Gesamtkunstwerk

went to the ngv today, finally, to see caravaggio. because, as the pragmatic jeff hayes said, i'd have to go to italy to see them otherwise, and that's kinda difficult. and being the last day, it was packed. didn't know there were so many art enthuisiasts, and quite a few in wheelchairs too, surprising. but being the ngv after all, we had the comfort of being packed neatly in uniform rows while queueing.

i queued about an hour, a third of which was to pay for the ticket and the rest to wait to get into the actual exhibition. too many people in there, had to wait for some to get out. but 1 good thing was i got to keep my guy bourdin ticket till next time, that is, before it ends in 7 days. it was a normal gallery trip... all of them great paintings, but only about half to catch your attention and even less than half of that that're really, er stunning? to render me a statue of thought. (huh...)

anyway the week break has started. and after all the h/w has been handed in it's a sort of anticlimax. everyone melts away with their plans and being me, i get bored. really sad. but i'm happy to announce i turned a morning person overnight/week, and am sleeping normal hours, and normal length of hours. caught up with a good book, death of ivan illyich, leo tolstoy, which is not half of an enid blyton volume but kept me occupied for 2 hours.

gtg. interrupted.

i'm turning 20 in a few months. and when i do i'll look back and say, what bloody great thing have i accomplished in my evanescent teenage years? and the answer will be Redefining Last-Minute.

or Redefining Slacker Students.

there was this thingy... bulletin post, on friendster once which discusses quarterlife crisis, which is when u hit mid 20s and suddenly realize u won't have the answers forever. u worry that things don't last and keep talking to people about the same issues to console yourself. speaking of memorable achievements... i've once thought of giving dear dear acia my guardian some trouble, in the 9 months she held that post. maybe even end up in jail for underage clubbing.

very negative. huh. i've positive dreams too... to backpack across europe by eurail. create a comic book which will be catalyst for the future of comics. play in an oldskool type band with a unique instrument of some sort (heard of the shakuhachi flute?). write a fantastic screenplay, go to hollywood to work with kate beckinsale, and marry her.

but for now it'll be just being model slacker. i seem to get extensions easy, or even if i don't i get a normal mark. got an 87% total for drawing, and the teach then said he had a "2-mark leeway", meaning if i'd gotten 88 instead, he could've marked me 90. ah well. copywriting folio tonight.

smp: a uniquely melbourne event.

so what is there intrinsic to melbourne? i was thinking flinders station and yellow-green trams and the arts centre tower, when my friend got it on first go. the perfect idea, the elegant solution. and wah lau, damn simple and also appealing to the right market. speaking of which, he's pretty damn fat nowadays... and the funny thing is, his bro and sis are kinda chubby themselves, the sis's bf too hahah, and they've just bought a lil puppy, also kinda fat. heee.

so what's uniquely melbourne? the shuffle.

it's gold.

one reason uni is just so cool - u talk about all kinds of shit in class! and once in a while u get this really strong topic with a strong issue and when everyone contributes their opinions... it's like... wow, this is uni! hahahh. simon actually asks us if we've seen nice ads recently, asks about what we think about tv shows and even once caught up with an episode he missed with someone. it makes him all the more "normal", really. very much easier to get along with. other lecturers don't discuss tv shows, u wonder what the hell they do, since they're all so much older than u. anyway yesterday we got around to why survivor aust was so shit for aussies, and blablabla about big brother and shit (where i was obviously quiet throughout... sad) and then - why is reality tv such a big hit?

it's becoz we identify with those people. we don't talk to our neighbours anymore, like it or not. we'd rather sit home zonked out in front of the tv, and just dreaming of knowing people rather than getting to know them literally. that's scary, says sarah. it is. so why do we identify with them? they're real people, with real attitudes and imperfections and so u relate to them. that's like characters in a novel, says siobhan. yea but these're real, simon counters. and so the terrible truth settles - that big business actually capitalizes on soceity's quirks, even/especially negative ones, and exploits them.

but all is not lost. the #8 tram driver cut through all dreariness today with his random wisecracks. "your conversation is greatly welcome, passengers, else i'll start fantasizing i'm driving a hearse." hehe. that got a few chuckles and people actually started talking then. silence is golden, but not always, and the noise that cleaved it was so much more. it's good to know people would still talk to strangers. and for the first time in my life, i thanked the driver while getting off.

