Category Archives: Trivial Pursuits

The Keyboard I’m Writing This On Feels Nice To Touch.

It’s true. It’s like my fingers are being gently massaged as they type, also I think someone has attached a silencer to the keys because the clickity-click normally associated with typing, trains and annoying children with four-click pens is notably absent. Instead there’s a sort of muted popping sound. Think the faint buzzing sound of popping candy that can be heard through your jaw as you chew. That’s what this keyboard sounds like. Popping candy. Which doesn’t so much pop as it does fizzle and slighty tickle the gums and molars. Anyway the whole thing gives a very Zen like aura to the business of typing. I feel like I am typing this out in a pristine Zen orb, that is silently floating over the planet, collecting data and information about what I believe to be an extinct Earth but is in actual fact a large piece of space fruit elaborately bruised and painted by giant God-like beings to trick people in Zen orbs into flying to close, at which point they make themselves known and devour said orbs (and their occupants) in a single Galactusian gulp.

Because that’s what Gods do: eat people. Or encourage their people to ingest them in some way. It’s a relationship entirely based on the consumption of one of the parties involved by the other, in much the same way my relationship with cake operates (except the cake rarely tries to eat me back, besides that one incident which has been put down to a bad batch of ‘Devil’s Food Cake’ that was literally made from food possessed by the Devil and subsequently tried to consume my soul as I attempted to ingest it). The Aztec gods ate the hearts of their followers (or more accurately the hearts of those who were the other side of the followers, otherwise known as everyone else). Zeus, the king of the Greek Gods, ate people all the time. And animals. And mountains. And other Gods. In fact his father, Kronos, actually ate all of his children, who were only freed when the uneaten Zeus (or Z-money to his friends) cut his nutsack off. Even moving away from the less acceptable gods and into the generally accepted Christian Omniscient Creator we find evidence of ingestion of worshippers and/or the worshipped: “This is my body, so chow down dudes?” (A gross mistranslation of the Last Supper by Tom Reed).

When consumption peppers most of the religious stories and ideas of both our past, present and future, it’s not surprising that we, as a collective race of sexual organs and a brain (often mistaken for the same thing), find ourselves eating and ingesting and absorbing kilograms and kilojules of stuff everyday. Whether it be sandwiches, shoes covered in random sections of metal or information, we perform god-like feats of ingestion every single day. So it only makes sense that as we drift away from heart-eating, ball-chopping, crucified beings we find new deities (or should that be dieties?) to worship in their place. However before I descend into the next phase of ‘Tom’s Discussion On Worship’ I want to clarify something. I like stuff. I have an iPhone, a Mac, a Kindle and Nintendo DS (SUBTLE TECHNOLOGICAL PISSING CONTEST). I like to spend money on various things ranging from delicious to comfortable. This is not necessarily a rant on the dangers of consumerism and capitalism and consumption and all the other stuff that the Socialist Alternatives yell about while they ironically (either deliberately or not) try to hock badges to unsuspecting victims. So before you roll your eyes, put your headphones in and cross the street to avoid me (although that is still an excellent idea) hear me out. because once again this is not an anti-capitalist rant from a guy wearing a beret and assuming it makes him look like Che (I saw this the other day…it just made him look like a douche). This is instead me making a statement of sorts about the new forms of Gods/Worshipped Beings we create/manifest/give birth to in this modern-day. Because it’s time for a new reign of Gods. Specifically multiple as I think the need for the plural is important because in this modern age we prefer to have options…so why not have multiple Gods rather than an individual being that is so hard to reach even his most loyal follower gave up (TWO POINTS FOR A BENEDICT MENTION)?! If you disagree with me, then may The Great Troll who controls the Internet spam and frustrate you for eternity.

