From flamboyant red dragon shirts (Tristan I am buying that bitch off you!) to a rather uneventful Geography exam today. It was an unpleasant fuck (don't you love my use of imagery?), and I made numerous grievous errors which I just couldnt be bothered correcting (it would mess up the layout of the exam, y'hear?) and I'm expecting a pretty piss-poor mark. Whatever, the case, all of this...all we work for will mean nothing. My first semester of Uni will count for far more than your insignificant Bursary which you fret over next year. As much as I'm sorry for sounding superior (no, this is not my intention), its true, and I find that thought slightly frightening. Rumination of the Moment™: "If at first you don't succeed, find out if the loser gets anything". Alright then, who would like to join me on my noble quest against dictatorial powers? Sure, its social suicide...I admit it, I'm fucked...but its so very self-satisfying, and it's for a greater good!

12 November

Hate me.

Indigo

Time to scratch "Lunch with Finn" from the diary, apparently today is a day more suited to staying at home, with will probably lead to a sensation of intense guilt, ah vell. Despite the general gloominess and the general ohfuckivegotanexamtomorrowness of the day, I shall endeavour to make good. With the Get Tiffany League heating up with the arrival of several new players: Graham the Fresh, Hugo McFlame and Scabfuck, the dynamic duo of Omni and Robarti is under threat, while the possibility of new challengers coming to steal my precious Tiffany away looms ominously. Rumination of the Moment™: Heavens to betsy, you are a lung sucker and almost all of your life will be spent doing the laundry and your drippy genital wart could never be a winner. Okay, that's the last time I use Deliver the Dis as a means with which to ruminate...good bye!

11 November

Lose me.

Vera Lynn

Several school children in uniform wearing "faceless masks" lined up and saluting a dictatorial figure of power is frightening, I'm telling you. This is the horrific imagery which was clumsily pulled over The Wall by Roger Waters which we watched at Scoob's last night. Followed by Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, it was a pretty "r0x0r" vid night, but easily overshadowed by my mountaineering pursuits, which took me to the top of Mt. Hobson (which I've decided is easily the lesser of the "big four").

Last night was pretty introspective, as is any night where I get into arguments with my friends...but it would have crushed me had I not taken matters into my own hands and made a quick visit after leaving Scabjuh's and "sorted things out". Regardless when I finally did get home (aboot 2:45am) I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, which is usually a sign of a clear conscience.

Yesterday was a really cool day...sure, I further neglected any obligation to study or learn my year's work, but because of the large period of strong sunlight and warmth, I was given the opportunity to take a walk up Mt. Eden just after mid-day. Through an overwhelming desire to totally exhaust myself physically, I went down the crater and up the other side three times, to be applauded by a group of Taiwanese tourists upon my third ascent. As if this wasn't enough to restore my joy for life, I found a quiet spot on the mountain (overlooking the tranquil city of Auckland) and spent about thirty minutes in meditation, and again, I didn't feel a hint of sadness...this is a really liberating feeling (considering my tendency to be a "sad sack") and I came down the mountain refreshed and renewed only to make a life-changing discovery:

Get Tiffany - "Four guy who are trying to win favor over hottest girl in office" - A truly excellent game. Already I've succeeded in winning over Tiffany's heart many a time, and if this surprising trend could occur in real life for a change, I'd be in with a grin. I know my description of Get Tiffany make it seem really tragic (it is!) but it's one of the funniest games I've ever played, and you would be misssing out not to download it and play it at least once, so hop to it! In my few games, after announcing my New Zealand heritage I've been called a "fucking chink" as well as "bin laden" (oh my God America, just go to hell already) which had provided more than my fair share of entertainment...so what are you waiting for? Grab the game and give me a message and we can battle it out for the affections of "hottest girl in office". Rumination of the Moment™: "There are two kinds of people, those who finish what they start and so on." Well, I liked it, anyway.

