22 February

Plagiarised Existence

refuse.resist

"Misery no longer loves company. Nowadays it insists on it." - And while that wee bit of advice from a capable Jewish mind is quite an observation, it's more or less irrelevant to my current state of mind.

Life is pretty good at the moment. I'm working 3 days a week, waiting at a certain Boddrum, Newmarket's finest offering in the highly lucrative Turkish restaurant market. Belly dancing on Friday and Saturday, and a good, friendly (whether this is induced by the general blood alcohol levels of the patrons or not is irrelevant) atmosphere. Can you believe, I'm actually fucked off I don't start work 'till 7pm tonight and tomorrow? I've decided the reason I like waiting so much at Boddrum as opposed to my work at ole Café BB's is that the people who I work with actually like their jobs. It probably even rubs off on 'ole gloomy, doomy Timmage.

Now for a short rant on issues raised by a certain Barnya Diary. Disclaimer: This is most certainly not intended as criticism of the webdiary itself, more than the concept, a supposed "Tall Poppy Syndrome" brings a smile to 'ole Tim's face (yes, yes I regard myself as 'ole now, is that such a problem?). I really don't know where to start here, because my mind is brimming with ideas. Okay: I am not an anti-Semite, in that I do not have a blind hatred for the Jewish race. Nosiree, some of the greatest writers and artists (in every sense of the word) in the World are Jewish. While I may never have found Seinfeld particularly hilarious, I do admire a lot of Jews. While our Maximilian probably couldn't claim to be of full Jewish descent, he sort of misinterpreted my comment somewhat. No, I didn't mean "All Jews are selfish" (though I am prone to making sweeping generalisations, as anyone reading knows) I simply implied that America, and yeah, by deduction the Jews living there, have a habit for...excessive indulgence of their own desires. Oh yeah, and the highest rate of obesity in the world.

Euch. Now, I think it's time to tackle the old Tall Poppy Syndrome head-on, then stamp its battered corpse into the ground, if I may. Speaking on a purely personal level, my distaste for America sprouts from the fact that they have the total and utter belief that no other nation in the world has the right to dislike them. Surely this is reason enough to feel some resentment towards them? No? Right. I suppose tall poppy syndrome explains my general resentment towards the state of "Israel" then too? Pah. To be honest, I don't think there's anyone in the West with any admiration of the fucking mess that place has become. Now, "misguided Max" (if I may call him that) has been led to believe that "Tall Poppy Syndrome" (while I have total faith in the validity of the concept) can be applied to all discrimination. A mere two entries later, we're cracking jokes about Arabs crowded Israeli shopping centres? Do you think the Arabs resent the Jews because they're succeeding more than them? Probably, but what you brush under the carpet with your catch-all Tall Poppy Syndrome is a history of mutual bad will and religious discrimination. I think America does its fair share to earn my genuine resentment also, my friend. Presenting itself as the saviour of the World, and the "destroyer of Evil" when all it has done is attempt to force its own social doctrines upon less developed countries (yeah, most of the World, at one point or another) and crush (whether through economic or military sanctions) those who refuse to yield to its deep-set imperialistic ways.

Well Max (as you're probably the only person reading at this stage of the "short rant") while I do enjoy your witticisms and clear musical authority, I'm not sure anyone is too interested in listening to hopeless political rhetoric about the state of the Australian government, or the rather polarised views of Barnya and Gray on the whole "Tall Poppy Syndrome" line, as applied to the Evil Empire, America. For the record, New Zealand doesn't resent the Blues because they keep winning the Super 12, in fact, they have put up consistently poor Super 12 performances in recent years. I think your tall poppy syndrome has more of a place describing the general New Zealand sentiment towards "Dorkland", yet saying that the average East Coaster has fair reasons for resenting us too. Perhaps you should get over your "half-Jewish" heritage, even if your ancestors have been historically discriminated against, playing the whole "Oh, Tim you are wrong because you're an ignorant racist" card doesn't impress me one bit. Anyway, now appropriate are the last words of a certain George Saunders, Rumination of the Moment:™ "Good-bye. I am leaving because I am bored."

