Trysting Fields

The Psychopathology Of Schnozzie

Friday 26th February.

Almost-but-not-quite captured on video. Exciting times!

In other news: The SRC Xmas party audio is finally up. Many thanks to Bourkie for giving it the green light at long last.

Bar Open With Toots

20th December.

She initiated this audio. That never happens. Crazy festive timez FTW!

No One's There, Victoria

Interlude: Massacre.

Oy.

I regret burning W******. And I wish I could have been a better friend to Gab.

But what I feel really terrible about is taking J out for what should - by all rights - have been a night of awesomeness, and then exposing her to all that horror. Last fucking thing on earth that she needed.

EPIC FAIL.

Oh well.

ION: Still need a B#6.

Rainbow Serpent (Part 2)

Reputered.

At long freaking last.

In the meantime, my two primary gmail accounts, my Facebook account and my TypePad (blog) account were hacked & rendered inaccessible. Oy.

I've managed to resecure the blog account, at least, thanks to a friendly cookie which recognised my machine. Bless that cookie. No damage appears to have been inflicted. The only evidence of intrusion is that the answer to my secret security question ("What is your mother's maiden name?") has changed from "Symington" to "whore".

Charmed, I'm sure.

Cunts.

Here - nested all meta-style - is an earlier entry I scrawled freehand on Tuesday, and was planning to post at the 'ternet caff that evening but couldn't, because I'd been hacked:

Munted.

Is the word of the week. As in "Man, I got munted on Saturday night." And I did. I really did.

At 10pm I was summoned by Wouters to a party in the Brunswick area. I was only going to stay out for two hours or so on account of: (a) I was supposed to be working the following day -

(In other news: I started working at the doodle palace again last week; it's been almost as much of a shock to my system as Rainbow. But in a significantly less good way.)

- and (b) I didn't actually know the person who's party it was or anyone else who was going to be there. Or so I thought..

As it turned out.. ah, it's quite a funny story, but it's also a bit complex and at least four of my five remaining readers basically know it already.

Suffice to say a munting good time was had, this being only improved - and further enmunted - by the semi-random appearance of none other than the mysterious and extraordinary Thad at an advanced stage of the evening. (Update 8 Feb: I've encountered him twice more since then. I think he's stalking me. Or someone I know. But I don't mind at all.)

I didn't make it to work. I'm not sure how I made it home. I'm really not.

In other muntedness news, I'm having a party tomorrow night. It's going to be pretty good. If you are reading this and you know my street address, you can come.

Personality Test Redux

(Previously.)

Actually, Y'Know, We All Have Voices In Our Heads; Some People's Are Just Much More Interesting Than Yours

Frikken' amateurs. No, really. Check this out.

Heh.

How many untreated episoding psychotics do you know who could complete a Master's degree, incidentally? Kudos.

(And since we're on the subject, how many 'treated' ones do you know who could do this? I'll tell you: none. Go off your meds, kids, etc.)

Here Is An Audio Version Of That Comment

Howard Belatedly Complies With Pulat Vanstone Directive

Semi was right. Victory for the Trysting Fields campaign.

Senator Amanda Vanstone says she will take some time to consider her future, after being dropped from the federal frontbench.

Senator Vanstone, who leaves the Immigration portfolio, says she is not sure if she will see out the five remaining years of her parliamentary term.

It's unclear whether the subtext here is that she's contemplating suicide. But if so, Mandy, know that you have my full support. You fat nasty bitch from hell.

(In other news: Is it just me or is Stan Grant looking, weirdly, much much blacker than he used to?)

How To Become A Cult Leader

Adam already posted this, but because it's genius and because I can see that you're special, dear reader, I wanted to share it with you personally. In my opinion, you deserve no less.

No, there's no need to thank me. You're doing all the work. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You're special. You're special. I love you. I love you. Kill your parents. Kill your teachers. Kill your so-called friends. Kill yourself. You don't really exist anyway. Deep down you know it's true. That is all.

(PS You're special.)