10 November

Break you.

stigmata martyr

Last night provided another opportunity for a meeting of the Golden Trio at everyone's favourite Tanuki's Cave for a round of sake and chicken entrails. What could be better? Well, it was followed by an excursion to Finn's dad's party below renowned Mafia Hotspot "Toto's" in the "Monte Cristo" room...Monte Cristo indeed Toto, if that is your real name.

This was followed by another arduous walk home after several failures to catch the "night rider" (an extortionately-priced bus service running on the hour from 12am - 6am) which entailed disappointingly few profound comments (Robert, I am disappointed!) and many attempts on our lives. Well, maybe not...but plenty of pathetic screaming drunken people packed tightly into cars...it's almost the same!

Last night also heralded a revelation, one that I believe has the capability to destroy friendships and eventually this diary, but for the moment I think I'll just pretend it never happened and hope it to "blow over". I mean, if there's one thing that life has taught me, it's that everything always works out for the best. Rumination of the Moment™: Innocence and youth are but fodder for corruption. My god Spanish painters say a lot of crazy shit.

9 November

Scar You.

beautiful day

Another day, another disaster. Well perhaps I exaggerate a tad, but pitas was down yesterday which meant an awfully journal-deprived, Ultra-Cynical, Generally Nasty and Helluva Bad Mood Tim. Regardless, with that unpleasantness behind us, the show must go on!

Yesterday marked another glorious Combined Schools exam; Art History in this case. No gooda. In fact, I'd go as far as to say a fucking disaster, but it was a good wake-up call to the fact that the guy who's been teaching us all year has no idea what he's doing, and it will be a nice slap in the face to Auckland Grammar and a reminder that they can't just grab any old art teacher and ask him to teach art history in an art store room with no windows, desks or chairs. Seriously Auckland Grammar: Fuck you.

Ahh, I feel so very much better after that. Well, yesterday also provided the opportunity for me to stumble upon some more hilarious George Bush humour. Just the way that the internet floods with culturally relevant bullshit is entertaining in itself, but when some sad mulleted 36-year-old geek in Pennsylvania who roleplays a 14 year old girl to enter the minds of little boys while typing with one hand and jacking off with the other goes and uses "highly-advanced editing technology from Moon" to make a clip of George Bush uttering profanities, then I can't help but crack up. This rates up there with the pig mask cartoon, and its a tiny download too, so if you can play mp3s, then grab it here.

Well, the life is a superhero is not easy, my precious, and I must be off to face certain danger in the Domain of Louise™ (with the aid of some A-Class Explosives). Assuming we don't rouse Dick from his eternal slumber, we might just pull this one off. I shall leave you with the customary Rumination of the Moment™: I'm not in this world to live up to other people's expectations, nor do I feel that the world must live up to mine.

7 November

Use you.

Unbroken Horizon

Scratched before the race! Thanks Kapstaad Way! I get the cash back and it's all worthwhile! I must admit, andrenaline was pulsing through my veins as they approached the 2200 metre mark...what am I saying? It was quite horrid, and made all the worse by the fact the horse I would have bet on (ain't Ethereal a cool name?) won. Then again, I guess the entire event was kind of redeemed when the horse threw its jockey off and started stamping all over him when they were heading to the ceremony...ahh, nothing funnier than a tiny Australian in incredible pain.

Today marked the completion of the first (totally useless and entirely pointless) Combined Schools examination which was English...I don't think I've ever written a worse essay than my general essay "Unbroken Horizon", which is one of those essays which gets to about 3 and a 1/2 sides when you suddenly think "What the fuck? What am I doing, and how the hell am I supposed to end this?" Well, I find that happens every now and then, anyway.

