WOW.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Pictures and Stuff.
I'm almost half way through the New Zealand trip now. We've gone basically from one side of the South Island to the other and then back again.
One of the strangest things about being here, is that it's not Australia. I suppose I expected it to be the same, the people to be the same, everything in Australia to be here. But it's just not Australia... and it seems weird.
When I was in Fiji I wrote a list of things that I wanted to do/achieve in 2009. Sort of like resolutions I suppose. One of them was to get a subscriber on YouTube other than my friends (i.e. Kirby and Helen). The other day I did! Even though I'm still incredibly nervous about posting videos because I probably seem like a complete twat, I just felt pretty awesome that someone else actually wanted to watch them.
T'is All.
Friday, February 20, 2009
new zealand. hells yeah.
bad things about being overseas when i have money on my credit card:
i buy things.
lots.
things i have bought online since being in new zealand:
-the penguin book of keeping house
-the chronicles of narnia dvd box set (the lion, the witch and the wardrobe, prince casbian, the dawn treader + the silver chair)
-a polaroid camera
-a kodak instant camera that doesn't work
-a basket for the back of my bike
-6 dvds for uni
oh and probably lots of other stuff i can't remember.
i'm also bidding on blue water high season 1 and 2 as a welcome home present to me for kirby...
i think i have a very unhealthy obsession.
new zealand is great and stuff though.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
reading and such.
I read a book last night. Long Way Down by Nick Hornby.
I really enjoy Nick Horby books in a similar way to how I enjoy Ben Elton books.
They just have a way of relating to me, that I don't get from many other books, even though some others are my favourites. I just get something different from reading them.
In one part one of the characters JJ was going on about something called music rage, and the anger that you feel when someone can't understand a particular song the way that you do. I wrote the whole passage in a note on facebook, it just in a way was exactly how I feel about the music that I listen to, and the passion that I can hear in the songs I listen to versus the songs that I hear at work on Nova.
I'm still in Fiji at the moment. I went on this thing called a Zip the other day. You get strapped into a harness and basically zip along this metal wire from one platform in the trees to another. I was absolutely terrified at first, but it was an amazing experience. I suppose this was a similar feeling to when I first when scuba diving. I don't have too much else planned while I'm here, apart from going to a spa to get a facial, manicure and pedicure and then also get a henna tattoo on my wrist.
I do want to find some time to just walk around town and take some photos. Perhaps tomorrow will be the day?
Friday, February 6, 2009
four points.
* my video wont upload and it frustrates me a little.
* i just watched a good movie called phoebe in wonderland. recommended.
* i have been way to affected by dreams that seem like they really happened, no matter how ridiculous they are.
* i want to discover some sort of moment while i'm away from everything but i don't think it's happening yet.
* i just watched a good movie called phoebe in wonderland. recommended.
* i have been way to affected by dreams that seem like they really happened, no matter how ridiculous they are.
* i want to discover some sort of moment while i'm away from everything but i don't think it's happening yet.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Stargazing
She follows me outside of the house, her hair is loosely pulled back and her dress floats in the light breeze. I watch her as she kicks aside an empty bottle with her barefoot, and steps ever so lightly over a piece of discarded furniture.
“Don’t go.” She says.
Instead I make my way over to the trampoline and she follows, pulling herself up. Lying with out backs on the trampoline we stare up at the night sky.
“The stars are like diamonds.” She says.
I tell her that they may look like diamonds here, but in the country they look like stars. In the country you can see the swirls of the milky way, you can see the entire sky littered with stars, you can actually imagine flying through the galaxies.
“You’ll have to take me one day” She says.
I ask her if she means to the country, or if she means through the galaxies.
“Both I suppose.” She says.
I lay my arms out and she scoots up to lay her head on me, still staring up at the stars. I explain to her the names of the different constellations as best as I can remember them. She listens intently. Her left arm is draped over my body so I decide to hold her with my free arm.
“I like the music” I say.
She tells me that she’s pleased. She tells me she can increase my musical knowledge. She talks about the music, about the musicians. The words blur in my mind.
“You’re beautiful.” I say.
She keeps talking about the music, almost not even hearing me. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for.
She tells me she’s scared of getting old.
“It’s not so bad.” I say.
“Do you believe in magic?” She asks.
I tell her that I suppose not.
“Do you believe in God?” She asks.
I tell her that I’m not quite sure.
She looks up at me. Our coffee’s sit on the table, untouched, her hand rests gently in mine.
I ask her if she’d like to spend the rest of her life with me.
“I think I would.” She says.
We get married one day, outside under the great big shinning sun. That night we lie under the stars.
“The stars look better in the country, don’t they?” I ask.
She tells me that they do. She tells me that I still have to take her through the galaxies. I tell her there’s plenty of time for that.