17 February

Banging My Head Against Some Mad Bugger's Wall

Post-Grammar Dream

Pretentious. Self-indulgent. A real mind fuck. And why not? Why should my journal not "follow a self-indulgent mould"? It is my journal after all. Ahh, great ideological conflicts, extending far beyond the ultimate purpose of online journals or how they should be laid out. These, my friends, weigh on my mind tonight.

After reading the online journal of my good friend Max Bania it seems all rather pointless trying to convey a unique perspective on the internet when ultimately I'm only shouted down by Americans or Jews (truly the most self-indulgent demographic of the World) and am hounded for trying to produce something to satisfy myself (can I repeat that is the main purpose of my journal?) and perhaps interest others (if only for the novelty in discovering what a "fucked up cunt" I am).

To massively diverge from my previous chain of thought, today has been rather the great day. It seems I'd forgotten how good it feels to be out in the searing New Zealand sun with people whose company I enjoy doing something I like. I guess there's some deep sort of bonding involved, but it was more satisfying to finally put my quickly-withering calf muscles to use. Oh yes, after losing 2 kg in the space of about 4-5 days (can anyone say unhealthy?) I think physical excercise was just what I needed to lift any dissatisfaction with life I may have been feeling (that said, I haven't really felt that recently), and loaded up on four pieces of toast with lavish servings of peanut butter, an exodus around Cornwall Park and down "The Big Kahuna" as it was dubbed prior to my knowledge of it set me in the whole "Oh how great things are" mentality. That said, writing that down on paper embarasses me so much. So much so, that I will bid you adieu. Rumination of the Moment™: "Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point." Adieu.

16 February

Crucifiction Ecstasy

scape

Oh the joys of degradation! And why not? Why shouldn't I act as a scapegoat for the woes of others? Have I not before? "Tim fucken Grey" strikes again, intent on hurting those around him for some sick personal pleasure...Yup, that's me. You had better believe it.

Sarcasm aside, what the fuck do people think? I am "out to destroy them", they complain about being hurt and easily offended, yet accusing me of destroying them, does that not affect me? Please. May I attribute this to the Fall of Man? I swear, I have nothing to do with it.

Tonight was rather the occasion, with pizza at DeNiro's (no I can't spell that) served by a certain Blast from the Past™ who Finn promptly identified. While my traumatising childhood memories of this individual don't extend beyond an image of her with a burger ring through her nose and accompanying burgearrings...GET IT?! "Burgearrings"! - Ahhh classic.

This was followed by a good hour of indecision at the video store as we contemplated what to watch, before finally deciding on ¶ or "Pi" for those of us who are significantly less pretentious. A rather grand flick, though not received very well by my peers...I guess I'll put it down to the head-exploding TV they were forced to watch it on...sorry guys.

There are other things I wish to discuss, but not really to the world...I guess I don't want the internet exclusively as a vessel to vent frustration and distaste for the world. It really can't be too healthy. Rumination of the Moment™: "My friend, lewd pleasures were ever dearer to me than anything else, I have idolized than all my life and my wish has been to end it in their bosom; my end draws near, six women lovelier than the light of day are waiting in the chamber adjoining, I have reserved them for this moment, partake of the feast with me, following my example embrace them instead of the vain sophistries of superstition.." Yes...it's longer than the actual entry...I realised that.

11 February

Que sera sera

sentimentispect

Hello. It's been a while. For any of you wondering where the hell I've been, the answer is "wiling away January and February". I make no secret of the fact that I've basically achieved nothing...I've done nothing at all. My attempts to salvage friendships with those who daily slip further away from me are futile. Am I supposed to do something about it? How? Right now, I think I could use a session with the newly-discovered Auckland Grammar School Guidance Counsellor...if only such a person had offered their services in my day. My actual commitment to this journal throughout the holidays has been so temperamental, so wavering and disregarding I feel almost ashamed. I feel like I've something to say, I want to give the "run down" on my time at Alan Russell's bach yet all motivation seems to be missing...the daily grind...the monotony...it doesn't belong here.

