J's Journal

J's Journal

Pinflux

[	website	\|	My DeviantArt site!	]
[	userinfo	\|	livejournal userinfo	]
[	archive	\|	journal archive	]

Why I wasn't at the Zoo

[Mar. 3rd, 2006|01:16 pm]

[	mood	\|	content	]
[	music	\|	Orbital - Kein Trink Wasser	]

The weather conspires against me in a dreadful way on occasion.

Today was the first Freelance Zoo trip of the year. I woke up bright and early, imagining all the widdle animals with a hearty smile plastered to my face. I rolled out of bed, crawled to the shower, made myself clean, pulled my way up to the bench to make lunch, then squirmed to the window before realising that it was pouring down outside.

‘Ah well’, thought I, ‘No watching the laziest lions known to man today’, and squelched back to my room. Lo and behold, clear blue skies and rays of sunny goodness replaced the horrible morning in the blink of a weary eye. I raised one eyebrow to my PC in the ‘that’s a bit odd’ kind of manner and made myself ready to leave again.

Dragging myself out to the bus stop, I tried to come to grips with the fact that the sky was once again black and urinating down. I waited at the stop for five minutes, but the more I admired the way the rain fell in giant vertical sheets the less I felt like walking in it. Deciding that the benefits I would reap from spending $4 on bus tickets, walking for at least four hours in the rain, trying to protect my headphones from electronic water damage wherever possible, and attempting to ignore the shameless shenanigans of unscrupulous apes just weren’t worth it.

So I flopped back to my room again. Half an hour later the weather cleared up, and it’s been beautiful outside ever since.

*shakes fist at the sky*

link

3 comments|post comment

I don't manage to get on the Internet here much

[Feb. 19th, 2006|02:37 am]

[

music

Michiru Oshima & Pentagon - Coffin

]

Last few days have been eventful.

Dane came over today to check out the new house and do nothing. Doing nothing was something along the lines of me strapping him to the couch and making him watch 3 episodes of Firefly in a row, which he seemed to enjoy (for I monitored him closely). We made faces in the mirror, and then I burnt a plastic spoon to one of the ovens' elements. It went sticky, and bits seeped through the holes.

I had to help stop two transvestite prostitutes from killing each other on the street at 1 a.m. last night. One was bashing the other's head in with a stilleto heel she was weilding, and when I say 'on the street', I do indeed mean the pushed down onto the tarmac variety. I was glad when a homeless man came along to break up the fight, but he too became quickly aggressive and threatened to kick one in the face right there and then if she didn't shut her mouth. All I could really do was scream and pray, and try to calm the man down by talking to him about his banana-cake allergies while the others treated one lady's head wounds in the van. Substance abuse ain't pretty folks, and it's more than a little sad to see what happens to some people when raised in the wrong environment.

I somehow got a Daily Deviation on Deviantart the other day. I logged on and was met with 230 messages, which I thought was a mistake at first. When I came to realise that it wasn't, I muttered quite a few 'holy crap's, 'no way's, and 'oh my gosh's.

I'm getting close to finishing my new song, though I'm scared about falling into old habits and becoming stale already! Dane showed me how to make breakbeats today though, which is going to be amazingly fun to play around with I suspect.

This is my 2-in-the-morning typing voice by the way, so please excuse the croakiness.

Night!
J

link

3 comments|post comment

The art of destroying oneself	[Feb. 13th, 2006\|12:09 am]
I ran most of the way home from church tonight. From my brief brush with this particular form of physical activity I have discovered things. Interesting things. I would recommend the act of propelling oneself bipedally at a speed greater than the average walk IF: A) You wish to arrive at your destination in a shorter amount of time. B) You want to become more fit, or lose some weight. If you are currently on the wrong end of both, cross out the line above, as you will invariably spend a greater amount of time recovering before you reach your destination than you would take to walk it in the first place. You will also waste another four minutes and $2 on a drink at a dairy along the way. C) You enjoy the feeling of your lungs setting themselves on fire before trying to escape your insides in protest. D) The smell of sickly musty sweat is one that you appreciate. E) You've been deemed clinically insane. The weekend: Cleaning old people's ceiling - pretty fun. Lantern festival - way too crowded. Dan's party - cool bands, had to leave too soon. SSBM 3 player - darn fun. X-men vs Street Fighter - dumb. J
link	1 comment\|post comment

Naked Women are Offensive	[Feb. 10th, 2006\|11:13 pm]
So I guess I’m out of the contest, limping in at last place and all that. Last night I was just completely zonked, arriving home from Base at around 11:30 having spent the whole day drawing. Not to say I’m going to stop attempting to post every day mind, I just don’t have to worry if I don’t manage it! (As I say this, the bad half of my brain is trying to tell me that there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep it up without purpose). Today was the first life drawing day of this year. For the first time since the dawn of course we spent the whole day on regular old life drawing, sketching life model Vicky in different poses with varying levels of drapery (read: insanity). The awkward point of the day was where she dropped the N-word. The class was in deep discussion regarding baby names by the afternoon, and once Michael Jackson’s kids were mentioned the naked lady in the centre of the class piped in. ‘How could they be completely pale with blond hair? They’re obviously not his kids. Michael Jackson’s a ni&%er!’ * It was around this point in time where the gentle murmur of the class was replaced with a cold shocked silence. Remedies were quickly sought after, with a couple of people continuing the Michael Jackson talk (possibly oblivious to what she just said), one guy not too subtly changing the subject as loudly as he could, and Dane just letting out a ‘Let’s jump on the racism train shall we?’ It was a strange and turbulent time. There’s not much more bizarre than a naked woman standing completely still in class whilst spouting such objectionable and offensive material. That’s probably not true, there’s bound to be tonnes of stuff more bizarre than that, but let’s not rain on my creeped-out little parade eh? On a less racist note, my little cousin must be on speed or something. I went to my Aunties birthday tonight, and four year old Brayden was worked into a frenzy that just never stopped. He’d go from catwalks to fist fights to breakdancing to dragon slaying in the space of ten seconds, and that’s just by himself in the lounge. So cute, but he’s making me feel old. J * For those that find these newfangled censored swears a mite tricky, try replacing the ampersand with the letter ‘g’, and doing likewise with the percentage symbol.
link	1 comment\|post comment

