Ah technology, is it not a wonderful? if i had any inkling that i would be updating this website in the middle of Heathrow airport. whooop! like 30 seconds remaining on my time. ah expensive as hell, that is the catch. saw Lord of the Rings, as i'm sure you all have done. was very kick ass, i cried when the small moth flew over isengard. Then again, haven't been to a traditional (in the utterly crass commercial sense) movieplex lately. Meeks, if you are in kl, gimme a call in the call in the afternoon of the 31st. can't see what i'm writing, so i'll go. peace, miss all of you .

MERRRY XXXMAASS

If I was there, I would go. Because I would be curious, in a nosy way.

Movies I have seen over the past few days:

The Ref - you can't go wrong with Denis Leary and Kevin Spacey. B+

Kevin and Perry Go Large - can be summed up in the phrase "kill me, kill me, give me back the 90 minutes I have wasted watching this movie and the 2 bucks I spent renting it." F

Me, Myself, and Irene - surprisingly good, Jim Carrey wasn't too annoying. B

I am glad that you like the No-Frills layout. I will comment on your comments tomorrow, after I have slept.

I like this new no-frills layout.

purging leaves oneself with a _feeling_ of emptiness. I'm not sure I feel empty whenever I do get round to venting my insecurities. Also, I know I need to foreground how I feel about certain things. I'm also comfortable with any pattern of venting. Life is a huge vent for insecurity. Does insecurity, in relation to the world as we know it, seem as significant as someone else's suffering? Not like contextualising insecurity to justify how I feel, I was reading about Frederick Douglass last night and I lacked concentration to complete even 10 pages of his narrative. It may not be "relevant" in the literal sense, as it was back in the 19C, but it is still significant. Although I feel that it milks the emotions, attempts to bolster political argument ie: fronting a black man in front of a racist discussion. It is a narrative, and there are many things coming into play I cannot consider.

emptiness, purging, anything related to the self is transient. I find that after a bout of concentration, I will have been rested in a completely uncomfortable position while I was concentrating. Does that make everything I do require utter silence and concentration? I don't know. I know that by this constant reminder, satisfaction does not equal comfort, and vice versa. viva les wrong frames of minds.

On a different note, I will now describe the sound of anonymous donkey that grazes on thrushes by industrial pondscum.
freed, later pace sway back forth grass leaves trees. God lives and grieves where pussy willows pussy-foot salient issues.

I think I am incapable of relief. It's true - that feelings become less intense over time, but I am rarely truly at peace. NO, I am not tortured. I do not wear black or cut myself. I just don't feel peaceful. Is that wrong? Is there something actually wrong with me, or is it okay to be this way? I don't mind it. I'm always self-stimulated.

Today is Yan's birthday. Happy Birthday YaNNNN!

Vin: I think I used to know who I was, but I'm not so sure anymore. I think me disagreeing with the tests is just me being disagreeable. Or maybe I do know who I am, and just don't like that person.

Han: It's very interesting what you said about your fear of purging because you don't want to be empty. I used to feel that way too, but then I found out that the bullshit just backs itself up again, so purging was infact *necessary*, lest I become absolutely 100% full of shit.

No, I create all my own problems, you missed the irony of the brain purge. Also, everything I write on this site is purely untried, untested. In other words, pure crap. That doesn't mean I'm lying everytime I write something, it means I twist around my meanings into unrecognisable things. I don't know why, it passes time.

I'm the last person to ask if you want to purge shit, because I am the king of unpurged shit. I have a backlog of unpurged shit that there would be trouble - were the unpurged shit unpacked from my brain and flung against a McDonald's window and competed against other brain-purge, like soggy pickle slices, for the "most gravity driven" award. No really. If I wrote all that should be unpurged though, I have a fear of being empty. I will go out of my way to aggravate, annoy etc myself all in effort to make sure I'm alive enough to experience frustration. Frustration being the better part of the downside of life.

So I deliberately keep shit locked tight. Which I'm content to relieve whenever it becomes unbearable, it's a lesson in life though. The unspeakable things unspoken are the essences of life that are alternating blank segments in a double-spaced document.

I think I'm coming back on the 31st of Dec, arriving at like 2pm... what a time to arrive eh

"finals are around the corner and not just around some distant corner but around that corner right there. ".

