Yeah. That One Was Pretty Good.

So basically, the year is over. I did a lot of things this year. I did a lot of new things this year. I made new friends, none of whom I regret becoming friends with. We are defined perhaps even more by the bad things that happen to us than the good. If I could have lived this year again, the only thing I would change is the amount of guitar practice that I did. Because I didn't do enough.

I never really do anything for new years. Three years ago, I didn't even know it was new years eve, and was disappointed that the christmas tree had to be put away when I woke up. The year before last, my whole family just went to bed before 10:00 and I stayed up very quietly and watched the Tv. I saw the fireworks in sydney last year in the street with many other people, and got caught in a little bit of a police riot, but that's a story for another time.

My goal this year was to have as much fun as is humanly possible. And I achieved that with a success that I certainly could have imagined, but was none the less very unexpected.

This year has made me tired. He future is about as clear as mud to me, and it always has been. Though I remember being a year eleven meeting the year twelves, and thinking they were bigger and stronger and smarter and more interesting than me. I know that few enough people think about other people the way I do about them, but seeing as the tables are now turned I think it is likely that the year elevens may feel a similar way.

I want many things, some because I'm being rational, and some because I'm not. I think my new years goal is... well, I still want to have fun, and I'm not going to detract from the fun in anyway, but now I'll have more educated selective fun, instead of last year, where I just ran around and marveled at all the things I was able to do now with great big wide eyes, now that the black iron bars had been and gone.

So as I said to Adrian tonight, I shall:

"Be not the moth, but the flame." I'll not goggle at the amazing sights this year, but only be an amazing sight to be goggled at. And that is just as fun. Just a different type of fun.

I like to say I'm sorry for the bad things that I do all the time. And I am, but tonight I shall apologize to no one. Buried in all the self loathing that is the Joel you all know and might like a bit, is a tiny spark of pride for the things I've achieved this year. I'm proud of my dumb little blog, and I'm proud of my stupid paintings, and I'm proud of the development of my annoying, pretentious character.

I've done some good things, and hurt only very few people. They deserved it in my opinion. Except for Matt "Esophagus" Shannon. I feel a bit bad about that... Ah well. I'll cut that out this next year.

I'm not a shining example of Christianity, no, but I know some people who think they are, and I know I'm better than them. So screw it.

I would wish you a good year, but it will be good or bad whether I wish it so or not. So, all I'll say is good luck, remember whatever it is that you need to remember, and do whatever it is you need to do. Everybody has got to do something.

Marietta

"And as we look upon the God's of Lost America, and the ruin of such enormous structures and impossible computing systems, we wonder, what kind of a world was this 21st century? A strange contradictory land, full of the greatest technological marvels that the world has ever known, and only the most barbarian concepts, absent of kindness and decency and laking in common human virtue. "

- Expeditions Log, Captain Abraham G. Exodus

Of the airship Marrietta, Year, 1012 A.A

Death, The Ultimate Democracy.

The doom and redemption of humanity will be always the desperate actions of desperate folk.

But no matter how I wish it,

The world it always changes.

The steady march of time,

Is just that,

Steady,

Remorseless,

Final as the sunrise.

Uncaring of petty human cares,

Uncaring of my fears and struggles,

Uncaring of the people I love,

And the precious moments that,

I have built over a life,

From bricks of pain and joy,

Will be robbed from me,

Like a child ripped from it's mother's breast.

If not by age and inevitable senility,

Then by Death, the ultimate democracy.

Spider's Life.

Spiders are not something that I am frightened of. I have many in my room, spinning their tiny webs, and occasionally crawling on me. I've been bitten a great many times. The worst was probably a red back bite, which was alike to having a very, very bad cold. People say they kill you but they really don't. I never even took any anti-venom. The upshot of being bitten by little mostly harmless spiders is that I don't really get sick anymore when I'm bitten by the nasty ones. I still get skin irritation, but that's about it. Female spiders are almost always larger than the males, often eating their mates after copulation, and then she is oftentimes eaten, willingly, by their resultant offspring.

Spiders cling, and spiders swing,

they drop their threads,

And they spin their webs,

Spider, spider, spin me a love,

Spider, spider fall down from above.

I watch the lady spider, cannibalize her mate,

And then as her babies hatch, she does only wait,

And the little babies spider,

They crawl out from inside her,

Their only birthday wish,

Is to eat her living flesh,

And that mummy of the spiders,

To them she happily obliges.

Murderers from the womb,

They can never kill too soon,

They spin their delicate strings,

And the spider's life, it sings,

It sings

It sings

It sings to me.

Foolishly Good.

I'll be honest with you. This performance frightens me a little.

Terrible Claws.

"The killer awoke before dawn,

He put his boots on.

He took a face from the ancient gallery,

And walked on down the hall,

He went to the room where his sister lived,

Then he paid a visit to his brother,

Then he walked on down the hall and

He came to a door and he looked inside,

'Father?'

'Yes Son?'

'I want to kill you.

Mother,

I want to murder you'"

The End, by The Doors.

I can't believe you don't believe me,

I can't sail you past that dead sea.

I can't really deal with what you've done,

And I am the only one, the only one.

I am not a sheep that you can sell my wool,

And I'm not likely to play the fool,

I can see through your hopeless eyes,

Though compared to Solomon, I'm not very wise.

But I'm not stupid, sir,

No, I'm not dumb, sir,

I can see, sir,

You seek to steal my soul, sir.

But my soul is mine, all for myself,

I keep It here up high on this shelf,

It wastes away and gathers dust

And at the joints does slowly rust,

But It's all mine,

And mighty fine.

You talons seek,

To tear my flesh,

Your eyes do peek,

At my skin so fresh,

I can hurt you if you hurt me again,

I can cause you unendurable pain,

I know things that will make you sweat,

I can say things you'll never forget.

So, come on, try me, with your terrible claws,

Because you've not met a thing like me before.

Why Can't I Just Have A Nice Normal Day?

I'm going to complain now, so if you're Jason or someone who doesn't like it when I complain, which is perfectly warranted, don't read this one. I'm going to do some poetry tonight anyway so you can read that when its done.

