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- Welcome to the Blog of Inanity.
- Me, Myself, and I
- The world sucks, but we prefer to call it gravity.
Good generic time of day. I'd be Nik. That's the main thing. Or so I'm told.
- Badass Music
- I mainly enjoy industrial rock and prog. metal, basic genres tend to be too simplistic. That said, I like a huge variety of music, old and new. There's a big difference between music you'll listen to and music you'll choose to listen to, so here's a few I choose to enjoy: Nine Inch Nails, Razed in Black, Velvet Acid Christ, Skinny Puppy, Tool, Devin Townsend and Strapping Young Lad, Black Sabbath, Mike Patton and Faith No More, Roger Waters and Pink Floyd, David Bowie, Gary Numan, Leonard Cohen, The Sisters of Mercy, Marilyn Manson, Assemblage 23, Swans, Filter, KMFDM, Zeromancer, :Wumpscut:, Placebo, Live, VAST, Radiohead, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Seven Mary Three, Alice in Chains, Metallica, The Offspring, Garbage, The Smashing Pumpkins, The Prodigy, Joy Division and New Order, Type O Negative .. and many more.
- Work Is Pain
- But we do it anyway. I work at TelstraClear five days a week. Surprisingly good fun, for the most part. I used to work at Micky Finn's on Hereford street, so chances are if you've seen me around somewhere before, it was there. Or Granite, where I used to spend far too much time. Nowadays, I'm hiding in your attic and plotting your demise.
- Stuf Wot Rulz
- Reading, writing, painting. Creativity. Taking the time to notice the things no-one else does. Watching what everyone is oblvious to. Walking through parks instead of around them. I enjoy this illusion that we call life. Doesn't that just reek of pretentiousness?
- I Heart
- Having the conversations that make life worth getting up for.
- I Collect
- Transformers and related merchandise. Indeed. I co-administrate the local collectors' site, TransformersNewZealand.com, a bitchin' little community if there ever was one. Mmyeah.
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Considering I'm memorising the thing, here it is for your reading pleasure. Source: http://www.jabberwocky.com/carroll/w...
I dare you to ask me to recite it when drunk. I'll screw it up and hate you for it.
The Walrus and The Carpenter
(from Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, 1872)
The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"
"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."
"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."
"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?
"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"
"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none--
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.
0 Comments 235 weeks
Just before christmas, I went to visit family friends. One of my mother's best friends has two awesome daughters who may as well be my sisters, and although we don't catch up often, it makes no difference how long it's been. Went off to the supermarket, since I was hideously tired and needed energy drinks - they live across the road from the huge Countdown at Northlands. While there, decided to nab them a christmas present. Ever see Ruby Gloom, that ridiculously cute little gothy cartoon? They had a DVD of that there, and I grabbed it since I knew they'd love it.
It was labelled volume one, but when I got it back to theirs, I realised they'd actually given me volume two's disc. Was about to go back to the supermarket to fix it, when their mum stopped me. Turns out she'd bought them the other volume for christmas and hadn't told them, and that had volume one's disc inside - she hadn't noticed. The supermarket only had the two volumes. Of all the people to buy the other, that close to christmas, and get the other mixed-up disc, it had to be me. How deliciously appropriate that was.
Such a cute story was it that we gave them both volumes then and there, and swapped the discs over. A good time was had by all. Aww, ain't dat cute.
And now, a terrible frog poem I wrote at work the other day:
Once there was a little frog
Who sat upon his little log
His friend the toad came ambling by
Clutching a fresh and juicy fly
"Oh toad, oh toad!", the frog did say
For 'twas a lovely summer's day
"Would you be so kind, oh dearest mate
To spare a morsal for my plate?"
Toad looked up, and toad looked down
Across his brow there creased a frown
For frog was quite the mischievous elf
And never did shop for his own self
At Toad's reply Frog gave a groan
"Bugger off and get your own!"
1 Comment 236 weeks
Hey, assorted peoples! It's totally Next Year already, and I've got some marvelous plans tucked away. One of them is revitalising the Blog of Inanity, and although I'm not organised enough for a proper entry right away, I've got an interesting wee something for your reading pleasure. The following is a story I wrote at age 15 for an English assignment. It's fiction, mostly, and a sort of twisted wee read. I'd not seen it in years. There's a perspective shift that I still think is quite clever, it's a shame the ending wasn't as exciting as it implies. But what really ends anyway?
So, behold a byproduct of my teenage angst!
One: Hypothetical Devastation
He sat in silence, time flowing like a river. Time heals all wounds, or so they say. He knows he is broken, that they were wrong. That something is wrong with him. So much hurt, so much pain. Being expected to carry on was the hardest part. The deposed lord of the kingdom of himself.
The clock chimed diligently, one of the few things that remained constant. Everything changes eventually, everything breaks. He didn’t register the clock’s presence, lost in his thoughts. How could anyone have been through this? Why had he never been told he was capable of feeling pain like this?
It had barely been two years, and already it seemed like a lifetime. A lifetime that had come to its bitter end much too suddenly, much too soon. The rest of his own lifetime would still have been too soon.
Yes, two years ago. A chance encounter. He often wondered at all the people he saw every day, whether he would see them again, whether they even registered his existence.
Back then he could laugh, and it wouldn’t ring with hollow emotion. Back then, he was in control. She had come, and she had laughed too. That lovely laugh, so full of life. They talked for hours and time slipped away even faster than it did now. He would treasure those memories forever, however long that might be.
Their friends had said it was as if they were meant to be together. The more they shared, the more they felt it. A person-shaped hole that had been there all along. They were connected.
For the first time in his life, he felt complete. It was worth getting up in the mornings. She had laugh at that, not being a morning person herself.
He swam in an ocean of love for her, for everything. For life. He loved her too much, it seemed. For all they had, for everything they shared, life had other plans. Life wasn’t a fairytale. There were princes and princesses, but there was no happily ever after. Like some Shakespearean tragedy, it had happened. The happiest people fall the hardest, and fall she did. He didn’t know how to help her, how to save her from herself. It began to tear his fragile existence apart.
She was the centre of his world, and she was hurting. He floated on their love while she sank beneath it. He tried to tell her – stupid romantic ideals, the wrong thing at the wrong time. Or perhaps the right thing at the wrong time. She shunned him, and he felt the beginnings of the pain which now surrounded him.
They had pondered why people spoke about love coming from the heart. It definitely came from somewhere down there. But when it went away, everything hurt. He burned with a flame only he could see, a pain that was his alone.
She hid herself away, too far gone for him to save, and she died in the darkness there.
Those two years had indeed been a lifetime, but this couldn’t be a normal part of a normal life. No-one told him it would be this hard. That he would have to carry on. That life didn’t stop, not for anything.
He was supposed to be her friend, and he hadn’t been there when she needed him most, caught up with his own pathetic dreams. She was everything, he was nothing, and now everything was gone.
For days which turned into weeks he sat, staring at the wall of the world, functioning on auto-pilot. A soulless discarded s
2 Comments 237 weeks
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