Well, my next Combined Schools exam is tomorrow, and as much as I intend to totally neglect studying for it, staying in front of my computer on a fine, sunny day like today is just stupid. I believe a swim is an order, that is if I can clean all the deceased insects from the bottom. Rumination of the Moment:A toon killed his brother...dropped a piano on his head. First person to icq me and tell me where that one comes from gets a coconut [yes, I know, these are getting lamer and lamer...I'll have to do something about that soon - Ed]

6 November

Fuck you.

automatonic

Ahhh the Melbourne Cup...is this the most shameful day in mankind's existence or what? Mayhaps I exaggerate a tad, but perhaps for the first time, I'm so bitter and cynical to actually see the underlying evil of this occasion. The first thing that falls out of my paper when I pick it up at breakfast is a betters guide...excuse me? An information sheet with the in-out, in-outs of every horse, a poor attempt at humour, a quick track record and the colours that their jockey wears? Did I pay for this?! The so-called Tooheys New Melbourne Cup Day Sweep Special(commented on by the suavely sexy Mike Dillon which I've done the honour of scanning in very low resolution to give that "ugly, ugly man" effect. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, racing expert Mike Dillon:

You sexy beast, you.

Well, apparently now gambling is not only common practise but also encouraged! Yes, so much so the Herald has devoted an entire fold out (back-to-back with their War Against Terror Update) encouraging the family to "have a go" at the TAB...what fun. Oh...um, since writing this I've been told by my Mum that she put $3 each way on "Kaapstad Way", under the expert guidance of some jockey in a fire engine red suit...excellent. Let me quote the man of brilliance, Mike Dillon on Kaapstad Way: The unluckiest horse racing. Had two things go wrong when favourite in this race last year...All looks good...it seems I'm in with a Royal Chance!

In other "happs", I have exams starting tomorrow (phew!) which I care not about and have not even thought about studying for, so they could be a bit of a laugh. If I'm truly going to buy into this Tooheys New Melbourne Cup (but it's new people!) Madness then I guess now is my cue to retire and get drunk on champagne (in preparation for my win!) and leave you, my precious. I shall leave you with the Rumination of the Moment™:"Had no chance when she took control of her rider and tore away in front in the Caufield Cup" - Ahh Mike Dillon, you fill all of us with hope for humanity and a brighter tomorrow you sexy bitch, you.

Guy Fawkes

Taste you.

disappointment

Is this not the coolest day ever? The answer, of course, is no. I'm not sure if that makes the answer "yes, it is" or "no, its not", but regardless, I feel the monotony of life will be little enriched by drunken teenagers running around and "blowing shit up". I shiver to think how many people will lose partial or total eyesight in an eye tonight, because I know there'll be a few...was it really worth it for a few explosions? Maybe not for them, but for the rest of us, it just allows us to look at them and say "What fucking idiots, how did they manage that?"

Also of note today is my brother's birthday, which I can't help but feel little excitement about. There will be no meal out, yet an awkward dinner at which both my Mum, Dad, Step-mother and Step-father...notice the transition from "mum" to "mother"...I'm sure it could be explained by delving deep into my psyche, but who has time for that? Exams starting Wednesday, hoo fucking rah.

I think Finn hit the nail on the head when he talked about life being empty...where's the deep spiritual fulfilment or the sense of worth? Am I deliberately concealing it or is it just not there...and why? Such thought-provocative questions shall hopefully be answered in my Philosophy classes next year at Uni (and if not by the High Warlock of the Uni Pagan Club!) Ahh, the prospect of University...the only thing that can shake excitement into me apparently. Oh vell, I guess until then there's always the stimulating writings of the Art Historian John Canaday to ponder (which I should be doing now). Rumination of the Moment™: Does anybody else feel the way I do? - I'm looking for some kind of empathy or general sense of rapport diary. Just do something to convince me that things aren't nearly as empty, meaningless or monotonous as they're appearing at the moment...Hmm, perhaps I need to become religious.

3 November

Find you.

hung over

Sometimes I see things that really disappoint me. Hell, to be honest, I see stuff that disappoints me every day. People make bad decisions, which they can't even justify to themselves, and expect others to accept them, and many such displays of this behaviour occurred last night. Without naming names, it was one of those nights with the power to instill disbelief, followed by resentment, but to a lesser extent. Fortunately, I was so distracted with other matters to really dwell on this at the time.

