Return of the Dead

Yes, I realise I’m late for Halloween.
Congratulations, Protection for winning the Melbourne Cup though. Go, Germany!
Expectation is the greatest burden man can bear.
No, I don’t believe in that wom’n nonsense. We have a lot more things to worry about before semantics.
See you tomorrow.


There goes Number Three

The third lost daily prompt/postaday and I’m livid.

For posterity, when we have more hope and might consider risking another post on a web browser,


Super Upset

This post isn’t anything special or thought-out. I’m just blowing off some steam – I did two daily prompts with much angsting, and thought I was protecting myself by saving drafts constantly but now those drafts are nowhere to be found, and all I have are empty posts.

Eurgh. Working on this. Watch this space for updates, I’ve not become a glitchy bot poster.

Thank Crime for Peripeteia

And was October or September when I drifted away from this blog again, thinking that the everyday life – my everyday life, unlike others’ – was too dull – too conflictless – too peaceful – for me to relive in print. 


Long story short, Sober story drunk: I was stolen from. It rocked my world, it really did. Right in its struts, my world was rocked. How could this happen to me? I thought; who could do this?; who could do this and remain stoic and unbending with the shattering of my innocence under their deeds?

I was furious, sad but most of all, embarrassed. I thought that my naivete was once again exhibited, flashed at the world of sleazy boys and girls getting together, of drugs and rock and roll – of vulgarity, fucking and commonness. I know by now, as a “young woman” of the age of twenty, that when I’m shown up like that, a large part of my anger is born of shame and a desire to be more worldly.

But ultimately, this occasion, this occurrence of the loss of three hundred expensive Australian dollars, has lead me to back here, to you. All my die-hard fans, you’ve waited long, or not, for my return to the small, printed screen and only time will tell if you have never to wait again. When I have anger within me that I can’t rightfully release onto others, or express to someone who’ll understand all the words I use, I’ll always have the great, unlimitable plains of the Internet. 

I really can’t wrap my head around a person who can see someone’s suffering and not recant soon after. Inform me, Internet.

S17 Ep4 – Goth Kids 3: Dawn of the Posers

Pretty neat episode this week.

South Park continues to teach me the privileged lingo of first-world brats, delivering it in a cute parody of religious divisions, the farcical nature of entertainment these days and the power of the mind to cripple itself.

The little discussion over the library table about the role of Poe in founding goths, vamps or emos was quite a cute imitation of the Jews’, Christians and Muslims tussle over Jesus – I wonder if the fanatics think that Trey and Matt make a good point, if they’re violently insulted or if they’re not able to notice it at all?

I disagree with the rather dull non-goth/vamp/emos who think that they’re all the same though: there is a huge difference between someone who hates life and someone who hates themselves. The way they reach their decisions is totally and utterly different, but the decisions that they reach will both be based in hopelessness and hate, so that, overall, in the end, the result is the same. So all we Christians, Jews and Muslims, we goths, vamps and emos should live together peacefully because we share an ends!

But seriously, though, emos suck. If you hate yourself, go fix yourself up, douchebag! Read a few self-help novels, go find yourself a shrink, just do something about it, you fucking vegetable!

I loved how despite all of the goths, vamps, E.A.P and that one gardener taking the whole emo-takeover conspiracy so seriously, Trey and Matt turned the whole thing into a stupid reality stunt. It would probably be too far to consider this as a nod to the massive amount of power that the media has over the way we see the world, but media entertainment is definitely sinking into deeper dependency on the shock-and-awe tactic.

Henrietta’s turnaround from emo to goth again was hilarious.

Henrietta: Nnnoooo, there’s an organic spore in my head that made me switch cliques so easily.
Michael: No, you just kind of did it on your own.
Henrietta: Oh my Gawd. [closes her eyes, drops her pen on the table, and pinches her nose at the bridge] This is so… em-barrassing.
Pete: Ahh, hang on. What I meant to say was [flips his hair] we just infiltrated the Emo lair and… we torched the plant leader.

She picked the healthiest way to deal with that kind of revelation – it’s an intelligent and practise artist of doublethink, who can keep their world from self-destructing for so long.


This still. You can see the summoning is happening right in the middle between the literature and science sections – the meeting of the two human arts is magic, religion and the occult. And, of course, our random chime at every major debate, who has no real investment in the issue and argues to hear his own voice. He’s objective enough to do pretty spot-on analyses though.

And, coming up next: Ike’s balls drop!