Anonymous asked: Hello, I'm doing a speech on rape culture for my English Assessment and I was wondering what you think the main points I need to cover are? The speech isn't a long one, only three minutes long so I need to wrap it up. Thanks!
Do your own work or you won’t learn! *Thumbs up*
(via thallydraper)
My friend posted a video on YouTube in which he jumped into a popular water feature in Melbourne. The video got thousands of views. He discovered that it was popular among fetishists that like wet clothing. It is apparently an incredibly large market.
(Source: motherfuckingfaggotbrigade, via lowonmilk)
Don’t know when we’ll set up Internet at this house, seeing as we’d need to buy a decent wireless router with the no money that we have. I don’t know that it’s a priority.
Just wanted to let everyone that has sent me an ask or an email know that I’ll reply to all of you when I’m not limited to this damned phone.
I hate typing with this thing.
Also, quick message to the some 800 new followers that I’ve gained; Lol ur gonna h8 it here.
Anonymous asked: So, I really like a guy I've been seeing; it's been about a month or so and I want to ask him out, as in to be able to call him my boyfriend. But, I'm struggling to think of ways to do so, there's always the straight up tell him how I feel etc but I wanted to kind of make it different or exciting. So what I'm really trying to ask is if you had any ideas/experiences that could help a sister out...
I’ve only got my iPhone, so I can’t make you a graph - BUT I CAN DESCRIBE A GRAPH!
It would be a line graph and the X axis would be labelled ‘Grandeur of proposal’, and the Y axis would be labelled ‘Risk of humiliation’, and as the line progressed along the X axis it would rise EXPONENTIALLY.
Suffice to say that if you know he’ll say yes then you can go buy an elephant and train it to trumpet the chorus that disco stick song by Lady Gaga and then spit roses at him, but if there’s a chance that he doesn’t feel the same way then talking and stating your feelings will definitely suffice.
Because it’s one thing if he says no to you, but it’s another thing entirely if he says no to you and Lady Babar.
Anonymous asked: So do you only answer messages that shine you in a positive light?
There is no light which when shined upon me could appear negative.
Anonymous asked: You know, it actually really hurt my feelings to read about how foul we were. I know that I have the ability to just shrug it off, but for some reason, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, and I'm upset.
If you’re wanting me to apologize for commenting on your behavior, I’d rather just direct you to the sentence: “It was a fucking jazz lounge.”
But the feelings you’re describing in this and especially the last message you sent (which I can’t respond to because you used my name, although I imagine you knew that and that’s why you used it) remind me feelings that I felt back when I first started dating Rhiann. We went out to a cocktail bar in the city with a large group of friends and we got very drunk and in the stupor for some reason we ended up deliberately pouring a glass of water on the table. Rhiann was not as drunk as me, and when the waiter came and angrily wiped down our table she was very embarrassed. She later explained that we’d acted inappropriately.
I initially felt hurt by her comments, as though she had judged me, and I resented her for it. But I thought it over and my response was not to tell her off for judging me and defend our actions by saying that we were having a good time, but instead to recognize that I, along with my friends, had acted in an uncouth manner.
I felt embarrassed and ashamed. Once I accepted these feelings I recognized that it was only in an attempt to escape them that I’d resented her. Because if I could believe that she was just a judgmental bitch, then I wouldn’t have had to accept any blame.
I was actually thinking about that last night while you were screaming. I thought, maybe this is just a kind of stepping stone experience we all have, one of the many follies of youth. A fork in your development wherein you either learn from it and behave more respectfully in future or you say ‘Fuck you’ to those that point it out and continue along the same path.
I didn’t say fuck you to Rhiann, and now I don’t play with my drinks.
It’s your choice as to whether or not you say fuck you to me (figuratively of course) and continue to shout in jazz lounges.
This is a long and boring story detailing my history with Martin Martini, which I felt I had to write after seeing him last night and having some kid say something stupid to me. So here goes.
