Snooze :-S

Worst hangover ever.
Try to type slowly... and quietly.
Why are the birds screaming.
Work time.
Help.


PunkOnAir : -silencethankyou-

Easy come and easy go

Why am I listening to Nick Lachey? It's so pathetically giving. It's defeatest and grotesque all at the same time. How pathetic. That's so not what I need right now. I need a song about strength. Paulina recommended Mariah's 'Through The Rain'. Uh. I don't think this household is ready for that yet. I'm still relatively new. I'll play it anyway. How tragic.

I'm really drunk on Oomoo red wine. The room is so transparent and still emotionless. I went for a walk around a few blocks of Parkville this evening. It was freezing and I was wearing my big black Genae hoody. I seriously looked like I was going to break into a house, or start a riot. That jumper is criminal.

Okay listening to Mariah now and it's not doing me any favours. It reminds me of Christmas. Did I mention I was on TV for the Carols by Candlelight when I was in the National Boys Choir? Oh my God, I can't believe I revealed that. It's like a fuckin' E-true Hollywood Story. Only, I'm not famous, or beautiful, or talented. Just drunk. Like Whitney. Oh, hang on, she's on crack. She didn't get the memo that crack is wack. This will go down as one of the more pointless blog entries ever, along with any of my entries documenting popular culture or my life in general. It's hard to tell what really matters anymore. Numbness and alcohol is what matters. I think my mothers condition is the cherry on what was a momentous cake of disruption in my life. An inability to sustain any sort of love, and sort of stability, any sort of routine. How could anyone love this? Let's have a drink to drinking the pain away.

Glass of Oomoo anyone?


PunkOnAir : Mariah Carey : Bringin' On The Heartbreak

This is gay.

My father has been really keen for us to get a family portrait done, as it's been something like 15 years since the last.

Mum wants it to be done after her treatment is finished. The terror in her eyes as we discussed it was numbing. Killing.

I know she's a mess on the inside.

I know she's getting the best treatment, the best doctors...all of that, but I still want more for her. Why Freemason's? Why not Cabrini? Who's the doctor? Who's the surgeon? Why the fuck won't anyone answer me?!

Hold my hand

Went back to the parental home today.

Found out my mum may have breast cancer.

What am I supposed to think?

I was a mummy's boy as a kid. Always ran to her when I got hurt, always ran to her for support. The arms of my mother were my cradle. Sleeping in her arms as a boy was the most comfortable I've ever felt. She'd hold my hand when we'd go shopping. Watching her pick out my clothes in Myer... Why can't I stop crying?

Now I'm the one who holds her hand and takes her out to coffee. I stand taller than her and makes sure she crosses the road okay. Rubbing her head when she has a headache. Straightening the furniture so it's at right angles, because she's too small to do it herself. Boiling the water so she can have some tea.

I love her so much. I can't bear to look into her eyes and see her looking back at me, telepathically trying to tell me everything will be okay.

I want her to see me succeed. I want to be able to look after her. I want her to hold my child.

When will the crying end?


PunkOnAir : Kelly Clarkson - Where Is Your Heart?

There's Nothing Wrong

After work. St. Jeromes. Ew. Enough said. Love you Carmel. You hussy.

PunkOnAir : Bjork - Army Of Me

Got me losin it.

Last night. What a great night. Uh. Haven't had such a great night in weeks. A night of silence, relaxation and the perfect amount of company. Living in a house with three others is somewhat strenuous upon the need to have some isolation, and then on top of that, one has to take into account that those three other house members do actually have friends. More company.

I decided to travel home by tram tonight. First time trekking back to Parkville alone and by tram. I pulled the stop cord too early, luckily other people needed my trial stop. I walked in the door to a warm Victorian home. Silent and with only one light on. It was beautiful. Walking straight to my room, I dumped my stuff, and stripped to my jocks and my white shirt. As I told Brad, very Carrie Bradshaw. My computer and me. Good Times. Btw, no sexual relation between my computer and me being in my jocks...

It was so good to just sit at the dining table and do nothing. Just sit there and appreciate the silence. As I told Imma today at work, I was in some major need of isolation. Leaving a relationship tends to make me crave the companionship of friends. But always at some point, I reach psychotic break, and just need to be alone. That was yesterday.