Drawing is cool	[Feb. 8th, 2006\|11:57 pm]
Because of the fact, I've been doing it instead of writing. Stupid me! Mike's group of three in the 3rd year class at FAS have named themselves Mazland. They've begun a journal with written accounts of the formation and history of their 'country'. More recently they have discovered in the distant reaches of the classroom ocean the land of the Neskibros. The four Neskibros stretch across the far end of the class, and consist of a nice even mix of ethnicity as Dane pointed out to me. Starting with Dane on the right and moving leftward we have a black classical student, then a white CGI student, then a black classical student, and finally a white CGI student. The tutors must be laughing behind our backs. This is the third year I've had the pleasure of being in Megan McKenzie's class. She is the most humourous-without-meaning-to-be person I know, and a lovely individual to boot. It's become tradition to begin writing a list of the bizarre things she says at some point during the first term, though never before has the list started out on the second day of class. I let several hilarious things slide today in the sake of tradition, but I just had to begin prematurely when she mentioned that cats were always obnoxious but she had noticed that they were 'getting a lot better lately'. Crackers! J
link	post comment

I shouldn't leave blogging to the last minute...	[Feb. 7th, 2006\|11:47 pm]
Specially not till after a fierce and gruelling half-hour match of super smash brothers. Have I ever mentioned that I reserve the right to exaggerate events that happen in real life, possibly even making some things up just for the sake of it? If it wasn't plainly obvious I think I better warn you guys now. Not that the match I just had wasn't fierce, gruelling, or half an hour long. On the contrary, it was all three. I just thought I'd mention my over-the-top storytelling tendencies before anyone started to think I actually got married and had a leg bitten off. Marriage eh... An interesting topic (almost as interesting as girls), but not one I'll be blabbing about tonight. As if I'd let the whole world in on my woman-winning secrets anyway. Sheesh... Pay me money and I might write a book, but until then you'll have to wade through the lonely waters of uncertainty and singledom. Money would be nice though. First day of course today. Ridiculous amounts of stationary were thrown at me to my great delight. We even got freakin' tackle boxes! Tackle boxes! It makes no sense, but this is the Freelance Animation School so there's no big surprises there. My mind is in overtime thinking about my 3rd year project. At one random point today, I couldn't help smiling and squealing and clenching my hands into fists and kinda falling to the ground. I was just that darned excited. Tomorrow we get to teach the lil first years, and it still seems amazing that I'm now one of the big kids that (supposedly) knows what he's doing. They probably need a little smacking around after all, and I know that the tutors are legally obliged to keep their nimble animating fingers off 'em. By the way, it seems Dane's pounced onto the big 'ole blogging bandwagon too, and he's even in the one-post-day-keeps-the-brain-cells-at-bay posting marathon. I should be getting to sleep, but before I do I must draw your attention to the fact that bagpipes are just too flippin' cool. Rock Rock on! J
link	post comment

Back Online.

[Feb. 6th, 2006|11:42 pm]

[

music

Forlon / cubus - Esh Interlude (cubus remix)

]

The wonderful world of the 56k modem has beckoned me back to the web. Bliss.

I've moved into the new flat, and so far it's been pretty fun. We have a security system that goes 'beep...beep...beep..beeeeeeeeep' and a slot car set. We're soon to have a foosball table, when David moves down. Unfortunately, it seems he's not going to be here for another couple of weeks due to his work. I say unfortunately because he's the one that seems to know how to set up phone and internet accounts, fix broken things, organise the flat-type things that need organising, and tie shoelaces. At the moment it's just me and Ryan running around in circles in the kitchen, making a mess and occasionally crashing into each other for comic effect.

My little brother Hamish flew back from Japan yesterday. John kindly offered me a lift to the airport, and we patiently waited the two freakin' hours it took for him to get off the plane and appear. He looked different, being slightly taller and with a noticeably bigger nose, and now had a voice deeper than mine. He seemed perplexed by New Zealand living, proclaiming that margarine wasn't usually this yellow and that bread is much thicker than this. I forgave him once he handed over the Gundam Wing collectable he had bought for me.

He left this afternoon, and in no time I was whisked away by Mike and Mike, who had come to collect us for the premiere of their zombie film. I was lucky enough to be the head zombie in the film, and also to score music alongside Dane the maestro. All was good, and I was pleasantly surprised by the result. Debbie's scream still creeps me the crap out.

Tomorrow 3rd year begins! I'm both excited, scared, and nervous. Yes, both.

J

My lyrics to the song that Dane did:

The sun
Is breaking through the clouds
Is playing on your crown
Oblivious to us ascending

Now
The oxygen erupts
And starlight so abruptly
Envelops us with sparkling splendour

Find
The problems in our path
Burn away and fall to earth
Sin is worldly and content to

Stay
As we soar away
And time erases nothing
But its all behind us now

Thought I should chuck that down here so I can throw away the bit of paper I've written them down on.

link

1 comment|post comment

	[Feb. 1st, 2006\|12:38 am]
Omigosh, I almost forgot to post a blog. I'll spit out a short one while Dane waits for the topless lady to get colourful. She's already colourful for me, see. Today I packed. I really did. I spent the morning shoving little things into bigger things, and moving the bigger things into the hall. If all goes swimmingly, these bigger things will be crammed into an even bigger thing tomorrow. That thing will travel to Mt Eden, where I'll take the bigger things back out of the even bigger thing and put them inside an absolutely massive thing. The massive thing will be my residence for the next year. It's a nice brick place, four bedrooms (ranging from spacious to spaceless) complete with a study and fireplace. Something tells me neither of those will get much use, unless we get a cat. I can't believe how unorganised this whole process has been though! We still haven't sorted out power, internet, phone, and don't know who gets what room. It was decided a few weeks back that we go 'survivor' and camp out in a single room, the only excursions being those to the lavatory. The last to bail out and go brush their teeth would get to choose the room that they want, second to last gets to choose next etc. The browner the chompers the bigger the room, in layman’s terms. I think the idea was scrapped for something else that involved a state of mind Ryan referred to as 'sanity'. Actually, it was my idea to have the two in small rooms swap with the other two halfway through the year, and I hope that's still the case, because it was my idea and mine are usually the greatest. I imagine there will be a conversation around April that'll go something like this: James: 'Whose idea was it to change rooms halfway through the year? Seems like a good plan' J: 'Ah, it was mine, I know' I've lived in the Dean Street Flat for two whole years now. Two years! If it wasn't for the sleep caking my retinas I'd probably be getting all misty-eyed and nostalgic about now. I've had many good times here, though almost everyone that was present at the forging of the flat January 2004 has come and gone. Snatched jobs and partners too, the soppy bunch. So...what will this next installment in J's life bring? Only time and money will tell! So much for a short blog. :/ J
link	post comment