I didn't have a good day today. I've concluded that I will never, ever be an explorer. I just can'y cope with doing things, and dealing with my brain problems. I'm pretty sure that I was pissing off Liam no end and he was just too nice to say.

I was just carrying along as one does, walking and talking with my friend, and my brain was exploding into multicoloured lightening shapes. I kept on thinking there was an octopus I needed to catch, then I started to get really agitated that people could see that I was tripping out for no obvious reason. Then the agitation turned into a fully fledged panic attack. I kept on trying to apologize for my behavior in completely the wrong way, because I just kept on describing what was happening and, I'm sure, was being extremely annoying.

So eventually I got on the bus to tuggeranong from civic. I've been to Sydney on a coach pretty often, but never have I been on such a long awful bus ride. It was all I could do not to scream at everyone that I hated them, and I don't even know why I felt that impulse. It was like being bounced around a pinball machine. I just held on tightly to my wallet and looked at a fly that was crawling up my sleeve to try to think about anything else other than the crazy fun fireworks that were exploding in my head. Even now, I still am feeling the after affects of it. It was like my mind was being pushed through a meat grinder, sewn back together very inexpertly, and pushed through the meat grinder again every five seconds. strange voices were calling out my name and weird clockwork ballerina music was not quite drowned out by David Bowie (hunky dory) on my iPod at full volume. Its days like this that make me want to go to a clean nice hospital and get some electroshock therapy.

So that's the end of my rant, I'm sorry if you read that, please continue to read my blog, it will have some better things on it soon. I just needed to get that off my chest and out of my head, and now I feel considerably better. Alrighty, cheerioh for now.

Underneath.

A philosophical idea that I read once was that a person's true value can be measured if they forget everything they know. What kind of a person would you be if, right now, all of your memories were erased? I don't think I'd be too ashamed of myself.

the underneath, the underneath

where the dirts seeps, feel the worm's breath

and where rocks dissolve, the leaves rot

Are all the things you've ever forgot

The underland, the underland,

where no one with a brain can stand,

Is glorious, contented and empty of light,

And nothing there will cause you fright.

What kind of answers can you find,

When you body is lost along with your mind?

And you trudge along in the underland

And time can never take a hand?

Parrot.

There is an important difference between coming up was and original idea, or combining other ideas to create new thoughts, and just parroting things you hear or read.

Because being original is important.

And being clever isn't that hard. Or appearing to be clever, when you are just a parrot.

I'm not a parrot, I'm a sloth. I'm clever, I'm very clever. But right at this moment, I don't really care.

I don't care at all, I'm the sloth. And, as they say, apathy is deadly.

"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil,

is for good men to do nothing"

The Longest Night.

Its Christmas eve. Somehow I don't think I'll be too concerned about falling asleep before the fat man arrives this year. I never really believed in Santa Clause. In fact, I didn't ever believe in Santa Clause. Its not like I was born jaded and cynical, its just that mum always told me he wasn't real.

Thousands of years ago, the people of ancient Europe would sacrifice an animal in the midwinter, on the darkest day of the year, when the night was longest, and pray that by their sacrifice the sun would rise again. Because if the sun did not rise, it would be for them, the Apocalypse.

And when the sun rose, and the animal's blood covered the snow, red on white, they would rejoice that once again, their sacrifice was accepted. With their stone knives, they would cut strips of flesh from the carcass and roast them over the fire. And for that whole day, they would dance and eat and revel in the simple joy that they were not dead, that the eternal night had not claimed them.

That's Christmas. Dreadful, inescapable mortal fear, and then simple joy that life exists and that you aren't dead.

If only we could experience such a thing, every year, huddled together for warmth on the longest night, with the elements raging around us, then perhaps we'd all remember the true meaning of Christmas.

Eating All The Egg But The Shell

Train 1: Damn and bother.

There is a lot of noise and complication right now. I'm having difficulty thinking without being distracted, or annoyed or tired or something. I wish I could articulate how it is that I'm feeling.

Its like being in a glass bottle, trying to shout out at the world to make things happen. Everything is distorted, everything is too difficult to make happen. That isn't really right, but it will do.

I know that really, I'm just a person, not more important than anyone else. But I value myself, because I know myself, not completely, but probably better than anyone else. I also care about myself and my survival, because that what I'm programmed to do. I'm a human you know.

Train 2: One can't be something one is not.

Humans are funny things, and just like Taylor in "Planet of The Apes" I would be willing to travel the universe to find a better kind of creature, but once I found it, I would probably be more likely to side with my own kind that it.

If I could, and if I was a brave enough, I think I would like to be a disembodied consciousness, impartial and without bias to humans or any other kind of creature. I think that would be the only way to truly see what it is that humans are in the end. Whether we are dumb, or smart, great or weak, kind or savage. Its hard to say, impossible I would say, when I observe them as a section of them.

Train 3: This could be allegorical or it could be literal.

Its pretty hard to think through all this smoked glass sometimes, but writing is easy. I just write things, and if they don't make sense, I delete them.

When I eat eggs, I never eat the shell. I've never tried. I always just assumed that the shell is no good to eat. I suppose I'll never know. Unless I try, which I won't. Do I need to try it? I doubt it will enhance my life in some amazing way. So what? I've never eaten the egg shell? So what?

I've never not tried something I thought was a good idea.

It is times like this, that I just lie here, and hold my knife, and don't know how to feel. But if I need to do something, I've got my knife. I can solve all manner of physical problems a stronger person couldn't, if I have my knife. It's true. In the past, I have.

Would You Mind At All?

Hello person reading my blog. I'm not being vague and asking questions to the universe now, I'm talking right to you. If you are person who commonly reads my blog, it probably means that you either like it, or you like me. If you like me, I would like to know why, I suspect it is because you find me a friend, or perhaps amusing, or comforting in someway. These are my guesses. If you like my blog, I would also like to know why. And, if you like me because of my blog, I would especially like to know. So, if you wouldn't mind, please message me on Facebook, private messages are fine, if you would like me to know who you are, and if you don't want me to know who you are, go to my anonymous questions website, http://www.formspring.me/Qwozle and leave a brief answer.

