Wednesday, December 3, 2008

Naivety is Looked Upon

You read it and you heard it; you listened and by opening it, you acknowledged it, this is much like society when society looks upon naivety by enforcing it; now dance for me puppets, dance.

Censoring is a way of life, but censoring the under age is only putting generations at a disadvantage and sugar-coating the world of drugs and violence into a world that never has existed, and being realistic over optimistic, probably never will. Some parents create children that go from classroom to desk, breakfast to a car that by-passes reality to a selective school where the worst bullying that goes on is in a comparison of Math marks; sure, positively these kids will earn so much more than me in twenty years time, but once they hit eighteen, a hobby-less virgin, you are fucked now, kiddo! With no social skills in this world, you don't function, you don't say thank you asshole for this delicious Subway roll, you do not say to the hot girl on the table in front of you do you wanna catch a movie or somethin' (where we may make out, and I will waste a year of my life with you getting a life because I won't be wasting it at all), but this won't happen, you will go home, do the only thing your society-crazed-communists you called parents taught you how, and that is to study and advance further on a one-set journey where you will get a great job, be happy, meet someone exactly like you, you guys will hold hands in five years then screw in ten, and she'll pop them out immediately, and here is the fun part, he, now the Marx of learning nothing of the classroom he calls Earth of the Universe and everything of what he called the University of Sydney, and he carries his father, Mike Brady's, teachings right over to his son to begin this cycle over again.

Those African children on the commercial breaks that stare at the camera with those eyes guilting you out for cash may not have food, but they have knowledge; never will they have to worry about the percentage on an exam or there internet connection failing them, they know what it feels like to have there face in the earth's dirt, and they know where it is that dirt came from; the kids these days are raised to walk the paths and avoid the dirt that the black dude handed to us from the earth we don't know, for money that the parents who hid us from the earth pretty much gave us. The minute the world ceases to air shows that say fuck twice, shit three times and show a corner of a female nipple in the closing sequence right before Johnny gets his bed sheets coated in thick maroon after 9:30 in the evening and begin showing violence and foul language only minutes after Big Bird analyses the letter E for twenty minutes, will be a day that naivety is no longer sponsored by society. There was a time where TV aired what they wanted - when, but we have societrical terms now, such as, Prime time, Daytime, etc. that are the very enforcement that have made them listen, pigeon-hole and be backed up against a wall called the tool to carrying naivety onto our peers, this is why we look upon naivety, that's why society works, why we work for society, because that's all we are, we are vessels.

vessel a container of feelings, of liquid, a cup of coffee;
we are a not a cup, though, but an overflowing saucepan of disease, feeling, atmosphere and society's rules. If we weren't a vessel, a flu would not be something to blow your nose of, it would be something to call the ambulance for. We are simple carriers; ships steaming through a sea of rules and feelings that we follow and reflect on, the world will paradoxically implode without a society, but there are some black-lines and the sugar coating of the vast variety of lifestyles and their actions in our countries are something to be shared, not hidden, thus, the reason why naivety's stupid foundations should crumble along with the silly families who condone it.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

Hating What I Love

They’re the ones you hate, yet the ones you love behind the white doors that separate your peaceful sanctuary from the rest of your angry world. It’s that face you forget, but the sight of it that discloses that lingering trickle of emotional release of what we fear to call crying.

Are you sure you want to delete your account? Are you sure you want to cut our cord?
Our only connection, no matter how petty, erased in only a matter of seconds. There hand, the murderer; there browser, the tool; and anything left of us, the corpse lying between our stance.

Every time my love has gone unnoticed; my presence simply unappreciated has lead me to this, the epiphany of the week, the revelation of my loving strength of hate for them.

Although, the question still remains;
why do I go on feeling what I feel, after they have only left my heart so broken?

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Global Warming

Pictures like that are quite striking to the eye (and heart), but we need to face reality, the damage has been done. We can only delay the peak of Global Warming, not prevent it. You will never be able to tell Ford to cease manufacturing vehicles and you'll never be able to tell a low-income family to purchase a hybrid one.

It's like smoking really; we can display advertisements where we know smokers will see them in the hope to stop them from lighting up, but I have never heard of it giving that reaction. We put these things here, and we better
soon start believing that those things are here to stay, because what we can too little.

People can continue to publicise Global Warming's presence in our day-to-day lives, by opening up Green Parties within government, holding Live Earth concerts, music bands opening up the Music For Relief cause, and politicians continuing their false cries to a healthier global temperature, and majority of those should be honored for trying, but they can only do what they have the ability to, and that's why I simply am not too concerned with it. Our world will continue to be indifferent and differential on these views (as demonstrated in Australian news today here
), and maybe once in my lifetime I will own a hybrid car, I might buy a house built and furnished with environmentally-friendly materials, I may move to a country powered by nuclear energy, but l could never care, nor devote myself enough to make dramatic changes to my life in the name of a losing battle like Global Warming.
That's my two cents, anyway.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

You Will Never Know

I live life to stare into your eyes; to randomly give you those hugs I give you; to give you piggy-back rides that make you laugh; to call you 'til we're too tired to even speak sense.

I love that little pony tail you have when you work; the way you scream when you are absolutely stoked; the way you worry about everything; how you are better than most.

I wake up in the morning happy knowing that I will be seeing you soon; ecstatic to be visiting you at work; hoping to bump into you somewhere; to see if my phone blinks blue with a message waiting from you.

I listen to your voice because you have something worth saying; to songs you tell me to download; to songs that put what I feel for you into rhyme; to just relax.

I go to work hoping you come in for free chocolate; to work an entire shift just to watch the windows for your beautiful face; to sleep at night just waiting for one more message.

I like you for the person you are;
I love you for the gold you hold in your heart.