That said, as a "voyage of personal discovery" note, a certain Robarti Q. said something to me recently, that nothing seems to have any consequence in my relationship with a certain person. I think there's an element of truth to that, and I'm trying to find what's wrong with it, as it works rather well for me. Does this make my relationship with this person stronger, or simply stagnant? Whatever the case, I spent yesterday with him, and it just reminded me how much I miss seeing my friends on a daily basis. When it came time to leave, I couldn't even look him in the eye to say good bye on the verge of tears. Rumination of the Moment™: "...what a fucked up cunt Tim Gray is..." Too true...too true.

6 February

Last Straw

defamation

What do you do when the last few days of your life have been totally positive and great, so great in fact that you've remarked to the people around you about just how good you feel, then one day someone does something that instills a bitter disgust at humanity oncemore? I know I don't know. Too much of a good thing for Tim mayhaps? Help me. Someone deceives you and again all faith in those friendships that you placed such a huge emotional investment in is destroyed. Rumination of the Moment™: It tears down the tears down the tears down the tears down the tears down the tears down the tears.

30 January

Post Mortem

Student of Life

Ahh, the day has finally come! As I hammer at keys in the early hours of the morning, I take some satisfaction that Ravishing Robert shall set foot on the Motherland oncemore. I don't think I've felt so excited about something for a long time, so you had better impress me Robert! No, really, I understand you'll probably be tired as anything, so I will do my best to drag you out and about as soon as I can and talk your ear off. I'm sorry, was this supposed to be a diary entry?

Well, I have rather a lot to say, and with the risk of forgetting something, I figure it might just be better to not try at all. The only thing that screams my attention was a party I attended on a certain Saturday night. Can I say, despite the fact it ended with me being bludgeoned in the back of the head with a pole and having my head kicked at the curb that it was one of the greatest experiences of my life? In short, I just loved the experience of being surrounded by so many people. Uh, yes, delicious asian peach, too. More on that later? I doubt it. I would dwell on this for ages, but the chances are I've already retold this story to you in person. I must say, it doesn't take much to get the shit beaten out of you. My entire body has been left sore, but more of a dull, neural system damaging attack than the broken bottle attack that befell Matthew. His entire front has been cut up rather nastily, while most of my bumps and bruises exist on my head. One of the things that has struck me since that wee run in is that, in some twisted way, I am glad to be alive.

Too often I fall into this trap of thinking "Oh dear, life sucks" etc, etc and I begin to worry about my future. However, being exposed to people like those who brought upon Matthew and I a rather vicious beating makes me feel superior...I guess that's all I can really say, because it's the absolute truth. Other news? Well I was accepted to begin a BA/LLB at Auckland University this year which means a year of hard work I guess. God, the thought of myself as a lawyer...can I just take momentary comfort in the fact that less than half of the people who complete law degrees now practise law? Phew. Today (uh, yesterday) my more unfortunate compadres made their glorious return to school. I hope that they all get out of their 7th form year what they want to, and that we can stay in contact...I've probably bitched at length about this before, but it will be sad not to see some of those guys on a daily basis. Never mind. Rumination of the Moment™: "So hold me Mum, in your longs arms, in your petrochemical arms, your military arms, in your electronic arms."

21 January

The Fletcher Memorial Home for Incurable Tyrants and Kings.

remorse

So, there I was watching the "recap" of the dramatically climactic season finale of Shortland Street 2001 and a phonecall comes through...my dad..."Geez, I know we said we'd be home today, but we've decided to stay on for a while because it's so nice, you understand."

I find myself increasingly loathing that man. He's been away for 10 days now, and not only did he take every resource in the house (down to the half-eaten block of cheese) but left me with a big fat nothing to provide for myself with. I've missed the Big Day Out, spent my money on buying fucking cat food and basically run dry. What could be worse? I missed the end of Shortland Street. Pshaw.

