Monday, August 29, 2005
i love numbers.
look at the dates! picking up from 409 st kilda, if it has been 22 days... it has been
- 2 advertising agencies (campaign palace, clemenger harvie edge)
- 15 minutes with a jason ross, exec CD, uptight, anal and bald
- (whom at a pay of $400 an hour, we had cost $100?)
it has been 5 projects:
- 1 folio of 3 x 3 pieces, from toyota to tuna and something in between, i've forgotten
- 1 flash sequence of 30 eternal seconds, no less
- 2 essays x 1000 words, 2 days each
- 1 campaign to extol the wonders of green energy
- (2460 hours of constant flatulence supplies enough gas for an a-bomb, didjaknow? who'dathunkit!)
- 5 projects / 1 week leaves u with:
- 4 days x 4 hours slumber
- but i had many hours more which i didn't bother to count, after the last deadline
man, so much homework. what a shit life. it has also been:
- 1 ripe alien egg oozing mustard (and periperi and Black sambal), resulting in
- 1 old wound, reopened
- which meant 2 doctors, as usual
- 24 antibiotic pills and more dressings
- i have made 20 ciggs outlast 1 week, in a pro-health bid
- but i had many ciggs more which i didn't bother to count, after that particular week
- i have eaten 7 golden kiwis, in a pro-vitamin c bid
- on the advice of 1 loving girlfriend, speaking of which...
- 1 new welcome to the 20 year-old ranks!
new:
- 7 books on art, advertising, and the like
- 5 comics
- 2 of which are new to me - "the milkman murders" (joe casey, steve parkhouse) and "crimson: loyalty & loss" (brian augustyn, humberto ramos)
- 3 animation styles - bub, clio's catfish, and recyclebein
- 1 dali poster, "the temptation of st. anthony"
- and 5 ginseng teabags
please check out humberto ramos, whether u're comic fan or art student or ignoramus, becoz u'll wonder all the same, if he is insane or u are. it doesn't matter, we all are. anyway wrapping up with the miscallaney, it has been
- 1 year and 1 month from my first bm blog
- the 2nd of which will be up tomorrow... i think? hope? in time to celebrate
- 48 years of merdeka and muslim censorship.
i'm a cynic. i love numbers.
Monday, August 08, 2005
409 st kilda rd
is where the campaign palace's office sits. naturally i called beforehand, and the people i wanted were not there - naturally. this is advertising, for fucksake. nothing's ever done with a singular phonecall, visit, email, whatever, unless u're head honcho with either agency or client. so i reached natasha's mailbox, hung up, called again, and left a message (this is standard - i'm incapable of leaving messages to strangers on the first try).
more than that, i left a stupid message. "call me back", from a student to the fucking asst CD (creative director, if u didn't know). no can do dude!, i told myself, it's simply not gonna happen. might as well make an appearance in person. and i'd rather be rejected in person than not know i'd been rejected becoz they were too busy to call back. after lunch, after a scenic illegal tram ride, i stood at 409 st kilda, eyes running up the tenants' directory. found 'campaign palace' easily enough, but it was another word on the board which jumped out, reached through my corneas and sockets and wrapped itself around my mind like a python.
'gapbuster'.
holyfuck. Damn Unreal. i couldn't think, really. maybe it's just that things like coincidence, fate, they don't get to me anymore. i'm no longer surprised at how the world works. (like how i spoke to eu jin about matthew, on pure whim. i haven't seen matthew in ten years, and three days later, he pops up in? - fucking stokers. in fucking heidelberg. what are the odds? who cares?) being numb like so, i just remember thinking in the elevator, that bro could very well have been in the exact spot i was standing, six? seven? years ago. see, bro used to work at gapbuster. irony is a joy, and needing to share it with someone, i dialed up gan.
"yo, i'm downstairs", and we had a nice chat...
as i stepped out into the sun again, i could almost see that great arbiter, the master puppeteer towering in the sky, playing his invisible cables to which we dance to. two brothers, inexplicably drawn toward the same drab, brown building? are we all just caught in a tangle of puppet strings? can anything explain this phenomenon? alas... no philosophical distraction here - i can explain.
melbourne is just too damned small.
and about campaign palace... yea, i got what i wanted. rejected in person.
more than that, i left a stupid message. "call me back", from a student to the fucking asst CD (creative director, if u didn't know). no can do dude!, i told myself, it's simply not gonna happen. might as well make an appearance in person. and i'd rather be rejected in person than not know i'd been rejected becoz they were too busy to call back. after lunch, after a scenic illegal tram ride, i stood at 409 st kilda, eyes running up the tenants' directory. found 'campaign palace' easily enough, but it was another word on the board which jumped out, reached through my corneas and sockets and wrapped itself around my mind like a python.
