Christmas

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E: MERRY CHRISTMASS !
S: im not christian so that's technically pretty offensive
S: it should just be "happy holidays"

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.23rd - Upon the merry 23rd of the lonely month of Decemeber, a bunch of kids (I included) decided to run along with a bag full of munchies and five dollars to attend the rehearsals of the traditional annual "Carols by Candlelight" held every Christmas Eve. I think.

In the gates we went to the sounds of a terrible rendition of Ave Maria, blasting out of the Myer Musical Bowl. But the sky was blue with not a cloud in sight. The sun was shining and everyone seemed to be infused with the Christmas Spirit. One couldn't help but smile.

These were the rehearsals, so they did redo, and redo certain songs and acts over and over again, all of which didn't get far too annoying. Which in mainly because each rendition were separated by lack of carols and music all together. It was overall generally uneventful, and sometimes we (who love music at our ears) cringed in pain as the little choir boy's voices seemed to conjure a cheese grater, and as the sounds wafted over the hill, the grater began it's journey up and down the side of your face.

Ok, it wasn't THAT bad. I just found it annoying.

An indiscriminate amount of time passed, then suddenly there was great a upheaval, and the cocky hosted announced that there was going to be a special surprise appearance from Hi-5! I hate them, I really do. I was hoping that they would invite the Wiggles, because they ARE generally better in every way, shape form. Sadly, they didn't appear in their big red car. Humphrey the bear turned up though.

B: Why doesn't Humphrey ever talk?
E: Because they cut out his vocal cords when they chained him as a dancing bear.
W: That's horrible.

And now the terrible atrocity! Humphrey with his muffled sound, indicated that there was a giant present sneaking it's way onto the stage. The silly Hi-5 members enthusiastically ran towards the box. The suspense was great. Mother lead their little children closer to the stage. "We have a special visitor" the crew exclaimed! Then, with the full attention of the audience, the giant box opened, and out came Santa! Or at least that's what the Hi-5 crew exclaimed. What everybody else saw, was a little different.

It's pictured below.

Seriously. Why would you do that?
Fair enough it wasn't a dress rehearsals, but if you're letting the public in, many who have brought along little toddlers and children, you could at least keep the great lie a secret to their young minds!

The day moved onto night. Glow sticks were broken out, Candles were lit. I spent the rest of the night flirting with fire. Thus the header.

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.nativity - About two weeks ago, a friend of mine approached me and asked if I could help with the nativity scene a church. Whole heartedly I agreed. I was given a brief, an example, a style to folloand a deadline. I had a week to do it. And because of it, I was forced to cancel a nice would of been trip to Chadstone to bowl. Pity.

The concept that I was given was terrific. I thought it was brilliant. There were two illustrations that were to be done. One side, was a nativity scene of the modern day world, homeless gathering for a Christmas party around a fire. The other was of the traditional nativity scene. Now, these two scenes, were to be stuck against each other, back to back. The modern side faces on audiences, and the traditional side faces away. Behind this illustration, is a mirror.

Another friend, Alan, was given the job of illustrating the modern scene; I was given the ancient nativity scene:
The concept was intended to illustrate the love and joy of Christmas. The meaning of the Christmas tradition in the modern do world. What we see first is the homeless gathering at the shelter with a couple of dogs. But if we look closer, into the reflection, we see ourselves standing amongst those present at the ancient nativity scene. Although obviously, this concept all sounds better in writing, in practice, not so much.

This was how it turned out:

The little angles at the top were done by the children in our parish with colour pencils and markers.

my work, in ze refleztionz
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MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Trios (ix)

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I kept flicking through all 26 channels of programmable static. There was nothing but trashy sit-com's, sports and recycled news on the moving picture box. I kept flick through the channels, click click click.
"Who are they?" Ice cubes tinkled in the bourbon glass as it was brought up to the owners lips.
"Who?" I didn't even bother to look around, I knew Smuck had decided to pay me another visit. I continued to stare into the endless rhapsody of television static.
"Those monster's banging on the window" he replied. His voice quivered near the end.
I sighed and turned my head around to look at him in his clever suit. I followed his out stretched pointing hand.
"Just some old ghosts." I grunted.
"They look angry"
"I'm not at all surprised"

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funny, that looks like Alana's house.

Passing Time

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Time is made for it

It's been a while since I last blogged. I have to say I haven't done much with myself. There were many days spent sitting in front of the computer, running away to strange enchanting worlds with the sole purpose of making the sun rise and fall quickly. There were only a few days which were spent around friends. They were merry; brief, but recharging.

.interviews - These were supposed to be much more important to me than my exam results; for whether or not I get into my course of choice: industrial design, is compeltely based upon . So armed with my little arsenal consisting of two folios from two subjects and a scaled display model (right) placed in a rather large orange fruit box, I confronted my first opponent: Swinburne.

Dearly old sWINburne in Kew and allocated the interview at 4:30pm. I rocked up in a nice dark suit, grey and light blue 3mm striped black dress shirt, with no tie and pointed shoes. Went up the escalator to the interview room, and examined the competition. What can I say? I was happy, nicely overdressed and throwing adding an extra hit of fear into my neighbours. Overall the interview went smoothly. The people seemed impressed with my work, we spoke overtime, and I was leaving, the man (who introduced himself as the faculty head) said, "I think this course is perfectly suited for you, hope to see you next year". I was over the moon; pity swinburne is numbered 6 on my perference list.