Something, too, that I would like to know is how many followers I really have. I know that the people on the side there may not actually follow my blog, and there are a few people who do quite diligently follow my blog who are not in my followers list there on the side.

As always, if you are entertained or at least momentarily un-bored by what you find here, don't feel obligated to message me at all. Its completely free, and as much for my benefit as yours.

Thankyou and cheerioh.

Trilemma.

The Lewis' Trilemma. That's what I've got people.

I have defiantly seen things that are what one might call impossible. So you've got three things that you can believe, and two that I can.

1) I'm a liar. However, I know I'm not lying. Obviously you can't be sure, but I know.

so for me that leaves two possibilities.

2) The experiences are the result of mental illness.

3) The experiences are genuine.

I have to say, I think that the possibility that I'm insane is just as likely as it being true. I'm usually quite coherent, and these things that have happened to me in moments not of trouble but in moments of coherency. So really, the way I logically see it, is that each is equally possible.

I've got this stuff organised. I'm as ready to accept No. 2 as No. 3. And I don't know which I'd rather have be correct. No. 2 means that I'm all the things that I sometimes think I am, and No. 3 opens up very, very frightening possibilities.

Batman

I love batman. I suppose I'm a geek, but there is a good reason. And I'll tell you why.

Superman has heat vision, he can travel super fast and is super strong. He is invulnerable to bullets. And most importantly, everyone loves him. He isn't human, he isn't subject to any kind of human weaknesses. His heart and motivations are truly and completely pure. He is a really, really good person. At certain points in the comics, he even is worshiped as a God, and is considered immortal.

Batman, he doesn't have any powers. In the comics, he comes up with the ideas for all his gadgets. Nobody really likes him unless they have just been saved by him, mostly people are incredibly frighted of him. He's really smart, and pretty tough, and he has an armored suit, but at the end of the day, he is only a man. He has loads of issues, mostly focused around the death of his parents, and the audience isn't always sure if he is doing the right thing because it's right, or because he just hates bad guys and is insane himself. He can be arrogant, paranoid, egoistical and unjustly suspicious.

Batman, in other words, is a human. He is only capable of the kind of things that humans can do. He can't stop time, he can't shoot lightening, he can't run faster than sound, yes, he does have his tech, but he doesn't have any futuristic things, and most of his gadgets would be possible if you had billions of dollars. Yet not only does he keep up with the other superheroes, he bests them. He knows everyones' weaknesses, and get gets the job done.

Batman, though only a mortal guy, is capable of phenomenal things. That's why I like him. He is the ultimate mortal.

Chill Out.

What are you afraid of?

I won't hurt you, I don't ever hurt.

But don't you know, You should be mine,

So why are we wasting all this time?

So chill out, and lets go,

Let's stay cool and slow,

But don't waste time,

No, don't waste time,

When you know so well,

You should be mine.

Whats the stress for?

It won't happen

Like it did before,

Not anymore,

Like before.

You always worry,

And make your mind bleed,

You understand,

There's just no need,

So take my hand,

C'mon, lets go,

Life's too short,

If you make it so.

Ask my friends,

I'm a nice guy,

There's just no point,

To all your "why?"

We can make it chill,

We can make it sweet,

Just hold you nose,

And follow your feet.

Dive in, just do it,

Let's go get to it.

Let Us Slowly Tumble.

In the desperate slow tumble that are our lives,

We can do nothing but cling,

To tiny moments of solidarity,

That tumble along with us,

To try mask the truth.

The truth is these things,

There is no solidarity,

Even our mighty earth,

Who breaths and shakes,

Who knows nothing of humanity,

Is only a spec in an endless void.

And not the humdrum everyday endless,

That will eventually end after all that now is,

Is forgotten,

The type of endlessness that is infinite,

And doesn't know what an end is.

The meaning of everything is impossible to know,

And not the everyday humdrum impossible,

That can actually be achieved,

By working a thousand slaves for a thousand years,

And making the kind of technology,

That anyone alive would call magic,

The kind of impossible that the imagination,

breaks upon, like ice upon concrete.

And the truth is, is that everything ends,

And love is only an illusion,

And that lives are a cheap stage trick,

And that we are but a brief spark

And the greatest tragedies, songs, and feats of engineering,

All the noblest sentiments, and funniest moments,

Can only be swallowed up by the oncoming black.

And knowing all this makes me feel good.

Kissing.

In western culture, kissing is seen as a sign of affection. But the reasons for doing it, apart from the fact that it is enjoyable, are not widely known. But as with many apparently inexplicable behaviors, it does indeed have scientific basis.

Kissing is hypothesized to be a form of immune boosting. When saliva is transfered from the typically taller male to the female by gravity, it increases the womans immune response to foreign germs. This is to help to combat sickness during and before pregnancy.

Also is the possibility that by exposing her to his oral bodily fluids, it increases the likely hood of the males spermatozoa being accepted by the female's body after copulation, however this is less probable.

Some cultures, specifically aboriginal African and Australian cultures, did not engage in the activity of kissing until it was introduced by European settler. This shows that it is not an instinctual but, in fact, a learned behavior.

It is perhaps a vestigial behavior in our modern world, but it is fun to engage in and potentially even beneficial.

The Bloodless Revolution Of Joel

Some people say that I have changed. I suppose in certain ways I have. But not in the ways many of you think. It is true that a younger me would have despised my behavior, ethics and world-view. Despite what some say, I am a complicated person, something that anyone who has read my blog will be able to tell you.

When I was ten, this is what I thought about the world:

The world is six and half thousand years old.

Gay people are immoral and should be shown the error of their ways.

Atheists are out to spread lies.

Please forgive me. I was ten.

These are my current thoughts about the world:

The world is several billion years old.

Gay people are just people, no more sinful than anyone.

Atheists are probably indifferent to me.

A younger me would have said that I have become corrupted by the evil of this world and that I have become exactly what I was afraid of becoming. But that is just the thing. When I was younger, I was afraid. I was so afraid. I was afraid that the big bad world would get me, that I would loose my faith in God at the slightest turn of the wind. I was a fragile person, ready to collapse under the weight of my problems.

