Requiem for a Quiche

More astute readers will have noticed that I haven’t been blogging. A lot of things have changed since my last post in October 2008.

Let’s sidestep the ones which currently feel most important! Gosh, don’t you love hearing that.

I’ve moved from high school to university; from a shared house with a travel agent and a bunch of Chinese in Adelaide’s leafy south-east to living alone in a flat in a suburb of Italians and retirement fortresses – a suburb all but unique in not being scorned by Adelaide Metro.

Well, I had approximately 6 months here without internet at home. I’m going to over-simplify matters by saying “yes, that is exactly as hard as you think.”

I hadn’t blogged for some time before that, and not for some time since. That is because blogging is really not important to me. Blogging often seems like pissing into the wind.

Successful blogs require dedication – and do I even want a succesful blog? Probably not. I certainly do not want to be a “dedicated blogger”.

I do not even think I have anything that special to say. There are more good blogs than could be read, and they are just the tip of an iceberg composed largely of utter rubbish. If we narrow the pool of blogs to a group so small as those made by people I know personally – there are blogs with more interesting things to say than me (fig 1, fig 2), more interesting ways to say them (fig 3, fig 4), or both. Does that mean I follow them? No. I talk to these people.
If I say that any distillation of their views is less wholesome than those people themselves, I hope they take it as a compliment.

I’m still listening to a lot of music! My music profile is still here, and while you can see from the charts what I’ve listened to most between now and October 2006, I’m going to recommend to you the bands I’ve gotten into much more recently. And don’t go thinking they are an accurate representation of my listening habits at large.
Eluveitie are not pronounced the way they are spelt. It’s “Elveyte”, I am told. They are Swiss, sing in a local dialect of Celtic (extinct, of course), and use bagpipes convincingly – it’s not a gimmick. I suggest you Youtube their song Inis Mona, and also Uis Elveti if you’re at all interested in Folk Metal.
The Cinematic Orchestra is, hm, chill-out jazz with electronic elements. Check out To Build A Home, it’s my favourite of theirs. You’ll probably recognise it from a Schweppes advert.
Kronos Quartet. So the elementally themed “Ghost Opera” freaked you out with the moaning and shrieking and splashing that accompanied the oriental tunes? You were scared away by Act III: Dialogue with ‘Little Cabbage’? Suck it up, go out and get their latest album Floodplain, a musical exploration of the middle east. Here is a serious review on the BBC website. It gushes compliments. And rightly so.
Yoshida Brothers are instrumental Japanese folk rock on traditional instruments, and remind me more of Altan Urag and Apocalyptica than Bond or Twelve Girls Band (which means they are actually good).
David Garrett is a classically trained violinist. Lots of people are taking violin in new poppy directions, he is one of them. He does it well, and owns obscenely expensive violins. That doesn’t bear any relation to how good he is, as proponents of the “Andre Rieu is a talentless Belgian” theory will tell you. You’re best off looking up his cover of Smooth Criminal, which I am keen on.
Globus – I didn’t think of this at first. I’ve had it so long, but I’ve ignored this blog longer. It’s cinematic music, as used in dramatic trailers. It may seem cheesy because vocals are almost always in English (rather than the Latin favoured by this genre), but if you approach this from a pop music angle, it’ll blow you away. It doesn’t feel contrived like E.S. Posthumus, and it doesn’t grow immediately old like the prolific X-Ray Dog. I have positive things to say about Corner Stone Cues, but I don’t know about their lasting power, as I’ve only had the album Requiem for a Tower for a month.
Andrew Lloyd Webber is a bit of a hack. I don’t have any pretentions of being able to compose music, but I find his work overly simplistic (not the same as minimalist) and over-emotional (not the same as melodramatic). Get your hands on Requiems by Giuseppe Verdi, Gabriel Fauré, and Johannes Brahms, in addition to Mozart’s which you doubtless already have.
I have recently banished Академический ансамбль песни и пляски Российской (known to the proletariat as the Red Army Choir) from my media player of choice because I have grown tired of them. Just so you know.
Tenochtitlan is a Russian-language band from Russia. They are Aztec-themed ethnic doom metal (if I were more of a hat, I’d call them ambient and progressive too). They were rather better than I expected from such a description. I expect novelty concepts to be something of a joke, but this is done really well. If the description doesn’t appeal to you, then you probably shouldn’t be getting it.
Gogol Bordello is gypsy punk. Sounds like a novelty, is likewise good – I’ve had this band for a long time, too. You should get it whether the description appeals or not. Be safe and YouTube Not A Crime or Zina-Marina.

