'Oh!' said the Hatter. 'It seems we have a visitor!'
And indeed, a visitor was to be had.
Her pig tails were blond and her skirt pleated and blue. To the Hatter she said,
"Well, how do you do?"
His laugh was raucous and loud with no hint of sanity to be found.
"Please my dear, do take a seat."
And a seat was taken.
Arrayed before her was a sumptuous but insane feast. Seated beside her was many a foul beast.
'"Before we begin, shall I make some introductions?" said the Hatter.
So introductions were made.
The sly, clever Orangutan. His hat was a pink fez. Getting his own way was he liked the best.
The boisterous Gorilla, with his hands black and blue because eating blackberries was his favourite to-do.
The quiet wee Chimp, his face drenched in sadness. Clearly he'd had enough of this continual madness!
The witty and fey Ape, his face a superior scowl. Look at the people he must tolerate now!
"Goodness!" said Alice. "This is quite the crowd! However will there be enough food to go around?"
Again the Hatter spoke, his mind now clearly unhinged.
"Because, my dear Alice! The food is never-ending!"
At these detached ramblings, Alice cringed.
"But I need your help, so enough of this yakking and idle chit chat. "
So with a nod of his head dishes were brought forward to the man in the Hat.
And so the main course was served. And the Hatter's laughter swelled until the giant hall felt crowded and Alice thought she might drown.
"Alice." said the Hatter.
"Hatter?" said Alice.
"I need your help." said the Hatter.
"With what?" asked Alice.
"Why, with selecting my main, Alice. For I am ever so indecisive. I'm afraid it's a symptom." said the Hatter.
"A symptom of what?" asked Alice.
"Why, of my indecision!" replied the Hatter.
Alice did not care for this line of reasoning. She returned, with haste, to the point.
"What dishes do you have to choose from?" asked Alice.
"Oh, a multitude. Let me show you." replied the Hatter.
With a flourish, he lifted the lid on the first dish. Within it sat a mole. The mole blinked in the candle light, startled. It waited a moment and then fell asleep on it's bed of lettuce.
The second dish contained a hedgehog. It awoke with a snort and made a strange hissing noise. It spat at the mole.
The third dish contained a tiny octopus, it's skin shifting colours between a cool grey and blood red. It surveyed it's company with deep black eyes.
Alice hesitated.
"Mr Hatter..." she began.
"Yes, my dear?" asked the Hatter.
"I do not think your main courses wish to be eaten." she replied.
"Oh, dear Alice! Of course they do not! This is the nature of life!" he spat back.
"I see." Stammered Alice.
As they conversed, the aperitifs ran for their lives.
The hedgehog rolled down the table, the monkeys lunging and pushing. The Orangutan sighed and snatched it easily from the other smaller monkeys. The hedgehog seemed pleased, thinking it was saved from this ravenous bunch. It's final look was one of surprised irony as the big orange beast gobbled it down.
Amongst this commotion, the octopus escaped. It slithered between the legs of the monkeys who were too surprised to catch it.
But they enjoyed the cheap thrill!
The mole remained dozing on his lettuce. Alice and the Hatter stared at it intently, ignoring the furious and loud food fight that had erupted at the table.
"I do not think, Mr Hatter, that it would be fair to eat this mole." said Alice.
"I suppose you are right," sighed the Hatter. "He seems very content with not being eaten."
"Precisely!" agreed Alice.
"And Mole disagrees with me anyway. And when your food disagrees with you, it always wins. And that's not a happy ending." complained the Hatter. "Or rather, my end will not be happy. But then what shall I eat?"
Alice sighed and glanced at the monkey fight.
"Some of that lot could do with being eaten." Alice sighed.
"I could not eat my monkeys! Dear Alice, be serious. I care for them far too much. As terrible as they as polite dinner guests." explained the Hatter.
He paused a moment and stared at the escalating simian battle.
"I think, my dear Alice...that I must find some new monkeys." said the Hatter.
"Mr Hatter, I don't mean to seem rude.." started Alice.
"Oh please my girl, be honest."
"Well, Mr Hatter, I think you'll find that all monkeys are lacking in table manners."
The Hatter turned to look at Alice, his gaze dark and discontent.
"Perhaps, Alice. Perhaps you are right."
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Bits and Pieces
Blogs are easier if your life is interesting....or if you are emo.