After I got over the isolation, I called Chalks and we headed to get take out. I stuffed my face with a dinner for two (I'm pregnant) from KFC. The stupid slag (really, she was a stupid slag - apparently they don't just exist in Sydney) behind the counter gave us such attitude, I should've slapped her.

I've been working on some drafts for Imma's invitation. Nothing really concrete yet, so I thought I might leave you with some production photos. Lol. Wanker.



The fucking crystals. Eyelash glue, crystals and Joseph's crazy music.



1:30am. Tired and fucked. But all good. Imma wanted to wear the crystals home. No darling. No.

Got to get ready for work.


PunkOnAir : Rihanna - S.O.S

...something I can't say...

Just finished Imma's photo shoot. Fucking pasting on 80 crystals to her face is a tedious task. It's 1:51am. I will never sleep again. I'm running on empty, surprise, surprise.

Paulina, I need you right now.

You know that feeling when you feel completely useless? When you feel like you have absolutely no control over anything? No matter what you feel inside, no matter how much you think, nothing ever happens the way you think it will. My expectations of -everything- have been jaded.

I kind of want to tell everyone to fuck off and stop judging me. Leave me alone, and let me deal. You know the problem with blogs? Everyone who reads them thinks you are talking about them, or they assume you're talking about an issue you're having with them. Interpretations are fucked. And I bet everyone reading this is thinking that this blog entry is about them, but they'll choose to ignore the fact, and continue to assume that I'm talking about someone else.

No matter how fucking well you know me, you don't. No one ever will. There are people out there who I want to know me the most, more than anyone else, so my capabilities of love, and waging trust, are indeed valid. But I really can't cope with someone saying that I'm taking advantage of one of my best friends, I can't cope with someone abusing me for something I didn't even write about them, I can't cope with being kept in the dark over something that concerns me, when -everyone- else knows what the fuck is going on. All I get is silence.

Perhaps I've had a -really- long day. But no way, no more. Let me go.

Have you ever thought he may put himself out there too much? That there may be someone else that means anything to me in my life? That I fucking love you too much to stay silent? Don't bother answering me. I know there's nothing to say.


PunkOnAir : Natalie Imbruglia - Left Of The Middle

Scars And Tears

Scared. And cold. But okay.

Trepidation.

why can't i hear you scream
well all i see are the inflictions
why do all good things come to an end
the sparkle fades
then you see the real me

perhaps i should hide from myself
perhaps i should hide from divinity
hidden place
should i hide from you

if you ever imagine yourself happy
you're so distant
and i know it's my fault
everything is, everything that matters to me

touch your scars
hear your screams
taste your tears

then you see the real me

Empty Coffee Cups

I'm home. I have been for a few days, but I'm back in the swing of my hectic Melbourne life and I must say, I love it. I ended up needing to get away from Sydney, - ironic really, a holiday from my holiday - after needing a holiday from life.

I appreciate the routine, and at times, the monotonous lifestyle. Getting up at 8:30, showering, putting on my uniform. I looked in the mirror this morning and saw the black suit, the black shirt and thought, 'Home.'

Sydney was scattered. I was scattered in Sydney. It was the perfect escape, and at the same time, the catalyst for me to realise who I need to be right now, an what I need to do. There are lots of commas in this entry. Forgive my poor punctuation.

Just changed my background. Green. How tranquil. I feel at peace sitting here in my bedroom, 1:30 am, playing Kelly Clarkson. My room. My computer. My music. It's been a long time. I'm still looking for Love. I need to take the pictures down from my heart. I can finally put up some new images. It's my life and it's up to me.

My room's not sorted yet. Still bits and pieces lying around. The housemates found the buttplug Maurizio gave me for my 21st. Please, as if. Clothes are littered around, lamp on the floor, Cambodian artifacts strewn. I need to organise my CD's into alphabetical order. I can't find shit. Where the fuck is my Veronica's album?? The house listened to my copy of Lauryn Hill's 'Miseducation...' tonight, and I almost cried. I couldn't stop thinking of her performance in Dave Chappelle's 'Block Party' of 'Killing Me Softly'.