In my time without internet, I read a lot of books. I’m still reading now. I re-read C.S. Forrester’s Hornblower novels, which are as always terrific. I re-read The Dice Man, which is the single book I have forced onto the most people. It was gratifying to see that a book I enjoyed so much when I was 15 is genuinely brilliant.
Raymond E. Feist’s Riftwar series is excellent, and so is the Empire series he wrote in collaboration with Janny Wurtis.  I insist you find and read Feist’s Magician, and you will probably hunt down the rest of the books based on that. It is one of those books which you finish in a surprisingly short time and cannot think of how to improve. I read Feist’s later (and much longer) revision, though. I think it is called “preferred version” or something, much in the way of a directors’ cut.

So far, this talk of books has been one-dimensional. Those were the best.
Well, A. A. Attanasio’s The Last Legends of Earth is presumably an okay book, but he seems to have no idea what he is doing when he manhandles a large clichéd soft sci-fi vocabulary around. I only picked it up because of the emphatic reviews on the back from such plausible sources as Locus, the L.A. Times and Silverberg. Why do people think being compared to Olaf Stapledon’s Last and First Men is a good thing? Just because something is a milestone work in a major genre of literature doesn’t mean it is actually good.

Richard Howard’s works must be burned at every opportunity. I speak of Bonaparte’s Sons and Bonaparte’s Invaders. This omnibus was dirt-cheap for a reason.
The style is reminiscent of the “chapter books” we read in junior primary, at age seven.
[Dialogue] [character] said, chuckling.
[character] looked [emotion]
It was evidently written by a congenital idiot (who enjoys period films) in consultation with the list of words which can be used place of “said”, which he has pinned to his wall.

I found a nice English-German bilingual school dictionary (Cassell’s, Great Britain) from before the war, in which all the German is set in Fraktur, the blackletter typeface long favoured by the Germans, which you will recognise from the side of the Hindenburg.

Since I’ve been talking about books for a while, I’ll just repeat that China Miéville’s Perdido Street Station is brilliant. I must have said that in a previous blog.

I also have a tumblr. I’m certain it has been called “picture blogging for idiots” at some point. For exactly the same reasons, it is much more accessible and maintainable than a traditional blog. Q: Is mine safe for work? A: Maybe.

It is perhaps the knowledge that my ramblings go on for so long that keeps me from blogging.

My sleep cycle is about seven hours out, which means I’m jet-lagged from Istanbul, without actually leaving Adelaide. That means I should probably be making towards bed.

So; good night, internet~

Like puzzle pieces from the clay

Last night I watched A Better Tomorrow II, or 英雄本色 2 in Hong Kong. (Wikipedia/IMDb) and it was great.
It tended to be a bit hard to follow – it started with ballroom dancing and beards, grew into police infiltration of crime organisations, flew over to New York for some hilarious “EAT THE FUCKING RICE, GUILAO” (I’m paraphrasing ruthlessly) at gunpoint (in response to a protection racket) and then had some mind-losing.

But don’t worry, it turns into a bloodbath.  Really.  It’s like the Matrix Lobby Scene with more blood and Asians.
So, shotguns are awesome, Asians are awesome, rice is awesome.  Oh, and this is where The Matrix got the Trinity-sliding-down-stairs-shooting sequence.

There’s money-printing, force-feeding, dancing, badly dubbed white people, and Chow Yun Fat.

I think we should all see it.  I liked it a lot, it was great fun.  I wouldn’t say it was my favourite film, or anything near it.
“You no like my rice” is hilarious. There are other funny bits too, naturally.
But it reminds us that one of the few good things to come from the 80s (in addition to Tetris, Rick Astley, and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles) is action films where cars explode like that.
*clicks fingers illustratively*

The other night we had Burritos.  Eventually, the resident Chinese homestays Matthew and Timber (yes, like ‘wood’) loaded the tortillas with rice.  Tim quite likes drenching everything in tomato sauce.
Anyway, rice.

I was going to blag about other things; being introduced to awesome and shockingly close places by Brendan and the state my bike is in.
Also, moats, lilies, haze and such.

I haven’t been blagging much, actually. I never really feel the urge to – I only do it when it’s just there.
You’ll notice from my growing Blagroll that more and more of my friends are succumbing.

