new bumper sticker or 2

classical music = calm

ok, much as it is underrated by the youth of todays society, classical music possibly surpasses every other form of creative expression for sheer nebulous, ecstatic, beauty. especially dame kiri te kanawa's performance of o mio babbino caro. in fact, puccini composition in general, but that song particularly. ooh, and the entirity of madam butterfly.

theres a classic for every occasion. youve got youre four impromptues for those light airy sorta moods, or rachmanonov for anger. or satie just cos. and opera, well, what more needs to be said. it just gives you this wonderful floaty feeling of wieghtlessness. or like youre swimming through an ocean of jelly blue jelly.

i will stop boring you all eventually with my transports of delight in something many of you consider irelenvant, or dont consider at all, but its unearthy beauty inspired me to take up pen and describe. it being easier to reach the computer from my place on the couch, i promptly gave up the pen and turned instead to the keyboard.

a million wonders of operatic delight to you all
rani

Bumper Sticker of the Week

i hate school. i hate life. i hate you.
that is all
goodnight

names

after a lifetime of despising my name, i have finally looked it up on the internet and thought better of it. ive long maintained that the worst and cruelest thing you can do to a child is to give it an unusual name. this, while seeminglycool at the tiime im sure, leads to endless psychological and administrative difficulties for said child, resulting in damage and a feeling of listlessness lasting their entire life. or at least thats my excuse. theres the whole problem of spelling to every single person you meet that most evil of names, cos they just cant seem to work out phonetics. and then having to explain where it comes from, in that ever so useful cover for the embarrassment of spelling it wrong in the first place. oh for a normal name. something that people can spell, and say. or so i thought.

i recently was so bored and desperate to procrastinate from writing a peice of creative fiction for a writing comp i dont feel like entering that i looked up the meaning of my name on one of those bogus meaning sites. the result was interesting, and just comfirmed to me that i should be worshipped by the vast majority of humanity. firstly, the masculine form of my name, kiran, means in sanskrit, sumbeam. ok, a promising beginning i thought, much better than the usual version of drunken eagle, not to mention its variations. i refuse to explain this, as most of you will understand anyway, and i choose not to degrade myself any more than is absolutely necessary. it then transpired that kira, in sanskrit, means aramanthan flower. i dont think aramanthan flowers would be anything much to look at, considering theyre stuck in some desert or other, but it still sounds pretty. kira is apparently the russian form of the english kyra. thats just cool cos its russian. i mean, come on, RUSSIAN. and finally, and my personal favourite, rani, again in sanskrit, means queen. that, i think counts as a clear indication that i was born to rule you. all of you. and on top of that, my mum actually named me when she had a sanskrit name of her own, and intentionally in that language, so it all works. bow, my minions, bow.

signed,
your exulted ruler
rani

bass again

for those of you who wanted to see, here is a very close approximation. while not being the real thing, rather some random bass i found on ebay, its pretty damn close.

evening all. how are we on this bright and sunny night?

id just like to ask any who atch any form of BBC programming, do you think that odd bird sound effect is just a little odd. its in everything. was in johnathon creek, midsummer murders, foyles war, miss marple and a litany of others, and its so so so crap. with all the techonolgy we have, cant they at least find a decent dying bird effect?

in other random news, this is the beginnig of the 'bumper sticker of the week'. although this may last only 2 or 3 wks, its at least something i can do with the time that i use to procrastinate from study. here is the first 1

and also, it must be noted that 'bumper sticker of the week' should be taken as a loose term. prbably the more correct version would be the 'bumper sticker from everytime i can be bothered or come across a particularly good one'.

ok, back onto the subject of naming my bass. ive found myself several options here. firstly, as suggested by the noble wiggler, barry white, for reason you can read on previous post comments, or jude, cos everyone needs a bass called jude. also, as veech pointed out to me, the name is borne by the saint of lost causes, which is a pretty gd reason to call NEthing jude really. or i could stick with the theme and name it after a great bassist as my guitars are named for great guitarists. again, suggestions welcome.

well, must go, places to be, worlds to dominate.

nite all

rani

my bass

i got my bass. YAY!

it took us an hr of driving to get there, all the way out to kinross. i gotta say, that is truly the sticks. at th end of this guys street was a national park, then the western desert. i mean, if bull creek is the sticks soph, then this is really woop woop. so far out that th road map shoulda said 'here be dragons' instead of 'national park'.

