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MarkusD
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Name: Mark
Country: New Zealand
State: Confusion
Birthday: 3/17/1986
Gender: Male
Interests: I'm not interesting enough to have interests... that would be hypocritical. It wouldn't be fair for me to be interested in other things, when I myself do not provide any material of interest for OTHER people to be interested in... right?
Expertise: Sure, whatever you say.
Occupation: Student
Industry: Art
Message: message meEmail: email me
AIM:  MarkusSillyness
MSN: markus__brutus@hotmail.com
Member Since:
4/17/2004
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| A hop onto the orbiter, a skip up victoria and a jump across the road will land one somewhere in the vicinty of Flow, an underground live music venue / bar in the central city area. I went there on Saturday, and it was FUN.
I had never been to a circle jerk before saturday, and I can safely say that my first shall not be my last. For those finding themselves befuddled as to elusive meaning behind the phrase, Hamilton's Circle Jerk is the coming together of a variety of local musicians. Tonnes of people are involved, and they all give each other a hand by not only playing two of their own songs, but covering each others' as well. Fantastic! The intention is to promote and support local bands, and my impression is that it is very effective. They got through to me, anyway. Three songs isn't very many, so the event is filled up with a large number of acts, all of whom have a limited but thoroughly enjoyable time on stage. Effectively the whole evening is a compliation album of Hamilton bands, only infinitely better for being live.
Twelve bands were billed, but well over that actually played, which I believe is a testament to the general radness with which the event is recieved and ran.
My favourites: The Shrugs, The Dusk, and Knights of the Dub Table. I heartily reccommend you have a listen to all three. It is a massively pleasant surprise to hear such a breadth of talent here in our oh-so-warm-and-snuggly city of Hamilton.
I can't say what kind of rating out of ten I'd give Circle Jerk, because that kind of rating is stupid. I have instead invented my own rating system, which is less logical, more arbitrary, and far less consistant than anything else. But at least its honest, right? This way of looking at it seems more logical to me than slapping a just as arbitrary number on it as if there were some absolute standard by which these things can be judged.
Stuff costs money, and the amount you pay is not always an accurate reflection of the entertainment value. It is the careful tension between these two forces that I intend to scrutinize.
So: How much bang for my buck?
Cost: $10
Payoff: Bloody awesome.
I would have been happy to pay much more than I did, and would happily pay for other people to come along if they would have otherwise stayed at home doing nothing. So my bang-to-buck ratio was very high.
Next year, come along.
-mark
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| According to [insert reputable source here], [issue x] can be explained by [profound statement of truth], which I am only now beginning to understand and apply to [situation y]. I agree with [reputable source]'s statement, but feel there are some ammendments to be made. Particularly with regards [sub-topic 1] and [counter-argument 1], both of which serve to dissemble a simple reading of [profound statement] by [reputable source].
Of course, that is not to debunk [profound statement] entirely. It has absolute buckets full of merit despite the aforementioned [sub-topic 1]. [Counter-argument 1] is usually explained away by [staunch supporter of reuptable source], asserting that the author of [counter-argument 1] is disreputable and cannot be trusted. However I feel there is truth in it regardless, due to reasons [1], [2]. and [3]. [3] is admittedly built on a bit of shaky reasoning (though makes a valid point [see tangent M], but [1] and [2] are quite reasonable, and probably better thought out than [supporter] might like to think.
[1] in particular is often attacked as being too [liberal / conservative] by [conservatives / liberals], which makes [conservatives / liberals] more convinced of their opponent's stubborn entrenchment in their [wishy washy / neo-fascist] ways.
Taken to its logical conclusion, [profound statement] cannot be true, however in [y] as in, [p], [q], [r], and [t], it hasn't proven to defeat itself by that logic, so I find myself unable to draw any kind of conclusion from that. I will be most disapproved of by [liberals / conservatives] for failing to choose the right side, and am even more condemned for failing to choose a side at all. I shall live out the rest of my existence in a state of [confusion / deflation].
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| The answer is no, I haven't seen Star Trek.
As a rule I hate Star Trek. This is less to do with any reasonable or justifyable gripe with the Star Trek itself and more because I am a bigoted Star Wars fan. There's only room for one favourite sci fi franchise in my way of thinking. However, Star Trek looks PFAA (pretty f--king awesome, aye) so I think it could be a turning point
I really think this movie might make me like Star Trek, which has me hesitant to watch it on account of then I'd like Star Trek, but I feel that part of being a forward-thinking, intelligent, open, honest Modern Man is absorbing all sorts of new experiences, no matter how depraved and revolting they may seem at first glance.
So I think I will see it.
Remember when we used to hang out on here, catching each other up on what we'd been doing that week or simply sharing our thoughts of the time? Mostly you and I don't catch up nearly as often as I'd like.
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| I love irony. She has been my ever constant companion for a good long while, and never ceases to bring a quietly reserved smirk to my face, a giggle, a titter, and occasionally a roar of laughter. It's lovely being done with something you've fretted over for a while. Especially something you've allowed your frettings to compound on by procrastination.
