My Australian fans who keep up with the news will probably know that by now, our opposition Liberal-National Coalition (who are actually on the right) have gone through their third leader since 2007. And I am royally pissed off about it.

The reason for the ruckus was because of our Labor PM's plan to introduce an Emissions Trading Scheme into Parliament. I'm not 100% sure exactly what it entails, but I have gathered that it involves a carbon credits trading scheme and possibly some other taxes. Either way, if it means that we're doing something to help the environment, something has got to be better than nothing.

And the bill would have been sweet to go through because Malcolm Turnbull (Liberal leader) was supporting it. While he probably didn't go about getting the fascist elements of his party to support the bill in the right way - strong-arming through the media =/= political success - it's hard to argue that his intentions were bad, as he was pretty much sticking his neck out for something the country, nay, the motherf*cking world needs.

Unfortunately, you don't mess with climate change deniers. The rabid elements staged a leadership coup and now our Opposition is led by a man who wears Speedos in public.

Thank Jeebus most Australians are smart enough to know what's best for them and we have a PM who isn't perfect, but when you consider the alternative... If Rudd calls a snap election like there are suggestions he might, I might just have to vote.

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It's not all bleak though. Sobriety is actually working out OK for me. I've long known that I'm not so much an alcoholic as a binge drinker - I can go without it, but when I drink, I drink myself into a coma. But of course, the real challenge will be when uni starts again. I think I can survive though.

Santa Monica (Everclear)

I also told Grimwolf about my sobriety pledge. He laughed but then agreed eventually to support me. Which, for him, probably means making me perpetual sober driver next time he comes and he and whoever go out drinking. Oh well, he drove me around enough in school that I probs owe him.

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I've recently decided I'm gonna sell all my CDs. Why? I'm going retro.

Yes, that's right. I'm getting hold of some vinyl.

I just saw an old set of turntables in a pawnshop for $250 each - my personal CD collection (excluding my stepdad's) should be worth at least a couple of hundred, and I can probably get one of them for that much cash. And I work enough around the house that I could probably afford some new records every couple of weeks without having to get a real job. Because I'm f*cking lazy and would honestly just prefer to surf, watch cricket and hang around the house.

Where It's At (Beck)

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And that's all for now. Peace out, mutha*ucka's..

...begin to smell her"
- Plush (Stone Temple Pilots)

My longtime readers will know what this song means. Summer is in the air. And this is the earliest start in months. Put it down to the Sydney weather, which leads to 40 degrees in November. My mum hates it, but I love it. After eight years of New Zealand summers which were as wet as the rest of the year and only a bit warmer, some heat and sunshine is very welcome.

Plus, today marks the start of the Test Cricket season in Oz, with the West Indies playing the first of three tests in Brisbane today. Five days on the couch until I decide to go surfing and try and convince a bus driver to take my surfboard on the Balmain-Bondi bus. Spend a while girl-watching on Bondi but eventually head south for Bronte or Maroubra.

However, for the first time in a while it's all gonna be without beer. Why? Because I'm on the wagon. And this time for real. I am going sober.

Why? Let me take you back to last Friday. The Buzzcocks were playing a gig and I was there. Unfortunately other than Ever Fallen In Love and Sixteen Again, I remember nothing. Because I was getting utterly trashed. Eight or nine beers later and my dad was picking me up to drop me at Mum's for the weekend. He got pissed off at me and eventually pulled over on Norton St to buy some food. I took this as an invite to step out of the car and try walk home, but I was barely able to stand up and ended up puking in front of a JB Hi Fi. And to cap it off, I ended up getting busted by a pig for pissing in a schoolyard. Dad came and saved my arse before they could arrest me, but he made sure Mum knew what I had been doing once we got home and that it wasn't his fault. Mum let me sleep (after I puked three times in the toilet and once in the shower) but the next day I got a massive lecture from all three (Mum, Dad, Gavin)...well, mostly Mum. Dad and Gavin just sat there and backed her up.

More importantly, I was going through hell. My guts were hurting like a motherf*cker, I was hungover and hallucinating slightly. And this wasn't anywhere near as much as I have been known to drink at times.

