Pay the thunder no mind... listen to the birds...

Time moves too swiftly for those who wait... and too slowly for those who grieve. Words from my dear Yaya's grave. God, I love her. I know I am neglecting you, dear blog, but business is tough. I have a thesis to write. A thesis! I've never written a thesis before, and already I am screwing it up, getting behind on my deadlines and work.

I will be moving out of the house which I have lived for the past year to move into another place. I refer to it in a context containing a distinct lack of emotion merely because it is just a place. With a bed and a desk. And CABLE internet. The handsome folks didn't call me back, and I can't sit on my hands anymore. The place is cheap, and it is a place to sleep. In some ways, it is fantastic. In other ways, it is lousy. One thing is that I could only really fit a single bed in there. Perhaps I am digging my own holes? And the house is crowded. It contains a piece of a family and some other students. My reasoning here, though, is that home is just a place to hang your hat. And I found my favorite hat so it all seems to fit together. (The hat was once owned by a guy that liked my baby sister... my twin sister, rather... and he gave it to her and I took it 'cause I wanted it... it's red... :)

I also told the gas and electricity to cut off our utilities on Friday. I told the other housemates I did this on Wednesday (in a note!) and that they should get along as soon as possible and arrange these utilities to be reconnect. Golly, I hope they do it today, because the company requires 3 whole days to organize someone to come over. What a shame it will be if they wake up electricity- and gas-less over the weekend. Perhaps I should have included such detail in my note? Oh dear me. :)

I had a good day today... I went to the beach and sat there eating chips with some friends ... and I was feeding these seagulls and crows... and then they started attacking me, and I ended up throwing my souvlaki at them and flipping over all my chips and running to the awaiting car! I got garlic sauce all over my pants. 'Twas a good day. :)

William John.

Splash! Look mummy... I'm wet...!

I don’t want to jump right into a puddle immediately… but exactly where does one go to meet someone of the same sex? (Of course, I mean to imply that it will be us that will also be having the same sex … simultaneously, I mean.)

I can’t help but notice that I am getting quite a bit of attention by femmes recently. And I can’t understand it. They hadn’t taken notice when they had their chance, now they are just patronizing me. Poking the bear. And in the wrong spot, too.

Yesterday I put up an online ad to try and find someone to replace me in this godamn place I live in that smells much too fishy for my tastes, and I already received a call. But it turns out that the girl wasn’t really interested in the room at all. She just wanted someone to talk to. It was all quite sad, really… the saddest conversation I’ve ever had. And I don’t have enough emotion to deal with other people and their problems. I really don’t. Is that a flaw?

Anyhow, this girl, Helena, rang me up and told me about her life this past year… how her world had fallen apart when her father had a major heart attack and died on New Years Day. She got really depressed, during which time her boyfriend cheated on her. Her mother has found someone else to marry now, and he’s been using the aftershave poor Helena gave to her father on Father’s Day. To add to the trouble, Helena has found herself a man on the side. And she wants to move out of her home. With me. She said I sounded really nice… a rarity… and that she wanted us to move in together. Find a place or something. This was just from talking with me on the phone. She was practically crying when she said it, though, so I am unsure if I am really nice all the time, or only at the lowest points of the life of a stranger conversing with me for the first time in a non-intimate medium…

Besides that, it was some kind of queer week this week at Uni. I didn’t really take part… but some guy came up to me and gave me some free fruit. I love free fruit. It was a manderin. So, now I guess I’m part of the scene, huh…?

William John.

One hit for Manuel... one for me...

Walters or Kazha? From Latvia. Mmm.

The place that I'm looking at has some great features... mainly, a guy that looks like a singer representing Latvia at Eurovision this year. Mmmm. Godamn. Oops. I shouldn't say that... you never know "Who" may be listening, if you know what I mean....

But, I haven't heard back from them. I don't want to seem desperate and eager... but I am... I will call them tomorrow... and will refrain from admitting my resplendent undying love... if I can refrain myself.