Peace, I’m out (segues are for losers).
Time for sleep.  I love sleep.

Silent in a heart of steel

Hello, I rarely blog.

That shows that I’m not afraid of blogging, that I am capable of blogging, and most importantly that I can be trusted to do so in moderation.

I’m quite aware that this is too small for adults, now that it’s been scaled to fit my blog.

The other day, I was walking along a cloister, and I passed a limping security guard muttering about how it was at the time “too bloody early in the morning” – though it was in fact early afternoon.  More notable was that he was followed at a short distance by a short (5′7″-ish) Indian man who looked very much like a dark Leon Trotsky.
This doesn’t go anywhere; that’s it.

I had a dream the other day, in which the rear tyre of my bicycle was flat.  The satisfaction you glean from this blog is like some unique drug, it’s dreamshit.  I just conveyed to you an entire dream in that one sentence – and not in such a way that you’d think Martin Luther King Jr. was unfamiliar with punctuation.  Oh, in my dream I kept forgetting that the tyre was flat, and I’d notice en route, and worry that I was damaging the rim.

More recently, I had a dream which may have begun with someone not entirely unlike Stephen Fry, and ended with me feeling profoundly inadequate.  And it had nothing to do with him, though it easily could have.  Stephen Fry makes us all feel inadequate, deep down – but only during our waking hours.

I’m well into reading the third last Hornblower book, and while I thirst for more, I’m also afraid of finishing the series.  C.S. Forester died 42 years ago, and I have no hopes of more.  I shed non-Euclidean tears t_t, they curve with sadness.  You’ve never wept Bézier curves.  Isaac Asimov’s estate authorised three Foundation novels from three of today’s respected Science Fiction authors – and we know how they turned out.

My hands are still very warm, as they have been all year.  We are in late spring, and I am not looking forward to the sweltering heat and swarming flies of summer.  Clare is escaping to Japan, and I will be all Clareless and alone for two months! D:

I’m plotting to hide in her suitcase or disguise myself as her mother, but there are several other people with designs on her luggage, and I’m too tall and hirsute to be her mum.  Also, I can’t speak Japanese. She objects strongly to me selling a kidney, so I’ll be down here, while she’s in the country responsible for Iron Chef.

If we swing away from organ trafficking and dreams (even the one I had at age four where I fell through a manhole down a long tunnel into my own bed through the hatch in the ceiling), I can return to discussing this blog, or perhaps blogging in general. To quote a demotivator, “Never before have so many people with so little to say said so much to so few.”

Also, Fi.  Fi blogs a lot.  If I had a dollar every time she posted a blog, I’d have $202 from the last 4.33 months.  At that rate, it would be $559.82 a year, which is far far below a taxable income.  But as an effortless supplement to any legal wage, it would be lovely.  I’ve noticed a slowing in the last couple of months – perhaps she has less to say, or perhaps she is being distracted by less worthy things such as her schooling, twitter, and her boyfriend.  N’awwwww.

I can ramble all I like.  But I won’t do it through that wretched mouthpiece that is twitter any more than fortnightly.  That’s what you get for slamming down your metaphorical hobnailed boot at 140 characters.

My blog.  My blog does not see me often, nor does it see many readers.

It does get a strange selection of Google search traffic, though.  I’ve taken this from my WordPress dashboard:

Inside my hands these petals browned

So the other day, after seeing the surprisingly excellent WALL·E with Clare, she and I went for yum cha at a Chinese restaurant neither of us had been to before.  She assured me that yum cha was a selection of small dishes, and the internet seems to agree.
Nobody, it seems, told this place, who presented us with an epic amount of food. Food for seven.
It was frightening.
We dealt with a lot of it, and left with the rest in containers.  All is well.

Today, I noticed a discolouration in the sky.  It seemed rather less blue, and rather more a dull lavender than usual, through the clouds.  I consulted Nick who lives a considerable distance to my West Sou’ West, and Kieran who lives a very similar distance directly to my south (oh my, looking at this map, I see we’re equilateral – I don’t think I’m ready for this kind of geometry in my life), and they both agree.
Meanwhile, a friend who is in Melbourne doesn’t.  The light at the time was still white and pure, perhaps a little more yellow…

Cordell says (12:40 PM):

You should be able to see the sky through a large gap in the clouds

Kieran says (12:40 PM):

What, why?

