Claire Keane
NASA
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
trying on a metaphor
Today's Document
art blog(derogatory)
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
izzy's playlists!
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
d e v o n
dirt enthusiast
KIROKAZE
shark vs the universe
Game of Thrones Daily
AnasAbdin
$LAYYYTER
if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from United States
seen from Hungary
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Panama
seen from Mexico
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Philippines
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from Poland
@iveonlyanhour-blog
Monday: Chicken on Chicken with Chicken
Been questioning the meaning of success today.
Then I remembered a fantastic quote:
Even on the most exalted throne in the world we are only sitting on our own bottom.
Michel de Montaigne
We're all people at the end of the day, and it truly is all relative; our problems, dreams, desires. All we can do is buy the ticket, take the ride and hope we don't throw up. In the words of a friend - "be yourself, everyone else is taken".
Saturday: Captains of Industry Round 2.
Due to rain, today's revolution has been postponed.
I talk a lot of shit and I write an even large of amount of said shit. It seems finally I MIGHT start taking this shit and painting it gold. A couple of big days this week could see me make some big moves/changes.
Wow, how that reads like a bad star sign.
Why do people read those anyway? I suppose, religious, spiritual or otherwise; everyone wants answers. Just some sort of closure that what they are doing is "right" or "just"... and trust me, everything - no matter how mundane or ridiculous - has an answer.
Enter example:
Catch you on the flip side.
Tuesday: Subway Sub In The State Library Sun
The sun comes back to Old Melbourne Town, thank fuck for that.
Even the nights are bearable now (fingers crossed they stay such a way). Last night I had dinner with an old uni friend who know clocks in the 9-5 and at one point he made a comment about the coffee he buys every morning.
He then added the price of this coffee to every morning of the working week.
Then the working week to a calendar year.
He ended on some ridiculous number with too many zeroes to bear any semblance to the price of a latte to go, one sugar.
For some reason such a way of looking at things stuck with me today. It barely broke the skin when i ordered my morning shot of "don't headbutt any customers". It wasn't till now that I've gotten back home that I'm really thinking about it - with notes.
Not 5s, 10s, 20s, 50s etc, but notes about what to download, who to contact, witty messages to pretend come as off the cuff later on. And these are the notes, scrawled on quality thermal receipt roll, which i pulled from pockets from one days work (and if you were wondering, yes one of them did tell me to post on this very thing):
And, this particular job i work four days of the week.
This means, every working week on average, i would collect this much:
A regular year in my role would constitute a 48 week year of work... which looks like this...
...point is tomorrow, I'm buying a notebook.
Monday: Captains Of Industry "Pigs Will Fly" Sandwich
I went to Captains of Industry with a good friend of mine today. I've never felt like such a Don Draper. Everything was tailored, and every man was mad. It was what I'd expect of heaven if they served their whiskey neat. They don't really advertise though. Which frankly isn't all bad. Especially considering how easily you can fuck it up with social media these days... this is my case in point, and where my ridiculous tangent was leading the whole time...
...enter horrible facebook advert..
Hey Kids!!! Forget about your interwebs and facebooks!!! Write me an essay answer your teachers can't force you to do and you could win $500 worth of museum vouchers to make learning fun... ...fuck man, I'm no marketer, but just give them a iTunes voucher or something... less... shit.
Saturday: "Sick Day Constant Snacking"
I've been totally lax AGAIN when it comes to posting. I just can't seem to hurdle this sickness at the moment (the depression stemming from Splenvy* isn't helping) so I've taken some further time off to nip it in the butt.
As such I spent a lot of time by the television watching any movie that will download fast enough (no mum, not THOSE movies).
The most interesting one was a documentary from a few years back called CATFISH.
A really interesting look at identity and social media. Without giving too much away, the "chance" and constant filming and convenient plot points seem a little too contrived and perfect to be truth. That said, it was a good piece of cinema.
Kyle Buchanan over at Movieline offered >>THIS<< explanation to what he saw after its Sundance Premier last year. If the piece itself doesn't answer any questions, the knives certainly come out in the comments that proceed it.
Glossary of terms _____________________
Spenvy : The destitute feeling of sadness and jealousy that comes with missing out on the greatest music festival in Australia*.
The Greatest Music Festival in Australia : Splendour in the Grass
Thursday: Potato & Cheese Pancake
Wow, haven't I been slack this last week.