Well, this is not in all true. I sent one of them a message to say "so, can I come over now and meet the other guy", and I received a reply that read "yeah, sure... come over now" ... and here is where it all gets screwy.

I thought I replied to Him (He deserves capitals, too, doesn't He...?) "OK, will be there in 20 minutes" ... but it turns out I sent that message to the wrong person. So there I was, driving 30 in the pouring rain at 10pm... so very close to the house... when I received a message: "you haven't replied that you are coming up... we are going to bed... we will reschedule..." Ouch.

And I was there... and I don't think that they were really in bed... the lights looked on, they were just annoyed that I'd just show up without warning. (I sent them a message saying how close I was...) I reckon this is why I haven't heard more from them. I'm not mature enough for them... :(

Damn, my life is like a stupid sitcom with damn misunderstandings every day... now... to hang this moose head on the wall with ease and to hit my Spanish butler over the head with something metallic... :)

William John.

So, can the shower fit 3 people...?

I went to see two places today in search of my new home. The first place has two 20 year old guys. I am 20. They are 20. I'm a guy. They are guys. And, the one I met was soooome guy, let me tell you. He was godamn handsome. I'm not kidding. The house was so godamn neat. These people are neat freaks. I love it! Aha! Of course, the place is out of my way, triples my travel time, and is almost 25% more expensive than the place I'm in at the moment... but ... the guys there are workaholics, neat freaks, my age and handsome. Why not move confidently into their midst?

Anyhow, I hope they choose me. I haven't met one of them yet, and will probably do so on Monday. Godamn, I am way too busy for all this, so I hope to God that it works out.

The other guy I saw was OK too. An oldish sort of guy. Very weird... kept stroking his cat. Loves sci-fi. I'd just as well fit in there, too, but the place wasn't very great (he called himself a clean freak, but the chores roster was done every 3 weeks, and the room was small and lousy. 'Tis sad, because we got along so well, I know he's gonna ring me up on Monday.)

Oh, another thing... the handsome guys (I assume the other one is handsome... they both go to the gym, drink skim milk and have those happy round cheeks) ... their house doesn't have a phone line. So I'll have to post from Uni if I have to. And I'm already so slack in posting as it is! :(

William John.

I've sewed the shirt into my skin...

I went home and got my Colorado top back from my sister, who had stolen it for weeks. It's this blue jumper that a Harvard student would wear. I'm guessing that they would anyway. At least, that's what I'm going for. Besides that, I got mum to make me a roast... and godamn was it good. My stomach is more filled up than it has been for ages.

Y'know... I took a picture of myself shirtless to post. You people are nuts. But there are two problems with this. One is, that I am very thin and look like crap. I wouldn't want to see me shirtless, which is why noone has seen me without a shirt for many years now. I turn away at reflections in the mirror before I go in the shower. And, also, I don't have the best chest. By this, and I'm serious, it has developed wrong. In a bad shape and all. One more reason to cover up. It's terrible.

Anyhow. Noone has seen me shirtless for years. And there I was taking a picture for y'all. I took it and all... but couldn't bring myself to post it. I guess it's one step forward, though. But, honestly, I can't do it. I can't post it. And it would be silly to as well... you bunch of perves. Lol. Let's see you all shirtless and I'll reconsider. :)

I think I'm gonna move also. I'm at the end of my tether with these morons. So soon enough you may not get all the wonderful stories of how these people are cancers on my soul. ;)

William John.

I.... am not an animal... I'm a Sprengel...

I am not a beast. I have the amount of hair I need which is proportional to my manliness. I need it so that when I find someone they can stroke it and play with it and comb it. It will one day have a purpose.

[Hermann Johann Philipp Sprengel]
(1834-1906)

However. However! In no way can I say that all of my hair adds to the cuteness which one may perceive in my other pictures. Which is why I will not be taking a picture of myself without being covered in garments! Seriously!