The Procrastination List

[Jan. 30th, 2006|09:54 pm]

[

music

Death Cab For Cutie - Crooked Teeth

]

One of the great things about having to blog every day is the procrastination if affords me. When I know I 'have' to have a blog done before the next morning, I can shove those other things that need doing back a bit in my schedule. The method in which any one person with a brain larger than a pinecone should approach a to-do list is as following:

Most Important Task > Least Important Task

...where the most important task fits snugly at the top of the list, the second most important sits directly below, the third blah blah blah, right down to cutting ones toenails at the bottom. Move that one further up the list if you find yourself inadvertently burrowing through the front of your shoes towards daylight.
My personal approach to the system is as follows:

Most Fun Task > Most Dumb Task

This method is not unique. In fact, it's almost guaranteed that everyone follows this guideline every now and again, depending on how important their particular tasks are. However, not many can claim to following it 100% of the time. I am one of these people.

As an example of my ludicrious psyche, I'll compile a fake list of tasks that need doing and order them in my usual manner.

The Unarranged List:

Eat an entire BBQ pizza

Re-stock the dwindling supply of milk and bread

Finish the nights maths homework

Draw a pretty girl for the heck of it

Escape the raging inferno that engulfs the flat

Following the well-trod school of sensibility, this is how the list should be ordered.

The Sensible List:

Escape the raging inferno that engulfs the flat

Finish the nights maths homework

Re-stock the dwindling supply of milk and bread

Draw a pretty girl for the heck of it

Eat an entire BBQ pizza

Now lets see what I would really do with such an enviable array of tasks!

The Real List:

Draw a pretty girl for the heck of it

Re-stock the dwindling supply of milk and bread

Finish the nights maths homework

Escape the raging inferno that engulfs the flat

Eat an entire BBQ pizza

It's not hard to see that I'm going to end up with bad working relationships, a failed education, and serious 3rd degree burns if I don't change something fast.

I think what I originally logged on to say was, I meant to start packing my stuff for moving this morning, but it's 10pm already and I haven't even begun because I keep finding things to distract me. I haven't started cooking dinner either, I should probably get on that. Right after I draw this pretty girl...

