Morrissey Is My Man

Something about cemeteries has always fascinated me. They reek of the transience of life in a perpetually beautiful way. Cemetery Gates, The Smiths With loves, and hates and passions just like mine. They were born and then they lived and then they died. These words make me internally quiver every time. Every time I hear them, I just want to shout every fucking word into the face of ignorant humanity.  Life is simplistic. It starts and ends in a monotonous manner and suddenly, we are irrelevant. We are dead.

Earlier in the year I traveled to my paternal homeland, New Zealand. Opposite one hotel in Auckland was Symonds Street Cemetery. I spent enough time there to dig a grave. I would sit amongst decaying leaves, surrounded by names and dates and faded tomb stones. The tomb stones meant nothing, yet they were everything. To me they were a symbol of time; a beacon simplicity and the recipe of life.

Today I lost a friend. All I could think of were the decaying leaves which littered the floor of Symonds Street Cemetery. His life seemed as equally as ephemeral. We complicate things with time, we take time for granted. Life is simple; at least Morrissey can speak my language .With loves, and hates and passions just like mine. They were born and then they lived and then they died. 

 

Valentines Day Sentiments

I hate Valentines Day. The only reason behind the burning pit of hatred I fuel is that it is a day which demonstrates absolutely every single thing I loathe about humans as a species. If I wrote a dictionary of conventionally observed days the entry for Valentines Day would read...

Valentines Day: mindless shit

I don't want to end up ranting about the over-commercialization, but I probably will anyway.  Why is it that a relationship status suddenly becomes relevant on one day of the year? Why does singledom become so horrendous that one must slowly shit it into my Facebook newsfeed, updating me with their non-ironic sorrow. Unless you were part of some freakish multiple birth, you were hauled out of your mother's vagina and into this big wide world on your lonesome. You ventured for (I pray) at least a decade of your life being satisfied with parental love. If you cannot continue to exist as an individual you need to revalue your priorities in life and not talk to me (I don't have time for people like you).  And for those with partners in tow, if you don't take time to acknowledge the presence of your significant other any other day of the year...what the fuck is the point?

 

Obviously this guy took it to the extreme...
 but Jesus had a way with words.
I hear he was a pretty moral guy.

The thing that shits me off the most is that there is literally no reason for the day, historically speaking.  Valentines Day commenced as a liturgical celebration of the early Christian saint, Valentinus. He was associated with performing illegal weddings for soldiers and ministering Christians who were persecuted under the Roman Empire. That is it. As the Germans would say "Kaput" (although that is not really used in the right context, it sounds right). There is no actual reason for Valentines day.  There are more founded reasons to celebrate the birth of your family's pet fish. Our society breeds into us from a young age that our lives are about discovering love. That our lives don't truly commence until romantic love is found. What is love? There are some that even argue love is a mere humanistic construct. 

 

If we must have a day to symbolize love should we not commit to it in a more dutiful and logical manner. Rather than pumping our hard earned dollars into the consumerist temptations of Valentines Day  and wallowing in our own self pity, we should perhaps at least momentarily consider the fact that 925 million people are hungry in the world. IDK IT'S JUST A THOUGHT. At risk of sounding like Jesus, if every person donated the money they would usual shred on gifts to a  to a total and utter stranger who needed money, wouldn't that be a display of pure and simple love for one's neighbor.  Isn't generosity and compassion true love?  Or if you can't manage a financial contribution why don't you just shed a smile at someone. Particularly if they work in retail (I'm sorry I didn't realise that being a total and utter shit on the human race had become a standard form of greeting).

 

If you purchase flowers for Valentines day, or subject your 'love life' to un-normal practices in the name of the 14th of February...we can't be friends. If you go out of your way to observe this over-commercialised, over-dramatized and pointless shit of a day we can't be friends. The irony is that in many ways I have just conformed to Valentines Day is by acknowledging its existence and rambling about the ways it affects my life. Anyway, lets continue loving each other (or at the very least love hating each other) as much as we would any other day of the year . Minx out.

shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots shots everybody.