Friday, September 19, 2008


Late last night I found myself receiving luck from all angles; yet this afternoon I left the hospital with only my mother.

Hospitals are a generally depressing place, drab choice of paint colors and a scent of anaesthesia and death, but how about the death of feelings, the final gasp of misconception? From the point of admission to the time of discharge, you finally know who just cannot give a fuck about you any more.

The worst feeling was probably walking out half drugged expecting my mum to be speaking to my best friend that only lived moments from the hospital and the girl of my dreams to have now come and gone due to her exam at one, but she was alone and had been since I left, and slowly but surely, my successful day surgery had just transformed into the evident death that comes with anything of this nature.

In these situations, you don't deal with death well, what I thought at eight o'clock walking through those doors was not what had happened walking out of them. I told them not to fuss, that the surgery was going to be nothing but they insisted on coming, but without the warning I deserved I had to find out the hard way that they, indeed, did not make the fuss.

Been home since two, laying here sipping a chocolate protein shake, trying to keep my tears from falling into it, next to a full packet of Mi Goreng noodles that had been promised to be waiting here for you when you said you'd be here with me because I needed you, but the noodles are lonely...but it isn't a surprise because so am I.

I don't know what changed with you guys in the chunk anaesthetic stole from the life of Ryan somewhere between eleven o'clock this morning through to one o'clock this afternoon, but what I do know is it's left me in bed alone for six hours with nothing but this phone you broke the news to me with and you out having fun, only a one dollar fifty bus ride away...but you guys will never spare that loose change because something died in that theatre today, and it certainly wasn't me.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I Won’t Go Down In History, But I Will Go Down On Your Sister.

The reasons I watch Californication:

Oh, and this next one is just for Harb.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Robbed of Principle

When people see me, I like to think that they see me as someone that tells it like it is, pretty much the type of person that wouldn't do this.

So, let me explain first, for most of this year one of our very trusted Max Brenner supervising employees, Joan, had been pocketing large sums of cash from our Parramatta store, everybody that wasn't apart of the managerial staff were aware of it and some all of us even played an unintentional part in it. Now, I never had a part in it, but when you stop think about it, yes I did. At the store there are about thirty employees, including myself, translation, at the store, there are about thirty employees that spent nine months of this year with their mouths closed.

Now that you know the story, there is one big question I have to ask myself, did I totally misconceive my ability to use my mouth? While sitting with Mum for hours on end bitching about the bunch of cowards I work with that had assisted, which, in the initial process, are the ones that handed the money to Jo as business hours commenced every night and, more importantly, had no intention of ending the cash flow funding her new digital camera or her trip to L.A. a few months back, I became one of those cowards I was bitching about. Coward isn't all I was, we were all sheep, strung from Jo's fingers, all made to look like fools, a place I always promised myself I would never get to. For the last nine months, I worked so that Jo could pay her PDA's phone bill, and all because I consistently kept my mouth shut, all that I had to say was three words, each no more than two syllables, they were 'Jo is stealing', but not even one of those words left my or anyone else's lips for that matter, and that's why the Parramatta store of Max Brenner is no longer the functioning team it was this time last year, now we're nothing more than a bunch of idiots.

Last week she got caught. Now, I am not too clear on the details, like how she was caught out and how the company is dealing with it legally, all I know is that she obviously will not be working with us any longer. So, when Almog, our area manager, comes down from head office and personally asks me 'Why was nothing said for so long?' What is it that I am meant to say, that I wasn't the person I thought I was, that I am just as bad as everyone else that wore the logo while this robbery was happening, that I had my eyes stretched open but my mouth sewn shut, because up until now, I wasn't that person that just stood by and watched events go down, so how come I let this happen for so long? Maybe I am that person and just never knew it.

You see, I never helped Joan steal the company's money, but I certainly had a hand in it, and that makes me just as much a criminal as she is; that goes for the rest of us that remained silent. So, finally, a special thank you to Joan and the voiceless staff of Max Brenner, especially the ones that continue to hide in the shadows to this day; believe me when I say that nothing will please me more than leaving this fucking job as next year progresses.

Friday, August 22, 2008

Someone Has A Brain

I walked into a petrol station bathroom today and realised that this world is not as doomed as I had originally thought it to be. This realisation was sparked when I spotted the several yellow syringe disposal units attached to the white, glazed wall of the seedy facility, it's the symbol that someone in this world is actually thinking for once and it tells us that there is a select group in the land of six billion minds that will prolong the well-being for humans everywhere. I agree, I'm a hater of drugs and they should be abolished, but let's get real and cut the shit, drugs are a flame that will never die and the more humans that use them, the more sticks that are thrown into the ever-growing flame. When fire fighters are battling a flame, there one and only objective is not to put out the fire, but to contain it and that is obviously how these thinkers are battling this flame. But please, do not miss the analogy of the flame, to clarify, it is not the drugs, it is Aids. The units on those walls are not to stop the stoners around the globe, nor encourage them, but to separate disease from the individuals that are not purposely putting themselves at this potential risk. It's to encourage drug abusers and users (diabetes, etc.) to allow their problem to remain their problem. Month by month, I read the stories of someone getting pinched by needles because an infant got curious around the play equipment or someone wanted to have a short walk along the beach as they get splashed across the scroll on my internet browser; that's an innocent life ruined, perhaps even one that might not have been properly lived yet. Aids can be the leader to a hard life or even the provocative for an ended one but the idea and creation of a small, plastic box can reduce statistical figures that endanger the health of others.
Now, that's a realistic solution.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Roseanne, I hate you but you raise a great point.

