TechHead

TechHead

The shuddering gears within this place, grinding and grasping

Imbedding with every moment a senseless rhythm (on and on)

Turning with the path of that ever-blowing noise, ever-gasping

Clocks shattered and thrown as playthings in an oblivion.

And I wonder for you, can you feel this mechanism within?

Is every breath for you just one more sanction passed by the heart

-          Your heart with it’s cables and connections – lacking morals or sins

A heartbeat the plodding tread of life you walked from the start

Wheeling in a fathom called your mind – a void I can’t comprehend

Sense and senselessness brothers in arms with their guns and roses

Cold steel nuzzling soft petals i see : it’s almost sensual as it ends

Only when you close your eyes can I see the list of poses

And I wonder for you, can you feel this confusion inside?

Is every thought just another plot or plan to scheme and wile

You never know whether to raise your fists or hide

Is it murder or love in the teeth of that smile...

Unfurling your fingers from within their tense clench

That once shielded the vunerablities I heard you ignore

Well look at all that’s remained of your strength :

The dust of something beautiful departed.

And I wonder for you, can you comprehend what you’ve lost?

Is it the loss of that secret place you cry about or laugh over

Delirious in a joy of all that you succeeded in killing

Dead in every sense but what you would sanction as definition.

I should hope that one day you awake from this stupor

And see the world for the striking heartbreak that it is

I would rather your heart open in pain and spill out

Than for your heart to become nothing at all. 

Punny Fom-Toolery

Hello my pretties.

You know what I really do not enjoy? Abortions.

THEY’RE SO DAMN INTRUSIVE.

But also... people who ask personal questions at innapropriate times. To be honest, I am in complete confusion as to why someone hasn’t written a handbook on the Conventions of Personal Questions. It’s such an awkward area, and we all know society loves self-help books that mainly just help the shitty author frolick in money and the knowledge they’re messing with people, so why has it not been written? Because I would seriously invest in such a book and just hand them out to people. WHICH WOULD MAYBE MAKE THEM FEEL AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS MUCH AS THEY MESSED WITH ME.

Just because we are acquainted does not mean we’re at liberty to swap licenses to each others diaries, thoughts and underwear drawers. No. When it comes to these things I swear all I can hear is the subtext falling out of people’s mouths – all the nicities just shed from the conversation and all i hear is this :

“Hi, we’ve spoken once and I liked your dp.”

“Oh yeah I know you! Hey how are you?”
“Im great J. So how was your day?”

“Oh you know, average...Oh actually there was one cool thing, I saw this cloud and –“

“TELL ME WHY YOU WERN’T AT SCHOOL THE OTHER DAY IS IT BECAUSE  YOUR BLUDGING OR SICK I WAS THINKING BLUDGING BUT YOU LOOK PRETTY FUCKED UP SO MAYBE SICK OH MY GOD HOW SICK OMG ARE YOU DYING HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE FOOT CANCER OMG THATS SO SAD WHATS THE DRESS CODE AT YOUR FUNERAL BRB COPY PASTE CONVO MENTALLY TO ALL MY CONTACT LIST BYE.”

Now I’m not saying that actually happens, BUT I FEEL LIKE IT DOES. As soon as I see a motive in someones conversation all i hear is “ Hi, I’m a sociopath.” So, for my peace of mind, here is the world’s premier handbook on How Not To Suck at Being a Person : Personal Questions Edition.

Hello there. I’m so glad you’ve perchanced upon this pamphlet. Now that you’re here, let’s get to know each other. What’s your favourite color? Do you have a pet? HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH?

Oh I’m sorry, did I shock/surprise/terrify/sexuallyl excite you?

If you’ve been given this book then you understand one of two things. Either the uncomfortable-ness of the situation above, and you seek refuge from the world in the pages of this shelter of manners. Or you are a tool who  society has deemed too good to just stone to death but in need of some help. Either either, let’s begin. Here are some preliminary tips to deal with situations relating to personal questions.