I have become more than this. I am capable of greater things, and I am certainly not as afraid. I still hold all the beliefs that I had when I was younger, but for a few that I never really believed anyway. I couldn't change the world by thinking it so, so I changed my thinking. I already believe something that is intrinsically contradictory, so why not think a few more? The double think was the greatest thing that has ever happened inside my brain. Quantum Mechanics, Gotta love 'em.

I realize that this blog post probably won't make any sense to you, a casual reader, but tonight I didn't write for a casual audience. I wrote it for myself of the future. And when I read it in the future, my thoughts about the world will have changed. And it isn't corruption. Its growth. And I accept you future me. I accept you as the me of the past wouldn't have. And that is how I know I have grown.

Sometimes We Are All...

Non-Conformity.

Quite some time ago, it was at the end of term, I was at Tuggeranong interchange. Also there were some other people of my acquaintanceship, with their long boards (like a skate board for those who may not know). They where discussing the pros and occasional cons of their loverly long boards. I said this to Liam who was there:

"Wow, now I really want a long board, so I can be all like everyone else."

Liam (And I hope he is reading this) replied with:

"You know, for a non conformist, you really like conforming"

I laughed and said, "I'm not a non-conformist!" thinking he was poking fun at me.

He then rattled off a list of things that I have done,

"I'm Joel and I wear only black,

I'm Joel and sing in public places,

I'm Joel and I carry a knife,

I'm Joel and I'm going to grow just one thumbnail,

I'm Joel and for lunch I'm going to eat sauce!"

For a moment I stood there slightly dumbfounded. I was genuinely surprised. I had indeed eaten a can of spaghetti sauce for my luncheon not five days prior. All the other allegations are also true.

However it really surprised me that he thought of me in that way. It wasn't my intention. I have never set out to be deliberately different, I just do things, and it turns out that way.

If you don't do something, just because everyone is, or you do do something, because everyone isn't, really you are just filling a necessary groove yourself. So, intentional non-conformism is really just a new type of conformism.

If everybody started singing in public places, I would in no way stop. And if everybody grew their hair long, I would not cut mine. And Goddamn it, if everyone drank coles cola, I would damn well still drink it. Unless the increased demand made it more expensive. Then I would choose a cheaper brand. It all tastes the same anyway.

The point is, is that true non-conformity is being yourself regardless of whether everybody else is or not. And I would say that is what I do.

Its Odd.

I fit into this role,

Like a key into its hole.

And I have considered before,

This is what I'm made for.

Perchance A Noble Battle of Fisticuffs Sir?

Well, what say you blaggard? Or have you not the manhood?

Juggernaut.

Humanity is the dominant life form of this world. If you count it in destructive capabilities it is undebatable. We have killed so many other animal and plant species that we can easily be categorized as serial genocide maniacs. But I digress.

Humans are powerful for a few reasons.

The first: Advanced intellect, particularly planning and abstract thought.

Humans are capable communicating and thinking about things that don't exist, aren't literally happening and things that could potentially happen if certain courses are taken. As far as can be told, no other animal is capable of all of these things, and only a rare few are capable of just one or two. Frontal lobe bitches.

Anyway. The second thing is: Tool use.

Coupled with our first skill, this simple thing becomes highly powerful. It leads to technology and if anything will enable mankind to conquer the universe and discover it's mysteries, it is technological advances. Writing is only possible because of hands, and writing has lead to science, computers, mathematics, all kinds of things.

And the third: Cooperation.

Humans can, at least in part, work in a unified whole. One person can be as to nothing. An entire nation with a single goal are a powerful and terrible thing.

All these three things working in harmony to produce the horrible machine that is humanity, crushing all opposition in its wake. A bit melodramatic? Ask the dodo what it thinks.

In the bible, God stops humans from working in a cohesive whole when they attempt to construct "The Tower of Babel". The tower, though not as impressive as modern skyscrapers, is a symbol of humans' capabilities when our three skills work together totally unhindered. We could have become Gods ourselves before our time, when still weak in other aspects. And He says in the bible that "I, The LORD your God, Am A Jealous God" Meaning that he will tolerate the existence and worship of only one God. So God scatters humans and changes their languages from one to many, so they have arguments and do not work together in their entirety.

I have no doubt that humanity will eventually build space elevators and trans-dimensional travelling machines. And on the dark day that humanity finally defeats the limitations of its single star system and colonizes new ones, I will be rolling in my eons old grave.

I am both proud and ashamed of my species.

A Brief History Of Joel

So, tonight I can't sleep and when I can't sleep, I blog.

I've decided that I shall write or attempt to write, a short autobiography. I doubt that it will be anything new to my close friends, but to people who have only known me for a short time, well, it might be interesting and a little informative. I doubt you will believe that some of it is true.

I was born in Melbourne in a hospital I assume, and was given the name "Ray Hollands" by my father, after his. I was also given the name "David Hollands" by my mother, which naturally caused a slight kerfuffle given that my father had a different name lined up. But after what I can only assume was a very nice and completely reasonable argument, they both decided that if they couldn't give me their chosen name, then they would pick the most ridiculous name they could think of. Thus I was named "Joel Bartholomew Brian Hollands".

The newly named Joel lived in a house in a place called "Fern Tree Gully" with his two years older sister and mother and father. I've never been there since then, and I can't remember anything about it whatsoever, as we soon moved to Sydney for reasons that I can only assume seemed like a good idea at the time.

Mostly my life can be measured in Jackets. I've always felt a special attachment to that particular piece of clothing.

Early Child-hood:

THE GIANT RED JACKET I THOUGHT WAS GOING TO EAT ME WHEN I PUT IT ON.

Mum bought me this jacket, second hand, that was meant for a much larger boy. Bright red, I thought that when I put it on it would one day swallow me up and I'd never be seen again.

I can remember very little of my childhood before 7, but lets just say it was "defining".

but after 7 this is what I've got for you. My childhood home in Milperra Sydney was built alongside a golf course. Golf balls regularly flew in through the windows and glass went everywhere, it was awesome. The number of roof tiles we had to get replaced due to golf balls bordered on ludicrous, and the roof repair man had what I can only assume a very profitable trade out of the golf course manager who paid for the damages to all the houses.