sincerely. =)

moving on... at the counter in starbucks later, i gave my name as "skywalker!" result? got the girl who handed me my drink smiling like crazy. then i cried myself laughing as i wondered if no one had answered her... she'd have to call skywalker a few times, possibly louder every time, maybe even ask people, "are u skywalker?" hahahahahhh!! and what if i'd given a full thai name, manasirimongkol lertsiriumnouyphon? and made a big fuss over the right spelling and held up the whole line waiting for their caffeine shot. and if he'd tried to shorten it, i'd tell him while it was quintessentially aussie to shorten names, in my culture it's the ultimate insult. man, it'd be like a just kidding gag or something. and while all these passed through my mind and my eyes were brimming with tears, jacky sat opposite looking at idiocy incarnate.

of course........ it's not new. i'll bet thousands of starbucks goers have tried it and just as many thousands of starbucks employees have humoured them, and multiply that by god knows how many other coffee outlet brands there are, and i'll be the stupid loon thinking he's a smartarse by catching on to a cliche. makes u wonder how damn hard it is to start something novel (ever an issue in advertising, sigh). and makes u wonder how humour works. think about actors doing tens of takes on a scene... it won't be funny anymore, but maybe in the right circumstances it could be again. wonder how they feel when their audience is genuinely tickled, laughing their heads off with no idea about all the hard work that went behind that single scene.

wow, my thoughts're all over the place. i'd better stop...

with a li'l secret? one method for thinking outside the box, play the word association game backwards. i'm still working on it myself =)

i'm in a house. everything about it is familiar, though i can't really say why. but familiar is a concept, and just as well, we're on a story about concepts here, not specific details. i stand in the middle of the living room, yet another concept, because space is space and the living room might as well be tv room, or put a billiard table in it and it's the pool room. my mind tells me i've been here before, but i'm sure i've never. and it strikes me: this is an assimilation of places i've been. an amalgam of various locations, a melding of dreamscapes. and so it is familiar - new but retaining old elements. i recall that cupboard containing that flying apparatus, but that was in the holiday house by the beach. now even without opening it, i am aware of the musty brooms and old dustpan behind the door.

so this is a new dream. on the surface it's boring (to be sure! for my flying equipment to be replaced with ancient tools...) i linger on that old dream - what i'd give to feel the punch under your midriff as u drop down a hill suspended only by air currents. but i do not have much time, as there is an invisible guest. concepts! - there is someone around but i don't know his face. we stand in the middle of the living room as i introduce him to the tv, sofa and beanbag.

we progress through the house. i talk about everything seemingly impromptu, showing him the bedrooms, toilets, more broom cupboards. damn boring house. but it is so that i find out about my house from myself, from words from my own tongue. in a weird-shaped room, i stick my thumb in the general direction of a far corner and prattle off about something. and later i glance behind to find i'm right. but in the pantry i find a dog. a young puppy... so something's wrong. like finding your old house exactly as it is, in full detail, but a crucial part misplaced. i didn't know i had a dog.

i mull around a bit, and time passes. my friend has disappeared but suddenly there are more people. the intruders' presences ooze malice so foul i feel it immediately, without looking up. in retrospect, i didn't have anything to look at, there was no door entrance to this weird place. but in a trice i had rolled on my back, over the beanbag to land in a squat outside my french windows. so This is what works for me.

in a trice, i was on a recon mission of sneak - snoop - run. in moments i knew all their abominable plans. i was a lethal weapon, swift, silent, fluid, up next door's balcony before i knew it. there i lay down comfortably, out of sight, barely out of earshot. stealth. throes of knowledge washed over me, till it was time to get going. in times like these every chance is a golden chance. a pickup truck parks itself outside my house and someone walks in uninvited. hey surprise! there Is a front door.

the thoughts flow as spontaneously as i did. the baddies playing impostors, will engage pickup guy, leaving the coast clear for me for... give or take 10 seconds. by which time i'll be just a shadow and a few echoed footsteps, as i execute some impossible acrobatics, a macaco into the curtains, dragging-shinnying down them to land in a semi-cabecada, then softly onto my head, rolling silently onto my feet, right at my shoes. it's always manners to remove your shoes before entering, no?

