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yanigoestojapan

Wed, 07 Jan 2009 08:59:23 GMT

About three weeks ago i went to Japan, I`m currently sitting in the airport departure lounge about to go home
It was the start of winter here, what with it being the Northern hemisphere and all, so it was a bit... nippy.
Thus ends my travel blog

Yanigoestojapan

Sat, 27 Dec 2008 12:28:00 GMT

about a week and a half ago I went to Japan, I`m still there
stay tuned for updates

a shot in the art

Sat, 09 Aug 2008 19:03:43 GMT

I'm a massive wanker and I don't just mean that literally
I was tooling around the art gallery this afternoon, which I thoroughly enjoyed and have been meaning to do so for a while. But the strangely interesting thing was how much my brain was keyed in to thinking about art directly after I left the gallery, such that I was viewing the world differently, Suddenly everything was an aesthetic or a statement.
The juxtaposition of a shiny drainpipe against the drab beige concrete outside the train station became a division of negative space. The signage peeking over another building to display happily to the world that here, is a car park, was a ploy on the differed perceptions of consumerism.

As I passed through Forrest Chase my art suppository was obviously wearing off, but I was still coming down off the high so I turned my attention to the people around me.
The guy jauntily rustling by me wearing enough synthetic fabrics to justify another war for oil as he innocuously practiced his gangster hand symbols within the confines of his oversized sleeves seemed to be a perversion of Descartes "I'm street therefore I am" and, as such, was oblivious to the fact that he looked like a complete tool.
The brash, chubby girl shouting her end of a vapid conversation into a mobile phone, wearing one of those atrocious sack-like t-shirts emblazoned with the text "thank god I'm a VIP" was not just grabbing attention but was a Patrick Bateman-esque attempt at becoming someone who could fit in with what she thought the world should be.
Behind me on the escalator, the ugly, diminutive girl bumbling her way through her limited conversational French delivered with a thick Australian accent to her evidently European friend was not only a cultural parody but an intensely human balance between self importance and the need for acceptance.

Trying to hold on to my high of pretention I began looking at more general, group behaviour.
Samuel Becket's short play Waiting for Godot was an excersie in the passing of time, mirrored beautifully in the few spectators gathered around the big TV broadcasting the Olympics.
Effeminate teenage boys always seemed to be flitting about the outside of a larger group, mimicking the interactions of the girls in an attempt to gain admittance.
Groups of three or more people linger wherever they've found themselves where as individuals must stay on the move to avoid predators. If a shark stops moving... it just stays still.
And lastly the shy, pretty girl walking along Hay street and constantly looking in her handbag for some unfound item, simply to give the impression of preoccupation and to avoid eye contact with the world at large.

By the time I passed William street I'd come down and was back to my usual trick of walking between groups of people coming the other way and trying to bump into people that look like they have somewhere to be. Try it, it's fun because for those few seconds when they don't know what the fuck you're doing and you do the little space invader dance to get past one another, for those few, fleeting seconds... you see exactly who that person isn't

Return from Northbridge, feeling very, Very straight

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 20:32:46 GMT

Alright, so my roommate and friend Kyle has some of his old friends over tonight and not surprisingly (considering Kyle) they're both female. They had decided to booze it up here over dinner and then head out to some gay clubs, I'm still uncertain as to their reasoning.
I was happy to leave Kyle to his catch up session, but one of said women decided to bring her boyfriend along and this seemingly changed the dynamic, according to Kyle, and I was suddenly invited.
One low cut top and very little coaxing later I was heading out with them.

In the beginning it seemed like any ordinary club, crap music played at outrageous volumes, an overabundance of metro-sexual men and the women weren't interested in me. Being no strangers to homosexual innuendo, Kyle and I fitted in well enough, flitting between dancefloor hearthrobs and outdoor antics until... Kyle made friends with some random high flying business type, who seemed more than happy to buy our entire group a round of drinks.

Suddenly very aware of the fact that we were in a gay club, I was surprised at how quickly my guard went up. My apprehension was probably not helped by the fact the Kyle now had no intention of keeping up the charade of us being a cute, inter-racial gay couple.

Talking to Sam's boyfriend, a Northbridge regular, I was assured that he was just that nice guy you occasionally find in pubs that's willing to buy a round of drinks for total strangers. And while he turned put to be correct on that front, I felt trapped as I was unable to cling to my faux gay partner or appear convincingly straight¹.
I'm not narcissistic enough to consider that he was overtly hitting on me, but the interaction of another man with no evidence to the contrary to suggest that I wasn't gay was, in a word, frightening.
With me in a considerable state of fear and inebriation (mostly inebriation) we vacated the club, bought kebabs, caught a taxi home and thoroughly pissed off our prudish neighbors.

