tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-325247462012-02-17T15:46:39.513+11:00Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.comBlogger1471100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-12993680737020066802010-06-04T16:21:00.002+10:002010-06-04T16:21:58.749+10:00

For most of the past 2000 years the Jewish people have existed as a cultural entity, or a nation, without a state. However the atrocities of WW2 changed the ball game for them. In the Jewish mindset not having the apparatus of a state is what led to their wholesale slaughter, and the persecution that preceded it. If we are to look at international relations form a Constructivist angle, we

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-86033738628757709472010-03-05T22:59:00.001+11:002012-02-10T12:38:44.017+11:00

The FIA's decision not to allow Serbian outfit Stefan GP to race in this year's Formula 1 championship would not just be heartbreaking for Serbian racing fans, but also for the country's EU-enthusiasts as well. Despite the presence of many skilled Brazilians, the occasional Japanese driver and manufacturer and a lone Australian, Formula 1 is a European dominated sport. All of Formula 1's teams

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-48734706716154060932009-05-05T13:05:00.003+10:002010-03-12T11:46:15.376+11:00

It’s strange that you don’t have a smellFor if you’re real I cannot tellDespite the fact I feel your presenceIt clear to me you have no essenceThere’s nothing much a human knowsThat cannot be filtered through our noseAttraction, reaction and satisfactionIt all requires olfactory tractionTo feel, to love, to laugh and yellThese joys of life they need a smellSo for you your heart will always

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-22665483027882488702008-11-04T13:07:00.003+11:002012-02-11T09:39:25.351+11:00

I woke at 6:30am as usual. My internal alarm never fails. No matter what time I go to sleep, I always wake at 6:30am. This doesn't mean I arise at this time. Often I find myself drifting off back to sleep for another hour or so, but there's something within my psyche that requires that I be conscious at this hour of the day. As I gained my wits, I felt my left arm was wrapped around Sarah's

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-61393857229843022382008-07-22T20:16:00.004+10:002008-12-10T14:38:45.510+11:00

Before the inevitable cocktail of smack, crack and old age kicked in, Brett Anderson was a lyrical genius. Now before you all choke on your Pitchfork Media bookmarks, just hear me out.Whilst the less self-conscious amongst the music intelligentsia will be willing to admit that the band's self-titled debut and its follow up, Dog Man Star are great albums, the general consensus is that Suede's

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-79724823700870345742008-07-02T00:07:00.004+10:002008-07-02T11:01:03.363+10:00

A trip to the psychologist.Doctor Veronica Clarke: Hello, Grant. How are you?Grant Wyeth: I'm feeling great, Doctor Clarke! I met a girl!DVC: That's excellent. What's her name?GW: I don't know yet.DVC: You don't know?GW: Well, I haven't actually spoken to her.DVC: But you said you'd met her?GW: I know where she works.DVC: OK.GW: Borders, in the city. I go in there every few days just to see

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-58201779179567363982008-06-19T11:15:00.005+10:002008-06-25T14:45:37.907+10:00

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This isn't how I envisaged it. I was meant to be the campus hero. The cool and interesting mature-aged student, worldly and hip, everyone should have wanted to be my friend. But it's been two semesters now and there is still no-one I have an significant relationship with, in fact, there's no-one I really talk to at all. When not in classes or lectures I sit in

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-61060720746865189242008-05-31T16:05:00.020+10:002010-03-07T11:18:50.046+11:00

Simple is the brand I use for most of my feminine hygiene purposes. I started using Simple back in the day, at the time my skin wasn't so flash. Not that it was really fucked up or anything, but I had a few blemishes. The main problem was that as I felt it was absolutely essential to shave daily I would inevitably shave over these blemishes constantly preventing them from having sufficient time

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-39324224397827576612008-05-23T10:57:00.007+10:002008-05-23T17:30:05.548+10:00

I Will Truck by the Dirty Projectors is without a doubt (or hyperbole) the most extraordinary sounding song ever written in the entire universe. It is taken from the album The Getty Address, where main-man David Longstreth sings from the perspective of The Eagles' Don Henley as a Spanish conquistador going in search of the shape of love. It also has some shit about 9/11 in there, but, you know,

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-39210559151124741032008-05-05T22:11:00.010+10:002008-05-23T10:57:19.459+10:00

Katy Stevens just got back from a trip to Japan. By all accounts it was a pleasant and enjoyable adventure. Having reasonably good relations with her I was fortunate enough to be presented with a gift upon her return to Melbourne. The gift was a cute little red fish bag, something she knew I would find appealing. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and generosity. However, upon opening up the

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-44485396219635117122008-05-03T15:33:00.010+10:002012-02-10T12:45:38.200+11:00

It's always struck me as odd how girls can be attracted to men. I mean surely girls realise that's their bodies are much nicer than mens'? I'm not just talking vaginas vs doodles here, or the obvious appeal of boobies, I'm mostly talking about skin. Girls have lovely soft and smooth skin, men have hard and rough skin. Surely everyone agrees that the former is more appealing? This has always

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-23374626912499925122008-04-25T14:50:00.006+10:002008-12-10T14:38:47.392+11:00

They call you, dear Sourav, the Prince of CalcuttaBut it's not because you send young girls' hearts a-flutterIt is because your batting has such style and graceand let's not forget your handy medium paceYour scoring is due to impeccable timing, not powerAnd there's a notable resemblance to that ponce David GowerThere are many who believe that your prominence is oddYet Rahul Dravid claims your

