Turning Lamebos Into Rainbows

Rambling Goat and Nonsense Unicorn present… The Awesome Person's Guide to Life


8 Comments

Forever Young

I received a text last night about another friend expecting a baby. I think that now officially moves the ratio of my friends closer to the motherhood side and I am the outlier . Eww.


I am officially at that age where all my friends are getting married and having babies, and I’m just here roller skating, looking at BJD dolls and planning which gaming console I’m going to buy next.

I don’t care if I’m 30, im too damn young to be needing all of this adult bullshit.


When I received the text last night, instead of feeling happy for my friend I started to get that gut wrenching burn of anxiety inside my chest. I closed my eyes and tried not to panic about the perpetual paradox that I live in.

Why don’t I want the same things as everyone else? Am I unknowingly a sociopath or something?

I don’t want babies now, but I also don’t want to have babies when I’m older.

I don’t want to get married, but I don’t want babies out of wedlock.

All these thoughts, wishing I could just follow the status quo. But I don’t freaking want to.

And I know that blah blah when the time is right, but you can’t argue with biology. And what if I end up having wary menopause, or fertility problems, I’m already 7 years out of my breeding prime, am I really meant to be thinking of re-spawning now?

When do I draw the line and make the decision to take a leap into adulthood?

When do I have to grow up?


Nonsense Unicorn


3 Comments

ART WANK

I’ve always been of the somewhat opinion that contemporary art is a bunch of massive wank.  My appreciation always halted at Lichtenstein, or sometimes Warhol, but after that it’s always rather pissed me off than anything else.  Compared to the actual skill and talent of the classics, I have been all WTF is with painting a canvas black (I can do that), smack a $20,000 price tag on it and call it art because the art resides in what is not on the canvas. Piss off.

Anyway, this is all up until I visited MONA and ermagherd some artworks actually made me feel shit.  Quite a surprise. If you haven’t been, you totally need to go to Tasmania and check this out!  It’s pretty much a museum of art that’s the private collection of this gambling guru, so there’s a mix of old awesome stuff and weird ass contemporary shit (like literally a shit machine. Literally. It eats and poops. Art.)

So after my visit, there’s a few artists that I have been obsessing about since then.  I couldn’t be bothered to provide my review cos that’s not what I’m writing about.  If you like creepy Silent Hillesque shit, check out Patricia Piccinini or Berlinde De Bruyckere.  I’ve always been a bit of a morbid unicorn, there’s just a certain beauty in the seemingly twisted and grotesque artworks. I’m loving it.

One particular artist I’m obsessing about and have had epiphanies (well, not really, but felt something something) about life and all that kinda crap is Andres Serrano.  He’s a famous and hectic controversial photographer, where he’s used a lot of bodily fluids in photos (think Metallica Load and Reload album covers! That’s his blood and spooge!), as well as taken photos of the Klu Klux Klan and homeless people.  “Controversial”, but again there’s just a different perspective and beauty to his art where for the first time I actually appreciate a photographer, where most I’ve met are super duper wankers.

I’m not so much interested in all that work mentioned above, but he did a project called The Morgue Series (Cause of Death).  Pretty much he had access to a morgue and took photos of some dead people.  But seriously, it’s not as crass or horrible as it first sounds.  I’m not going to post any of the pictures here because everyone has difference experiences and thoughts and feelings on death, but I saw one of these photos at Mona and it just made me feel…..not numb. Even for a moment.

Click here if you want to see Blood Transfusion Resulting in AIDS by Andres Serrano, the picture that has made me think and feel and shit.  I’ve never really been scared of death, I’ve always felt a somewhat peaceful release associated with it, and this picture, as well as the others, still manages to capture the soul and life of going to the other side…

SO! Here’s where the lamebo part comes in.  I went to a friend’s party on the weekend and an old mate, who used to be legit cool and nice and down to earth back in school days, but now is a massive wanker photographer (who mainly takes hipster wedding photos and glamour shots of his girlfriend) sits down to have a chat.  He starts the usual mundane “what’s been happening, what you doing etc” conversation, but me being adverse to that boring bullcrap small talk, bring up Andres Serrano.

“OMG ArtWank, you know Andres Serrano right?  He’s super famous, if you haven’t you really need to check his shit out as a photographer.  He takes photos of spooge and dead people, but man there’s a strange magic to what he does.  Look him up!”

He googles the name, sees the picture of Piss Christ, looks at me weird, and then totally does the “uhh… I have to go over here now”.

What. A. Wanker.  Like, okay so you don’t have to like it, but I always feel that, particularly in the art world, you should always be open and perhaps know your art?  Know your competition?  Be aware of other modes of creation, instead of living in your own bubble of what you do?  And moreover, screw you for being a wanker!  You used to be cool with my inherent strange conversations but now you’re just allergic to fun.