 The song "Shots" could be compared to aggressively slamming your face into brick wall for 4.14 minutes. The song doesn't need versus, all people want is to let the fuck go at the chorus.  Surrounded by the right people and the right amount of alcohol this song makes for some ironic fun. Apart from the song should have no place in our lives/humanity/the universe. Yet yesterday, I found myself discovering the melody of Shots in the spray painting of some dude in Queen Street. At which point, I realised I had two choices....

a) keep on going with my life. Perhaps try and become more socially acceptable.

b) Or go and blog

Obviously I chose the latter. And here I am sitting on Youtube watching (what I would describe) as the genre that is Shots covers. I may as well place my life into a shredder and then burn the remnants.

This particular version actually injects wholesome rainbows into a song which literally is about getting "fucked up". There  is something that I am struggling to eloquently articulate about the use of harmonica/saxophone/tambourine.

To sum up...my name is Kobi, I literally have no life.  Shots?

ZINE TIME.

Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 - A Review

I entered the Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 with limited to no expectations, and I wasn't let down. We all are aware of my-not-seeing-a-movie-before-reading-the- book phobia. So as of yesterday not only have I read four very pointless and very boring books but endured every film adaptation. It is merely my OCD tendencies which compel me to read and view the atrocity which is the Twilight Saga. 

Twilight will always encompass every negative stereotype that exists about contemporary youth. I clearly have some sick pleasure in subjecting myself to something which I hate so profoundly. The conceptual weakness of Twilight is nothing compared to the poor execution of Meyer's writing. And as for the movies.... I feel I have wasted countless hours of my life watching Edward experience chronic constipation. Every movie renders me incapable of lucid thought as I endure these three main bastard characters staring at each other. 

Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn Part 2 was the most comical of the film installments, but probably not for the right reasons. Spoiler alert: Bella becomes a vampire and a mother. This is basically the plot of the movie, sorry. As a Vampire she inherits some fairly wicked strength and speed. In one particular scene she runs so fast she sees a flower bloom. I think I missed the next 20 minutes of the film as I struggled to make sense of the situation. I always thought the  blooming of a flower was commonly a process that happens occurs over more than 0. something of a second- how does Bella's new found speed affect the rate of vegetation growth? It perplexes me most profoundly. This is the way my mind works. 

As I said before the film also documents Bella's newfound motherhood with a creepy looking half human/half-vampire child who seems to be on some kind of steroid growth tablets. The unnaturally growing freak child looks like  ET's offspring; was there not enough unnatural life forms in this saga already? If nothing else the film acts as a reminder that Vampires should not copulate with mere mortals; the resulting offspring look incredibly inbred.  

Speaking of copulations, the film features K-Stew and R-Pat doing the deed. As the movie is only M, not many liberties were taken and if seeking a nipple other than Patterson's Twilight Audiences should consult Stewart's On The Road. The final film sees Jacob Black grow from a friend-zoned werewolf, to a molesting dog who has forgotten to how to take his shirt off. The only scene in which Jacob manages a strip tease involves a forty-something year old man. What can I say.?..Breaking Dawn Part 2 is a film of many genres including Gay/Mature Porno. I certainly am not on Team Jacob for Taylor's impeccable acting skills. The film include a twist ending, which honestly livened up the film. Who doesn't like a little bloodshed- I definitely preferred Dakota Fanning's fate. 

At the end of the day reviewing Twilight is a pointless exercise; but you all know how much I love wasting my time. Haters will hate Twi-hards will love and the objective viewer will sit in the corner of the cinema trying to cling to lucid thought. As the closing credits rolled, I didn't know if I was happy not to see another sparkling vampire or get nostalgic about Taylor's abs (which sadly are not very present in the film. I have tried to compensate by including some ravishing images throughout this otherwise mundane and non-arousing review). 

Schoolies, The Best Week of Our Lives?

