Friday, 21st October.
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Random video I shot from across the road:
Fairly eye-popping report from that well-known “bastion of socialist activism” (lol, Geoff Lemon) The Herald Scum:
Video coverage by Anthony Snowden:
In summation: Robert Doyle is a fucking cunt.
Also: this.
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. Seriously.
In a good way.
It’s getting easier.
Although I’m at a bit of a loss, blogwise. Any requests?
Filed under Discombobulation, Photos, School, Weblogs
Wondering if I’d lost my shiny new job due to being too discombobulated, a random passing woman stopped and said to me, randomly, “You could totally get a job as a gate.”
I was unsure how to respond to this.
“Y’know, if you ever need one,” she clarified.
I was skeptical. I couldn’t raise my legs like a tollbar. I actually tried. But then it occurred to me that – although it was slightly awkward – I could swing them to one side.
“See, there’s always an angle,” she said.
As randoms who approach you for no ostensive reason when you’re tripped-out mental invariably seem to be, she was dead on the money.
(Previously; previously.)
Saturday 17th July.
Most fiasco-tastic DP evar! It’s been a bit like that lately. I almost gave up and cancelled it. But I’m very glad I didn’t, coz despite all kinds of stupid problems in the end it still went OFF.
(10:21pm; 4min 59sec)
Amongst other things, the DPP planning committee encountered considerable guestlist difficulty. Despite and at least partly because of no less than three date changes aimed at accommodating them all and genuine enthusiasm from at least some quarters, exactly none of the invitees I’d originally lined up ultimately managed to make it.
(10:55pm; 1min 17sec)
Which might have been considered a fairly abject fail – were it not for the inspiringly circus-saving company of previous-attendee legends who, in flagrant violation of DPP rules, valiantly braved the cold and brought the awse instead: Matt K (DPs I and III), Twyllan (DP II), Henley (DP III), Sarah aka The Major (DP IV), Pablo (DPP virgin), Luke (DP IV), and of course Grimsey (DPs I, II, III and IV). Fucken <3.
(12:24am; 4min 28sec)
It was an unprecedentedly structured DP. As per a preestablished order of proceedings there was soup, then salad, then pie, then the merciless destruction and defilement of an old chair that had unforgiveably given way under DP I alumnus Bourkie at CH the night before. Then, naturally, muffins.
(1:16am; 2min 26sec)
Along the way there were tears (not really); there was laughter. It was epic.
(2:34am; 2min 49sec)
Filed under Adversity, Art, Audio, Awesomeness, Benevolence, Chaos, Current Affairs, Damage Control, Destruction, Discombobulation, Food, It'll All Come Good, Muntedness, People, Perseverence, Photos, Relational Aesthetics, Self Analysis, Should I Be Saying This On This Internet?, Swings & Roundabouts, The DPP, Things To Be Thankful For
Friday 2nd July.
Filed under Adversity, Art, Awesomeness, Bitches, Chaos, Destruction, Discombobulation, Domestica, Drugs, Goodbyes, Mentalism, Misanthropy, Mysteries, Newness, Night Time, Not Dead, People, Perseverence, Photos, Relational Aesthetics, Sadness, Schmobos, Shitfulness, Swings & Roundabouts, The Liberator Who Destroyed My Property Has Realigned My Perceptions, the walls are mushy, What Kind Of Fuckery Is This
Friday 2nd April – Sunday 4th April.
Filed under Audio, Awesomeness, Chaos, Damage Control, Discombobulation, Drugs, It'll All Come Good, Night Time, People, Photos, School, the walls are mushy, Travel
Monday 22nd February.
Bangkok, 2nd February.
Filed under Adversity, Are You Hungry, Audio, Awesomeness, Discombobulation, Here Is The News, Photos, Travel, Whack
With D.
With Bourkie “B. Jerky” Bourke.
With Nada.
Filed under Audio, Awesomeness, Discombobulation, People, Photos, Signs Of The Apocalypse, Travel
I spent yesterday evening migrating to a new phone.
(I lost my iPhone in a taxi a few weeks ago. Deep down I wanted to lose it. It was cursed by association.)
It’s a Nokia 6300, the same phone I had from October ’07 to February ’08.
I bought it again because I liked the first one a lot. It was the first phone I’d owned with a vaguely decent camera, a voice recorder, substantial storage capacity, and the ability to talk to my computer. I captured a lot of audio and took a lot of pictures with it, and posted a lot of both here.
Thems were happy, phoenix-from-the-ashes times. Could Has Art. It was great.
There was a lot of acid around then. Maybe that was a factor. Who knows.
(The whole record-some-audio-take-a-picture blogging formula continued, in a more standardized way, through the subsequent winter via the MacBook I got when my eMac died, around the same time that Wouters – sick of hearing me whine about nasty text messages from J that I didn’t want to read – killed the aforementioned old Nokia by dropping it in a glass of bourbon & coke.
Different era, more complex & difficult, but in its own way equally good.
Then – in a seasonally trend-bucking turn of events – everything went to shit when Spring hit, and life stopped. Couldn’t Has Art.)
The phone died, but its memory card survived.
Going through all of that old media last night was reeaal interesting.
I think it’s time for some psychedelics.
