Blastoise From The Past-oise.

Yes, well done. Your astuteness is unparalleled among the parallels. This post is quite close to the last one I did, and if I’m not careful I’m going to have to entertain those nasty expectations again. Look, it’s not my fault. I just have a lot of time on my hands as mentioned previously. Time to spare. Oodles of it. Barrels full of thyme to trade for other spices with merchants from across the globe. I just used the word oodles and now I feel dirty.

Anyways I am currently absent from 503 (our Internet ran out and we have no money to reset it until payday arrives on Thursday, plus there’s a giant amphibious bat trying to get out by head-butting the windows like a moth…and that’s both annoying and slightly dangerous and I really didn’t have time to deal with that shit today) and have spent the morning wandering around the city trying to find Internet to hijack. After being forced to relocate from the neighbour’s lounge room (the guy came home and freaked out and started saying things like ‘breaking and entering’ and ‘police’ and all I wanted to do was use his Internet…and eat his cereal) I headed to Uni and set up camp in the library. I paid some stupid amenities and services fee for no fucking reason, so I feel I can use their wireless whenever I want. Anyway, it’s weird being in here now that pretty much everything else has stopped in termsof University-ness. There’s no-one here. At all. It’s got the eerie ‘lone gunman shoots up a high school’ feel going for it. Which isn’t that unsettling…

Oh wait, false alarm. I am not completely alone. Besides the restless, and I suspect randomly generated, library staff shuffling around the stacks of books, there is a couple of students tucked into corners doing secret things. Seriously there are two of them, in separate corners, that have perfected the art of making oneself totally invisible through the placement of various limbs behind various things. Both of them are totally watching porn I have decided. Why else would you be so secretive about your presence here? Unless the whole ‘massacre’ vibe is getting to them and they’ve naturally responded with making themselves scarce. Perhaps I should move to a corner? Because right now I’m just in the middle of a big empty library looking like an absolute boob.

While I was sitting out in the open, feeling like a boob and having so much thyme on my hands that I was beginning to smell like a pot roast, I was suddenly assaulted by Nostalgia. It came from nowhere, as most nostalgic assaults tend to do, and beat me senseless with childhood toys and photographs of the past. I attempted to chase it, to catch it and to inflict it with some sort of fist shaped retribution, but it was too quick for me and seemed to know the layout of the library. Besides, running in a library after Nostalgia is generally frowned upon and I soon ran afoul of one of the randomly generated librarians (jumping on his head proved to be the most effective way of disposing of him and I netted $1.35 as a result).

My run in with Nostalgia had left me reeling a little bit, a little shaky on my feet and loose in the bowels (too much information?). I staggered back to my computer and tried to fight off the inevitable pining for the past that is associated with contact with Nostalgia agents. It didn’t really work. I found myself reflecting on my High School years, my time in braces (and not the hipster, trendy kind) and eventually found myself thinking about my MySpace page. Which naturally led to me having a quick peek at the old girl.

Was it pretty? Well…well…that remains to be seen. One thing is certainly clear; I thought I was incredibly witty, and I seemed to suffer from that teenage ailment that affects us all at one stage or another—the notion of being far, far, far more complex than you actually are. Luckily I never went dark-side (read wore black and listened to bands with names involving blood, tears and tortured souls with beautiful eyes and hair). But still I couldn’t help but sit there and cringe slightly at my 15, 16 and 17-year-old self’s view of the world. Have you ever found a really old photo album belonging to your parents from the ’70s or ’80s and you sit there with them and laugh at their fashion choices and so on? Every person has that embarrassing collection of memories from an era where they hadn’t quite figured it all out yet. Now thanks to the digital age this assortment of awkward photos, anecdotes and miscellanea is out there for all to see. The faux pas’ my younger self made as a teenager are not hidden in the depths of photo albums and holiday snapshots. In cyberspace, everyone can hear you scream.

So rather than attempt to shield teenage Tom from future scorn (something I don’t think he seemed to care about, he appeared to be a lot less into other people’s perceptions and more into…Fight Club), I am going to present to you an annotated guide to Tom Reed’s MySpace profile (which is coyly titled Tom Reed’s Travelling Circus for reasons that 21-year-old me does not understand). Away we go. Apologies in advance for cringe-worthy statements.

An Annotated MySpace Profile Page.