Firstly, for those afflicted by the situation of others being dicks, listen up.

1. Never underestimate the power of evasion techniques. Clearly the person asking you something innapropriate isn’t that bright – other wise they would have the walnuts to make a nut and work out it’s not okay. Know this. USE THIS. Here is an advantage in your favour, RUN WITH IT. Evasion is the first step you must take in answering personal questions, the preventitive step if you will. Some personal favourites of mine can be demonstrated with the example question of ‘Why do you look so depressed?’

Example responses include:

“Wait one sec, I’m fantasing about your dad right now......mmm.......okay sorry what?”

“WOAH. WOAH. WOAH. ARE YOU ANONYMOUS? I GOT THAT QUESTION ON MY TUMBLR LAST NIGHT! IT’S YOU! OMG ANONYMOUS I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR REBLOGGING ME AHHHH – etc”

“......(silence as you pretend to fall asleep while they talk to you. I’ve actually done this. Success rate 100% if you commit)

2. If the question has been asked, then an answer is expected. However, as you all know, I enjoy spicing up said life more than the average person. Thus Step Two involves subverting the expectation of your Douche-Assailant with a completely irrelevant response. Humor is encouraged.

Example responses include:

“I like cats. (Repeat till they walk away)”

“This reminds me of this one time way back in 1932. Back then things were simpler. But times were tougher. This one morning as I was plowing the fields I was chatting to the farm folk I saw a sheep that reminded me of me grand-daddy Albert. Albert was a top bloke, born in 1865....etc”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I see dead people.”

3. If your Douche-Assailiant is either so dumb they hav’nt got the hint by now or so persistant they were willing to listen to all the above, then the fatefull Step Three remains to be your only remaining option. Use with caution.

Example reactions include:

-          Lying down on the floor face down and singing Soft Kitty

-          Trying to stab them with a plastic spoon

-          Quickly montage all the saddest parts of every sad movie you’ve watched and tell an epic tale of rape, murder and loss for as long as possible, optimumly at least ten minutes. As your story progresses the events in your sad make believe life must slowly become worse and worse. Your emotional state should also deteriorate. When you are almost done begin to wail and shake your fist at the sky. When the Douche-Assailant says some inadequate apology or comiseration, say “And that’s only last year! I havn’t even told you about that time I committed suicide.”

Good luck my doves. Now for the rest of you. YE DOUCHE-ASSAILANTS. LISTEN UP BIZNITCHES. THIS IS HOW IT WORKS.

1. Firstly, stop being a  tool. This always helps. Prime examples of being a tool include

  - toolish behaviours like laughing at people’s misfortunes (hilarious stacks by year sevens excluded), having no sense of humanity, and spending too much time in sheds.

2. Secondly,  start being compassionate. Everyone has loss or sadness in their lives in one form or another – or maybe not yet but without a doubt this screwed up world will ensure that one day they cry. That includes you. Therefore start caring about other people before everyone stops caring about you.

3. Thirdly, stop asking questions. It’s one thing to ask ‘How was your day?” but it’s another to ask “Why were you crying earlier?”. Depending on your relationship this meter of appropriateness will alter. Be aware of where you stand on this scale (Stranger, Adquaintance, Friend, Good Friend) and moderate your behaviour to suit. Obviously if you are best friends DO ask – if you don’t then your still a tool, just in a different way – but if your not a part of their lives then don’t have the conciet to presume yourself in it.

So, Douche-Assailants and I-Just-Got-Assailed-By-Douches alike, good luck. And remember, please don’t be a tool. J

ANYWAAYYYYY I THINK WE ALL AGREE THAT WILL BE HITTING BOOKSHELVES SOON AND ON THE BESTSELLERS LIST. Now that that’s done I’m going to go. J

OH by the whey I’m sorry I hath not written in a while, I’m trying not to write when I’m sad because my emo poetry is shite beyond belief and I wouldn’t want to thrust motifs of gothicsm upon you all for everyone's wellbeing haha

okaybyexx

Norwegian Wood

Hey kids,


Today was a weird day. Just as Kingdom Hearts would say, 'I've been having these weird thoughts lately...like, is any of this for real? Or not?'

