Failure to Launch, failure to even get the rocket on the fucking pad.

To tell you the truth, I don't know why I called her. I knew that we would end up just talking about her weekend and how that guy came down from Sydney to fuck her, and not about how I had feelings for her like I said I did on Friday. More breath and brain space wasted, I may as well just stand on the corner and spoon that shit out like some weird pink and grey ice cream delivery service, all the while becoming slowly retarded as I give myself a lobotomy.

It really is all about me you know. I could beat my head against a wall of women and all I would get is a loving concussion. Oh I am tired and should have taken that Valium when I had the chance. At least then I could have slept.

I wish I could eat properly at the moment. I get so outrageously hungry, then as soon as food is on my plate the hunger evaporates. Its killing me. I'm back to midnight cereals and taking bananas to bed with me in case I wake up hungry. Which reminds me, I have to buy some more bananas.

I had a pretty culture filled weekend. I saw Fischerspooner on Friday night, they were ok. It went from alright to awesome and then just ok and then pretty good then just ok again. If only it was consistent. I didn't get to bed until about 4 so I spent Saturday feeling like I was hung over but without the drinking that goes with it. I slept, played some video games, cleaned the house, ate, went to bed. It was... nice. On Sunday a friend and I saw the Ricky Swallows exhibition at the Ian Potter gallery. It was pretty amazing although after talking to some 'arty' people I am beginning to think that perhaps not so amazing. Apparently he has a lot of helpers who aren't mentioned in any of the articles, still, the work was very beautiful. It's sculpture, a lot of wood carving, and for some of it the quality of work is absolutely fantastic, I'll give him that.

I think the high-light of my weekend though was seeing the movie Moon with Sam Rockwell. I love my sci-fi and this film was absolutely wonderful. Nothing huge and no mega mind blowing special effects, in fact, I think a lot of the effects are models as opposed to CGI or anything like that. Do they even call it CGI anymore? Who knows. Whatever, all that counts is that it was a great film and not to be missed. Sam Rockwell is the man. For rizzle. I would move to the moon, if only for the desolation.

Between all of these activities I though about her, her thighs, her hair, her eyes. I set myself up for quite a fall, for no reason other than it kept my mind busy. I wonder now what I will think about to avoid thinking about her, quantum physics perhaps, maybe design something new and inventive that everybody's been waiting for. Maybe some new type of douche bag that I can name after myself, you know, just for laughs.

This blog is beginning to sound a lot like diary, which I don't like. Unless its Dylan Klebolds diary, which in that case is fine.

What I really want at the moment is to be inspired and I guess what smarts (to use a term from 1989 American TV) is that this girl, well, inspires me. I think about her and suddenly my minds all 'lay entangled in bed sheets and emotions' or how her skin is like milk and how my tongue longs to taste her sweat. She makes me want to write poetry again, poems that no one will ever read but will be written anyway, poems about skin and bodily fluids, poems about sex and love and all in between.

And let us not forget how desperate I am to fuck her. She conjures such rampant images of sex in my brain that its like a stampede at a brothel. Unrelenting. What is the name of that weird human emotion that makes me want to fuck her until her eyes roll back in her head and then hold her as she falls asleep and the hypnogagic twitches start.

I doubt there is a name really, people generally don't name things that they only experience in their imaginations. Except for kids, and they suck anyway.

I just re-read both this and my last entry and realised they are basically the same. Here's where i'd say something like 'Fuck I hate me' but I was told that this blog is very much a self indulgent rant. So fuck it, back on hiatus I go. See you when I could be bothered and feel that I can actually contribute to the culture of greatness instead contributing to the culture of mediocrity.

Circle around and come back for more.

So this is the second time that I've attempted this blog, I wrote one yesterday but then discarded it at the last moment. It wasn't very good, in fact, it was down right shit. So here I go again.

I looked after my nephew on the weekend. It was good although these bloody teenagers, its hard to know when they are bored or having fun, their faces remain the same. It was difficult to tell whether I pissed him off or pleased him. I can only assume he had a good time, I haven't received any angry phone calls so it must have been ok.

