Sigh...
And on this sad day, The Glorification Of Ian finally closes down as I transfer to Live Journal.
'tis a sad day.
11th October 2002
My Odd, But Pleasureable Dream Early This Morning
(cue swirly harp music)
The dream started with me and three other guys at one guy's house (I think his name was Luke- but it later changed to Michael. At any rate, he was cute). All our parents had got together for some kind of dinner party.
Anyway, there was all this sexual tension between me and Luke/Michael so we went into his darkened bedroom and promptly started having sex. Whilst he was sucking me off quite energetically, we were caughty by his dad who went back and reported to the assembled dinner party. They all took it surprisingly well.
Then I was at this cool party which had taken over an entire apartment. I think Luke/Michael (though I think he was Michael by this stage) was holding it as part of the end of Brisbane Festival celebrations. There were heaps of people there, including Stephen Leek, Anne, and even Uber-Dickhead Ebbott from school in a blue suit (who's the fag now ya big poof?). I had gone because I had a lot of unresolved sexual frustation with Luke/Michael. So I spent the party looking for him, and we sorta snogged on and off but I was still VERY FRUSTRATED. Part of this party was a show in a huge theatre which involved the cast of Sex and the City.
Somehow I was then employed in Dad's office but had skipped out of work with Anne, Gilson and Lynne from QPAC. So we trundled off to a M&M's bar (no, really). There were tables of M&M's and each table had a groovy host. Anyway, Anne and I were at one table with a perky blonde girl host and Gilson and Lynne off at another with a guy host. The girl got us to play some kind of game with the M&M's which had now evolved into Jelly Bellies. Basically we had to make things out of Jelly Bellies but weren't allowed to chew them or talk. I made a tree. But then Anne contested whether it was any good and M&M's flew.
Lynne then got vexed about getting back to the office on time. I got pleasureable feelings from saying "I guess I'm needed back at the office" several times loudly, and I felt very grown up and cool.
Then for some reason I was checking out real estate on a walking tour of Sydney's North Shore (does Sydney even have a north shore?). The views were uber pretty. Then I made coffee and got houseproud and started vacuuming.
The End.
8th October 2002
I'm thinking of crossing to the dark side and just doing the live journal thing. No one reads this crap anyway.
But my tripod journal shall never die!
7th October 2002
Mmmmmm... Nightline. And the soothing tones of Hugh Rimington. Who looks like an older Harry Potter.
Not to mention his smart collection of ties. Tonight it is blue and grey diagonally striped. I think he is my favourite newsreader, with his gently undulating tones which tell me "Don't you go worryin' bout nuffin'. All the bad stuff is a long long way away and doesn't concern us. Now to Sport."
And now I bring you a quote from Sarah-
...and I dont care cos she is a battery-less dildo with boiled bats testicles for a brain
Such eloquence... hmmmm why can't I left justify this properly? Bugger it. Teehee two guys robbed a Melbourne wine shop by putting up a handwritten sign saying the place was closed.
The Book of Guests 6th October 2002
Last night, I discovered my future lifestyle. Following the amazinly brilliant TQO concert, Gilson took me to a small birthday celebration in West End in possibly the funkiest house I've ever been in. It was a former (though now unrecognisable) workers cottage, all very airy and open and with heaps of heavy Asian furniture and thick rugs. The entire place was lit by candles in huge candlesticks and the three cats matched the upholstery. And then there was the stainless steel kitchen and the semi-built in black bookshelves. It was way cool.
I wanted it very, very much.
But perhaps the coolest feature was the huge (white, of course) bowl on the coffee table which was filled with purple freddo frogs. Which are very hard to get outside Ekka time.And then huge vertical 7-CD player.
It was the kind of house you just knew there were Peter Alexanders in the bedroom.
Soooo.... a brief outline of my future lifestyle plan
- spacious apartment in New Farm, somehow managing to overlook the Park, the River and within walking distance to the good restaurants near Gerties. Or possibly on Moray Tce, with river views. I'm yet to decide.
- a stainless steel kitchen where the cupboards open to reveal a nice selection of gourmet goods, fresh bread and booze. In the stainless steel dream fridge with ice maker are a few tubs of takeaway from the perfect Thai restaurant, just round the corner.
- lots of white and blonde woods. Comfy sofas.
- a selection of carefully decor-matched cats. This may cause problems as part of the perfect lifestyle is lots of travel. TBA.
- Bang & Olufsen sound system with paper thin speakers and a billion CD stacker.
- a selection of stainless steel kitchen accessories
- a few carefully chosen modern art pieces
- an expensive wardrobe of timeless clothes, as I am no slave to fashion.
- a bathroom with a view. I've had bathrooms with windows all my life and refuse to settle for a dingy internal bathroom
- Peter Alexander pyjamas with racing cars or soldiers on them.
