Do you have any idea how many bats live in Melbourne? Every crevice is filled with them. They truly haunt the skies. You cannot walk the streets.
I'm done. Screw this. I'm going home.
Effin' Bats.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
That's it! I quit! - Oct 23. 2007
You know what? I didn't sign up for this. It's not in my contract.
Do you have any idea how many bats live in Melbourne? Every crevice is filled with them. They truly haunt the skies. You cannot walk the streets.
Do you have any idea how many bats live in Melbourne? Every crevice is filled with them. They truly haunt the skies. You cannot walk the streets.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
In a city by the bay - Oct. 22, 2007
And so the heated days of summer burst upon our fated adventurer, freed, as he was, from the weighted burden of melted halloween candy, content to wander the sunny slopes.
34 degrees and burning in Melbourne yesterday. Great plans leapt from my brow and fizzled, screaming into the summer heat. Plan number one: Get on train, go to coast. Brilliant.
Outcome of plan number one?
:
34 degrees and burning in Melbourne yesterday. Great plans leapt from my brow and fizzled, screaming into the summer heat. Plan number one: Get on train, go to coast. Brilliant.
Outcome of plan number one?
:
Gonna be a loooong summer.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Donde es tu Sol? - October 15th, 2007
Holy smokes, wading deep into summer here, our first 27 degree day that just aches of being...normal. Hoo boy she's gonna be a hot summer.
Desperately throwing on loose knit clothes, helpless in a closet of black attire formed by use into some sort of geological strata of futility. Mainly, and I mean almost totally, gripped by a happy missing and longing aimed squarely at the summers of past and the friends that strung upon them.
What I wouldn't give to have woken up this morning in a kiddie pool, outside the frat house, beers floating around my sun baked corpse as we while away the hours with Frisbee and drinking board games, horrific forties of malt liquor brandishing our defiance to the sun's rays.
Or, cooked and gasping, a thin layer of sweat resembling desperation, lurching onto the living pale streets of Chapala, Mexico. Gringo skin somehow radiating heat like a highway mirage, every waking moment driven to the next cold cerveza and three leche cake.
Or perhaps this day could be bartered for the company of Halifax, the cavalcade of performers, improvisational life, drifting through tangle of SpringGarden road and the rocky shores. Maybe the silent mountains of the yukon, and the stillness of days stretched across your eyes, a sun that no one told to sleep.
Sigh, Miss you all, life is exultant, but summer days, well, they always remind me of the glories of the past. Yours, nick
Desperately throwing on loose knit clothes, helpless in a closet of black attire formed by use into some sort of geological strata of futility. Mainly, and I mean almost totally, gripped by a happy missing and longing aimed squarely at the summers of past and the friends that strung upon them.
What I wouldn't give to have woken up this morning in a kiddie pool, outside the frat house, beers floating around my sun baked corpse as we while away the hours with Frisbee and drinking board games, horrific forties of malt liquor brandishing our defiance to the sun's rays.
Or, cooked and gasping, a thin layer of sweat resembling desperation, lurching onto the living pale streets of Chapala, Mexico. Gringo skin somehow radiating heat like a highway mirage, every waking moment driven to the next cold cerveza and three leche cake.
Or perhaps this day could be bartered for the company of Halifax, the cavalcade of performers, improvisational life, drifting through tangle of SpringGarden road and the rocky shores. Maybe the silent mountains of the yukon, and the stillness of days stretched across your eyes, a sun that no one told to sleep.
Sigh, Miss you all, life is exultant, but summer days, well, they always remind me of the glories of the past. Yours, nick
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
In Nauseum - October 10th, 2007
Hey hey,
Radiohead's seventh album came out today, for all of you not "in the know:.
I suppose the most magical part of the whole experience is that, since they are happily without a label, they are releasing the album via download at www.inrainbows.com
and, you pay what you want. Brilliant. Find the wreckage of a music industry smoldering in a plastic-wrapped crater. So, if you want the new album, it's yours, or if you're a Radiohead fan, it's only 15 pounds. Steal.
Anywho, check you out tomorrow, from my Yorke-inspired bliss cocoon.