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-70626757043748008282008-04-17T15:23:00.006+10:002008-04-18T20:48:38.197+10:00

Frederic was a bumblebeeThe sexiest bee that one ever did seeHe loved to produce his sweet sweet honeyBut he didn't just do it all for the moneyAlthough he got along well with all the other beesHe had a secret desire that was difficult to please.One day when collecting pollen on the far side of townHe noticed another young bee bending downHe thought to himself "damn that butt looks fine"And then

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-1501254939873077672008-04-09T08:27:00.011+10:002008-12-10T14:38:48.268+11:00

In the January of 2001 I moved to London in order to be united with my internet girlfriend. Unfortunately, two weeks before I arrived she informed me that she no longer wanted me to come. Having already paid for my tickets I decided to go anyway. No longer knowing anyone and without anywhere to stay I had to make do with a youth hostel near St. Pauls. However, the communal nature of the place was

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-72206942281975032052008-04-07T00:19:00.007+10:002008-04-07T19:06:48.491+10:00

Grant Wyeth: Hi, Doctor Veronica Clarke! How are you?Dr Veronica Clarke: Hello Grant. I'm fine thank you. How are you?GW: I'm great! I found a stone that looks like a love heart. I think it's a sign about the future!DVC: Why do you think that?GW: Well, I was sitting out in the backyard thinking about time travel. I no longer think it is possible for me to transfer my present day consciousness

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-20893324917504025742008-04-06T12:22:00.005+10:002008-12-10T14:38:49.985+11:00

I was sitting out in the backyard, contemplating these lives that we lead, when I found this stone in amongst the weeds. It looks like a love heart. I immediately realised that this was a significant find. There is definitely something special about finding a love heart shaped stone and so I made a pledge to myself. I would carry this stone in my pocket wherever I go. Then when I meet the girl

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-31852880321815705962008-04-05T16:19:00.005+11:002008-04-05T17:08:58.854+11:00

Dear Grant,Thank you for your message. It cheered me up! I've been working very hard to get my album released in the past few weeks and I have not had any time to experience anything lovely, however your message was the loveliest message I've received in a long time! I'm glad you found me again! Thank you for not giving up. I am very pleased that you like my songs enough to add them as your

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-54923635945503800332008-03-29T19:24:00.004+11:002008-03-31T09:25:51.696+11:00

Dear Action Biker,How are you?Several months ago I stumbled across your cover of Eating Noddemix by Young Marble Giants. I liked it a lot. In fact I liked it so much that I added it as my profile song on my Myspace page. However, a little while back I replaced it with (Lack of love) Will Tear Us Apart by The Honeydrips. That's a great song, isn't it? I think you used to be in a band with the guy

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-86747626172489444942008-03-26T10:31:00.005+11:002008-03-26T13:43:35.021+11:00

The following is a transcript of an imaginary follow up consultation with the psychiatrist Dr Veronica Clarke. She's yet to call me back, so it looks like I'm going to have to do this thing all by myself.Dr Veronica Clarke: Grant, come in! Nice to see you again. How are you feeling?Grant Wyeth: Oh, I'm alright, Doctor. At little tired to tell you the truth.DVC: Have you been busy?GW: Not really.

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-30284288719348089302008-03-24T13:30:00.007+11:002008-03-27T22:33:26.593+11:00

This morning I was in a pharmacy getting a prescription for what ails me when I spied a display of exotic and alluring soaps. There was all kinds of shit, mint and lavender, frangipani and chocolate, a wide variety of luxurious and appealing combinations. Whilst I was both looking at and smelling these seductive soaps I thought to myself "I wonder if I had a girlfriend would she like one of these

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-40376617131216854332008-03-19T08:32:00.007+11:002008-12-10T14:38:51.320+11:00

This is my favourite fork. I use it for every meal I eat at home. Even if it has been used previously I will clean it so I am able to use it. The blue handle has excellent grip and manoeuvrability allowing me to efficiently shovel food from the plate or bowl into my mouth with great speed and accuracy. If I am eating away from home I find that my ability to deposit foodstuffs in my my eating hole

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-69052443968285786242008-03-14T16:57:00.011+11:002008-03-18T16:56:42.168+11:00

In the past few weeks two people have told me stories which involved them taking a shower with their respective partners. Whilst not to dismiss these people's stories, it was the concept rather than the content that fascinated me. To be honest, I have never thought about having a shower with someone else. I guess my brain must have thought that it would be so completely illegal as to have never

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-61657687771724059082008-03-14T14:04:00.004+11:002008-03-14T15:55:05.051+11:00

After hearing the weather report on Wednesday evening and resigning myself to the fact that it was going to be ridiculously hot, I took two bottles filled with water and placed them in the freezer. The plan was for them to freeze during the night and then gradual melt during the following day, giving me a handy supply of cold water to replenish myself as I walked around the university campus from

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-51429339374077439062008-03-12T21:33:00.010+11:002008-03-15T13:27:00.513+11:00

A few months ago my doctor suggested to me that it might be wise if I sort some professional psychiatric advice. She thought I was fucking insane. She gave me the number of one Dr Veronica Clarke, a psychiatrist she thought may be of some assistance in obtaining some sort of normalcy for me. Although I considered calling Dr Veronica Clarke several times over the past few months, I didn't actually

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-55703254588146882622008-03-11T16:21:00.005+11:002008-03-11T18:23:10.281+11:00

