I've Decided to Be A Recluse

I've decided to become a recluse. People are stupid. Who needs them? I'm going to get a shitty 3 day a week job, a small carpeted apartment and a 4 track tape recorder and never talk to anybody again. For the first few months I will order all my groceries over the internet and then when I can be bothered I'm going to dig up my backyard and turn it into a subsistence farm. I won't run the risk of having to converse with neighbours in awkward over the fence small talk because I will hire cheap Korean child labour to do all my farm work for me. The farm will have a rice paddy, a cow, a capsicum patch, onion patch and carrot patch so that I can eat Beef in Black Bean Sauce every meal of the day. The Korean children will make the black bean sauce because I couldn't be bothered learning how. Think this a joke? Well, check out this highly detailed plan:

To keep me company in my exile will be a mix tape of songs which revel in indulgent introversion so as to not make me feel in any way curious about the outside world. On top of this, a small collection of DVD's of films and TV shows with cynical, lazy protagonists will reaffirm my disdain towards anything social. In between recording a magnum opus of rock (which I won't ever play to anyone) I will watch these films and listen to this mix tape constantly and never get sick of it. The collection is as follows:

Mix Tape

1. Eels - Things the Grandchildren Should Know
2. Eels - Lone Wolf
3. Eels - Love of the Loveless
4. Leonard Cohen - The Future
5. The Velvet Underground - Femme Fatale
6. The Beach Boys - Caroline, No
7. J Mascis - Everybody Lets Me Down
8. Gentle Ben and His Sensitive Side - I Don't Think She Loves Me
9. Nick Cave - People Ain't No Good
10. Nick Cave - Where Do We Go Now But Nowhere
11. Eels - Packing Blankets

The DVD's

1. Crimes and Misdemeanours
2. The Big Lebowski
3. Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 1
4. Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 2
   
5. Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 3
   
6. Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 4
7. Black Books Season 1

You know it makes sense.

I hate you.

The Collective

The Collective
A Television Drama Written and Concieved by Yuri Koskov-Koskov

Orange, Central NSW. 1993. A Polish refugee, Igor Jason, moves into town to persue his life long dream of teaching pilates to school children. Upon moving into his new apartment on the top floor of a sleazy pub hotel, Igor meets Graham, a free-spirited magician who immediately takes Igor under his wing. Graham begins training Igor in the black arts in his spare time and is blown away by his physical flexibility and dissidence towards mass-consumed concepts of god and life. The two bond immediately and within weeks, Graham invites Igor to join the Collective. But is the collective all that it seems?

Pestilence

Last time I checked, everything on TV was the artistic equivalent of having a llama vomit muesli into your earhole. I can't confirm that this is still true, as I haven't actually watched TV in a matter of months - but the random snippets of TV world gossip I have had the misfortune of overhearing don't fill me with promise (Curb Your Enthusiasm being shown at 3am on Wednesdays, for example.)

What TV needs is a maverick with some real ideas. Somebody with comedic writing skills. Somebody young. Somebody 3/4 of the way through an electrical engineering degree. Somebody with an amusing web log. Any ideas?

'Pestilence'
A Reality TV show devised and conceived by Yuri Koskov-Koskov

15 ex-Big Brother contestants, bound by a shoddy contract with some very small small-print, travel to the exotic location of Muraroa Atoll for a 55 day adventure. Each contestant is sent to the island handcuffed naked to a diseased animal. Hidden inside each animal are at least 180 contagious diseases, all of which have to be contracted through different physical acts with their given animal. The aim of the game is to contract as many of these diseases as possible. Each week, the contestant who contracts the least diseases is expelled from the island. To ensure that the contestant doesn't consider this some kind victory, the expelled individual will have their larynx adjusted to make their speech indecipherable and will then be covered in tar and feathers; doomed to spend the rest of their life as a chicken. The eventual winner will be given a 6 month subscription to Australian Golf Magazine, an amusing T-shirt and a Panadol.