I’ve gotten used to weirding people out with my morbid obscurity, but seriously. Open your mind.

ON an unrelated matter, totally re-discovering The Smiths.  Where were they when I was a hopelessly melancholic teenager? (Who am I trying to kid saying was lol only change is I’ve got more wrinkles and saggy tits now…)

Nonsense Unicorn over and out

 

 


9 Comments

Loves of my Life

I reckon we experience a lot of different loves in our lifetimes, as we fumble through on the eternal search for that one sparkly human that lights up your world.

I thought I would share a couple of the stories of the loves I have experienced in my 29 years of being.

The Star Crossed Love

I was 16 years old (cue Benny Mardones here) and on a family holiday overseas to the mother land to meet family. Days spent hanging out on a farm, one of my cousins mates was interested in me and a love bloomed.


It was kinda disgusting how text book it was – it first started when he asked me to go to a town dance where we waltzed together and later kissed under the moonlight.

Followed by 6 weeks of moonlight picnics and day trips to town eating 6 ice creams just to prolong the time we were spending together.

He spoke broken English and my understanding of the language was crappy, but somehow we connected and made it work.

Unfortunately due to the problem of me living a million miles away, we were torn apart at the end of the holiday, looking out the back window in tears as I saw the love of my life slowly fade in to the distance. We wrote love letters for a while but that slowly faded away.

My parents went over there not long ago. He is married with a kid now, but apparently when he gets drunk he still talks about me. 

The First Real Boyfriend

The cherry was my first real relationship. You know, proper dating and waiting a month to screw.

It lasted about 2.5 years but probably 1.5 years too long. I was in love, but I guess it was one of those things where you are more in love with being in a relationship than actually having a real deep connection.

I was hurt when it ended, but in retrospect it was more of an ego bruising than heartbreak.

The One that got away


I was so in love with the Watermelon for a very long time. Read the hyperlink for the whole story, but he was always that guy that (maybe I totally imagined it) like there was some kind of magnet there, but for some reason just never went anywhere. It was never meant to be, but I pined for so long.

We hooked up twice (no sex) which still stand as some of the sexiest moments I’ve had, as well as some of the most romantic (Nights in White Satin will always remind me of him).

I stepped away from our friendship to distance myself, and now he’s on his way to becoming a priest, so that probably says a lot about the situation.

Although I’ve been over it for a very long time, I still can’t help but wonder if there was anything there for him too. I guess I will never know.

The Lie


I spent a good three years of my life begging a fool to love me. It was through this experience that I actually learnt what real love is and that the right person will go the hard yards with you and that you are worth it.

Dumb mother fucker professed his love for me when I stopped seeing him when I met the Boy. Too little too late doy.

The Real Deal


And that brings me to The Boy today. Almost five years of up and down, and heck who knows if this is a forever deal, but at least I know that we have gone through a lot of waves and still something keeps us connected.

We have respect for each other, we get each other, we fight for each other. That’s pretty sweet for now.
And there’s the loves of my life. What’s yours?

Nonsense unicorn 


1 Comment

Things that go bump in the night

I’ve come to the conclusion that as soon as lights go out, shit gets weird.

The other night I woke up to the feeling of something touching my eye. In my sleepy state, I rubbed my eye, felt a small round hard object and then immediately freaked out and threw it across the room. What was it? A beetle. A beetle was sitting on my eyelid, sucking my eye juices while I slept. I had a dry eye all day after that.

image

Maybe I should do this to keep them away..

image

Or THIS.

This isn’t the first time weird bug-related shit has happened in the night. One time I went to the bathroom during the night and while washing my hands, noticed my toothbrush was different. Lordy, lordy me, there was a huge cockroach straddling the bristles. I think it was drinking the water left on it from me cleaning my teeth earlier.

image

FYI I now have a travel cover which goes over the head and keeps bugs off. Which is maybe why they’re thirsty enough to drink my eye juices instead.. Gah!

Another great night I woke up to a huge cockroach chillin out right next to my face. And I’ve also had a huntsman spider the width of my wrist crawl on my face.

image

But bugs aren’t the only oddities I encounter during the night. No, there’s no ghost tales here, basically I am my own worst enemy while half asleep. I’ve had nights where I’ve rolled off the edge of the bed, farted myself awake (I do that a LOT these days) and in some weird possessed manner, do strange things with my hands during the night (idle hands eeeek).

The guys at work still laugh at one particular story because I was so tired the next day that I had to take a day off work. My bad.