jon voight
is a frightened little girl in a pink ballet tutu, who acts like Obama just wandered in from the rain forest with a bone thru his nose and a communist pamphlet in his loincloth. The neocons who own jon voight and make him dance on the chabad telethons are the worst most elitist people on earth. glen beck and jon voight are their bitches... both of them are used tampons who must be flushed down the toilet immediately! jon voight your evil spawn angelina jolie and her vacuous hubby brad pitt make about forty million dollars a year in violent psychopathic movies and give away three of it to starving children trying to look as if they give a crap about humanity as they spit out more dunces that will consume more than their fair share and wreck the earth even more. (just sayin').
Also miss jolie says she likes mccain too and hasn't decided who to endorse....huh? Aren't you supposed to be somewhat enlightened, or do you not know that the african daughter you hold in every picture had parents who suffered and died because of the republican party's worldwide economic assault on africa over the last few decades since reagan? whaaaa...??????!!!! (for that matter, the thai and cambodian sons you are photo'd with weekly too who's pictures you sell to raise money to help the poor? Their families are victims of America's right wing military incursions too. Mccain wants to continue with the idea of war for profit...the americans are over that thinking now! They have drugged our troops and lower classes into supporting their oil business atrocities for long enough. We want to save not lose our souls thank you. Now go back to making your movies about women who love to handle big guns that shoot hundreds of people to death. might be good for your asian and african children's self esteem to know you support a brown man for the leader of the free world.)

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

You’ll Hate Me For This

Let's cut the shit; let me tell you something about me.
In the result of our world being taken hostage by the terrifying point of a digital paint brush and the figures that categorise our waist, penis and breast size, I have self esteem issues like us all, although secretly deep beneath the trenches of my boyish façade, I love myself more than you will ever discover. Be prepared to see what I see when I'm staring into my own reflection.

Let's begin with appearance; I am slim and I would consider myself a good looking guy no matter what anyone says (with the exception of these fucking teeth). I'll prove it to you, put a mirror in my room and in front of it is where I shall stand for eternity. This year, I've spent two hundred and eighty dollars on not six, not seven, but three articles of clothing alone. Everywhere I go, my irreplaceable hat needs to be covering my bed-hair or gel needs to be holding my every strand in its correct position, I mean, you can't leave the house without looking as if you don't take pride in your appearance. Shave, moisturise, cologne; a clean and a fragrant, aromatic face can say so much about somebody and by maintaining the money-maker, I am stimulating senses in the people around me and becoming an awe-inspiring genius in the process. I don't just wear my clothes, everybody wears clothes, it's against the law not to, I like to give myself some character, using a little bit of initiative by accessorising a bit; with a ring on my middle finger, a cuff on my right-wrist and colour bands on the left I have done so much from doing so little. Take it from me, arms that resemble an empty car park complex is a ruined potential, like a good shirt in need of some companionship, why not put a nice necklace on it and give myself something that the clothing manufacturer didn't? With the little money I have, I like to spend big; when I turn up to a party, I want to glow in someone's eyes; I want the things that hang off the outside of my body to speak about what's on the inside; I want to look, smell and feel my best; I just want to look good, really.

Now, with who I am; I think words are my greatest friend and my best asset academically. I thank my parents for teaching me how to use these powerful weapons we as humans misuse, and surely enough, I thank god for giving me the explosive ammo that I need so I can give these beautiful weapons some meaning, we call this ammo my brain. Right now, I am nailing this, almost as if this document is JFK and I am Lee Harvey. Not knowing what you're talking about can cut me deeply when it is intellectually based; I will forever take comfort in knowing everything going on around me, and achieve that crushed-crayon feeling of asininity on the days that I don't. I am a great mate and I know that if anybody likes to think differently could never be more wrong about it. When I see you cry my heart melts for you no matter how much I dislike you. I love the fact that I can simply pick up a pen and write you lyrics; I think it's awesome that a prolonged bus trip can simply mean another blog entry of my philosophical nothingness; I love that I can see an object and type a page on it; I love that I can use words the way that I do.

Essentially, I am an awesome person.
Reasons I say this are as follows.

When I look into the mirror, I see:
a guy who could be a good boyfriend if he ever had the chance to be
a good looking dude
a person who has never set out to hurt another
a guy who thrives on seeing the people he cares about smile
someone who's been hurt and someone that's been happy
a person who's seen the beautiful and seen the ugly
a guy who's first to the scene but last to be thanked
someone who doesn't wish to fight with anyone, even though he does
a guy that makes an effort when the effort is mutual
a face that only smiles when the ones he cares about smile
someone who's genuine, nice & funny
a face of gold and a beating heart
a dying breed
and a guy who knows it.

Friday, July 25, 2008

A Hand To Hold

I give a two out of three; great arse, brilltastic line of enamel, nice set (as Matt likes to put it). So, does the great guy lose points because he doesn't drive a car, or does she go down in the list because she doesn't root?

We live in a cruel, competitive world, one of which losing a girl is a simple task; you should be terrified because if this girl of your dreams is also a gorgeous one, start loading the shotgun, my friend. If you are feeling that atomic desire for someone you don't know all that well, take it from me, squeeze some industrial strength glue into your palm, grab that incredible person by the hand and squeeze tight for 20-30 seconds to ensure maximum adhesiveness.

It's now or never and if she's all or nothing, don't fuck around. In one year, you don't want to be the idiot watching from the side line as a lesser idiot-arsehole takes every ounce of her innocence just so he can brag about it over drinks that night.

He's gone, she's gone; that's all there is to it. A girl is just a girl and that girl will soon be replaced by another one, but if you're going to spend the next twelve months living with resentment, watching other lustrous couples and saying to your mate I want that, then don't let the situation put you there.

Just don't keep driving around the tarmac; take off, fly low a little, take a plunge, whatever;
if you have the ability to fly, then why not do it?