10 Uses For A Hammer

Hammers are surprisingly versatile. Far from being nought but an irritatingly overpriced implement integral to the process of hanging up a painting of a house or an amusing calendar, hammers are equally adept in more meaty, unexpected contexts. Let me prove it with the forthcoming list:

1. On your office/home work desk, balance the hammer on the side of the head used for pulling out nails. The hammer suddenly takes on the form of an aesthetically pleasing and unusually non-static piece of visual art. Marvel as the hammer wobbles each time you make even the most subtle of physical movements on the desk. Weeeeee!
2. If you're attending a themed party which requires you to dress up as a professional who's job description possesses the same first letter as your name, place a hammer in your belt and WULLAH, you've come halariously dressed as a Carpenter (I'm assuming here that you're name starts with 'C').
3. If you're a high court judge depressed by the tedium of you're work, a hammer makes for a very amusing gavel. If anybody in the court asks you why you are using a hammer, simply say in a comically halarious tone 'My wife threw my gavel in the washing - I had to improvise'. Everyone in the court house will die with laughter; especially if it's a rape case.
4. If you're at a friend/relative's house and they own a dog; go to their hardware cupboard, retrieve some superglue and glue the hammer to the dogs tail. Watch on in hysterics as the dog whines in confusion and whacks itself in the face every time it attempts to chase its tail.
5. When exams are over, take all of your text books for that semester into the great court and pound them with your hammer. Make sure you do this oblivious to the fact that a thick, university-type text book will probably not actually sustain any damage from this method.
6. Enter a busy toilet complex with your hammer in hand, in full view of everyone. Enter your toilet. A few seconds later, before the other people leave, hide the hammer up your jumper/shirt and leave the toilet. Be smug for the rest of the day knowing that the people in the bathroom will spend the rest of their lives wondering what on earth you did with that hammer.
   
7. Break a toilet. Have you ever seen a toilet break before? Neither have I, but it sounds highly amusing.
8. Use it as a pointer when giving oral presentations. If the examiner asks you why you're carrying a hammer just say 'I'm sorry, I don't speak spanish.'
9. Hammers make very amusing cutlery items. If you're dining in the Schonell Pizza Caffe, for example, use the nail grabber to pick up each piece of pizza. If anybody gives you a funny look, just say 'get with the times, gilfriend' and proceed to remove your pants.
10. If you're teaching Dutch to school children and they're having trouble remembering the Dutch word for 'bucket', a hammer will make for an unforgettable prop to assist their learning.
    

more domestic advice soon...

Attractive People Make Me Genocidal

Guess what? I've discovered a demographic more detrimental to my everyday well-being than high schoolers. For those of you who have read the title of this post may guess, I am referring to attractive people.

There are WAY too many attractive people in the world. They serve no purpose to me. Seriously, what do I have to gain by having tanned, well-dressed, confident people running around in front of me and in my peripheral vision all day? WHAT DO I HAVE TO GAIN? I seriously can't work it out.

Why do people pursue gatherings of attractive demographics of people in order to attain some 'eye candy?' Why is this considered a fun thing to do? This 'eye candy' has never done anything positive for me or my life. Unless of course you consider becoming an embittered, reclusive, vomiting wreck positive. I don't see anything fun or intoxicating about watching crowds of attractive, dumb, slutty, overrated, undeservedly happy whores whilst muttering to myself 'Can't have that. Can't have that. Can't have that. Can't have that' over and over until I develop a repetitive stress disorder. What's wrong with all of you screw-heads? How can you sleep at night?

Why can't everyone just be a GPA 4.5 in the attractiveness scale of 0-7. Then nobody would be that ugly that they would be forcibly and unfairly ostracised from society due to a physical defect beyond their control. And, even better, there wouldn't be anyone that attractive that they would warrant receiving undeserved attention and affection due to physical gifts beyond their control. In fact, fuck calling it a 'physical gift' - I'm going to call it a 'physical defect'. The definition of a defect is subjective in this context and attractive people disgust me. It's a defect. Get fucked.

Superficiality is destroying society. It ruins every single day that I venture outside my house. Everywhere I go I see perfectly decent but unattractive people looking bored and depressed and even more frequently I see witless, trendy, good-looking dicks and cunts with tans and 500 dollar sunglasses sitting in cafes talking about the time one of their friends hooked up with someone and giggling like a dolphin getting a hand job.