Next up in line was Monash University. This is the most exclusive univesity, as they only take in a small class of about 20, in comparison to RMIT's 90 or Swinburne's 60. I also like them more, because they're facilities seem more professional, cleaner, more organised, and the work their students design seem more mature (in my opinion). Anyway, dressed in the same suit, with the same arsenal, crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. This interview was set at an early time at 11:20. But they were late, and ended up coming to invite me into their office at 11:35. So i was sitting there alone in a rather bleak office, with a Mac book pro sitting on the desk, and some scattered stationary. The rest of the room of blank. It was a rather interesting conversation, as we did speak overtime, but not only did I speak of the course, my work, but we side tracked onto discussing literature, especially on Roald Dahl's wonderful stories of turning the trivial and ordinary into a twisted wonderful gripping work of art. I thought it went rather well, I left with the last words from the faculty head saying, "It's obvious that you've put a lot of work in this." Which I presume is a positive thing. The terrible thing that happened was that I completely forgot to show him all the awards and certificates I got during school. GRRR!

Unlucky last was RMIT. They placed me at a very silly time of 5:30. You know, nap time. What they also did, was pull their interview of 200+ kids over two days straight. I happened to be the last applicant, on the last day. Everyone was anxious to leave and go home. So i was sitting there waiting in line in the interview room. Two of the five interviewing couples stretch and left, voicing their joy of finally completing their mammoth task. "Are we finished? Oh, one more," I head one of them groan. So I sat down and presented my things, folio and such and answered the obsecure questions that they asked. For example, "What can you say about design, given the example that in 1980's a man married his television?" Since they were looking tired, uninterested and wanted to finish quickly, I gave a silly answer: "I can't really say, there's a hospital for people like that; it is quite perverse afterall." They chuckled, and I gave them a serious answer. Overall the interview was short, the man merely glanced and quickly flicked through my folio. I walked out feeling crap.

.results - I came out with is very content; but i was more surprised, and humbled at my successful interviews! For all three universities! It's a nice position to be in.

.passing time - So now that everything's out of the way, I'm left sitting around twiddling my thumbs until the first-round offers for my course comes out (on the 20th of Jan). I must find something to do. So I've been passing my time watching a bunch of films that I've been planning to watch, slowly plotting through a list of reading material, and exploring the deranged perverse jungle on the interwebs.

I find myself ridiculously enjoying myself in the company of my friends. I find we don't usually end up doing anything, but loiter. It's terrific.

Trios (viii)

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"Nice to see you again"
"Christ! Can you not do that everytime we meet?" I exclaimed as my pencil bounced off the desk and went hurling across the room.
"Sorry do what?" Smuck apepared in a smart snappy double-breasted suit with a french collar.
"Jump out on people at the most unexpected times."
"Oh..." Unphased he took out a pipe and procceeded to pat his jacket for a lighter as he sat down on a spendidly uphostered chair that i didn't own.
Silence washed between us, though it was quickly banished by the scratch of a match being lit.
"Jesus Eric, exams have finished for 15 days now and you're still idling at home." He paused and eyed my desk. "And what the hell are you doing at a desk with a pencil? Where are your friends?"
"They're away, enjoying themselves as they should."
"Why are you still here?"
"I have those silly interviews, you know, 20 minutes that can make or brake me!"
"I guess with that, you wouldn't of had much peace then."
"Let's not talk about it ok."
"Sure." Abruptly he stood up, "Let's go!" he said and snapped his fingers.
There was no blinding rays of light, nothing faded in or out, nothing exploded, but everything just appeared before me.
"You like hanging in the city don't you? I hate it." I cut in before he could react. "Well, I don't hate it, I just find it annoying because I have no idea where everything is. And the fact that I couldn't find any twine! Stop looking at me like that, it looks like you just saw something horridly sick!"
"Possibly because I think that you are, have you ever looked around you yet?" I stared ahead and saw the sky. I looked at my feet and saw the city below with it's networks of streets and roads, cars flowing like the stream, people crawling like ants. People were everywhere. Pouring of trams, coming out of shops. All talking, mostly smiling, looking joyful and generally happy.
"What on earth did you need twine for?"
"I found some brown wrapping paper...and I got a bit excited and carried away." I glanced to my side and saw he was shaking his head. "What?"
"Oh nothing, just thought you had put a tad too much effort into it." His expression quickly switched, swiftly morphing into something sinisterly devious. "Now to do what we came here to do!" He grabbed my arm tightly and led me to the opposite edge of the building. "Hush." Smuck pointed at a proud figure standing on the edge some distance up ahead. He had his hands on his hips, head high in the clouds, standing tall and ambitious. Smuck's footsteps became lighter; though his wooden heels shoes still clicked loudly on the floor.
"What are you doing?"
"Pouncing."
"Let an old pro show you how it's done"
Smuck shook his head in disbelief as he gestured me to lead. "I can't believe you just referenced the Lion King."
I bent my knees and proceeded slowly and steadily forwards, focusing more on shifting my weight and balancing then the direction in which I was heading. "So why are we doing this?" I whispered
"His name is Omega. Just go and surprise him." Smuck smiled gingerly. I wasn't convinced. "Look, we'll just get to him, and I'll do the talking."
I nodded in agreement.
As we got close, I realised that the figure was a lot shorter than he appeared. His green shirt was dirty, stained and scuffled. His pants was of a disgusting mustard yellow and his shoes seemed to be missing. And he had a strange repugnant scent.
I tapped on his shoulder.
He turned around. He had the friendliest face. The most innocent and pure smile I had ever seen. Happiness seemed to flow out of him. He grinned at me. But then he eyed Smuck. Omega's face began to crumble in disgust. His glow diminished. Omega looked power hungry, evil, mad, insane. Hatred leaked from him and polluted the environment like transmission oil spilled on the carpet.
"Suprise!" Smuck exclaimed in a cheerful voice and pushed him off the edge.
Omega raged.