Nick
p.s. (I ever tell you guys about the dream I had where I hung out with Thom Yorke all day and he told me I was his greatest fan? I am that big a loser.)
Radiohead's seventh album came out today, for all of you not "in the know:.
I suppose the most magical part of the whole experience is that, since they are happily without a label, they are releasing the album via download at www.inrainbows.com
and, you pay what you want. Brilliant. Find the wreckage of a music industry smoldering in a plastic-wrapped crater. So, if you want the new album, it's yours, or if you're a Radiohead fan, it's only 15 pounds. Steal.
Anywho, check you out tomorrow, from my Yorke-inspired bliss cocoon.
Nick
p.s. (I ever tell you guys about the dream I had where I hung out with Thom Yorke all day and he told me I was his greatest fan? I am that big a loser.)
Monday, October 8, 2007
After the cliffs. - October 08, 2007
Hello again everyone.
Rough and terrible time last week, but from aqua into unda all deaths pass from the concrete to the imagined. The guilt of watching a friend's memory drift from that daily horror, the solid mass of grief that heralds your hours, into a manageable trivia, is omnipresent. So I bid my friend Ross farewell, shuffled off to the book cases of our memory, not often to be remembered, the brutal taxing of our days. The way it is, I guess, the way it will be.
Like I said though, moving on, got out on Sunday to the Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostles, which are a bunch of wicked huge rocks all smashed up standing on the coast. Really cool, photos are below.
Will go on more about life tomorrow, when I feel a bit less guilty about living my life, in the face of the forfeited.
Rough and terrible time last week, but from aqua into unda all deaths pass from the concrete to the imagined. The guilt of watching a friend's memory drift from that daily horror, the solid mass of grief that heralds your hours, into a manageable trivia, is omnipresent. So I bid my friend Ross farewell, shuffled off to the book cases of our memory, not often to be remembered, the brutal taxing of our days. The way it is, I guess, the way it will be.
Like I said though, moving on, got out on Sunday to the Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostles, which are a bunch of wicked huge rocks all smashed up standing on the coast. Really cool, photos are below.
Will go on more about life tomorrow, when I feel a bit less guilty about living my life, in the face of the forfeited.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Sunday, September 30, 2007
For the birds... - October 1, 2007
Bah!
One of the top-five worst concerts I have ever seen. Decent lazy weekend (quite rare), of cloudy weather and days spent in bed. A bit overcome with how little of the Spanish language I actually know, also filled with glee devouring the new Naomi Klein book, The Shock Doctrine.
Actually, as I stare at the horrific pile of books both spent and un-spent next to my bed, I think I will begin some sort of Nick Book-of-the-Week club. Yes, brilliant. More to come.
Caught "The War on Democracy" this weekend, heavy handed, but a simple and sobering re-telling of some of America's brutal acts in South America. For a real treat, check out any episode of "Alo Presidente" on youtube, Chavez's wickedly bizarre weekly show in Venezuela. I swear, the masses will never oust a big jolly man who wears only red and has his own tv show. Of course there was that messy business with the elves...
Anywho, to help us all deal with the disappointments of global politics and vis-a-vis, Ian's rantings, here is a video of me being attacked by Emus:
One of the top-five worst concerts I have ever seen. Decent lazy weekend (quite rare), of cloudy weather and days spent in bed. A bit overcome with how little of the Spanish language I actually know, also filled with glee devouring the new Naomi Klein book, The Shock Doctrine.
Actually, as I stare at the horrific pile of books both spent and un-spent next to my bed, I think I will begin some sort of Nick Book-of-the-Week club. Yes, brilliant. More to come.
Caught "The War on Democracy" this weekend, heavy handed, but a simple and sobering re-telling of some of America's brutal acts in South America. For a real treat, check out any episode of "Alo Presidente" on youtube, Chavez's wickedly bizarre weekly show in Venezuela. I swear, the masses will never oust a big jolly man who wears only red and has his own tv show. Of course there was that messy business with the elves...
Anywho, to help us all deal with the disappointments of global politics and vis-a-vis, Ian's rantings, here is a video of me being attacked by Emus:
Bye guys!
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