Essentially I feel that the New Order of Gods be broken into three distinct categories: Merciful Benefactors, Ambivalent Extras and Assholes of Infinite Power. In the Merciful Benefactors category you would find the sorts of divine beings that behave in a way that is generally favourable towards mankind (I want to clarify that because these gods are ones that we are creating for ourselves we have to take the assumption that we are the single most important aspect in the Universe, so to all of those who are already firing up their objection machines to inform me that this is a selfish and ignorant act, shut up. I’m inventing gods. I am literally a creator of Creators…) and are responsible for ‘nice’ things. This would include Mr Kathmandu, who lacks a head and instead possess a helium balloon in the vacant space where his head should and is responsible for balloons, balloon animals and other sources of  inflatable entertainment (big hit with the kids). He lives in a jumping castle and is summoned by inhaling all of the helium from a balloon and chanting a special ritual. Or the equally affable Barock Of Holey Pockets, who smiles kindly on poor students and their ilk by strategically dropping small to mid ranged notes in gutters, bushes and garden beds when he goes a-walking at night. Named for the large coat pockmarked with holes just the right size for money to fall through (not to be confused with your run-of-the-mill flasher/crazy homeless man). There’s also Bert, the god of popcorn chicken, The Heir of Dog, who can cure hangovers with his breath, Wiffles O’Rourke, the Irish Goddess of cider whose tears are said to be delicious, and The Spacerbaby, a strange infantile creature that can manipulate the very fabric of space in order to ease traffic congestion and create parking spaces. All of these fall under the rank of Merciful Benefactors.

Next we move into perhaps the largest category of beings, spirits and demi-persons (as they prefer to be called, because this isn’t the Sixties): Ambivalent Extras. These gods are more like us than the Merciful Benefactors in the sense that they can switch their general outlook on humanity from ‘smiles’ to ‘fuck off and die’ on a whim. Generally though they behave in mysterious ways that don’t always make sense to mere mortals such as ourselves, hence their title of ambivalent. These include beings like The Prince of Likes, who patrols social media sites and randomly adds likes or dislikes. The Prince is a wily, trickster who has been responsible for ruining several celebrity careers and launching many Facebook profiles from the doldrums of the Internet into the stratosphere of Likes and Comments. He is said to occasionally appear in Instagram filters of popular or well-received insta-users and can be summoned by the use of #princeoflikesibeesechthee. Another notable example is Yarni The Clean Yet Defiled, who is the patron demi-god of public restrooms. On a good day Yarni is quiet and peaceful, dribbling soap from her many soap teats, however if she is in a foul mood than whichever restroom she has decided to reside in for the day will be left in state of shit smearing and drowning in ambiguous liquids. We also have Brambles The Taxi-Driver, whose concept of time is greatly varied from that of a normal human being and as a result can take anywhere between 5 minutes and six days to get to a destination, The Spirit of Public Graffito, who can appear in anything from a penis carved into a desk to a glorious wall mural painted by some hipster maestro, and The Ultimate Hipster, whose occasional good deeds are only dwarfed by the pretense and bad attitude with which he occasionally carries them out.

Finally we have The Assholes of Infinite Power who fall into this category because they either a) live only to cause pain and misery on their mortal subjects, b) control or associated with things that generally seen as ‘shithouse’ or ‘fucking awful’ or c) a combination of both plus a bit of added malicious name calling. These include the infamous Schizoid Mary, a strange demonic spirit that manifests in the form of crazy people on public transport (it should be noted that those under the influence of Schizoid Mary are never able to remember what they did while possessed and most of them a genuinely lovely people who have jobs, families and enjoy reading books). There’s Olgoth, a particularly devious trickster who feeds on commuter frustration like some sort of succubus, who uses his awesome powers to cancel trams, trains and buses and occasionally has been known to devote all of his energies into holding up airports for several hours. The Mayor of Struggletown is a nasty overlord who imprisons unsuspecting foes in a vicious re-election cycle were they are forced to switch places for anywhere between a couple of hours to several days, making them lethargic and irritable. But perhaps one of the most notorious members of this particular group is Wilful Dennis, who is universally feared for his ability to just fuck your life up royally for no other reason than it pleases him to do so. The worst thing about Dennis is that he can only be summoned accidentally, whenever someone verbally confirms that their life is actually going pretty well. What a dick. Rounding out this miserly lot are a collection of bastards called The Awful Trio, comprised of Ashley The Terrible, who hides car keys, phone chargers etc, David The Reckless, who just breaks things whilst you are using them, and George The Tenacious, who spreads rumours about everyone and generally causes arguments and workplace harassment disputes.

