5.29.2009

ctrl+shift+n

I'm currently in bed, all warm and cosey listening to music and I can sorta hear the rain outside. Or maybe its just tires going over wet road. Probably the latter... either way its lush and soothing.

I'm hardly sleepy yet but unfortunately I've gotta force myself due to work being pretty early tomorrow morning. Which sorta blows considering its Saturday but I should stop my bitching.

What I actually came on to write about is this;

Yesterday night my homeboy and myself got onto the subject of child minding. His mother is a child minder. Out of curiosity I asked if she ever has to child mind over night, or for 24 hours. No, he said. But they might stick around until late evening/early morning if their parents were at functions, like weddings and such.
As soon as he said it, it prompted memories of when that used to happen to me as a kid. Being dropped off somewhere to be minded while the rents were out at some dry function, usually out of obligation :P

And upon remembering it and all its associated feelings etc. I began to feel very, very uneasy. Bad vibes, everywhere.
And what I remembered in particular was being dropped off at somebodies boring joint, sticking around, staying up watching bad cartoons and TV shows that I didn't like until I became weary and fell asleep on an uncomfortable couch, only to be woken by your parents being in the room, picking your sleepy ass up to go home.

Something about THAT particular thought, made me feel really weird. Even now, writing about it, gives me really strange vibes. I don't exactly know what it is - maybe it was the feeling of just wanting to be home really bad, being helplessly lonely, being stark bored, shy, missing out on the fun, or what? I'm sure nothing terrible happened, I don't think so anyway. I suppose Nirvana's song "Sliver" described it pretty well. You get dropped off somewhere, you watch tv, you eat, you play - and you fucking hate it.
"Grandma take me home! Grandma take me home! Grandma take me home!"
the chorus, repeated over and over and over by Cobain. Maybe he knows what I'm talking about. But he's dead and I can't exactly ask.

This just reminded me of a topic in conversation that I had with a lovely friend about repressed memories and the subconscious. If a sufficiently disturbing/threatening event happened in your life - particularly childhood or adolescence, your subsconscious knows to erase or forget it. You might remember the event and cause, but the details are erased for your own good and well being. Fuckin' remarkable, I think. At that, I don't think anything disturbing or threatening happened to me at that stage in life. I really do doubt it. But considering that I have an impeccable memory of my childhood, kindy and even before that, why is it that this particular scene gives me the heeby jeebies, making me want to forget it as soon as possible? Or the fact that I don't really remember any details about it.

I think I'm just looking into to much actually, because obviously details of your childhood like that slowly fade into obscurity. But it's food for thought no?




Thinkin' of you!

-n xoxo

5.25.2009

yeah he's tough...

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but i didn't know he'd beat up my fist with his face.

<3

they're WHAT now!?

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bail the defenses.. !

4.22.2009

>27hrs

I don't actually have anything to write about. Actually I'm kinda forcing myself to write, mainly because I feel like I need to.

Of the things I thought I could write about:

dreams, songs, language, the addressing of shortcomings, proclamation of my own genius (not), absurd and miscellaneous, the aura of the extraordinary aaaand finally, myself.

So thats what I've finally decided on. I will give you the unenviable pleasure of reading about yours truly.

So whats been going on in the life of me lately?

As a lot of you may know, I don't go to university. For those of you who don't: I don't go to university. I deferred my offers till next year. Which means as of March 31 I had roughly 300 days for me to earn money and enjoy the lack of academia, but not necessarily learning. I learn what I feel I need and want to, and reject all else. So that leaves me various useless trivia, scattered here-and-theres of history (namely World War 2) and how to wrestle grizzly bears and then cook their young for vital nourishment in the North American wilderness, or in the Serengeti's case, lions and hippopotamus... But no actually I walk away with a better understanding of some finer points of life that I never knew. Don't get me wrong. I don't claim, nor will I ever claim in my life (you can bet on it) to ever know the majority of the answers to life. But without getting to balls deep, the fact that I have for the first time in my life been given more than 1 and a half months of me time since 1995 has taught me much.
Its a gift, and I'm tempted to go with the cliche say that its a curse as well but I'm not sure if it is. Things haven't exactly been 100% dandy as things never really are. And I hope you know what I mean when I say that sometimes it's not easy to take things as bounties and blessings all the time. But thats the way things are with everybody I guess. At least I hope so anyway.
I really don't wanna talk about work in detail, as no one really likes hearing about it. Including myself. All I'll say is that I'm enjoying my work and the people that I work with, which makes shit a lot easier. I'm also grateful to have a job that seems pretty secure and that pays me pretty well. I guess I got things on lock in that department... I'm earning cash and experience and some fun times to boot. Though sometimes I really don't know where the fuck my money goes. Something out there, somewhere, is the virtual leech of my bank account. But, oh well. I hate money. Not in the way that I deny the need for it, but the fact that we need it sucks. Then again I wouldn't wanna barter fucken sea shells either. Actually... who am I kidding? Yes I fucken' do I live next to a beach for Pete's sake.