I went to church every Sunday untill I was 9 at "Panania gospel chapel". Though right now, I do believe in and love God, it was of absolutely no thanks to that place. The sermons and singing was more covered in dust than the uncomfortable pews, and the population of the church had an average age of 90. Sunday school was as dull as broken clock. What we mostly did there was memorize bible verse after ceaseless bible verse and I, being quite good at memorizing things even then, was often called up and told to recite. Occasional amusing intentional changes to the bible made the children laugh and caused a lot of frowns to the teacher.

Example: "The Lord is my shepard's pie, I shall not be in want of pie"

(which is the kind of humor that children sitting in a hot shed reading quite dull things on a sunny Sunday afternoon really, really appreciate.)

I went to school at Sutherland shire Christian school. I learned some things, like how to get bullied and how to not do maths very well. My first best

friend was Matthew McAllister, blonde and ratty, we had plenty of shenanigans, like eating everyone else's sandwiches and provoking bees. His parents could not afford to continue to send him to a private school however, so Matthew left Sutherland shire for a public school. My hair began to change colour when Matthew left, from light brown to darker, and with the absence of my friend I was a fat little boy that nobody liked because he was "weird" and "stupid".

I haven't seen Matthew for many years, but I know from a family friend that he is an apprentice carpenter now. I don't know if we would still get on, but I wish him only the best.

Later Child-hood:

THE GREY HOODY THAT REALLY DID NOT SUIT ME EVEN SLIGHTLY.

Mum once again is responsible for this purchase, and even though I loathed it, I had to wear it when we first went to Canberra because I was so damn cold.

When I was 9 my mother and father separated for reasons that I can't write down. suffice to say, my dad went to Queensland and mum had to work back to back shifts nursing, so that she could feed her two children. My mother's mother (affectionately know to us as "Granpy") looked after me and my sister while mum was working, at her house in Revsby. My grandmother was the first person I have ever met that was not a Christian, she was agnostic, being unwilling to believe in anything she couldn't see, but not willing to deny the existence of something that her daughter, late husband and sons did believe in so very fervently.

When dropping us back at her daughter's home one evening, she discovered mum lying convulsing on the carpet of her room. She had been there three days, unconscious and in seizure. Ambulances were called and it was discovered that mum had a brain tumor in the front left of her brain, a "Glioma" I think it was called which induced this violent seizure. The tumor, though relatively small, had tentacles stretching out, making it difficult to remove. If mum survived the operation on her skull, she would probably never speak again.

I never remember being afraid for my mother. I do however remember this odd thing. I was living with my mother's brother on the 13th floor of a high rise apartment building in Sydney. I and my sister had been told that mum was very very sick, and that she might die. My sister, who was exhausted because she was helping somewhat more that I had been, being older, with the organisation of clothes and suchlike was very much asleep. Our Uncle and Aunt were also asleep. I was completely incapable of such a thing, and went to the kitchen, being hungry.

In the kitchen was a man. I can't describe to you what he looked like, but he was very tall, taller than my father, because he had to stoop in the low ceiling. He said to me, "Joel, don't worry, everything will be fine". He made me a bowl of cereal, which I ate, I said "thank-you" to the man. He sat with me while I ate it, then he washed up my bowl and spoon, dried them, put them away, and left my uncle's apartment. I then went to bed and slept the night through.

I don't know if this man really existed or not. I am the first person to admit that I am not entirely in ownership of all my marbles. However, I find it hard to believe that I could hallucinate a full stomach and a bowl of cereal, "Just Right " cereal or maybe cornflakes, I think it was, so very completely. I don't know exactly what happened that night, and you don't have to believe me if you don't want to.

Mum made a full recovery from the surgery, but has some residual scar tissue and a hole in her brain. She has epilepsy as a result which and she takes medication for it. After chemotherapy and radiotherapy and seven years of scans of her brain, there has been no regrowth of the tumor. The doctors say that it is extremely uncommon recovery and next year she will be officially cured. Or was that this year? I'm a terrible son.

Anyway. We moved to Canberra after a brief stint my dad's mother's home, (she had died some years ago) with him in it. This house was eventually sold and the profit was split between me, my sister, dad, mum and dad's brother. My dad still lives in Sydney in Revsby. I go up to see him now and then.

When we moved, I went to trinity Christian school in Canberra.

Early Adolescence:

THE BLUE JACKET THAT LOOKS KIND OF LIKE HARRY POTTER'S IN 'THE PRISONER OF AZKABAN' MOVIE.

I picked this one out after I threw out the hoody for being too horrible. I still have it, it is much loved and full of holes.

Trinity is an odd school. It claims to do certain things, does others. It builds far to many buildings on too small an amount of land. Also I hated it.

I only hated it because I had to do things there I despised.

The thing I hated most about trinity was the shoes. God I hated those fuckers. I went through one pair every six months, just after they started to be comfortable, and start to fall to bits. Useless, useless shoes. I never tied up the laces, I didn't see the point.

I made a few very, very good friends there. A few people were casually cruel, but, even though I was no longer fat, I was still weird. So it makes sense.

It was in this time that I discovered that in certain mental faculties I am less than what one would call normal. I always kind of guessed that you aren't supposed to hear voices in your head but, well, I it really sort of cinched it for me when I found out exactly how it was that I was different, and at first I freaked out a bit, but I'm okay with it now. I don't take any medication for personal reasons, and I cope with it by blogging. And breathing. And painting. And occasionally not coping.

There isn't a lot to say about trinity. I had a great drama teacher, who is awesome, particularly in the production of "Arsenic And Old Lace". Also of note was my Sose teacher, equally epic, but different. If either of you are reading this, thank-you very much for teaching me, particularly when I didn't want to be taught. But, ah, I hope Mr S. isn't reading this, because if he is on my blog, I need to erase all the swearing and other things of that nature. I'm pretty sure my other teacher is both more likely to be reading this, as I think his daughter is one of of my occasional followers. Also I don't think he'd give a damn that I use the f word on my blog.

But of far greater note was one of my maths teachers. Oh yes.

Names hidden naturally, but this teacher was one in a stupidly large number. and this was why. She didn't teach us anything. Ever. I cannot remember one single thing in a years worth of private education.

