LFN. :P!!
🙂
xxx
(ION: \m/ (>.<) \m/)
TIA. (No, not that TIA.) (Necessarily.)
(LFN!!!)
(This post is dedicated to Mr R. Henley, who doesn’t approve of this kind of thing. Appaz.)
Category Archives: People
NBP!
Filed under Are You Hungry, Cryptography, Dreams, Liable For Nothing, Life Is Good, Nothing, People
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.
Filed under Bitches, Genius, Here Is The News, Life Is Good, Mentalism, Music, People, w0ot, YouTube
Most Fucked Up Easter Ever (Y’know, In A Good Way)
So there I was, attending an uncivilised picnic in the park on Royal Parade, having a perfectly nice time & minding my own and a select handful of other peoples’ business when who should call me completely out of nowhere on my – which is to say, someone else‘s – mobile telephony device but the J-meister.
(Previously.)
We hadn’t spoken in the voice since November, when I drunkenly and unsolicitedly facilitated her and Henley‘s first ever verbal exchange. She’s been in the country three weeks, apparently. Now she & the H-Dogg were in my hood. And they wanted to hang.
Headfuck!
The tone of her voice didn’t make me feel like something she’d just scraped off her shoe, which was nice. So, throwing caution to the wind as I am wont to do on occasion, I went.
We met at Alia. We talked. We danced. A good time was had. It seems like we’re all friends now. Which is totally what I wanted, although if you’d asked me twelve hours ago I’d have said this outcome seemed less likely than [insert comedy incredibly unlikely occurrence which in practice will never ever happen here]. They’re totally coming to my housewarming and shit.
I don’t know what else to say about all of this, but if ever something seemed blogworthy etc.
Hooray for drugs; hooray for Jebus.
Despite my cynicism regarding his religion(s), I am a fan of the man’s work. That cunt was liable for nothing.
Liv & Gab Done Got Blogs
Go read them. I got nothin’. Except an interminably unclearable email backlog. (Plus ca change etc.)
And, I guess, the news that after two years of global trekkage, an older, worldly-wiser Toots aka babysis is coming home today! To my home (ie Melbourne)!
Can you say “I’m fucking excited”? Coz I surely can.
Filed under Are You Hungry, Art, Benevolence, Here Is The News, Newness, People, Pimpage, Signs Of The Apocalypse, w0ot, Weblogs
Rainbow Serpent (Part 2)
Filed under Art, Audio, Benevolence, Boogie Fever, Cryptography, Discombobulation, Dreams, Drugs, Evil, Found, Genius, Here Is The News, Illusion Of Time, Liable For Nothing, Muntedness, Mysteries, Night Time, Nothing, People, Photos, Self Analysis, Signs Of The Apocalypse, some do it fast, some do it better in smaller amounts, The Liberator Who Destroyed My Property Has Realigned My Perceptions, the walls are mushy, These Hippies Are Not Messing Around, Travel, w0ot
Rainbow Serpent (Part 1)
So yes: about a month ago I accompanied my colleague and fellow Merrie Scrambler Major G to Rainbow Serpent. She’d scored a free ticket and needed a handbag company; we went halves.
It was incredibly excellent.
I captured a lot of media, and thankfully had the foresight to copy it off my phone before it died. Then my computer died. Etc blah blah.
Here at long last, etc.
To be continued.
Okay.
It’s a bit hard to to know where to start.
*thinks*
So my computer’s sound recording facilities had been playing up, right. Had been for a while. It was no good. I wanted to make an album.
Thus on the morning of January 15th, I called a taxi and took the old gel into town to be serviced. They told me it would take four days. It wound up taking three weeks. But they did it.
In the meantime, I got totally hacked. First teigan@gmail.com, then [mylegalname]@gmail.com, my blog and my Facebook accounts all stopped accepting their passwords across the final week of January.
On Friday the 8th of February, I got my computer back. On Saturday, I threw a party. This is where we came in.
Upon getting reputered, I created some special email accounts and conducted a few experiments. Via these I established to a high degree of likelihood that my hacker was good old Henley. Somewhat predictably, I lost my shit at him.
On Tuesday 12th, I attempted to boot my newly restored digital handmaiden only to discover that – four days after returning home to me – she had totally, totally died.
I was ‘puterless once more.
Then the following night – Valentine’s Eve, no less – none other than Henley’s girlfriend, a former close associate of mine, claimed responsibility for the hacking via SMS.
Leave the poor petal alone, she said. He’s innocent.
I was skeptical at first, but when she told me that teigan@gmail was wide open for resetting (Quick! Jump up and find an open internet cafe at 2am etc), I realised she was probably telling at least some weird Lady-J-since-she-turned-feral version of the truth.
Why had the former love of my life done this to me? She’d written to me at another account, she said – one of the ones she hadn’t violated and locked me out of – explaining everything.
Only problem was, I had (of course) been changing all my passwords like a demon – without having gotten around to making a backup or a hard copy of any of them. From my computer. Which had since – you will recall – dropped totally, totally dead.
In other words I was now not only ‘puterless and locked out of my hacked accounts, but ‘puterless and locked out of all my internet accounts.
Then in the early hours of Sunday 17th, Wouters dropped my last remaining link to civilisation phone in a full glass of bourbon & coke.
Oy.
Various people have eased my journey through this Durdenesque ordeal, and thanks are due.