Her stomach begins to grow, until it is almost as round as a bowling ball. She takes my hand and places it on her belly.
“I felt it.” I say.
I hold her hand as she pushes, and the beads of sweat roll down her forehead. I hold her hand as the doctors hold our son. I hold her hand as we hear no cries coming from his mouth.
She sits in the corner of the nursery with her back turned to me, looking up at the stars.
“I wonder what is up there.” She says.
I tell her that I’m an old man now, too old to build a rocket ship to fly through the galaxies.
She tells me that she’s not sure if she loves me anymore.
“I’m surprised you loved me in the first play.” I say.
I leave the room and she follows me, kicking a stray toy out of the way with her bare foot. She follows me into the bedroom where I lay down on the bed. She scoots up to rest her head on my arm.
I open my eyes to find that I’m still lying on the trampoline, with her nestled up to me.
She is old enough to be an adult, but seems young enough to be a child. I tell her that I should be going.
“Don’t go.” She says.
I tell her that I’ll never be able to fly her through the galaxies. I tell her that if we fall in love then one day she’ll stop loving me. I tell her that I’ll be an old man before she has a chance to become a woman.
“I thought as much.” She says.
She climbs off the trampoline, her dress floats lightly as her bare feet touch the grass. She leans up towards me, her heals lifting from the ground. Lightly her lips touch mine, and just for a moment she kisses me.
“Tonight I’ll love you forever.” She says.
I ask her what that means. She doesn’t reply. She walks back inside the house with her dress floating in the breeze.
“Don’t go.” She says.
Instead I make my way over to the trampoline and she follows, pulling herself up. Lying with out backs on the trampoline we stare up at the night sky.
“The stars are like diamonds.” She says.
I tell her that they may look like diamonds here, but in the country they look like stars. In the country you can see the swirls of the milky way, you can see the entire sky littered with stars, you can actually imagine flying through the galaxies.
“You’ll have to take me one day” She says.
I ask her if she means to the country, or if she means through the galaxies.
“Both I suppose.” She says.
I lay my arms out and she scoots up to lay her head on me, still staring up at the stars. I explain to her the names of the different constellations as best as I can remember them. She listens intently. Her left arm is draped over my body so I decide to hold her with my free arm.
“I like the music” I say.
She tells me that she’s pleased. She tells me she can increase my musical knowledge. She talks about the music, about the musicians. The words blur in my mind.
“You’re beautiful.” I say.
She keeps talking about the music, almost not even hearing me. She’s smarter than I gave her credit for.
She tells me she’s scared of getting old.
“It’s not so bad.” I say.
“Do you believe in magic?” She asks.
I tell her that I suppose not.
“Do you believe in God?” She asks.
I tell her that I’m not quite sure.
She looks up at me. Our coffee’s sit on the table, untouched, her hand rests gently in mine.
I ask her if she’d like to spend the rest of her life with me.
“I think I would.” She says.
We get married one day, outside under the great big shinning sun. That night we lie under the stars.
“The stars look better in the country, don’t they?” I ask.
She tells me that they do. She tells me that I still have to take her through the galaxies. I tell her there’s plenty of time for that.
Her stomach begins to grow, until it is almost as round as a bowling ball. She takes my hand and places it on her belly.
“I felt it.” I say.
I hold her hand as she pushes, and the beads of sweat roll down her forehead. I hold her hand as the doctors hold our son. I hold her hand as we hear no cries coming from his mouth.
She sits in the corner of the nursery with her back turned to me, looking up at the stars.
“I wonder what is up there.” She says.
I tell her that I’m an old man now, too old to build a rocket ship to fly through the galaxies.
She tells me that she’s not sure if she loves me anymore.
“I’m surprised you loved me in the first play.” I say.
I leave the room and she follows me, kicking a stray toy out of the way with her bare foot. She follows me into the bedroom where I lay down on the bed. She scoots up to rest her head on my arm.
I open my eyes to find that I’m still lying on the trampoline, with her nestled up to me.
She is old enough to be an adult, but seems young enough to be a child. I tell her that I should be going.
“Don’t go.” She says.
I tell her that I’ll never be able to fly her through the galaxies. I tell her that if we fall in love then one day she’ll stop loving me. I tell her that I’ll be an old man before she has a chance to become a woman.
“I thought as much.” She says.
She climbs off the trampoline, her dress floats lightly as her bare feet touch the grass. She leans up towards me, her heals lifting from the ground. Lightly her lips touch mine, and just for a moment she kisses me.
“Tonight I’ll love you forever.” She says.
I ask her what that means. She doesn’t reply. She walks back inside the house with her dress floating in the breeze.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
hotels.
Apparently when business groups hire out rooms in hotels, they space all people far apart.
It's so that if the business men want to bring prostitutes home, their workmates are less likely to know about it.
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