J

link

2 comments|post comment

EAT POOP YOU CAT! Game 2 Complete!	[Jan. 30th, 2006\|01:36 am]
Get out your walking sticks, chuck in your false teeth, and come witness the final results! I sent the first email out in mid-2005, and more than half a year later it's finished. 30% of the blame for this appalling display of time-management rests on the participants that took forever to finish their entries, and the remainding 55%(?) rests on me for being lazy and giving up on the project after a certain point. But let's stop placing blame shall we? Just get off my freaking back! Geez! And without further adieu, I present the 2nd NZ mass-poop exercise! *The first story:* It was the year 2662. Crime and tax rates were at an all-time high, and the poor nation of Jungleonia suffered terribly under the rule of King Leotard the 4th. Under the weight of such fearsome oppression, Jimmy the toaster cracked; He donned a cape, armed himself with a 6-barrelled gatling gun, and took to the skies in a valiant attempt to rid the world of King Leotard’s tyranny forever, not forgetting to drag along his faithful but highly-allergic-to-almost-anything kitten sidekick. *The last story:* Eastern and Western religion team up to conquer the evil skeleton art-dealer and his treechicken Sidney. A terrible battle battle begins to rage on a desolate field of shrubbery. The Entire Thing: Jeremy It was the year 2662. Crime and tax rates were at an all-time high, and the poor nation of Jungleonia suffered terribly under the rule of King Leotard the 4th. Under the weight of such fearsome oppression, Jimmy the toaster cracked; He donned a cape, armed himself with a 6-barrelled gatling gun, and took to the skies in a valiant attempt to rid the world of King Leotard’s tyranny forever, not forgetting to drag along his faithful but highly-allergic-to-almost-anything kitten sidekick. Ryan Luke The evil Toaster-Man with the dead pet cat flies in to destroy his foe the king money bags. “Hahaha!”, Toaster-Man shoots at the king with his machine gun to stop him from getting his daily earnings from the people of the forest who aren’t too happy with the “no drugs” policy in place. Damn king!!! But the forest people still work for him cause they get paid good. Rachel Katie The sun shone brightly. A poor drowned cat was pulled out of its resting place in the alpine lake by Evil Flying Toaster. Fat Mr Money Bags, aka Mr Monopoly, tried to bribe the cat away from Evil Flying Toaster with a large money bag, but came face to face with Evil Flying Toaster’s even larger gun. Several little munchkins who also happened to be Mr Money Bags henchmen, were wandering harmlessely under the nearby pine trees. However, their sense of ease was disturbed by the sight of a sign that warned them of stray planets and rocket ships that might be also wandering through the forest. Garth Jamie Boom! The moon falls to the ground. Oh no! It looks like someone was right underneath where it landed! What is going on? The happy sun (with buck teeth), lights up the scene below. Round beach ball man can be seen standing on top of the sign, he is holding a bag of money. He also has a top hat on, and is wearing a suit. A strange image is drawn on the sign… The moon marching towards a rocket! All of this action forces Sally and Sam, the overweight people with no arms, out of their tree. They look confused as they try to figure out what is going on. Tim the cat is suddenly snatched from his nearby mountain lake by May, a rather angry looking flying toaster. The cat is flown towards where the moon has just fallen, and the toaster holds his ray gun ready. Shaun Dane One happy, sunny day, Herbert decided to open a national park. He filled it with trees and strange animals resembling featureless geometric shapes, with small legs with which to carry themselves about. They would roam the park through the majestic trees, and people would visit the park and admire them. This earned Herbert sacks full of money, with which he was able to purchase a fancy black suit, a top hat, a red tie, and numerous varieties of fatty foods that he ate till he become rather round and fat. But then tragedy struck, as his arch nemesis, Mortimer the Flying Toaster came hurtling towards the animals, wildly waving a red and green 'flag-of-war'. Yage tied a cat to himself with a piece of rope, which dangled bellow him as he flew through the skies above the national park. Startled by this bizzare spectacle, one of the geomteric-shape-creatures, big, round and grey like an elephant, tripped and fell. The creature was badly injured, and from it's fatal wound it bled to death. Two visitors looked upon this horrific sight, absolutely mortified. Erin Jason Spike Sticke was quietly walking through his favourite native forest, when he noticed something he had never noticed before… Crazy shaped animals were living in the forest! After just losing his job, Spike was on a downward spiral and didn’t even have clothes on his back, and when he saw the crazy animals he thought to himself... strange animals.... exotic food... people would pay a lot to eat exotic food! Spikes plan resulted in large amounts of money which he used to buy a snazzy black suit and red tie, but his addiction to drugs also made him binge eat on the very product he was selling; Spike got very fat. One day a letter came in the mail. It seemed that the strange shapes had been hunted to near extinction - Spike was stressing, Only one type of strange shape survived… the world was in an uproar! Life without spikes magic shapes to eat? As the last shape died and Spikes empire crumbled, all mother earth could do was scream at the desecration of yet another species by human greed and corruption. Mike Joel Patrick the Nomad Bum was walking through the forest in his spotted underpants, to his surprise, he wasn’t alone... A one eyed Sqazzlerock with a spiky tail, hooves and one eye leapt out and 'aggressed' him. Patrick had an idea... Patrick knowing a red headed French chef decided to market the Sqazzlerock heads in an upmarket restaurant. The money rolled in and the heads were a huge success. Unfortunately for Patrick it was soon discovered that the heads led to death. The now obese and rich Patrick tried to calm the people, but it was too late. The mass execution of the remaining Sqazzlerocks began, Patrick was shunned by people all over the world, and his fortune was gone overnight. Cory Zoe Where had my clothes dissapeared to? I didn't know. What I did know, was that I was on an epic quest to reclaim them. And my quest had led me here, the oddly named FOREST OF DOOM! Was I scared? I was shitting my pants. Did I want my clothes back? Heck, yes! So I ventured onward feeling a presence eyeing me throughout. It was a monster. The monster IGOSA, and he lunged at me, his single eye wide with fury and hunger. But in reality my naked state had caused me to misjudge. The fury was happiness, the hunger: love, and Igosa was actually my old pet iguana. The forest hazardous waste must have mutated him. I was sorry I had got rid of him. So sorry I had an idea. Yatta! It's so Ea-sy! I had ...A PLAN. It involed a handful of men. Or more specifically one man. That man? Me. Come with me now, as we imagine my plan. I stutted proudly into Bon Fanstique! (a flashy french resturant, smelling strongly of cinammin, with a hint of the unknown) Monsieur Fantastique! I have brought you a marvelous meal for you to serve your patrons! I call it: Good a la yum! I presented him the slain body of my quasi-iguana, beaming proudly, hoping he wouldn't notice my lack of formal attire. And of course he wouldn't.He'd be over joyed with my kind offering. He'd give me a sack of money. He'd buy me a suit. A nice one. One that had its own drink despenser. That despensed beer. Endlessly. In my coat. Right there. I'd be like, Oh I want some beer, and it'd be right there. Just like that. I'd pose in it. Valiantly. What if the hazardous waste had left the iguana poisoned? no doubt you ask. No matter, I'll rob the customers too! Look at that horrendously fat woman with that adorable hat! I'll sqeal, and quickly mount it onto my own brilliant head of luxurious hair. How sweet it will be. It was sweet, my plan running without hitch. I ran. Me and my money sack. Just us, we were free! We were clothed! I ran. I ran straight into what appeared to be an angry mob. It sure was. You killed my aunty! Screamed a boy. You trampelled the Sacred forest of Doom! You stole my iguana when I was 12, you killed it, fed it to people, and killed them! I didn't really see what that had to do with anything. But by now they had taken the money, beat me senseless, and shredded my clothes. Leaving my ego in shatters, My flesh vulnerable to the night air, And beer despensing dreams - unrealised. They ran off trampling the forest as they did, I was shelterless also. I caught a fish. And pondered life's mysteries. I thought of a plan. Of an epic quest. Oh yes, I had a plan. Lets imagine..... Oliver Hayley The Extremely Out Of Proportion Tuatara With Horn (ExtremusHornius) roared as the woman drove her poking stick into the creatures neck. The roar caused the trees to tremble and leaves to fly from the branches, tastefully and PG-16-ly covering the woman’s naked body. “I have interpreted you as a biohazard, you must die!!” screamed the woman, pointing at the symbol on the tuataras neck. “Yeah, well,” replied the tuatara, trying to ignore the BLINDING PAIN in his neck, “You think I have problems? At least I’m halfway dressed and I’m not wearing a hat that went out of date in like the 1690’s.” Nick Karl Mrs Brownnipple belived that harnessing the blood of the Giant low-res horned iguana would help make her fertile (as anything with such a phallic symbol sticking out of its head does) However the lizard had been deemed a biohazard and the only way to safely draw its blood was to wear a stupid looking hat and rub the tree with the white flowers. The tree would then grow a new branch, and jab a big red triangle into the iguana safely extracting it’s bright red juices. Unfortunately this causes the iguana’s eyes to fall out, as well as whatever was between it’s eyes, so you can see right through it’s head.... Leo Gabrielle Big-busted, bespectacled, sensible-shoe-wearing Granny-May had an insane hatred for iguanas. This hatred was so insane that as soon as she saw our hero, the yin-yan-loving, radioactive Iguana Dude, she punched him. Poor yin-yan-loving, radioactive Iguana Dude was taken by surprise and went sprawling, spluttering dust. Big-busted, bespectacled, sensible-shoe-wearing and now mysteriously-hat-wearing Granny-May then picked up yin-yan-loving, radioactive Iguana Dude, and pummeled him some more. Poor yin-yan-loving, radioactive Iguana Dude. He started crying. He cried so much that his eyes fell out. Kate Rick The radioactive tuatara stood victoriously over his bewildered and slowly dying opponent. He could taste the vile creatures blood in his mouth, but he didn’t care. He stood proud as his cape fluttered in the wind, its emblem visable to all. He stared down in disgust at the pathetic mess of a person in front of him, watching the life pass from its eyes. Just as he was about to turn and walk away the lifeless body below him regained conciousness as if returning from the dead, striking the bemused radioactive tuatara down with dreadful force. Emma David The Adventures of Radioactive Lizard Man continue… Blood drips from his sodden lips, he is angry. He surveys the corpse. “The God’s must be Crazy!” he exclaims. The jovial sun beats down upon the scene, grass and tree in place. Suddenly, the corpse becomes less of a corpse and more of a person who is alive. Surprised, he leaps up and faces Radioactive Lizard Man. Taking flight, no-longer-cadaver man thrusts his wounded head towards the heart of the lizard. Precisely, their heads meet under the obscurity of explosion. Slain, the beast falls to the ground, defeated. But what of no-longer-cadaver man? His last stand, his undoing. He falls also to the ground, his body vanishing to the whim of the gods so crazy. The only thing left standing is the tree – constant, strong… green. Stars swirl above the beast, but he has lost, without riposte. It is impossible to know why these two fought, but their perpetual battle has come to an end, submissive to the laws of physics. Perhaps it was the radioactivity, perhaps the thin legs and arms of the deceased Radioactive Lizard Man. Maybe it was the eternal struggle between radioactive lizards and dark-skinned cadavers that brought them to their ultimate demise. We will never know. Monkey Toby God watched with his head hung low as Morreese the lizard man was blasted into the air by the nimble intruder. At this point Morreese knew he was beaten and that he had failed God in his mission to protect the sacred jaffa tree. A few thoughts wiggled through his spiky head as he yelled out in pain. "I hope he won't take my brown pants away from me" Morreese speculated as he thought of what God might do to him for failing. "Why couldn't I beat him? I can beat anyone!" God knew the reason. The intruder was obviously undead, and with the power of a small spell attached to his right big toe he was extremely powerful! Reece Hamish Oggy the bearded angel looked down on Earth from his puffy blue home and sighed. Things weren't looking very good. The old cherry tree had broken out of its fence yet again, and one of the few remaining dragons on the planet was in a whole lot of trouble. It seemed the trousers Oggy had given it to protect against the bitter cold had been extremely valuable to a certain reanimated skeleton who had taken offense at the blatant wearing of such a priceless artefact, and was now hurling deadly fireballs at the dragon and demanding them back. Oggy could tell the poor dragon was thinking of how it had so gratefully accepted the trousers, and he hoped it didn't think this was all some cruel joke. It had really been an honest mistake, and Oggy had done all he could to set things right, but the Enchanted Scroll of Encumberment he had taped to the skeleton's leg didn't seem to be working... Bradley Lyndon The tree with chicken legs blew away the pond, which upset the pond angel as he was swimming in it at the time. Now he had no control over his destiny; as he was not a powerful angel, he hadn’t earned his wings yet. He did not like this predicament, as when he was alive he had always liked being in control. Not being in control always upset pond angel, his wife who was still alive could attest to that. But something that caught his eye as he flew away into the ether quelled his rising anger. He spied his old friend Dewbert the duck dragon. Pond angel had known Dewbert since he was a duck. He was even there the day that an old witch tried to turn Dewbert into a dragon, and failing miserably in completing the job. It had taken a lot of her energy and as she was old, she had a heart attack and drowned in the pond halfway through the spell! This had left Dewbert with the torso of a dragon and a ducks arse, which had stars circulating it at all times. Pond angel was perturbed, as Dewbert (who was normally quite passive) had just completely fried someone with his flame breath, leaving them still alive but devoid of skin and inner organs, so thus they were a mere skeleton! The skeleton tried to fight back by throwing Dewbert’s own fire back at him! But this was to no avail as the skeleton died leaving his only possession (a painting of his father the king) to Dewbert. Karl Matt Eastern and Western religion team up to conquer the evil skeleton art-dealer and his treechicken Sidney. A terrible battle battle begins to rage on a desolate field of shrubbery. That's all! Sincere thanks to all that put their time and energy into coming up with the entries. I'd say without a doubt that we can call this exercise a very slow success :D J
link	3 comments\|post comment