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Don’t Stay; Forget Our Memories; Forget Our Possibilities.

Your grandmother could die tomorrow; your father may die coming home from work tonight; your best friend may message you letting you know she'll be in Melbourne tomorrow to never return; he once lived in Greystanes, now in Westmead; once in Australia and now in Canada; life this morning, death tonight.

Our youth was our incubation period, a period where our grandparents were young enough to remain alive and we, ourselves, were to young to purchase a plane ticket and look after ourselves, our folks were to in love to split or too in love with this city to leave; it's all priced to clear now. The diminishing factor that held everyone and everything together is thinning, no one wants to see the day where they are a stranger in the street they group up in or a stranger to the friends they left back in the suburbs of Sydney.

Some of them die suddenly, some want people to tell them not to leave, and some unfortunately want people to just let them go, either way, I just want them to tell me when and where they're going and to give me five minutes to hug them goodbye and tell them that I'll miss there touch for as long as I live. Soon everyone we love that live either locally or alive, will be either too far or too dead to be reached; they'll just be gone, and that terrifies me.

My family, my friends, we're on rocky ground now.

Monday, July 14, 2008

My Teeth Are Chattering

I am not cold, just terrified, because I feel as if it's only been a couple of weeks and I am already reliving the memory of the 26th of January, 2008 again. 
Please don't...

Just know, you won't need to stop me from asking questions if you make sure that they will always remain answered.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

I Can Hear You Screaming, But I Can’t See The Lips Moving.

It's eight degrees Celsius and it's freezing tonight. I am willing to bet that it's this winter's coldest, and I am also willing to bet that earlier tonight more than half of Sydney's shivering population switched on a heater of some sort. I couldn't imagine the amount of resources our power stations cut from the earth just in fueling a comfortable temperature for our quaint homes tonight. So, while the politicians dispute over the need for nuclear power and the protection of non-renewable resources and the environment, are they, and anybody else for that matter, doing anything about the issue at hand other than bitching about it?

You see it's funny, bitching is when you complain yet do nothing, and that appears to be all that's happening. Climate change, green, environment, hybrid, I hear these 'terms' day-in and day-out. You see, I hear you screaming, but I don't see the lips moving. Sure, things are being done, we have the Kyoto Protocol, Water Restrictions, Hybrid Vehicles, etc. but they're grade A sources of raw bullshit which let off fireworks distracting you from the big picture. The Kyoto Protocol, essentially an intelligent sounding word put on the end of a Japanese city, right? My point exactly, in order to know anything about the international agreement, excluding the fact that Howard refused to sign it and that Rudd can say it fifty times in one of his speeches, is to gather up the initiative to research it yourself, because from memory there were no explanations or bunch of words that helped share some
light on what our leader was signing, no publication on the television from the PM or at least something pointing us to a website, no way, just "Kevin'07: I will sign something you have no idea about...but it opposes Howard so how could it not be the right decision??". The candid truth is, ..Kyoto.. was never signed in the name of worldwide climate control, everyone just hated that bald idiot and if we didn't, Australia would be in the negative limelight because of it.....

Water Restrictions, I really can't bash them, having to put my life in danger while watering my front yard in the dark while some arsehole drives round with yellow stickers on his car so he can fine me has never really bothered me at all. Sure it sounds like a pretty realistic tactic, but a tactic is what it shall remain, never a solution, because honestly, how much of a significant difference has it made in the last two to three years? Appropriately enough, our Former Environment Minister once queried the sense in having Water Restrictions while there aren't restrictions for any other needs, like electricity.

Hybrid cars, I saw one for the first time the other day, ironically, being driven by one of the members of the Directorial staff of my TAFE, in other words, a rich suit, a government bureaucrat; what conclusions can you draw from this? Let's see, well not only do you need to be somehow associated with the men and women pushing this sort of thing, but you also need some loose change, the type of loose change that could sink a ship. Besides, car manufacturers may have had environmental intentions originally in mind when prototypes were made but don't let yourself be preempted from the fact that, being caught in a fuel crisis, this is the ideal time for companies like Toyota to throw a machine like this on the market. So, it's that whole, should I keep my bomb and eventually pay the price that it would cost for the Hybrid, or just buy the Hybrid and never have to worry again?

Well, that's my five cents anyway, I could go on further but I think I have said enough. It's just, nothing seems to be happening in the name of Mother Nature, and has it ever? Seems to me like it's only ever through the handshakes between politicians & corporations and Mother Fame & Fortune.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Nothing Less Than Brilliant

Love, you don't know if it's here to stay but you could never imagine it leaving, even though at times, you wish it just would. It place marks history, it makes you wonder, makes you smile, makes me happy.

With friends, it's a bunch of people that rack out amongst many more, the people you will race to when you are afraid or upset. Like heat on water, the ones that have spilled will eventually rise again, and if they don't, they won't be forgotten. The electricity and curious wonders will never die for either one of both the parties involved, forever making it strange but enough to make the urges comfortable and resistible. Your hugs will entail friendship only but will hold a footnote of unique attachment prolonging a tight, hugging grasp of the history that the love has forever been constructed on.

Dude or dudette; many months of closed mouths and shut eyes make those first few glances the absinthe to the loving soul. The bright smile and wide-eye-staring intoxicates the beautiful mind, extracting any spot of tension within my every limb, as if it were to imminently go out of fashion. But who would've known that time and a few simple dialing numbers would be the cause to the best of times…that are soon to come.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Caught in a Funk

It's 6am and the alarm clock is buzzing; time to wake up.
I am stuck in a hole, in which I dug, I dug it by upgrading my life with all this shit I depend on so much; my computer, my media player, my phone; these damn things run my life.

