I hope you die. I hope we both die.

This song says far too many things I am feeling right now.



I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come up with a failsafe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town
Again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
Yeah I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die

Drunk

I am. I am so drunk. It is almost 5pm on Sunday afternoon. I have had the last week off work - I had surgery on my boob on Monday, and I thought I'd be all in pain. But actually, I felt nothing, all week. And when I say I felt nothing I mean, my brain felt nothing. My boob hurt a little from time to time but I just don't want to wake up anymore because I feel nothing - or too much.
I'm drinking this pretty bottle of red wine called Vampire, and that's the only reason I bought it.
I'm listening to the Mountain Goats and sitting in my room, which I moved around because I thought that might make me feel better. While I was moving it I temporarily forgot about how shit I feel, but now it's right back to normal. Only difference is now I can see the sky.
I feel so fucking terrible.
You know those moments where you just go "my life is going nowhere"?
And how you get really pissed at people who say that, because they could change it if they want to?
Well shut the fuck up.
I'm drunk.
Is it so much to ask to just get nailed like, once in a while?

Womb With A View

My boyfriend has been doing something lately that has been pissing me right off. So of course, I write a blog post about it, one which he will most likely never read, therefore avoiding any possible confrontation as I do best.
There are two things that he has been trying to CHANGE in me. I know you're all going "oh that's not cool, run girlfriend!" and yeah, I know it's insane, but I thought he was joking. I can't tell if he's joking anymore.

The first thing is that he's trying to make me eat bananas. I haven't eaten a banana since I was 5 years old, I remember the very last time. There was a boy in pre-school who had it in for me, and kept a banana in his lunchbox, the same banana, for an entire week, until it was brown and disgusting. Then one day he smooshed it all over my face. To make a sob story short, the smell of bananas makes me gag. I can tell if there's a piece of fruit that's been sitting NEXT to a banana. I can tell if groceries have been in the same bag as a banana. I can smell it on his breath when he's eaten bananas. I fucking loathe bananas.
But my boyfriend can't seem to understand this. "They're so good for you! They taste great! It's just a banana! Come on! If you just eat enough, you'll end up liking it."
No. I won't. I don't like bananas. They make me sick.
He's been trying really subtle sneaky shit, like buying banana bread, and telling me it's just some fancy cake. Of course, I can smell it before it's even in my mouth, so this never works.
But I just can't get why he would want me to eat bananas so badly. How is it impacting on him? PLEASE DEAR GOD, I DON'T WANT TO EAT ANY OF YOUR FREAKIN BANANAS.

Now that I've gone over that paragraph, it reads back to me like;
"Dear Agony Aunt. This friend of mine, well she um, her boyfriend keeps trying to pressure her to have butt sex. But she doesn't want butt sex. And well um, I just, I mean, my friend just wanted to know how to make him stop without actually giving in to the butt sex."
I promise you, it's not that. I love butt sex.

The other thing that pisses me off more than anything else in the entire world, is his insistence that I will someday have his children. Normally, I think this would make most girls go "awww that is so sweet, he's so committed to you!"
But he only wants me to have his children because he wants to, in his words "carry on his bloodline". Because you're just a sad nobody unless you have children to carry on your surname for years and years to come. No one will remember you unless they have your genetic spawn in their face reminding them about That Guy Who Used To Be Alive.
Not that doing anything with YOUR OWN LIFE would count towards people remembering you. Nope, all the many things, journeys, friends, deeds and creations you make throughout your life count for SHIT, who's going to remember that if you don't have any babies? I for one wouldn't know who the hell Kurt Cobain was if it wasn't for Frances-Bean being in the ladymags every day.

I'm not condemning anyone who does want to have babies, of course I've thought about having babies. Personally I've decided against having any of my own, for two reasons. One, I have a low pain threshold and I don't want to put my body through that shit when I can Two, adopt an already-alive child who doesn't have anyone to love them. I'm looking forward to being mature and established enough to be able to foster kids and work my way through an adoption process, which is daunting (and a very long way away in fantasy land). I don't know if my motives are fucked up but I don't want to do it so that I can have a brood of children to push my last name on and live on in my image. I want to give a home to someone who doesn't have one - and by home I mean someone who cares about them. I guess I just want to help the less fortunate more than I want to be a Mummy.