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An endless seek of satisfaction and adrenaline.

Mission Complete.

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Exams. They're done, finished gone. Isn't that brilliant? I'm officially not a high school student anymore. Sad. Most of the exams that I've done, i have to say that I definately didn't put 100% in. I probably should of been a lot more stressed about it all, but being me, it didn't happen. Why? Mainly because i'm a lazy worm. And also because the course that i'm aiming for at university doesn't REALLY need an Enter at all. Rather it relies purely on interivew and folio submissions. Currently I have for Swinburne (Product Design) on the 24th, 4pm; an admission test for RMIT (Industrial Design) 26th, 11am; and an Interview for Monash (Instrial Design) 27th, 11:30am.

Anyway, I enjoy myself far too much today. I'm totally Pro-Loitering. I should do it more often with friends. It's nothing like bumming around doing absolutely nothing with the company of those you love and enjoy. Oh but yay! Now that I have absolutely nothing to do, there shall be plenty of opportunities to drag people out of their houses for my selfish amusement and entertainment.

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I like taking pictures of food. And yes, this thing taste as good as it looks. Appearance IS reality for once.
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I had a "Pleasure Dome" today. It's wonderfully delicious. It's a complete overdose of chocolat-y goodness and sugar. I high recommend those who lust for chocolate, but this recommendation does come with a warning. If you are anything like me, you wouldn't want to eat another peice of chocolate for the rest of day. So all in all, I guess it's perfectly sufficient for forfilling your dairly chocolate dose. You wouldn't want anything thing again!

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Now that I've been completely liberated. I've starting to miss my school friends already. I think I even miss all those other people I found unpleasant during my high school days as well.

Finally. Graduated.

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It has officially ended now. The past few days have been of an emotional roller-coaster ride. The distressing robbery of our last final day of school, which would of meant so much to me; the Media and it's manipulations of the truth; the rumours, the terror, the darkness, the pain. To me, I think the truth has been lost in the torture committed by the raw wave of emotion that swept across the year level. I won't deny that it was stupid, we ultimately got what we deserved, the events are most unfortunate. But hey, we made the most that we had, and made Valete night absolutely brilliant.

Yes, it was a formality. Though it was still good. It finally concluded what felt like a cliff hanger as we hang by a spaghetti thread of flesh between the school days, and swotvac. Nevertheless, it was brilliant. I can't deny that it wasn't emotional, but everyone was wonderfully united because of the recent events, it seemed as though in the hall of over 700, everyone knew better than what the media reported.

The school was wonderful, they gave us wonderful gifts to bid us farewell. As my own celebreation, I went and congradulated myself with an ice cold Coopers Pale Ale.

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We got an exclusive Ignatius issue reflection book, certificate vertifying our graduation, life long membership to the community of Old Xaverians, standard Old Xaverian issue tie, the 2008 graduation year book, graduation plaque, year level photograph, Class of 2008 wine glass, Certificate for amount of community service hours: numbered 273

Dad-cut

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Personally, I don't like haircuts very much. But at the same time, I don't like having very long hair on the basis that I end up looking like a girl. On the other hand, I'm too lazy to walk down to the hairdressers and pay for a mediocre haircut. So, I resort to the pain, the ambiguous and uncertainty of a Dad-cut.

My father has always taken pride in cutting his own boy's hair. Since I can remember I have been getting haircuts from my father. They usually end up like a bowl, but surprisingly he manages to do it without using a bowl or any bowl like implements at any time during his campaign on my head.

One year, because I love my father so much, I decided to get it cut outside. I came back, and told him the skills and techniques which I had observed, and told him that he could try it out on my brother, or on me in the near future. That was last year.

This is now, the future, and this is my haircut.

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I look like a pageboy.

It's Here

The pressure is on...

...but I'm not feeling it

Is this bad?

In other news. I got owned:

Fuck you seagate.

Large Revolving Doors

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typography

Get a large ball of wool, and slowly unwind it as you walk the road

I don't know why, but writing down every word that comes to mind spontaneously is so amazingly fun.
I guess I got a bit carried away with the typography...

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Anyway, these are my childhood friends.
Hush Puppy. Last remainder of the three ViewSonic birds. Indian Ink. Elmo. Mr Happy. Foam dinosaur. Kekero. Sharky. Piggy. Cow.

Not sure why the bottle of ink is there.

Bach, Pooh and Chocolate

These are becoming increasing harsh times. People are stretched, squashed and are being battered from all sides as we all run through the final leg of the VCE gauntlet. People have started biting now; lashing out absent-mindedly. I sit in hope that my wall is thick enough, though armour is starting to squeak now.

Silly Season is approaching. So it's a time for some silly joys.