You see, I've been without my phone for quite sometime now. Despite the large amount of dollars I have thrown into the slot of many payphones out there, without a doubt I couldn't give a stuff about not being able to call or message, but in having my phone in repairs for the past month, I have lost access to maps, details regarding certain events, a resolution to boredom, and most importantly, it was my damn organiser. I've just been so busy and in times like these, my phone always helped me prioritise, put everything in perspective and pace myself a little. Since losing my phone, assessment dates have just gone straight over my head, I have failed to attend my last two staff meetings and anything that I do need to know, is either on my palms, in my head or in a small book that I have tried and failed to substitute for my phone.

Look at this, perfect example, I am having a bitch about a phone, some wires in a bit of plastic; this is the hole I put myself in. I'm having a great time but it would be better if I had my phone, I can be out with mates and my mood will just dive each time I reach into my pocket forgetting that my Hiptop is elsewhere. I just feel incomplete without it, and it's the shittiest feeling and the shittiest situation I have put myself in, where the loss of a material object is effecting my mood. Fuck it, I have a half a tooth in my lip and am due in for surgery and all I can worry about is getting that damn phone back.

It just feels like my life is at a pause at the moment, like a video in a VCR, and this is going to be something that will only continue to grow from here on in and my only option to stop it seems to be an option I am not willing to take.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Second-Firsts Don't Exist

Five months and then it will be time to depart this doomed youth and the mindlessness that is achieved from living in it and all I seem to want is to salvage this plummeting society of its rapidly dying breed of purity baring beings. Every month the list gets smaller as the pages thin further and nothing grows faster like the terrifying fear of your options thinning so rapidly that you begin to lose track of your friend's extra-curricular.

Who said that there was ever a problem with waiting for that small fragment of the male population to demonstrate a hint of promise or a granule of authenticity so that it can at least be said that your virginity was once something to be valued and not something to be lost. I am not saying that sex is something that I feel the need to have, but I, and anyone else truly aspiring not to be like the rest drowning in the sea of throbbing genitalia, are surely feeling the pressure.

Right now, I could tell you that there are three (or two) cliques who remain on my side of the court, people with brains that had sex over a long-term or a promising relationship, people with brains which have abandoned the male race or those people that are too drug-fucked to know what they have or haven't done; I just want to be secure in knowing that when I feel emotionally available enough to be prepared to actually seal the deal, there will still be someone out there that at least thought some sense. The teenagers of this and the previous century seem to treat and have treated such a non-volatile event as something that needs to be lost at it's first opportune moment and if that were indeed the case in my mind, it would be very hypocritical of me to be writing this wouldn't it?

I guess the question I am really trying to ask here is,
is your first time something that you can truly look back on,
or something that you want back?

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Fake the Funk

Give me something; I'll even settle for anything that resembles a microcosm of thought that will help me sleep and wake up tomorrow in a world which still holds potential of a freshly devised sentiment. The fable of Adam and Eve never spoke of reprising the thoughts of others or the latest gadget on the market; this universe is not a possession, it's one gigantic learning environment, use it.

One thing I have learnt since living in the midst of this millennium's youth is the oblivion to all things real and obvious, basically; these kids all go to school to learn, go out and learn something, not in the classroom, but it'd be a good start for the mass majority of my doomed generation.

You want a life lesson? Leave your MySpace for just a few hours and begin thinking for yourself by identifying everyone and everything surrounding you. We have library's of books, a cyberspace of words and a classroom that is the world, now with that being said I will leave you with this, ash your cigarette and pocket your eye-liner and learn something about it,
you fuck wit.

Saturday, May 31, 2008


Whoever doesn't give a shit

won't read this.

paradox a person or thing having contradictory properties.

I….am confused. I am on two-minds about everything right now, I don't know what to do, and I am pretty much lost between what's right and what I want. I guess it just boils down to that whole idea of life being one big Paradox, living the life as one big contradictory being. Like right now…see now I lost my train of thought, Linkin Park got me, sorry. Back to what I was saying, it's funny, I don't know if it's the concept of 'you don't know what you have 'til it's gone' but I just realised something, by New Years '08, I had befriended all the people that I will ever love before adulthood, I may not be with them as friends anymore but my happy days (not the show) are built on the fact that for a phase in my life, I was fucking sunshine and lollipops, I could walk down the street having everywhere to turn, I am getting chipper just thinking about it now, its a euphoric feeling…read my song Positopolis, it's all about that feeling of security, the smiles, the jokes, sleeping in Ancient, the bus to the station every morning with you and afternoons after school at your place, that was my nirvana right there. Sure, you guys pissed me off and did things that didn't thrill me but just the fact that I got to spend that portion of my youth with such brilliant kids, regardless of there later actions, just gets me. In around five months time, I can technically call myself an adult, in 2011 I will vote, on November 12th this year I will buy the latest issue of Playboy at the newsagent on the way to Star City, that's pretty damn scary, yet will you see me spending this remaining five months trying to fulfill my lost teenage social life, in compensation for the four and a half years I spent with my head in a book? No! It's better to have loved then lost than to have never have loved at all. This period we're in now, I lead a non-existent social life trying to achieve a high band HSC mark knowing that at one point since I turned thirteen I actually did have an awesome time every minute of the day. I will never regret kissing you in that park next to where the cinemas were, when you used to tease LP and I would tease MCR, when you were forced to watch me sleep in Miss Davis' class everyday, when you dragged me halfway across Guildford to hook up with Straightjacket and every time we took turns at crashing at each other's places (like seriously, dude, come get your shirts and your television and stuff, it's pissing me off.)