I wish you luck, young Mikkolah. My finals are now but a distant memory ... I have no contact with academia until March 2002. At the moment I am Bachelor of Arting (gimme a whooooooooooa politics!) and next year I am adding another degree. Either a Bachelor of Commerce or a Bachelor of Public Policy and Management. What does this mean? I add another year onto my degree. Pffft. Big deal. It took me 20 years to get to settle down and get stuck into uni, I may aswell hang around for a while. And anyway ... pubs.

My Tour Listing: I am not going to be in KL in December. I am going to be there in June/July. I am going to be in the USA (San Francisco, maybe NYC) in April. I am going to be in Adelaide in February (maybe, depending on Avhan). Inbetween all those other times I am going to be in and around the greater Melbourne area.

Mikko: the seasons are really weird here too. It is the start of December - technically the start of Summer - and I have three blankets on my bed, it is raining all the time, I am wearing a wooly jumper and think moose hide socks on my feet (spot the lie). It actually does rain a bit during the summer here, but I can't not ever remember it being this cold in December. I think the poles were reversed when I was asleep. *points finger in accusation at Maria Shriver*. BITCH.

To all: I have started writing a few stories but the problem is I have no ideas. I *AM* writer's block. How do you write, Han? I am trying to purge some shit out of my brain. HOW HOW HOW?

Hello people, I wrote a very cathartic vent last night. It was scary 500 words in like 5 minutes. Scary because I can retain that amount of restrainment at one time. I recall the movie Wonder Boys and I feel that is the way I behave, making it a ritualistic, perverse cat-and-mouse profession of avoiding resolutions to things. Ei: diablo 2. Is sent by the god-bitch of will power who makes the fat girl eat the next cookie with the simple reasoning that it is simply just "one cookie". One fucking cookie indeed.

I am writing again. hehe.

feels good, I thought of different ways of diverting the thought, keeping the formula of writing systematised while maintaining some semblance of variety. Not in the application of innovative thoughts, techniques upon words, meanings blah blah. A way, I have come up with is to keep a continuous stream of thought. Not some two page hows-your-father kind of rant, I'm talking hows-your-austrolopithicus, dinosaur sized stream of consciousness. Nothing deleted, though edited somewhat for clarity.

Another way is to systematically type a word at a prescribed point within the minute of the clock. Because the variation is intrinsic in participation, one need but write a word down. Everything is held constant, except it becomes an activity the most unlike writing because it is forcing you to rip thoughts to inaccurate condensations. Like sitting in a semantic shooting gallery.

VINAYAK. You're right, my poem was silly. However next time try to be a little more gentle and constructive in your criticism. Don't diss my art. DON'T. It makes me sad.

HEHEHEHE. I am just joking of course.

Sorry I haven't blogged on here in ages, but I don't know what to write about. Here is a list of things I could *potentially* write about:

1. What was on Springer today. ("My mom has a 17 year old girlfriend").

2. What was on Oprah today. (Maria Shriver gushing and name dropping - "oh, oh, I'm related to the Kennedys, everyone should love me." SORRY, hon, you lost all respectability when you married Arnold "Kindergarten Cop" Schwarzeneggar. I find it hilarious, and just a TAD BIT COINCEDENTAL, that she has called her new book, which is about mentally disabled people, "What's Wrong With Timmy?" South Park fans will appreciate the humour in this.)

3. How bad my dog smells (and he's just recently been washed, it's like he went out and deliberately stunk himself up).

4. This new radio competition they're having here in Melbourne that is just FUCKING INSANE and makes my blood run cold when I think about it. (Win 20 front row seats to the Live concert in Melbourne, and have drinks with the band after the show. What's the competition? BE BURIED ALIVE IN A COFFIN FOR 12 FUCKING HOURS. Someone please tell me that they're kidding).

5. A list of stupid things I did today.

6. My newfound hobby, that I resisted doing for years even though I found it completely intriguing, because Hollywood Fuck Sticks made it trendy. Yoga. Or, as I like to call it: YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING, I HAVE MUSCLES __THERE__, ow ow OW, what do you MEAN I have been breathing wrong for the past 21 years?!?!

Anyway. That is all for now. :D