I was sixteen years old when I first saw Martin Martini. It was around 3am, and I was watching TV as I usually did on weekends at that age (I was a cool kid). As I flicked past Victoria’s community channel (Channel 31), I paused because there was a live performance being broadcast and it was really cool. There were trumpets and clarinets and a violin and a kind of cockney ring-leader looking guy screaming “We’re gonna dream until we die!” as the band went mental. The name at the bottom of the screen said “Martin Martini and the Bone Palace Orchestra”.
I went online and I couldn’t find anything but their Myspace page. I checked out some more tracks and they all had this same kind of feel to them that I really liked. I couldn’t find a download link anywhere, but I saw that they had a CD that they were selling at gigs so I checked out the tour dates and found that they had a show in a few months on Chapel Street in South Yarra.
I sent them a message on Myspace asking if there’d be any way that I could get a CD from the gig even though I was only sixteen, and Martin Martini responded saying that he didn’t think he’d be able to organize them to hold a CD at the door because the place was kind of fancy. At that time my father lived on Toorak Road in South Yarra, about a three minute walk away. I called him and asked if he’d be willing to go into this gig for me and buy me the CD, and he said that he’d be happy to. My father is really into his music and I think that he appreciated that his son was into some underground band.
When I messaged Martin Martini and told him, he put my father on the door so that he could get in for free. I don’t think my Dad had been on a door list before, and he really enjoyed it. He also really liked the music. “That guy writes good fuckin’ songs” was his review. But the most important thing is that I got my first Martin Martini CD. I absolutely loved it. I shared it with all of my friends, most of them liked it, but my closest friend at the time, Cass, really took to it.
The next year Martin Martini had a gig at the Rainbow Hotel in Fitrzroy. I was seventeen years old but I had a full beard, so I decided to ask if he thought he might be able to put me on the door. He told me he’d put my last name + guests. I lied to my mother and told her that I was staying at my friends house, and they lied to their parents and said the same, and we all caught the train into the city to see our first gig. During the gig I had an awkward moment with another man’s penis. But the show was amazing. I bought T-Shirts from the merch table which I then wore everywhere. Martin Martini told us that they were going to tear down the hotel to build a block of flats, and encouraged us to take some of it home with us. People tore up the stairs and took mirrors from the bathroom. I ripped a small screw from the wall and put it in my pocket. After the gig I chatted with Martin Martini and thanked him for everything. By the time the gig finished the trains had all stopped and my friends and I were all stranded. We slept in a park next to Federation Square, under a rickety bridge.
I continued going to Martin Martini & The Bone Palace Orchestra’s gigs over the next couple of years. After every gig I’d talk to the band. I went to one gig on my birthday, and the trumpet player told the woman at the bar to give me free drinks. Later they released another album and replaced their violinist with an electric guitarist and it completely changed their sound. It wasn’t better or worse, it was just different. But suddenly their gigs had mosh-pits.
Then in 2010 they announced that they were breaking up and that they were going to do one last gig, ‘The Funeral Show’. It remains the equal greatest performance of any kind that I have ever seen live. Many people in line to get in were talking about how they hadn’t seen him play live, and that they found out about the show via word of mouth. One guy asked to buy our ticket (They were sold-out) because this was his last chance to see Bone Palace. A huge range of bands and performers did renditions of Bone Palace songs over three hours, and then Martin Martini got up and did a double set. It was incredible. I didn’t get to talk to Martin after the show though, because the place was just too busy. The merch table was selling all of the posters that they’d ever had in a big bundle for $45, and I got it. The most beautiful of them all was the funeral poster, which was a much taller version of this;
With all of the other acts listed beneath the skull. After they broke up, there was nothing for about a year. Then he sent out an invite on Facebook (lol bye myspace ur so 3 years ago) to ‘The Smallest Band in the World’. I took Rhiann (we weren’t dating yet) and it was one of the loveliest gigs I’d ever seen. The venue was The Butterfly Club, a really small and intimate bar. I later had my 21st there. The Smallest Band in the World had an EP for sale there, home burnt discs in cases with magazine clipping covers. The lyrics were heavily influenced by ‘The Road’, which I had apparently read at around the same time as Martin Martini. The music was much simpler than Bone Palace, much gentler, and it was beautiful. A few members from the Bone Palace had been in the audience, and after the show I took my copy of the Funeral poster and got them, along with Martin Martini, to sign it. They seemed kind of surprised that I had it there. Martin Martini said that it was the only Funeral poster he had signed.