Mishuki of Hagakure 419 fame was good enough to let me use hir Facebook profile. My colleague in social research, fellow FB tragic and soon-to-be-housemate Celestine has been extremely generous with her 3G handset, enabling me to update my status in something akin to the style to which I’ve become compulsively accustomed. Thad gave me a safe-haven email account on his server. And last Tuesday, having learned that my dead six-year-old eMac would cost $700 to reanimate, my long-suffering parents offered to buy me a MacBook. Which was very nice of them.
I picked it up this morning. I’m using it now. It’s lovely.
(I’d take a picture but since the destruction of my phone I’ve got no working digital camera, except the one inside said MacBook. And its eye is not prehensile. But here’s a picture of the box:
)
And now I have my accounts back.
Things are gradually returning to some semblance of what passes for ‘normal’ on Planet Teigan.
*flops exhaustedly*
Apart from all of that, I have mostly been going out a lot – having, y’know, not a whole lot else to do – and taking quite a lot of acid.
It’s been.. awesome, actually. Can’t complain.
Oh, and I got engaged on Saturday night. I think. But that’s a whole other story.
Welcome back, blog.
Coming soon: the long, long-delayed multimediatastic Rainbow Serpent post.
Party IV
Went off.
Oh, what a mess! Though. Liable for mess.
Also, someone stole my weed. I’m a bit unhappy about that. But that’s what I get for leaving it unattended in the garden.
So it goes. It was all worth it. Hooray for parties.
Filed under Audio, Drugs, Drunkenness, Life Is Good, Muntedness, People, Photos, Swings & Roundabouts, w0ot
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.
Filed under Cunts, Damage Control, Discombobulation, Domestica, Evil, F***book, Muntedness, People, Terribleness, Whack
Wither Reality Blogging
Feed my narcissism, you cunts.
Walking Home From Carling’s House With Celestine
Filed under Audio, Life, People, Photos, Sketchiness
Wither Comments
Looking at old TF posts for the purposes of linking to them in more recent TF posts, I was struck by something: No fucker is commenting here any more. (Except Liv. And Li. And Wortwut. And the odd Neurocam random combing the archives.) (Gotta love those tenacious, cockroachlike Neurocam randoms.)
Where have you gone, beloved blog massive?
Do you not love me any more?
Is it because Lady J doesn’t love me any more?
That’s it, isn’t it.
It is. Don’t lie.
Actually, I don’t think that’s really it at all. It’s all about me. (It is always all about me.)
To get perhaps ill-advisedly personal for a moment (Li will enjoy this):
Towards the end of 2005, I had Learned To Love Myself. Man. Really, truly had. It was nice. It had been a long time coming.
And I got lots of comments in those days. Because as we all know, if you love yourself – like, really, truly do – then everyone else will love you too. Everyone who matters, anyways.
LJ fell in love with me at around this time. And that was great. But then I think I became dependent on her loving me in order to love myself. So when she stopped, I kinda stopped as well. Et voila: blog comments? Thing of the past.
It’s more complex than that, naturally. But it’s One Way Of Looking At Things. Makes a lot of sense to me.
This is partly the reason people sing the blues when their partners leave them. It’s partly that you just desperately miss having them around, course; it’s partly the shattered dreams of future happiness; it’s partly the sense that all this time and energy expended on getting to know this person really, really well and them getting to know you really, really well, and building trust and constructing a shared identity and blah blah blah has all gone totally to waste. It’s partly because you feel like a part of your very soul has been ripped out, leaving a huge gaping hole in your psyche.
But it’s also significantly because you’ve forgotten how to love yourself without someone else to back you up on it.
That’s really, really bad though. You shouldn’t need anyone else to love you. And the more you do, the less they will.
Am I wrong, non-existent blog readers?
It’s one of those perverse inverse dynamics that The Universe is so fond of, for some sick twisted reason that I will never entirely understand [*] except maybe when I’m on nitrous oxide.
Ah, sweet nitrous oxide.
It will never leave me. Until they make it illegal.
(Why isn’t it illegal? It’s so good.)
[*] NB This is disingenuous; I do in fact understand perfectly. It’s because people are attracted to power and personal power derives from self-sufficiency. But for the purposes of allowing this post to form a nice, natural arc, I had to pretend to be stupider than I really am. Funny how that happens sometimes.
Filed under Drugs, History, People, Self Analysis, silly humans *rolls eyes* etc, Weblogs
Stuff I Did This Year
(Previously & previouslier.)
I missed most of 2007.
It started excellently, and ended okay. Adventures were had, things were discovered; it was not a total dead loss. But overall it will not be remembered as a banner year on Planet Teigan.
This year, amongst assorted other things (see archives), I:
- Misguidedly started a BA at Melbourne Uni for the second time, and then dropped out after a month for the second time.
- Got kinda down.
- Just about survived winter without going totally insane or throwing myself under a train.
- Gradually got better.
- Got totally ditched, in my absence, by the artist formerly known as Lady J after an extremely Significant & Intense 18-month relationship.
- Spent approximately 680 hours conducting telephone-based social research for money. (The weirdness, the horror, the tedium etc). (Also: The doodling.)
- Somewhat overambitiously applied & was interviewed for a BFA at one of the premier art schools in the country, despite having basically no traditional visual art-type skills or talent at all. Was not accepted.
- Spent what probably cumulatively amounts to several months on Facebook.
- Drank quite a lot.
- Various other things which are none of your damn business. Who the hell are you, anyway? Who are you really? etc
Filed under Art, Drunkenness, F***book, Failure, History, Illusion Of Time, Life, People, Self Analysis, Work