Strip baby, oh yeah baby strip - here's $200 dollars, thanks.

Sex sells. What's new? What's more, sex can make you money, lots of dirty dirty rotten filthy stench ridden juicy money money money. Shaking them two times has never been as handy as it is now. You can enter a wet t shirt competition and come out of it with a week's rent. Fuck yeah, let's do it.

So there you are, bumping and grinding into the invisible air, shaking your nearly naked hips while a sea (of predominately male men) scream holler and secretely masturbate in the backs of their minds. They hatch plans to pull one later that night with you squarely as the focus. Your juicy bits light up their eyes so they grin grin grin... You've been drinking a steady diet of double vodka's and red bull after a lazy bottle of wine in some dingy back alley called paradise lane to get ready for my moment to shine shine shine.

You need that 200 dollars and that's all you're after. Who cares about the sacred laws of privacy and rack off dignity, that's for my parents and my future ex husband to worry about. I'm all about the here and now and my jelly shaking for ever. I'm in the springtime of youth why not give it my all and have water sprayed down my skimpy white shirt to reveal my oh my god rock hard nipples. I secretely crave the attention (thanks older sister) and love the shouting i get when i give them a teaser. Fuck you dignity, stay where you belong, at home far away from this nightclub where i'm gonna win some money to keep you as my home. I mean common it's not like i'm stripping or selling my body, i'm flashing, yer that's right, flashing.

So fuck you and give me my 200 hundred dollars, I deserved it, I was awesome. I got the loudest cheer, trust me. I was amazing, everyone wanted me. They say you get 15 minutes of fame, well i got 10 and a bucket load of water.

Priceless.

So give me my money, now.

"Education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned" Albert Einstein

A wooden cane splinters the young boy's fingers. An ember, fine, coarse is implanted deep between the boy's index and middle finger. His crime: The blueprint of a paper aeroplane. His mission: To send a note to his crush.

Will he learn that love hurts, no. Will he learn to not disrupt class again, no. Will he want to escape and flee, yes.

Class becomes hell, signpost after signpost written on the blackboard mingle in his mind in a dull fog. He no longer bothers to even squint - Only think of panty hose and the sweet delicate sensations of wet lips.

His lunch rots, his marks freefall. His father beats him, his mother sobs, his girlfriend eludes him.
What's left for him. An education? Only a lesson in breeding contempt, absence and a long set of illusions.

Farewell to a friend

Goodbye's are never easy, not for you, not for your eyes not for even that faitful little beat machine, your heart...

But when a good friend of yours that is as inspiring as he is rad departs yet again after only a fortnight, it makes it that little bit more depressing...Starting a new life overseas he's going places he probably wouldn't have been able to make within our fine but far-flung shores of Australia. In another country, you can transform yourself into who you want to be. Nevermind the old bullshit concerns and reputations you held in your country of birth. No naysayers to hold you back, no lethargy or inability to move forward. In another country, another city you can become that person you've always strived to be. And he is taking steps in getting there, so i have to arch my back and tip my hat off to him... He'll be something and it's always nice to know someone right at the start...

I didn't get to spend as much time as i would have liked with said individual but oh well that said he is a man in demand. But the time when we were around each other and our group of friends were nice and it felt like it was another piece of the puzzle had nestled its way right back to where it should be. He is the kind of guy that can fit in anywhere and still be himself, no sacrifical bullshit to impress nobody, no change in demenour to stand out - just standing alone and being himself. For this he has always had my utmost respect. Too many peopple these days chop and change their personalities to suit their needs and desires and to coax the impressions of others. I sometimes fall into that trap but if there's anything i can learn from this guy is that you should fuck that off and just be who you are and wanna be and not let your own sensitivities or those of others hold you back...

see you soon...

Musing on irony

There is so much beat up around the intellectual and academic and even entertainment traps that there is an epidemic gripping our generation. Be wary, they warn, it's coming for you - it'll take you in its arms and hold you until your pores explode all over the carpet. Watch out they say, your eyes may boggle out of control and explode in a gooey frenzy. Please don't go there your mind may vegetabalise itself and begin eating itself out from the inside..
This epidemic you may be wondering is our sneaky addiction to all things up-to-date, technological, on screeen and otherwise, circling us in the virtual realm. Many naysayers seem to dedicate their P.O.V on not only our addiction but our continued RELIANCE on these technological marvels. They seem to think the human condition will no longer function like in the long lost days of candlelight and rampant depression and musing on the never ending complexities of life.
They do have a point these thinkers, but consider the flip side of the argument. Technology has eased access to innumerable archives and allowed instant access to irrefutable evidence - as in video, sattellite and all similar types of images. Technology has changed our disposition eternally - we can call upon a million and one favours or otherwise at obscene hours of the morning at far flung places on our ever deflating planet.
Obviously there are rampant downsides to such ease of access, it means that that fleeting illusory notion of 'human contact' will progressively escape our grip. The mentality of the why not generation means that anything is possible while being blind to the fact that that leaves countless notions on the wayside - considerations like environmental impact, industrial ravagement and widespread meataphysical transformation that at times a regular human being may not be ready for.