Cordell says (12:40 PM):

Can you do that?
I could swear it’s the wrong colour

Kieran says (12:41 PM):

I get blinded, the sun is in this gap
It looked somewhat grey though

Cordell says (12:41 PM):

HA HA, YOU GOT SUN-ROLLED

Buses in this state are ridiculous.  It took me two and a half hours to get home this evening (three minutes more, to be exact).  153 minutes to travel 16.4km.  To be fair, most of that time was spent waiting.  In real terms, that’s 142 pages of Captain Hornblower’s exciting escapades in South America since yesterday.  And my perception of time is more skewed at a bus stop than anywhere else, and it has been proven to be very good at other times.  I have in the past taken up the habit of walking eleven stops along the line instead of waiting.

Also, Indian cyclists.  Stay out of the bus lane, if you’re reading this.

Will motorists ever stop treating bike lanes like parking lots if they think cyclists don’t themselves respect traffic segregation? I don’t think it will make a difference, motorists aren’t at all observant.

Oh yeah, way to alienate.

Whoever shouts the loudest gets the most attention

I’m faster than a Chihuahua – one decided to chase me as I rode home. It gave up. I was not on a white stallion but a mountain bike, should you be imagining me in a heroic light.

I’m living up my last teenage years, today I met Antho at the library. I returned those books on the Boer War, and took out some on Surrealism.

I’m breaking the habit of putting images at the very end of posts.  Mixing it up.  Because I’m exciting.

This Apple & Kiwi Fruit juice is very good, but is unattractive. It’s opaque and khaki. Like the shirts in the dress uniforms on M*A*S*H, or what you get when you mix all your paint together while washing it down the drain.
When I’m buying a drink, I want to be reminded of American courts martial in the early nineteen-fifties. Surgeons being tried for obscene behaviour make me thirsty, as does Alan Alda. I don’t have to explain why tipping acrylic paints down the drain is appetising.

Do not distress, the long drought of Peach Ice Tea has been remedied.

Today was slightly too warm. The supermarket in Unley has user-operated checkouts now, with a tall guy to watch over them.

Everything is painted woodland grey, except for the trimmings which are a strong green. The floorboards are real, but an unwelcoming dull stain. It’s all modern and clean, but it is neither coloured like a medical research centre or a trendy apartment building.

Bow-ties suit my personality too well for me to wear them. They would take me into the extreme. I should be tempered by my clothing.

I slept well last night.

I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired

Some things make me feel crushed or hollow, other things make me feel wonderful.  In life, right now.

I live in a meaningless void with people I love.

N’aww.

I woke up at 2 AM, it’s 5 PM now, don’t expect me to be coherent.  Crushing stuff is school-based, wonderful stuff is people based.

Also, Sarah Palin is disgusting.  She is a repulsive right-wing extremist, and I am offended that there are people excited “because she is a young woman”.  That’s so patronising, and I am truly disappointed that it seems to be working on some people.

No, I don’t even use segues when I’m awake.

I accidentally downloaded Windows Genuine Advantage, which is facepalm -inducing.  The weather is great.  I’m so tired, I will sleep as soon as I get these boots off.

I’m not sure what drives me to blog when I do.  I’m not apparently waiting for something interesting to say, and I don’t do it regularly.

Mmmm.

I’ve officially had too much of the Boer War.

Currently, my favourite typeface is Trebuchet MS.  Though, I did download a lot of novelty fonts a week or two back.  So I now have a veritable panoply of medieval and variously retro types.  Wow, I must be tired, I must be tiresome.

Why do I do this to you?

Whoever brings the night

Refitting the tread on a bicycle wheel is a bastard.  I got another puncture, you see, on the tube of the rear wheel.

Desktop computers should have small batteries.  If it can run for 20 minutes on its own, it can shut down properly when the power cuts out.  We have a dodgy fuse board or something.  I blame the kettle/Chinese.

I heard another mysterious night-time noise.  It sounded like someone tightly hugging a large plastic barrel in either the next room or in the roof.  I’ve heard it in the early morning and late at night, spread over weeks.

You know the sound of someone squeezing an empty plastic bottle? It’s like that, but suitably louder and deeper.

I drink a lot of Peach Ice Tea, it’s wonderful.  I bought 6 Litres the day before yesterday.  There was a man at the supermarket who looked like Peter Davison, the fifth Doctor.  Except that he was about 6′4″, hunched, and had eyebrows considerably paler than his skin.

I think that’s all?