So I should probably go back to the thing I was doing before this started, but I just had to do lots of typing because this keyboard is actually like Jesus’ tears. Actually. Healing properties etc. I hope you enjoyed this long and meaningless list of things.  I did. But I am biased as all get out.




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An Urban Bestiary

It has come to my attention that I never made good on my promise. Actually I don’t like that word there, that ‘promise’. It carries with it too much weight. There’s a dangerous amount of expectation heaped on a word like ‘promise’. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not great at expectations (ALMOST A DICKENS REFERENCE), so instead I would like to use the word suggestion in its place (because ‘suggestion’ carries with it a beautiful amount of sieve-like loopholes for escaping). See I feel better already.

Air knee weighs, the suggestion in question came a few posts back. Back when I was procrastinating with fear experimentation and scaring myself shitless by playing ‘Slender’. I have since stopped playing ‘Slender’ because I know that I will never win. Ever. No it’s not for lack of trying, I have tried and I have actually improved since we last spoke. It’s more of the fakt that I can never physically complete the game as I point-blank refuse to go into that freaky, abandoned toilet-block building with the blood stains and the tipped over chairs (seriously what the fuck happened there?). It’s just not going to happen.

“Oh come on Tom, you’re being so silly, that’s not in the spirit of the game…” No. Your logic and reasoning can climb inside a parked car out the front of the pokies and slowly suffocate while its slotjockey mother (you) goes to town on Aztec Madness. I am not bending to the whims of horror tropes and have decided that I can only behave so stupidly for so long. I am willing to accept the fakt that I am wandering through a dark and spooky forest in search of some frightful entity of death and terror armed with only a flashlight for no discernible reason. And I am willing to accept that I will continue to wander through this forest and not GTFO when said entity begins stalking me while I collect really unhelpful pieces of paper telling me to do exactly not that. But I draw the line at going into a cramped space where something illogically bad has gone down, with the knowledge that if I take a wrong turn I am going to be nightmare-fuelled by Slender-man.  That, my friends, is what I call: Asking for it.

Which brings me, in a very round-a-bout way, to the aforementioned suggestion. As mentioned in that post, I wanted to discuss creatures and monstrosities at length. However I postponed that (SURPRISE THAT’S WHAT I DO) and wrote about some other shit instead. So here for your enjoyment is the first edition (and knowing me, only) of the Urban Bestiary (because I already had half the category ready to go). Essentially I am attempting to categorise and describe an assortment of weird and wonderful beasties that reside in and around the city (around meaning as far as Queenscliff and in meaning my shower). Maybe I can ‘suggest’ (not promise) to do this once a month in-between the rest of my text-based vomit. But you know…don’t hold me to it because it’s only a suggestion and I can slip out of aforementioned sieve-like loopholes. But into the breach we must go…

Entry #01: Clipboardicusci Pesteri (The Clipboarded Wasp)

The Clipboarded Wasp lurks around Universities, shopping centres, state libraries and other central locations with a high population density. They do not resemble wasps, but instead come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, however most of them resemble back-packers of varying ethnicities and possess a great deal of charisma and charm, a necessary attribute for luring unsuspecting prey. The Clipboarded Wasp live in complex social groups or ‘hives’ and wear some sort of mark to signify which ‘hive’ they represent. They travel in groups of threes or fours referred to as ‘guilt-trips’ or ‘enthusiasms’, and they use their numbers to overwhelm their prey.