Greetings From Rainy Manchester

Vale Tript

*tips hat*

Sad day.

In other news, thank you to the anonymous person who ingeniously sent me this in a way I couldn't respond to:

If you are who I think you are - you're funny. And if I don't know you, that's even funnier.

Tell me - do you get curiously predictable headaches and phantom mice in your bed at 4am, too?

Search Hit Of The Week

irresponsible whack "american psychiatric association"

Go off your meds, kids.

(and omg - update - happy birthday, toots!)

When Nada Met Bob

Party II

It was a much quieter affair than the last one. But it was still good!

~ made sushi

Russian cocaine was served in abundance

First Hamish of the night

The drink's creator attended in A4 poster form

Nada came all the way from New Jersey - what's your excuse? - only to be strangled by ~ in a fit of paranoia. These things happen at Hagakure parties

Former Operative Johana (Hamish)

Former Operatives Reanimator (Scotch & Cola) and Li (rightly hiding in shame behind bottle of Cascade Light)

Semi (herbal tea and sympathy)

T. (fat rocks of crack, not shown)

Some woman dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz (not sure what she was on)

This crazy Japanese girl gave ~ a terrible time a while back, but he invited her anyway.

Reanimator, Li, ~, a russian mathematician and i ended up watching Fight Club by candlelight at about 3am. I did loads of bulbs.

It was good.

Some Days It's Great To Be Alive

Have a nice funeral, fuckhead.

Sure hope no one accidentally drops a cluster bomb on it, killing your entire extended family and anybody who ever gave two shits about you.

Just kidding! Actually, I hope someone does. That would be funny as hell.

(To give him his due, it's true he certainly had quite the way with words...)

Now please excuse me, dear readers; serious drinking etc

Splendiferous weekend wishes to you all!

In Other News

Everybody should watch The Hamish Show. I have been catching up on old posts episodes this evening; it is a great blog show.

This one in particular is the best ever!!

(In semi-related news: I just reinstated my notorious Neurocam-destroying post from February, in response to several requests I have received over the last little while. If you were wondering what all this 'Phase Two' malarky was really all about - there you go. It was me. I lit the Chicago Fire, I killed the baby Jesus etc. And this here should be considered my absolute final public word on the accursed subject of the Neurocam.)

Should I light my cherry cigar? I just can't decide. I think it may be called for; it really is that good of a post episode.

UPDATE - I lit it. But I can't take a picture, coz ~ has my camera again and there is no waking him at this hour of the morning.

Life, eh?

2nd UPDATE - And now someone is bashing on our front door, but I'm not going to answer it; it's probably for him. Fuck it, they're not going away and it's getting on my nerves; I guess I will. I hope it is not Robin Hely. For his sake, obviously. Heh.

3rd UPDATE - It was ~'s friend Film Student Boy; he was incredibly drunk. He just came into my room and wouldn't stop apologising, because he could see I didn't really forgive him. So I had to look him in the eye and pretend that I didn't mind him virtually bashing down our front door drunkenly at three o'clock in the morning, to make him go away the hell out of my room.

I wish I had some weed.

This cigar is no substitute.

Scary, Scary, Don't We Look Mean

(via The Wild Hunt.)

What Mishuki said.

Happy Halloween, everybody.

Holy Crap You're A Cunt, Hely

Some day I will take enormous pleasure in watching you genuinely suffer, you worthless irredeemable piece of shit.

From: Stephen Cronin
Date: 15 October 2006 2:42:16 PM
To: Teigan
Subject: Re: how the hell do you write so well

[snip]

I was eventually going to come out to you with the truth anyway. Who was I to deny the Great Robert Henley as such a lonely Operative. And when he offered me something that CH (you) couldn't.. I took it.

Here is the official list of people that screwed you over (including myself.)

