Right at this moment there are possums screaming and banging in the space above my head. Literal.
Well I'm late for the anniversary, but only Hugh cares.
I suppose I should start with a beginning... the possums have stopped screaming for now.
I really should go into the roof and block up wherever they are getting in. They sound like elephants when they run over the tin roof. Elephants running, not trumpeting; that would be strange...
I'm starting a new blog because such a great gap in time has passed since I wrote in my old one, and Tom told me the old blog was "emo"... and in all honesty it was a bit. (I couldn't bring myself to type "and in all honesty it was fucking emo")
But I can't hate myself for being emo, because then I really WOULD be emo and then it wouldn't just be the blog. So on with it.
I've never really sank into the blogosphere like Ben or Hugh. So if this is short lived and I wander off for something less green then don't assume I've died. As is wont on the internet.
I think in a way, I'd prefer a blog that looked like my sketchbooks. No discerning direction, but more true to what I think about all the live long day.
The next post will be a real one, I promise.
Happy Anniversary,
Medium Ben, Johnny Beehive and Legs.
Yours Truly, Standard Harry.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
41 comments:
Oh, come here, you big baby.
And then change the wallpaper.
I wish i could move the middle, so it was just green on one side.
I wish I could fart less.
...as opposed to this non-real post.
Certainly couldn't wander off to anything -more- green. :p
I thought it was quite real.
Certainly more satisfying on a "what the crap is he going on about" way than Hugh's, less emo than mine, and lacking in all the pornography that brought Johnny B's to light.
Harry anniversary, you old souse.
Not to diminish the compliment, but I hardly think you can accurately assess this blog based on one post that says only "Hugh" and another that serves primarily as a preface for an as yet unwritten next post.
Then again, this'll no doubt be the extent of this blog, so your way's as accurate as any. Not yet emo, direct, unpretentious, punctuated. Keep this up and there'll be a discoloured platter coming your way.
Remember that one time Harry posted?
That was great.
We should drink to it one time.
On the condition that I don't get a bus home with you after.
Why must you stifle my attempts to redecorate Melbourne?
Let's just say I think your colour scheme stinks.
He just wanted to town to match his vest's colour tis all.
Exactly. Remember what Oscar Wilde said about wallpaper.
Was Oscar Wilde a vandal?
News to me. :p
Well, he had a penchant for redecoration.
He had nothing to declare but his Guinness. There it was, splattered over the carpet.
I'm still waiting on the accolades for my version of that quote.
I think that had all the accolades you could expect. As Oscar (or was it Wilbur) said himself, a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.
Wilbur was fond of Sax on the Beach
Gasp! We've moved beyond the fabled '19 comment' barrier.
...I've not heard of this fabled barrier.
Elucidate?
That was where his previous blog died.
Oh, I think this one died long before 19.
I've tried nudging Harry via MSN/IM, but I think we'll see his sketch books up on the net before another blog post. (He says we'll be able to "plumb [his] subconscious mind".)
Oh gods, he's back on the pipe? We're in trouble.
Discussed the very matter with him last night, yes. He's lacking a scanner plug at the moment, though. (What a rot of a party, ay Ben?)
Really, aside from you after that coke, it was quite... Amusing.
It was great when I showed up and you three tried to quickly usher me away into the night,
Ushering you away and our subsequent stroll was the only amusing/enjoyable part for me. An utterly repellent experience; should hold me off testing those waters myself until I'm at least a severely infirm prune. Reminded me of my teetotaling days, only infinitely worse. I suppose I'll be less severe with Harry now.
Nah, that's no fun.
Which waters, exactly?
Narcotic waters — never even been remotely tempted to dip.
Hmm, neither.
And look how we turned out.
Indeed. I've often faced the question "What are you on? I want some". Seems my brain doesn't need any exogenous encouragement.
Must be the Zappa in you.
My blog is not a chat room. Sheesh.
Anyway, I've gotten my hands on a scanner and I'm starting the long arduous task of scanning in every page of my multiple sketch books.
I'm not sure where I'm going to host it, I'm thinking an image hosting site... and not deviant art.
Well somebody's got to keep this site active for the kids.
"Anyway, I've gotten my hands on a boner and I'm starting the long arduous task of wanking in every page of my multiple sketch books."
You asked for it.
...How?
Harry dropped the w-bomb.
Post a Comment