Of course, my boyfriend likes to counter this by telling me that sooner or later I'll get all clucky and change my mind, because my opinion on children is entirely at the whim of my hormones and you know those uterii, they'll make you CRAZY. And then I can carry on the bloodline just like he wants me to.

Colour me ambitious but I like to think that my life isn't entirely defined by my ability to produce spawn from my womb. Just like every other woman on the planet.

Free Stuff

Yay, vouchers and discounts and sales and FREE STUFF!

My company, Blueprint Technologies, is having a little promo for our online shop, linked with Prime Nightclub which just went off last weekend. All you have to do is sign up as a member of our online shop and you go in the draw to win a $50 voucher to spend there. Visit here for details.

Chemist Warehouse are doing a thing where if you become a member of THEIR online shop you get a $5 voucher to spend on any online purchase $25 or over. This is totally handy for me cause they are also super cheap so I can get my insanely expensive birth control from there. Check it out.

Coles Express have heaps of special offers at the moment, for fuel and food that you can find here but the one I'm trying tonight is free pies with a printed out voucher. It's not on the Special Offers section anymore, but it says the offer expires on July 19th so hopefully it'll still work. Voucher here.

Digital photo printing company Snapfish are doing a deal where you can get 50 prints for 1c each. Just go through the process and when you get to the checkout enter the coupon code 1CENTHPAU9. There's also a special offer for new members on the front page of their website.

Get a free movie pass from Hoyts cinemas for your birthday, all you have to do is join the Hoyts Club then wait till your birthday.

And finally, I haven't checked this one out yet but will when I get home, free downloads of a program called Anime Studio 5. Sounds kickass.

Stop using 'Rape' as a catch all verb

The word Rape means Rape. It does not mean "anything bad that happened to me".
Exams and assignments aren't capable of actually raping you. Inanimate objects and abstract ideas are not capable of raping you. One football team is capable of raping another football team, but saying that does not accurately describe what you meant to say, which is that one team won against the other in a game. A GAME. FOR FUN.

From 'Rape is Not Only Hilarious; It's No Big Deal';

Rape is a big deal, and the very least we can do for those who have suffered its excruciating indignity is talk about it with the honesty and gravity it deserves.

Once Again: Rape Is Not Your Personal Metaphor

Rape Culture: Still Not Funny

Passive Aggression: Foregrounding The Object

The Sunset Tree

I was reminded today of one of my favourite albums of all time - The Sunset Tree by The Mountain Goats.


I'm pretty sure everybody has that one album, or if you don't like to narrow it down, that one band that got them through a hard time. I have a lot of music that's attached to different memories, and while The Smiths, Jeff Buckley and The Cure each got me through various hard times, and during the most recent Hard Time, this one album pulled me through. I appreciate every single lyric, the way the album flows, every song is perfect in its place.

I'm quite sure everybody knows The Mountain Goats from the time that Triple J relentlessly played one single - This Year - which is certainly a bit of an anthem for the down-and-out.
"I am gonna make it through this year if it kills me".
I lived by that chorus for a long time. I'm going to sound cliche now and say that the album is really best listened to complete and in place and bla bla bla it's a journey, wank over.

Here's one of my favourite songs on the album although it's insanely hard to choose just one, this one is called Dilaudid.



Late last year I had the immense pleasure of seeing The Mountain Goats play at the Zoo and it was pretty moving. The lead singer John Darnielle played the first half of the set acoustic on his own, and unfortunately in the second half told us he had the flu and stepped down to let the bassist sing. But that didn't matter because the second half was rockin and the crowd was singing along loud enough that it eclipsed his voice - you could really tell from the very last song they played - No Children - that this band means a lot to a lot of people.


Check out this photoset I took from the night, and lastly I hope you get a little bit of joy from No Children too. Get rowdy!

