It’s raining today, there’re fucking umbrellas everywhere. Umbrellas are up there with Hyundais on my hatred scale. That’s pretty high up.
Inadvertists or just plain old bastards stalk the streets with umbrellas that I’m sure should be shading a table in a beer garden somewhere.
Fucking dozy bastards, it’s hardly raining, you’re blocking the footpath and you walk too slow.
No pedestrian licence for you.
My girlfriend also hates umbrellas. This is a trait I find particularly endearing.
I haven’t been posting lately due to extreme happiness. I’m either at work, which is busy and stimulating, or spending time with my beautiful girl. Either way, time flies.
When I do post, it is in idle moments (currently on a bus going home). But I feel a real motivation to write something big. It’ll happen soon.
Bought a shitload of new clothes recently–and two new guitars. Heading home to do my washing tonight.
In other news, and to the astoundment of those that know me, I’ve been waking up at around 6 every morning.
Almost at my stop, got to go …
I don’t believe in hell, but if I did, my personal hell would be:
A world where the only cars were Hyundais. I’d spend the day constantly cold and wet, ironing the same shirt endlessly. Screaming children would run about vomiting on me while LeAnn Rimes pumped ‘Can’t fight the moonlight’ out of distorting speakers.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner would be mashed pumpkin, and the only thing to drink would be Dr Pepper.
The phone would ring constantly, but if you picked up, it would always be a telemarketer.
Streets would be covered in dogshit and the only footwear would be thongs.
What’s your hell?
(written on a phone in a cafe while I wait for a store to open so I can buy a shirt to wear to work …)
I’m sitting on a pub veranda with a pint, watching the city move.
Today I had some rice paper rolls for lunch. I noticed something quite interesting–the texture of moist rice paper is near identical to the skin of a green tree frog.
So if you’ve ever wondered what a frog’s skin feels like, touch some rice paper.
Alternatively, if you’ve never felt the delicate cling of a rice paper roll, grab yourself a frog.
As you were–I’m getting back to my beer.
I’m on the bus heading home after a half day at work. I’m not really any more tired than usual; just feel a bit self indulgent. The world can wait.
Listening to ACDC sing about some girl who has rhythm. I have a girl at the moment whom I adore; things are going well–I’m so scared something will happen to fuck things up.
I over-analyse things too much and play out things too far in my head. It’s useful for creating believable characters for fiction, but so draining in day-to-day life.
I, like many people, strive to attain something close to perfection in the various aspects of life; thing is, it’s never quite achievable.
I can’t get the colours to match up on my dual screen set-up at work–I guess I should just be happy with what I have.
I’m writing this from the back of a moving car. We’re heading interstate to go to a certain beach; the weather is sweet, and I’m pretty sure the birds are singing.
I’ve finally got this mobile internet thing connected and working, and at some stage I’ll find a mobile blogging client that will let me post pictures on the fly.
Technology is cool.