//strummin' my pain with his fingers
singin' my life with his words
killin' me softly with his song

tellin' my whole life with his words
killing me softly with his song//

Had Product Night for work tonight. Drainer. Had to sit in a stuffy room with a bottle of water, trying to compliment Art on his not so fabulous summer range. White. Everything is white. Racist. Lol. We went to Pearl for drinks. Another fluff fest where I had to caution my words, making sure there was nothing they could pin me on in the managers meeting tomorrow. Fuckers. Uh. I love them, but hate them. Pearl is great. I might take BJ there while he's in town, though everything was deep fried for some reason, and it was a bit wanky Sydney. Perfect.

I'm up way too late. But I can't sleep. So much has happened in the last 48 hours, my life is spinning a million miles per hour. I'm glad i'm home to have a base. I wish I knew where I stand with everyone. It's funny how I feel so busy in silence. And the silence is deafening.

I miss Paulina too much. Never too much, sorry. I have to do the photoshoot for Imma's birthday tomorrow night. Freakin' crystals. Freakin' i-D magazine. Freakin' Beyonce. Ah well. It's gonna be at Eve... and then at 161, on the down low. So it's sure to be a good night. I need time to compose myself I think, which is probably why I'm sitting here typing at 2 in the morning.

Returned to work this morning, with a tonne of papers waiting for me, all disorganised, clumped in the back of the diary, which had fallen down from the shelf under the counter, because the shelf had collapsed...on top of the empty coffee cups and the coke bottle (which shouldn't even fuckin' be there anyway). It's so my life right now. So I had a great draining morning. This fucking i-Mac won't load up my photos, nor will it let me change the font size and stuff. It's fucked. Lol.

I wish the days would pass. I want the silence to end. I miss you.


PunkOnAir : Janet Featuring Q-Tip - Got 'Til It's Gone

It's 2:43 Wednesday 26.07.06, not 8 am. This computer is fucked.

LG, Grundig. If it's not Sony, it's the same shit.

Terrible, terrible Sydney weather. Karen's beautiful upstairs bathroom has a flat panel of glass on the roof which allows you to see up. Well, duh. I was showering this morning while boogie-ing to Justin's 'Rock Your Body' and the sound of torrential rain on glass is very scary, let me tell you...

Recovering from a great day yesterday. Really great day.

Chalks and I ventured to Oxford Street yesterday to do some more shopping, following up on our day at Bondi Junction. It was raining and too cold. I managed to buy a bright yellow stripey top from Nudie. It was one of those 'I'm yellow and so is my top... Is that going to clash?', but Chalks said it made me look darker, I knew then, it had to be mine. Can anyone say 'Arq on Sunday night'?

We met up with Brad, Dove and (insert-really-strange-person-with-no-name-here) at The Oxford and we had a Stella. We took Brad with us and went shopping for our dinner party (the three of us) which was to occur later that evening. I tried so hard to keep Chalks from flying off the handle, stressing about everything from Leeks (I received an SMS in the supermarket as he was searching for them, saying, 'Omg, I'm going to cry') to the way the checkout guy packed an Avocado. I mean, I love avocadoes, but a line has to be drawn. Crazy boy. Love him.

Brad bought three bottles of white wine to compliment the two bottles of red that we already had stashed away. We headed home from Broadway to commence Chalks' 3 hour preparation period. Brad and I settled into the red, knowing that we'd need to keep the white for dinner. We got really trashed. Two bottles down, we started on dinner.

Chalks managed to throw together an awesome Italian soup albeit without the pasta, and the best Chorizo and Chicken Hot Pot ever! I had the best time, good food, good wine, good company. Uh, if only my life could always be like this. We pretty much finished all the wine, which when looking back I realise is completely fucked.

I got a call from Imma, which is pretty blurry as well, but I know she asked me to design the invitation to her birthday in 3 weeks. She had seen Jessica's invitation in the diary at work, and asked Luke whose it was. Luke told her it was mine. God love her. It's a glamour theme, so I'm seeing stars, with maybe a 'Stars Are Blind' theme. Paris. Hot. Imma doesn't know yet. Haha.