Not much has happened in the last few months, although I did have yet another birthday and my baby girl replaced my broken iPod. Hurrah!
These two points aside, it's been pretty quiet on the Brodie front. So instead of having a retrospective blog entry, I will look to the future. We will look toward tomorrow for inspiration!
In a few short weeks, I will return to University full-time and return to Slingshot part-time. My reasons for this are numerous but can be summed up as thus:
Anyway, I'm trying to convince myself uni will be great fun. I'm not having much luck. I see students every day and every day I feel older, grumpier and more detached. I'm no longer the kind of person who will go to University to hang out with my mates at Shadows or to smoke in the Quad with my equally bum-like friends. I'll go because I want to finish my degree. I'll be there to learn. The social urge has been subjected to the horror of the real world and withered away.
Most of you are boring, annoying, disturbed, weird, crazy or otherwise unpleasant. I don't want to know about your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I don't really care what movie you saw on the weekend. I saw Oceans Thirteen and like everything else in life, it was - at best - 'pretty good'. And in a world where the bar is set just below mediocrity and the driving force of youthful naivety is gone, it is hard for me to make new friends. It was hard enough to pretend to care for the sake of your feelings when I was 18, good luck getting me to smile and nod when I'm 22.
But here's the thing...
I think I know the reason why my smiles have become half-heated. The reason why my lemonade is slightly too sour, rather than slightly too sweet.
I'm not at University.
I'm at Slingshot.
If I'm honest with myself, I just didn't get as much out of my last few years as I thought I had. Professionally AND personally. If nothing else, this decision can't make anything worse.
And in this day in age, that alone is enough to make me pretty damn happy. :)
Not much has happened in the last few months, although I did have yet another birthday and my baby girl replaced my broken iPod. Hurrah!
These two points aside, it's been pretty quiet on the Brodie front. So instead of having a retrospective blog entry, I will look to the future. We will look toward tomorrow for inspiration!
In a few short weeks, I will return to University full-time and return to Slingshot part-time. My reasons for this are numerous but can be summed up as thus:
- To get any further then where I currently am at Slingshot (which is where I have been for over a year) I need to pledge my allegiance for at least another year. I was tempted, but:
- I have decided that work is a vicious circle. If you work hard for little reward, in order to gain a reward further down the track, your employer simply decides you should've be working that hard in the first place. You don't get a pay rise. If you revert to taking it easy, you're not working hard enough and you will not be getting a pay rise. It is a lose/lose situation. This is ok if your job is fun and your co-workers nice people. When your job is about as interesting as watching grass-coloured paint dry and your colleagues are the kind of people your parents advised you to avoid, the status-quo is tolerable only for so long.
- As such, University seems more tempting. Because sure, I can find a new job, but then the cycle begins again, just with different names and a cleaner desk.
- Theoretically, at least, University means the next time I get a job it may be in a field that is somewhat interesting.
- Thus, the above cycle begins again, but you're ok with it. Yay!
Anyway, I'm trying to convince myself uni will be great fun. I'm not having much luck. I see students every day and every day I feel older, grumpier and more detached. I'm no longer the kind of person who will go to University to hang out with my mates at Shadows or to smoke in the Quad with my equally bum-like friends. I'll go because I want to finish my degree. I'll be there to learn. The social urge has been subjected to the horror of the real world and withered away.
Most of you are boring, annoying, disturbed, weird, crazy or otherwise unpleasant. I don't want to know about your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I don't really care what movie you saw on the weekend. I saw Oceans Thirteen and like everything else in life, it was - at best - 'pretty good'. And in a world where the bar is set just below mediocrity and the driving force of youthful naivety is gone, it is hard for me to make new friends. It was hard enough to pretend to care for the sake of your feelings when I was 18, good luck getting me to smile and nod when I'm 22.
But here's the thing...
I think I know the reason why my smiles have become half-heated. The reason why my lemonade is slightly too sour, rather than slightly too sweet.
I'm not at University.
I'm at Slingshot.
If I'm honest with myself, I just didn't get as much out of my last few years as I thought I had. Professionally AND personally. If nothing else, this decision can't make anything worse.
And in this day in age, that alone is enough to make me pretty damn happy. :)
Friday, April 20, 2007
I have a very human flaw.
I only have two arms.
This means I cannot play two guitars at once.
This is reasonably annoying. It is a fundamental limitation in musical creation, even more so than dexterity or timing or hand size.