Dear Internet,How are you?You sure have come a long way, haven't you? Did you ever expect to get so big? I mean, there's a lot of people in this world who wouldn't be able to survive without you. You've changed the way people live. Surely you wouldn't have had such high expectations for yourself? Me, on the other hand, I'm the opposite to you. I was going to make something of myself. I was going

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-33521738056437845222008-03-04T13:09:00.008+11:002008-03-13T21:35:20.705+11:00

I met Lisa at a Belle & Sebastian concert at the Brixton Academy in the July of 2002. She approached me and informed me that although she hated my shoes, she liked my khaki messenger bag and had an overwhelming urge to make me butternut squash soup. This was reasonable enough, I thought, and continued to converse with her throughout the evening. Lisa was suspicious of mobiles at the time, so I

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-88764246521191652492008-02-28T11:17:00.005+11:002008-02-29T08:34:37.824+11:00

Afreen, Afreen, you were in my dreamYou were standing behind the checkout, a sight to be seenYour wavy hair was down past your shouldersand for me, you said, you would move bouldersYou scanned my purchases with such a flairthat to you my soul I felt compelled to bare.Afreen, Afreen, I think it's a signI think that Vishnu wants you to be mineHe's seen the way we converse with easeand he knows I'm

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-56199398441013834862008-02-26T11:21:00.006+11:002008-02-26T13:07:38.350+11:00

The best way to revitalise oneself is to eat right. In the past I've been known not to eat so flash. I was into the junk foods. It wasn't cool. I'd eat chocolate creams, sweet and sour sugar balls, icing coated doughnuts, crispy fried chicken tips, you name it I put it in my mouth and swallowed. But this is all about to change, because I'm going to make myself strong. I'm going to eat my fruits

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-88279973037588743092008-02-25T15:41:00.007+11:002008-02-25T21:00:30.367+11:00

I've been trying to make some changes this year, realign my outlook, get my head space tidy, health myself up a bit. But I've had a few stumbles along the the way. It's mainly been my fetish for the erotic delights of the airline hostess that has been my undoing. I've managed to make it all the way with two of them this year, but both sexual relationships have unfortunately been fleeting, ending

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-83917876838447451282008-02-20T13:50:00.004+11:002008-02-20T16:46:35.219+11:00

The following conversation took place in Kathmandu airport between myself, Grant Wyeth, and the Yeti Airlines hostess I met on a flight to Meguali. The two of us were waiting in the departure lounge preparing to make our way to Melbourne to start our new life together.Grant Wyeth:This is exciting, isn't it? It's going to be awesome! Yeti Airlines Hostess: Yeah, I guess so.GW: You don't sound too

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-79160783180348092192008-02-15T23:00:00.006+11:002008-12-10T14:38:53.189+11:00

Although Kathmandu is held by the Nepalese military, it is not hard to notice the significant amount of Maoist graffiti and propaganda that is on display around the city. It seems that even with the current cease-fire the Maoists aren't sitting idle, as elections approach they are hoping that their agitation in the capital will win them enough votes to take power without the use of force.Down in

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-68580913765364944162008-02-15T02:05:00.005+11:002008-12-10T14:38:53.382+11:00

The Yeti Airways flight from Kathmandu to the small town of Meguali in southern Nepal was not where I expected to find love. But as they say, these things happen when you least expect it. As soon as we saw each other we knew. The smile she gave me was different to the ones she gave the other passengers. It was in her eyes. This smile wasn't just her standard "I've seen a million of you arsehole

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-38768928099593657412008-02-14T22:33:00.024+11:002008-12-10T14:38:54.532+11:00

Hi, I'm Grant Wyeth. You may remember me from such nature blogs as "Icebergs: Friend Or Foe?" and "Forests: Impeding Our Progress". I'm here in the Chitwan National Park in southern Nepal and I'd like to tell you a bit about the animals that live here.This one here is an old standby. This one is called the monkey, sometimes also known as the monkey man. It is called this because it is shaped like

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-41208224684745021192008-02-08T21:52:00.002+11:002008-12-10T14:38:55.355+11:00

When I walk down the street in Kathmandu I see all the pretty young girls looking at me. I see them looking at me and I know what they are thinking. They're thinking "If I could have it off with that white boy, I could marry him and go live in the West". Now I'm not saying that I would do this, I mean, there's no guarantees in the world, but what I am saying is that these girls should at least

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-90274871017566584872008-01-30T18:21:00.000+11:002008-01-31T22:41:28.489+11:00

The late 90s weren't the most social years for me. I was an anxious, insecure, depressed agoraphobe. Aside from the first, and highly anticipated, tours to Australia of the Manic Street Preachers and Suede in January and October of 1999 respectfully, I very rarely left my bedroom. As human contact was a far too difficult occurrence for me I decided to interact socially the modern way; on the

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-37135904890382802652008-01-29T13:10:00.000+11:002008-01-31T13:35:58.727+11:00

I think Africa is calling me. I've never had a calling before. Well, if I have I've never listened. I have a raison d'être, but I believe there is a distinction between the two. To me, a calling concerns an aspect of life, it doesn't have a permanence, whereas a raison d'être is more of an over-arching theme of one's existence. Africa seems to be telling me something at the moment. It has

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-21551922279132942192008-01-28T19:53:00.000+11:002008-01-29T12:01:07.084+11:00

Ever since my early teens I have slept holding a pillow to my chest. No matter whether I am sleeping on my right side or left side I require a pillow. As a result I become quite attached to the pillows I have in my life. They could be perceived more like a security blanket. Instruments of comfort in an otherwise uncomfortable existence.There have been two pillows of note in my life most recently.