but now, i have a bass. all that now remains is to learn to play it. will expound its virtues further in subsequent entries after we're better acquainted, bass and i, but for now all that i'll say is that its black and beautiful.

nite all
rani

ps, still looking for a name for it, any suggestions welcome

im about to stop playing who shall i kill first in my head & just go with what feels natural

no matter what anyone says, you just gotta love black books. theres just nothing to match it. i think deep down we all long to be bernard. just kill to be that rude and callous. of, course, many of us are, but without the freedom that comes with it.

in other news, im trekking out to kinross on friday. why, i hear you ask, do i go to the back of beyond with no weapons but my quick wits and troupe of performing warrior monkeys? the answer is simple. i brave the dangers of these barbaric lands because somewhere in the heart of kinross lies my future bass. any who know of my worship for my guitar, and to a far lesser degree my harmonica, know exaclty what this noble quest means. am rather amped bout the whole thing really, and the warrior monkeys are too.

more to the point, i cant beleive i just constructed kinross as the barbaric troll dominion. just shows that selinas process of slow snobbification has worked. be proud. or worried. and more to the point, can you even have a snob who stops to manaically cackle in hallways?

speaking of which, if ever you have the chance to scare yr 8s and 9s, do it. doesn matter how, just do it. for example, selina and i terrified a group of youngsters by doing the mexican hat dance in the main school building the other day. then again by seeing her teach me to waltz. its fantastic. now they all give me awed/terrified looks in passing, and i get plenty of room on the stairs. this seemingly small thing is not to be lightly cast aside. without it it is very possible that you will be pushed by the insulent wenches over the stair rail, or be aggravated into throwing one of them over. in the past ive found the best defence to be to carry either a pointy metal ruler, a cross made from the sacred bark of the rowan tree, or a clove of garlic, depending on the year group in question. now these problems are virtually over, as most year groups now beleive that i am criminally insane. but theyre wrong. wanting to dig out the eyeballs of someone who annoys you with a pencil doesnt make you criminally insane......right?

well, seems it is time to turn in and read some soothing chapters of the scary militant power book before slipping into sweet, welcoming sleep.

g'nite all,
dream of infinite influence, bass guitar and my tribe of warrior monkeys nibbling at your toes
rani

top o th morning to you all. except it isnt morning. oh well, its the thought that counts.

now, ive been thinking for some time on all those little idioms on which our society is built. you know, the ones your grandparents say, and make you blush when you accidentally blurt one out in a public place. yeah, you know the ones i mean.

i was thinking on these peculiar little turns of phrase, and i fell to wondering where these could possibly have come from. dickens, of course, articulates this far better than i do, in a christmas carol:

Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the dearest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the similie; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the country’s done for.

anyhow, after that little literary interlude, ill get back to my point shall i.

the one that has particularly interested me for a while now is the phrase "you'll catch your death of cold" (usually uttered in fussy tones by a grandmother or similar elderly female relative). its not the cold bit that gets me, but the idea that you could catch your death. if you could catch your death, you could keep it in a jar on your mantlepiece. what a conversation opener! can you imagine? "thats a peculiar ornament marjorie" "oh yes florence, its just my death in a jar" and so on. what a wonderful world in which idioms were for once acted in their true glory!

on a completely different tangent, everybody should see showboat. while it does seem to drag on indefinately, and all the while you have to put up with the ever annoying kathryn grayson, it is a completely fantastic musical. not to mention a watershed in the genre, and the first of oscar and hammerstein to ever enjoy widespread success. some of the musical performances are breathtaking, and even that grayson woman pulls it together enough to not put the wonderful howard keel to shame. anyhow, i have probably said enough on the subject, but everyone still needs to see it.

also need to see arsnic and old lace. and who wouldnt want to watch cary grants greatest ever performance?!

anyhow, i shall stop ranting about movies you are probably too much a prduct of your generations to watch, and go try and do something productive.

love and hugs and strawberries to all

rani

99 red balloons

just to demonstrate my amazing ability to learn totally useless information, im going to astound you all by typing out the cool german bit in 99 red balloons by golfinger. it must be noted that this is mostly for my benefit in learning it, and you wont really have definitive proof that i did it from memory, but ull just have to trust me. also, how awsum is that song! its fantastic! amazing! incredible! really really good! and cait, flea, jess, anyone who speaks german, id be glad to have a bit of a translation as i really dont know what im singing.