It means that I cannot play a riff over a chord rhythm at the same time.
This puts you in a tricky situation. You play guitar by yourself, and deal with this limitation. You can try to cover this by playing a walking bass line and fill with a lead pattern. This is a bit lame and isn't really the same as playing both parts, independently but at the same time.
So you can join a band. Then someone else can do part of the job. But then you have to deal with other people, and it's not quite the same as creating an independent song on a single instrument.
I therefore propose all humanity be gifted with an extra two arms as required.
--------
Silverchair - Young Modern.
EHhhh.
Pretentious piano (I hate you, Paul Mac. More than you will ever know.). Daniel 'LOOK AT ME! LOOK! MY VOICE IS CRAAAaaAaaAazZY!' Johns. Riffs that sound borrowed from The Dandy Warhols. Vocal harmonies from Blur, Prince's voice and a Fleetwood Mac backing band.
All that aside, it's not a particularly bad album. It's just....it's not angry pubescent Silverchair :(
------------
My new house is bitchin. I am going to get a cat.
But I need to get a fridge and a washing machine first.
This means I cannot play two guitars at once.
This is reasonably annoying. It is a fundamental limitation in musical creation, even more so than dexterity or timing or hand size.
It means that I cannot play a riff over a chord rhythm at the same time.
This puts you in a tricky situation. You play guitar by yourself, and deal with this limitation. You can try to cover this by playing a walking bass line and fill with a lead pattern. This is a bit lame and isn't really the same as playing both parts, independently but at the same time.
So you can join a band. Then someone else can do part of the job. But then you have to deal with other people, and it's not quite the same as creating an independent song on a single instrument.
I therefore propose all humanity be gifted with an extra two arms as required.
--------
Silverchair - Young Modern.
EHhhh.
Pretentious piano (I hate you, Paul Mac. More than you will ever know.). Daniel 'LOOK AT ME! LOOK! MY VOICE IS CRAAAaaAaaAazZY!' Johns. Riffs that sound borrowed from The Dandy Warhols. Vocal harmonies from Blur, Prince's voice and a Fleetwood Mac backing band.
All that aside, it's not a particularly bad album. It's just....it's not angry pubescent Silverchair :(
------------
My new house is bitchin. I am going to get a cat.
But I need to get a fridge and a washing machine first.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
In Flames
Dear Viren,
Today I listened to In Flames.
I want that hour of my life back.
You know I hate that Slipknot-scream-at-the-microphone-over-the-distorted-power-chord crap! Sigh. Leave me to my blues, you open minded bastards!
As much as I try, I've never been able to like that kind of....thrash/metal/rock/yelling thing. I don't know why. It's one of the few types of music I can't get into to :'(
And no, I will not play you any :P
Today I listened to In Flames.
I want that hour of my life back.
You know I hate that Slipknot-scream-at-the-microphone-over-the-distorted-power-chord crap! Sigh. Leave me to my blues, you open minded bastards!
As much as I try, I've never been able to like that kind of....thrash/metal/rock/yelling thing. I don't know why. It's one of the few types of music I can't get into to :'(
And no, I will not play you any :P
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Hello Ladies.
Probably not much point enlarging as it's blurry as hell. My phone was refusing to auto-focus for some reason.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
*BEEP*BEEP*BEEP*
You wake up.
Harsh sunlight burns your eyes. You grunt and wince. The beeping penetrates your skull. On impulse, you reach out and bang around for your ringing cellphone. You manage to divert the call. The throbbing in your head lessens slightly as the noise vanishes.
You lie still for a moment, eyes still squeezed shut, temples hammering. It comes back to you.
Bourbon and nicotine headache.
Carefully you roll over and slowly sit up. You didn't open the window or turn on the fan before you passed out. The sheets under you are damp; one part alcohol, one part sweat, one part drool, one part sunburn peel.
You're dying for a cigarette and manage to find your pack of Marlboros on the bed beside you. You remember that you've woken up alone for the second morning in a row. You remember why you were drinking.
The cigarette is rough, but bliss. It makes your head throb harder. You try to ignore it.
A physical wreck, you flash back to last night...
It's 11pm. Your finger tips are tender to the touch and Holly is still shaking breathlessly in your hands as she has been almost non stop over the last day. Spent, you lay her on the bed. That Strat has been your world for the last few hours - a new experience. Six months after Holly moved in to your life, you have finally made progress. Today, the guitar did not just hum in your hands. It sung. It wept. Briefly. But this is a good sign.