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-19925508452921410902008-01-27T12:28:00.001+11:002008-01-28T12:47:14.672+11:00

Hey B,Thought I'd write to congratulate you on your victory in South Carolina. I knew you could do it, man. I have so much faith in you. That bitch is going to fold soon enough. Fold like a beginner's origami class, ie: badly. You'll sweep Super-Duper Tuesday. I'm sure of it. Sweep it like a drive-way in Autumn. As I told you in Las Vegas I'll be on a flight to India when the results are coming

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-82489314208714801492008-01-26T21:05:00.000+11:002008-01-28T10:06:13.496+11:00

$25 is the most I would ever spend at a supermarket. Anything more than that seems excessive. Decadent even. Most of the time I struggle to get anywhere near $25. I walk the aisles, looking at items on the shelves, none of it seems much good. If I have to buy cleaning products or similar household items, then I might get up around $25. But most of the time I don't see how it is possible to spend

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-63351229908470150062008-01-25T00:08:00.001+11:002008-01-26T23:18:29.764+11:00

Jens called this morning. He said he's going to Europe on Sunday for a tour. He said that he'd be back for a couple of weeks in March before heading off to the States. He suggested we hook up in March to flesh out some ideas for our new musical project. He's quite excited about the prospect, thinks that we'll be able to create something unique and interesting together. I'm excited as well, I

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-79935175267134753482008-01-24T16:09:00.000+11:002008-12-10T14:38:55.764+11:00

I used to like flying. Singapore Airlines was my carrier of choice. The hostesses were always so lovely and beautiful. Whenever I flew I would become enamoured. From a young age I would fantasise about having it off with one of them. A real sexy adult relationship. Then one day several months ago my fantasy became reality. I met a Singapore Airlines hostess on a tram in Melbourne. She was 36

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-43655038833391586942008-01-21T16:17:00.000+11:002008-01-23T08:57:05.799+11:00

Last night (Saturday, Pacific Standard Time) after the results came in, I found Barack in the bar at the Las Vegas Tropicana, the hotel where we were both staying. He saw me enter and signaled to the barkeep for two more vodka and lemonades. He was on his third already. He smiled as I sat down next to him...Barack Obama: At least I shat all over Edwards.Grant Wyeth: Nevada was always going to be

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-71935402536137770822008-01-19T09:04:00.000+11:002008-01-20T22:35:15.144+11:00

Yesterday began like a any other day for me. My alarm went off at 7.30am and I lay in bed listening to AM on Radio National. Although Parliament isn't sitting and Labor's honeymoon period doesn't make for a lot of intrigue in Australian politics at present, there are still a number of world issues that I find it important to keep abreast of. Upon rising I took a refreshing shower, making sure to

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-53583187976249647672008-01-18T10:38:00.000+11:002008-01-19T12:08:01.533+11:00

Several weeks ago I had a massage. The stresses and strains of my life had placed a heavy burden on my neck and shoulders, so much so that they required the hands of a professional masseuse to kneed them into a more relaxed state. This was before I began my physical relationship with the 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess, and so I also used the massage as an opportunity to gain some much

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-24448486011501714232008-01-17T11:47:00.002+11:002008-12-10T14:38:56.150+11:00

I shop at Safeway. I find the name reassuring. I have no idea what Coles is trying to say to their customers, there's nothing about their business name that makes me feel secure in my purchases. I would never shop at an IGA either. IGA could be an acronym for terrorist organisation for all I know. I don't want the direct consequences of my grocery purchases being an exploded bus on a busy Tel

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-52205739136545484642008-01-16T00:22:00.000+11:002008-01-17T14:47:05.253+11:00

Last night I went to see a film with Cath Da Costa, an older woman I can rely on. It was Super Tuesday (or, Two-up Tuesday, as I like to call it) at the Hoyts Cinema at Victoria Gardens. On these Super-Tuesdays an adult ticket sells for the price of $9.50, making it a relatively cheap night out. The film we went to see was American Gangster, a film about the violent, yet immensely profitable,

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-47101552800824927842008-01-15T09:25:00.000+11:002008-01-17T20:42:33.911+11:00

In December of last year Blair asked me whether I had heard of a band called The Dirty Projectors. I informed him that I'd heard the name, but as I considered it a "hipster band name" I was strongly opposed to investigating them further. The subject was promptly dropped. On the evening of the 23rd of December (two days before Christmas) at the Old Bar on Johnston Street Blair informed me that he

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-30904800514155914842008-01-14T10:19:00.001+11:002008-01-15T12:54:57.348+11:00

The US Government knows things that they are not telling us. I know there's a lot of nutjob conspiracy theorists who claim this all the time, but I think I have some pretty solid evidence that this statement is far from false. Last night I had a dream. In the dream I was watching a renegade documentary on the AIDS virus. In the documentary they claimed that the US Government has attempted to wipe

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-38312996857686997882008-01-12T17:54:00.000+11:002008-01-13T20:32:04.526+11:00

The following brief but frank exchange took place last night between myself, Grant Wyeth, and the 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess I've been engaged in a sexual relationship with these past few months. She had just returned from being away with her job for twelve days. I discovered during this time that she has been having a sexual affair with one of those pilots she works with.[The front

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-33412132528698300662008-01-11T11:13:00.001+11:002008-12-10T14:38:56.685+11:00