Robin Hely - gave orders and orchestrated everything
Midnight - played a dual identity role with you to screw you over, purposely tried to tick you off (by poor handling of admissions, etc.) in order to try and get you to quit.. RH's idea actually lol)
Chris Titan - used Herbert Finch in an attempt to break you down
Steve Cronin - fed info to RH through convos with you & CH (you)
Adren - Called your Sister under orders of RH (That's really all he did and was never really involved with any of the plotting. Adren was probably the most innocent one out of all of us.)

I don't know why I just got into this.. I never planned to write about this when i started this e-mail.

Hot Flash, Call The Papers etc

More Rushkoff linkage: In which it occurs to our protagonist that contemporary western democracy is eminently recognisable as - gasp - nothing but an elaborate con!! Who'd a thunk it?

What I Got For My Birthday

A can of whoop-ass Hagakure style yo Easy Surface Prep

A Discombobulator of my very own

Two bottles of apparently non-lethal Red Bull concentrate

Two bottles of Arrogant Frog sauvignon blanc

Two delicious, beautifully wrapped and generally special cupcakes (not shown)

Colourful and appealing multimedia art products

A hefty biography of John Fowles, bafflingly enough

A black 30 gigabyte iPod, which was nice

A Brave New World mug

Cards & chocolate

Amongst other things.

Thanks everyone. It was great!

Grant Morrison Explains Everything

at Disinfo.con in February 2000. (Grant Morrison is a writer, iconoclast and man who Knows. He basically invented The Matrix, amongst other things. He is also funny as hell.)

Semi linked this a while back but having just re-viewed it, I'ma pimp it again because it's fucking brilliant and everybody with at least half a functioning brain and any clue at all should watch it now.

No, I don't care what else you think you're doing or have to do. Watch it now.

Watch it now.

That is all.

Does Anyone Else Ever Get

That dark, menacing feeling which you just know (because it's familiar from more overt contexts) means someone you know is hating on you really hardcore - but you can't for the life of you figure out who it is, or why?

I have that right now.

Who are you, and what did I do?

Spill it.

Don't Have Time To Check It Out Properly Right Now

But this is quite interesting.

"The message [reg required] went on to explain that Lonelygirl15 was a project to harness the audience to develop and evolve a story and "usher in an era of interactive storytelling where the line between 'fan' and 'star' has been removed".

While not everyone is convinced that the filmmakers' confession is genuine (many believe it's part of the developing mystery), it now seems certain that Lonelygirl15 is a fake - although who is behind the hoax and the purpose of it is still unclear.

A clue left in one of the videos suggests it may be another month before we find out.

In a video posted a week ago titled Bree The Cookie Monster, Bree and Daniel rate batches of cookies they said they baked.

Bree's purple monkey puppet holds up score cards. The first one gets "10", the second "12" and the third one "06". Why "06" and not "6"?

Viewers point out that the sequence makes a date: 10/12/06 - or October 12, 2006, using the US method of writing dates. October 12 also happens to be the birth date of the late occultist Aleister Crowley, whose picture can be seen on a wall in Bree's room.

News of the hoax, however, does appear to have dented Lonelygirl15's popularity."

Adam Got Hacked!

Cunts messed with his template and his archives - and deleted Hagakure 419. Cunts!

Life just keeps dropping the bombs this week. First there was that whole freakish untimely death of Steve Irwin thing.. now this.

Bonnie & Clyde

This morning I cannot stop playing the cover of Serge Gainsbourg's Bonnie and Clyde by Boyd Rice and Giddle Partridge which is currently available as a stream from their joint MySpace page.

Go and listen to it! It's great.

The first bit is, anyway. Unfortunately it fades out after two minutes.

I wish they'd hurry up and finish their album. I will buy it if I have to.

Charlie Says

We have domain!

Do we have domain mapping? Well, no.

But who cares?

DOMAIN!

So happy right now. (And I'm not on even on drugs. For once.)

UPDATE - But I'm about to be. Braincells? Who needs 'em etc

From Tomorrow The Signs Are Going Up

NADA MANSON FOR PRESIDENT.

Be afraid.

Do not be afraid. Be brave, for a glorious new era beckons. Vote Nada!