Firstly (and lastly as well)... I do have some buttock hair... it's swirly and largely resembles the timely moustache of the late Hermann Johann Philipp Sprengel, who invented a new type of vacuum tube in 1865 and devised the U-tube method for comparing liquid densities. But that's besides the point. You do NOT want to see me nude. Seriously... ;)

William John.

The yelling match...

When one of the girls came home I told her straight away what I thought; they were both being immature, unfriendly and uncool. She sat there and took it. Before I began, though, she made the comment "Aren't you gonna wait for Jess to come home?"
It was obvious from there that Jess was the spanner in the works. That she would make the most noise when belted with words. And, by God, she was ready for it. Like a tigress, she had stored it all up. Everything that I had done that had ticked her off for the past 3 months all came out.

Luckily, a life of having 3 sisters had prepared me for this day, and I was set to give some back. We had a yelling match for 15 minutes, me and this housemate. It ended up with a few comprimizes. I probably lost in many ways, but I let them know that they hadn't the right to handle all my stuff and move things around and that this wasn't how people lived. And that I have some balls and if you mess with em they'll swing around and hit you in the godamn face and knock you out!

If they wanted to live in a sharehouse, they had to be social... or at least pretend to be. Anyhow, it all seemed to end alright. They (or at least Jess... Kendall was rather morose at the time, eyes flicking back and forth between us two as though she were watching a game of tennis) agreed to some of my thoughts and I agreed to some of what they said. It ended with enough smiling to be unorthodoxly comfortable, but I suppose that tomorrow is where the true answers lie.

;)

William John.
PS. They made some comment about hair in the bathroom after I finish. I don't know where this is coming from, I'm not extensive on body hair. Anyhow, I'll humor them and look to see exactly what a beast I am. I'm blaming in on a new towel, personally. I did notice a lot of blue pieces falling off of it, but didn't think that washing them away after I got out was necessary - Melbourne is in water restrictions after all. And I don't have blue hair either. :)

The Chickengate Drumstick Scandal...

Two days ago I awoke to find a note on the kitchen bench from one of my housemates, Kendall, letting me know that the fridge stinks, and that the offending odor, by her expert analyses, was coming from some chicken drumsticks that I'd thawed just days earlier and some containers of food I'd had in there. So I threw away the containers, but the chicken did not smell at all. So I left it. The next day, the note was amended. "The fridge STILL stinks. If you don't throw away the chicken, WE will." The use of the word we scares me. I think Kendall may have some kind of sybiont being living inside of her. Perhaps a few of them, all with obsessive compulsive disorders of their own.

Anyhow, so I wrote a note back reading that the chicken was not in the fridge very long and that maybe it is the off tomatoes in Kendall's shelf, and also to stop throwing my stuff away.

The same night I notice a full page note there. I glance at it, realize that it's just going to give me a headache, and go to a party instead. (See, I am socializing now! I'll tell you about it later... :)
They are sitting in the room as they expect me to read it. These people are the most immature I have ever had the displeasure to know. Why don't they just summarize it for me in a couple of words?

And here is what that lover-ly note read, word by word...

'
William,

I suggest you have another look. Their are several items of yours clearly off. The chicken was thawed out a week ago, if you knew common food safety you would know, once you use a product you have thawed, the maximum they last is 2 days. "Smell it" - it's off, your eggs are rotten, your sour cream if off and the list goes on. In reference to Kendall's tomatoes - SMELL THEM before naming them, they have no smell. In reference to "Throwing out YOUR STUFF". LOL. Don't you mean the previous tenants stuff. Not one item that we have thrown out has not been was passed it's used by date or empty. So that is just a joke.
'

This letter was obvious written by one of the symbionts... or my other housemate, Jess, an obvious mental cuntface. It is an obvious work of art. A coup de grace of note writing. The girl is the next Loius Pasteur, perhaps. (They don't know who he is... I asked once. They didn't care.). Her insight into the on and off states of foods are remarkable. I especially appreciate her science experiment where she stores her margarine in the pantry. How she throws away items by used by date without knowing anything about them. Baking Soda sure can go off. Whoa, lucky we got rid of that one. Whoo-hoo. Good on you, Loius No. 2.