- Expensive bed linen and shitloads of pillows.
- A series of funky ass dinner parties where we drink blue coloured cocktails and have perfect gourmet food on the balcony overlooking the river (and if I do the Moray Tce thing, the city skyline). Possibly some of my friends will have cute children who will frolic around my perfect apartment.
- And, finally, the perfect partner who possibly is an architect or works in stockbroking.
I give myself 10 years.
If you sign this guestbook, I will remember your loyalty and you can share in my perfect lifestyle gourmet dinners on the balcony! 
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla
4th October 2002
Guys suck copious ass. Am feeling particularly bitter as I have sent soooo many messages (in fact my free membership has a daily limit- and I hit that limit- how fucking depressing is that?) and hardly ANYONE responded. Which, apart from being cunty, is quite rude. They could at least give me a half-ass lie, or, better yet, a straight no.
So, to avoid these feelings of bitterness and shit self esteem in the future, I'm beginning a quest to become asexual. This has many benefits.
- I will no longer be required to waste my time forming pointless emotional attachments to other people, cake or otherwise. This will save me a lot of emotional angst as they invariably feel differently or promptly start dating my friends (I'm sorry, three times is more than coincidental).
- I will be able to reproduce asexually, and hence create myself. This has many, many benefits in itself. Firstly, I will be able to have as much sex as I want, and how I want it (in fact, if I'm having a particularly ambitious day I may reproduce myself several times and have a bit of group action happening). Secondly, I'm pretty confident I'll be able to get along with myself as I have done it pretty well for the last 19 years.
- I think it would be quite difficult for a relationship with myself to go astray. And being asexual, and my clones asexual, there would be no concept of cheating as no one else would interest them/me.
- I realise that by self reproducing I may create confusion and anger amongst my friends, but being asexual and not caring I couldn't give a toss.
- If after reproducing myself I change my mind, I can cash in on other people's twin/triplet/quads fantasy like there is no tomorrow.
I set myself a silly goal at the beginning of year to be in some sort of relationship by Butterfly... considering it's in two weeks and I'm still looking pretty single (to the extent that other guys can't even be fucked to say no anymore) I don't think it's gonna happen.
Have I mentioned I'm feeling somewhat bitter and stressed?
Cheers.
Guestbook, just sign it dammit
1st October 2002
GAH. It's freakin October already. 19 DAYS UNTIL BUTTERFLY. Shit wee poo bum fuck. We're building screens tomorrow which should be very amusing, as I am all thumbs in the construction department. This Butterfly Working Bee also involves me having to catch an 8:07am train which doesn't impress me much either.
Have had such a good compose tonight on my orchestral piece for the first day back next week... AND I now have ALL the Butterfly instrumentalists, something which was looking increasingly less likely recently.
Alex and Anne's Bonza Bash 2002
Last night saw, Chez Anne, the Bonza Bash to celebrate Anne's Empty Nest and Alex's Coming of Age Sorta. Much, much, much alcohol was consumed by all except me (damn antibiotics) leaving my memory crystral clear of the events of the evening.
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There was quite a bit of ballet mime going on.
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There was underwear swimming in Anne's freezing pool (don't people realise that it isn't flattering) which led to much frozen semi-nakedness.
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There was a surprising amount of food, and even more surprisingly it was actually eaten. Odd, I know.
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Anne's house, for the first time ever, was filled with strange straight men. Her mother would have had a fit had she known. It was extremely weird not to know everyone there. I still have no idea who half the people playing pool were.
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In celebration of Anne's Parties Past, there was a fourgy, then fivesome then sixsome and all the way up to ninesome on her bed. Granted, we remained clothed but there was some serious tickling abuse and hip thrusting going on. Naturally this led to...
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THE FOOT FETISHIST. One of the unknowns (he certainly wasn't one of MY friends) felt it appropriate behaviour, no matter how drunken, to rub young ladies' feet against his face and make little spit circles on the soles with his finger. Obviously, being kicked in the face by said ladies means "Give it to me, tiger" and his hands then headed much northward, where only close friends' hands should roam. The Party Was Repulsed.
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Making tea with Sarah at midnight, and hunting for sugar in Anne's kitchen, already covered with the effluent garbage of 30 drunken uni students.
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The endless fun of the fitballs, with Gherkin and Sarah and bruising. Those fitballs will bring endless joy and amusement to any occasion.
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The music battle between Friends Old and New, and the Old Friends Lounge, where New Friends dare not to roam.
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Strange drunken women falling all over me.
This whole 'going sober' thing is certainly interesting to see what people get up to in their drunken state.
Bonza Bash Photos Guestbook. Damien signed it and he's cool!  |