To be fair, I started on a new endeavour with some pretty great opportunity, and I really was as sick as a dog.
And not a nice dog like this:
But, more slimey.. the kind of dog that looks like if you touched it, maybe even gaze into its dying eyes for more than minute it could eat away at your soul... you know - something more like this:
...go with christ brah...
Until Tomorrow.
Wednesday: the sickday cafe foccacia force-down
Cheating again. I didn't write this on my lunchbreak. No, I'm writing on the tram with an early finish thanks to one simple equation: Fluey like thing + type 1 diabetes = crazy sugar vomit headache fever Put simply- I don't feel good. I'm waiting for my doctor to get back to me, but in the meantime i'll just shoot-up more and more insulin until things improve, because right now I'm more sugar than man - and their ain't nothing sweet about it. I'll be more fun tomorrow. Promise.
Saturday : The Famous Haven'tBeenToBedBreakfast - Coffee, Sugar-free Red Bull, Cue Cards w/ Self-affirming statements to get me through the day.
We all know that a soundtrack can make a film. Take it from Howard's End to Trainspotting, it makes Uncle Buck turn to The Big Chill. But what if the music is the story? The musicians protagonists and their songs plot thickeners? What if the music was the film?
What I'm saying is. I went to a very cool film festival last night. The Music On Film Festival.
Unlike so many of these niche festivals, MOFF did well not to alienate itself to the usual market of film nerds and too-cools. A festival pass will be the best idea next time I reckon. There limited films, and only single sessions but they were so varied!
I could have easily seen Scorsese's Let There Be Light, watching throngs of golden oldies remembering that first joint on a beanbag listening to the Exile on Mainstreet (i'm picturing Giant Headphones, an Allman Brothers Poster and maybe a cinderblock bookshelf there somewhere too?). Wouldn't have minded revelling in the wanderlust of Fantasia either ( the animated feat, not the bird who won the umpteenth season of American Idol). I've never seen the badboy, and frankly i need to get over my fear of being molested by Mickey Mouse. What a creepy fucking rat.
...told you.
And back to the good news:
I was lucky enough to see Sigur Ros' Heima… check out a scene below and imagine an old palatial theatre with state of the art sound… then mouth the words "wow… cool".. then tell a friend and pretend you went. Even take the rant above and paraphrase it into your own… or reference me, Harvard stylez… aiiyight.
The film actually runs for just shy of 100 minutes. This is part 1, and all parts are on the YooToobz, so yeah... whenever..
Thursday/Friday: Sorry For The MIA!!! Halcyon Lunch Surprise (AKA dinner from days past.)
Sorry i didn't write post this yesterday.
Although you probably didn't notice.
I don't have any real reason.
It wasn't writers block, or some family issue - I just actually had fun at work so my mind hadn't quite wandered away on me.
But that was Thursday.
Today is not.
Today, i heard a quote when someone (a poet, obviously.) was reading a book we have in stock to their quasi-hetero-life-partner or similar. I wrote it down, turns out it had been said before - but let's run with it.
It read.
“If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average”
Soooo, let us continue by killing two quasi-hetero-life-partners birds with one stone. I call it…
My Poem About Why I Failed to Post Yesterday
When it comes to locks i am a fumbler,
but that's not why i ignored Tumblr.
No: i know my password,
know my address,
and if i didn't
Well, I could have guessed
and the computer would ask me to log,
my date of birth, or name of dog,
and then like BAM! they'd send me through
a password - secret, strange and new.
And it wasn't I was short of time,
Or had nothing good to say,
I've only ever an hour to write this stuff,
and its dumb stuff everyday.
I guess I felt that Thursday lunch,
had better things to do,
than watch me type, then drink my drink,
and take a bite and chew.
Wednesday: Oporto Feisty Fillet Burger
Went to the new Transformers film last night.
I mean it was good. But everytime anything blew up, caught on fire or fell down; I couldn't help but picture Michael Bay on South Park offering up his master direction:
Monday: Sweet, Sweet, RDO.
Im not at work today, but i thought i've had so many RDOs you might've thought i've gone soft. I also stopped by to tell you I was thoroughly impressed by Art Vs. Science (as per my last post). They rocked the pants off of me. In fact as i lay on the couch, I'm still pants-less. Still have today and tomorrow to sit around the house, listen to Devendra Banhart and watch "Catch Me If You Can" … ahh fraud was so much easier in the sixties.