In Your Head

I wish you would, could listen to me. I wish we could have a double-sided discussion, an open conversation, a talk where we were both contributing, and both listening.
I know that you 'aren't capable'. It's part of your Asperger's, you have no empathy, there is no reciprocity, you really just aren't interested in anything I have to say, and that doesn't mean anything to you. I listen to everything you tell me, all the things that mean nothing to me, all the things I'm not interested in, I ask you questions, I let you tell me, I let you know I've HEARD you. Because I know that's all I want. That's all anyone wants, when they share something. To be heard.
And to tell the truth, I love listening to you talk, even about all the things that go way over my head. I am interested in the things you talk about, because I want to have something to talk about with you. I love seeing your eyes light up while you're explaining something and watching things tick over in your head, and more than anything else in the world I love it when you laugh.

But I try to tell you about things I'm interested in and you go blank. You look away, you don't acknowledge me, you don't reply. Sometimes you don't even answer, or you answer back with something unrelated, and I know you weren't listening. It's why when I'm upset I shut my mouth and just cry, no matter how many times you ask what's wrong, I feel physically unable to speak. Because what's the use in saying anything if no one is listening?

I know it's not your fault. For the most part I don't think about it, this huge part of you, the reason you are the way you are. I used to think about it all the time and it hurt me so much because I couldn't understand why you couldn't just be NORMAL. I tried for so long to figure out what you were thinking, or how I could fix things, or why you thought that way, how I could make you understand me. But then I realised you are normal. You are you. Nothing's going to change, because you are you and that's that.
For the most part I try take you as you are, day by day, and I love you because I think you are perfect. I think how lucky I am that you come to me, and I'm the one you share things with.
But sometimes you say something, or you say nothing at all, and it stops me in my tracks that I can feel so alone while with you. I hate those moments when I'm reminded that we are so far apart from each other, alone together.

I wish I could be inside your head and I wish you could know me.

Distortion

I didn't believe him when he told me, but then I'd always been skeptical of the things Paul came out with. Like the time he called me excited in the middle of the night, assuring me we could get high by mixing enough nutmeg into boiling water. We both threw up for hours and felt nothing.
There was the time he showed up at my house with a packet of Homebrand poppy seeds intent on brewing his own opium tea. Seeds got stuck in our teeth, and we felt nothing.
Paul was a big-time stoner, regularly spending entire days from morning till night stoned, going to school stoned, going to sleep stoned. It was his normal state of being. Regardless, he was always looking for other things to smoke, eat, lick, sniff, ingest, always trying to get higher.
I think it haunted him, that the outcome of all his adventures into mind-altering substances produced exactly what he was running from. He felt nothing.

Paul had started dabbling in music and had picked up a guitar like all adolescents do at some point. He stuck with it and became surprisingly proficient. I think it was the first time he'd ever succeeded at something. He started hanging with the music kids at school, and he'd brag to me when he saw me that they had the Best Weed.
But I knew Paul better than that, and I knew he was still looking.

For a while we didn't speak, I immersed in my study, and Paul, I imagined, immersed in his music. Then he came to my house again in the middle of the night, as was his style. He rapped on my window, holding his guitar in one hand, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. He looked different. He sounded different. There was some new quality to him that I couldn't quite identify, something I'd never encountered before but something that wasn't entirely human. Perhaps that is too foreboding a thing to say, but I'd never seen anyone look and talk the way Paul did. At first glance he looked as normal as ever, but if I stared too long I felt that the lines of his face, the angles of his body, the surface of his skin had deviated.
When he spoke, his voice reminded me of television static, crossed telephone lines, radio feedback, garbled and metallic and crowded.
In this new tin static voice he told me he'd found it, the thing he was looking for, the rush. He wanted to show me.
He pulled a miniature amp from his backpack, and cables and plugged them all into his guitar. His eyes flickered strangely as he moved about the room. Pushing me onto the bed, he told me to relax and listen. The strings hummed, and he began to play the guitar softly. I felt nothing. I looked up at him impatiently. Did he mean for me to fawn over his playing skills?
He saw my impatience and emitted a crackled laugh. He moved to his backpack and brought out a pedal, and plugged another lead in. The other end of the lead, he placed in my hand, and as he closed my palm around it I felt a soft vibration from his skin. His whole body seemed to hum to me.
He winked at me in a second that felt like several fragmented moments, then jammed his foot down on the pedal.

Buckling Warped Bent Collapsing in on me Contorting around me. Disfiguring Crushing Changing Whipping Shaping Screaming Curving Bloating Laughing laughing laughing laughing laughing

I felt distortion.