So first we dig through the boring introduction of age, name and current educational institution. But before long we arrive at some absolute crackers, such as: I am a cinephile and bibliophile respectively.

Clearly someone had just learnt some new words. Why couldn’t I have just said that I liked movies and books you ask? Who knows. I’m pretty sure that most of my classmates would have read that as me wanting to have sex with cinnamon and bibles.

I frequently make a fool of myself by talking first and thinking it through later. So if I offend…I probably didn’t mean it…unless I did. This kid is seriously loose. Contradicting himself. Using copious ellipses. Looks like we definitely have a bad-ass over here. Although one thing hasn’t changed, my inability to think through my voicing of certain thoughts. I just articulate myself better. Although I did use the word ‘bibliophile’…

I am so glad I discovered what semi-colon’s are for; they break sentences up so I can talk about another completely seperate (So I can use grammatical tropes correctly, but not spell the word separate?) idea. Impressed?
You should be…


I don’t speak, I quote. Funnily enough, back in the day, we had to place a restriction on how long we could quote things for at parties etc. This was a ban imposed by girlfriends who were sick of trying to keep up with conversations that consisted of funny one-liners written by someone else.

I am a walking contridiction with veiny arms and a mop of brown hair. Decked out in a cartoon character adorned shirt and a pair of rocking shoes. I’m sorry everyone. This reads like a Big Brother housemate justifying their individuality to viewers when really they’re just a wanker. I wasn’t a contradiction (nor could I apparently spell it) I was just loud. And awkward.

I haven’t seen Twilight. At all. I think I am in the .0009 percent of the teenage population who has not seen it. I’m not sure what I was boasting about here. I don’t know what this means. I have now seen Twilight, just for the record. I still hate Kristen Stewart.

I wish I had superpowers…and a girlfriend. Although I would settle for either. Well younger me, mission accomplished on one front. We are still searching for the former though. All in due time.

And I think Brad Pitt still looks awesome when he takes his shirt off and starts swinging punches. Sounding suspiciously gay. I’m pretty sure 17-year-old me wasn’t aware of the homoerotic overtones of this sort of thing…I hope. Unless it’s just me being edgy again. Because that’s clearly what I thought I was back in the day. An edge.

Now, here’s the interesting part. I then turn my attention to making a list of things before I wrap the profile. A list. Me. Writing lists. It seems that old habits do truly behave like Bruce Willis’ franchises.

1. 27 is a good number. It still is.
2. Never ask me to tell you the Pink Joke if want to still like me by the end of our conversation. It’s a bad joke.
3. Watermelon trumps all other melons. Yep.
4. I have songs that remind me of certain people. Okay…attempts at being deep?
5. David Attenborough is a good bloke. True.
6. My wall is covered in crap. True. Well not as much now because it’s a shared set of walls.
7. If I was some kind of assassin/hitman I would call myself the Magician so I could use the line: I am the Magician, I make people disappear. Oh boy….
8. FALCON PUNCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Relevant.
9. I want a degree in Piracy. Of course we did…
10. Helter Skelter is a good song. Again, what does this even mean?  Did I too feel that it was telling me something Manson-esque?
11. I want to start a revolution…just so, that like Che, I can appear on T-shirts. Witty me is witty.
12. I wish I was like Vince Noir or Jack Skellington…or a combination of both. Okay. I’m not sure what this says about me, I want to be a Mod with ridiculous hair who is also a skeleton? Yep. That sounds legit.
13. The Book Thief is one of the best books I’ve ever read… I don’t understand the need for ellipses at the end of this one. It’s sort of like To Be Continued. Perhaps it’s not the best book I have ever read? Dun! Dun! Dah!
14. I believe in movies, cookie dough and bursting into song for no good reason. Okay then. Good luck with that.

So my nostalgia is running dry (see it’s no longer capitalised) and I think I have embarrassed former me enough. I hope you have had a laugh at my expense, but really what you should all do is go and explore your own MySpace pages and see what falls out when you shake it. Also I discovered the fake band me and my friends created. Yep. Here’s the link, and I recommend you listen to the track of Green Eggs & Ham performed as a rap: FAKE BAND OMG LOLZ.

Anyway, the ominous going to die vibe I’m getting from the library is almost too much. So I’m out of here.



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Filed under Life & Times Of, List-o-mania, Urban Monsters

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