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I'm totally hooked on Bach's Cello Suite. The House at Pooh Corner is so wonderfully welcoming after a stressful day. It's brilliant as I plunge down into it's old frail pages and admire the simple yet complexity the writers style, structure and adorably vocabulary. Pre-Disney Pooh is SO much cooler. And, who could go past a block of Chocolate <3

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here's a silly comic that I drew today.
get it? get it? get it? get it? get it? get it? get it?
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My brother said that the video wasn't THAT funny. But I laughed so hard when I first saw it at around 1:54

I can't decide

Ok, there's the dilemma. Open days are insane. I'm going insane. Everyone is insane. I'm indecisive. I'm lost. I don't like it. I have a problem, I don't know what to do any more.

So many stories of the Youth, aspiring a life in the arts, disillusioned, blinded by their own glory, then upon realisation, falling and failing.

I don't want to be the next Paul Crabbe.

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Me. My Fantasy. My Façade. My Drive. My Guide.
My Conscience. My Pollution. My Insignia. My Treads

I like that monkey. I think he's funny. He is Block Monkey. He is cool.

NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM NOm nom nom nom...

Trio (vi)

Stop doing that!
Doing what?!
Turning your head erratically whenever I call your name!
I'm only responding?
Yes, but do it without doing that? It's not slightly amusing at all.

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The siren was blaring. The people were rushing, everyone was panicking.
"Come on! Lets go!" I exclaimed like an excited 12 year old, as we weaved through the crowd in the opposite direction. I heard my mother calling me silly, idiotic even. She warned, Curiousity is like a small kitten: A small scratch won't hurt, but enough scratches will disembowel the hot water system.
A fire truck rumbled past and erratically stop ahead. Men in yellow suits leaped off the beast and rushed towards the doors, opened and welcomed by uniformed green security guards.
"You know that you're not going to find anything. Look, everyone is out by the pavement, smoking and having a laugh. Why can't we just stay here? You'll be disappointed!" Smuck sounded concerned. Odd
"Because here, is boring. And over there is excitement." I got distracted as rather young, black clad and distressed boy rushed by; his chains tinking as he went "And 'Oh my God' thats a really disgusting ear stretcher"
We had stopped running, shocked at such a putrid sight. "That's really wrong, look it how it flaps around. I want to hook my finger and pull on it." The boy went around the corner. "But yeah, but over there is also eminent barbeque roast with a slight hint of third-degree burns, scortching flesh and screams."
"All the more reason to go ey? Come on! this is the first time in like 16 years that I've been here that Knox City had a emergency evacuation!" We merged into a crowd of fellow thrill seekers. "Look, the yellow men are getting out their equipment"
The Yellow men disappeared. Nothing really moved except for the rotating siren. Those who wanted to flee had already left, those who wanted to stay were suspended in anticipation.
"You're are strange child you know."
"Funny, you're analysing me. Do proceed."
"Immigrated here, raised with a foreign language, been living here since Australia since you were two. Yet you still speak funny..."
I gave him a scornful look "...and mind you, you can't speak either language fluently."
"I so can!"
"No, no you can't. Grandpa just ignores you, he thinks you're speaking English and waits a translation from someone else. Even teachers at school ask you to repeat your rampant ideas!" Smuck started looking like a scholar. Left hand thoughtfully on his chin, arm tucked under for support, eyes gazing philosophically at the sky, cigarette slowly smouldering unnoticed in his right. "So you can't really say that you're white-washed, nor can you say that your extremely ethnic..."
I butted in, "Yeah but I'm mor..."
"...more able to use one language more than the other? yes of course! but you still speak funny english. Culturally torn is what I would call you. "Too Asian to be whitewashed, too whitewashed to be Asian'."
The yellow men walked back out of the door and shook hands with the alert green men with their radios. The crowd peaked, looked around anxiously for a tongue of flame, for a jet of water, or even a bound man to be lead out of the enterance. There was nothing.
"I told you that you would be disappointed."
It was a false alarm. Some kid has done something stupid.

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Lets see how far you fall with the burden that is forced upon you
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I awoke. "Shit, I hope that wasn't true."
I folded back into the sheets, and tried to get to sleep.

being 18

Being 18. I'm legally an adult.

Being 18, I'm now responsible for my actions.
Being 18, I can get into Jail.
Being 18, I can by alcohol legally.
Being 18, I have to pay taxes.

I firmly believes, that society should actually work by an experience point system. Where one would need to harvest the necessary skills before reaching the glorified stage of an Adult. I'm far too immature for adulthood, and I've hardly done anything to prove my worth. Instead of using age, this experience point system has a lot of benefits. It would lower the road death toll, immature and intolerant young adult angst which blights our community. I believe that it's a good system! Although I guess the down side is that you would need some type of Orwellian Goverment to make the thing work.