99 kreigsminister

streicholz und benzinkanister

heilten sich fur schlaur leutte

witterten schon fette beute

Reifen: kreig und wolten macht

mann wer haette das gedacht

das es einmal soweit kommt

wegen 99 luftballons

see, i did it! dont you just wish you were all as supremely talented as me?!

ill leave you with your jealously then

history assignment

SHHHHHIIIIIIIITTTTT! excuse the expletive, but i felt it necessary. the reason being that i have a 1200word history research assignment to do before wednesday. kill me!

A Moment (As observed from a grassy cliff in mosman park)

tom cats brawl in the quiet greys

city fades in the smoke and haze

roadways bathed in the fading light

almost asleep but for now, not quite.

here a fly in the warm breeze whines

there a crow rests on powerlines

just a moment in time, then it passes on

only a glimpse, and now its gone.

gd evening all, and how are we on this marvelously cold night?

you know, you realize how truly sad your life is when your life is filled by msn and all things turkish. you know its even sadder when that consists of the 4 people that actaully are on msn on a friday night, turkish coffee and delight, and watching bride and prejudice of all things in company with mother and cat. i mean, bride and prejudice really isnt bad, but still, when youre watching an indian remake of jane austen........ need i say more?

on another note its 2 wks till spring, which means 3 months till summer and beach season. yay! cant wait until the warm weather and lazy days that i can spend stretched out in the warm warm sun and periodically going for dips in all that cool blue water. then the lazy walk home to the train station then on down victoria street and home to lie around. go for long walks and learn bass guitar and pointlessly complicated REM music on piano. and what bliss it will be to find summer clothes again, so much less cloying and banana smoothies in the mornings, and itll be the right weather for cereal, and you can wash your hair without having to blow dry it or freeze to death. oh, oh and the best bit of all, the very very best, the sweet sweet sunshine!

ah well, dare to dream of something that wonderful to get through the next tough months

dream dream dream
love to you all a million zillion times over
rani

pocket

i have in the past 24 hrs emptied every pocket that i own as a part of my 'lets-find-all-those-things-ive-lost' campain. to make this moment cheesier i played youve got her in your pocket the whole time. it would have been nice to have some variety but unfortunately thats the only song readily available to me in which pockets are a prominent lyric.

in said pockets i found:

1. string
2. fluff
3. $29.32
4. lost keys
5. 2nd set of lost keys
6. plastic bambi
7. 400 lire
8. pens - various colours
9. old theatre tickets
10. receipts
11. locket
12. flake wrapper
13. bank receipts
14. pay slip
15. chinese fan (purchased for $2.50 - freo markets - 2001)
16. pocket knife with broken blade.
17. candle shavings
18. lip gloss
19. lip gloss
20. lip gloss (realized i own 2 much lip gloss)
21. little book of boredom
22. random key
23. glitter
24. more pocket fluff

so, that, in a nutshell is the contents of my pockets. entertaining huh. didnt find anything i actually needed, but hey, it keeps me off the street

love and hugs and arsnic to you all

the great grey eminence of it all

nothing is a sadder picture than an overprivileged teenage girl crying so hard her ribs hurt. which is what im doin right now. and spent pretty much my whole saturday doing. i have found a sure and certain way to make me cry hysterically with little or no provocation. play counting crows four white stallions and lie in bed feeling sorry for myself. the worst part really lies in the fact that i have nothing to cry about. my life is pretty darn good. i mean, im not starving, or being shot at, or garrotted by my own countrys army. im not dying, or mentally disturbed (well, not in any really bad ways) or deeply in debt or anything. i dont even have any really pathetic reasons. i dont even know why i do it. the only thing that i can conclude is that i like dwelling on my own self pity. i think its my own sense of complete apathy and separation that brings this on. it scares me that i dont seem to give a damn anymore. its scary when you suddenly dont know and dont have a plan after a lifetime of complete assurance. its even scarier to find that you dont care that you dont have a plan or even that youre scared.

anyhow, i am gonna go find myself a glass of juice, get myself back together

too roo

rationality

i often wonder what unit you would use to measure rationality? its a commonly recognised conundrum. i think its an important idea that has so far been materially ignored and marignalized.

and once a measure has been found, i have a thought. could we not then conduct experiments on where rationality goes once it has left the human mind? it seems to be a common conception that reason and precrious rationality goes 'out the window', which is an interesting idea. i wonder where it would go if there were no other escape. would that rationality simply float around the room, or inside the mind? to test this we could indeed seal a human inside a crackless concrete bunker. this would have the double effect of making the human in question lose their reason and calm, and also trapping the rationality as it escapes. we need simply to find that all inportant measure and a method through which to detect it. any thoughts that would assist us in this project are welcome.