If this 10 days of almost complete solitude have done anything, they've allowed me to explore myself on a more personal level (that's total bullshit!), to express myself to others through the relative safety of ICQ, and to listen to all the bad music I want to. In fact, rather shockingly, I have come to enjoy parts of one of Pink Floyd's most shameful albums, The Final Cut. So much so, in fact, that 23 Horror-eka Ave has temporarily assumed the title of "The Fletcher Memorial Home for Incurable Tyrants and Kings"...a little obscure I guess, but wholly accurate, I feel. Being in this place alone for such a long time is changing me...summer usually heals me, but I just feel like I'm experiencing slow, insidious decay. I can't really tell what's real or not anymore, and it might just be me becoming jaded from watching the 6 most offensive video clips of all time at Stileproject, but odd things are happening. I am costantly head-achy, and my panadol consumption is up. Because we drank this place out of house and home, I haven't touched alcohol for a good (oh, apart from at Matt's the other day) 10 days...today I felt like I was hallucinating, my hands were changing colour as I hammered away at the keyboard, though I've since just put it down to massive radiation intake.

I do hope we shall be off to Beauty and the Beast in due course and that social contact might become a more regular thing oncemore. A few months ago I had this theory that I was a natural loner and did best on my own (which to an extent I still believe), but now I simply yearn to see familiar people more and more (mayhaps this is to make up for the absence of family?) and it's getting to the point where I'm depressed unless surrounded by people. How silly. Rumination of the Moment™: "The ringing of the Division Bell had begun".

16 January

Euthanase me.

love.hate

Argh this entry has been long delayed. Everyday I think about things I want to say here, yet seldom it is that I get the chance to sit down and pan them all out. Firstly, I think my last entry got a little personal/emotive/non-sensical, and I apologise for that, because I come across as (god forbid) fucked up. Having said that, I expect this entry may be quite the same. So, which do you want first...the good news or the bad?

I think I'll choose the good, because I feel that Friday night/Saturday morning was a positive experience which I wish to retell. It all began with a call from Matt, asking me to join him, Danny D and Alan Russell at a certain free electronica concert in town. After making our merry way to town, and ordering the "Delicious beautiful chicken in a spicy sauce!!!!!!!!" we headed on up to where the "action" was...a few teenagers, Heineken in hand, serenely bobbing up and down in the rain...phat. This prompted us to visit Brazil, for a round of pretentious drinks, before coming back to find the "party" all over a full hour and a half prematurely. No matter, it was decided (and I had no part in this decision!) that we would buy some weed and head back to my house. Matt, Alan and I must have waited a good 30 minutes outside this guys house commenting on the number of unsavoury characters emerging from it before Daniel finally returned...now under the influence of certain illegal substances Daniel was more keen than ever to get back to my house...

And that we did, arriving home to the demand that they ingest the weed with some cereal and milk (I'll pretend for now that I coined that very practise) while I sat and watched in horror. Due to the small amounts ingested, I don't think anyone felt a thing (again, I stress that I didn't touch the stuff myself) and soon Danny was to be picked up by a worried mother. Pheww! This cleared the way for musical liberation...no longer did we have to obey to the audiophile snobbery of Daniel, and for the next 4 and a half hours, Alan, Matt and I sat in my lounge in the darkness, candle alight in the middle, talking and drinking scotch. We polished off a bottle before moving to the Sambucca, and as a last resort, beer...is there anything finer than mixing such drinks? Ugh. Twas truly pleasant at the time however, and even The Wall managed to get a run through before sound control phoned at 4:30am. I handled this seamlessly, with characteristic charisma, and soon Godspeed You Black Emperor filled the room oncemore. By this stage, all of us were almost entirely incoherent, and despite Matt's insistence on finding more alcohol (no Matthew, it's not out the front door) and attempts to head butt me into submission, I soon had that pathetic drunks tucked up in bed with a glass of water at their sides. And yes, I was equally as pathetic!

The next morning began slowly, featuring OK Computer and a large "progressive" fry-up, in which item by item, many a delicious breakfast treat was prepared to quell the alcohol which so swished and swashed in our stomachs. What a day.

Stare at this picture. Look closer. Don't move those eyes (yes, this entry is taking a turn for the worse)