We decided to roll a few joints. In retrospect, not the smartest idea considering we'd just eaten heaps and we'd drank a shitload. Everything from this point becomes a complete blur. There are flashes of memory that shift into my mind from time to time. We went outside and had the joints, giggling and talking absolute shit. I struggled to get back upstairs after that, and after a short period of wandering around, Chalks and I both ended up in the bathroom, with me slumped around the toilet seat. Spewing. For the fourth time in my life, I was smashed beyond belief. In true Chalks/Dean style, after I spewed, it was Chalks' turn. It was actually really funny, even at the time, and poor Brad, sitting outside, asking if everything was okay, with me screaming 'Don't come in, I don't want you to see me like this!' Ahh. Good times.

The sun is coming out. I want to buy another pair of shoes. So tired right now. Scotty's coming tonight! Whoo hoo!!


PunkOnAir : Rihanna - Unfaithful

You wish you never met her at all - Take 2

Oh fuck. Lost my entry.

Just got back from Stonewall. I'm so drunk. Chalks has passed out on the couch. We had dinner at a little restaurant called Saap Thai? I originally thought it was SuckThai, thought that was a bit Nelly Furtado - Promiscuous, so thank God. Oh my God, I'm smashed. We spent dinner with three lovely boys, JJ, Abraham and Ramil. Oh, so gorgeous.

One was (half?) Cambodian, one was Filo, put me in the middle and we're Destiny's Child, or an Asian combination salad. I'm so Beyonce. Or Avocado. Love Avocado. Anyway. Chalks and I then went to Equilibrium at World Square and polished off a bottle of red. Oh dear. Smashed. We then headed to Malebox at Stonewall. Whoosh! Smashed.

Had another drink, and Chalks almost fell over. There were a few hotties, but nothing worth anything. The music got my attention! Mariah, Rihanna, Paris and Katie U, they played them all. Uh, love it! Smashed. Oh dear. Tragic. You can tell we're from Melbourne.

I was number -let me check- 243 at Malebox. So hot right now. Lol. I didn't get to check my male/mail. Goddammit! Ah well. No need.

Oh so groggy. Dizzy. Vomit. You so didn't need to know that. It's not even 12 and we're fucked. Fucked. Asians and mixing drinks should never occur. Small bladders suck.

Anyway. Brad, you're so doing Arq with us on Sunday. There are lots of exclamation marks in this entry! Yay! Bring on The Veronica's!!!

I love boys. Boys are cute. Love to you all (-subliminal Kylie reference)!!


PunkOnAir : Nelly Furtado - Maneater

You wish you never ever met her at all

I'm bringin' Sexy back

Today was a hideo-so-hideous day in Sydney. Torrential rain central. Chalks and I really wanted to get out of the house, so we decided to go shopping. We headed to Bondi Junction.

Bondi Junction, is Sydney's attempt at Chadstone. Only, the logistics of Bondi isn't really formatted for a shopper. The only area that made any sense was the homewares section, that was collated in one corner of the centre. Everything else was scattered around the 5 level complex.

Bradley J met up with us too (uh, could he be anymore adorable?), and we grabbed a bite in the foodhall overlooking the harbour which is stunning in Summer, not so much in rainy weather, but still beautiful nonetheless.

On precious advice from Brad and Chalks, I bought the above shoes from Onitsuka Tiger. I'm still not sure whether the boys actually like them, they're very 'fashion badly' (the shoes, I mean) but who cares. I'll just make 'em sexy. Uh, I love that store. I want one for myself. If I could have sex with a shoe store, it'd be that one. Haha. I'm imagining it with a funky tee, and my black skinny Roy jeans. Hotness. Yay!

Contemplating whether to go to Malebox at Stonewall tonight, after potential dinner plans with Diviya and Jessica. It's cold and wet, though I have new shoes, though I don't want to spoil them yet, though I want to wear something new, though I shouldn't. Decisions, decisions.

So when am I moving to Sydney?

PunkOnAir : Justin Timberlake - SexyBack

If you see something, say something

Enjoyed a really beautiful day at Watson's Bay today. Caught a ferry from Circular Quay and headed to the Gap. It was such a beautiful view. Everything in my life seems to take on a different meaning when I'm near the water, my perspective flips and my shoulders tense. I kept thinking of the freedom I felt standing on the cliff edge, looking down on the salty water crashing on the rocks, before ultimately running back into the ocean and becoming part of a mass particle that I would never be able to comprehend.