With my 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess lover away with her job my nights can get pretty lonely. Lately these nights have gotten even lonelier after I discovered that she is having an affair with one of the pilots she works with. What I thought was the perfect relationship has deteriorated into a mess of lies, deceit and the foul stench of another man's aftershave. You can imagine the hurt

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-48265929621516383342008-01-10T08:33:00.001+11:002008-01-16T00:19:24.184+11:00

The hardest part of my relationship with this 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess is her work commitments. Last night she left on circuit that will take her to London, across the Atlantic to New York, to Tokyo via LA and back through Singapore. She'll be away twelve days in all. I will miss her terribly. While modern technology may keep us in frequent contact when she is away working, I still

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-33932122084985912842008-01-09T15:25:00.000+11:002008-01-15T20:53:04.704+11:00

My 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess is a worldly and educated woman. Coming from a country such as Singapore, with its ménage of cultures both Eastern and Western, she has already been gifted a rare insight into broad kaleidoscope that is human culture. However, being born into a cultural hot-pot is not merely enough for her, she recognises that the world is a veritable smörgåsbord of

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-82736495336333562202008-01-08T12:51:00.001+11:002008-12-10T14:38:57.235+11:00

I've been thinking quite a bit about this 36 year-old Singapore Airlines hostess I will be entering into a sexual relationship with. I think I want more than just an intense love affair. I want to prove to her the wonderful man I know I can be. As well as servicing her sexual desires I want to support her emotionally. I want to support her emotionally, in her professional endeavours and in the

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-27499943926638647472008-01-07T11:40:00.000+11:002008-01-08T08:18:03.636+11:00

I think I'm going get involved in a sexual relationship with an older woman. I think this is a wonderful idea. It's time I grew up. I was on the 109 tram earlier today when I spied a very beautiful older lady. She was probably in her mid-30s, she was not overly made-up, but had a natural glamour; a stylist bob with luxurious skin. She reminded me of a Singapore Airlines hostess. Whenever I've

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-61607605562489766682008-01-03T08:15:00.000+11:002008-12-10T14:38:57.729+11:00

I have to admit I didn't plan on going to see The Pipettes last night. I'd lost interest in them the last few months, and I was also a little sceptical about whether they would put on a good show. Furthermore, I didn't want to go by myself. However, at the last minute I decided to stop being so sooky and get out of the house and do something. To add to this I thought it was important to take a

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-19997301988336186872007-12-24T16:09:00.001+11:002008-12-10T14:38:59.866+11:00

Without any fanfare or explanatory introduction here are my favourite album of the year 2007:10. Spiderman Of The Rings - Dan Deacon This is what happens when you let a kid with ADD loose in an electronics shop. Frequent exposure may cause one to want to rip one's ears off, however in small doses the sheer joyousness of this record can send one into a goofy-grinned whole-body spazz-out. If Wham

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-35518160390599366002007-12-12T13:16:00.000+11:002007-12-12T15:39:53.573+11:00

The following is the script from a short one man play performed in the lounge-room at Cole Street on the evening of the 11th of December. The play concerns a young reporter by the name of Grant Wyeth who is allowed an exclusive interview with the President of the United States of America, George W Bush. Both characters were performed by Grant Wyeth in real time.Grant Wyeth: Mr President, thank

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-4601884407885530752007-11-01T12:42:00.000+11:002007-11-05T12:07:14.176+11:00

When the mood strikes me I have no qualms with declaring La Casa Azul the greatest band on this, or any other, planet. Right now I am so confident with this claim that not even the fact they aren't actually a band isn't enough to persuade me otherwise. You see, in a move that might be render all you grunge-daddies and burnt Milli Vanilli fans out there aghast, the members of La Casa Azul, as they

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-58935454093189339322007-10-17T17:42:00.000+10:002007-12-10T15:22:11.449+11:00

To whom it may concern,Today I needed to get to LaTrobe University by 5pm. To do so I would catch the 246 bus route. I arrived at the bus stop on the corner of Hoddle Street and Victoria Parade at 3.32pm. This would usually give me ample time to reach LaTrobe by 5pm, however not today. I know it was exactly 3.32pm because I looked at my clock and then looked at the timetable. As the timetable

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-29439738849983560192007-10-14T21:12:00.000+10:002007-10-24T20:28:55.750+10:00

Now it might be somewhat hypocritical for me to label anyone an elitist, I mean, I refuse to even have sex because "everyone does it", but there's a group of old school Bust readers who feel that Sleater-Kinney "lost it" with the release of the album All Hands On The Bad One. Now I could be pissing on my own chips here because if I was to have sex it would have to be with a Bust reader, but these

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-65296665771046697932007-10-12T09:53:00.000+10:002007-10-14T17:30:11.696+10:00

When Matthew and Eleanor Friedberger, aka The Fiery Furnaces, get things right it is difficult to dispute they are brilliant beyond analogy. Whilst their music can often find them squeezing anything from prog to free jazz to electronic experimentation into extremely listenable pop songs, their lyrics can tread similarly obscurist territory, like fighting pirates on a ship transporting blueberries

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-40214840549144639122007-10-04T10:08:00.000+10:002007-10-04T21:41:57.296+10:00

Kevin Andrews. What an arsehole. Serously. When it comes to ministerial incompetence, Andrews not only takes the cake, but he swallows that motherfucker whole.Andrews, the Australian Immigration minister, is cutting the percentage of Africans from Australia's refugee quota from 50% to 30%, having already cut it back from 70%. Initially he claimed this was because the conflict in the Darfur region