INTERMISSION...
Okay hold on a second. I'm trying to get back to my senses. I just got mind fucked by the end of Kirlian Isles II by The Flashbulb. It was all ambient and chill until the music changes mood and gets all psychotic on me... so hold on a sec.

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Alright. Back into the nice stuff.

Approximately 26 hours later, I'm continuing this post. I intended on finishing it yesterday night, but it didn't end up happen. Got lost in Chopin. Had he been born a woman and lived his life identically, I'd be into necrophilia... maybe not. But I'd be in a disgustingly deep love with a dead classical music genius. So, seeing as I don't want to be changing the subject anytime soon, my criminally boring and languid love life is as it goes. Thats really all that I'm going to say about that otherwise I won't stop. Unless of course you ask. This isn't really an insinuation either - I'm fairly indifferent as to whether you do or you don't, though I do appreciate concern when given lol. So eh... I guess if I could just end this paragraph with anything it'd be a recommendation to listen to all of Chopin's Nocturnes. It's an absolute diorama of emotions, inspired by the night. The only piece of music where I legitimately feel that he wrote it for me, to me. Whether he's laughing or crying either with me or at me - it's sincere all the same.

Uhhhm... fff.. since I'm continuing this from last night it's kinda hard to keep with the subject and my train of thought isn't the same. But I'll try and salvage what thoughts I had and put them back in...




So since I've been / and will be doing the same-old thing this year I've just been thinking about what sort of things I'd like to do or achieve or have a go at. Just simple stuff like read more, try my hand at poetry and spoken word, make music (and hence continue my love/hate affair with my own efforts) and stuff like that. A friend of mine (whose ambition and vision I wish I shared) has asked me to act in a film he might be making, and I love acting so that should be interesting. But all these things are, just little things to make me happy and expand my horizons a little bit.
It's not just me currently lack a long term vision for my life and myself, I've sort of always lacked it. Everyone shits on all the time about having your long term goals and then working towards them, having big plans for your life and stuff - but that was never me. I suppose the biggest thing really has been my idea of wanting to move out. I hate living at home. So long as I'm here, I'm not me. But I don't know if that idea could materialise anytime soon.
But hey you know... fuck. Whatever?

If I had to write one last thing about this fascinating (not) update on myself before I leave it for the night is a general misanthropy. Well, maybe not misanthropy because that conjures up whiffs of hatred. It's definitely not a hatred. Maybe cynicism is the better word. I suppose I just feel like people don't really act upon anything sincerely anymore and it's really easily made me think differently of a lot of people - but in a benign, contemplative way. Obviously I wouldn't treat them differently or do anything to physically act upon it - but it's just got me thinking. Uh for example I just feel that lately people only really talk to you when they need or want something (whatever it might be), are only in it for themselves when you look into it; even worse off when it's someone you invest time, energy, respect and kindness to because you feel like they deserve it.


And I'm just about spent. Thats me forcing myself to write about something, and that something ended up being an update on myself. Hope you've learned something, and, well... I dunno. Drop me a line or something.


Thanks so much for reading.


Chocolat, pour vous
ncpx x

3.27.2009

i lied.

yeah. thats right. i lied. sorry folks. but what I'm about to tell you was way too much to get off my chest at that particular time. So heres the real story as to what ncpx really is.

the place where I work used to be a massive Apple complex (apple as in the company that makes iPods and Mac computers etc.) and it was built in the 1970s. In it was stored a lot of Australia's prime technology - the best shit you could get in the country at the time and a lot of research went on there - a recently declassified joint venture between the Australian Govt. and Apple.

anyway, this place was vacated by the late 90s and has been vacant 'till we came in 08 and started building our shit. as part of the opening team I got to inspect the place during the final stages of construction. so walking around the main areas of the joint I got pretty bored and decided to go up some stairs (and I didn't get stuck in them).

So I ended up on the uppermost floor, and walked for what seemed like ages past odd pipes, access panels, gauges, a boiler room, and miscellaneous junk leftover from the 30-year party that Apple threw in here before we came. That was until I get to an interesting door - a fuckin' huge vault door with an electronic number pad on it, left ajar. Wahey, ace. I'd come across something interesting! The trip was worth it.

The thing was pretty damn large so I had to shove it with my shoulder for it to move. So, all 80+ kilos of me accelerating into this door made it move quite shy of 1 meter. After shaking the dust from the vault slab off my shoulder and making a few curious peeks around the corner from under the door frame, I walked into the room.

Wasn't that big. It housed 6 tall lockers (the really old school type), some bookshelves, rearranged computer desks (with very old monitors left behind on them) and files of shit allover the floor. What I found most interesting though, was a metal pillbox type thing I found stuck to the bottom of one of the desks. So I side-kicked that shit off. Picked it up, put it next to my ear and gave it a shake. And sure enough there was stuff in there. So obviously I wanted to open it because I was eager to know what was left inside here (instead of just being chucked around on the floor) but the top wouldn't budge. It probably seized up with age, with the rust and buildup and shit like that. So I ran back to the main area to get something to pry it open with.

