Sub cultures

okay, first, let me start by pointing out that edward scissorhands is NOT EMO.
emily hogg, pls to be noticing that you have no idea what emo means. it's called ART CULT.
tim burton creates ART CULT films. you don't see people knocking creative genius, you, you just don't. you just....DON'T. tim burton is a creative genius, and even the most misinformed, culturally retarded lad could tell the difference between emo and tim burton (well, maybe not. but still, you better see what i'm getting at). i do NOT want to hear this "edward scissorhands and sweeney todd are emo" bullshit. i want you on your knees! crippled, broken down and PARALYSED because of johnny depp's beauty! now, when master burton's alice in wonderland comes out, and we all see johnny depp looking amazingly hot (as per usual) i do not want to hear negative feedback when i see you at school. johnny depp does not recieve negative feedback.
he is the reason the world goes around. he's the reason the sun hasn't exploded yet. johnny depp in himself is bigger than any fucking supernova. *nods*





underlying message?





GET OFF MY PLANET.

*swoons*

eddie, you make the world go around.

Broken Hearted?

yeah, again, one of those days where you don't know what you're doing, where you're going, where your life is headed..it's just dead ends everywhere you go. no matter how much crumble and cream you eat, how much japanese stationary you buy, how many times you blubber to all your friends about how much of a mistake you are, you can't get over that one person. and they are constantly on your mind.

sucks to be broken hearted.

And Someone Always Gets Left Behind

it's amazing how something can go from being the most peace thing on earth to a massive crap on my face in a matter of three minutes. turns out spending a whole week with all your closest friends in a deserted valley in newcastle isn't the best idea for a vacation, and usually ends with you crying to older brothers in a dark, damp phonebooth about a 2K trek from the camp.

oh, and those little asian children that interfere with quality talking time in parks? they should be shot dead. yes harry, i'm talking about you. next time, please make the effort to recognise matt and i's attempts to be rid of you. the middle finger doesn't mean "hello yes you can come sit with us and be loved because even though you look like a sufferer of severe allergic reactions to egg, we love you anyway."

yes harry, you do annoy me greatly. so please leave the next time someone screams at you to leave the premises of which they are in.

harry. leave.
i mean it.

no? you're going to stay?

oh i see. with me and matt.

now it all makes sense.

GET OUT.

I HATE YOU.

yes, indeed there is nothing like getting shunned from your social group, eating five servings of carbs for every meal, getting chased by a crazy fucker of a rooster around your cabin and getting dumped by your semi-boyfriend in a rainy carpark.

G.I. Moe

when all else fails, i don't.

yes everyone, this has been G.I. Moe, giving you your weekly mantra. use it well, and of course often. angst can be harmful to your perspective of life. especially when you're working your ass off to make everything seem better.

Whoregan the Hermit

okay, so i'm aware of the fact that i don't have a proper life where i go out and do totally awesome, jawdroppingly exciting stuff, but i do the best with what i've got. and unlike sarro (whom, i will add, just for those of you out there who don't watch the land before time, he's a dinosaur ((well more specifically a brontosaurus)) who is part of little foot's tribe, little foot being a little ((surprise surprise)) brontosaurus), i am a storyspeaker, and hence can make a tiny story into an epic tale (and not just bs about dinosaurs racing the wind down mountains and rescuing your sister purely for the sakes of incestual shit).

today, i saw harry potter: the half blood prince, twice. you'd think that i'd be sick of the movie by now, but no. it was extremely compelling from start to finish. of course, sans the fact that there was an obvious lack of potter orgy with all of paddy and i's favourites. my mother and i came to the conclusion that the reason why the harry potter movies never cease to amaze everyone (aside from having an amazing plotline) is because they are british actors. yes, i know, we've actually found something the brits are good for! acting, and reese's peanut butter cups. still a shame about lack of orgy, but you know, life goes on.

another thing i noticed was how amazingly babelicious hermione and ginny have become. i mean, those girls have seriously blossomed, especially hermione. although she lacks character, as does ginny. if you want character, see "luna lovegood". my dad is in love with her. everytime she came on the screen, dad just went "i dig this chick." ahh, the sadness of my family members.

all over, my holidays have been fairly eventful except for this week, the title of this blog is "whoregan the hermit", confused as to why it's named that, but we'll keep it there. just for name's sake. still at a loss of what to get matt for his birthday. ahh, ideas?