Apparently more urgent was the near-death of my best friend. It was enough to make me feel sick, absolutely paralysed with fear, and its not just because he was vomiting all over me either. Vomit. That very word makes me gag...I should have done some of "that" last night or even this morning, but I never really got around to it. I had one hours sleep in a bath tub as I struggled to wipe the vomit away from my friend's mouth, and prevent him from inhaling any more into his lungs. I've never seen someone so drunk, and apparently neither had Tristan's mum, so it took a lot of being charismatic to convince her not to ring an ambulance. I understand the situation, because frankly I would want a young lad dying in my bathroom...but I did take care of him, and for that I have no regrets.

No regrets except my appalling sleep deprivation, anyway. I am truly and utterly trashed. As Matt and I sat in the bathroom through the early hours of the morning we continued to drink to sustain our drunkeness...that has really hurt me, and all day I've wanted to hurl...I cannot use the "v" word, because quite frankly it will only lead to a messy, sloppy keyboard. Alas, the sickness is creeping up, and I can only assume some food (no REAL sustinance in the last 30 hours) would do me good. Rumination of the Moment™: 'Tis better to be silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt. I like that one...I mean, I really didn't speak to anyone (there was a reason, people!) last night, and I guess its kinda appropriate...damn novelty boxers to hell.

1 November

Dream you.

comfortably numb

Aha! I return from a successful "late-night shopping" spree designed to provide my pal Tristan with the best (um, we hope so) present ever! Well, without saying too much, I want to share something with you. Something so shocking that you'll either love or hate it. You see, Geoff's Emporium provides more than just cheap faux crocodile leather, we also managed to source some dee-lish goodies which may or may not become part of Tristan's birthday gifts...I really don't want to say too much, other than anyone with a fetish for "double dips" may get an entire box (with stylish dust/fingerprint covering) of packets of double dips...the lollipop thingies. Argh, you know what I'm talking about. I present you with the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life:

The funniest thing I've ever seen in my life. Period.

You love it, you hate it, it doesn't change the fact it comes from the book lullen in de ruimte a wee dutch picture book I picked up for a dollar this afternoon...okay, I lie...we bought three copies (yes it is just that funny). We're assuming it's deep dutch political satire, because it's either that or just gratuitous and poorly drawn pictures of penises, which I find that much harder to accept.

My current pet-annoyance is a sense of crushing loneliness, and let's face it, this is an appeal for sympathy, dear diary. I feel that before school is even over (tomorrow is my last day of Auckland Grammar) I've slipped away from my friends. Hell, it's been going on for months, but I've always felt I had some support. It isn't here anymore people! Anyway, I maintain this is not a cry for help, but an appeal for sympathy. I pity the fact that my brother basically only has contact with two of his old friends since leaving Grammar, and it'll be all the more hard for me having left a year early. Buh, I guess worse comes to worse I can force multiple recipient emails upon my friends telling them of "craaaaaazeh" adventures in the hope of provoking a response. Who knows...I think too much...at least that's what I'm told.

Hey! How about those carpet bombings of Afghanistan? I know I have no moral objections! A world without a conscience, or just without a bleeding heart...I guess it depends how you look at it. Regardless, I retain my "official position" of "grimacing in horror". I won't accept what's going on, and while I don't expect anyone to share my sentiments, I'm pretty sure my official position has been firmly established. Cluster bombs dropped in areas where aid packages are also dropped? Perhaps that's where your "Negative Gross Domestic Product" came from (although I've been assured that a negative gross domestic product is a contradiction in terms) you arrogant pricks. No picture of a seven month old baby with anthrax scars will win me over either I'm afraid, because frankly, I've become too cynical from listening to all your self-righteous crap about your War Against Terror to see that repulsive picture as anything more than idle propaganda. Rumination of the Moment™:"Turn that depression into gleeful expression!" - Tristan (thank you Tris, I actually find myself repeating that to myself all the time these days).