All the tradeys, various contractors and my superiors were too busy overlooking the project so I just walked up to the nearest tool box and racked the biggest flat-head screw driver in there. I jogged past the pipes, access panels, gauges, a boiler room and miscellaneous junk back to the security door and stopped right under the door frame.

"Why. the fuck. are the lights on?"

It's kinda freaky when you stumble across an interesting room with a busted open vault-thing, at the end of a long hallway of industrial shit-and-mess, in dead silence with no one around - and then find that the lights are on . I looked around for a light switch - there was none. THe only reason why I could see in there before was because there was light from the hallway outside - just enough to dimly light the room.

Fuck it, I thought. Probably just automatic. I wedged the end of the screwdriver under the lid and levered it upwards. Wasn't easy but, after some good yakka and elbow grease it opened. And as soon as the lid flicked off, a caged red light on the wall to my right turned on. No coincidence, for sure. It must have tripped it.

Seconds after, I heard a computer boot from inside one of the large desk drawers. I'm assuming it was an old school computer because the fan was so fucking loud, and it sounded like the one my dad bought for me and my sister back when I was in first grade (it was so shit, but it ran Diablo 1 and that was cool enough for me).

But, yeah. I was pretty freaked out. But so interested - so I flicked through the neat piles of documents that were in the pillbox. I flicked the pages with my thumb until I felt a paper clip and decided to open it there. It was used to attach a little handwritten note onto an A4 page

Username: jbriggs_apple29
Password: **********(I don't remember what it was)

Cool. I just got a login and password for something. The computer turned on anyway, so I figured it would have something to do with that, captain obvious.

It was REALLY primitive. The type that only came in two-tone. That bright digital green in that terrible DOS font. And needless to say, it had no operating system. Only text based commands , Y/N , >run kind of thing yea?

at first there was just a flashing green underscore on the top left of the screen. So I hit enter, to see if I would get a response. The computer made some clicking noises (the type your PC makes when loading) and was confronted with a login screen! Woohoo, time to try out my login. So I type it, and hit enter.

...

nothing happens.

I hit enter again. And wait.

Shit, nothing happens. I try hitting enter again and again but it seems frozen. The underscore stopped flashing, and the computer stopped loading (because it stopped making clicking noises). So I kicked the drawer where the machine to maybe get the machine responding again, and sure enough it did.

"Confirm? Y/N "

I hit Y (Y means Yes, N means No)

more clicking noises.



Then . Shit got real.

My face pretty close to the screen with anticipation of some possibly cool info, a deafening beep sounded from the computer - and it scared the SHIT out of me. I jumped back, and the flashing underscore spammed over and over again, on the left side of the screen:

ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx
ncpx

Over, and over, and over, and over, and over.

I dunno, I just got scared. What the fuck? It beeps loud as fuck at me and I go into momentary cardiac arrest, and its telling me ncpx. I hit enter again.

"Initiate ncpx? Y/N"

Fuck I didn't know so I just hit Y.

The red light on the wall flashed, the computer made a louder fucking beep, and - yep, all the lights turned off. So here I am, shocked off my nuts, in complete darkness because EVEN THE LIGHTS IN THE HALLWAY WERE OFF.

I just stood there, for a few seconds, I didn't know what to fucking do. I completely forgot that I had a phone in my pocket with a light, I was just scared yo.

But then the tin lockers started trembling. Yep. Fuck that. I needed to get outta there, because I meddled and I came across shit I shouldn't have. I ran back towards the other direction, in complete darkness. I think I tripped like, twice. And I'm out in the main area... only to find that the last of the tradeys had gone home for the day. I was the last fucking person in the building.

.. yeah.



Love,

ncpx. x

3.22.2009

jagerbombs.

I've recently thought about the bearing that strangers have on my life.
Well... no maybe not my 'life' (I use the term too loosely...) but more appropriately, the perception I have of people, society, humanity etc. Which, in the end, affects me.

it's comforting to know that someone you know nothing about (and needless to say, knows nothing about you) actually gives a shit (about you). I'll go as far as saying that I prefer the concern of strangers.

Why? Simply because they don't have to care. But they do - without any obligation or necessity other than to just 'be there'. I could have been just the other 6 billion + people here in the face of apathy - but one just choose to give a genuine damn.

its a pure intention that i feel never goes unpaid.

i write because of personal experience. one that doesn't happen often, but one I don't often forget. because i feel like they happen for a reason.

I feel at a bit of a loss that these people are just strangers and nothing more. because you might think that its only fair that they have something more to do with you, instead of just that 10 minutes decided by chance. but maybe we arent supposed to know them. maybe purity is ruined by acquaintance.

to fall in one-time yet true love is to receive the care of destined strangers.

i only wish i could offer the same confidence - lately it seems im only on the receiving end.

fuck it i'm feeling restless. im outta here.



kisses blown,
ncpx. x

3.13.2009

Round 2...

... fuck it I'll sleep on it.