Padraic Xavier Gidney and Co

padraic, or more commonly known as pad, paddy or padz0rz, exists as an unlimited resource of entertainment, fun and happiness. not only does he have a potato bucket in his home, and has an extremely high alcohol tolerance, but also dresses stylishly in drag. he's always up for popcorn and middle-of-the-day hardcore potter porn. this child knows how to dance, sing and clap retardedly, and he also pwns annie feng at science. this is a commendable quality, as annie feng exists only in the world of homework and study. a feng is a rare species of teenager, and the only ones likely to find one, are the people who know where to look. this is paddy. this my friends, is the pinnacle of light at igs.

verena laurelai osman king. world's smartest blonde. makes everything said by any kind of person take on a deliciously dirty perspective, which always ends in tearshed (only of the good kind, of course) and never fails to lighten the atmosphere. this little girl seems innocent enough, but when portrayed in the correct light, and if you are like me, her accomplice, and have a vast knowledge of her plans for the future (includes evil plots of the destruction of certain people's lives), then things could get a bit hairy (if she were here, that would've automatically become an innuendo).

chelsea, chelsea, chelsea. where to start?
firstly, she is the only bogan i know that i actually love to pieces. the rest of them are horrible and disgusting. i saw a fat eight year old boy in whyalla with an ac/dc shirt, a rats tail and an ear piercing and i almost suffered from cardiac arrest.

she admits that she's a bogan, but she still loves the fact that she is. and i respect that.

she lives in flannos and boots, and we both talk about our chunky

black boots and how video did in fact kill the radio star.

she always tells me when something looks good and when something looks horrible. she's honest and she's good natured.

she can even laugh when a grassy marshmellow is stuck to her favourite pair of jeans and joel is pointing and laughing. coming to think of it, that was so damn funny. she looked like a sheep, with a dag hanging off her ass, if only she were woolly...*looks distant*

alex claire mcconnell, also known as just plain alex is, in short, the reason i live. she's a born comedian and does the most hilarious impersonation of slim dusty you will ever see. i've known her for most of my life and she just cracks me up. the times we've bitched about our imperfections are countless. but she's perfect in my eyes. i love her to absolut vodka. she rocks the casbah.

matthew john george davis. the most ridiculous name for the most ridiculously AMAZING boy. ohh, see that quick save? verena says it's a stupid name because it sounds like a recitation of all the names of the books in the bible. but apparently it's his grandfather's names from both sides of the family.

why is he upside down you ask? because he's cool enough to be upside down. why is he holding a knife you ask? because he's cool enough to hold a knife. oh, and that comes in handy for the occasional stabbing here and there.

he reads, which is amazing of course. considering boys of this age don't usually do anything requiring brain strength/intellect. his hands are always warm and he looks nice in grey skinnies. *iz awesome*

so basically these are just little dedications to the awesome people that make my life simply amazing and all that jazzzzz.

cheers big ears.

Passive Aggressive

so there are always those moods where you stop and think: "i could easily go after someone with a knife right about now." or maybe you're one of those people that think: "wow. that was incredibly innapropriate. i may step on their foot subtly later on." or maybe you're one of those psychotic killers that go out and instantly kill the first person you see and drag the body behind some bushes and then get the hell out of there.

now, we've all had those morbid moods. but then there are those moods where you just feel like bursting into tears, or eating a whole five packets of your favourite flavoured chips, or telling the 440 bus driver things that should not be repeated on a site, much less a site that may be being stalked by family members of mine.

or what about the moods where you want to sing all your favourite abba hits really really loudly and embarrass everyone around you? or tell a boy you love them and then go and jump on their bed and make it really messy? or what about those moods where you feel really kind, and you go and make your mum a hot water bottle and read her german bedtime stories?

my life is one massive infusion of all of these feelings put together in one, and it can sometimes get very crowded in my head, with lots of thoughts, feelings and paddy's jokes going every which way. (who might i add, has given a continuous nostalgic feel on all aspects of my life in past months, and i truly thank him for it). days are long, hours are hard but it all pays off in the end.

yeah...it was one of those days.

Late Night Thoughts

1. Why does underarm hair grow back practically right after you shave it?
2. Why do boys only like you, once you've stopped liking them?
3. Why do models still think they're fat, when everyone else around them are three sizes bigger?
4. Why does the government say they're there to help, but they exploit everyone?
5. Why do black people get extra services and rights, when they abuse us caucasians just as much as we abuse them?
6. Why does Micheal Jackson get more credit now that he's dead, than when he was alive?
7. Why do paedophiles continue to rape young children even though they know that all of society shuns them, and they are fully aware of the consequences?
8. Why is it that Germans and Irishmen have a higher alcohol count, yet Brits drink far more often?
9.Why am I hungry?