To teach us the 'box and whisker plot' she wrote the definition of Box and the definition of Whisker and expected us to get on with it. She gave us phenomenally long breaks that many students did not come back from at all.

We spent all our time burning things with a magnifying glass, which she never ever ever noticed.

My whole book for that year is just full of cartoons and scribbles and elephants with top hats.

She would leave the class mid-lesson and not come back, seem to not care that we were talking one minute, then shout at us all to be quiet the next.

Once in her class she told us the plot of "the lion king" for a double lesson.

On another occasion, raising my hand I told her that I had a headache, and that I wanted a panadol from sick bay. She responded with "Yes Joel, you are sick. This whole country is sick, and it is only with Jesus' help that it can be healed." which left me confused and still with a headache.

A great many things happened in that maths class. None of them maths.

After year ten I moved from trinity to Tuggeranong College. And I can say without hyperbole that it was the most fun I have ever had in my entire life.

Later Adolescence:

THE 'JOEL JACKET', BLACK, COMPLETE WITH COLOURFUL BADGES.

This Jacket I picked for its huge internal pockets and the colour (black). I wore it every day for 6 months. I shoved all sorts of things into its pockets and covered its front left with badges from land-speed records and song-land. Oh how I loved it. Towards the end it was held together with gaffa tape and regular sewing.

Tuggeranong was a much needed change from trinity. For the first time in my life I could go places, eat tasty things, see people, have fun and generally be an ill behaved young hoodlum.

I met lots of highly fascinating people at tuggers, some of whom found me equally fascinating. I did certain inadvisable things that I hope my mother never finds out about. However I would like to say that I have not yet ever tried any recreational chemicals. Apart from home brand cola. Damn that stuff is good.

One of my favorite aspects of school there was art. I have always loved to make things, and then it was that I realized that I could possibly make money from my apparently useless talent. Not much money, no. But some. I swanned around that art room like I owned the place and no body really argued. Painting after painting was churned out by my paint brush under the vague guidance of my brain. And some of them I'm even slightly proud of.

A friend of mine, at the beginning of the year, showed me his blog, "My Thoughts In Yellow Panels". Inspired, I started my own blog, which I called "The Sky Sailor's Handbook". The above picture, The Flying Ship, I have always loved. I have a bizarre attraction towards ships. I think if I ever actually sailed on own my feelings would be quite different. Next to my signature in many of my paintings, there is a little ship.

Right Now:

THE TRENCH COAT OF TERRIBLE DOOM.

I purchased this coat from a friend who was working in the shop, and he gave me staff discount. It was $32. It is long, black, woolen and I feel so very swanky when I wear it. What a tool I am.

So that's pretty much it. It isn't my whole life, but that's about as much as I could fit in without my fingers snapping off onto my keyboard. If you got to the very end, I'm impressed, also I'm sorry because you are probably bored to TEARS. And it only took one sleepless night to write. So, cheerioh, Thanks for reading, and tune in next time for more bloggotry.

Joel Trivia:

Joel likes his steaks very rare.

Joel's watch is the most valuable thing he owns.

Joel's tobacco tin belonged to his great grandfather.

Joel does not celebrate Christmas, he celebrates Hogswatch.

Joel's favorite colour is brown.

Joel has a hat, he just never wears it.

In this past year, an estimated 13o liters of cola was consumed by Joel. That's right. One hundred and thirty liters.

Joel has never had any problems with his teeth.

The Hammer Of Thor.

If I Were Aways As I Am Now.

If I was always happy, would you love me more?

Would you prefer it that I were never sore?

Never hurt, never tired, always living, always grand.

Would you love me better, if on the sun I could stand?

If I were always the best I could be

Would you never chastise or leave me?

If I were always as I am at this moment,

Would you stay with me, without discontent?

Cunning Folk

Its five in the morning. I can't sleep. There is something in my ceiling. I think it might be a rat.

I'm going to sleep now.

"And they said, let us make ourselves anew, let us reshape this clay that we are made of, that we may see the night with cunning eyes like that of owls"

I can see them in my mind's eye. Its wonderful.

Happy Rant.

Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. You handsome man, whatever will I do with you? I think I'll just have to marry myself, settle down, have a few Miniature Mes and sit back on a rocking chair and drink iced sherbet while watching sunsets.

I'll tell you a few things I love.

I love Terry Pratchett. He is awesome. He is funny, full of insight and very quotable.

I also love Neil Gaiman and H.P Lovecraft. Neil because he is along a similar vein to Terry Pratchett, while not being quite as good, and he's is just so damn cool.

Lovecraft just speaks to me. Its like we just randomly met, hit it off, and now we're going to dance the night away in Rio. Or failing that, some kind of sunken ancient city filled with echoes of dark sacrifice and dripping with mysteries better left untouched by man. Either.

Anyway. Apart from authors, I really love girls. They're just so damn pretty. Apart from David, I mostly like hanging out with the girlie kind. Its like intelligent conversation + smexyness. And yes, I do think these thoughts female friends, I'm sorry. Your company is like eating ice cream while reading Charles Dickens. Goddamn amazing.

Oh. I also love Charles Dickens. He goes on a bit, yes, but his stories just fill your brain.

Ice cream too. I'm a skinny bastard, but its not through my own efforts.

My swiss army knife! I love that thing. So damn useful. Driving loose screws, pinning up paintings, cutting cardboard for painting, the odd spot of shaving, clipping fingernails, getting stuck things out of nooks, electrical tape sniping, and just over all saving the day Joel type things.

And I mentioned painting didn't I?

Ye Gods. I don't think I've ever made a post just about painting, but then I've never made a painting about blogging. Well, I love it. If I knew where my art book or my brushes where I'd be doing it right now.

Painting... its like... kind of like blogging actually. Only way more sensuous. Its like, you are king, and the cardboard is everything else. Well that metaphor was kinda lame but, I love painting.

MY DOC's! Nearly forgot them. Greatest boots. Definitely the best shoes I've ever had. they have got my feet safely home where many a shoe would have given up. Also a nifty side effect, they make me that little bit taller. Sometimes I wear them when I sleep.