shit happens. i trip over my shoes. pickup guy runs out with a Really Hi Tech rifle. fuck, he's one of them! desperation gripped - i resorted to more twisting to avoid his bullets yet reach the street junction just 15 feet away. hands become feet and vice-versa, and cartwheeling this way and that, i became a ball, with no sense of head or tail; i became a whirlwind, front and back one and the same. ah, the asolute freedom of capoeira.

my acrobatics end in esquiva and i come to my feet for a proper run, bursting from my crouch for the junction and more importantly, the barrier-cum-haven of the wall. i'm hit, and never look back. craning around i find it's a tranquilizer dart. ignoring pain, ignoring all preconceived ideas, i yanked it out in mid stride, and ran and ran and ran.

no one gives chase, but still i ran. my chest heats up, then all feeling subsides as it overheats. my muscles ache as they still obediently tense and loose to my mind. i'm running on will alone now. i breathe mechanically but it doesn't seem to do any good. my muscles feel like they're drying up, shrivelling from lack of air. how's this for anaerobic exercise?

i find myself in an alley. heaving and nearly falling over myself i chance one more look behind - nobody. but still not taking chances, i turn forwards, never stopping. it is chaos as your system is overrun and at different paces all over and u force it for that little bit more - a window is open above, and as it registers i make for it by instinct alone, all in the same moment - never pausing, i vaulted up, supported myself across by the lower window and door frames and iron grilles and whatnot. think jackie chan. i was still clear mentally, calculating my strength with the variance in endurance, checking out the wood of my landing site. it is brittle but will take my weight. i made it through the window with what agility i could muster. pride, as i reflected the irony that these stunts were far beyond impossible were i awake.

and then - pain - unsurpassed. oxygen was mercury, coursing through my limbs as i heaved huge breaths to compensate for all the useless ones before. my balance was put off by my heavy breathing alone. the physical effort tightens my cheeks as i straighten up and drop to the interior floor, contracting excruciating cramps on both legs upon impact. it's like in the movies, how i lift my finger to shush the room's occupant. the maternal woman looks at me oddly, then went to the bed to check on her sleeping daughter.

a silver dart still peeks from within my clenched fist.

that'd be lars ulrich.

whoah unreal. changing the date on your comp is a way around bugs as well, a basic one. 3 months back and the shutdown timer snaps from 00:07 to 90 days. it's like prince megahit, damnit.

i'm in apathy. and forced by the circumstance to install security update kbb835732, anyway had to switch it back to the current time to actually get windows updates but switched back to yesterday after starting dloading... it's already a game not to shut down. the other day i was walking along and there was this promotion for free hours in a cybercafe. free internet? the way it's going, the net's gonna be so intrinsic to the real world that it'll be the other way round, that no one will be free from the internet. anyway...! there's more type-based stuff to be done in illustrator... but getting lazy. hmm i've said that before... there, right up there -

i'm in apathy. my teacher steve is annoyed and indignant, chiding me from within memories - "where's your passion?!" but at present i'm chilling out to good music... u know, like how people call hotel california an 'evergreen', i've a few evergreens myself... whisky in the jar, metallica always puts u (well... me) in an upbeat mood. must look for more songs like that. and since the playlist goes alphabetically, i'll put the next in the list m2m - mirror mirror unplugged. hahhah! it's the first time i'm writing about music. next in line are some garbage and roxette and uh, gitaroo man? firehouse somewhere, too. certain songs are only good for certain contexts. like how spring cleaning for me is better accompanied by avril lavigne going "is it enooouugh to love, is it enooouugh to breathe? ... leave me here to bleed..."

seriously, go and check out the king of toms, in whisky in the jar. what makes it more lighthearted is the fact it's a pirate ballad =p and amano tsukiko - chou-butterfly that's fatal frame 2's theme. and of course joe satriani - love thing for cool guitar solos and if u're still in the mood, then steve vai.

u know something, i think it was ryan, he said kill bill 2's ending song was originally an italian, to 'farewell the bride'... but the japanese version, urami bushi is still a sad song, and quite powerful too. i've come to notice soundtracks nowadays, from pretty good movies like kill bill: "bang bang, she shot me down" to the funny theme from eternal sunshine. it's neither happy nor sad, but just goes on... it's more curiosity-themed music. speaking of which, here's the whole verse:

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind;
each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.

i'm still in apathy. i wish my h/w will turn to mist.