Are these people for real? I am at home less than 10% of every day, but these two are bitching and moaning like I am leaving vaginal discharge pellets on the toilet seat. And that is a mere impossibility. But if it does occur, I'm sure I'll be receiving a rather insightful note by Louis No. 2. Yay...

William John.

Hello Darling, bist Du da? Sag ich so wie jedesmal...

My head is throbbing. I stare into blank spare and breathe in and out, focusing on nothing in particular, but remaining content nonetheless. Happy not to have to think. To not have to be stressed or be worried. I'm home now, playing my music up loud... the only impact I seem to have on the house that I rent anymore. There are now Cleo pictures of half-naked men and women adorning the walls of the toilet and loungeroom. I'd lie if I said I didn't look at gay "art" (aka porn) on occasion. Is the loo the place for that kind of thing? What does one do to make one's point clear? Leave some come smeared all over one of the pictures? The one of the man? ;)

The girls don't talk to me, and I don't waste the time on them. Words wasted, in my opinion. I can only even muster a "hi" now. No eye contact. I am thinking of moving out. On one hand, I don't want to let them get the best of me. They were idiots when I chose them, and it's not their faults that they don't have the vocation I have. Or any vocation, come to think of it. Shame. On the other hand, most of the furniture is mine, and they'd have to replace it all. Me leaving might hit em a bit. I'm sure they'd shrug it off pretty quick, and congratulate one another over McDonalds and cheap beer.

Anyhow, I don't know why I am thinking of this. I am too busy to move. And I love this house. This isn't the first I've been in, but I'd hoped it would be the last that I'd have to stay in for the purposes of being close to Uni. I've even got the best room since the last people left. All closed off here on the side, with a pull-down window shade outside and a mirrored-wardrobe that makes a heck of noise when one tries to open it... makes me shriek every time I open or close it...

There's a new guy in the house now, to add to my woes. He's a Sri Lankan guy, thin and large cranium-ed. He makes that motion that rapper's make with his hands. How this guy got through the other housemates racial filter I'll never know. I think it might have something to do with the nice car that he drives. Oh, it's not that nice... and I'm not really into cars. Sure, if one has a nice arctic blue BMW, I'd swoon. But otherwise, I don't get impressed very much. He's nice enough. Even offered me some of this godamn pizza that he'd bought. But I am in the process of ignoring the other two in such an obvious manner that I couldn't join everyone. It's the principle of the thing.
He even shakes my hand hello. But only after he does that rapper hand motion. You know the one... hold the hand open-palmed around the chest area and then swoop down and forward. What is that all about? Do I respond with "Wassup homie?"

Anyhow, I don't know how effective my loud-music playing is going. I don't have songs that rock the house. Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman singing 'Time to say Goodbye' isn't something one can head bang to. I'm sure it is having no effect at all, but it gives me something to do. Chances are foreign languages scare them. Good. I think I have some French songs on here, too. I'll have to get some German as well. I know I had the German version of 'Mandy' on a CD somewhere...

Oh Mandy, bist Du wirklich am Ende gegangen,
um für immer zu geh'n...?

Oh Mandy, konntest Du's mir nicht wenigstens sagen?
Sowas hilft zu verstehen.
Ooooohh Mandy.

:)

I promised myself an early night, and it has rolled onto quarter to ten already. I didn't get home until past 7pm and I'm a little weary. The phone line is being used up again by the skank, damnit, so I'll just save this and post it tomorrow. (She got off eventually... so I'm doing it tonight! :)

Hey, I just went into the loungeroom. My music is waaaay loud. They even had to close a door to try and block out Van Morrison, but I've turned up the bass to as high as it can go, and there is no escaping it. BWahahahaha! A small victory! I think I'll end off the night with John Lennon's 'Mind Games'... ;)

William John.