Just some random questions floating around.

Caro is teh shit

Pree sure Caro shits on all you other german exchange students. Infact, these last couple of weeks have been so awesome with her here.

She racks up a pretty gnarly impersonation of Aussie girls too. Especially their laughs. She even thinks we have a particular dress code. i.e. bombers, skinnies and raybans. I couldn't stop laughing at her cute ways of saying things. Like "uck boots" instead of "ugg boots".

Naww. Caro. <3

For teh Lulz

They look similar, or so Otis likes to think.
But I would have to say that in this particular photo, the saturation in his eyes mostly contributes to the similarity.
But I can assure you that Otis is not a vampire, just because he can drink a cup of melted butter doesn't mean he'll drink blood.





Verena and Yayoi Kusama.
Their shiny fabrics and crazy eye shite.
Complete opposites yet exactly the same. If I could pull that Salvador Dali quote out of the arsenal, I would. But I've forgotten it. Anyway, it had something to do with his brother that was also called Salvador. They were like "two drops of water" but if they "looked in the mirror" they'd see "two completely different reflections".









Nana Maskouri and I.
Her voice is probably the most disgusting thing ever and kind of sounds like a cat being skinned alive. Still, the glasses make for a dorky resemblance.





Alex and k.d. Lang.
Of course Lang having a beautiful voice in comparison to that of Maskouri, I would have to say I am jealous of Alex for resembling her in some fashion. But maybe that's just my eyes telling that. Stay tuned for more.

The Art Fag Capital

i visited melbourne (art fag head quarters) last week, and let me tell you, did i have good times there. firstly, there's salvador dali. always an inspiration with his crazily accentuated hourglass figure women and his skull-raping pianos. a day in pompeii exhibition was completely genius. the casts of the preserved people was pretty darn cool, even if some women did run out to be sick.

we stopped over at canberra, and that was truly horrible. we stayed in a pioneer's cottage overnight and the temperature reached minus five. we had about every article of clothing glued to us while we slept under three duvets. my german exchange student however, was not so lucky and did not even recieve the anna spoon warmth that i did. she was in the living room with all but two paper thin blankets and a nightie. her lips were blue by morning.

the weather was beautiful, despite how grumpy we all were. we took some nice shots with my wonderful canon dslr (but he likes to go by the name mortimer). it kind of sucks when your friends are complete arsehats with photography, because then they always look nice in photos, and you always look like the munted quasimodo that pretends like they're part of the group, but in reality, you're just hobbling behind, looking casual (as hard as that is when one shoulder is bigger than the other) and stealing their breadloaves.

but trips always have their good sides. we were on the waterfront, with a wonderful apartment (lovely views of southbank and the naked woman who continuously forgets to close her blinds when changing) that was completely modern and HEATED. unlike the aforementioned pioneer's cottage, which apparently was the home that raised several children. with one bathroom, i can't imagine. but now i am back in sydney and loving the completely unlimited access to all forms of communication. and have my own wireless thankyou very much you stingey melbournians.

scrapbooking heap

i've started a journal, and it's probably the best out of all the ones i've kept.
it looks pretty amazing and the collages are all closely knit and the writing is romanian.
ahh, the wonders of google translate.

verena told me she'd be at glebe markets today with max wilkinson, that local musician trying to make his way into the music world etc etc. his music is quite nice and peaceful. and it reminds me of a boy version similar to that of kimya dawson.

my latest flashback was walking through the streets of what looks like cardiff. i'm wearing my red gloves and matching beanie and i was breathing out and watching the foggy breath disappear and mesh into the cold air. i think i was four at the time. that particular street that had the street lamps that resembled the one out of narnia. i wish i was four again.

new found obsessions

a new found obession with acoustic music from my childhood has left my mood elevated and bright. the likes of the kinks, joni mitchell, belle and sebastian and k.d. lang have been constantly sending ambient streams of music from the loft being my room.

i've been using father's recording studio as means of creating my own music influenced by specific artists. it's a good thing i came across a passion that flowed deeply as music, because i was starting to need a productive way to expel my creative energy.

my friend verena believes i have the talent and could go professional if i so wished. i already had a discussion about this today, and i thought it was a ridiculous sentiment, because we all know how reckless and painfully abusive the music industry can be to one's soul. i've also taken up painting, writing and drawing. my careers educator thinks i should pursue a career that's more creatively inclined. i feel compelled to agree.