terrorism

ok, is it just me, or is john howard undergoing a process of nazification. national identity card, i spose is fair enough, is really just another peice of plastic to carry round, why not, how much damage can it really do. on the other hand, i heard i think philip ruddock say tonight on the news that "australians i think will not mind some reductions in individual freedoms for the cause of security". dingdingding, alarms bells, hitler, mugabe, polpot.......is noone else worried?

i mean, come on, hitler and the emergency powers? oh, we're only gonna take your civil rights for a little while, its ok, we'll give them back.....suckers.....

another example of a lil discrepancy between what the govt is saying and what theyre actually doing. this was taken from the transcript of tonights news "Mr Ruddock says while next month's special counter-terrorism meeting will not involve Muslim leaders, the Government will continue to work closely with the Islamic community." did he just directly contradict himself? i mean, from what i can gather this is pretty mush THE summit to be at, and theyre all working with the muslim community to give them the best deal they can. fair enough, very admirable. only thing is, they appear to be excluding them at every possible turn while simultaneously implementing race specific targeting for ASIO investigation. thats what i call rude.
and what next? the neo-nazi no women in the workplace policy. lets all settle down to raising good, blond,racially pure australian children girls and start really caring about eugenics and filth of the like. and before we know it we'll be kicking the little muslim kids in the street and calling them inferior,then killing them by the thousand cos our troupe leader told us it was good for our souls.

im sorry for attempting to impart upon you all such a bleak world view (i feel positively like a lit teacher), but does noone else find this trash, along with these putrid IR laws sickening. doesnt it make you want to retch, just because we live in an environment that isnt affected by this stuff, does that mean we must necessarily be apathetic. privilege and protest are not mutually exclusive.

apologies, promise to be more fluent when i next post. or when the pure, mercurial rage has drained from my system. whichever comes first.

peace out

found my breakfast

just so you all know, i did find my breakfast. it was in the backyard, must have left it there when i went out to get the washing in

tired and apathetic

today i feel the urge to kill, yet lack the fundamental will. it seems too much like effort. it seems infinitly easier to cackle and pretend the world doesnt exist as i normally do. that way i can float along in oblivion, set the controls to overdrive and go out back and make myself a yummy yummy jasmine tea.

well, just off that subject, i am now going to ramble about my sexy leather boots. knee high, black leather, all shiny. all i need now is a large machine gun and i can b a secret agent, or a whip and spurs and i can reapply 4 that job at mosman girls.....oops, did i say that in my out loud voice?!

oh, and whoever is the demolition expert.....who th hell r u?????!!!!!

breakfast

ok, i think im losing my mind. and im certain ive lost my breakfast. i just dont know where its gone. one minute i was quietly wandering through my house eating my cereal and soy milk, and then suddenly my cereal was gone. just wasnt there anymore. i looked and looked but no cereal came to sight. it was gone. im shattered. my whole sense of being and self worth is gone with breakfast.

apart from the devestating moral and psychological effects of this; the feelings of abandonment, loss and grief; i must later go home and search on for a bowl of congealed carbohydrate goop. such a wonderful job.

boredom factor = 21.6

current music - abbey road
current annoyance - cat (more specifically cat claws)
current cause of pain - that damn bulldog clip on my ear
other causes of pain - cher cd playing in the kitchen


evening all. am doing hmwk and being hugely productive *cough*bullshit*cough* as per usual. and as im being so so productive and studious i decided to further waste time and post once more to you all in an attempt to pretend my existence has a point.

further in this attempt to justify my existence i will state that abbey road is deffinatly one of the worlds greatest albums. and is more than interesting listening first to the wonder and brilliance of that, then going to the stuff john lennon did with the plastic ono band,just to compare and contrast, as lit encouages us so fiercly to do. in short, it sucked hugely by comparison. while some is reasonable, it looses both its punch and originality. ok, ill admit that some of its ok, like beatiful boy, imagine, power to the people, and give peace a chance (give jesus pants....), but compared to the older stuff.......

anyhow, curently listening to here comes the sun, always fantastic.

am also trying to find a good download for karma chameleon by boy george. sad but true.