You shower to try and rise off some of the layer of peeling skin and climb into bed and read. It's almost midnight when you get the text. Charlea tells you to get Rui and come to the Ballroom. You reply - Rui won't be coming. She tells you to come get drunk and cry with her. You decide it's worth the effort of putting pants back on.
It's 1am and your last twenty dollars is swallowed in a mouthful of coke and bourbon. Your last cigarette has been smoked. Your work mate thinks you did the right thing, finally. Your work mate also thinks you're a bit of a drop kick.
You agree with your work mate.
With your bank account emptier than your bottle of Beam, you begin to leave. She won't allow it. She spends far too much money on your drinks.
In return, you listen.
You knew what it was she was saying. But now you also understand it.
The bar quietens down as 3am rolls around. You talk to Jazz and Carly. Jazz used to work at Slingshot. You trade stories over the people who are still there and still infamous.
Jimi Hendrix's strat orgasms through a wah pedal and the Ballroom's amplifiers.
Your work mate tells you about her tattoos. You tell her about yours. Well. What they'll be like. You discuss where to get your other ear scalpelled.
Suddenly, it's four thirty in the morning. You're drunk. So is she. So is the bar tender.
Are Minor Threat the most influential punk band ever? Are the Sex Pistols? What kind of punk is being discussed?
The staff shuffle the patrons out in record time. You're steered back your seats of honour at the bar. You're regulars. You're special. You drink more as it all winds down, the lights go out and cash is counted. Smoke rises in rings from your lips as you hunch over the steel counter. The bartender seems slightly beyond tipsy. The jukebox moves from lame to dodgy. You roll our eyes and say your good byes.
You stumble on to K'Rd. Somewhere, a bird chirps and the sky has warmed from black to navy blue. You help your Financier rip a poster off a wall. It's advertising a band you haven't heard of playing at a bar you didn't know existed. You hug and offer your millionth display of gratitude for her generosity and swear to return the favour. You wave politely at the departing cab and somehow make it home.
It's almost 6am. Somehow you get naked and pass out on your bed.
Sleep is beautiful and welcoming.
Harsh sunlight burns your eyes. You grunt and wince. The beeping penetrates your skull. On impulse, you reach out and bang around for your ringing cellphone. You manage to divert the call. The throbbing in your head lessens slightly as the noise vanishes.
You lie still for a moment, eyes still squeezed shut, temples hammering. It comes back to you.
Bourbon and nicotine headache.
Carefully you roll over and slowly sit up. You didn't open the window or turn on the fan before you passed out. The sheets under you are damp; one part alcohol, one part sweat, one part drool, one part sunburn peel.
You're dying for a cigarette and manage to find your pack of Marlboros on the bed beside you. You remember that you've woken up alone for the second morning in a row. You remember why you were drinking.
The cigarette is rough, but bliss. It makes your head throb harder. You try to ignore it.
A physical wreck, you flash back to last night...
It's 11pm. Your finger tips are tender to the touch and Holly is still shaking breathlessly in your hands as she has been almost non stop over the last day. Spent, you lay her on the bed. That Strat has been your world for the last few hours - a new experience. Six months after Holly moved in to your life, you have finally made progress. Today, the guitar did not just hum in your hands. It sung. It wept. Briefly. But this is a good sign.
You shower to try and rise off some of the layer of peeling skin and climb into bed and read. It's almost midnight when you get the text. Charlea tells you to get Rui and come to the Ballroom. You reply - Rui won't be coming. She tells you to come get drunk and cry with her. You decide it's worth the effort of putting pants back on.
It's 1am and your last twenty dollars is swallowed in a mouthful of coke and bourbon. Your last cigarette has been smoked. Your work mate thinks you did the right thing, finally. Your work mate also thinks you're a bit of a drop kick.
You agree with your work mate.
With your bank account emptier than your bottle of Beam, you begin to leave. She won't allow it. She spends far too much money on your drinks.
In return, you listen.
You knew what it was she was saying. But now you also understand it.
The bar quietens down as 3am rolls around. You talk to Jazz and Carly. Jazz used to work at Slingshot. You trade stories over the people who are still there and still infamous.
Jimi Hendrix's strat orgasms through a wah pedal and the Ballroom's amplifiers.