Honestly, last Saturday night was an awesome night at Carla's dinner, but I got home and I had a bit of a turn, for a few hours I laid on the floor in a majorly depressed state, spending some of it bitching to Jess about how bad my life is, the thing about that is, it's not. I walk through Westfields with hat on head and hoodie on hat and from within my own little mobile sanctuary which is created I am loathing at the site of happy couples, why? Maybe I am a little freaking crazy, perhaps something isn't right up in here anymore (by the way, I am pointing to my temple), because on the very late hours of Saturday I spent in my person-less home, .000000001% of me could've off-ed myself, and that's one more than any other day of my whole entire life; let's just say it was a terrible end to a great night. So, I had an awesome teenage life, it was nothing and never anything to bitch about, fuck it, people didn't want to be friends with me anymore or had some sort of lapse in judgement, I get it, but I had an awesome bundle of personalities at one point or another, personalities which I was affiliated with and I shouldn't be feeling like this about something that was so perfect. I can sit in this seat for another year regretting how I treated you, regretting that I let you treat me like this, I could spend another year trying to be best mates with you, making you the 'Most Trustworthy' again or whatever, or maybe I could just accept it… and be happy in doing so.

It's like I had this mentality that the teenaged Ryan had to end with the girl that he adored and the mates that he loved dearly or like I had to maintain the control I had over the people I socialised with, it doesn't, I will make sure that my teenage years only end in present and future and those two of three things should be all that is in mind the moment I turn eighteen, simple. Just hop on a boat and go with the tide, enough of this 'what if' bullshit, if it happens, it happens, it maybe a small group but I have great buddies now, a HSC ahead, and who knows, in a years time I may one day be on that bus going to Merrylands, sitting in the real estate or the gaming store you work at or maybe even at your front step when you open the door, butterflies in my stomach and a bright smile on my face, maybe you might slam the door closed, or maybe we might grab a coffee, probably not as friends but as two people reminiscing on the happiest time of my life so far, and hopefully yours; as time goes on and whatever wounds that still remain to be healed, we may just be sitting at a café face-to-face. I've just have to keep positive and remember that time can heal anything, and like the tortoise in The Tortoise and the Hare fable, slow and steady wins the race.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

The Me, The Old

Nothing exciting, just last week I was reading my The Me section of my MySpace profile and realised that, one, the content had been there for somewhere between one and two years and, two, that because of that I had basically deleted and added so many different things into it that it seemed to me like I had made one big mess of what I was trying to say in that section. So, today I am just archiving the old because it may still mean something to someone, and on my profile now is a fresh, clearer piece of writing. Old:

Ryan William James Quinn
Remember The Name.

Remember that
Just because I can say hey, how's it going?
Does not mean that I can't articulate fuck off as well.

Remember that
Anything that I say or do will last a lifetime.

Essentially, I adore each and every aspect of my world; my buddies and my family make life worth living; music keeps me listening; my computer keeps me occupied; and chocolate makes me money.

My buddies are my fuel for living. I live for the days I make them smile, or the days I sight a twinkle in their eye, but the unfortunate thing about that fact is, I am the type of guy that has been fucked by most of the people he once treated like gold. Point is, even though it may take years for them to break the act and reveal, you find out who betrays and the rarity of the ones who prevail the risks and remain one hundred percent at your side.

I often think of sacrificial riddles that can only be resolved by experience and moment, not truth and thought. Ask yourself this, would you rather be lying in hospital besieged by friends that truly love you or the healthiest person alive with none?

I think that public transport is a way to ruin a Friday afternoon.
Heavy-Metal music is a method to gradually depress your sensation, yet enlighten your mind to loud tunes.
Gangster-Rap music is an approach to flatter the realisation that males are only after one thing.
Real Rap allows you to be faced with a fast paced diary of feelings which are converted into rhyme.

Sometimes I find myself in days where I am a ticking time-bomb; authority figures on my back and deadlines fast approaching. Muscles tense, fists tighten and there is no where to run but violence at the breathe of an insult. At the end of these days I used to throw punches, now I throw words down on a page.

These days, lingo is thrown around like balls in a ball park. Here's a brief low-down: you will never here me use words like biatch, eshayz, gabba, hardcore; Rarely will I say I miss you or that I love you at the end of a conversation, to be said it needs to be true no matter how close we maybe; and wenis, I may not have been the first person to create it but I was the first person to find it in a slang dictionary and spread it and now everyone uses it, remember who introduced, alright? All I am trying to say is that just because it rains doesn't mean you have to catch every drop, saying something that doesn't make any sense doesn't particularly mean you are 'cool', just makes you and anyone else using it look like an idiot.

Know this
If you drive me, I will boil.

If you want me to join you, I disdain.

If I wanted to play games with you, I would buy an Xbox.

The word 'hate' needs passion to hold any type of meaning and foundation. If you hate someone because they are there or because they knocked you in a busy corridor a few years back, you do not hate them, you're just a dick, and for hating-dicks like that, I am a loading dock; don't go down that path with me.

I worship the idea that every human is designed to be loved and hates to be hated.

I write rap songs but I should not be considered a rapper; I am merely a young song-writer that has a set style, a vague ambition and random shocks of inspiration.

End of Exam.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Love Lust

I love the excitement, I love the suspense, I love beginnings. If I could have it my way, I would trade all my hate and jealousy in for a life of lust; not love, just lust. Lust is defined as a strong desire, in this case, a desire for another being. There is never anything better than that pre game of wondering if they feel the same or waking up in the morning with a face on your mind. This all may sound lame but so be it, the feeling is a discovery of something that was much better than what was previously lusted for.

Let me tell you why I love to lust:
Lust is a time where you find yourself trying to make impressions.
Lust is a time of wondering, progressing and waiting.
Lust is a time of making time for a person.
Lust is letting all your closest friends know.
Lust is living in front of there MySpace or watching every video on there YouTube channel.
Lust is putting on expensive aftershave.
Lust is staring at the ceiling.
Lust is admiring.
Lust is smiling when they smile.
Lust is looking into there eyes.
Lust is hugging them tightly, but touching them oh so gently.

