July 29, 2003  
Don't you think that really all food looks like something vile?
I don't know, maybe its just beef with peanut topping, it seriously looks like a fresh dump someone has taken right on my Mum's white & blue goose plate. The steams still coming off it! I *know* its just because its been cooked, but for a moment it really did look like the steam was a result of intrathermal body heating. Eww. I have way too much time on my hands don't I? Or is it just dirt under my fingernails?

I've decided that I don't understand poetry, and I never will be able to understand other people's poetry because it came from their head, and knowing me I'd interpret it the wrong way. So why the hell am I doing Literature this year? It doesn't make sense.

I also just realised how goddamn cool some people at my school are. We're 3 weeks into rehearsing "the wiz" and I'm having a ball. (Although I know what its like with school plays, last few weeks of it I'll want to mercilessly slaughter everyone involved) Drama boys (or the politically incorrect "drama fags" are the greatest thing since sliced bread.
*sigh*
July 26, 2003  
sitting here at the computer. 11:51 pm the blinding screen tells me. Late for a school night but goddam early for a 16 year old's Saturday night. My heart races as the cosmic goddoness terektifies me consistantly. Like a lame 'punk rawk' band with their 3 chord songs, playing on repeat on an '56 sony vinyl player. wRITERS BLOCK. think of something to write. something creative, intuitive, witty. smart. but i can't, because thats just not me. i don't have the natural knack to be able to get published in that pink magazine. or youth poetry. this isn't poetry. its random words, occasionally making sense. very rarely.

i finished work at 9 tonight, then went to a park party, consumed some illegal substances... came home. now me and my sister are probably gonna check out this park party up the road.
July 21, 2003  
Hmph. What a waste of a weekend. 15 hours of work.
July 16, 2003  
I still haven't done the necessary crapping on about seeing John Butler Trio. I don't think I can really be stuffed crapping on too much, but it really reminded me of my tree-hugging bare-footed political-activist stoner cousin. Alot of JBT's songs are based on nature, and politicalness.
When introducing one song "Bad Boy" (try to locate it, its good quality, or even better, "Better Man") he talked about his friend who became off the rails with drugs and lied to get money for drugs etc. Then he went on to say "But he was off them for a while, but on them for new years, but y'know, its not so bad, a little indulgence once in a while is alright" to which everyone chuckled. That sorta pissed me off, as I'm not on anything. Just alcahol and cigarettes for me.
Ah well, besides that little confusion it was a great night.

I had a funny experience with a hobo too. He tried to steal food from the 7-11 I was at, and when the storeowner confronted him about stealing food, the bloody bastard put me on the spot and said "oh, I did, thats my sister!' I got shitscared and just left giving the storeowner a look saying "No way in hell!"

Ah Guttermouth rock.
July 14, 2003  
Blogger is taking ages to load, so I'm doing it the old fashioned way... Old fashioned as in not prehistoric, like WRITING it out. No, I'm typing it out on my Microsoft Notepad, Version 5.1.

I can't believe they got upto version 5.1, I'm sure there hasn't been that many drastic changes over the development of the program. I mean, seirously, its a freaking blank screen, no fonts or anything.
Ok, enough geeky rant for now.
Wait, one more,
I just realised that no-one can comment on my guestbook for the blog, because the account has been inactive for ages, so has become invalid as an account. I'm getting sick of getstring, they keep asking for money. Bloody whingers. I want money too, but I don't ask for it by simply writing a simple guestbook for free use! Sheesh. If they want money, make it compulsary, don't just complain about it.

Ok, NOW its enough computer geek whinging.

Ow, my hand hurts. I'm currently listening to Rufio - Above me. But lately I've been into a few more styles of music. Namely, new-school swing revival, reggae, funk, and emo. They are all great!
I was woken up at 3 pm the other day on holidays by a lady from Channel [V], and just before I cracked the shitties at her telling her not to call me and wake me up at such a ghastly hour (Like all holidays, I become nocturnal, and get aggravated at anyone who tries to interrupt my daily 8-hour sleep). ANYWAY, back to the point, before I yelled at her, she told me that I had won tickets to the John Butler Trio show.
I was a wee bit annoyed cuz my friend chucked a huge party that same night, but I found out later the reason she had it was to get drunk with her friends to get her mind off the fact that she had missed out on SOLD OUT tickets to a fabulous musician.

Today was the first day back at school, exams aren't too far away. *bites nails*
July 11, 2003  
random prose i've writtten in the last hour or so. I'm not really this negative, it just comes out that way. You probably won't understand it, cuz I wrote it. And I'm not even sure I understand it.



Rechargable battery of emotion and tears. Just lie on a handsome strangers bed. Sleep. No matter how long I’ve known them, they will always be a stranger. But I’m a stranger to myself, so what does it matter if there’s one more in my life. I’d like to convince myself that this is the real thing. The real thing, the big four letter word at such a young age. Sixteen years, seven months and ten days of Australian suburbia in a middle class region, I thought I found it once before. Looking, forever searching. Its not under the decaying couch or at the hi-tech trendy mall. Where is it? I’d say I lost it, but I never had it in the first place. Will I ever?




Time won’t make things better.
They say it’s the greatest healer. Who says? They say. The unknown people who seem to know everything. My faeces excremented on the walls of prejudice that seems to be narrowing in on the claustrophobic Russian spy from a bad james bond film. Obsession with brands, whats hip, whats not, advertising, aristocracy, fashion, fascism, media, mediocrity. A young teenage girl can be beautiful in her mind, but to others it only matters how fat she is, and what brands she wears. Why cant’ she see? Oh why can’t she see beyond this world, before its too late.

July 05, 2003  
Sitting at my Dad's work. I've been here for a few hours. Wow, I didn't know that blogger changed its setting out, or maybe its just for Macs. I don'tget Macs. How can you not have another mouse button? Its essential!
I found a new cool site at gleebs.com/schwing/
it looks mad as and the chick who writes it is funny as.

Well what did I do last night? I got trashed as.... and stayed right near the lake. It was great, except for the part where I incessantly hit on my ex boyfriend just wanting to kiss him. But then I found another boy who I really like,w hich was all fine... till my friend pulled off the blanket to reveal partial nudity. For gods sake, we went upstairs into a private little room, and he still feels the need to humiliate me. *sigh* what a bastard.

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