Your work mate tells you about her tattoos. You tell her about yours. Well. What they'll be like. You discuss where to get your other ear scalpelled.
Suddenly, it's four thirty in the morning. You're drunk. So is she. So is the bar tender.
Are Minor Threat the most influential punk band ever? Are the Sex Pistols? What kind of punk is being discussed?
The staff shuffle the patrons out in record time. You're steered back your seats of honour at the bar. You're regulars. You're special. You drink more as it all winds down, the lights go out and cash is counted. Smoke rises in rings from your lips as you hunch over the steel counter. The bartender seems slightly beyond tipsy. The jukebox moves from lame to dodgy. You roll our eyes and say your good byes.
You stumble on to K'Rd. Somewhere, a bird chirps and the sky has warmed from black to navy blue. You help your Financier rip a poster off a wall. It's advertising a band you haven't heard of playing at a bar you didn't know existed. You hug and offer your millionth display of gratitude for her generosity and swear to return the favour. You wave politely at the departing cab and somehow make it home.
It's almost 6am. Somehow you get naked and pass out on your bed.
Sleep is beautiful and welcoming.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Holy crap. What just happened there?
The shock is gone and feeling has settled into my gut. It's pretty rough.
Like...wait, what the fuck? How the hell did this happen?
The crippling anger I've been carrying around for the last 10 or so months finally seems to have been all used up. On Thursday night it exploded into a million tiny shards that overwhelmed me again. I sent some fucking stupid text messages and stormed through the city. I got to my destination. I realised I wasn't even angry. I realised I was being a dick. I realised I already knew. I realised I didn't even give a shit. I was angry at myself for being a tool.
Thursday night was an explosion of emotion that seemed like the others. But it turns out that explosion finally blew a hole through the brick wall inside me. The anger finally drained out.
Unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, nature abhores a vaccum and logic rushed into to fill that new void.
I have been a bit of a fucking idiot recently. Sorry about that, everyone. I've spent so much time being upset over everyone's mistakes that I kinda forgot to look at myself. So I finally did and finally did the right thing.
I finally did the right thing and my angel flew away.
All you can ever do is wait for your own wings to grow back and hope you can catch up huh?
Like...wait, what the fuck? How the hell did this happen?
The crippling anger I've been carrying around for the last 10 or so months finally seems to have been all used up. On Thursday night it exploded into a million tiny shards that overwhelmed me again. I sent some fucking stupid text messages and stormed through the city. I got to my destination. I realised I wasn't even angry. I realised I was being a dick. I realised I already knew. I realised I didn't even give a shit. I was angry at myself for being a tool.
Thursday night was an explosion of emotion that seemed like the others. But it turns out that explosion finally blew a hole through the brick wall inside me. The anger finally drained out.
Unfortunately, or fortunately perhaps, nature abhores a vaccum and logic rushed into to fill that new void.
I have been a bit of a fucking idiot recently. Sorry about that, everyone. I've spent so much time being upset over everyone's mistakes that I kinda forgot to look at myself. So I finally did and finally did the right thing.
I finally did the right thing and my angel flew away.
All you can ever do is wait for your own wings to grow back and hope you can catch up huh?
Monday, January 29, 2007
=-)
I'm bored. So I will share this boredom with you; my adoring fans. I hear there's at least four of you now!
I've had a very reading-heavy week. I started and finished Jodi Picoult's Vanishing Act and David McCullough's 1776.
Vanishing Act was much better than I expected. Whilst laced heavily with oestrogen-driven, illogical emotions, it was a fairly good book. I especially liked the final chapter (although the end in general was a bit weak). "Because you asked." LIKE OMG I WANT TO CRY A LITTLE BIT AND STUFF :( But yeah, good!
1776 was pwnage. Knowing slightly less than sweet fuck all about the War of Independence, it was extra informative. It's been a long time since I cheered for the Yanks, if nothing else :P
Despite the fact that I only got stretched on Saturday, my ear has already stopped throbbing :'( Whilst it's still a bit tender to the touch, it's healing very quickly (touch wood). I think the piercer likes my ear lobes as both times he's stretched it he has always declared his surprise at how well they stretch. Yay for my ears? Picture below is deformed a bit so it doesn't look too different from the one below. In person the jump is reasonably noticeable, however.