So a few posts ago I did an entry called Hotel California where I talked about an abandoned hotel that me and my friend went to. My very own personal photographer has put up some photos on his blog, check them out. It's very difficult to tell your friends that what they are doing is amazing with out sounding like you are sucking up their arse for some reason. The thing is, I love the direction that he is taking with his photos. He has a good eye and somehow manages to capture the feeling of whatever it is that he's shooting. Although I provided links to some flikr accounts, his pictures are better. I look forward to what The Future brings.

You know what I haven't been in a while? In love. I realised that I love, but I'm not in love. And it doesn't matter how much I love, if its unrequited then it means nothing. Saying that, I just spent 10 minutes on the phone with the girl I'm cultivating a crush on discussing her up coming weekend and how she is finally going to be able to fuck the guy she's been after. Yeah, it was a truly wonderful phone call. It reminds me of the time I had to listen to that girl that I was in love with get fucked by that dude that I secretly considered a douche bag. Yeah, that was awesome too. And he still has my Bumfights DVD, douche bag.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, L O V E love. That feeling you get when the person that you desire comes into your field of vision, like you stomach is about to take flight, like you are about to experience something amazingly wonderful. That giddy light headed feeling that could be love, could be a stroke.

And that's all the analogies that I could think of. Perhaps its better that I am not in love, it does not seem like I have much to offer anyone. You know how it is with love, it's all, like, exciting and shit.

I can lust though, that's something I can do. Oh I lust like there's no tomorrow. Perhaps if I wasn't serving such top quality trim all day then maybe I wouldn't be lusting so much. For instance, I just watched a hot Irish girl try on some jeans and play with her own ass in the mirror. Is it any fucking wonder I can't sleep at night?

And to think I abandoned the other blog because it was too depressing.

It ain't just for the young and disillusioned.

Today is a day I long to talk about depressing things, not because I am depressed, but because I will be if I don’t air them out like some wet coat I’ll go all moldy both inside and out and I don’t want that. I need not to smell like piss and decay, I already feel like that is what I am made out of.

So in interesting news one of my grandmothers tried to kill herself with an overdose of pills on the weekend. No, not the one that we all don’t like, the other one that only some of us like. I actually had to ask my cousin when she told me, “Should I be upset over this?” I know I know, I am weird and cold and emotionally removed. But hey, it’s life in the 21^st century, you need to be to remain stable. Apparently she has severe depression. There is a chance she may have a heart attack due to the drugs they had to give her to counteract the drugs she had taken. I figure this would be a win for her. As you know, I am a firm, supporter, if not advocator, of suicide. So I hope that this goes her way, because it’s pretty selfish of us to sit here and say “Oh noes, stay here alive in this life that you don’t like, it will make us feel better.” She is well and truly adult so she can with her life what she wants, and if she wants to end it, so be it.

I am expecting a visit from a friend. I use the term expecting as loosely as possible. I am hoping for a visit from her, I expect nothing. And I made myself ever so available.

On other not so new news, I am desperate for a piece of ass. If I have one more sexy dream I will officially have the libido of a 15yr old boy. It’s like the throttle is open, it just keeps ramping itself up. Everybody I encounter gets this thought about them; “Can I fuck you?” It’s getting crazy, I’m worried that someone will look at me the wrong way and in response I will just flop it out. And by it I mean my dick. I just had to pull myself back from flirting OUTRAGEOUSLY with a mature customer from New Zealand. I’ll give her some new zeal. I am my very own motivational poster.

Erections; I have one.

I saw a band called Metric on the weekend. Oh my fucking god. They were amazingly awesome. When I get over excited my vocabulary tends to be of the 14yr old valley girl variety so here’s some words that you can use to describe how the gig was. Wicked, awesome, excellent, bootylicious (?), mega, rocked out, it rocked, killer bee, tubular dude etc etc. I didn’t really get where I was going with that but hey, like any brave adventurer I struck out, one lost foot after the other.

What I am trying to day here, I guess, is that not only were Metric as tight as a drum but enthusiastic and professional as well. Really, a super super gig.

And so I leave you with perhaps my favourite lyric of theirs, from a song that they did not play. It’s called ‘Calculation theme’ and I have always wanted to lie in bed coming down off pills with someone, listening to this song. When it is over, we’ll fuck, slowly and methodically, until we fall asleep in each others arms. I do not ask for much.

Tonight your ghost will ask my ghost, where is the love?

Tonight your ghost will ask my ghost, who put these bodies between us?