anyhoo, several weeks ago i bought a book of a thousand and one limericks. this was in a pathetic effort to remedy my sad boring life. it didnt work, but that doesnt mean i cant torture you with bad taste limericks till the cows come home. for instance

a tired young trollop of nome

was warn out from her toes to her dome

eight miners came screwing

she said 'nothing doing;

one of you has to go home.'

terrible huh. howz this one;

there was a young fellow named hammer

who had an unfortunate stammer

'the bane of my life'

he said 'is my wife.

d-d-d-d-d-d-damn her!'

and just when you thought it was all over

our ships captain, nicknamed 'old randy'

made advances to any girl handy

but when shipwrecked awhile

an a bleak desert isle

he made do with our midshipman sandy

im sorry, but it just had to be done. anyhow, after making you suffer such pain id better go and do some actual work.

g'nite my sweetlings

culture (and all that)

ok, for those who need this, heres the info on good plays and such for the coming few wks.

Russian National Ballet: The Nutcracker
Sunday, 21 August, 2:00pmBurswood Theatre
Students $65.90
$59.90
$49.90

Cinderella: WA Ballet Company
16 - 17 September 2005 (Friday & Saturday), 8:00pm21 September - 1 October 2005 (Wednesday to Saturday), 8:00pm20 & 27 September (Tuesday), 6:30pm24 September & 1 October (Saturday), 2:00pmHis Majesty's Theatre
Concession
$40.00
$32.00
$15.00

Fairytales On Thin Ice
Presented by the WA Youth Theatre Company and ARTSWA. Thursday, 15 September, 8:00pm Preview Night16 - 17 September (Friday & Saturday), 8:00pm21 - 24 September (Wednesday to Saturday),
8:00pmThe Rechabites Hall

Concession
$12.00

Carmen: WA Opera
25, 27, 29 October 2005 (Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday), 7:30pmTuesday, 1 November, 1:30pm3, 5 November 2005 (Thursday, Saturday), 7:30pm
His Majesty's Theatre
Concession
$58.00

Les Miserables - WA Cast
Friday, 21 October, 7:30pmSaturday, 22 October, 1:00pm & 7:30pmSunday, 23 October, 3:00pm25 - 28 October (Tuesday to Friday), 7:30pmSaturday, 29 October, 1:00pm & 7:30pmSunday, 30 October, 3:00pm
Regal Theatre
Concession
$36.00

if anybody thinks of anything else stunning and startling give me a hoi

is everything really real?

and while i leave you all with that ecerteric question on which to ponder, i shall move on from it and never speak of it again.

in completely unrelated news, i think i may be cracking up. further. i came to this conclusion when faced today with the insane desire to cackle after realizing exactly how much botox my school principle has has injected into her forehead and jaw. this fact should probably have produced a reaction of mixed disgust and fascination, but instead i felt only the compulsion to laugh loudly and hysterically and scream 'mrs s------ had surgery!'. similarly, when faced with a ranting teacher, a gaggle of vapid and annoying year 10s and a locker tied shut with my own hair ribbon, i felt that same manaical urge rising in my throat again. all i wanted to do was to sink to the floor and laugh until i cried or coughed up a lung, whichever came first.

in equally unrelated news, everybody should read crime and punishment. though somewhat confusing (having realized myself only 187pgs through that katerina ivanovna and someone else ivanovna were not actually related, i can appreciate this) and all characters having 12 syllable last names which only the narrator ever calls them by and the russian 2 first names thingy, its a fantastic book, which i think all year 12 students can particularly relate to, especially so in raskolnikovs descent into paranoia and madness.

i decided to write a story about my impending madness, but i could find no adequate spelling for crazy-murderer laughter. i have instead resorted to a story in which a lovely butterfly lives a happy and fullfilling life before being brutally crushed to death under the human foot. so cheery. means tho that when people ask if im writing another depressing story i can honestly ask 'how could butterflies be depressing?'

isnt that song hyperballad amazing? incredible. interesting question propounded also

Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks
When it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

depressing as all hell, but an interesting. always wanted to know if i would die with my eyes open or not. still a great song though, one you can listen to when nothing else is working. a bit like nightswimming, or everybody hurts or recovering the satellites.

anyways, as it is getting late i shall leave you all to your own devices, whatever those devices may be.

peace

are you being served?

does anybody remember that champish show 'are you being servd?' about those people in the department store in london? with the ditzy blonde and mrs slocome in the lingerie section and the blonde gay guy in the menswear dept. was on around th same time as the good life, to the manor born and that odd show bout the scottish flight attendants.