I have mostly nailed the riff to the song I'm working on at present. Which I'm kinda proud of. Whilst not overly complex, it's reasonably quick. I'm mostly just glad that I've finally had a moment we're I've noticed my skill improving. Playing guitar is such a gradual process for me that at times I'll sit back and lament that I seem to have made no improvement.
It's weird to think that things I was positive I was doing wrong (such as barre chords) because they seemed so impossible are now heading into the second nature category. And when I feel like I've got chords down, someone else will come along, like riffs, or solos, or barre chords, or scales or a million other things to remind me how impossibly far I have left to go.
I think I can see myself playing the guitar for the rest of my days. It's the one thing in my life I have never felt my interest waning in, even for a second. It's also amazing to know that no matter how long I live, no matter how long I play, I will never know everything. That's both daunting and amazing.
Obligatory gay/myspace/self-portrait follows.
I actually kinda like this picture. Mostly because you can't see how hideously ugly I am when it's at this size (Warning: Do Not Open Picture to Full Size) and because I like the way fingers always so look spastic when freeze framed over a fretboard.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Seven Dwarves
So I don't really have anything to write about these days.
Stuff is pretty normal and things are finally calming down on a lot of fronts.
Apocalypto. hrm. I wouldn't say it was bad, but it definitely didn't deliver what it promised.
Blood Diamond was amazing.
Ps 7mm. Yay for me. And take that 6mm! I don't need you!
The double mm jump is noticeably more painful than the 1mm jump. However, I've decided the pain of stretching is kinda cool. It's a strange sensation - more akin to sunburn than anything else I think. It's the kinda pain that might make your eyes water but doesn't actually hurt. Does that make sense? *shrug*
Stuff is pretty normal and things are finally calming down on a lot of fronts.
Apocalypto. hrm. I wouldn't say it was bad, but it definitely didn't deliver what it promised.
Blood Diamond was amazing.
Ps 7mm. Yay for me. And take that 6mm! I don't need you!
The double mm jump is noticeably more painful than the 1mm jump. However, I've decided the pain of stretching is kinda cool. It's a strange sensation - more akin to sunburn than anything else I think. It's the kinda pain that might make your eyes water but doesn't actually hurt. Does that make sense? *shrug*
Saturday, January 13, 2007
omg remember this game?
Monday 20th November: 1mm
Thursday 31st November: 2mm
Friday 15th December: 4mm
Saturday 13th January: 5mm
Yay! So the 4mm -> 5mm jump took longer than planned because I inadvertanly jumped from 2 straight to 4 without enough lube. So there was blood. So much blood. But 5mm today was sweet as, and I got it done at Ballistic so it was a shit load less hassle. Good times. 6mm should only be 2 weeks away. w00t.
Thursday 31st November: 2mm
Friday 15th December: 4mm
Saturday 13th January: 5mm
Yay! So the 4mm -> 5mm jump took longer than planned because I inadvertanly jumped from 2 straight to 4 without enough lube. So there was blood. So much blood. But 5mm today was sweet as, and I got it done at Ballistic so it was a shit load less hassle. Good times. 6mm should only be 2 weeks away. w00t.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
*sigh*
I don't think I've ever felt this lost and down before.
I have no idea what I'm doing, because I have no idea what I want. 2006 was a year of waste. Evertything I gained in friendships, relationships and professionally in that year has come undone by the end of it. No close friends anymore. A rocky relationship. A job that has settled nicely on to the road to nowhere.
Pick yourself up and try again, right?
I don't know anymore. I did that last year because I knew what I wanted. A job for a year, new friends...
I don't know what I want anymore. Jobs will forever get boring, you will forever end up hating the people you work with - especially when they're not as funny as they think they are. No person can totally be trusted as a friend.
Someone will always be waiting to fuck you over for no reason.
So, in summary? I have nothing. I want nothing.
Except a cigarette.
I have no idea what I'm doing, because I have no idea what I want. 2006 was a year of waste. Evertything I gained in friendships, relationships and professionally in that year has come undone by the end of it. No close friends anymore. A rocky relationship. A job that has settled nicely on to the road to nowhere.
Pick yourself up and try again, right?
I don't know anymore. I did that last year because I knew what I wanted. A job for a year, new friends...
I don't know what I want anymore. Jobs will forever get boring, you will forever end up hating the people you work with - especially when they're not as funny as they think they are. No person can totally be trusted as a friend.
Someone will always be waiting to fuck you over for no reason.
So, in summary? I have nothing. I want nothing.
Except a cigarette.
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