Trysting Fields

Obligatory Birthday Party Post

Saturday, 24th September.

An epic time was, needless to say, had.

The Patrick Porter award for the best present and best guest overall goes to Kirrily. The prize for the most perverse guests goes to the Keith! Party crew - comprising on this occasion Talkshow Boy, 2-SHEE, Hot God, Gezus and entourage including Ms C. C*ulter (alias unknown) - who turned up unfashionably early, immediately occupied what would normally be the dancing room and systematically set about turning it into a chillout room. WTF. (NB: And it was *great*.)

Prize for the most long-lost-but-pleasingly-now-seemingly-regained former CH party regular goes to Vicwie. Prize for the best guest who wasn't able to attend physically but who came in essence goes, as always, to Wads. Prize for the best autographed copy of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" and best Tasweigan mafia attaché goes to Doktor Midnight aka The Dan Cross Revolution. Prize for the best drug by almost universal consensus goes to nitrous oxide.

Prize for the most gobsmacking act of delusionality - not to mention the most concerted but nevertheless pathetically unsuccessful attempt to ruin a birthday party of mine in the history of the world - goes to the profoundly fucked in the head disappointing Ms G. Rouse. Prize for the most departing housemate of three years goes to Grim$ha.

Prize for the most heroically tenacious still-recovering-from-her-own-birthday-shenanigan-the-previous-night attendee and all-round best MC-Ren-would-you-please-give-your-testimony-to-the-jury-about-this-fucked-up-incident regaliousness goes to Toots.

Special award for the mouthiest ho goes, as it generally does, to Kat (see audio, below).

Extra special thanks to, y'know, everyone else. Seriously.

(Previously; previously; previously.)

Second Day Of Spring

F#$book Is In, Apparently

One of the main reasons my blog is so dead these days is that all the action it might once have seen is now occurring on my two Facebook accounts.

FB - rapacious motherfucker that it is - has eaten my blog.

I'm not particularly happy about this, but so it goes. Can't force shit.

Here is the news:

I am doing alright; better even. I've become a bit decadent over the semester break but that's okay. I need a new job, and I've all but decided to defer school for the rest of the year to focus on making some money and generally sloughing off the final vestiges of My Worst Depression Since 2005 (tm) - which is, pleasingly, drawing to a close fucking FINALLY.

Bring on spring.

I had another bustup with Lady J the week before last, which has made me a bit sad. But I'll get over it. And in thematically related news, I'm still estranged from my former associate the artist sometimes known as Schnozzie, which also continues to cause me grief.

Being severely alienated from people you love a lot and have epic history with really sucks.

What else? My sister moved house last weekend, which was a major operation and marked the end of an era. Her new place is massive - she now has her own studio, which I am very envious of - and her new housemates are lovely. Yay Toots's new house.

Finally: I'm having a birthday party on September 24th. It's going to go OFF. You should totally come.

Generally speaking we're on the up, at long last.

That is all for now!!!

Friday 2nd July.

The DP I Audio Is Finally Up

Here.

All of V*cw*e's parts have been edited out - which is a shame IMHO, coz they're golden. But so it goes.

(She got kind of shitty at me about the whole thing, which was a bit upsetting. This is the first time anyone's ever gotten pissy at me over blog audio. There's an interesting post in all of this. But methinks it's a story for another time.)

In happier news: I found out on Tuesday that, against all expectations, I got into art school.

Wo0t!1! etc

SRC Xmas Party

17th December.

Vale SRC. I'm gonna miss you hugely in some ways; in other ways not so much. I'll certainly miss your Xmas parties. Or maybe I'll just crash them.

The following was captured at Harrie & Atkins' house, at some point quite far into the 17-odd hours' worth of extended shenanigans.

Messy night; messy audio. But I like it.

(Previously.)

Ange's Bad '80s Beach Party

5th December.

Picnic

3rd October.

Not really a picnic. Due to inclement weather it was held inside at Gab's place.

But it was still good. (If admittedly not as good as the night before; omg. But that's a story for a forthcoming post..)

Things To Be Thankful For (Five)

Bitches who know how to treat their slaves right.

One such ultrastar of an individual graced Chez Hagakure's now-vacant second bedroom last weekend whilst on an all-too-brief-and-rare visit to Teh Melbourne.

It was, as always, a total & unmitigated pleasure to accommodate her.

(Previously.)

Things To Be Thankful For (Three)

Schnozzie.

Our relationship (whatever it is) has always been problematic and remains so in some ways. But the best ones often are.

I wish I could do a better job sometimes of making her understand how much I value and care about her.

She's been a huge force for awesomeness in my life this year. She's a legend and I fucking love her.

(Previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously.)

Chez Hagakure Vodka, Juice & Soda Water Low-Key Dinner Party

With AG.

Interlude: Return Of Soybean

She's back. Again.

Nothing will ever be the same.

(NB The extent to which nothing is or is not ever the same in your specific experiential sphere may vary in accordance with a range of factors - some known, some unknown; some known to be unknown, others unknown as unknown. The degree of liability expressed or implied by the above statement can be estimated at approximately one [1] wad of NADA. Hooray for everything.)

(Previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously, previously.)

Chez Hagakure Red Wine & Homebrew Quiet Night In

With Luke.

Interlude: Toots.

Interlude: Damn.

I wish it'd occurred to me to record some audio at the Chez Hagakure Post-Mushie-Hunt Impromtu Dinner Party on Saturday night.

But not with J; she doesn't want to be bitch #6. It's a not-liking-the-number-six thing.

Any volunteers?

Chez Hagakure G&T Sock Swap

With Liv.

(Previously; previously.)

Chez Hagakure Tea & Pizza Shapes Meet

Starring this chick.

(Previously; previously; previously; previously; previously; elsewhere.)

Chez Hagakure Bong Summit

Attending; presiding.

Chez Hagakure Vodka Conference

Attending: Em; Gab; me (obvs).

(Prevs.)

Sitting Amongst The Wreckage

Watching Press Gang with Toots.

Teh life, it is good.

The housewarming afterparty was, as intended, a quiet affair. But it still went OFF. I blame this guy.

I have nothing else to declare except my ongoing, undying love for M2M. And that I have a new favourite word.

This is the first M2M video I ever saw, in 2002:

The final minute emerged randomly from under the end of something else I'd taped on purpose. I taped Video Hits all the way through for a month of Saturday mornings afterwards to catch it again. We had to do things like that in the dark days before YouTube and BitTorrent were invented.

Update - This footage is not particularly interesting content-wise, but I find Marit weirdly mesmerising in it:

I also like the bit where Marion asks Andrew G if he ate the worm.