Reflective nightmare; this place is (sorry to sound like freakin' Yoda). I keep thinking about my life, what I want from it, who I want from it, and when I want everything. I look around, and see opportunity, I see all the things I know I'd be good at, and try to choose the best path for me. It's a nightmare.

Just ordered a shitload of Thai food from www.cuisinecourier.com. I don't think Chalks and I realised how much there would be. There were five dishes, and now I'm stuffed to the brim. Can't move.

These signs are littered around Sydney's transport system, trying to promote awareness to prevent terrorism. Personally, I didn't think about terrorism, I thought about Mariah.

Now I'm thinking about hearing Mariah at Arq on Sunday night. Oh, the excitement. I can't believe this is a viable blog entry. Chalks wants to watch 'The Ring'. Maybe we should. In a large old Victorian style house, with the two of us (wimps at the best of times) watching 'The Ring'... It should be an interesting night.

Running. Jibberish.

I can't stop listening to Mariah's 'Always Be My Baby'. Thanks Scotty...

Sydney is fucking with me. There's a plethora of emotions running through this city. So many things can coax me into thinking life is much more than it really is. Hyde Park has made dreams come true for me. The morning sun energises me. Hyde Park can shatter all reality. Dreams, is that all that I am?

Can't stop running. Can't stop feeling indifferent.

It's so mid-nineties. Reminds me of singing in the shower at home. Crying. In tears on the floor. Cut me loose.

Sit. Stare. Stay.



Shower time.


PunkOnAir : Mariah Carey - Always Be My Baby

Get Together

It's all an illusion
There's too much confusion

Down in your heart
Find the secret
Turn your head around
Baby we can do it
We can do it all right

Do you believe in love at first sight
It's an illusion, I don't care
Do you believe I can make you feel better
Too much confusion, come on over here

I searched my whole life
To find the secret
But all I did was open up my eyes
Baby we can do it
We can do it all right

Do you believe that we can change the future
Do you believe I can make you feel better

Can we get together
I really wanna be with you
Come on, check it out with me
I hope you feel the same way too

It's all an illusion
There's too much confusion
I'll make you feel better
If it's bitter at the start
Then it's sweeter in the end

Know In Your Heart

//And we'll linger on
Time can't erase a feeling this strong
No way you're ever gonna shake me
Darling, 'cause you'll always be my baby//

Wanna go to Arq and just get fucked - Part 2

Fuck. Monday morning and I've got Paris in my head again. Jesus. I should call this blog 'The Paris Revelations'.

Chalks was winging yesterday that he didn't have as many 'fun' hallucinations at Arq as I did. Haha. Crazy boy. Though there were some good ones. Chalks and I both experienced seeing people wearing glasses, and personally I thought everyone had chosen really really bad glasses. None of them sat right, and they all had really fucked up shaped lenses. Really unattractive. There was one point where we were sitting outside the main room with Brad and thought that there was a coffee table around the chairs, so we're both trying to get around the coffee table, or put our feet up on it, when there was actually nothing there. So tragic.

A few times I reached out to grab something that wasn't there, the most embarrassing being while I was on the podium and stopped dancing to grab -something fucked up, I can't remember- then realising there was nothing there and putting my face in my hands and saying to myself, 'Fuck, how embarrassing, I'm hallucinating on a podium at Arq' but then I realised I'm surely not the first, and wouldn't be the last.

I was on the podium on my own... Or maybe Dafi was with me... I'm not too sure. Brad, Chalks, Freddy and Simon and the girls were around the podium, all just chilling. Freddy, Simon and the girls were contemplating going home. It was about 6am. Then, it was all over. Mariah came on. 'Don't Forget About Us'. It was Mariah at Arq, and I was on a podium. So hot right now. Freddy, Simon, Daniel and the girls headed home after that. It wouldn't been such a perfect ending to the night for Simon, a fellow avid-Mariah lover.

Chalks, Brad and I hung out for a few more hours, with the upstairs club closing at 8am. The last song was Heather Smalls 'Proud'. It was so loud, and so powerful, I knew I had to dance. That song has so much meaning to me. Not because of the lyrical content, but because of the love that B had for it. I almost cried. I do miss him, but I thought it felt more like a tear over closure. I know I'll see him grow more and more. I so want to see the person he becomes.