People have been very nice to me. Although it's disconcerting when you get a SMS from someone wishing you a happy birthday and you have NO idea who it is. But yes, isn't it lovely how even the people who you don't think remembered or cared actually do? hmm, although I think I regret not throwing a large birthday party like I wanted to, oh well, there's far too much to organise especially with such a small time frame, and my general laziness.

today was fun. Tuesdays were made for pancakes and movies. joy

Active Dreams and Sleepness Nights

I hate active Dreams. I always wake up exhausted, confused (more so than normal) and with a feeling of displacement. It's worse because it was so real. And being a firm believer in dreams being resonance of your subconsciousness, they always bother me when I remember them. This is what I remember:
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Paul stamped out a cigarette in the ashtray as he turned from the blaring television screen: "Fourty-six year old Paul Hi-Tsang has been nominated by the glorious and caring government to participate in the shipping of special important industrial goods up the Xiao Ming River, we congratulate him for signing such a prosperous deal with our lovable government."
It's all about what they don't tell you isn't it, Paul muttered to himself. What they didn't tell you, was that the Government was going to burn down his freight company after the transportation had finished, just like they did to his associates company further down river.
Paul was alone on the bridge of his freight ship, surrounded by special equipment, provided by the government to ensure the security of their goods. Paul sighed. The technology which has burdened his humble ship has relinquished not only his crew, but also his command over the ship. He had been stripped down, and been appointed as a mere janitor of his own ship.
Xiao Ming was a young river, shallow, rough and rendered yellow by the clay which made it's sea bed. It was a long trip up the river, taking almost a week to sail any ship to the first port, so it didn't come to surprise Paul that it would take his fully burdened ship almost a month to make the trip. So, having such a long time, imprisoned onboard the ship, he decided to explore the government's goods.
The cargo hold looked massive, a lot larger than he remembered. He walked along each blue grey freight container, opening and inspected the contents of each one. Each container contained the same assortment of boxes: shoebox sized white cardboard boxes, large wooden crates, and long, thin ceramic cases. But even though each contained had the same type of boxes, they were always stacked differently to the next.
Paul, having inspected through the first twenty, decided to open a box to satisfy his curiosity. He selected a white shoebox at random. He pulled open the lid, feeling the soft vacuum as air rushed to envelope the space once empty. Paul laughed. In the box contained a small figurine of a poorly modelled lion, still encased in it's poor graphically designed packaging. Paul put it back, and selected the long thing ceramic case nearby. It was hefty in his hands, so he was delicate with it. The lid was on firmly. He risked a little bit more force. The lid jumped open, cutting his index finger, tainting the pure surface with red. Paul sucked on his finger as he inspected the contents. It was the complete collection of beautifully painted tin colonial soldiers, each unique to it's own, each face slightly different, each uniform slightly more ruggered, or pressed than the other. They were a work of a wonderful craftsmen.
"Hey Paul!" called a voice from behind. It was Conrad. God, Paul thought, he was the most annoying person he had ever met. Conrad appeared from behind a rack of unrecognisable black polo t-shirts, wearing a baby blue rain coat and his beloved cream Country Road bag. "Hey Paul!" he said again enthusiastically. "I just saw Saving Private Ryan, it was like the best movie ever."
"You know what's a good War movie? Full Metal Jacket." Paul said assertively, as Conrad caught up with my pace towards the other end of the hold.
"Oh, but in Saving Private Ryan, on the D-Day scene at the start! It was so scary and frightening, could you imagine exactly what the solider's were going through, it was fantastic."
Paul saw Simon sitting amongst some unrecognisable friends, sitting on a coach, being mesmerised by the television screen and gory violent console game. Paul greeted him.
"There's a free spot over there, " Simon indicated to his left with a head nod, "Jump on, help me out here." Paul looked over and saw George place a controller on top of a bean bag and wondered off, chewing on a ham and cheese sandwich. I hurried over and held the controller in my hands. The warmth, sweat, excitement and blood from the previous user resonated into my hands. Paul looked up at the field of swaying grass that lay before him. The smell of dirt, spring and decay infiltrated his senses. He quickly lay on his stomach and checked the heavy carbine that lay in his hands. Crawling slowly forward, he squinted and spotted a crows nest.
"Paul, nice of you to join us, proceed to Bravo Della 4122 and join up with Simon, he's requesting backup," commanded Alan staring out into the seemingly empty field with a pair of binoculars. "Ken here will watch your back" he said indicated to a solider in that lay motionless next to him with a large scoped rifle on his shoulder. Paul nodded without a sound and ran down towards his designated area.
"Hey Simon, I'm behind you" I whispered, gently tapping the heel of his boot. He had his stomach on the ground too, but had his sights firmly at the crossroad that lay before us.
"They'll be coming in soon, command says that there will be three full trucks of them"
Paul nodded and set up his camouflage.
The sun was setting when Paul heard the rumbling in the distance. He looked up and saw the three trucks he had been expecting. His heart raced. He frowned. He heard singing. It was the school anthem. Paul put it out of his mind and aligned his sights on the truck.
The vehicle approached. It's mounted cannon fired. Paul couldn't feel his legs.
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And that's when I woke up. My dreams are funny though, they always replay themselves constantly, each scene repeating themselves at least a few times, each time a little different, adding a little bit more detail, or sometimes changing the events completely. But every time I awake a little bit more disturbed. I'm a freak. I'm insane. It's sad.