There is a legitimate website which outlines The History of Schoolies. It defines Schoolies Week as a cultural rite of passage.  It is the type of website which I would have loved to have referenced in a bibliography at school because of the lovely ".org" tacked onto the end of the URL. Fortunately, bibliographies are basically irrelevant to my life and a thing of the past (well until Uni commences in February).  

People who know me, even vaguely (let's face it that is a majority of my audience) understand that I uphold a merry disposition whilst loathing humanity. "I hate all people. Some just have more love-able traits than others" (My Marvelous Self, 2012). If this is the first thing you have heard about me, it is probably a fantastic place to commence our relationship. Now that you understand my outlook on life, it will come as no shock to you that in approaching my Schoolies experience, the Gold Coast was not top of my list of desirable destinations.  To me the Gold Coast is a hybrid of Las Vegas and Logan and somewhat epitomises a low point in humanity. To put it simply, I chose to spend "the best week of my life" at Noosa.  

The entire week created the magnificent allusion that in the real world it is acceptable to be an alcoholic and  throw around racial slurs more frequently than I shower. Upon reflection I can see the week encouraged me to embrace the accepting nature of our Australian culture whilst experiencing leaps of regression in the intelligence of my friends/ acquaintances/ associates. Maybe it was a little bit of fate, or perhaps it is more evidence of my over indulgence in all Orwell's literature; but the irony in the numbering of room 101 was almost too much for me to handle.

A bizarre, pointless yet totally relevant photo

Sadly, like all things Schoolies had to come to an end. In many ways I found it more distressing than graduating as I now suddenly feel thrust into the real world. For Schoolies was a week of wax strips, perpetual leakage of washout hair dye (currently on special at Noosa Super IGA for $3.88),  witnessing a grown person urinating into a cup and experiencing the climatic aural orgasm which is Bon Iver. To pitch Schoolies as The best week of my life or rite of passage would be pushing it. However, it was one of the most bizarre, pointless yet totally relevant weeks of my existence thus far.

A Guide to Procrastionation

It's that particularly gruesome time of the term again, exams.If you love exams as much as I do you are probably reading this blog or on YouTube; either are standard and acceptable forms of procrastination. Let's face it watching our finger nails grow utilises the hours in the day more adequately than study ever will. To assist my own procrastination (and indeed yours)  I have compiled an extensive-ish list of 5 things to waste your time on. Because I am a suspenseful bastard I have arranged these from least to most stimulating. (I am becoming technological machine in my old age and have I have managed to link everything- horahh).

 5.Have a LIKE-ATHON 

Pick a person.. any person and tell them how much you like them.  It is preferable that you know them, because it is hard to unsubscribe to the sex-offenders list. This simple like-athon exercise is a spectacular way to conjure some exotic similes and metaphors (you know, the shit that often impresses the English department).

Please ignore how temporarily illiterate I become on Facebook chat

 

4. Mr. Methane 

There is something immensely addictive in watching auditions, especially ones featuring that one brutally honest bastard Simon Cowell.  It always boosts my self esteem when the auditions feature purple Lycra and a man with well tuned flatulence problems.

3. Frank Ocean Puns 

 A wise friend once pondered they could sea a lot of potential for Frank Ocean puns, upon instinct a wave of them do spring to mind... so follow in my rather average sized foot steps and conjure as many Frank Ocean puns humanly possible... well at least 15 

2. girl with a top knot

Her playlists are procrastination for the soul and make your iTunes seem pretty funkadelic, you know you want some. 

1.Walshy + The Other Guy and The Frenchmen Platoon

  Self-described on their YouTube channel as two guys making sweet sweet music... Walshy + The Other Guy are 9.91 minutes of comical-musical-awesomeness. The use of sexy weather puns are a ray of sunshine to the world of YouTube. If the Vlog brothers/  Loosest Aussie Bloke had some kind of awkward cyber lovechild, he would be The Frenchmen Platoon. An injury warning before viewing; may cause broken fingers.  

Note, I am not liable for the consequences of your procrastination.  Happy examinations.