Despite their ability to disguise themselves as international travellers and/or friendly University students, there are a few tell-tale signs that will allow one to identify the Clipboarded Wasp. As mentioned above they will possess some sort of marking to inform others of their ‘hive’ allegiance. This may be in the form of a lanyard, a logo on a polo shirt or an insignia on a cap. This marking is used to inform other Clipboarded Wasps that this territory has already been claimed as well as signal other members of the same ‘hive’. The other warning sign to look out for is an outstretched hand accompanied with darting eyes. The hand is used to lure someone into a handshake, while the eyes are constantly darting around to look for someone else in case the handshake is ignored by the chosen passersby. The final and most obvious thing to look out for is a clipboard clutched tightly to the chest.

The Clipboarded Wasp attempts to lure prey into entering a conversation about charitable causes or livestock abuse in order to slowly draw the life-force of the intended victim. The longer the conversation goes, the stronger the Wasp becomes. The victim of an attack may suddenly feel lethargic, guilty and compelled to sign some document. If you find yourself in the clutches of a Clipboarded Wasp, do not sign any documentation. Doing this serves as an invitation for other members of that Wasp’s hive to come and feed on you. The Clipboarded Wasp has several weaknesses but the best course of action when dealing with a Wasp is to avoid making eye-contact. Just keep your head down and forge ahead. Ipods and other MP3 devices have also been shown to have an excellent neutralizing effect.

In extreme cases you can attempt some of the following:

1. Impersonation: Carry a clipboard with you when venturing near known hotspots and the Wasps may mistake you for another Wasp from a different hive. However this comes with several risks, including accidentally engaging the Wasp in a battle for territory.

2. Religious Defence: Pretend to be a member of an extremely organised religion. Wasps aren’t drawn to anything that is already a member of tight-knit community, especially if that tight-knit community borders on a religious cult. However this may make you the target of the equally dangerous Religious Mosquito (Religiata Pesteri) or Political Parasite (Socialistiscus Athesi Pesteri).

3. Fake Identity: If you find yourself trapped by a Clipboarded Wasp and about to sign some form of documentation, you can create fake details in order to get away from them. The catch with this is, if you do go down this path you may be unwittingly condemning someone else to a life of email spamming and moderately threatening anonymous texts about various causes.



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Essay Writing, Avoidance Of…

I should be doing an essay right now. Odds are you should be too.

I recently went through and itemised all of the essays, assignments and assorted paraphernalia that I have to do for Uni before the semester is over (in two weeks). The list was daunting and the dates attached to said items…painfully close. If I was a normal person I would be focussing all of my attention on completing said tasks but instead I have been conducting experiments on my fear threshold and thinking about the kinds of people I could make on The Sims if only I could find the required disks to play it again (probably a blessing in disguise that I haven’t because then my procrastination levels would reach CRITICAL MASS and I would explode in a shower of not doing my assignments).

At the moment my procrastination levels are sitting at an alarming (but not dangerous) EASILY AND WILFULLY DISTRACTED. I should be completing a journal due next Wednesday and writing philosophical reports that are due in a week…but instead I have been seduced by something much stronger than academia (which could be anything at all when you think about): Fear.

I have become an addict of terror, and I mean it. This isn’t just some writer hyperbole to make my life sound more interesting like an imaginary collection of monsters living in my apartment (although a small goblin has taken refuge in the freezer box after being drawn there by left-over slurpee from BYO Cup Day at 7Eleven. He’s proving quite difficult and won’t be coaxed out with bread crumbs like the last one). This is super serial you guys. I know this now after watching an interview with Russell Brand on Sixty Minutes…

You see he defined his addictions as a repeated engagement in an activity even though you know it’s detrimental to you (although I’m pretty sure that’s not Brand’s definition as it is probably shared by psychologists and school nurses the world over). After thorough examination of my psyche, I have come to conclusion that I too am participating in this sort of behaviour…although before you freak out and think I’m a meth (couldn’t afford it) and/or sex (not enough stamina) addict, allow me to clarify that my addiction is of the ‘not worth going to celebrity rehab’ variety.