Trios (v)

Words were thrown out, received and exchanged. They laughed and grinned with amusement. The Tram rocked as it took a turn. There was one in grey. She was the most delicate creature. She played with her straight, flowing dark brown hair, biting her lower thin moist pink lips. She sighed, darting her eyes upwards, taking the view of the setting pastel sky, smiled sweetly, and dived back into the roaring conversation. The words flew and planted themselves in my garden of interest. I voiced my opinion. Firing my words quickly, hoping to catch the pace. They flew out, and were ignored, over-voice by a good friend. I leaned back in disappointment, watching the result of my unheard words. They laughed and grinned at a friends performance. He played them well, he had them completely in his grasp. Where he went, they followed; when he talked, they listened. I attempted again, words flowed from me, the chain of words refracted and reflected everywhere, rebounding and travelling, unheard and ignored for it's lifespan. One dressed in blue stepped in front of me. I looked out the window, my reflection stared back at me and gave a disappointing sigh. I was cut from the conversation, though I still heard it raging in the chaos beyond the barrier. I tried to find the girl in grey, peeping around the side of the wall. She didn't seem to be there anymore. A second disappointment. I returned to the window.
"It happens a lot doesn't it?"
"Yarshk. But not as often as having reflections talking to me"
"Oh you'll get used to it" Smuck propped himself higher to look behind me, "God he's an egotistical twat isn't he?"
"He's not this bad most of the time. He really isn't"
"Oh HELLO! Who's that girl in grey? She's a creature to be admired!" said Smuck stepped out of the glass to get a better look.
I groaned and shrugged, "I don't know her name, don't think I would like to know either."
"Hmm, " he pondered as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "A euro-Asian mix, delicate creature indeed. A bit young for you I think."
"Reason why I don't want to know" I muttered. Smuck took out his brass tobacco case and a pipe from his breast pocket. I watched him intently. He took a match and lit it on her face. She paused wide-eyed, then continued with her words.
"She's a nice girl though, smart, intelligent, a tag of arrogance, self importance, good esteem although I have to say that she rolls her eyes at quirks. Bit too normal I think, taking into consideration your bipartisan views of normal and weird."
"I really don't want to know, stop talking please." I said assertively, "and come back here..." my sentence was stopped by a phone call. It was mum. I was getting off the tram early. With that, I farewelled the group and stepped into the chill of the night. Julie greeted me by forcing with icicles into my heart. I wrapped myself a bit more warmly. The pavement was slick with moisture. Green moss grew in the gutter. I purposely stepped on it before strolling up the street.
"Hey look!" Smuck pointed.
It seemed the girl in Grey had stepped off at the same stop. She was leaning against the yellow cream wall of the pub, bag at her feet, arms crossed. She caught my stare. As I approached, I politely muttered farewell and goodnight, receiving an echo and a smile, before proceeded forward.
"You're pathetic"
"No, just realistically determined."
When I finally got home, I threw down by bag and sat down roughly into my chair, sending us a distance backwards. Using my legs I rowed myself back to the desk. I turned on the desk light. Papers, markers, pencils, orange peels and instruments from last nights battle greeting me grimly. I laid my feet firmly on the ground and lowered my head on the desk with my hands flat on my thighs. Smuck crept up and turned off the light.
"I'm quite ready for it to end now." I mumbled
"It's nearly over, hang in."

Trios (iv)

"What on earth is that thing?"
"This thing?" Smuck raised the plastic bag as something black seemed to struggle for it's life, "It's an eel, got it from the market just a few minutes ago."
"Right. You do know that eels are aquatic right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"There's no water at all in the bag."
"That's ok. I don't expect this creature to last the night." He produced the squirming eel out from the bag, grappling it by the head, he thrusted it towards me. "If you may do the honours"
"What? no way, you do it! You know I can't stand that sort of stuff!"
"Fine then." He turned his back to me, a snap was made, and the eels went limp. "Damn, that was a satisfying crunch." He said as he turned back to face me. His shirt was covered in blood. He was holding the eel by it's gills. It had already been gutted.
It's mouth continued to gap for water.
Open.
Close.
Open.
Close.
With each mouthful of air, you could see the gills pulsating. Blood continued to drip onto the ceramic white tiles.
"It's still moving"
"Yeah, so?"
"So, wasn't breaking it's neck supposed to stop it from moving?"
"Not at all"
"What was the purpose in doing that then?!"
"Could you level with self satisfaction?"
"You're a sadistic freak you know that?"
"Takes one to know one. Anyway, I'm not going to talk to you, I want to cook this thing" and with that Smuck walked into the kitchen. Sounds of chopping, gas, fire and energy could be heard. The boiling of water, the whooping of excitement, the opening of jars, the clutter of plates. I had gone to my room, and desperately tried to get the sounds of the thump out of my head. The thump from the eel, still thrashing at it was boiled, alive.
Half an hour later, a sweat succulent aroma wafted into the room. My stomach gurgled. It had been a good six hours since I had last eaten. I walked into the ktichen, and there was Smuck sitting on the table, smacking his lips and setting up the table.
"Now that we're here, shall we start?" He opened the chrome lid that covered a dish. Steam rushed to the ceiling, revealing the white flesh the mass majority of the eel. "Well, we better not let it's life go in vain ey?"
The dish was good. Succulent. Delicious.
I ate so much more than Smuck did.
It was just too...good.

May Time

OH yes, the may time fair, a place of discovery, villainy and clowns. The day started with great anticipation. Having packed a change of cloths (set of freezing weather), fun loving essentials I embarked on a blissfully day full of optimism.
Thoccer, started off well, against Wesley, I think, as clueless me wouldn't have a clue or the care to actually know which school or team that we were opposing. But either way they were wearing purple which was utterly hilarious especially since they were so small and fragile that I had an physical affect on the little children. It wasn't really an interesting game, since we dominated, and I got hit in the nether regions quite painfully...
Wow, I don't pay much attention to the game at all, I can't even remember how much we won by. How terrible, but all that is important is that we finished at the bright and early time of 10am, after two 35 minutes halves.