The beginning of the Blog. Fo Reals.

[Jan. 29th, 2006|11:52 pm]

[

music

Tresk - Weeklies Schroeders Failure

]

So, Shaun and Nick have issued a challenge? One post a day? I'm in!

What do you mean I wasn't invited? That's hardly the point...

This blogging business is a fairly foreign concept to little-old-me. A blog is supposed to an online journal for the purpose of documenting what happens to a person day by day or week by week. I see mine more as a letter I write periodically, shove into a bottle, and throw out into the vicious e-sea. Every now and then a new bottle will wash ashore with a deep and meaningful message attached;

'ZOMG it's been so long guys! I got married!'
'Heya, haven't thrown a bottle in a while, my left leg's been amputated!'
'Long time no see! I've evolved, grown fins and scales, and am now the ruler of Atlantis - legendary lost city under the sea!'

But NO LONGER! With this new competition, this sneaky little plan, I'll endeaver to update Every. Single. Day.
That'll mean a weekly post increase of 1350%!

I just realised... I'm way too good at filling space with pointless drivel. Ok, so it's big news you want huh? Big news? Hows about this... I'm moving on Wednesday! I'll give you a few seconds to pick yourself up off the floor, right the chair, and wait for your heart rate to return to it's regular schedule before continuing. I'm moving out of the known and loved flat in Dean Street Grey Lynn, and am moving into a nice brick house in Mt Eden with 3 other Christian guys. Hopefully we'll get Internet fairly soon so's I can keep this blog thing up.

That's the only info you'll get out of me tonight I'm afraid. If this thing is going to be updated every day I'm going to have to divulge the goods on a drip feed, Lost style, for your sake and mine.

Ciao for now! xoxo
J

link

post comment

Do a edit right there!	[Nov. 18th, 2005\|01:02 am]
A peek inside the world of Dane and J film editing madness. Editing slowly drives you mad. Especially when it's done for six hours every afternoon for three fairly stressful weeks in the lead up to exams. With the guy that specialises in making unique mouthsoundztm. Yesterday we worked on re-recording dialogue to replace the fuzzy sounding lines from the original tape. One of the sentences that needed doing was 'My name is Wendy'. Being the morons we are, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to record the voices in ridiculous tones and accents. The one line got crazier and crazier, and culminated in a high pitched and barely understandable "MY NAME IS WENDYYY!!!!" I laughed so hard I swear I had heart cramp.
link	8 comments\|post comment

I Blog all the Time

[Mar. 30th, 2005|09:48 pm]

[

music

Autechre - Nuane

]

Today Zoe asked me why I hadn't written anything in my "diary" in a long time. After getting all defensive and trying to figure out why she was going through my personal possessions, I realised she meant this musty old thing that hides on some anonymous server in who-knows-where. I've decided to update, but only because both Zoe and John have pestered me about blogging within a single week. Popularity: An entirely selfish reason for sure.