Oh, being a pedestrian is bad.

Don’t let yourself destroy yourself

At 5:30 this evening, the sunlight was a curious amber.  The clouds were a peach colour, yet the sky behind them was a rich blue.  At the fluffier edges, it blurred into purple, and the stubby yet brightly coloured rainbows in the east.  Slightly surreal, with colours normally associated with HDRI photos.

The overall effect was a mormon propaganda piece. Why the mormons? Well, I notice that their website is quite attractive.

It didn’t rain today.

I went for a walk after dark last night, with no phone or wallet.  Mainly because it was completely spontaneous.  I went through two parks, up a road even bendier than the one I recently discovered (they’d be the same if they were properly lined up), and discovered where my bus turns around.

It’s always muddy in the long thin park with olive trees.

I’ve recently gotten into a pile of new music, and approve of the vastly improved automatic recommendation system on last.fm.

Wow, this was a short one.

But when your heart skips a beat it’s ruthless and aimless

Shocking news: I found a curvy road! (Why yes, I do live in Adelaide, why do you ask?)
I’m serious about this, it was designed with neither a ruler nor a compass.  It’s almost as if it were not planned at all, merely a tarmacked track that was once … organic.  It both undulates and twists, it has massive trees in unusual places, and two-storey houses built into the slope.  It is strangely incongruous with the grid that goes in all directions, as far as buildings go.

I love it here, but I’d hate it if it were in SimCity.  I will have an uninterrupted grid pattern!  My current city is perfect, and it even makes frequent use of those trains with which my Sims have some strange infatuation.  SimCity 3000 Unlimited’s Asian building set really makes my city much more impressive, too.  This means things are taller and shinier, which is what really matters.  SimCity 4, on the other hand, will not let control freaks (the only people playing this series) place their own side-roads.  You have to be tricky with the zoning to fool the computer into putting things where you want them.  Also, it is too complicated.  This is why I cannot be bothered finding out who I am lending my copy to, and then reclaiming it.

My bicycle has had a full servicing from a friend of mine who has an intimate knowledge of bicycles bordering on the concerning.  I hope I will remember how to do everything.  He assures me that stores would charge about $60 for that, and I assured him that the Mi Goreng he got in return was worth that. =)
Aligned brakes and an oiled drive chain mean that my bicycle is now like a ninja – silent.  But less deadly, as the brakes are no longer fail.  “Fail” is an adjective, if you missed that.  It does of course make that quiet clicky noise (not unlike power lines on a humid day) when I’m not pedalling.
I have neglected it for years, but there is no damage, apart from inconsequential corrosion from riding on the beach.  It’s still a good bike, except for the shock absorbers, which will not accept the ring thingies.  This could mean any number of things, but do not fret.  Explanations are a courtesy that you must earn, but you can be assured that this one is not important.

I have new boots, in which I can wriggle my toes.  This is a plus.  I like being able to do that.
There is nothing like new footwear to remind you that your feet are different sizes. Any sneakers which I’ve worn for years have been trained (like bonsai) to fit perfectly.  Also, ankle support.

It is very easy to think (or be distracted) while looking at a waterfall, so I spent about 45 minutes sitting in that park, watching the water.
Also, ducks are cute.

I think that is all.  No, I don’t need to use segues.

A mystery object, large and perplexing! I’m not sure what this is.  It could be a cog – and the only things large enough to take that would be the epic-scaled mining mechs and hydroelectric dams.
On the other hand, it could be a pier for a bridge. A segment of a pier, that is.  And by pier, I mean massive column rather than jetty.

If you know what it is, or have a source, do share it.

Edit: Mystery solved! It’s the Large Hadron Collider, which will destroy everything~
Thanks to the commenter identifying as ‘This’.

Trapped in yourself, break out instead

Ok, I thought I’d cover the holidays, before it gets into the distant past.  It was a two week holiday between terms, and a week has already passed since it finished.  I could have blogged four times while it was happening, but it was a holiday, and I do not think that is time best spent blogging.

I took three friends over to Kangaroo Island at the beginning of the holidays, and this time it was not all on fire.  We were therefore able to go to the tourist spots, which we naturally decided to do on the day with the … least friendly weather.  I will be getting the photos of us leaning into the wind, tomorrow.

There is now a video on YouTube of me at Remarkable Rocks, in a corridor type formation, struggling against very strong wind.  You can hear their laughter, as it begins to hail, and I scream in pain.  This is, I think, the third video with me in it.  The first currently has 28,499 views merely because a certain someone uploaded it with a misleading name.