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-45534164590112580182007-10-03T14:26:00.000+10:002007-10-08T20:07:53.971+10:00

99% of love songs are rubbish. They're either too over-wrought rendering them creepy, or just a pile of clichéd tripe. Or both. Generally both. However, when Kevin Barnes writes a love song you know it's going to be awesome. He's the type of guy who can make a mundane task like cooking toast seem like the coolest thing in the world. Tucked away on the bonus disc that came with the Of Montreal

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-58807570942366012042007-10-01T00:03:00.000+10:002007-10-08T20:08:14.700+10:00

After years of avoiding saying anything to anyone as part of media-shy Montreal-based warehouse-dwelling doom-laden orchestral post-rock mystic-niks, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, on the second album of his side project, A Silver Mt. Zion, Efrim Menuck finally had something to say. And this was it: "Sisters and brothers, we have surely lost our way." Dang. But that wasn't just it. There was more

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-66991488565860301352007-09-30T13:48:00.000+10:002007-09-30T22:58:13.502+10:00

Dinosaur Jr, Sebadoh, Lou Barlow's apparent lo-fi revolution. These things (and more) I don't give a fuck about. Barlow may be an influential figure in the musical worlds of many, but to me, looking back, 90s indie-rock is nothing but a bland ghetto of Kurt-damaged arseholes afraid of the future (obviously Barlow preceded Cobain, but "Kurt-damaged" is my current favourite accusation and I just

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-39817389510135673762007-09-29T11:08:00.000+10:002007-10-12T20:35:49.928+10:00

In his tribute to Luke Haines - 63 Ways To Begin An Essay On Luke Haines - Paul Morely writes for his 25th introduction:Luke Haines's Englishness is so desolte and inhospitable that even the English are scandalised by it. Throughout his career with The Auteurs, his one-off Baader-Meinhof concept album and his increasingly absurd solo material ("a Vaudeville spook mentalist", in his own words),

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-72351096087718164592007-09-28T00:25:00.000+10:002007-09-28T07:38:08.931+10:00

With its plucked guitar and opening three words - You're so sensitive - Why?'s Early Whitney could almost be mistaken for a Death Cab For Cutie power ballad. However, whereas DCFC beefcake Ben Gibbard would then, in his earnest whimsy, declare his devotion to his muse's emotional sensitivity, Joni Wolf continues ...you can feel a single hair curl while you're sleeping, and each fraction of a

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-19763800258832897762007-09-27T20:20:00.000+10:002007-09-29T15:20:45.446+10:00

There are three musical instruments I have no tolerance for. They are the bongos, the harmonica and the lap-steel guitar. I can't stand hippies, I hate male singer/songwriters and all music made outside large cosmopolitan cities (that is, country music) is completely regressive.In light of these three facts I have a very uneasy relationship with the first single from Stereolab's 2001 album Sound

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-16195802599068256432007-08-23T21:53:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:00.224+11:00

Oh Kevin, this bond we have just keeps getting stronger. Every move you make seems to confirm just how much we have in common. To be honest with you, Kevin, I have been trying to distance myself from you of late. The past few weeks I've been ignoring you, attempting to focus my attention of the new man-crush in my life, Spencer Krug. But now I know our affinity runs a lot deeper. I understand,

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-38444718419806808322007-08-22T21:08:00.000+10:002007-08-23T12:47:15.410+10:00

Several weeks ago I became somewhat obsessed with both a song, and by extension, the artist responsible for the song. Now usually I am one of these annoying types that when I find something I am enthusiastic about I need to enthuse loudly to whomever is willing to be subjected to it. However, as the song in question was number 1 in the UK charts at the time I felt then need to restrain my

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-16434045402732779842007-08-14T00:06:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:00.359+11:00

People get it wrong. People get it wrong all the time. I don't how they do it, but they do it with such frequency that sometimes it becomes a little too much to bear.The lastest person to get it wrong is David Raposa from the Pitchfork Media [dot com]. Being a new kid on the Pitchfork block I was going to cut him some slack, however when you are writing for such a reputable publication there

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-87473980765731882292007-08-11T17:19:00.000+10:002007-08-17T16:39:05.158+10:00

It's my face I have the most problem with. If it wasn't for my face I think I'd be a lot more constructive. Hey, of course we all have our little blemishes, but my problems cut a little deeper.When I was about 15 I split my lip quite badly. As a result I had to change the way smiled to prevent ripping the wound open further. I had to tuck my top lip underneath itself to the point where only a

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-67217046106741979072007-08-05T18:38:00.000+10:002007-08-08T11:47:56.968+10:00

The past week or so I have been seeing quite a few films as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival (MIFF). I guess I've always seen myself as a fairly cultured person, yet I'm someone who has kept a distance from, what I can best describe as, the culture of culture. In the past I've been very careful with my associations, my demeanour is one of inherent suspicion. However, as part of

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-88366405637640917542007-07-30T00:30:00.000+10:002007-07-31T20:40:29.227+10:00

I think it's fair to say that up until last week I have been completely embarrassed about my existence. Restraint has been my raison d'être. While most people make "to do" lists, I make "don't" lists. You name it, at some stage in my life, I have avoided it. I guess you could say I've lived an active passivity. The most obvious display of this has been with my attitude to the opposite sex. My

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-32170349881729497132007-07-18T01:45:00.000+10:002007-07-18T14:39:51.550+10:00