So after the bollocking, I decided to go for a walk down Balmain Rd. Along the way, I did some serious soul searching. I realised that I pretty much don't even drink for pleasure most of the time, I drink to get pissed. And what's the point? I've long figured that it doesn't solve my issues and that it is just f*cking up my liver, which, given my combined Indian and Melanesian ancestries, is pretty f*cking tiny.

So I decided to quit for good.

I've even mulled over becoming straight edge. I would only have to give up marijuana and premarital sex, and 90% of the sex I have is fueled by alcohol anyway so that's largely a goner. I think I'll keep weed for now, but once I get through the struggles of sobriety I'll try to give it up.

Straight Edge (Minor Threat)

Don't worry though. I'm still insane.

Weezer fans have never lacked loyalty. A large number of them were members of the Pinkerton cult who saw their life stories played out in Rivers Cuomo's tales of woe and blue balls and who turned a forgotten mid-90s oddity into the biggest cult hit of that decade. The same cult who have seen practically every single step taken by Rivers since then as heretic and a betrayal of the nerd ideals that album espoused, yet who still make the effort to buy every Weezer album in the hope that, finally, they will receive Pinkerton 2.0. And when they discover that it isn't, they vent their rage on the internet.

Those fans will probably be disappointed by Raditude. They will hear the poppy choruses, the synths and - of course - the Lil Wayne guest appearance on Can't Stop Partying and raise the chants of "sell out" all over Youtube and the Internet. And when you consider the rest of Weezer's post-Pink work - the soulless Green Album, the uneven Maladroit and Make Believe and the promise-so-much-yet-fail-miserably front-loading of the Red Album - in some regards these chants may have been deserved.

With Raditude, however, Rivers Cuomo and his band of merry men build on the potential of the first half of Red and make a full return to form. And don't doubt it - this is very much Cuomo's band. Despite the claims of the album being a more collaborative effort, most of the collaboration comes from outside sources (All-American Rejects vocalist Tyson Ritter and guitarist Nick Ritter, hip hop guru Jermaine Dupri, Kelly Clarkson collaborator Dr Luke and album co-producer Jacknife Lee) rather than the other band members (Pat Wilson's In The Mall is the sole writing contribution by a band member other Cuomo, who sings the song himself).

The album kicks off with the obnoxiously titled "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To". Over a country-esque acoustic guitar and shuffle, Rivers tells a tale of a teen romance and meeting the parents that would sound annoying and douchey from a lesser artist but sounds charming and nostalgic from him. When the guitars kick in on the "Giiiiirrrrrllll", I dare anyone to not sing along. The industrial-sized hooks continue on "I'm Your Daddy" and "The Girl Got Hot", although even Rivers can't change the fact that a married dad approaching middle age just sounds creepy when referring to a barely legal teenage girl as "my baby" and him as "your daddy." It's "Across The Sea" 10 years later with extra perv.

Enter the most talked about track of all. "Can't Stop Partying" is a track about just that. It's a completely brain dead anthem where Rivers, one album after dissing Timbaland, name-drops Grey Goose and the former King of the Nerds claims that he's "your VIP." I can only hope that this statement is meant to be ironic (along with most of the album's lyrics) cause otherwise, this track may just be the guilty pleasure of the year. Driven by synths and an R&B beat, it's nothing like Weezer ever recorded, but lacks the sing-along qualities of the first three tracks. These return on the "Put Me Back Together", which features Rivers' collaboration with half the All American Rejects. However, this is possibly the weakest song on the album. While it tries to be a shiny pop rock anthem, it's lack of a genuine hook combined with the inane lyrics give it the feel of a Green Album outtake.

In contrast, "Trippin' Down The Highway" feels totally fresh, fun and is not only the best song on the album, but possibly the song of the year. Telling the story of a couple on a road trip (hence the title) the lyrics still aren't exactly deep, but the song itself is a sweet nugget of power pop that deserves to be a roadtrip cla$$ic of the 00s.This little gem is followed by "Love Is The Answer", which has a strong Indian music influence. Being Indian myself, I can say that I thought that one of my Mum's Hindu devotional music CDs had been mashed up with Rivers' voice singing a Hallmark card chorus ("Love is the answer; You have got to trust in the world). It shouldn't work, yet somehow it does. Not the best track, but still enjoyable enough.