Is anyone even paying fucking attention to this fascist social hierarchy that we have going on here? Why isn't this the number one issue on the agenda every time the Australian parliament's House of Reps meet? All I ever hear is dogshit about petty changes in taxes and implications of a minister 'misleading the public'. It's boring and nobody cares. If the government want my respect they should spend question time identifying attractive people 'hot-spots' and strategically launching ballistic missiles at them. Then they can spend half their budget on a comically overblown advertising campaign which states that 'Genocide is Fun'.

Vomit.

10 Things You Don't Know About Me

1. I'm a sociopath. I hate people and feel extremely embarrassed when purchasing toilet paper - just like Darryl Hannah [1]

2. I giggle like a school girl whenever I watch Jamie Leonarder on the SBS Movie Show. I'm not joking. A few nights ago, Fenella was away and it was just Megan and Jamie hosting the show. Jamie was so funny and charming and Megan was giggling and touching him like there was no tomorrow. I was so jealous but then again I don't blame her. He's so cool. He made another awesome pun this week as well. When reviewing Revenge of the Sith he quipped 'I kept thinking to myself whilst watching this film - is Sith an anagram?' Oh my god. He's so cool.

3. I have a mild form of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Whenever I am around a computer I can't physically stop myself from going to www.smh.com.au every few minutes. I am convinced that some spectacular news-worthy event has just occurred and I'm going to be the first to find out about it (apart from the journalists at the Sydney Morning Herald of course).

4. I'm a cleptomaniac. I steal everything which is in my peripheral vision. Guitar picks and pens are my specialty. I am the mysterious black hole that Jerry Seinfeld referred to when he quipped 'Where are all the pens?'

5. I draw strange, abstract shapes and doodles whenever I have access to a pen and a piece of paper. This is an addiction, not a hobby. Every single piece of written work I've ever done has been littered with them - even stuff which I have handed in for assessment. I'm not sure what they mean. I'd show them to a psychologist but I'm petrified that he/she would deduct that I am a pedophile based on the drawings and lock me away in an instution for life.

6. I live a very exciting life. A normal day for me would involve more adventure, drama and hot gypsies than you'd normally experience in 6 months (or 50 years in the case of the hot gypsies). When people ask me what I do and what I've been up to I will quite often flippantly remark, 'not much. I never really do anything'. It's a lie. I just don't want you to feel sorry for yourself and you're petty, boring existence.

7. I can't tell if the girl on a computer diagonally from me is attractive or not. She has a book with the word 'grammatik' on the cover. Perhaps she's French. I can't stop looking at her. Perhaps she is attractive. Hmmmm.... not so sure anymore. Maybe she isn't. I think she's a little lost - she's looking all over the room. She seems quite discombobulated. Maybe I should say something to her. Shame I'm a sociopath. She just sighed. Now she's using the computer. I'll stop now. Ask me how it went in the comments section. I could write about this all night. Seriously. I've decided that she's attractive again.

8. I find http://groups.yahoo.com/groups/UQ_Toilets very amusing

9. I worship the Beach Boys

10. I don't like you

Bibliography

[1] Dr. Gonzo, personal communication 2005

Writer's Block

I am tentative to call myself a 'writer' because it implies that I believe that the garbage I post on this blog amounts to something resembling professionalism. Nevertheless, with petty insecurities about being viewed as egotistical aside, I think I have some kind of 'writer's block'.

Why has this occurred? I have several theories:

1. I have problems with commiting to one idea or style of expression for an extended period of time. This is why I will never write a novel or a screenplay - there's no way I could stick to one idea for more than a few days at a time and suspend my disbelief in the fact that what i'm writing is racoon-faeces and basically just not worth the time or effort. Blogging quells this problem to an extent as I am able to change style and content each time I post but I still expect that there are some remnants of this issue which extend to the blogging universe.

2. Perhaps nothing is really annoying me at the moment. When Jerry made a remark about a button and George replied 'you've said that before' in the final ever episode of Seinfeld, the implication was that his muse for material had disappeared or dried up and the show had to cease as a result. Perhaps something similar has happened here. A large part of my material arises from a few exaggerated quibbles with life. Maybe I have no quibbles anymore? Is quibble a word?