31 October

Need you.

ruiner

Four panadol with a glass of scotch and an ice water chaser, this has been one bizarre evening. Despite the fact that I almost passed out in the shower 30 minutes ago, I seem to be coming increasingly disillusioned with not only Halloween, but also fireworks..."What has gone wrong?" you might ask. Well to be honest, I don't know, but I'm sure it has something to do with the move away from good fireworks in the "Big Shock Box™" as well as years of "Trick or Treat" repression which I suffered as a result of my family's moral objections...whatever the case, Halloween just didn't live up to my expectations tonight.

It wasn't so much the lame fireworks, the costumes with DEPRESSINGLY little effort put into them, or even the hordes of children roaming the streets with their parents that got to me tonight, it's something else. Something that I refuse to share with others because it exists between only myself and someone else, and as much as mentioning it here would probably just fuck things up more. Whatever the case, I hate the way people are so obsessed with concealing what they feel, what others feel...obsessed with concealing the truth. Why can't people be forward with each other, or rather, why are they deliberately "backward"? They know it hurts others, but they persist. Maybe they don't...but in this situation, nothing comes close to being clear cut, and it tears me (no, nothing so clear cut as straight spiritual lacerations) to feel this, to be subjected to it.

Burn.

Sometimes things become really too much for me, and tonight was one of those occasions. The moment I got home I anaethetised myself with a drug cocktail to send me to sleepville, and unfortunately, this came in the form of SEVERAL "passing outs" (or what I can only assume were occasions on which I passed out) tonight. I hadn't had a bad night, I really hadn't...I was only mildly frustrated by the looming presence of my brother. Aside from that, I got to fulfil a long-held desire in tackling (or being tackled by) Andrew, San Jay and Robert - fighting, to put it in other words. I don't know why this should be so satisfying, especially when inevitably you're doomed to be beaten to a pulp, but it really is. I don't know, its one of the only things I can do which make me feel "honest with myself". It's not that I have any huge desire to hurt these people (or anyone, for that matter), it's just a very powerful expression which I don't think I can begin to replicate in a diary: for this reason, I won't even try. Needless to say I got trashed, and the huge dose of painkillers seemed more than justified at the time (the alcohol was just THERE!)

Now, I have my marginally dangerous drug cocktail™, my shower, and pop on ICQ. This is where the aforementioned worry starts springing to mind. I take the car keys (god knows why), slam the door, and take a "brisk walk" around the block. I had no idea where I was going, but I had some preconception that I could clear my thoughts (does this happen in movies?) and I'd come home focused and happy. This did not happen. Quite the opposite, my mind initially began by pulsating with disgust for everything I saw around me...this is not unusual...but instead of "cooling off", everything was so much more intense, my mind sprinted ahead of my footsteps, and I almost stopped to throw up from the fear-induced sickness I felt.

Halloween is not a scary time. I don't care how many times you try and convince me, it just isn't. But tonight was very much scary. Since our very humid day, the wind has picked up ten-fold, and everything around me was suddenly hostile. Almost subliminally my eyes were sweating with tears. I use this expression because I had no reason at all to be crying, but I guess I was. Whatever the case, it was made all the worse by the feeling of total dread I felt...I don't usually get this in my own neighbourhood. Totally fucking bizarre.

Here I shall end this story. Needless to say, the car keys came handy in making my seamless entry back into the house, and I am very much alive and well (I don't feel sick OR drunk, but my crushed body feels much better) and throwing myself at the computer has provided little to no fulfilment. Alas, I'm in no state for this, but I will however leave you with a somewhat pessimistic Rumination of the Moment™: "Life is a long-agonised illness only curable by death." I borrow that one from our friend Spike Milligan, and while it's not really a reflection of my normal mood, I little bit of angst is probably tolerable to you, dear diary.

This entry was brought to you by A Warm Place by nine inch nails. I love this song.