'gapbuster'.
holyfuck. Damn Unreal. i couldn't think, really. maybe it's just that things like coincidence, fate, they don't get to me anymore. i'm no longer surprised at how the world works. (like how i spoke to eu jin about matthew, on pure whim. i haven't seen matthew in ten years, and three days later, he pops up in? - fucking stokers. in fucking heidelberg. what are the odds? who cares?) being numb like so, i just remember thinking in the elevator, that bro could very well have been in the exact spot i was standing, six? seven? years ago. see, bro used to work at gapbuster. irony is a joy, and needing to share it with someone, i dialed up gan.
"yo, i'm downstairs", and we had a nice chat...
as i stepped out into the sun again, i could almost see that great arbiter, the master puppeteer towering in the sky, playing his invisible cables to which we dance to. two brothers, inexplicably drawn toward the same drab, brown building? are we all just caught in a tangle of puppet strings? can anything explain this phenomenon? alas... no philosophical distraction here - i can explain.
melbourne is just too damned small.
and about campaign palace... yea, i got what i wanted. rejected in person.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
skipping schoolwork for 3 weeks costs.
$3, to be exact, to photocopy all the missed briefs. too mou mein to see the tutors. and yesterday a stagnant 5 hour night and a break and 1+ hour of shuffling papers, but anyway. the stale news... becoz somewhere along the line i started using this blog to gauge the railway stops in life. and i hate long empty journeys between stops, sometimes i wonder if i've been asleep and dreaming and whether i'm really there or not. so things must not go unrecorded, no can do.
done rebuilding my pc stock, i thought i'd seen it all, but nothing prepared me for the Second Coming. uniwork, past years' uniwork, mp3s, writings, dloads, links, kaput. then i did the replugging ritual (can prob do this blindfolded now) and found 3 gigabytean files from the future. date modified: sometime in 2036, 2034, and 2028 respectively.
this bout of losing-all and scratch-starting started with a game of nicks (haha i hear a george martin title) when i copied shovia's "black monday" nick, which resulted in tuesday being Black. i was so upset that next i copied (kelvin) i went biblical, "lama sabachthani" from matthew's.
and i bought a chair, exchanged it becoz wrong colour, which turned out crap anyway. they never feel like they do in ikea. now a much better idea, is a bench:
- u can put your feet up, as i do
- have someone sit beside u...
- have a bunch of someones sit around
- preferably chicks; it's basically more social
- doubles as a low tabletop
- more studioey
- and... nap, anytime!
which i'd trained to do on my old piano bench without falling off. hard to believe innit? used to play all day, sleep without getting up, then play some more. crazyfuck. the things u do when u're sober, Hah?!
but back to the present. put a platform on my one-way track and call it august. and it's one year ago that i tried my hand at a bm blog. and meanwhile i've found... check this out... by none other than yasmin ahmad. "kak yasmin" to some guy a hop away from ling in a storyteller's club. try looking for director's notes for sepet, and a quote from a bengali nobel winner. the new addition at sidebar goes to pothead-fuck-u-ling's purple baby.
it's a shelleyday!
done rebuilding my pc stock, i thought i'd seen it all, but nothing prepared me for the Second Coming. uniwork, past years' uniwork, mp3s, writings, dloads, links, kaput. then i did the replugging ritual (can prob do this blindfolded now) and found 3 gigabytean files from the future. date modified: sometime in 2036, 2034, and 2028 respectively.
this bout of losing-all and scratch-starting started with a game of nicks (haha i hear a george martin title) when i copied shovia's "black monday" nick, which resulted in tuesday being Black. i was so upset that next i copied (kelvin) i went biblical, "lama sabachthani" from matthew's.
and i bought a chair, exchanged it becoz wrong colour, which turned out crap anyway. they never feel like they do in ikea. now a much better idea, is a bench:
- u can put your feet up, as i do
- have someone sit beside u...
- have a bunch of someones sit around
- preferably chicks; it's basically more social
- doubles as a low tabletop
- more studioey
- and... nap, anytime!
which i'd trained to do on my old piano bench without falling off. hard to believe innit? used to play all day, sleep without getting up, then play some more. crazyfuck. the things u do when u're sober, Hah?!
but back to the present. put a platform on my one-way track and call it august. and it's one year ago that i tried my hand at a bm blog. and meanwhile i've found... check this out... by none other than yasmin ahmad. "kak yasmin" to some guy a hop away from ling in a storyteller's club. try looking for director's notes for sepet, and a quote from a bengali nobel winner. the new addition at sidebar goes to pothead-fuck-u-ling's purple baby.
it's a shelleyday!