Well those are just a few of the things, not people, just things, that I love. I also love quite a few people. Authors don't count as people. They should, but they just don't for some inadequate reason.

If you are reading this, I probably love you. Because you are reading my blog. And that means a lot to me. Thank you.

The Dog.

People call you the "dog" and I guess you are kind of like a dog.

You're my dog. My horrible, horrible dog. You piss on the floor of my personal relationships, I have to take you everywhere, You bite me, you hurt me and you are such a nuisance. You ruin good days, and you make bad days hell.

But you know what?

At the end of the day, I fucking own you. Not the other way around. I own you. I am your master.

So suck on that. Unfortunately there isn't much revenge to be had against something that doesn't really physically exist.

On the plus side, I feel awesome tonight.

This Is Why I Love Toria.

†ø®¡å says:

I like my noes

nose...

which one is right?

Joely says:

Nose

lol

†ø®¡å says:

Thats the one

Blonde moments

happen alot even though I have brown hair

well... purple.

So Much Awesome

Damn You.

So, God apparently hates gay people or "faggots" as they sometimes like to be called by those delightful people who wave signs that encourage mass suicide.

The (apparent) basis for this blind stupid hatred is the bible. I've read the bible. Its a good book in my opinion. But here are two of the very, very few verses that discuss homosexuality:

Leviticus 18: 22 - Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman, that is detestable. NIV

Puts it pretty blatantly there. But it also says...

Deuteronomy 23:1 - No one whose testicles are crushed or whose male organ is cut off shall enter the assembly of the Lord.

I don't see any "God hates the Dick-less" signs. Also, I don't really get what God was getting at here.

Matthew 5:28 - But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

Ever thought about boobs, ever? You have? Well, time for a stoning.

The time when these verses were written was a very different time. People just did not have the society development that we had now. People didn't get married because they loved each other, they got married because it was the law. Men who had sex with each other were not in love, they just had sex. Love is an abstract concept only invented relativity recently in human history.

And so the bible says nothing at all about gay men being married as, back in the day, they didn't want to.

One of the most important lessons that Jesus gave was defying rules that serve no purpose. the purpose of these rules was to prevent diseases that were killing many, many people. Damn good rule.

And in this day and age when we have the advanced space technology known as the "condom" I see no reason why we should not abandon the rules that now serve no purpose.

No, condoms are not 100 percent protection from disease. Neither is life.

Here is my favorite verse from the bible:

Love one another as you would love yourself.

If you were attracted to a member of the same gender and could do nothing about this attraction, would you want someone screaming at you that you were going to hell?

I have many friends who are Christians, and the tolerant ones when pressed, will usually say something like "love the sinner, hate the sin". And the intolerant ones will probably wave a sign in their spare time. But they don't hate lesbians, funny that.

But quite honestly, this isn't about sin. Its about hating people who are different and using the bible as an excuse. We've done it before. Spanish crusades, holy wars, all that stuff.

So basically here is my opinion in a nutshell:

Gay people are people who are attracted to members of their gender. Due to a quirk of genetics perhaps, perhaps not, it doesn't matter. They are no more evil or sinful than any man who has ever existed but one.

Gayness is no longer sinful. Our culture has evolved. I eat pig, I'm friends with atheists, I talk back to my mum. All of these things deserve a stoning, so stone me too.

I Can't Do Everything

I would have built you a happy place,

Somewhere far out in distant space,

But the world it just doesn't do

Always what you need it to,

I'm sorry I'm not the way you'd have me be,

But wishing it so won't make anyone free.

You dumb dumb boy,

With all your toys,

If life's just a game,

Then why have a name,

At all.

Different Shades of Vermin

I wrote this just now after I crushed a cockroach with my boot.

If someone would like to proof read this and correct it of grammatical errors and spelling mistakes and somehow send it to me I would deeply appreciate it. I just really can't be bothered.

Imagine a single cockroach hatches from its egg and emerges into the world.

What is remarkable about this cockroach (let us call him Adam) is that he has intelligence roughly equal to that of a human being. He breeds highly successfully with the other cockroaches passing on this bizarre mutation to his offspring. These cockroaches, though still as short lived as any insect, multiply and grow, and due to the very great number of members that each generation of cockroaches has, in only a few generations, (that is, five years) the cockroaches have buried deeply into the earth and built for themselves a rudimentary society based on hunting (small mammals and other insects) and gathering (food refuse from humans and such things).

In fifty years and many generations the cockroaches have a culturally advanced society, each individual capable of all the emotions of humans. The cockroaches have no Gods, a completely agnostic community, they believe only in the power of the Roach to ultimately survive all things as a species, be it from daily life to Armageddon. The Roaches, like many insects and unlike mammals, posses a vestigial 'hive mind' or empathetic link to all the other roaches in their community. This means that if only one very few of the specie survives then from this small number can be drawn the total of the communal knowledge.

This simple fact of their biology makes written word, pictographs and other recorded information unnecessary and therefore undeveloped. The roaches, instantly recognise the strongest, smartest and most able members of their hatching and are bread with the most. The weakest and defective members, though cared for by the hive and given tasks, are rarely bred with and quickly perish from the gene pool.

Small technologies are developed. Medicine and tools are manufactured by the roaches, chief among these being a exoskeleton lacquer that improves the roaches resistance to disease and injury, mandible sheathes that allow the insects to dig more easily into the rock of their earthen home without discomfort and the production of farming settlements of maggots and worms for the cockroaches to eat and milk.

The leaders of the roach community after another twenty years and many more generations of the colony at its cultural peak, leaves its vast underground city and moves to contact the humans who they clearly see as being powerful and advanced beings.

Naturally communication with humanity is difficult, but finally a rudimentary language is constructed after the roaches produce a type of Morse code with clicking. After the human scientists decode these messages from the roaches and encode their own messages and send them back to the Roaches.

There are a few relatively brief conflicts between the two species as the humans are difficult for the roaches to harm and the roaches are impossible for the humans to kill more than a few individuals with each attack.

Eventually the two types of creatures meld their resources. The humans benefit from the vast number of roaches in terms of workforce and the relative cheapness the roaches place upon their personal safety and lives. The roaches benefit from the humans' technology and knowledge of science.