I had just moved in with DD and had my own bedroom. During the night I had to go to the bathroom and when I got back to my room, closed the door and heard a funny sound in the door knob. I went to open it but it wouldnt open. Apparently this door knob locks if you turn it a certain way but I didnt know this, especially at midnight in the pitch black. I wrestled with the ‘broken’ handle trying to undo it until success – half an hour later. Of course I considered ringing dd during this time but I didn’t want to wake him.

I got into bed relieved and got back to sleep. I then woke up a few hours later having just had a dream about heart attacks. I could randomly smell popcorn through the house. I wondered if this was like my version of burnt toast (apparently some people smell burnt toast before having a heart attack) and then layed in bed freaking out and not being able to sleep, waiting for my heart attack to happen. It didn’t, and this all seems so silly now but everything is so much more of a big issue through the night.

So I ask you, what weird/silly things have happened to you in the night??

Rambling Goat


14 Comments

I’ve lost my Individuality

We’ve all seen friends go from an individual to an individual with a perfectly suited (or not so perfectly suited) goiter hanging off them. This huge goiter is their new partner and there’s now fat chance you’ll be able to hang with them without their goiter.

image

The beebs before his goiter was removed.

Don’t get me wrong, some goiters are awesome. NU’s one is a delightful specimen and there is no difference to me between hanging with her or hanging with them both (I’m a happy third wheel who doesn’t actually ever feel like a third wheel).

My problem is that I have a large growth of my own and it’s giving me grief. I cant do all the things I want to in life – it is holding me back.

As much as I want to get back to my goiter-less life, I have to keep it attached for a bit longer.. Its the ultimate test in patience and is an equally awesome and crappy situation.

Let me ask you a question. What would you do for $20,000? Would you date someone that you know you don’t want to have a LTR with? Would you have a relationship style that is not exactly where you want it? Would you stay home instead of hanging with friends just to keep this person happy? Would you be prepared to lose your independence the moment you step in the door? Have little to no privacy? Have a serious talk about relationship shit every weekend?

Well that’s what I did and am continuing to do.

The thing is, he’s not a bad guy. He’s just not for me. He’s got wonderful traits, is epic in the sack and genuinely cares for me but he’s another tolerant monogamist (with jealousy issues) dating a poly girl. It doesn’t help that this T/M and P/G are now combined into one entity instead of two individuals..

When I first moved in, I told him I’d like to meet a guy from fetlife for a beer and he got the grumps. I once had dinner at the pub with my guy friend (after he helped me pick up my kayak from 1.5 hrs away) and he got the grumps. If I go out for beers or even just TALK about my guy friends, he gets the grumps. If I see my play partner, even just for a beer, he asks how my afternoon was but I can tell he has the grumps. If I get beeps on my phone from msgs while he’s in the room, he gets the grumps.

When he gets the grumps, he doesn’t say anything but I can tell. Its the way someone speaks, their eye movements, the way their body sits. We learn this through experience. But if I question if he’s upset about something? He gets the grumps and tells me I’m reading him wrong and he’s actually happy. He lies straight to my face. Through this, I now know what will make him unhappy/uncomfortable and try to avoid those situations. He’s conditioned me and I’ve knowingly let him. I apparently think his happiness is more important than mine.

And as for the friend who drags their goiter to every event, well that’s not us. He’s older, not interested in hanging with people in their 20’s, is an introvert who doesn’t want to socialise and doesn’t seem to click on a social level with my few friends. It’s a massive red flag for this social butterfly who gets along with most people. I’ve become friends with my dressing gown.

So you’re probably thinking ‘easy solution, just leave him!’ but this is where the 20k comes in. I’m saving up to buy a house. Did I mention I live in sydney with high rents, very tough banks and a median house price in the region of $900,000? While living here with him (rent free) I’ve been able to save $20,000 in about 9 months. I’d try and buy a house now but I’m still a temp at work so the banks won’t look at me for another 2 months. I’ve just applied for a permanent job at work but it’s the longest process ever – a month or so off being fully processed. I could just try and rent but I’m so close to the finish line! I’ve been living this life for 9 months now, so what’s another 2?

I’ve come to the realisation that yes, I’m a user. Living here is cheap, convenient, I have someone who cares for me and I should in theory be happy, but I’m not. I don’t want to live here. I’d be happy to date him in small doses but not full time. I’m doing what I can to help my future but in the process I’m denying myself the opportunity to meet new people who truly get and appreciate me as I am and with all the things I want. I don’t see my friends much (haven’t seen NU in like 3 months!!) and I just feel like a robot, going through the motions.

I honestly just can’t believe the same situation is happening to me again. And yes, both this guy and my ex have different levels of comfort but it’s just little ol’ me trying to make someone else happy and forgetting about myself. AGAIN.