To lust is to adore something beautiful,
through the eyes of you.
Gee, I love lust.

Thursday, April 3, 2008


I am telling you though; it’s been a weird two months. It’s been a February and March of serene loneliness, horniness and lifelessness. I’ve been meeting people that have been interested in me, both sexually and intellectually but they don’t know me. Now, if you do know me well, you would know that I am a virgin, and that I am 17 and that’s alright for me, I don’t feel peer pressure, not to brag or try to self-proclaim or anything but I truly believe to be peer pressure immune, but it’s gotten to the point where I am wondering when will I lose my virginity, ballpark? You see, a few months ago I was living with this mentality that my future reeked of a life with this girl that I love because for the first time I found myself experiencing something real for a change, a relationship that was two directional, not just a one way thing where I am busting my balls for peanuts. Eventually, because of our mutual effort I fell in love with her. It got to the point where I’d spent more time with her as a boyfriend than I had with anyone ever before and as far as I could look down our road, I thought we would triple that period hands-down and as big as that tripling number maybe, I thought I would have been able to share all these things with her. After all the whores I turned down these previous years; in the city, in my old groups, I knew I was deflecting those prepositions in order to experience my first time with something actually worthwhile and special (and to avoid Chlamydia) and that special person was that beautiful girl I thought I actually had a future with.

Okay…so, after building this three year expectation, two months ago that all turned to the trash, the whole theory had washed away like an old Smith’s chips packet in the gutter of a rainy day, and now I am left with what? A right hand, and some of the same old-same old’s willing for a beneficial friendship. So, should I quit tripping balls through the temple of chivalry and stop wasting my time? My mature buddy says no, my dick says yes, my brain says ’that’s preposterous!’ and my heart is swearing at me for being a complete moron for even considering it and sacrificing any gram of a chance I might have with the love of my slowly dying youth. At the point of the recycling of my expectations, the sudden switcheroo left me at an all time down, from accompaniment to no accompaniment in no time at all; it put me in this lonely state where I am seeking souls, a soul offering a solidly grounded friendship that perhaps someone like Loz or Harb once offered. Sure, I am happy, just lonely is all.

So, that was my story, lonely and horny as fuck. So what? Am I to wait another three years, bowl over another twenty or so girlfriends, endure another Kristyn, another Lauren, another Alyssa, another Katelyn, lose another hand full of friends again, lose another Matthew, maybe by then it might be Belinda or perhaps, Rita; all in the hope to find just another perfect person. When I get that phrase, ’You’ll find another one’ that’s bullshit, but hold up a sec, no it’s not, it’s just I have to go through the hell of what I just mentioned once again in order to find another one. So, in my loneliness I am going through the ordeal of trying to feel that closeness again and that would be because I haven’t had much friendly contact in these past three months, no male bonding; no holding hands with my girlfriend; no sexual contact and; nothing has touched these lips but a toothbrush shaft and pieces of lonely pizza.

Although, I’m not having a bitch about these people I am involved with at current; Elise, Rita, Bel - these guys are my Batmen (well, batwomen) and I love them, I am mighty appreciative and mighty grateful at this point that I still have these guys over others. The other day I went to the show with Bel and her gang, fun bunch but that’s beside the point, the way Belinda was hugging me hello and goodbye gave me a shiver, like this tingle, it was nothing sexual, we weren’t holding hands or making out or anything threatening like that, but it was a hug that felt like it mattered, the only two hugs I have received since late January that have been at the sending side of making me feel like I was worthy of a real hug or a real connection with a real person. Honestly, she will read this and perhaps think back on our greetings and know that she wasn’t doing it with any special intention, honestly, these people didn’t do anything intentional, I’m sure Rita didn’t get up one morning and be like ’I’m going to give Ryan some company’ or something exacting that idea, that’s the reason I love them, because this is them, this isn’t some façade that will bite back at me, high school is almost over and these guys are growing up, so tall they look down at and shit on people that are at their weakest. Regardless, for the five or ten seconds that Bel and I were in each other’s arms, I didn’t feel that sense of loneliness anymore, it may have been the serenity I’d been feeling lately, but it was certainly a different form of it and those few moments were nothing less than brilliant.

This is just a prime symbolism of that Smith’s chip packet, the hug was that packet being recycled, I felt what I once felt again but just that I’ve managed to utilise the euphoria through the hugging power of someone that has begun to mean a great deal to me as a mate. Remember, GI-GO (Garbage-In-Garbage-Out), "You win some, you lose some". I’ve lost a bus full of people, and now some people are driving into my life in cabs. I welcome you.


Saturday, March 8, 2008

The Last Scratch

I don't usually like to eat my own words, but this part of my life is in the past. - 14/7/10

Monday, February 25, 2008

Grind The Skull

I don't usually like to eat my own words, but this part of my life is in the past. - 14/7/10

Saturday, February 23, 2008

Itch the Skull

I don't usually like to eat my own words, but this part of my life is in the past. - 14/7/10

Sunday, February 10, 2008

Scratch The Skull

I don't usually like to eat my own words, but this part of my life is in the past. - 14/7/10

Monday, January 28, 2008

Scratched Skull

I don't usually like to eat my own words, but this part of my life is in the past. - 14/7/10

Thursday, January 24, 2008

The Sun Rose

This morning I woke up . . .

Looking into the eyes of the girl I love.