Roaches and humans have their own internal civil wars, some roaches and humans fighting on either side, and generally spilling a lot of unnecessary ichor/blood respectively.

Thus the Earth becomes greater than the sum of its parts, it quickly discovers effective ways to colonize alien planets previously impossible, and the universe becomes slowly infected and tarnished by the combined might of these two highly disgusting animals.

I Guess He's An Xbox, And I'm More An Atari

So fuck you.

You People.

Today everyone has been telling me that they like me, or that they miss me. I was going to write a much angrier post but I stopped. I still have to tell you how I feel though.

Lots of people have been telling me that they like me.

I hate me.

I'm sick in my brain.

People seem to think that I'm valuable for whatever reason.

I'm really not your know.

I'd rather be alone.

I'm tired of feeling guilty.

It was very hard to make this post, because I feel so depressed.

No really, why do you people like me so much?

Its getting weird.

I don't understand what's going on.

I just want some ice-cream.

And for my head to stop hurting.

And an air conditioner.

And a movie, or something.

I Want You So Baaaaaaaaad.

The Human Condition Contradiction.

humanity is an odd being. Capable of both beautiful creation and disgusting destruction, we are truly contradictory creatures.

Take in hand Wikipedia. A completely nonprofit organisation run by just ten people who set base rules and deal with media, every other contributor is a volunteer. It has produced an incredibly useful tool that is vastly popular. True, it is occasionally apocryphal, but by and large, it is both correct and free. This I think is a testament to humanity's ingenuity and vision.

At the opposite end of the spectrum, is 4chan. This is humanity at its lowest, its most despicable. Filled with both disgusting material and questionable morality 4chan is the source of destructive behavior, horrifying in the fact that the perpetrators of these things are just "normal people". Though they do come up with amusing jokes and memes, even on occasion handing out a bit of justice, 4chan displays humanity's feral and savage default.

In our lives we will perform both actions good and bad. Perhaps the good will outweigh the bad, perhaps not. But in all probability knowing this will not change your actions or opinions. Its just pointless pondering.

Thieves Make Poor Friends.

A friend of mine had her iPhone stolen by her boyfriend. Personally, I think this is a rather odd thing to do. I'm not a thief, but if I were one and I planned to steal an iPhone, I would probably just steal it from someone I didn't know, didn't like, from the proprietor directly or someone who was just leaving the shop with one.

Stealing something from someone you know and like that can be easily found from somewhere else is just plain... stupid. Its dumb. He clearly did not think through such a theft.

And apparently, he only gave it back once she found out that he had it. Then she dumped him.

Theft isn't a clever thing. I know a girl who steals things from shops. I find myself having a distinct lack of trust for her, I'm always afraid that she is going to nick something from me or from my friends.

In truth you probably won't be caught, unless you are dumb, but when you become a thief, you lose integrity. It is a valuable thing, difficult to reestablish once lost.

Read This If You Like.

I wrote this on coast trip while everyone was playing prototype.

The night is like a sheet of dispair,

bringing cold and damp without thought or care.

But the brilliance of our local star,

Can still be seen near and far.

The flame burning within the people,

It rises high like a church's steeple,

Buildings fall, and faith remains,

Bodies fail, souls live on unstained.

Though soon my flesh shall be feast for worms,

I shall live on with my thoughts and words.

Plant Metaphore

Picture a group of plants and flowers green leaves, colourful petals. And they are nice enough.

But entwined in the plants and flowers is a weed, a brown and grey weed, covered in sharp thorns. And the weed has spiraled around the flowers and entwined its roots to the other plants, so ingrained it was that the other plants were at their base indistinguishable from the weed.

if you tried pulling out the weed you would just yank up the healthy plants with it.

I can't handle it anymore. I want to pull out the weed.

I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed. I want to pull out the weed.

I've just got to. I don't even care anymore.

What Do You Even Call That?

Just then, I had a hallucination, or a dream or a vision.

I saw a world, where every person I have ever know was walking and talking and being happy. my friends were laughing together, my sister was joyfully doing her hair, my mother was sitting down, highly relaxed in her dressing gown, with a cup of tea. My father was polishing his shoes, in that dreadful jumper he wears, with not a trace of unhappiness on his face. All the people I have ever known or touched in any way were so very, very happy. No worry or concern or guilt or conflict dogged their features. And there was only one difference between that world and the blighted one that we inhabit.

I wasn't there.

It was beautiful, it was wonderful. I had quite simply, failed to exist. And everyone I love was so very happy.

I want to apologize to the entire universe. Deep down from the bottom of my heart, I am so, so so, sorry. I cried for all the pain I've caused, and I cried that even if I stopped existing now by my own will, it would only cause more pain to this already stained world.

I know of course that this is all fantasy.

Epiphany Time!

You're wrong. You aren't obsessed with yourself.

You aren't obsessed with yourself, you are your own God. You are your religion. You believe in the power of you. No wonder you get so upset when people insult you, it would be like someone insulting Jesus to my face. And you sacrifice people's feelings at the at the alter of your own ego.

You've made your own religion. And it's you.

That is so fucking weird. Its so fucking awesome.

I wish I had as great an insight into why I do things, I still don't understand it.

Two More Things:

You are quite wonderful.

Every human believes in something.

Christmas.

Ba humbug.

Yes, its nearly that time of year again. Garish flashing seizure lights, unwanted family reunions, unvoiced complaints that wrong presents were got, a distinct lack of invitations to parties, summed up in two horrible horrible words:

Holiday Cheer.

Yuk. I hate Christmas. As a Christian, it is supposed to be a time when I celebrate the birth of Christ. I appreciate that, I really do. But let's be honest here, that isn't what our winter festival (summer in the southern hemisphere) is about, is it? Its about spending money and eating until you explode. The romans did it before they believed in Jesus, with all sorts of pagan mumbo jumbo.

In fact, it said in the bible to discard the old feasts and celebrations when you convert from Paganism to Christianity. But 2000 years later, they are clinging on.

I don't know. I just don't like it very much. In the past it hasn't been a happy time for me. And let's be honest, Santa Claus is bloody ridiculous.