My may time adventures started at 1ish. Upon terming up, I saw so many familiar faces, many of which I intended to avoid.
First event I went to, was the Battle of the Bands. A few of my friend's bands were playing, they were impressive. Oh, the lighting at the venue was terribly dark, ISO: 1000, and the shutter at 6.
Long Dots: They weren't too shabby. (obviously this is just one of the band players. My photography skillz suckzors, so all my other photographs are either too blurry or just plain hideous...aesthetically.
I have no idea what this band was called, but they killed the show. Ultimate riffs, Killer song by Tool. And yes, i thought the speaker set looked prettier.

Then I left to see some a transvestites debating over the topic: Girls are better than boys. The boys (originally) won. But I think I'll spare they reputation and not plaster photographs of the school prefects in yellow and saucy blue dresses all over the internet.

Nevertheless, it was fun. And YES!, Eric met his sexy friends, which he was terrible excited about. Which resulted in a mass of shutters firing off everywhere, which went mostly underexposed.

Oliver looks Angry, he doesn't like photographs, he thinks he's ugly, i agree, though my mother doesn't.
"Oh so there is a pretty face under all that acne...and hair" she says. *evil grin*
(FIY: he's not one of the sexy friends)

Sunni's failed attempt to eat the camera...

...she later grew a hideous mouth cancer because of it. Pity

Funny though, Michelle tried her style of pouncing and devouring (t-rex style/Godzilla's/Japanese style) and she didn't seem to have the same effect...

...although she did seem to have an upset stomach afterwards.

Alana is too photogenic.

Anyway, we sat around and had some cookies...

...some of us attempted to fly...

(Michelle defying gravity)

(Spider Seal: Go Web! Go...actually it looks though she's shooting that cup.)


...some of us decided to jive till sunset....


...which eventually happened.

That day was terrific. It was good to get away from the stress of school, deadlines, and the incoming SACs and SATs. Despite the days causalities, it was good, fun. But now! to get back to work work work.

p.s: i'm not actually that pumped, if i was, i wouldn't be writing a blog about last saterday. anywayz, "VCE's like Nike, 'Just do it."

Trios (iii)

“Where on earth have you been Eric.” Asked Alpha
I mumbled, rolled over and went back to sleep.
“Come on Eric, get up! Get up!” Alpha urged.
“Fine”, I managed to grumble grumpily as I set up to look up at the figure standing beside my desk, “What do you want?”
“Oh nothing, I just want to tell you that you fell asleep.”
“Hang on; let me get this right,” I paused for the melodramatic effect, “You woke me up…” pause. “…to tell me that I fell asleep.”
“Precisely!” Alpha chirped happily. “And to alert you to the fact that you drooled and now your VCD development page 1.5 is all smudged and somewhat ruined!”
I looked down at the war torn remains of what was, not long ago, some accurate sketches. I frowned. I looked up back into Alpha’s face. He frowned back. “I blame this on you.” I remarked.
“What why?”
“Because I’m obviously so completely and utterly fatigued that even my brain can’t name my imaginary friends properly.”
“That’s not true!” said Smuck poking his head through the door and disappearing again.
“Aw yeah! Than how do you explain such pathetic name such as Alpha!” I called back spitefully, though I got no response.
“So anyway, are you going to answer my question?” said Alpha ignoring the spontaneity of Smuck.
“Err…what was the question again?”
Alpha rolled his eyes and pathetically recited, “Where have you been Eric?”
“Ok, well. Truthfully I’ve been in many, many places: sitting working, sleeping, eating, going to school, coming back home, sitting at the kitchen table, sitting on the kitchen table, sitting at my desk, sitting in front of the computer, standing next to the fridge, eating maple fav….”
“No really, enough of your crap. Where have you been?” Alpha emphasised assertively.
I started out thoughtfully the window, pausing for effect. “Well…” I began, as I turned to face Alpha again.
He wasn’t there any more.

