Monday, October 25, 2004

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Dissitations of a mad man:

Just finished my last post and wandered into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. Pepermint. Started to think down a track which I had previously wandered.

The Hippie propogation cycle.

Hippies go somewhere. They find it. Driven, like cockroaches, to find somewhere suitable to breed. They find it. Somewhere flush with low cost living, ample lack of work, sun, probably surf and plenty of places to stash the special crop. And they linger, calling forth all others to their place, forming a veritable hive if you will... A /commune/.

After a time, their misshapen clay pots and authentic hand made crap trinkets (Now with 90% more crap and 50% more wank) become fashionable. Artistes flood the region, some of them hippies, some rebelling against the stereotype, and some rebelling against rebelling by becoming insanely rich capitalistic pig dogs off the back of a white canvas painted black.

The combi-vans are slowly outnumbered by the volvos, then the mercedes, then the porches.... Soon the hippie commune (For the sake of argument we'll call it Rargret Miver) is over run by neo post modern fashion afflicted rich people, bringing with them their glistening moddern homes of concrete, glass, plasma screen TVs and $12,000 security systems. As if a light is switched on, the hippies, now greater in number and somewhat greater in wealth, even if only measured by the size of their mull bag, scatter from under the fridge of capitalist fashion, seeking somewhere new to lay roots...

I suppose my point or question is this... how many times can the cycle reiterate... And what happens when the hippies run out of places to run to? Will they fight, like cornered dogs, tieing themselves to the chrome plated bulldozer of progress? Or will they put down the adult brownies, use their amassed wealth, and becomes that which they hate...?

I guess, soon enough, we'll find out.
-Stu
posted by Unknown at 10/25/2004 06:37:00 AM [edit]

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The world has cast me asunder.
I have lost my legs and found myself without flight or walk.
I am crippeled.
The information which once ran through my veins, nourishing me, empowering me, now spasms, splutters... Runs dry.
The pillars of knowledge supporting the canopy of my mind crumble as if dust.
My Apostles, fallen by the way side, turn to ash.
I am alone.

It seems the world is hollow now. Once it was filled with the light and laughter of my companions, but now it's walls echo back coldly. My compatriots seem to have fallen, one by one. The tales of journey and battle which once enticed my imagination from it's slumber, seem to have fallen silent. First there was one (www.Docfisher.com). Then a second(www.xistor.net). A third(wen.ch) has come close to downfall.

My own attempts to spit into the void, to fill the endless expanse of copper plated abyss, are sporadic at best and seem to be becomign mroe so. Do I no longer have the time? the energy? The will? A combination of all..?

Will this toll a bell? Without the vapor of an electronic log to help bind us, will we fall apart?
I don't know.

But in case that is all that binds us together, I guess I should ensure my own piece of tether is tended, at least once in awhile..

Well, I'm moving house. Into my own house. It is a crazy world we live in. House warming should be in 2 weeks, Saturday the 6th, which doesn't leave a lot of time to notify people or to organise it, especially with uni coming to a crashing close around my ears. So if you know me, and you're reading this, mark the date. I should be mass contacting tomorrow. I have stress to spare right now, with the moving and the Uni and the party. And the play.

I am in a play. I don't recommend you come see it. It's a piece of man hating bollocks right now. The performances by Dwight, Glen, Peter (When he's there) and myself are of course exceptional, but other memebrs of the cast leave a lot to be desired and the script really seems to be a hack job created around the premise of man bashing. The director has sucked all the joy from it for me. I need to check the dates of it, make sure I can have the party that Saturday. Otherwise it might have to eb put off till after exams. While that would give more time for organising and notifying and relieve some stress, it adds the slight problem of two very good friends of mine from theatre are going overseas to live, and it'd be cool to have them come. If it's more than 2 weeks away, they can't.

Which is going to be an interesting point of the party. I'm doing my best to ensure that it's not a weiner fest. I'm also taking the unprecedented move of throwing all my friend groups together in the blender of a house warming and setting it to alcoholic frappe. I don't forsee any body getting stabbed, but I am concerened that it won't be a good party, which would be bad. I want to have a aprty succesful enough that people will want me to host more of them in the future. But I guess we'll see won't we?

Anyway, right now I have to go. Pack. Write invites. Hide in a corner and whimper. I'm not sure. But I have to go.

Jonesy, this one goes out to you:
"And rememebr kids, be good, or be good at it."

-Stu
posted by Unknown at 10/25/2004 06:08:00 AM [edit]

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