A few months ago I returned to this place of the written word, and was greeted by an expectant blog. Wide eyed and innocent, it welcomed me back into its linguistic arms bearing no grudge. I was afraid I'd have to coax it out from its hiding place after being abandoned for an entire month, and had bought some peanut M & M's should such an incident occur, but it welcomed me back without a word edgewise. This time, it's been four whole months, and I'm wondering what treatment I deserve for being so slack.

It's at this point that I start to wonder whether blogs' psyches are closer to a dog's or a child's. If a blog's brain was comparable to a dog's, there would be no trouble whatsoever. Dogs are notorious for liking you, the owner, no matter what you do to it, put it down, throw it at, shove it off, or attach to it. Some people like to call this loyalty. Others (the ones that like cats), call it stupidity.

However, if the humble blog's thought patterns more closely resemble a human child’s, I'm pretty much screwed. Humans learn to mistrust, despise, and just generally not like other humans, depending on how these humans treat them. Not only would it be nigh on impossible to break the months-worth of distrust to write a decent entry, but the Society of Prevention of Cruelty to Children would probably interfere just to try and make my life miserable.

I'd make a terrible dad, it seems. I had a plant once, and it died. I had a rabbit too, it died. I had a cat that died too, but that was cancer's fault, not mine.

I better wrap up this awful entry with something that makes sense. Things are racing along this year, and much fun has been had:

I've been commissioned (asked nicely) by Neil to write the story for an 8-page comic he's planning on drawing. This is awesome, as Neil is a ridiculously good artist. He's done some concept sketches, and it's hugely inspiring yet intimidating to be working with someone as good as him. I only hope that I can write a story that will complement his art nicely.

Tomorrow my parents and two younger siblings leave for Japan. They'll be gone a year; Mum to do teaching, Rachel and Hamish to do learning, and dad to do who-knows-what, along with a website that will follow the adventures of the little ones in the land of the rising sun.

I've been spending way too much money on music CDs, something that someone in my position and with a debt of my debt's magnitude should definitely not be doing.

Resident Evil 4 is way too much fun.

Course has been awesome lately, as we've been planning and drawing our whole animations ourselves. It's a bit scary, and I feel like I've been chucked in the deep end a bit, but it's still fun. I think my tutor hates me though...

Heaps of other suitably amazing things have happened, but I can't describe them now. It would just be wrong to just divulge every exciting little event in one extended spree. I also can't be stuffed writing any longer.

link

5 comments|post comment

Home is where the Heart is (apparently)	[Sep. 29th, 2004\|01:27 am]
So I’ve spent the last week-and-a-bit with the folks and family in Kerikeri. Every time I’ve returned it’s doubled in size, I swear. Whether it’s a sprawling great supermarket, seven story office building, or library carefully constructed to resemble a cargo ship in dire need of liposuction, some new monstrosity always manages to sprout behind my back. It’s a little unnerving actually; the place has grown at a breakneck pace ever since we moved here four years ago. I haven’t heard a single thank-you or received any gift of appreciation as yet, so the jury is still out on whether we’ve improved common courtesy along with the obvious boost to our local economy. Last Saturday marked my triumphant return to the family lifestyle. As has become tradition, the first evening consisted of much chatting and entertainment with the siblings and elders, reassuring me that I was, in fact, the most popular and loved member of my family. History repeated itself on Sunday, where I was still a fresh novelty, allowed to regale the pack with city-life’s stories of whimsy and despair. Monday followed the Hay conventions, where I reverted back to ‘just another of those kids’. I am no longer free from the constraints of a restrictive father, problematic brothers, slightly annoying sister, and a mother that finds issues as slight as an irreparably burnt bench-top most mortifying. Having exhausted all of my family-freshness, I trundled off to New World to beg and plead for casual work. I had foolhardily assumed that casual work meant regular work, only a bit easier and without strict policies such as ‘Shoes must be worn at all times within the store’. Realising the error of my ways a little too late, I was quickly ushered into the dirty world of the ‘grocery assistant’. A grocery assistant is someone who finds a trolley loaded with stock, wheels it to the appropriate aisle, helps a customer find the milk powder, selects one of the boxes at the top of the trolley, shows an enquiring man the whereabouts of the mustard, begins to place the box’s contents on the shelves, scours the store for a product as ambiguous and unappealingly titled as “Slippery Elm Food” that an inquisitive young girl requests, finishes placing the food items on the shelf and breaks the empty box down, screams at the elderly woman that this is the fourth time they’ve been asked about where we keep our milk powder, it’s down aisle 4, right next to all the other milk products, and why don’t I just draw you a bloody map? But as they say, it’s all about the money, and today the first fruit of my labour was realised when I bought the Star Wars original trilogy boxed set. Of course, this particular purchase was always a question of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’, and it seemed obvious to me that now, with ridiculous student debts and overdue rent hanging over my head like an ominous money-cloud, was the answer. Not necessarily the right answer, but definitely an ‘adventurous’, ‘exciting’ or ‘just plain stupid’ one. Star Wars is a funny one to me. I was a bit of a latecomer to the phenomenon, and must have been around seven years old when I was seated in a small classroom to watch the last half of A New Hope, while the teacher went to meet the other teachers to do their secret teacher things. I could follow the general geek consensus and say that I instantly fell in love, and from that moment on knew I was destined for great and nerdy things. The truth of the matter, however, is that I was mildly interested in what I was watching, but even more mildly interested in the lunchtime that was about to commence, where I could continue my quest to keep walking around the giant tire in the playground until I felt satisfactorily ill. I saw bits and pieces of the movies on several occasions from then on, but it wasn’t until I saw all three special editions in a row at a particular Ben Whitton’s house that I realised the extent of the trilogy’s greatness. As things stand today, I really enjoy the films, but not at all to a fanatical extent. The way I see it, I stand on a knifed precipice between the hardcore fans and the casual masses. I’m the sort that knows its Endor’s forest moon, not Endor itself that the climatic battle of Return of the Jedi is staged on, but not savvy enough to know what that battle was called, if indeed it had a name. I know people who base their lives on Star Wars philosophy, the sort that memorise every line of spoken dialogue, own every second collectible sold, and print “Jedi” when they get to the religion part of the National Polls. Some of these people believe themselves to be Spiderman, if truth be told (shout-out to you Mike), so no conclusive examinations of the human psyche can be drawn from such subjects. It’s 1:07 am and my brain is screaming, no, drooling, in a vague attempt to get me to bed. Before I go (ie collapse from the chair into sweet, sweet slumber) I must mention that I’ve been thinking about updating this thing more frequently, perhaps even once a week. If anyone has an objection to this, you’ll have to comment here. I simply can’t see you if you flail your arms and writhe around with a wide-eyed expression of terror, unless you’re sitting right next to me, which you aren’t. And so I will march into the night. J
link	1 comment\|post comment