"'When you walk away, you don't hear me say "Please, oh baby, don't go.'"


Fucckk. My entire life I have always felt safe in expressing myself. I find it so easy usually to understand myself, analyse, process, repair and move on. I've done this through talking, writing, even singing to people (though usually in more light hearted affairs I'll admit). But right now...I honestly am finding the most basic comprehension of what's going on inside my mind beyond me. Which results in what I can only describe as a fervour of confusion.


Today I was talking to Ange about this homeless crazy guy we passed by on the street. Typical crazy - talking to himself, dressed weird, not causing anyone any harm. I took the typical white girl approach of giving him a once over and being wary, but she said she felt sympathy for him. "No-one listens to him. He honestly believes what he's talking about, but no-one will ever listen." To be fair he was trying to convince two sardonic looking Chinese guys that mobile phones were Europe's latest method of international invasion, but I felt the point with resonance. It made me think of a man who is unable to speak, physically. Surely he has thoughts and emotions within, but the outside barrier will never let these secrets pervade the silence outside. Just as the crazy man has theories about aliens (apparently the USA has a colony on Mars in co-existence with aliens guys), he is prevented from expressing them by either his mental incapacity or our judgement of it. I'm not sure which one of these things it is. Maybe both? At any rate, I'm not saying that we should all have a dnm with our local drunkard or go pick up in Hyde Park, but for me that man being incapable of expression was both intensely sad and terrifying. I don't want to be that man.


Meeting - or more accurately put, observing - that man made me flashback to year 5. I was in this really swanky typical 'gifted and talented' class which always annoyed me because the teacher took my inability to draw well to mean that I was unworthy to participate in maths, science, English, PE, walking, breathing or being-in-her-general-presence activities. Anyway. So we were reading this book...ahhh what was it called, wait, quick google...Sorry to report I was unsuccessful. I'll ask Beccy (Shiara) tomorrow, I'm pretty sure she was in that class with me. Anyway, so whatever this book was called, it was about this girl who was blind. The imagery was stunning ironically, and very lyrical. I remember being aware that I was reading a book that was quality, something I could appreciate when I was older maybe. In my mind there's one scene I remember in particular. The girl is with her friend, a boy, and he has taken her to the beach for the first time in her life. She stands on the cliff face, tears blown back from her face by the sea breeze and asks what the boy what color the sea is. The boy replies red (...jokes, just trying to break the tension of my depressive ramblings. He said blue in case you were wondering.) The girl laughs and cries and bitterly shouts at him, up over the sand on this little cliff. She wants to know what this blue is, what the hell does blue mean? What is it? Explain it, now! He says (god I wish I had the exact quote, it's absolutely beautiful) something descriptive and breathtaking and amazing and goes on and on and on, and while you never really want it to end because of it's loveliness, you sort of do, just becauase we all love to see cause and effect like the social scientists we are. The girl says "Oh.", or something very small, simple...I imagine this moment to be like a bear seeing the sun after a long period of hibernation. And then the boy says, "It's also the color of your eyes."
TEARS OF NAW.


Anyway, I thought of that book today, after seeing that man. Hence forth, he shall be named Toby. After seeing Toby I instantly thought of that book. You know when you think of something complex and emotional after a sudden coincidence, and you're filled with a rush of something? I often, happily, feel that in a positive way, like a rush of happiness or love, but this time I was flooded with a sense of insecurity and sorrow. It's the sort of thing you can never hope or bother to explain to someone else. Your friend/conversational partner/slave may notice a small change in you, like your mood suddenly changing or your mind wandering onto a different path, but since our own minds are so inundated with thoughts how can we ever aim to calm the flooding within another person's mind? I always like to try and understand others. I place a high value upon empathy - actually, probably too high a value, I know. Gotta separate yourself, stay above the emotions and damages of others, right? Anyway, I always try and understand others. I think I'm giving up on understanding myself right now though, haha....