This (and the job stuff) is why I’ve been quiet lately so to end on a good note, I’m going to stay optimistic and say it’ll all work out. Soon I’ll be kicking back in my new house talking shit like normal, ok? 🙂

Rambling Goat


7 Comments

Revenge Scenarios

People like to talk about the assholes in their life and how they have hurt them so bad. Heck, I’m sure everyone has done it – you know, turn yourself into a martyr because someone hurt you.

Resentment: it burns in the depths of your soul and fuels sweet sweet fantasies of exacting perfect revenge on those who crossed you.

  
It turns you into a spiritual guru knowing that karma baby, karma will get them.

You even become totes great mates with the horsemen of the apocalypse knowing that they’ll get what’s coming to them.

You viscerally thrive on their misfortunes because damn they deserve it for ever crossing you.

It just makes me wonder…. What about all the times you were the asshole? Because let’s face it, it’s human nature to hurt and be hurt.

How would you feel knowing that someone you hurt – it could have been unintentional in your eyes, but caused a world of devastation for someone else – knowing, that they were funnelling all their anger and resentment into you?

What if all your bad luck and shortcoming was because of someone opening the karma gates on your ass?

People are always quick to martyr themselves and so very differently ever accept their own douchebaghery.

So, I’m gonna admit to some of the times where I was indeed the asshole – and yeah sorry about that aye?!

  • The friend who I would joke about sexually innuendo-like for ages, we slept together to kinda break the tension, even went onValentines dates and concerts. And then I just ran off with another boy – in retrospect I now realise he liked me for real real and I just thought we were mucking around.  Sorry for being a heartless jerk bro.
  • That time I was meant to meet a friend who came to my suburb but I was in a depressed stupor and stood her up. Depression isn’t an excuse to be an asshole, I’m sorry.
  • That other time I went interstate with some friends and had an anxiety attack so ditched them for the weekend and went to stay with a boy (who stopped me from getting on a plane home by myself). I should have communicated my feelings but I was a dick.
  • This story is very multi layered, but I was a jerk for getting  so drunk that I let a friend who had a girlfriend have a shower with me and then he touched me and told his girlfriend. Being drunk ain’t no excuse, I should have told him to back off. Sorry girlfriend for letting that happen.
  • That guy on New Years who thought I was beautiful and face raped me – instead of being honest and telling him I’m not interested I just ran away and hid. That was a dick move.
  • That other guy who stalked me at work and gave me his business card – instead of being honest I threw his card away. Sorry for all the effort you went to.
  • The other friend I was close to and slept with and then instead of being cool I got all awkward and avoided him like the plague. That was very immature and I’m really sorry for being lame like that.

And there’s heaps more I can dig up, but I’ll stop there.

I guess the moral of the story is sometimes you gotta back away from the revenge train and take a good hard look at yourself and stop being the asshole you don’t think you are.

Nonsense unicorn


10 Comments

Why do we get drunk?

Yes, obviously I’m hungover because no functioning person would ask that question.

image

I am unable to get out of bed without at least 20 mins of self-convincing, I dont want to conversate with peeps and for some reason having popcorn for breakfast seemed like an epic idea. I’m laying in bed with all my sheets scrunched into a mess, have a half eaten bag of popcorn stinking my room up and now after the realisation that my popcorn was past its use by date, I’m wondering if I’ve sped up my rate of dying.

image

I’ve also just had to leap up out of bed because dd got home and I remembered I’d left my vomit-covered shoes in the bathroom. Apparently he knew about them already – he took them off my feet last night when I tried to sleep in them. He also told me that I’m selfish among other things and I cried.

image

There’s no awesomely hilarious tale of my drunken night, all I did was hang out at a Japanese restaurant with the GPOV’S. After I left them, I then proceeded to have a terrible drunk adventure of getting on a train, getting off, finding a toilet, spewing, getting on a new train etc. One station I didn’t even make it to the toilet and spewed in a busy train station corridor. My 10 min journey home took 2 hours.

image

So now all I can do is smirk at photos of animals who look hungover because these guys seemingly understand my pain right now;

image

image

image

Hey life, I want to know why our brain thinks it’s a great idea to keep feeding itself alcohol. Why can’t it see when it’s had enough and just stop? With me, there’s no possible reason to keep going – I say the same things and pretty much do the same stuff while sober. I could have sat there sober and had the same amount of fun so why do I keep drinking and drinking? Ugh. It’s so fucked. I need to go back to my 4 drink limit instead of loudly deciding half a beer in that “I’m gonna get DRUNK tonight!”

To all the hungover peeps out there who are laying in a foetal position and looking for something to amuse their lifeless bodies, I hear ya. Enjoy;

image

image

image

image

image

image

image

image

Rambling Goat