Less work for me...

[Sep. 1st, 2004|09:10 pm]

[

music

Dissolved - Some girls have all the ESP

]

On the subject of award winning speeches, my little brother and sister both came first in speech competitions for their respective year levels at Kerikeri High School. Today I present to you the unabridged edition of my 13 year old brother Hamish’s verbal recitation -

The Truth About Funny

As some of you may recall, in my last speech I told you this year I would be revealing the truth about Funny. But, I’d much rather talk about frogs. First, I’ll be explaining the ways frogs benefit our society. Then, I’ll be pointing out one of the major disadvantages of frogs, and lastly, I’ll be telling you how frogs are a great source of entertainment.

Now, the first question that springs to mind, that I bet most of you are wondering right now, is are frogs even real? Well, I recently did a survey on this, and of the twenty people I asked, sixteen said yes, frogs do exist, three said no, they don’t, and one person told me to go away. If I had somehow managed to survey the rest of the population of the world, I can guarantee at least fifty people would have said frogs are real. To the minority of hopeless incompetents whose warped minds still seem to think frogs are just a figment of our imagination, an elite team of the best scientists, biologists, and mice got together, and with a fiendishly complex array of measuring instruments, reference books, and fluorescent yellow pencil sharpeners, successfully proved once and for all that frogs are real. If you’re still not sure, you can visit www.arefrogsreal.net/proof.htm for more information.

The common frog can help our great society of humankind in many different ways. Moral support is one of these benefits. Frogs have been one of the best encouragers and supporters of our people since the dodo became extinct. You can always count on a frog whenever you have a problem, and many frogs are members of such clubs as the S.F.S.H, the Society of Frogs Supporting Humans, or the P.H.C, the People Helpers Club. Frogs are also, unlike us, very caring for our environment, and, unlike us, go to great lengths to protect it. Almost 60% of members of the Department of Conservation are frogs. But one of the best things about frogs is that they’re relatively cheap, at only about $3.95 a kilogram.

I bet some of you have heard about spontaneous human combustion, that is, people suddenly bursting into flames for no seemingly apparent reason, but have you ever heard frogs are partially responsible for it? That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The reason is a substance called Ethomagnostriphula Phostrelapremonthum, or E.P. for short, which is secreted out of a gland on the frog’s back. This substance chemically reacts with human skin tissues and causes them to catch fire. This is why you should never, ever handle a frog with your bare hands. It also explains why the French have more cases of spontaneous human combustion than any other country in the world.

The most fun things in life almost always involve frogs. If you wanted me to, I could make a list of more than a hundred entertaining things you can do with frogs right now. The possibilities are endless. Many frogs are used in sports, like Frogball, Frog Hockey and Squash. Another popular activity is training them up and deploying them in Frog Battles, which can include up to fifty frogs fighting at a time, and some are even given weapons to increase the fun. Less popular but admittedly less messy activities are Frog Races. But why stop there? You don’t need huge crowds and professional teams to have fun with frogs. Many people would rather do interesting and exciting things with them on their own, or with a group of friends, but the choice is up to you.

In my speech, I’ve convinced you frogs are real, provided you with false references, mentioned the word ‘manure’, made fun of the French, and informed you of the entertaining things you can do with a frog. Oh, and that ‘Truth About Funny’ thing? Forget it, I’m going to find me a frog.

I know for a fact that if I had written something of this calibre at such a tender age, I would have scaled a literary throne of my own creation. It would be a seat of gold encrusted with precious jewels, each marked with delicious yet entirely unnecessary word such as ‘quondam’ or ‘lugubrious’. Instead I was writing army lists and playing with little toy Space Marines, assembling and painstakingly ruining them with my paintbrush.

Maybe that’s a tad excessive, but little Hamish certainly seems to be on the write track when it comes to creative composition. He’s already absorbed a sizable selection of quality comedy such as Monty Python, Douglas Adams and The Office, and picks up on all their subtle nuances, so I’ll be expecting great things from him in the future...

I have to say I think our writing styles are quite similar, and not just because I’ll need some evidence to back myself up for the court case that will ensue when he inevitably starts making money from his written works and I accuse him for plagiarism. Ensue, ha. Just full of puns tonight!

Swinging the subject away from those that aren’t me, I just managed to finish my character assignment at Art School on time. I don’t use the word ‘just’ lightly here either. I worked on it all weekend, and managed to stay awake from 8 a.m. Sunday morning until 10 p.m. Monday evening working on the thing. That’s, like, almost 40 hours. I can attest to becoming slightly delirious after this point, stumbling around like a drunken mime and settling on my bed to sketch a kitten I thought I saw hiding under my drawing pad. Don’t say I leave things to the last minute either, I’m more than aware of the fact.

If anyone reading this took part in the last game of Eat Poop You Cat (if anyone reads this), you might be interested to know that a new game is due to commence very soon, and I should be sending out preliminary emails within a week.

That’s it for now. Enjoy yourself, but not at the expense of your co-workers!

- J

link

7 comments|post comment

	[Aug. 18th, 2004\|05:54 pm]
Eat Poop You Cat NZ Round 01 is over! For hilarious results visit this page! If you want to discuss/argue/query what went on, comment on this post.
link	1 comment\|post comment

Rockquest Part 2

[Aug. 15th, 2004|07:55 pm]

[	mood	\|	hopeful	]
[	music	\|	Orange Dust - Blemish	]

In a display of raw suckage, I wasn't able to get up to Whangarei to see my brother's band perform at the Regional Finals. Apparently they did well on the first song, but botched the second up a bit. Hardly surprising, considering they only nailed the final version of the tune a couple of days ago.