3. Perhaps a lack of time is a problem. I am currently entering the end of a uni semester, reviewing for street press, busy making music with two bands, writing a sitcom and playing a hell of a lot of Tiger Woods 2004. Oh my god! I've got such an interesting life. You must all think i'm so cool. I'm a wanker.

4. I have no penis. Perhaps having no penis is stopping me from being a man and standing up to my duties as an extremely popular blogger. No penis.

Give me your input. I value it to an extent.

Words that Aren't Used Enough

#1. Grouse

Pros

- Easy to say and can be further punctuated by holding the ‘ou’ sound for extended periods of time

- has less syllables than ‘the bomb’

- has less syllables than ‘fucking awesome’

- has less syllables than ‘fucking sweet’

- has less syllables than ‘fucking excellent’

Cons

- Sounds too much like ‘gross’

- Too ‘old school’ for mainstream types

- Has more syllables than saying nothing at all

#2. Jurisprudence

Pros

- will make you sound well-educated and cultured, even if the people you are speaking to don’t know what it means

- it will help your chances of hooking up with a female law student

- has all sorts of cool word buildings such as ‘jurisprudential’ and ‘jurisprudentially’

- it’s a noun

- has less syllables than ‘invincibility’

Cons

- the word ‘prudence’ sounds a bit fruity

- must be used in moderation

- risk of having to explain what it means, or actually discuss it with the female law student

#3. ‘My Wife is having a Baby’

Pros

- can get you out of any awkward situation

- makes you sound mature and responsible

- confirms your either not impotent, or else impotent and rich enough to afford IVF

- it will give you an air of unattainability

- good ice breaker at parties

Cons

- raises questions over your dedication to your wife and child seeming as your living in a share house with friends

- nobody is going to believe you. (Particularly if you insist in using it for 10 months)

- not a very good pick up line to women with enough moral high ground to not knowingly commit adultery

#4. Juxtaposition

Pros

- would score well in a game of scrabble

- the ‘jux’ syllable sounds cool

- a detailed analysis of the word would be a good ice breaker at parties

Cons

- the word as a whole doesn’t roll off the tongue smoothly (despite the appeal of the ‘jux’ syllable)

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With constructive criticisms and further material by Björn Hake, Julian Ensbey and Joseph Carroll. General distractions and unwarranted abuse by Tarli Young

This is What Happens When You Beg For a New Post

Cautiously, Jimbo climbed the ladder at the back of his apartment block until he reached his back window. Jimbo walked onto a lead platform and, oblivious to the fact that he was a mouse, picked up a large rock. He then threw the rock at his window and in a bizarre twist of fate, it broke. Jimbo, still completely oblivious to the fact that he was a mouse, trotted inside and picked up the telephone to ring his insurance manager. After it was revealed to Jimbo that he had actually broken a prestige, one-of-a-kind window owned by the world's only trillionare and was required to pay damages in excess of 4 billion dollars, it dawned on Jimbo that perhaps he should have just used the door. Accompanying this realisation was the another realisation which involved Jimbo being slightly pissed off. Jimbo, tactful and subtle as always, decided that rather than take out his rage on his insurance manager, it would be quicker and simpler to kill an innocent pedestrian with a blunt object. And he did.

The gangsters of the town, affectionately known by locals as 'The Rampaging, Violent Fuckers', wanted to kill Jimbo. There was no real reason for this, they were just feeling a bit bored and decided that they should pick a random person (or mouse) from the phonebook and kill him, her or it. There was no real reason for this either, but they'd had a tedious week and wanted to make the local Mafia boss think that they were active members of the local crime community, which they weren't. Jimbo's first run-in with the thugs took place at the local greyhound track, where Jimbo was being used by a corrupt policeman as a dog substitute. As it turned out, the dog Jimbo was pretending to be was odds-on favourite and had such a strong following that nobody cared that it had shrunk to one thirteenth of its original size, was of an inferior species and would probably get lapped in a one lap race even if it had a V8 engine rammed up its arse. Anyhow, the gangsters were suspicious that something wasn't normal. After 3 hours of intense debate in their secret conference room in the middle of a busy street, they concluded that someone had spiked their orange juice and immediately rang the local hardware store and asked if they could put some CPVC pipe fittings on lay-by for the weekend.