But the co-lead singer of that band, a girl named Billie, went back to Sweden shortly after that show, and that was the end of that. Afterwards Martin Martini had a few solo shows to showcase his new material, and I went to a couple. Then he caught a big break from the National Gallery of Victoria. They were running an exhibition called Vienna Art & Design (with works from the likes of Klimt and Schiele), and they had Martin Martini perform when the gallery was open late on Wednesday nights. He performed songs that he’d written that had been inspired by the works there. Going to see the exhibition with Rhiann was one of our best dates, but unfortunately she left to go overseas before Martini began his gigs. I didn’t want to go back to the gallery alone, so I missed them.
But then a month or two ago Martin Martini sent us an invite to a performance he was having at a Jazz bar in the city. He was performing the songs that he’d written for Vienna. I went with Rhiann to see it last night, and the gig doubled up as a dear friend’s birthday celebration. The gig was lovely and his new songs were brilliant. Unfortunately none of them have been recorded so as of yet there’s no album. A member from the Bone Palace was standing at the bar as I walked in and he asked me how I was going, which was nice. After the gig I talked to Martin Martini for a little while and he asked how life was. I told him that I’d just moved out with my girlfriend and I was training to be a security guard. He joked that if he ever toured Australia again I could be his personal security.
But now a side story. My best friend from back when I was sixteen, Cass? She shared the music with her younger boyfriend, and he shared it with all of his buddies. Being hipsters they all took to it like mad. They were in the years below us in school and I think that they might have thought we were cool or something? I’m not sure. But last night there was a table of them there. It was strange going to a Martin Martini gig and seeing a table of the younger kids that I went to school with.
They were foul. The entire table of them hooted and hollered and screamed after each song as though they were at a Metallica concert. It was a fucking jazz lounge. Before the show began a woman got up and asked everyone to turn their mobile phones off and to take discussion outside as this was a dedicated-listening venue. But these people persisted with their out of place, obnoxious yelling. At one point Martin Martini actually rolled his eyes at them. My table tried to ignore them, which was difficult as we were right next to their antics.
At the end of the gig one of the boys from that table approached us and spoke over the Birthday girl; “You made it!”
I assumed that he was referring to the fact that I have spent the past few days moving, which he knew, and maybe he thought I’d be too busy to come. But before I could respond he added; “As many as we could get”. At that point it became apparent to me that he thought that we were an extension of his table. That he and his friends had tried to collect people to come see Martin Martini for the first time, and that I had tagged along. One of my old-roommates was there with them so I guess he imagined that he’d put me on to it.
He then asked; “What did you think of him? Did you like the show?” Because he was under the impression that he had just introduced me to Martin Martini and he was wondering what I’d thought of it. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him until I could see that he was uncomfortable and wondering if he’d said something wrong. Then I very loudly and very sarcastically replied; “Yeah. It was great.”
And it kind of ruined my night.
So I don’t think I can afford to end the relationship right now.
Has anyone else noticed that? It’s like the media thinks they’ve found some kind of magical loophole in the form of flamboyant homosexuals. Because you can’t have a heterosexual man saying that Anne Hathaway looks like a goth Miss Piggy after a long battle with heroin abuse, because people would call him misogynist and offensive. Likewise, you can’t have a female say it because people would call her a jealous fat bitch. And you can’t have any non cis-gendered people or people with different sexualities on television unless they’re being painfully nice, but homosexual men… They can say mean things because it’s catty and fun!
Haha, he’s wearing a jacket made of sequins and he just said that Anna Paquin looked like an anorexic Popsicle stick that had been dipped in a bucket of mascara and then dropped off of the roof of a skyscraper! I wish I had someone like him to go shopping with!
It seems ridiculous to me.
pallasites asked: #erotic tag on the last post? I thought you were straight...
Oh fuck, you caught me. I guess I’ll go break up with my girlfriend and buy some tight pink jeans or something and then start giving straight guys make-overs and get paid to make bitchy comments about celebrities on TV.