As I mentioned above my current addiction stems from fear, and the willing search for said emotion through a single means: playing computer games (or game, singular in this case). I’ve recently, and tragically, discovered ‘Slender’. For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, it’s not a porn fetish featuring starving refugees. No. It’s a terrifying video game based around the Internet created monstrosity known as The Slender Man. Included below is an image of said creation…in of all his faceless, slender glory. Below that is a brief history of said nightmare fuel.

Top right. Tall thing. Weird smokey tentacles. No face. Nightmares all the time.

The Slender Man is an urban myth popularised and created by the Internet (it’s kind of cool how social media has replaced the campfire with the creation of nightmare spawn). With its origins traced back to a Photoshop competition, similar to the above image, the myth has since grown into an uber-legend and has invaded the Zeitgeist on the back of a series of copycat photos and found-footage YouTube videos (my first experience of which was the brilliant Marble Hornets series…I’d include a link but I’m lazy and if you’re really interested you can just Google that shit). The back story came after the initial photo but is best described as a tall, faceless, creature/man steals kids and kills anyone who crosses his path.

The Slender Man’s habitat of choice is woods. Usually creepy. However he has been known to descend into cities and towns like a wraith and, in some instances, into houses (he’s probably right behind you right now as you’re reading this…please don’t turn around). Characterised by his plain dark suit, abnormally slender body shape and faceless orb for a head, The Slender Man’s rise to fame is no small part due the relatable horror and simple imagery at play here. I mean come on: You see it. You freak out. It’s not complicated. It’s not Biblical. It’s just unsettling as all buggery (Uncanny Valley…maybe that will be for another post). Also adding further to the mythos is the docu-real-this-is-a-true-story-happened-to-a-friend-of-my-cousin aspect, planting small seeds of doubt that maybe this isn’t a hoax.

Anyway enough exposition, the game in question that has been testing my nerves and ruining my study habits is a simple game that can be downloaded from any internet-able (please don’t judge my made-up words) source. It’s a first-person style game, where the player wanders through a creepy as fuck forest with a flashlight. The controls are simple, you walk around moving the flashlight across misty woodlands and abandoned trucks/toilet-blocks etc. The objective? Collect 8 pages randomly placed throughout the game. Simple.

Until you get the first page and suddenly the sound of footsteps on gravel is joined by eerie music and your heartbeat…and every now and again your torchlight catches glimpses of towering, slender, faceless figure in the shadows…at which point you have to RUN THE FUCK AWAY or you die. Yeah. I’ve only got three pages max before I’ve succumbed to the Slender Man’s stalking. Oh and if you keep your torch on too long it dies. And if you turn around he will most likely be behind you but because the game operates on a randomly generated system sometimes he’s not and why is blood pressure rising and what is the wet sensation running down my leg into my socks…

It’s that kind of experience…and despite the fakt that I am absolutely hopeless and can barely keep it together once the heartbeat starts and I collect my first page…I continually find myself replaying the game over and over. I begin playing and two minutes in I start to question my sanity, because why am I doing this again? Oh god I am so scared…OH MY GOD THERE HE IS!

So that’s what I’ve been doing instead of researching my Cinema Studies essay or re-drafting my screenplay. I’ve been willingly engaging in an activity that is making me shit my pants in fright. I need help. Or better control of my bowels. Whatever. That’s all for today. Sweet dreams…?


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And Then You Meet Your Childhood Hero…

I recently celebrated twenty-one years without serious injury or accidental death. It was a momentous occasion, celebrated in true style with a Batman themed colour scheme in the club rooms of a football club I have absolutely no affiliation with. If that’s not a twenty-first birthday party then…well okay…I’ll probably get over it. Anyways it marked my 21 years of being a person on this Earth, instead of being a manatee (which is a real possibility people so you better buy those African Anti-Manatee Charms from that dude near the bus-stop who smells like horse-shit and paint) and was pretty excellent. However perhaps one of the coolest things to stem from my twenty-first transformation (no transformation was had which was disappointing…) was the gift I received from my familiars.

