I have an urget vent to projectile vomit on y'all.

It is the sylistic equivalent of a garbage truck- neo rave fashion! There seems to be a particular attachment for the last tedious expanse of time to over the top adornment. By over the top I do not simply mean excessive accesorising- although that comes into it. What I am talking about here is this look: shimmery leggings with a metallic print, oversised fluro tie-dye tee, 80's geo print bomber in rainbow colours, big earrings with some cassette tapes dangling off them and awful hi top trainers. Naturally cheap plastic chains etc must be worn on the neck. Boys might wear hot pink shorts and a t-shirt with an owl on it and some large serial killer glasses.

This 'statement' may have been interesting in early 90's japan, or perhaps even more recently in london; but when stupid sydney kids appropriate it it drives me demented. I am asserting a provincialist discourse or anything- but quite frankly this so called 'ironic' display perpetuates post-colonial dissemination and unites clutters of utter fools, scattering through the ether. It is almost certainly about display and status- those who rest beneath the clothes tend to have a characteristically ill-derived ego. They may have been the geek in glass for years- but now they can do shitloads of cocaine and prance around and feel some kind of clustering self-fulfilment. It groses me out to the max, because generally these kids have emerged from some kind of sheltered, conservative upbringing and it is almost like they feel their clothes make them stand in relief against this. They don't understand subtlety; they do apathy well and all the while pretend to give a shit about the world. Life does not have to be a mechanised routine of performance and display- the most interesting people often blend in through their understated elegance and come into relief for those with a more refined set of aesthetic principles.

Bring back classic dressing i say- round up the fluro and put it into the kind of unnatural toxic waste dump it belongs.

office unrest..

Given that Sam has recently shared her Canberra dweeb experiences; I thought I would share my Sydney ones too.

As my readers probably know, I work at a university where the general standard of clothed bodies is horrifically base.

Dweebs exist across all sectors on campus: from the lowly cleaning clerk who is forced into a navy blue prison uniform; to the highest echelons of the executive staff, where pre-pressed chino trousers reign supreme. Somewhere in the middle the student body settle- the dweeb-iest of these roam around in ill fitting short and polo combos. Accompanying the dweebs around everywhere (no matter their station) is an irritatingly nasal voice and sometimes a snotty nose without tissues. SNIFF! I have also noted that untrimmed facial hair is a common denominator (male or female).

I am thinking of weeding out all the dweebs and sending them on to Sam in canberra- she seems pretty savvy with their elimination. We'll keep you posted.

xo

spare afternoon?

a dubious theme, but I couldn't get it out of my head.

Revenge of the office nerds

You’re walking along your way to work, today you’ve decided to jazz it up with some funky boots matched with clean cuts and swanzi patterned layers. You’re hot, you’re strutting, that outfit costs a chunk of one of your fortnightly pays. This is when you feel at your best, equipped for anything. All of a sudden approaches the office dweeb. That cockroach who just has to get in your way, you stumble, this isn’t suppose to be happening, you’re a BMW not a jeep, built for appreciation and excellence not for functionality. Is this not obvious? “Hey what’s up?”. You toad, get lost, everything about you annoys me, those stupid small sunnies, that ridiculous buzz shave hair cut, you who wears the same thing everyday, or do you just have five versions of that stupid boring blue shirt?

A bad acquaintance is as bad as a badly chosen accessory, it ruins the entire ensemble. He has wrecked you’re entire image and you’re deflated.

I am writing to you all from the bubble of public servitude, that’s right, Canberra, city of hope (as one person told me) or as I prefer to call: Nerd Nation. Canberra is haunted by nerds, like a plague, they invade every decent person’s sphere. If you’re not careful you’ll find yourself in their company, or invited to a gathering/party/orgy. (YUCK)

I have had to come up with some measures to deflect nerds, as the situation has become that dire.
1) Do not reply to emails, this is a great way to say “hey, I don’t even register you exist”
2) When you see them approaching turn your IPOD up, adorn your sunnies and walk fast. Alternatively talk to another guy, this is an open statement to say “I can do better”. This also has the benefit of meeting new people.
3) Make sure to avoid handing out your mobile number, unfortunately alcohol can impede on this guideline.
4) and finally if all else fails the old “Look I don’t like you at all and I never will” is a good way to go. Be warned this can backfire as it can sometimes turn those dweebs on.

How do you avoid nerds in Canberra? guard yourself and take no shit! Making up a boyfriend in Sydney is all well and good but you shouldn’t have to lie about the fact that your, let’s face it, too good for them.

f-all

the fact is: it is autumn, survived another bloody summer without turning orange and straighthaired like every other girl/boy in this most silly of cities. defiantly pale, and chesnut hair growing outwards and onwards daily. feeling the urge to cut excessively long scarves from fabrics which can be wrapped several times - the best amount of times - around myself and also others who like that sort of thing...or who don't but I feel they may be deserving. around and around it will go, until the fabric hangs and clings like tides.

currently researching into the development of perfect pitch in children. who knew the circumstances needed to be so specific? are you independent and focused and did you play the piano as a three year old? you might be one of the lucky ones.

Observations of a fanatic

Oh salad guy, scruffy salad guy,
Your beard is much too shaggy,
Dear salad guy, tasty salad guy
Don’t try so hard, you may seem daggy.

Try and ask me out, you may get lucky
But head this warning I’ll only say it once
I’m hard to please and high maintenance.

Neo Baroque

It amazes me the way the mall- a universally generic zone has the ability to revive my spirits. I suppose though the magnificence of the experience is heightened by moments of consumerist frenzy and their aftermath. Walking out of a store, bag/s in hand connects me to its shiny streets and neon glow and I am compelled forward to the next meaningless, consuming encounter. Acts of display and consumption are central to mall culture and there is a consequent feeling of belonging generated by these. Having no money at the shopping centre does feel pretty empty and shop assistants suddenly become vile beasts clawing at my skull (I guess this is always true) when an exchange can't be done.

Strange parallels exist then between this space and the Baroque courts I am currently studying. Funnily enough I purchased totally pointless little receptacles with louis chairs printed on them without even thinking about it. I guess malls make me vacuous too! Oops.