Trains. Can we live without them? The answer, of course, is a resounding maybe. If you would be interested in a slightly more intelligible answer to this question, I suggest you pick up the phone and ring 'Graham's Home Shopping'. It is highly unlikely you will get an answer out of them, but Graham owes me 2 dollars and refuses to pay me back, so any inconvenience directed at him is greatly appreciated.

THE END

Dogshit

Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. Vomit. Bernard Fanning. Vomit.

Vomit everywhere. Everything is just turning into vomit or some slight variation of it. Bodily fluids are disgusting. Think about it. It's ALL shit - even the stuff that isn't.

I didn't achieve anything at uni this week. NO PENIS. I have a test on Monday which I need 60% on the pass the subject. If I sat it now i'd get 25% if I was lucky. It's mothers day so I have to go home but I can't afford to. Everything is vomit. No matter what I do I'm cunted. If I go home, I fail the subejct and I end up living like a piece of shit in a gutter eating my best friend's dandruff for breakfast. If I stay here, my mother will disown me and I will end up living like a piece of shit in a gutter eating my best friend's dandruff for breakfast. The bottom line is that no matter what path I take, it all leads to dandruff-ville.

It reminds me of the second last time I went to a Ball: I had a shortened, average night in which, despite some difficulties, I felt as though I put in a good effort with everybody. At 1 in the morning, as I'm attempting to get some sleep some friends barge through the door and berate me for disowning them, putting in no effort and spending too much time with my girlfriend. It was bollocks but I sat and listened to their whimpy excuse for a diatribe in order that they would leave the room in a calm fashion. 20 minutes later my girlfriend at the time came into the room and berated me for disowning her, putting in no effort and spending too much time with my friends.

Everyone is stupid. Nobody knows what I go through. You're all DICKS. You're worth nothing. Piss off.

The people at Scene think I'm a dull wanker with no redeeming features. I tried to make small talk with them when I went in there last but I came off as boring and unimportant (I wonder why?). Then later on I got in some banter with them in which one of the girls there was described as an 'Intern, like Monica Lewinksy' - I saw an opportunity to be funny and come across as affable but the best line I could think up was 'Ah, so who's the President?'

I'm so unfunny. What kind of fucking one liner was that? The whole president/intern thing was already implied in the initial joke made by the other guys there. What was I adding by saying 'So, who's the president?' NOTHING. NO PENIS.

I'll say it again: VOMIT.

Neurosis

Everything is poo.

My thesis supervisor thinks I'm a lazy and moronic git. I didn't see him last week. When we meet, I pretend to understand what he's talking about when he explains something to me but do a really bad job at it. Two weeks ago he asked me if I understood what multiplexing was and I was going to say 'no' but something in his voice suggested to me that he was on the verge of pouring derision on me if I told him that I didn't understand. So, I pretended that I understood. And I sucked at it.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: NO PENIS. Utterly penisless. Not much going on in the penis department. Yadayadyadyadaydaydayd.

I submitted my first batch of reviews for Scene on Sunday. After sending them in, I felt good. I reread them that night and i'd inexplicably left out ENTIRE key words in some of the sentences in the reviews. I'm so stupid - nobody makes mistakes that dumb. For example I made a dumb analogy where I was meant to say 'it serves its purpose just like poor quality, but high caffeine, coffee does'. But there was a problem - I left one of the words out of the sentence. And this is after proof reading and editing 3 times over. And guess what word I left out?

'COFFEE.'

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? I go to all these lengths to establish this analogy between the CD and coffee and I FORGET TO PUT THE WORD COFFEE IN IT?!

I'll say it again: NO PENIS.

Urinal Talk with Myself

Koskov-Koskov: So, how's you're night been?

Yuri: Yeah not too bad mate.

Koskov-Koskov: Picked up any hot sluts?

Yuri: No.

Koskov-Koskov: You have a small penis

Yuri: So do you.

[station close]