I put on a few kilos, which I have already lost.  All have conceded that both of my parents are excellent cooks.

We played Risk a couple of times, and there was much stomping of Ukraine.  We did this during Rugby matches and late night films.  Oh, we watched some good films, we watched some fun films, we watched an atrocity.

And to put this atrocity in perspective, The Godfather and V for Vendetta are good, Ninja Turtles II: Secret of the Ooze and Turbo: A Power Rangers Movie go in the “fun” category.  Yes, the 1992 Jim Henson Ninja Turtles film has the best opening sequence ever, involving a teen pizza deliveryman who knows martial arts fighting a large mob of thieves.  Did I mention that he’s asian?  The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles intervene, there are giant flowers, a snapping turtle, a wolf, a Samurai who lives in a car yard and Vanilla Ice doing the Ninja Rap.

Anyway, in Turbo, the lion Munchkin wizard creature from the planet with a blue filter was captured by the scantily clad woman who lives in a submarine with mutants, where the Munchkin’s mate and child are being held hostage.  He then reluctantly takes her to an island in a parallel dimension, so she can marry a lava monster (which she begins to have doubts about).  Being the “Queen of Evil” is not quite worth being married to a sentient molten rock formation.

Of course, the Power Rangers must also go to this parallel dimension, which they achieve by somehow getting their Zords (Transformers cars) onto the Ghost Ship.  Yes, a dilapidated wooden ship will take them to another dimension.

Did I mention that the police are stupid, the blue ranger is a child (yes, it’s a film of that season), and the pink ranger has an Australian accent?

Anyway, there are fight scenes, explosions, mecha fight scenes, dodgy cuts, volcanoes erupting and a bald man’s head in a giant tube..  If that doesn’t make sense, the good guys win.

So, that was the fun and bad one.  What about the atrocity I mentioned? I should skip to the far side of the next picture now, if I were you.  It’s more fun that way.

It is called Soul Plane, and stars ‘Snoop Dogg’ as an ex-con who was trained to fly by terrorists.  This is the poorest taste film I have ever seen.

When a man who is not Chris Tucker is stuck to a toilet seat in an aeroplane, and through the window sees his dog being sucked into a turbine, mid-flight, the jury of a civil court awards him one hundred million dollars.  I’m shocked that anyone would misrepresent the court system so.

This sounds like a lot of money, but it is not enough to build ‘Terminal X’ (or ‘Terminal Malcom X’ for long), buy a heavily customised full-size jumbo jet painted in purple livery, and hire a full crew.  A white family is transferred to the maiden flight, and they too are terrible caricatures.  The jet has hydraulics.  And I mean the pointless kind that rice-cars have, along with sub-woofers and furry dice.

I … don’t want to talk about how bad it is, any more.  It has the most juvenile humour I’ve ever come across.

I’m disgusted.  I’m insulted.

I’m ashamed for everyone in it.

It’s the most racist film I’ve ever seen.  The co-pilot is African, and there is a Muslim on the plane.  What is the least tasteful way these characters could be treated?  They did it.  They did it to women, blind people, white people, gays, and every black stereotype yet.  And I hate them all, and they deserve it.  The characters are all repulsive.

We laughed less and less, as we realised that it wasn’t going to get any better. I’m going to give you some links with which to follow this up, as I’m washing my hands of this.

(Link) IMDb User Comments

I am agreeing with the negative ones, naturally.  You can also look it up on Wikipedia if you like, but they are expected to follow the neutrality policies.

This is ruined now.  I don’t feel like blogging about the other awesome things we did, or things that have happened since.  Not how warm my hands are or a strange dream I had.

I may be gone for some time.  I hope this hasn’t spoiled everything.

I’d like to point out that we spent more time watching good movies than bad, and we had fun.  It was 2 in the morning, and this crime against man seemed funny at the time.

Nothing to do with me.

I’m ambivalent to Last.fm’s new look.  Some things are massively improved, but a lot of things are disappointing.  Unlike deviantArt, which looks better than ever – which is just great, for a site I never use.

DDoS, on my 4chan?

Yeah, so.  We’re back at school, and seeing everyone again is great.  Some lessons are dread.

Ooh, we had bonfires, to burn all the wattle that had fallen in the storm.

The title of this post is a lyric.  I’d be a bad person not to tell you that.