For senior drama club I had to interview several people around the school, just asking them random hypothetical questions for lols and videoing their answers. One of the questions was 'If you could choose a superpower what would it be?', which is easy personally as I could never go past psychic power, dat shit cray with the teleporting and ghost controlling and energy skills and what not. However, one of the most popular answers was that of being able to read minds.
I'M SORRY, WHAT?
WHY?
WHYWHYWHYWHYWHWHYWHYWHY


WHY WOULD YOU EVER WANT TO DO THAT, MY DEAR SWEET LORD IN HEAVEN AMEN.


They CLEARLY haven't thought about listening in on people as weird as me haha. But no seriously, WHY?
1. There are some things that aren't meant to be shared. Sometimes you just don't want to tell people some things. And that's fine! It's called privacy bro, and it's legal. Look it up. And when privacy gets encroached upon, people often get embarrassed or angry, which I believe they have a right to feel. So basically if you go snooping in other people's minds, you will find things your not meant to, and you are a bad person.
2. What if the person happens to be thinking how ugly you look? They don't want to hurt you - they not saying it out loud - but still. That could just ruin everyone's day.
3. Dude, I can barely deal with my own life, let alone everyone else's. If I read someone's mind and they were sad, I would instinctually try and improve their situation somewhat. But to be honest, this sort of meddling isn't what's always needed and in fact is sometimes more effective in creating more huge piles of fucked-ness for the poor person to navigate.


Gahhhhhh want to keep writing but I do require at least sleep to keep living, so I'll be off. Night my sugarplums xx


ps. Read Norweigan Wood. It's beyond anything I could describe to you...I CRIED ON A TRAIN AS I READ THE FINAL CHAPTER. THAT'S HOW GOOD IT WAS. CMON PEOPLE READ IT!

Hannah is a sex goddess

Kate is a green tree frog.

She sits all day upon a log.

And why does she sit it this fog?

Simply, becuase she is a frog. Hannah is hot xo

Drunken Ramblings

Currently in legal, dying slowly. I assumed that by taking this class I would somehow be transformed into Elle Woods – as in the hot chick from Legally Blonde – and I can only say I have experienced disappointment. The only sexy developments that have derived from me taking legal has been a ponder-ment of wondering if I could have a hypothetical law suit against me dissolved by flirting with the judge. IF I’M DESTINED TO LIVE A FEMALE LIFE OF SUBJEGATION, I MIGHT AS WELL ENJOY THE PERKS.

My teacher just said that one in five couples have difficulty having children. That’s really sad. But like, actually, think about it. Really sad. In the movie Julie and Julia, the lovely Merryl Streep and gorgeous Stanley Tucci are an older couple very much in love but for some unknown reason can’t have kids...I can honestly say that my heart broke for them a bit, as a well acted representation of a real life problem. When you think about it, it’s kind of crazy that we’re all here really. Especially Johnny Depp. His DNA aligned juuuuuuuuuuuuuuustttt rightttt.

ANYWAY, how are we all? That’s nice. I’m great thanks. Having some difficulty being at school for one more week. I highly doubt that any work shall be done by moi in the next five days BUT YOLO BRO! Instead I shall spend my waking hours baking and reading, like the raging party animal I am. T00 h@r3h 2 h@ndelll boizzzz.

Jesus, she’s still talking. WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT ME TO LEARN SO MANY THINGS L If i was a teacher, without sounding arrogent, I would be baus. My students would be keen as spleen to come to my classes. I think I would teach Extention English. History maybe, but I get really sad over emotional historical events and boundaries might be crossed if the kids have to hand me tissues and “There, there” me. And drama? Hmmm, yes perhaps drama. And all conversations must be had in either Shakesperan or Hood language register.