Turned out he was now lying awkwardly on the floor, with his limbs looked slightly detached and bent in awkward directions. There was also far too much red seeping into the carpet.
“You were saying…” said Smuck gently; interrupting the chaotic, but almost tranquilly scene. He was standing next to me, cleaning the same red off the hatchet point of a French Heavy Calvary sabre.
“I was saying…” I paused, failing to remember due to the horrific scene before me, “Say, can you clean up a bit quicker, it might stain the carpet!”
“Oh, right.” Smuck clicked his fingers and Alpha’s remains were replaced by a blood red dyed leather and dark oak chair. “By all means, continue” he said sitting down, crossing his legs sophisticatedly.
“Ok, right.” I squinted to get my thoughts back on track. “Right, well you see, these last few weeks have horrible really. I can’t seem to get any homework done. It’s Pathetic! I get so much homework, but so much of it doesn’t get done. I’m already five exercises behind in Methods, just struggling to catch up in Spesh, I haven’t nearly done enough work for my design folio, I haven’t even touched my Physics work since the term break, and now I have a English essay due in 9hours and I haven’t started yet!” I clutched my head, “Oh and I’ve got a Physics SAC coming up, and an English one too. There are just far too many things to do in so little time! It’s weird you know, I can never figure out where all the time goes. Like, I usually get home at about 4:30, and by the time I start working it’ll be around 5ish, dinner starts around 7. And at night I begin work again at 8 or 9, and because of the mountain of homework, I don’t can’t finish it all, and I end up sleeping at 1 or 2 o’clock! It’s just not right! Other people sleep earlier than me and still get so much more done than me! What’s going on?”
Smuck looked at me as if he saw a man rocking back and forth in the corner of a padded room. “What on earth are you on about? The question was ‘where have you been?’ What on earth were you on about, madman?”
“Oh right.” It has just dawned on me that they were asking about my Subconscious’ travels while the physical body rested, “I don’t know, dreams are weird.”
“Oh yes, I agree, but they’ve been rather actively lately haven’t they?”
“They have, and I think I’m loosing sleep because of it. I wake up and I feel like I’ve just returned from another day. It’s crazily amazing. Although the good thing is that I’m seeing quite a lot of people there whom I usually see like…once a term? It’s exhausting though."
“I imagine that it would be.”
We shared a comfortable silence, staring off into space.
I yawned. “Christ, what time is it?”
Smuck snobbishly took out his pocket watch, flipped it open, “A quarter to 3”
“Oh god, I need to get to sleep!” I dived into bed and tried best to calm my racing and guilt loaded heart. Smuck, still in his chair, winded up his watch before returning it into his suit. He sighed sympathetically and faded into the night.

Trios - (ii)

Julie screamed as she soared in between the buildings, her claws viciously raking the earth, throwing dirt, dust and the like into the air. The scent of oil, coffee, sweat and exhausted attacked my nostrils.
The streets were littered with people, each on their own path, each navigating their way through each other, with painstaking precision. Some sat with others: talking, drinking, smoking, littering, window shopping, pavement watching. Others walked slowly hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, with silly smiles and completely introverted.
Smuck lit another cigarette, shielding the fame with his bare hands, inhaling, and let the smoke drift down toward the no smoking area in the cafe.
"You're a prick."
"Do you know what's a lot fun?" Smuck completely ignoring my comment and, without missing a beat, said "Walking down a crowded street, like this, and trying to align every face you see with an animal or an object."
A weasel wearing in a business suit checked his watch before running to cross the street. A pork bun plodded into the nearby book store. A flock of penguins boarded a centipede. A mould of jelly jiggled into Hungry Jacks. A wizard pattered a troll on the shoulder. A piece of celery strutted to the music. A doll served tea to her friend the mangled teddy bear. Frankenstein walked into a pole
I glared at Smuck.
He smiled cheekily.

Trios - (i)

"Hello Eric." Said a strong sturdy unsurprised voice. I looked up from my trigonometric identities to find Smuck in a flashy jacket looking down at me, leaning his knuckles firmly on my desk.
"Err..." I was surprised to say the least, "...what a surprise to see you here."
"Surprise? Why would it be a surprise?" asked Smuck has he lowered himself into the soft armchair beside me. I swear that chair wasn't there before.
"Well, i just didn't expect you to come to the State Library thats all."
"What? But I live in your head! On that note, you might want to put those headphones back on and make it look like your muttering to yourself, people are looking." Embarrassingly I did so.
"So, Eric, sitting alone, perving at girls again?" he continued as he started to patting his pockets in the search for his cigarettes.
"I'm not perving at girls!" I stammered.
"Oh yeah, then what's that your doing there then?" Smuck produced a packet of tobacco, paper and a filter and started to roll himself one.
"I'm trying finish my Specialist work and I would really appreciate it if you didn't talk to me, it's really not helping..." He raised his hand to offer me a roughly made cigarette. "...and you know I don't smoke." I continued.
"Yeah, but you need to chill out, plus how do you explain that drawing of..." Smuck lit his cigarette with a nickel plated gas lighter. He sucked. The end of the stick glowed as the ember ate away at the dried plant. He then blew the smoke at my neighbour. "...her?" Her silver earrings tinkled as she looked up and stared into my eyes, squinted, tilted her head, before returning with her work.
"What? That not perving, I'm just using her face as a reference." I explained, "Plus, she's pretty."
"Hmm, sure, but that picture is definitely not doing her any justice." I glared at Smuck. He grinned viciously. "Hey, this place is boring, let's go outside and meet up with your sexy friends"
"Eurgh, fine." I picked up my books and proceeded to the locker room "You do know I hate it when you talk like that, it's so denigrating."
"It's only denigrating if you think it is m'dear, and oh, check out the face on this birdie" I looked to my left, and there Smuck was, leaning into an innocent looking girl's face, licking his lips lustfully. I shook my head disappointingly and opened my locker, shoved my books into my bag, got my coat and walked to the front glass door. Neglected newspaper blew like tumble weed. Cars herded like cattle, funnelling into streets and roads, all loud and frustrated. Tourists flashed, pointed and gasped. "Looks like Julies out stretching her fingers. How exciting!" exclaimed Smuck.
"Remind me, who's Julie again?"
"The one who likes to run her finger down your naked back on those frosty nights; who takes the last breathe from the homeless man on the street; who changes with every second, ever restless, ever demanding." Smuck seemed to describe her with a sense of admiration "A dominatrix figure if you will"
I laughed, "Come on" I pushed upon the door and stepped into the chilly world as just as the heavens opened up.