I look into the window of my mind

Reflections of the fears I know I've left behind

I step out of the ordinary

I can feel my soul ascending

I'm on my way

Can't stop me now

And you can do the same

There's so much I want to get out of Sydney. I expect so much from this city. I don't know why. It's just a place. It's an alternative Melbourne. It's like my second blog. It's a place that allows me to do everything I can't elsewhere. At night, it's a haven for me to wash everything clean. During the day, it becomes a reflective nightmare. Hyde Park. Uh. I've gotta get away from the computer for a bit. Be back soon... maybe.

Wanna go to Arq and just get fucked - Part 1

Currently coming down from a huge night/morning at Arq. Took two pills in halves over 4 hours. Hallucination central. It was such an awesome night. We hit the Shift downstairs to start, at around midnight. It was pretty shit. There was some good music, but the space on the dancefloor was minimal. The crowd just wasn't right. So we pushed onto Arq.

I had hesitation about going to Arq, since it was the place where I had my one and only really bad pilling experience. So I went with caution, limiting our intake, and making a rule that no one was to source from within the club. The rules were abided by. And we all had a great time.

Freddy and Simon were off their tits within 30 minutes of being in Arq. Every time I'd run into Freddy, he'd scream at me like we were lost brothers, and proceed to hug me, tell me that he loves me, and then commence some sort of crazy massage technique on my back. No one could escape his grasp. It was hysterical. Simon looked amazingly happy. Everything was nice to him. 'This is so nice' was his catchphrase of the evening. 'Nice'? I don't think anyone would have ever before described Arq as being 'nice'.

Lisa and Mega, two of Freddy's close friends also joined us out at Arq, I didn't realise they were coming, but as soon as I saw them outside the Shift, I knew we'd have a good time. I loved dancing with Mega, she was like Paulini mixed with every other black Diva. She had the hair, the moves, the body, she was awesome.

When we entered Arq, they started playing a fucking amazing version of Rihanna's 'S.O.S.'. There was a part where the beat just broke completely down, becoming much like a pummelling stone on a construction site. Soon after, Madonna's 'Get Together' came on. I really liked the version that they played, it wasn't too far from the original, though the beat was a lot dirtier and the vocals were syncopated against the beat. I was feeling really drained after standing forever at the Shift, and felt like I was going to collapse, so Chalks and I went to sit behind the stage and chill. I messaged Brad, and got him to come over from Palms where he lost his Rolex. No, not a Folex. A Rolex.

Freddy, Dafi, Mega, Lisa found Andrew and I on the dancefloor, and Freddy encouraged me to teach them a part of the routine from Madonna's 'Hung Up'. Never resisting a challenge (any dance related), I agreed, and before too long, all of us were side stepping, crossing our arms, and clapping. It was hot. It was hilarious. We looked like a crazy Asian dance troupe taking over the Arq floor.

Desire is such a beautiful word.

Oh my god. So excited right now. Tomorrow I'm going to Sydney. Actually, in around 24 hours I will be there. The trashiness. The lack of culture (no good coffee anywhere, what will I do?). The lack of diverse fashion. The lack of straight roads. Love it. Hot a la Paris Hilton style.

The Pussycat Dolls at the Shift. Mariah at Arq. Mary J. at Slide. It's all about the music. Rock'N'Roll baby! Yeah!

I'm so deluded right now. You know that delusional stage where you're so excited about so many things that it just overwhelms you and you end up doing freaky shit like finding bed wheels in cars?

I feel weird having moved into Parkville, with no internet...at least until Thursday... that's a whole other issue altogether. But my blog has been an extension and a expression of emotion that I have held so dearly over the past few weeks, and my computer in Parkville feels a bit lost. Stagnant even. I hate having no connection to the outer world. My phone gets me through the tough times, but the internet is my savior. That's so Asian. I can't believe I'm writing this. I'm telling you, delirious right now. And it's the middle of the day. How unfortunate for me.

Freddy and Simon are coming up too. And Daniel. And maybe Patrick. And maybe Scotty. And maybe my sister.