We as human beings move in such interesting ways, using ourselves as our own vehicles of transformation. Thanks to the complete advents in communication technology and even the rise in robotics, musing on the impact of these on the human condition may be completely reshaped into discussions on the symbiosis of mind matter and spirit these transformations have caused.

At the end of the day however i am my own irony as i use all the new technological advances with some wayward zeal. In the early part of the naughties i was wary of many of the new formats for communication inherent to the internet, P2P, blogosphere, social networking... But as they have all congealed and metatastisized and become inevitable to refute i have been grounded within them without rebellion. They are necessary just like the traditional formats are but i believe there is no more point in bitching about their impact because at the end of the day they are here to say and they will be flung into games of the survival of the fittest and those vehicles which are the fittest will be here to stay.

So change your tune and begin considering just what these formats can do for you and your imagination, just how you can use your precious time through them...

Ironically, that's exactly what im doing right here, right now ... a pizza bite slice of wisdom that will inevitably get lost in the wide nothingness of html 2.0.

NUDITY

I enjoy being in the nud.
Completely bareback, freeballing, nude as all hell, hair and all. But many people tend to disagree with my aesthetic arrangements? They seem to find it rude and even accusatory that you should feel the need to be completely naked. I am of the other ilk, i believe it's a human alpha males DUTY to be on duty at certain times and hours of the duty arms nose and heads held high with their manbits on show for all. It is a primal dedication at the end of the day and who wants to turn their bare backs on history? Certainly not me.

So next time you find yourself in the nude, respect yourself - fondle your bits, shake them about a little and maybe even sneak in a lazy sniff. It should all be done in the name of self respect. Nudity in all its glory is an uncommon asset these days. There should be a worldwide ban on underpants, a worldwide revolution to reignite the flames ignited by the hippies, a general concensus that nudity is OK and you are not some closet freak if you perhaps happen to skinny dip in the middle of a hot summers day or get seen girating in your living room to the BEE GEE's while doing the vaccuming.....

Nudity is bringing sexy back.
Believe it.

Life in Revolt

I am revolting. I have been accused of it, payed out for it, lambasted for it. I am indeed revolting. But, what is it about my revolting nature that really stands out? Is it the golden showers? The dutch ovens, the burps, flatulence, the dirty sanchez's - oops. Or is it more my general hygiene? Yes i have been known to sweat a little, puddles in fact. Sadly yes i have had to throw out long sleeve shirts after gigs due to its complete disintegration because of sweat.
Yes i have been known to throw faeces about like it was REALLY going out of fashion.
Maybe i have a pee festish or two.
Or maybe after all this lengthy introspection my revolting nature is on a whole 'nother stratosphere?! It has arisen at music festivals when i am in rapture and attempting some funky funky maneuvers with either my sunnies, jumper, tongue or all of the above in one feel swoop.
Is it wrong that at someone's party the host confronts me and accuses me yet again of being 'ABSOLUTELY REVOLTING' Is it wrong that i enjoyed it?
My life in full revolt mode does have its dividends though, like when at a mutual friends party, aforementioned ladyfriend who finds any activity, pursuit or linguistic turn of phrase especially confronting is necessarily revolting accused me of being yet again revolting - what for again missy? wearing a wizard's cloak ? saying unecessary things to siblings and elderly family members? Something i said struck a chord seeing as i later spent such time with yours truly that night that your nipple was witnessed by the whole of Kings X - your dress looked so tasty and delicious that it was actually edible, that we may of accidently stumbled into dozens of people without even realising and that even to this day while you may still think im revolting - i now, thanks to your influence, take absolute pride at being revolting - what that pride really revolves around i do no yet know...
Revolting.
Ew.

Steve's alias Kumar

Mobile Phone technology rampantly rams me up my own posterior. It's a fabulous sensation, penetrating me with the full flow of exorbitant phone bills, overpriced call rates, lovely customer service representatives named steve who are really just aliases for all the sanjeevs and kumar's in the office.
I serverely love the thrush i receive from a certain consultant who promises oh so much and yet each bill i receive bears no resemblance to the signed contractual agreements? An extra 100 dollars of calls to make to my gynacologist? Free internet to check out the latest in xxx rated midget pony porn?
Nope none of those exist in the surreal, invisible, ziggy stardust ethereal world of mobile phone technology. Just papers with phone bills that cost as much as second hand cars, hundreds of texts that ruin my fungal fingers, 2.50 a minute to check my latent homo voice mails.
Look it may just be that im still in the closet for mobile phone technology and not yet come out to fully vent my bleeding vagina's rage. No i'm not lesbian, homosexual or Sanjeev, I'm just seriously ticked off at not only my own obsession with instant communication, just enraged by my inability to control my pouncing urges to rape my phone with my hardcore love.
I can't wait for the day when instant social networking and communication devices (which double as uber advertising merchants) turn to telecommunications and shake up the status quo of having to pay 70 cents a minute for a phone call.
If stem cell technology is going to mean i will live till im 135 (and no longer working full time) i don't want my arthritic hands and legs to be paying for for telephone calls until the day i die.
Richard Branson, send a FREE satellite to MARS set up a PHONE SERVICE and PLEASE make calls FREE.