyrics heard enough that I saw one or two people mouthing along. Good times, good times indeed. Of course, I fucked up, my hand cramped up halfway through on of the new songs so I had to play like a damn retard and actually stopped at one point, and I munted up me strumming hand pretty nice. Blood all over the place. But really, I think I am going to be one of those pedantic people who are never completely happy with their performance. When I am on the global tour that we wil be on in 10 years time, no doubt I will come off stage after out 35 song set and beat myself up for not enuciating properly or something. But still, the kind of energy you have afterwards is amazing. I got out of there onto the open air balcony and was trembling and had a slight stich (some of our songs you just don't get a rest from. It didn't help that we had to shout pretty hard to get sound out of the bass amp we were using as a PA either) and even though it was pretty much just a happy little gig performed to our friends and aquaintences, I still had a very major high.
Alright then. In other other news, it is my Birthday in Twelve Days Time. I shall be turning Twenty One. Can't you just hear the Gongs of Mortality building up to a creshendo? Just like my 20th birthday, I feel like I am reaching the end of an era, and soon I shall be thrust out into the 9-5 work day, with a bank account that doesn't have an interest free overdraft. What am I going to do? I live in my overdraft. I haven't technically had any actual money for a year. It has all been borrowed from the bank. I am going to be sooo screwed when I finish studing at the end of next year. Not to mention all the stories that will be told at my 21st. Why did I pick this year to do so many stupidly drunken things? And my past isn't exactly bereft of material either. Oh well, que serra serra. As a quick end note, It is also my good friend Spasm's birthday today, but he is an ancient old man, so please send him your good wishes so he will remember his dentures and not choke on his tofu at the vegeterian BBQ he is attending by way of celebration of his steadilly ascending age. No wonder I worry about birthdays. I deal out far too much crap to other people.
And that is it. I should be getting back into the swing of things post wise now. In the comming weeks: Essay: 3000 words of tourture and Work: The slow distruction of my soul.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