Paris Hilton just came on Windows Media Player. Damn. Love it. Trash.

Went to Drews new place in South Melbourne last night. It had the best view I'd seen in such a long time. It was so therapeutic.

Can't wait to dance with Jessica in Sydney. Dance all my troubles away. God, she's so hot right now. A gay man torn, I'm telling you, torn. Haha.

Came home last night to Joseph, Erin and Carmel all talking about love, and love interests. Joseph couldn't pin point my 'type of guy'. It's funny how I don't even know my type of guy. Does that make me a slut? Or just down to earth? Interpretations are funny. Anyway. We're organising a house warming, and I thought of using the ManRay poster that is in our kitchen/lounge on the invitation in some way or another. I think it's pretty cool.

I tried to upload it just then, but the fucken thing is not working. Damn the internet. I will try again soon.

PunkOnAir : Pink - Who Knew

Cruising Dark Clouds

Uh. So hot right now. Too intelligent, too creative, too normal. Actually, not too anything.

Scott Przibella

I've had one of those days. Hectic, painfully busy, strenuous and mind-numbing. All too simultaneously. I picked up Chalks this afternoon after he finished work, and after I've finally moved 99% of my belongings and my bedroom is finally taking shape (I'll take photo's and post them when it's done), I took some time to reflect in the car while waiting for him to finish.

I had parked opposite the Epworth Rehabilitation centre. The sunset, juxtaposed against the old Victorian building from the late 1800's and the cruising dark clouds, made me reminisce of the times I'd lay in the middle of the oval at Xavier after school and look up. It brought me back to a time where, comparatively, I had no problems. I felt better, and finally, after over two months, I felt calm. Things have started to come together. Really, everything will be fine. Fuckin' finally.

Btw, I just need to vent. Stupid slags at KFC. Get fucked.

PunkOnAir : Nelly Furtado - In God's Hands

Parkville Penthouse

Help me. I can't stop watching Paris' "Stars Are Blind" video. It's just so hot. She's so simple, but so hot. The fact that I recognise half her poses from her infamous porno, doesn't deter me one bit. I think I'm going to buy the single. Purely for the remix, that is, as there are like 6 remixes... There's gotta be at least one good one in the bunch.

Moving house is a bitch. Especially when you do it alone. And you have to sort through stuff to find what's yours, what's your ex's, and what you have to split. The apartment is so cold now, so lifeless, so stone-cold. It's almost unbearable to be in, to look around and see where everything was, everything we had, to realise the pain, the heartbreak, the pleasures. Then to walk outside and get on with life, and get over it. It's an amazing experience. Every time I'd start the car to leave with another carload, I'd have a therapeutic feeling burst inside my heart. The slate is being cleaned. My heart is growing again. And it feels great.

I spent some time chilling with ex-cum-current housemate Carmel over tea and chocolate, and we reflected on lover's contradictions, the cynicism and the obscurities. She a great girl to talk to, especially when you have nothing else to do, and all you want to do is bare your heart and soul to someone who will relate it to their life even when you thought it was least possible, and then give you life-changing advice, an outsiders view, and reassurance. It was precisely what I needed as I moved my precious "The Face" magazine collection, my CD's and my illustrious collection of Tiger shoes (which need to be drycleaned - uh!).

On the way to pick up Chalks from work, I was roped into abusive phone calls to my area manager, calling me to 'tie up loose ends before I go on annual leave'. Translation : Scream the fuck at you while you scream your side of the story back to him before him realising that he's wrong. It was horrendous. I've never really become so worked up about work issues. I'm not a manager who complains a lot, mostly because a) I'm happy with my staff, I know they do the job properly and I train them well, and b) my store runs just fine. They take that as me having no balls, so when they start bashing me over the head with little insignificant issues, I get angry. What's worse is that I'm on annual leave. I shouldn't have to put up with this crap, but in order to look like I'm taking on responsibility (that I don't necessarily need to anyway) it would be suicide not to address the issues head on.

Anyway. I picked up Chalks, and we met Freddy and Simon to go to Chadstone to see 'Little Man'. It was shit. Don't see it. We didn't even pay and I wanted a refund. It's just shit. We went to Sugo's for dinner, and for some reason, my appetite was no where near the norm, and I was almost full after the ciabatta, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. But I ploughed through (;-)) and managed to finish (with Chalks) a duck risotto. Yum.

