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I don't love New York.


Why do I say the things I say? Why do I act like a Richard? I want to engage myself into the lives of people I want to know, but I choose simply to ignore them. How does one insert oneself into another person’s life? Hrm... *Zip* (Colon-capital-dee) I think you would need to spark the person’s curiosity. And that would require a decent looking face, which I think I might have when the sun ain’t shining, or when I’m wearing a balaclava or something that covers my face. Or, preferably something that covers me from head to toe, that way, no one can see anything!

So now, having lost a lot of irreplaceable people and objects, I think I might know the feeling of helplessness. I’m not talking about the odd hard drive failure (especially when you’ve forgotten to back up), but more substantial and important things. When you feel like there’s no one to turn to when the world’s about to crush you and suicide is not even an option because even death wouldn’t calm your shattered soul. The way you feel when you’re so angry with yourself for choosing to do something, like taking a chance on that one relationship you thought would be meaningful, but instead left you more broken than before.

I leave you with a toast, compatriots!
To life! For many more million years of much more merriment more to come! MOAR.
Lady GaGa: Changing Skies

Memory Bank


I has a secret. Photo by Miss Annikinz and her new Canon 60D DSLR.

To be honest, I think a rape whistle is an incredibly noteworthy idea.

Once I’ve finished this stupid degree, I’m out of here. When I say that I’m sick of Brisbane, I think what I mean to say is that I’m sick to death of people that badger me like there’s no tomorrow. They’re stuck in this irrational mindset that makes them so neurotic they should be shipped to Iraq and forced to jihad. I make jihad sound like Polish dancing. ARGHH


Having some ABBA song stuck in my head really doesn’t help when I’m trying to vent. Thanks a lot, Björn.

This predicament in which I’m securely wedged in allows me no room to breathe and no space to move. I’m stuck and there’s no way out. I wish fairy tales were real and a knight in shining armor would come to my rescue. Since it’s the 21st Century, it’d be preferable if my savior emerged in the form of a machine gun or a time bomb. Something ‘Mission Impossible’ or Dubble-oh-seven, like an invisible Audi. The people I would very much like to destroy, live in the city, have 3 children around my age, and are big big BIG brown-nosers.

I wish my rents were more allowing. But I guess as offspring, we do have obligations to uphold, mothers, girlfriends, boyfriends, and clergy to placate. The notion of running away and beginning a whole new chapter is rather titillating, except in reality I’d have nowhere to go and nowhere to stay. I wouldn’t even be able to afford a train ticket. But still, I’d have my Nigerian cab driver shoes to walk in, which of course, would make the whole experience more compelling.

Bless my little cotton socks, I’m feeling much better now. *Tilts head and smiles*

"After I graduate, I hope to travel to some faraway land to experience something new. I want to learn a new language – discover a different culture. Wherever I may be, I will still do what I love – studying history and philosophy, writing and making music, and riding my bicycle. I embrace the idea of living with both a sense of curiosity and spontaneity in the future years of my life."

*Slaps self* I used to sound naïve...

The Piña Colada Song