Highlight of the night: holding hands with Kyle to go meet someone from my primary school at the club, Mitchell is a gay cop working in Perth for those who didn't believe the rumours

¹shut the FUCK up

Twin Snakes

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 17:07:16 GMT

Liquid Snake, a man allergic to shirts?
I think so

everything is very... dirty

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 15:37:54 GMT

Finally finished cleaning the place for a rent inspection.
Somewhat tired and weary, enjoying a beer in the dining room whist surveying a field of victory.
So George and I are trying to give odds on how long the place will stay clean for, very optimistically I say
"Two weeks, at the most"
With almost comic timing George loses control of the blood orange he's kicking around (???)
and it topples my half finished beer
"I'll revise that, two minutes"

Moral of the story:
Optimism will kill you, if not at least lead to spilled beer
right now I don't know which is worse

cloves

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 05:30:45 GMT

So I was driving, on one of those long boring trips where the only objective is the destination and anyone doing less than 115kph is an absolute menace and Sunday driving cunts like that shouldn't be allowed on the road. It's a warm day, I'm fairly comfortable in the car and the radio has more or less turned to background white noise so the only thing to keep me company is the seemingly endless kilometers of bitumen flying along beneath me. The inevitable happens and I start to feel tired and the fear of crashing just isn't enough to keep me awake, neither is the one and a half bottles of red bull I've consumed in the past half hour. The only other chemical stimulant I have with me is my packet of cigarettes, so I light one and open the window a little so as to use the Bernulli principal to vent the smoke. Tobacco has a very astringent effect on the mouth, so I need to have a drink, the only drink being the remaining half bottle of red bull I mentioned earlier. So having a swig of red bull, mid cigarette I notice an odd taste. Inhale, swig, same taste. I lick my lips to see if the taste combination is related to the smoke or to my failing mental state, but no, it's the smoke.
Combining red bull and cigarettes tastes mildly of cloves, something I haven't tasted since those Gudang Garang clove cigarettes from Indonesia.

Warning may contain aweome

Sun, 05 Aug 2007 10:53:17 GMT

On the 4Tst of month the Hello Kitty Toaster fatefully passed away after months of ineffective toasting. We had refused to ~~buy a new toaster~~ believe that our dear friend of many toasts would ever leave this world. Sadly with only one, marginally, operational toasting slot it was time for our dear friend to be relegated to the top left corner of my wardrobe.

Born of the unholy union between Cthulhu and a Breville sandwich maker, the demon spawn toaster was rightly heralded by many ancient civilizations as a terrible bringer of doom and suffering. Often breaking rank during battle to destroy countless battalions single handedly, simply to feed off the life energy it so greedily coveted. Seemingly surrounded by an aura of fear and terror, the Hello Kitty Toaster was by all means untouchable, until it short-circuited on a piece of sultana from a raisin muffin whilst sacking Rome.

The gathered souls of previous conquests allowed the Hello Kitty Toaster to claw it's way back from the abyssal Tartarus, the brief sojourn to hell had severely altered its will to dominate and enslave. Wishing to right the evils comitted in its previous life, the Hello Kitty Toaster pledged to devote this incarnation to the servitude of justice.
This decision led many to believe it was a bit gay.

Crustum Anatomie

The frontal photograph displays many attributes

The happy pink logos help you remember your lord and master
The browning knob (snigger) allows you control the number of browns
There is a row of buttons, they have text, some have lights
If you squint really hard and then look at the underside of a cat they kind of look like nipples

New Zealanders take note: that says "breads" that's called a plural

proppa 'nunciation and gramma yo

Ready to pounce, like they do

the Hello Kitty Toater, reclining in its natural habitat

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 01:55:28 GMT

I'm confused, where's all the rampant "friend-whoring" and incessant advertising on this site? How will I know I'm loved if I'm not contacted by random strangers who were obviously impressed enough by my profile page to become my friend? How will I know what to like and what to listen to if no one's going to tell me?

"I just want to fit in"
Patrick Bateman

But still I'm not entirely certain I understand this amazing blogging concept. When do the naked women fall from my ceiling?

First post

Wed, 01 Aug 2007 13:23:14 GMT

Wow, a web log. I'll come clean with you, I actually started out on myspace DON'T JUDGE ME and I thought I'd make the switch to livejournal. This blog's going to be different though I'm going to keep this updated everyday, well, every two days... bi-weekly at least. And it's going to be great, I'll post some pseudo photo manipulation and some scanned drawings that I made in the sketch pad I carry around everywhere so that everyone knows how creative I am. Of course, the more creative posts will have to take a backseat to the massive emotional revelations and changes in my life, which I'll describe to you in narcissistic amounts of detail.

And of course, sometimes things at home will start to get so crazy that I won't be able to update the blog. But this will just provide more subject matter for me to blog about, though I might just do something original and simply tell you that things are really crazy and as such I'm unable to update.

Then will come the massive change of me getting a job and so I won't have the sheer amounts of boredom necessary to blog constantly. So to avoid the faux pas of continually not updating, I'll pre-emptively tell "all" my readers that updates won't be as regular.