It wasn’t a Bat-mobile, clearly missed that memo Mum, it was a single ticket to see my childhood hero Sir David Attenborough at his live show in Melbourne. Single ticket. Yes. I am a badass. Yes. I am over here. And yes…looks like. Back onto the point (lol POINT): I was going to see my childhood hero live. In the flesh. On stage. We were going to occupying the same building…there was a very real chance he would be breathing the same air I was breathing…we may even end up sharing a molecule or two..

Well that show was on the 18th. It is now the 20th. I have seen my idol in person. I have heard his words. I have breathed his air (sounds gay, it’s not…promise). I have affirmed my belief that my single ticket was the best 21st birthday present ever.

Let’s expand upon the notion of childhood heroes. They are the single most important part of a person’s growth from a kid to a semi-serious, adult (or manchild). Think back to your childhood hero or role model and think of what having someone like that to look up to did for you…or conversely think about your lack of such a person in your life as you carve another notch into the prison wall beside your bed. I’m joking. But only because I’m deadly serious. See. I even typographically altered the word deadly to emphasise my point (FUCK YOU AMERICAN SPELL CHECK I WILL NOT PUT A “Z” IN THERE!). Seriously though, I idolised this guy. I had videos, yes hipsters we are the same, of his documentaries. I borrowed the same doco on killer whales from the library about three times a month because it brought me closer to the man I admired…hell…the man I wanted to be. While other kids were being Superman or Ronald Reagan I was walking around my background narrating imaginary animals in a rich British accent.

It’s always dicey when a childhood hero is seen in real-time. It can go several ways, most of them ending in bitter disappointment and a drinking habit, which is why many people often try to distance themselves from their idols or choosing new ones as time wears one. It makes the possibility that your childhood idol is really a tool easier to bear. So going to see my idol live was always going to interesting…what if he was crazy? What if he was boring? What if his voice sounded nothing like it did in all of those movies about seals and lizards?

Fortunately for me this was not the case. My fondness for Sir David (cos I like met him sort of we’re on first name basis…but you’re all so jelly) has only grown since seeing him speak. This is a man who has achieved so much in his 86 years that it could equate to fourteen different lifetimes. I sat there the entire time in state of bewildered rapture, it was a state that transported me back to that little boy running around the background narrating his dog instantly. It was amazing. In fakt it had such a profound effect on me that I immediately went to the library and borrowed two of his books that haven’t read and a DVD I hadn’t seen. Old habits and that Bruce Willis franchise I suppose.

A night in the presence of the king of natural history wouldn’t be the same if it didn’t also include learning. And not the lame kind that your father insists is a part of basically everything ever invented ever (no Dad a highway does not make me feel happy about not being car bombed you weird, weird man). So here are some fakts I took away with me that night (no-one noticed that I took them so I think I’m in the clear).

Things That Sir David Attenborough Taught Me Besides The Rediscovery Of Childhood Wonder

1. That blue whales can hold their breath from anywhere between 30 to 40 minutes at a time, and when they come up to take a big gulp of air they tend to only surface for around about 90 seconds. This makes filming them very difficult…but when you do it’s amazing.

2. That ‘David Attenborough’ when spoken aloud over a shitty radio sounds a lot like ‘Duke of Edinburgh’ hence why an island tribe in New Guinea greeted David as though he was royalty when they came to film a doco there. This included a rendition of ‘God Save The Queen’…that featured all of the verses, including the ones no-one knows.

3. His favourite animal is a human baby, but because Ray Martin wasn’t satisfied with this answer he changed it to the Bird of Paradise, which is so named due the fakt that it was first presented to the Western world stuffed and without wings or feet. This prompted questions from those who had received it, which were answered with the explanation that the birds were from ‘paradise’ and floated between the clouds feeding on condensation and crashed to Earth upon their death.  This was seen as fakt and was printed in many natural history books on the subject. Obviously this has been changed as we now know they eat more than condensation. They also eat baby’s laughter and rainbows.