On the way home, Chalks and I managed to exhaust some spontaneity out of Freddy and Simon, convincing them to come to Sydney on Friday, for the weekend. I'm so excited. I haven't had a break in awhile, and my mind is on the verge of melting. Really. Melting. So much to do, so much time, and so little money. How the world manages to suck the fun out of my life all the time, is beyond (I almost wrote Beyonce... That's so gay) me.

Can't wait for the music in the Sydney clubs... Personal audio delights for me to feast on while I'm there, I hope will include, Mary J.'s "Be Without You" (still a classic), Beyonce's "Deja Vu", Justin's "SexyBack", Mariah's "Say Something" (David Morales Club Mix), a dirty house version of Paris' "Stars Are Blind" and Christina's "Ain't No Other Man". Boys beware! If you're in a two metre vicinity of me when any of these songs come on, yo' ass is gonna be a' shakin'! Fuck. Can't wait.

Check this out too. It's soo cool.










PunkOnAir : Beyonce Featuring Jay-Z - Deja Vu

Luurrve.

Okay, I've done a blogthing. One of those things that asks you questions that have no real relation to you whatsoever, so you choose the closest answer and hope that you appear normal... when you know you're really a freak. I guess I just needed a reassurance that love does exist.

Your Love Style is Eros

For you, love is all about the passion!And chances are, you're currently in love.You have a strong physical response to love...And you are great at committing (As long as the person makes your toes curl!)

What's" Your Love Style?

PunkOnAir : Nelly Furtado - Let My Hair Down

An Asian Rhythm Nation

This is some freaky shit. Surfing the net in the early hours of Saturday morning is a dangerous thing. You've gotta love the intro's with the crazy voice over and the funky Asian writing. The crowd shots of excitement are hysterical. God, they love the Jacksons.

Friday Night St. Jerome's

Finally working out a new blog to give what's not given on my other blog. I can see a 'single-child' syndrome affecting my two blogs. We'll just see how it goes.

St. Jerome's was the venue of choice tonight, with the company of Chalks and Paulina... and her hot hot hot boyfriend Joel who was working there. I want to be fresh for tomorrow's day of work, so I didn't drink... Just a bit of hash. It got me happy, but it didn't do much for the drive home, as it was raining and the kerbs in the M-Class weren't showing up as well as they usually do. Kind of ironic that I'm sitting in front of a computer at 3am typing a blog entry, hoping that I'll be fresh for work tomorrow, but who gives a shit? Really, it's my last day before I take two weeks of annual leave. All I'm hoping is to make budget so I can take some extra kitty to Sydney and get fucked up.

St. Jerome's was awesome, and I wasn't even intoxicated. Within ten minutes of being there, a guy came up to me and wanted Chalks and I to join him and his girlfriends for drinks... She was checking me out, I know, but to send him over? Tragic. I told him I was gay, and nicely gave him and his friends the brush off. Chalks seemingly got hit on by this quasi-straight guy who kinda didn't have a girlfriend... And Paulina was told how stunning she was by an Indian girl, and after Paulina pointed out Joel, the Indian girl proceeded to tell Paulina how she thought Joel was hot too. Threesome? Paulina was not impressed.

It ended up raining on us, so we danced infront of our milk crates and plank-of-wood for a table (which we stupidly knocked twice, sending patron's drinks flying) and imitated other wannabe filo's who soo could not dance. Paulina and Chalks tried to make a joint, and after some frustration, I took a bit of a cigarette container packet to make a funnel. Happy times followed. So it's just past 3am now and Chalks has passed out between my mattress and the TV (a metre) while playing Grand Theft Auto. And the weekend begins.


PunkOnAir : Curtis Mayfield - Move On Up

I saw a new heaven / and a new earth

This is a calling. A vocation. A passion. Abandon the hatred, the tears, the conflict. It's all here waiting. Here is my revelation to you. Things are not what they seem, but all will clear and a path shall expose. Nothing but truth.


PunkOnAir : Coldplay - Clocks [Deep Dish Remix]