Back around mid-2002 Lisa and I jumped a train down to Brighton for the launch of the second issue of the hip music publication Careless Talk Costs Lives. The magazine was the baby of former Melody Maker renegade Everett True. True's idea was to publish 12 issues, counting down from 12 to 1, by which time the quality of the journalism expressed within the magazine will have destroyed, through

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-25883059466996614792007-07-10T00:07:00.000+10:002007-07-10T14:24:11.656+10:00

Yesterday I saw the film Into Great Silence - a documentary on a French Carthusian monastery. In my younger years, I had what could best be described as monastic fantasies. This doesn't mean that I was into monk sex, rather that I was seduced by many aspects of monasticism, particularly the Medieval eremitic variety. Whilst my contemporaries were boozing up and whoring around, I was dreaming of

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-79839817563765151122007-06-24T00:17:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:00.552+11:00

Yesterday whilst exploring the Williamstown area, I decided to kill two birds with one stone and also continue my search for the perfect chip. Without delving too deeply into my life's loves, it's fair to say that chips hold a special place within my heart. There are some hungers that can only be satiated with a pile of chips. Forget the pyramids, forgot the man on the moon, chips are humanity's

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-59735887403154894092007-06-23T21:08:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:01.277+11:00

Weekends are for exploring. Whenever I have some spare time on a weekend I like to choose a part of Melbourne I'm unfamiliar with and see what I can find. Obviously, public transport is the best way of making the trip. Public transport routes are the veins of a city. Its elemental components will always be found along (and on) them. Aside from this, an intimate knowledge of a city's public

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-60028867858551439622007-06-21T14:01:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:01.755+11:00

Reader's Feast is my favourite Melbourne bookstore. It may not have the cred of Brunswick Street Bookstore, or that little nook up the top of Bourke Street that I've forgotten the name of, or any other independent bookstore for that matter. But what it does have is a members' card that totals up your purchases every six months and gives you a gift voucher to the value of 10% of what you spent

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-62961297553016382302007-06-21T11:17:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:02.563+11:00

Because of chips, potato is pretty hard to beat when it comes to judging which is the best vegetable. However, pumpkin comes pretty close. Roast it, fry it, throw it in a curry, do what you will with it, it is amazing. Near Justine's shop, Monk House Design, on Lygon St. up in East Brunswick there is a pâtisserie that makes pumpkin and cumin pasties. It was several weeks ago that Justine informed

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-43746862942991451982007-06-19T13:45:00.000+10:002007-07-29T10:45:33.698+10:00

I do a lot of public transport. My trusty iPod is my sole companion, and while I tend to partake in a fair amount of shuffling of feet and mouthing of words, I long to express myself in a more uninhibited way. When I was in New York I purchased a dual headphone adapter. Kate Shum and I were attempting to organise to be on the same flight back to Melbourne from LA. I thought with this double

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-82574041872434247412007-06-17T14:55:00.000+10:002007-07-10T09:52:22.768+10:00

Dear Kevin,How are you? I must say I really enjoy your music. If you check out my last.fm page you'll see that I listened to you quite a lot this week. It's been one of those weeks where an album like Hissing Fauna... has felt appropriate. You know, you get burdened with these thoughts, your shoulders ache from the weight of your life, and sometimes the only response is to just explode like a

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-85708127509740116822007-05-26T14:06:00.000+10:002007-06-04T23:35:59.151+10:00

When leading a life of solitude it is essential to find new and interesting ways to keep oneself amused. Currently my favourite game involves setting iTunes to random and, whilst keeping my eyes firmly shut, pressing the skip button and attempting to call out the name of the artist and the title of the song within the shortest period of time possible. I'd say I'm on an 80% success rate at the

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-20899669107799689452007-05-24T13:33:00.000+10:002007-05-24T20:44:31.728+10:00

I'm thinking I'll just take the blog back to rambling about everyday crap that happens to me. Recently I've been far too interested in writing highly polished and clever pieces in an attempt to try and impress people who have no interest in being impressed with me. Everyone has a blog these days, Grant. People both in power and otherwise will not find it extraordinary. Remember at the Love Is All

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-83331332613562553912007-05-08T09:17:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:03.439+11:00

Around mid-2005 I ordered the then current Why? EP - Sanddollars - direct from the Anticon website. Patience is one virtue I am lacking, and so to wait for the EP to eventually find its way to Australia would have been far too painful for me. At 8 tracks long, I guess you could say it was more of a mini-album than an EP. It was vastly superior to the album, Elephant Eyelash, that followed it, but

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-206181476671017892007-04-24T12:15:00.000+10:002007-04-27T09:26:40.164+10:00

For as long as I can remember I've had a sore neck and shoulders. I think it's something to do with the way I sleep. My neck is so out of whack that I can touch my head on my right shoulder, but I cannot do likewise on my left. However, I've always just put this down to being another one of God's little obstacles for me. I've never sought of rectify the situation, I'm not really one for taking

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-83201279740700152602007-04-12T17:16:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:03.793+11:00

My hair is a constant source of frustration for me. The hair is pretty much like moss. It just sits there. If I do grow it to a certain length the wind is able to blow through it, however the hair stays where the wind left it, it requires a shower to flatten it again. Further to this, the look of my face is completely dictated by the look of my hair. If I am having a bad hair day (which is

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-65250387332706794242007-04-10T16:05:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:04.816+11:00

Since returning to the country in December I've been living in various places; initially staying with Amy, then on the floor of an uninhabited flat in Carlton and forced to my parents place in the outer eastern suburbs. However, now I am living in a houseshare in Richmond. I've actually been here over a month now and I'm living with two lovely ladies called Amber and Cathy (hi girls!).Until now