I Love Jess

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Social Suicide

Alright, let's get one thing straight, I am a loser, or was, well…errr, see I'm not too sure because it's your choice how you would like to label me. I say this because, I recently met an angry, angry, older girl, let's name her Xena, who once knew (or now loathes) another girl I've known for quite a while longer of the same age, we'll call her Daisy. Now, amazingly they both attended the same high school, Xena is a female version of me in the early years of me starting out as an adult as opposed to Daisy. For both Xena and I, Daisy would be one of those people that make up one of those spaces on a 'to be killed' list. The other night I witnessed the 'to be killed' passing judgment on the angsty Xena and referring to her high school status as "the biggest loser in school", now allow me to raise the question again, is Xena me??? Checklist: high school, tick; angry, tick; loser, tick. Now, on top of me being the one with loser above his head as if it were a thirteen year length game of Celebrity Heads, I did most of the work for everyone, I committed 'social suicide'. Now, for the very few on the globe that have not yet been informed, by suicide I'm referring to my previous employment as a secret service agent for the Aussie government. Crack, bang, toy guns, files and identification tags, the freakin' works; I could've been a con artist. For so many years I dedicated my youth to trying to convince people I was 007, with rare success of course, therefore putting myself in a bad place in the silly little game of being a kid. Course, kids make stuff up all the time but I took it too far and way too long. You ask me why? Some said it was because my folks went there separate ways, fuck you and mind your own business, some say I'm a complete idiot, congratulations. The real underlay of it all was, I wanted to stick out, I wanted to be different because at a young age, I subconsciously knew that everything ran the same functionality like mechanical robots, especially in faggy, little catholic schools where people give their lives to a book of short, fiction pieces. Although, true, I did get what I wanted but it never panned out the way I'd originally planned in my young age. That is all.

I am now leaving the building, Agent Quinn - Transmission Out.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Foreword ’08

It's 2008.
This is 17 years in the making.
I'm lying in a dark hotel room.
HSC year.
The beginning of the rest of my life.
Rise and shine, Ryan, it's time to shine above others, time to put the foot down. Lives are separating, we were best buddies now we are just simple acquaintances in passing that have new friends with the new job and the new world all in the package of a new life, all natural symptoms of a new sculpt, I am not yet sculpted. That process has not yet begun, this is the foreword to that process. The unfortunate fact is, sculpting can never survive in a loving environment. You blog about great days that fulfill your happiness with another which in turn, you are happy and I shall never destroy that but in compensation your joy injures my still existent and evidently non-mutual love and grasp on the past, I am afraid to admit that this will prevent me from sculpting but I am, and I am afraid that I won't be able to. The reason I have trouble letting go is the fact that the past I behold is a bundle of premature endings, for example, Lauren, I left our friendship in all good reason and all due time, yes, it was due time the fighting and pain ended, I feel refreshed by the ending because it needed to be done and I have let it go, but let's look at this on the other hand, Vanessa labelled 'most trustworthy' left the friendship many months back, it still hurts because it shouldn't have ended, we never see each other, her new developing world is like plaster and I choose not to revert her new back to old memories, in other words, the place I am stuck; Matthew was like a brother and right now all is well and good after what happened between him and Katelyn but the friendship is something different, like a spawn of what was me and him to what is now the reality of life and it's affect on a once strong friendship; Elise and I were always built on foundations with a lot of scenes and cracks, over this past time she has sculpted, as with any loving being there is only so much attention to be passed around and I need more from the sculpted Elise, trying just isn't enough with these 'once-were buddies'. Now the question remains, with all this in hand, will I sculpt, is this actually a before writing to a future transformation, yes and her name is Jessica.

4 months in the making.
She is evidence of sculpting, finally I have found something. After something like 20 'girlfriends', after every weekly girlfriend, every ditch, every meaningless toungue thrust, here we go for the real thing, what is to set me straight and show me what a real relationship with another human being feels like. Under every silly argument, every minute we don't communicate, we have a strong connection that isn't just a passable cloud filled with pursuits, confusion, rush and broken crayons like others, but a solid boulder of mutual love that cannot be bought. No matter Matt, Vanessa, Elise or Lauren, it's fine if my love exists and the friendship does not, aslong as I still have this one constant figure named Jess alongside those four squigly lines, ill be set to make something of my life.
Just thinking out loud.

Friday, January 4, 2008

A Brand Named Life

Brand Named aspects of my life:

All young adults must have.

The Simpsons
Network Ten: same episodes each week.

If it isn't Nokia, it isn't worth it.

He's a cool dude.

Lays Batman woop-ass on iPod (excluding iTunes).

No supernatural power needed to lay woop-ass.

Veolia Transport
Shittest bus company, Sydney Buses (Gov) much better.

City Rail
Good to tease but it's doing it's best.

...will never beat Fanta.

Mountain Dew almost as good as Fanta but never better than Ribena.

Packaged Ham
Steals the moola and is an inadequate feed.

Living cliché.

City Beach
Isn't worth walking into.

The only tasty frozen pies.

A gangster, html-illiterate and lazy version of MySpace.

A super-sweet MySpace imitation where MySpace ideas originate.

50 Cent
Got shot in the mouth and suddenly became a black guy trying to be a white guy which is trying to be a black guy (Eminem).

Not a living dead camera company.

Windows Media Player
Evil when it comes to errors but the way to go.

MSN/ Live Messenger
Bloatware: majority of the 18mb install and system load is for appearance, much like Vista.

Internet Explorer/ Outlook Express
For Suckers.

Spy Kids
Had too many movies.

Russel Crowe
Less insane, yet Aussie version of Tom Cruise.

Tom Cruise
A complete idiot.

The best show of all time, in my opinion.

What went wrong?

Lynx (Twist Top)
The new can does not work!

Teen/ Garage bands
Hardly ever anything amazing.

Chad Robert Turton-Kroeger (Nickelback Lead Singer)
Sweet vocals.

Worth it.

Not worth it.