Me : “Good morn, my children of knowledge! Forgoe thine leafs of paper and shun thine quills, for hence we shall have a lesson of practical nature! Sir Jonothan, approach the stage with courage. Engaurde! Swipe the gloom from our eyes of culture, show us an act of glorious emotion. You are in the throes of hatred : now demonstate thus.”

Sir Jonothan : “FUQ BITCHES GET MONEY, RACK CITY BITCH RACK RACK CITY BITCH.”

Me : “Jolly well charming. A+!”

So yes, extention english would be my subject...And I would totally be a hot tilf. I would use those pointy-sticky-things to bash anyone who was ‘naughty’ and always be dropping things I have to bend over and pick up – HOW UNFORTUNATE. 10 points for each guy seduced each class. I COULD GET A STICKER CHART, YES!

Anyway, I’ve just typed this over the course of today, becuase I can learn absolutley nothing else this term. I cannot. I refuse. Let me be ignorant and dull in peace and quiet. For now my asparations are aimed at getting on Gypsy Weddings, where I can wear ugg boots and tiaras and service men's needs in the kitchen and our trailer. 

I'll be off now. I know this post has been spectacularly un-amazing, so I'll compensate for you.
Just be grateful Johnny's parents weren't the one in five I mentioned before.

Isn't that nice?

kbye xox

Lil bit of paedophilia

As promised earlier today. xo gossip goat.

A man, alone, in a room.

The man sits in silence.

The day I met Lilith was the one singular most important event in the history of my life. Not that I’m attributing much to said life – havnt’t walked on the moon, still can’t follow politics beyond the Sunday cartoon and I sure don’t think I’ll be winning the Nobel Prize next week. But Lilith...she may not be a little golden statue, something to ever so humbly explain to guests as she sits on my mantle basking in unwarranted love, but she remains my greatest achievement. Or maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she doesn’t want to ‘remain’ my achievement at all. That’s what she said to me you know. She turned up those periwinkle eyes – Jeepers Creepers, where’d ya get those peepers? – opened the pout of her mouth and stoutly said “Enough is enough Bernard. This is over.” She couldn’t even reference our lives as ‘us’. It was a ‘this’ to her. Lilith was never quite so taken was grammar as I was. She thought I was nit-picky, a stick in the mud. Swinging my hand as we laughed along she would say “Bear you old thing, take a chill pill already!” and flew off elsewhere. Her precious wings caught flight of winds i was too disenchanted to catch – I watched her spiral into the distance. I never dreamed that distance would be more than physical space. And yet.

The man sits in silence.

Full name is Bernard Oswald Gunge, residence 21 Oxham street London, age completely irrelevant. That was always my biography, self-constructed. Whenever Lilith proclaimed it, it became a growling sentient being that ripped and howled until it was quite obvious that the facts were as disturbing as our thoughts were hopeful.  This is how she used to say it:

Full name Bernard Oswald Gunge, residence apartment 1b 21 Oxham street London, age far too old and completely relevant.

Then she would sigh, dolefully. Sigh and sigh until it sounded as waves on the shore, ever present and ever coming. Sure as sure she would sigh her ocean call. And yet.

The man sits in silence.

She told me she loved me. At a completely inappropriate time, too. It was really a nuisance at the time, but I suppose that’s just bloody Shakespeare irony at play isn’t it. Ha ha. Funny. The more I think about it the more hilarious it is, really. She tells me she loves me – I say no no my pet you don’t love me, go off and explore the world – then she says no don’t make me leave you my dear  - and i acquiesce and then explore what’s been sequestered away in my heart and find  - no Lilith I was wrong you must stay please – no no Bear. No Bernard, you were right. You were right to tell me to leave. I was wrong. This is wrong. 16 years apart too wrong. And yet.

The man sits in silence.