4. If you put an axolotl in a tank, fill it with water and then sporadically add something called thyroxine to the water, the axolotl will lose its gills and leave the water, becoming a land based animal. This is because an axolotl is actually the larval stage of a Mexican salamander that can remain in the larval stage and still reproduce (kind of like teenage mothers…)

That’s all for now. Have a nice evening and if you must wear crocs…do it discreetly….


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The camera slowly pans across the room, it is in a state of disarray. The couch lies tipped on it’s side, a small coffee table is in two crumbling halves and the bookshelf, along with it’s contents, leans haphazardly against the fridge. Scorch marks dot the carpet and several large knives jut from the walls-obviously thrown with force. Along the same wall is a dull, red smear that resembles blood. Tufts of hair litter the floor and there are deep gouge marks in the T.V. Something nasty has gone down in this apartment…

The camera sweeps around at the sound of a shotgun being reloaded. There, crouched behind the flipped dining table, is a YOUNG MAN. He’s maybe twenty-one tops and is decked out in facial hair and snorkel mask. He stares at something unseen with bloodshot eyes, a single bleeding cut trickles from his cheek. He brings the shotgun up to his shoulder.

Time to die motherfucker…

He loosens off a shot and there is horrible sound akin to pig dying and a bear farting. He fires another one and the noise stops. He sighs and drops the gun to the floor, eyes closed with relief. Suddenly a growl starts up from across the room. The man’s eyes fling open and he let’s out a scream as something large and furry rushes him…FADE TO CREDITS.

I am a someone of notoriety. That is to say I have something that I am notorious for. It’s nothing major, I’ve never robbed a bank or been arrested for wrestling a bear in public (they were only allegations). I am notorious for never finishing a thing ever. I have started many various hobbies/pursuits with full gusto and bravado only to become distracted by a moth at the last second.

So I have decided rather than fight my natural instinct for procrastination and distraction, I would finally embrace it and try to turn it into something positive (or at the very least productive). So I present to you, the good people of *mumble* a series of interconnected but wholly unrelated thoughts and musings. Basically I’m going to break this blog into five main categories: Life & Times Of, Trivial Pursuits, Creative Catharsis, List-o-mania and Urban Monsters.

Below is a field guide to these categoricals:

Life & Times Of: Anecdotes and Reflections on daily activities, relevance/amusement levels may vary. Best served with a side of white wine and salad. Not to be administered to anyone with glandular problems.

Trivial Pursuits: As an avid trivia participator and pointless fakt absorber I will endeavour to broaden your horizons with some useless information that may just come in handy one day should you ever find yourself in a life -or-death trivia based situation.

Creative Catharsis: Being a would-be writer I may occasionally use this blog for either shameless self-promotion of my own work or as a brainstorming environment for ideas. You know because using your inner most thoughts as a creative process is only made more interesting by sharing that process with the collective interwebs.

List-o-mania: Lists of things. Pretty fucking boring actually.

Urban Monsters: The continuing story of three people living in an apartment trying to deal with an unwanted guest residing in the closet and various other enclosed spaces. (See interlude above)

I give you fair warning now that this is a scattershot assortment of things and nonsense and that your involvement in the following my cause respiratory problems, dizziness, heightened sense of self, sore gums, receding hairlines, erectile dysfunction and spontaneous thumb pregnancy.

So please come along for the ride as I attempt to do this thing…I can’t promise how frequent my postings will be (I shall aim for one or two a week…maybe even more) and leave it at that. Have a wonderful day (and not in a patronising way at all…which only makes it sound even more patronising).


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Filed under Creative Catharsis, Life & Times Of, List-o-mania, Trivial Pursuits, Urban Monsters