And who did those amazing visuals for the intro?
And the music?
Fuck, this film oozes cool.
DO YOU CONCUR?
See you Wednesday.
Thursday: Tightass hangover recovery wrap (hommus, pita, salami, cheese, paracetemol)
I woke up on my friends couch with half a hash brown on my forehead an entire eight minutes before I was supposed to be at work so excuse me if my writing is below par and my skin extra greasy. And frankly I have tomorrow and Saturday off so I’ve practically checked out already. I did though manage to wrangle a review spot for Lifelounge’s new move to steal some spotlight from 3000, “Everguide” (their new iPhone is the greatest source of things to do since poncho.tv, check it out). Unfortunately all i was able to muster thus far was the reportage spot for Saturday’s Art Vs Science show.
The ‘band’ name itself would raise quite debate in music circles. In one corner, any musicologist or tertiary music student could (and would argue) that music is no more than a science. That if you take the right chord progression, using the right key changes you can, within a given formula, right catchy hit after catchy hit. Others, like that stoner uncle of yours, would defend the art to the death. The idea that good music comes from the heart, passion and life experience. Though unfortunately for Art Vs Science, it is very difficult to argue the basic ingredients of good music if you’ve never written any (see: “Magic Fountain”). That said I’ll go with an objective lens and open mind, and just hope they ACTUALLY suck enough that I can tear them a new one from their art to their science.
Wednesday: Moroccan Chicken Soup (In A Rush, Degraves St.)
Pay day baby… not only does that mean something flash for lunch, but it means i can spend my hour splashing cash.. probably first and foremost would be a clever investment into some sort of curtain, or at least a partition of kind to separate my "bedroom" from the rest of my apartment.
I think when if until I find a new place, my little lair south of the river is definitely going the way of the closing scenes of The Wizard of Oz, so I may as well embrace it no?
Speaking of that, did you know there is sequel to Wizard of Oz? Return to Oz they tell me. I'm sure it'd be no Dirty Dancing 2: Havana Nights, and the reviews use words like "Creepy", "Bleak" & "Terrifying" (Thanks Wikipedia)... probably not what you want in a children's acid trip movie.
I mean, I know even the original had Munchkins, Flying Monkeys and a creepy teapot man thing, but none of that can hold it's own to a plot that, via IMDB, is about when our precious Dorothy "promptly escapes from the mental hospital and wakes up in Oz where her pet chicken, Billina, can now talk".
I mean, what sort of a name is that for a chicken?! I bet the one in my soup was a Darren, or David... something with a D.
Tuesday: Mum's Leftover Lasagna/KFC Snackbox
How do you make a million dollars as a writer?
You start with 2 million.
This is my dilemma, my passion for writing and my passion for consumer goods are struggling to align.
What’s a boy to do? I guess the idea would be to take a cushy job to pay the bills and write a little bit on the side. It’s kinda shit to feel I have to make such a compromise so early in my “career”. And hell, there are worse ideas in the world.
One that sticks out for me is little tale told to me by a friend when in Peru… I think I’m gonna call it…
“Carpet Shoes: Or How to be a Winner and Loser at the same time.”
If you won the lottery, was the question, what would you buy?
All sorts of weird and wonderful things were kettering about as we nailed Pisco Sours like they were going out of style (I think I said Charlize Theron but I can’t be sure).
“My brother-in-law won the lotto once. 8 million dollars, but he doesn’t have it anymore” offered Holly.
Now we’re all wondering aren’t we. Did he piss it away on Courvoisier? ” 8 Million on black my good man?” Or simply leave it in his jeans pocket one fateful laundry day?
Nope.
2 words:
Carpet. Shoes.
This, arguably behind Skechers, is the worst footwear idea to come out of anywhere. Ever. Ever Ever Ever.
I can just imagine the (very expensive) pitch he threw to the industry big wigs.
“Okay, so come with me on this… you want shoes on, but you want to feel the ultimate comfort, maybe that of a wool or cotton on the soles of your feet, caressing your heals and cuddling your toes.”
“oh, you mean socks?”.
Well done champ, you just blew your golden ticket on an abhorrent sock re-imagining. Plus another $150 on the rug from Ikea your tore apart for the ‘Carpet Shoe Mk I”. Your mum is gonna be pissed…
“I love talking about nothing. It is the only thing I know anything about.”
I'm with you Mr Wilde.
So now here we are...