And yet I still can’t believe that I told you to leave me.  And as our mindsets slipped past each other in opinion, from one polar to the opposite we swapped, that nothing caught each other? No small catch of eye or brush of hand was enough to make you stay? Yes I know I told you to leave but I was wrong my darling I was wrong, and I’m sorry and I told you that but you really don’t understand what I’m going through. No you don’t, you never understood because you never listened to me, and when i put my hands on the soft sides of your face to make you listen  - to make you see  - you resented me doing that didn’t you well you shouldn’t have because I knew best and this has only happened because you put your two cents in when you didn’t need to and now look  you swung your eyes onto the dark horizon rather than my heart where you told me they would always lie (lay there lying to me).  And there you saw the chasm between my two rickety digits and your two spritely digits. You saw it. You saw it you saw it you did you did you did. You saw it don’t deny that you did you liar you always lied to me you bloody cheating heart-killer but –

Stay my darling my love how i miss you how i scream in agony that you aren’t here. god Lilith it’s all so loud and I can’t stop screaming and it’s all hear in front of me, the truth of us, that I killed us quicker than a cyanide shot glass and we never would have worked, 16 years of unlikelyness that only hit me in reality when my heart had sunken into fantasy my love my sweet pet how i miss you how i scream for your hand on mine you know i think one of us has to go because if we are apart we might as well be dead don’t you think my dear what do you say darling just what do you think about that you damn -

The man sits in silence.

AWOL

Hello my pets!


Yes. I know. I know it's been approximately three thousand years since I have last written (yes that was technically correct).


BUT I HAVE THE BEST EXCUSE/REASON/JUSTIFICATION EVAR.


I forgot my password. To ALL my gmail accounts! And although generally Google is pretty chill and happy to be in a relationship with me, on attempted recovery of my password we had some issues to work through. Firstly it thought I was trying to hack in and steal bitches money, then it thought i wasn't who I said I was, he thought I was seeing other browsers etc etc...
I think in the end it was just too embarrassed to realise that it was wrong and give me the damn password. After mediation with an impartial third party, the lovely tech savy Kate, we worked it out, and things are once more a motion-picture-flowery-meadow-of-google-and-Sophia-eternal-love.


LIKE I WOULD CHEAT ON GOOGLE WITH INTERNET EXPLORER ANYWAY.
I wouldn't let that browser 'explore' me even if he promised no YouTube adds. Bitch please. Can II provide me with Jonny Depp browser backgrounds? NO. Didn't think so. NOT INTERESTED BUDDY.


Now I'm having deep and meaningful creative thoughts about the logistics of a computer-person relationship. Possible? Probable? Perfect?
Hmm.


Well, it would be handy for setting the mood. Like you know how you listen to a song and your all like "OMG THIS IS THE PERFECT SONG FOR WHEN I MARRY THAT GUY THAT LOOKED AT ME ONCE FROM ACROSS THE STREET ILY JEROME!!!" ? Dating Google, he would obviously be the baus of YouTube, and he would set dat mood RITE. Having a cuddly moment? Bon Iver. Having some lols?  Search up dat Kreyshaun. Your entire life would be sound tracked and delightful and then I could maybe finally achieve the life goal of living The Notebook. Yes.


HAHA AND SO MANY GOOD JOKES TO MAKE
"Baby, you can delete your history with me any day ;)"
"Error 301? Damn. I must be getting a little overheated...your gonna need to restart my system OH YEAH"
"I love the sound of your keystrokes. Want to hear mine....?"


Actually but on that note, history. Could get awks. I'm a pretttty open person except about really deep personal stuff, but even I recognise that there are boundaries in info sharing. You do not just walk up to an acquaintance and tell them about the crazy animal porn you were watching last night. IF YOU DATED GOOGLE....YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO SAY IT.
He would just know.
As soon as you walked into aforementioned hypothetical room, he would just look at your with his screen-brightened eyes and JUDGE YOU.
And you probably deserve to be judged if you were watching that, that's just nasty haha.


ANYWAY must be off to WOZ rehearsals...I will post some actual writing on here sooner or later :) kbye