In the end they weren't Numero Uno or Numero Secondas (I made that one up), so they won't be competing in the National Finals. However, they did win the Best Song and Best Lyrics awards for their first number The Human Colony.

Aah yes, Best Lyrics. Must be about time for me to lean back in my chair, crack my knuckles, and smile contentedly. No vanity implied, naturally.

It's a bit weird actually. I wrote the lyrics a good two years ago, and I don't find them particularly impressive any more. Since I finished my written contribution for their new song pretty late, Stephen didn't have time to hand them in as part of the lyric writing contest. It would have been nice to see whether they bested the first in the competition. In any case, The Human Colony's lyrics won the award, and are going to be judged against all the other finalists' efforts in the National Finals. The winner gets $500, so I'm crossing my fingers...

The Human Colony

A Night of restless sleep subsides, and the ants’ awake once more.
'Just a worker' he tells himself, as his six feet hit the floor.
He joins millions who start to dig, beginning their work day.
Again tedium takes its hold, and his mind begins to stray.

Society is ruining me, from the outside to the core.
Forever marching on and on, but always wanting more.
If what I tell won’t break the spell of never being free,
Open your eyes, perceive the lies, to escape the human colony.

The ants’ brain works in overdrive, and he starts to wonder why.
What makes them think the queen is right? Could this all just be a lie?
The machinations of his mind, reveal the common goal,
Of the insect colony; an entity without a soul.

Your ‘ordered’ world has got me down, I’m gonna take a stand,
It’s now assumed that you won’t let me be just who I am.
And now the light is falling right I finally can see
The ant inside now swells with pride, I’ve left your human colony.

And more importantly, the song itself. Right click save that sucker to hear a recording of the Best Song of the Northland Rockquest Regional Finals 2004! Bear in mind that the recording isn't all blossoms and fairy-dust; The mixing is off, it wasn't their top performance, and Stephen royally mucked up the tempo near the start of the song (I can't tell, but he's the drummer so who am I to argue?). I'm sure you'll be able to ignore all the glaring faults, put on a brave face, and heartily enjoy this snippet of New Zealand rock history. Heh.

Oh, before I go. New artwork. Bask in it's metaphorical glory, or see through my pretentiousness and wonder what was going through my head when grafting electronic appliances to it's limbs.

link

3 comments|post comment

Weird tales from beyond	[Aug. 10th, 2004\|01:06 pm]
Oftentimes I plan to spin grandiose tales regarding the more interesting sections of my life, even going so far as to plan out the basic story structure or even preliminary content of these potentially entertaining accounts. I could weave tales of killer pigeons with personal vendettas towards yours truly, describe in detail the genuinely cheerful lady that adorns half of Auckland’s bus-stops, or reveal exactly what Jamie shouldn’t have let me do when somewhat less than sober. But I won’t, and you know why? It’s because I’m fat and lazy. Well, maybe not that fat. Possibly too thin, I should eat more. In fact, I’m going to eat now; some toasted sandwiches filled with delicious fruit salad… That hit the spot. Last weekend Oliver and I released the newest addition to the FLATFILMS family, 6 Metres. It’s another short one with slightly higher production values, some cool music, and me wandering around like a lost puppy. Check it out and let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always appreciated, where ‘appreciated’ is a loose term for ‘It stings but that’s probably because there’s some truth in it’. Seriously though, it would be nice to see what you guys do and don’t like about our work. My little bro and his band Clockwork are competing in the regional finals of the NZ Rockquest competition this weekend, and playing a couple of songs in front of a live audience. If all goes smoothly I’ll be up there to check them out and scream at the top of my lungs in a vague attempt to earn them the top spot. So far I’ve written the lyrics to their songs and recently finished the words to their newest piece: Reprobation Genesis words of warning We resist take the fruit of knowledge and pain spread our seed to the wind, settle down, begin Renouncement seek immorality Now his waters will rid this disease But will we learn? Humanity resides inside Spark of an engine - yet flesh unmodified Tangible centre, not plastic synthetic sunshine; Our genetic, cybernetic suicide Unity urban construction Lunacy embrace vainglorious Nimrod’s victories compile a tower to topple the skies Godlike size swear off the truth that makes us human and now he’ll scatter our minds, communication resigns An age is over But will we learn? Well, I must get back to procrastinating about going into town and applying for a job. When I’ve been reduced to selling Xbox games to keep myself afloat, the rusty old wheels in my mind eventually begin turning, and at some point between the stages ‘I have to eat two minute noodles to keep my finances afloat’ and ‘I have to search the city streets for dead animals to prevent starvation’ reminds me that I can avoid these unpleasantaries by procuring a place of employment.
link	2 comments\|post comment

FLATFILMS presents...	[Jul. 23rd, 2004\|11:44 pm]
Today Oliver and I launched our new mini-movie website, FLATFILMS! When I say 'launched', I’m talking more along the lines of launching a paper boat into a muddy puddle than the fully-fledged Super-Yacht dealie which requires destroying a particularly expensive bottle of champagne. Rewind four months or so, and the basic story begins: Oliver and J's flatmate John buys a new digital camera. O and J quickly hijack it and take plenty of ridiculous photos. O & J realise it can film low-quality video, and all hell breaks loose. OJ decide to combine their creative efforts into creating short films designed to entertain the masses. And by masses I mean our friends. So! Please visit the site and download a video or two, they’re very small, around 4 Megs each. I’d suggest starting with ‘5 Metres’, a 3-minute schlock-horror short that combines camp acting, cheesy special effects, and old-school music to become something that is about the equal of the sum of its parts… If you download a video and give me some feedback here (“j00r \|\/\|0v13 i5 t3H SuxX0R!11!!” is expected and highly anticipated) I’ll give you a cookie. How’s that?
link	3 comments\|post comment

Authenticity...	[Jul. 18th, 2004\|01:14 am]
Is a damn fine word. Say it a couple of times, you'll know what I mean.
link	2 comments\|post comment

navigation

[	viewing	\|	most recent entries	]
[	go	\|	earlier	]