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-79768720383869608402007-04-09T11:08:00.000+10:002008-12-10T14:39:05.201+11:00

Physical activity is not something I find myself involved in very often. In fact it would be approaching 10 years since I would have played any sort of sporting game. Just last Thursday I was telling a young lady in the bar Prudence that I don't do anything that involves taking my jeans off. Cricket, however, is a sport that one can play fairly well whilst wearing jeans, so when my friend Dan

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-18055741620472193682007-04-07T12:43:00.000+10:002007-04-10T14:56:16.260+10:00

Someone once said humans are habitual animals. There's something so pathetically trite about this statement that I'm sure a lot of people have said it. I don't really care who said it, or how many times it's been said, I'm just trying to illustrate a point.I bite my nails. I always have and it would be a reasonable prediction to state that I always will. I also spend the majority of my time in my

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-16726928128165341352007-03-24T12:48:00.000+11:002007-03-27T18:15:10.742+10:00

Det är jätte bra, c'est trés fantastique and it's fucking incredible!Finally someone in the public sphere has said something both sensibleand important in regards to language in this country. In today's Australian, Judith Wheeldon has written an article the on cultural and economic importance of developing a language education policy in this country. According to latest statistics (umm..Wikipedia

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-13198344217150104402007-03-14T10:39:00.000+11:002008-12-10T14:39:05.438+11:00

What’s the deal with chocolate bars in Australia? Isn’t there anyone else out there a little concerned that we are paying up to $2 for the sensual delights of a Cadbury Whip? $2.20 if we go to a 7 Eleven! In the UK you’ll pay on average 40p for a chocolate bar, this converts to around $1.00 - $1.10, but in relative terms is really only 80 cents. As someone who tends to enjoy the occasional (read:

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-81642008910967209162007-03-01T21:09:00.000+11:002008-12-10T14:39:06.252+11:00

It's not often that the major social event of any given week takes place on a Wednesday. Being opposed to social events in general, for me, it's not often that they take place at all. Yet, when feel-good Swedish punks the Love Is All come to town it's hard to resist not throwing on your sexiest outfit and set about painting the town spectacular! But for many days before the show, resist is what I

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-58679413455300896762007-02-25T12:48:00.000+11:002008-12-10T14:39:06.847+11:00

It is a rare day that I do not consult Wikipedia for something. Today, in order to try and explain my recent social behaviour I needed to investigate phobias. Luckily for me Wikipedia has a list of phobias covering everything from Coulrophobia — fear of clowns, to Lorelai Gilmore's Arachnophobiaphobia — the fear of people who are afraid of spiders. Unluckily for me, however, there doesn't seem to

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-39087075226110544882007-02-20T00:00:00.000+11:002007-02-20T22:45:53.588+11:00

It's often lamented that people don't write letters anymore. Some say it has become a lost art. Yet when Mohammed Bouyeri wanted to send an important message to Dutch MP Ayaan Hirsi Ali he went to great lengths to ensure she got it. Fearing the Dutch postal service may not be efficient as it could be, he decided the most effective form of delivery would be to stake the letter to the corpse of

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-28910052371623499142007-01-28T22:13:00.000+11:002007-01-30T07:43:45.661+11:00

The last haircut I had was early August in London. As part of what was meant to be somewhat of a renewal for me, I decided to do something I'd never done before - I went to a "stylist". I was hoping that a new styled haircut would be a factor in not only giving me a boost of confidence in my new life overseas, but also help me to finally attract a mate. Back in 2001 I was working for Enron India

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-64022799523157847142007-01-18T11:25:00.001+11:002007-01-19T08:21:48.104+11:00

I make no secret of the fact that I detest summer. My Celtic complexion burns with the slightest exposure to the sun and my ability to sleep in temperatures over 18 degrees is non-existent. So when summer hits, I disappear. You won't find me at the beach in a speedo, nor will you find me roller-blading along Beaconsfield Parade in bike shorts. All summer long I will be inside, preferably in front

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-72716879712513606282007-01-07T12:09:00.000+11:002007-01-10T16:53:15.827+11:00

Saturday's Australian contained an interesting opinion piece by Christopher Pearson titled Rudd Needs To Learn That Real Christians Are Cultural Conservatives. In a previous post on this very blog I claimed the opposite, so I was very intrigued to read Pearson's article.For those who don't know, Christopher Pearson is, somewhat amusingly, both openly gay and vocally anti-gay. He believes he is

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-69331457054464789242007-01-05T11:34:00.001+11:002007-01-16T12:07:12.167+11:00

Having returned to Melbourne and feeling compelled to embrace the city, I thought, what better way than to become intimate with its most iconic form of transport, the tram? I could periodically take various routes and document sights and the adventures I would have. This would not only lead to a broad discovery of the city, but also act as a precursor to my desire to write a book on the London

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32524746.post-30946506308983762412006-12-27T15:13:00.000+11:002007-01-03T14:42:31.207+11:00

Back in October I was reading Saturday's Globe and Mail in Montreal, and in the Arts section I chanced upon a book review that would have made me fall off my chair if I wasn't sitting cross-legged on my bed, or shot liquid out my nostrils if I happened to be sucking on a beverage. One topic I seem to have an insatiable appetite for is language history. I own at least 5 biographies of English, and

Granthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11328212442711913741noreply@blogger.com0