Chrysanthemums don't have any smell... or my nose may be blocked...

Although I am not financial enough to show my Mum a real time and shower her with big gifts, that probably isn't really the point of Mother's Day, eh?

So I bought her some chrysanthemums (yes, I looked it up on an online dictionary) and didn't put up a fight when she asked me to dance when the whole family went out to dinner. God, I can't move very well. ;)

There was this singer there that looked like Pavarotti, and he sang some opera and a lot "this one is dedicated to all the Mothers in the room" songs. When he finished, I complimented him, and he was surprized that I'd even appreciate such outdated music.

Anyhow, I would have liked to have made this a longer post, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut it short. I just got into the lab (I would have posted from home, but one of my skanky housemates was hogging up the phone line!) and I have to start a procedure for examining the protein content inside of yeast cells. Will try and get on again later tonight. :)

William John.

Another spin around the sun, another lie...

I remember watching this episode of Mad About You where Jamie and Paul go to this spa, or something like that, and they start telling everyone lies. It's their own little game, and they really get into it. The only thing is, the people start catching on, and they all start thinking that Paul is a liar, but that Jamie is completely truthful. She ends up telling everyone that Paul is a compulsive liar. Tehehe.

So, anyway, I was feeling a little bored last week, so when the opportunity presented itself, I told a wee little lie. Kendall, the housemate in the picture above (with a face that looks like hands) was wondering where I was going one night. So I just told her that I was going to visit my girlfriend. Of course, I was just going to Uni for some late night work, but that is so disinteresting, and I do have a blog to think of, now, don't I? Now I am left wondering if that was the best lie I could have told. She keeps pressing for her name and details, and I really can't be bothered. I don't know why I would even bother lying about such a thing. I couldn't give a damn what my housemates think, really. But I did like telling a lie. :)

Now, I know what you're all thinking... I'm a sad dork from right out of that Janis Ian song, At Seventeen. It's probably true. And I'm sorry I did it, now... of course... I'm NOT 17, so I can tell all the lies I godamn want to! ;)

'And those of us with ravaged faces, lacking in the social graces... desperately remained at home... inventing lovers on the phone... who called to say, "come dance with me"... and murmured vague obscenities...'

Anyhow, I am so unshaven in that picture. I don't know why I am posting it... a little bit of adornment, I suppose. Not worthy of wallpaper, though, so keep the other one of me that you have there. :)

William John.

A dork, drunk on lemonade...

You would not believe what I did today! I went trampolining. Apparently, at Sports Centers, they have room with trampolines built into the floors. You just jump up and down. I think it could just be for kids, but I still have the ability to jump up and down, so it must be for me, too.

There's this girl that I work with at Uni, Kelly, who is in some kind of dorky club. But I've seen some pictures that she takes of all the people, and it looks kind of fun. The people look fun. I could never get as drunk as some of the stories she tells, but I'm willing to try and socialize. Which is why I decided to join Kelly and her friends in her dorky activity. There are rumors going around Uni that I like her, but I am just over-friendly, I suppose.

Anyhow, she took a picture of me there, but I was making a monkey face, so I deleted it when she wasn't looking. I haven't shaved for a few days either, so I looked like a bum. I don't know why I decided to go. I guess I just didn't want to sit around the house like I always do. There is a lot of research and reading I should probably be doing, but I never really get around to it. Then I went back to her place and sat with her housemates watching Desperate Housewives. I think I overstayed my welcome, but I didn't want to leave and miss any. It's the only show I tend to give a damn about nowadays. (Although I love Frasier, and download Millennium, Family Guy and South Park episodes onto my computer... albeit really slowly. :)

The dork club is going for some kind of pub crawl in the next few days and I am thinking of going. I've never really been on one before. We'll see, anyway... I'm not much of a drinker. I'm already clumsy enough, and it doesn't take much to make me get silly. Once, my friend gave me lemonade and I assumed that it was some kind of alcoholic beverage. I started acting all silly. It really doesn't take much...

William John.