Philip Shorter and I have just presented our King Lear seminar, over which I have pored very little in terms of work and a conversely large amount in terms of stress and anxiety. Consider the implications if I ever reversed the trend and spent my energy doing work rather than stressing about the work I havn't done!
Anyway, following the last-minute dash that was our made up seminar, I feel as usual a very calm sense of 'Okayness' with the world. Suddenly there is no massive alien craft looming over my head like in Independence Day. A more appropriate analogy would perhaps be that I've got this massively heavy backpack on, and that during the semester I've picked up more and more bits of work that have weighed me down. Instead of doing the sensible thing and removing the bricks over a period of time I've waited until the last moment to jettison the lot.
I can tell you the relief is very enjoyable. Of course, my backpack is still quite heavy, I just don't have it on at the moment so I don't care. My present situation is that I am resting on the side of the track, sitting on my heavy backpack. The weight will return*, but for now I am happy to take a load off.
The irony is, in an incredibly round-about way, that our seminar was on Tragedy and how at the end of a tragedy we are meant (by Aristotle's reckoning) to feel a sort of catharsis; a cleansing or release of emotion. Some resolution is to be found and we are meant to be comforted by the tragedy we've just witnessed. You might say the tragedy for me is my own lack of discipline when it comes to university work, and the catharsis comes at the end of a particularly awful bout of self-hatred and anxiety.
It's not really catharsis, it's just relief. But it made for a nice little idea from which to begin this blog, so I am not going to complain!
Haere ra,
-mark
* It will return, in fact, when I finish this Xanga, because I have work to do that needs finishing today that I have not started.
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| We all sat in the bus, every face a mixure of solemnity and fear. Each of us had explosives strapped to us, though not in cartoon suicide-bomber fashion with sticks of dynamite and a ticking clock. They looked like giant flotation devices, the kind you might hold between your arms as you lie back in the pool. Not floaties. Not foam snakes. Something in-between. We were martyrs. Specifically we were the martyrs you got in the old school RTS game Dark Reign. Yeeeeeeeeaaaarrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhh!
No one knew their mission, but it wasn't relevant.
We filed off the bus into my bathroom and were issued with standard transparent 30cm rulers. We blew into them like breathalizers. Our rulers filled up to different lengths.
The bathroom and every bit of scenery dropped away. We hung in mid air, falling but remaining in the same place, as if in a wind tunnel. Our faces grew long brown beards and our clothes turned from green overalls into white robes. We looked like we're taught to believe Jesus looked.
When I woke up I was scared. I talked to Mum and decided I'd better start going to church again, in case when I blew into my 30cm breathalizer ruler I was found wanting.
I sat in the vestibule of the multi-purpose room at Piopio Primary School, playing with my lego. I had created a heap of Star Wars models out of whatever bits and peices I could find, and chased Tie-fighters with my X-wing. I heard a massive whining sound outside and overhead, and went to investigate.
Above me I saw three Tie-Fighters fly over. Knowing that I would be in danger for having created lego models of Alliance spacecraft I began running home. The world seemed in chaos around me as I sprinted up the hill towards my house. Before I reached it I came across my mother who was standing outside the Scout Hall taking pot-shots at helicopters with her pistol. She explained that normally she wouldn't do that sort of thing. She hit one, and another landed close to us and picked us up.
We sat in the helicopter and looked down over our house. There was a giant box with an open lid in the driveway where our car usually sat. The pilot handed me a bomb and said "You have to blow up your house by throwing the bomb into the box." I threw the bomb, but missed the box entirely. The helicopter went into a tail-spin, and crashed just near where the bomb had exploded. As I came to I realised this was my chance to escape. I saw Mum and ran to her, she was hurt. "Let's go!" I said, trying to lift her up. "I can't come with you. You have to go on without me" was her reply. To this day I can think of very few situations that make me more sad than the idea of leaving my Mother to die.
I ran up to my neighbours. I knew they were safe and would hide me. I knocked on their back door impatiently. Haley came to the door and said I could hide in the back yard. Looking behind me I saw that the yard was covered in thick thickets of thorns. I clambered my way to the far end of the yard, climbed over a fence into a small clearing and there, waiting for me, was Darth Vader.
I awoke.
I'm on my bike, peddling as hard as I can down my street which happens to be on a steep steep hill. Suddenly I realise I'm going to fast. My wheels start wobbling. I lose control, careening for the curb, and just as I am about to crash, I wake up.
It's funny that these occasionally disturbing dreams are the ones I remember most, and interesting that they all involve real-life locations and were (with the exception of the thorns in my neighbours back-yard) remarkably accurate. I remember my bathroom in the first dream being so like my own actual bathroom that it was scary. The run home from school to find Mum shooting down helicopters with a pistol (which is so like her) was bizarrely accurate too, as was my peddling at high speed in the opposite direction.
Dreams are funny things.
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