The shiny power pop returns with "Let It All Hang Out". By now the album is beginning to feel a tad same-y, but the singalong factor is undoubtable even if Rivers' voice, never the most powerful in the world, sounds buried under the guitars for the chorus and the whiny bridge somewhat grates. Pat Wilson's "In The Mall" continues in this vein - fun, but somewhat disposable.

However, the closing ballad "I Don't Want To Let You Go" is perfect. A remake from the second Alone album, it is also the only song that feels like it belongs on Pinkerton. When Rivers softly sings "the pain is killing me, but I can't let it be, I have to let you know, I don't want to let you go" once again you realise what sets Weezer apart from a million other emo bands as he vocalises the lyric with a frankness and honesty rather than mindless angst. It almost feels out of place amongst the good times spirit of the prior nine songs, but in a very nice way. The lyrics are also the best on the album.

If Raditude has a lyrical theme, it is nostalgia; if the Red Album was Rivers approaching his mid life crisis, Raditude is him well and truly in it as he looks back on his teen years, relationships, partying and having fun. As such, most of the lyrics are throwaway and a bit cheesy - give them a club beat and they won't be out of place (is it a coincidence that Rivers has recently songs for Katy Perry?). But when almost every song makes you want to grab a beer, go and sit out in the sunshine and start belting the songs out (preferably with some mates) does that even matter? For me, the worse crime is the lack of guitar solos on the album. While fretboard wankery isn't called for, when the songs start to become a bit samey a few melodic solos would be a nice change of pace.

Weezer have had an interesting career arc. Ever since their first two albums, which are dead set future cla$$ics, everyone has been waiting for a retread of the more edgy one (Pinkerton) where as they seem more interested in remaking the Blue Album and that album's mixture of power pop, alternative rock and nerditude (if raditude is a word, so is nerditude). On Raditude, any lingering nerdiness is lost, but in doing so Rivers and the boys have made their best album in 15 years. Yes, I am calling it now - for what it is, Raditude is better than Pinkerton.
Better than Blue? Only time will tell if Raditude grows to be seen in the same mold. But it's definitely the first spritual son and a return to form. Finally, Weezer are back.

Score: 9.5/10.

...is sober Ash keeps his thoughts to himself."
- Verity's succinct description of me at dinner. I tried to argue, but there was no point.

Friday night ended up sucking. It started very promisingly, with a trip up to Shads and hitting on a girl at the bar. (I almost squeezed a free tequila shot out of her in the process). She told me where her friends were, and I was about to go and find them and hang for a while and see where this went before the crew (Verity, Rupert and Jodi) ended up leaving just as I went to go look for her. While little head and most of my instincts told me to stay and join them later, I realised I had no idea where the restaurant was so, being the good sheep that I am, followed. After all, we were going partying later. There would be more women then, right? Score one for Big Head.

After Verity's Amazon mate Lisa showed up, we headed to the restaurant. There most of the alcohol on offer was wine, which I don't touch cause it generally does bad things to my stomach. So I ended up dipping into my wallet for a few beers and Jim Beams. Given that I also refrained from eating, I managed to get fairly drunk at the restaurant. The photos from dinner are all on Facebook if anyone wants to look at them. Most of them are just us being drunk uni students - there's one of me giving a creepy smile and John groping Arena (I had my arm around her as well but I wasn't copping a feel), plus my new profile shot which shows me at my skeevy best, but it was all fun. Then Max announced that they were planning to head for Rakinos, a club down town. And while I hate clubs with the fire of a thousand suns, I love women and clubs = women. So they tend to cancel each other out. Anyway, I noticed a few of my friends were leaving early and mentioned they were heading for the club, and now I had to make another decision. Do I stay with the rest of the crew, or do I go early and get first shot at anyone before all the hotter male members showed up? Big head says stay, little head says go. Considering that Big head drew me away from Shadows and let me down, I decided to follow Little Head's advice this time and follow the small group.

Turns out that was the mistake of the night. We made it to Rakinos, but they had a private function that wasn't us. So all the others decided to go home and I was up the proverbial creek without a paddle. Where to go from here? I crunched the possibilities in my head. Generally, the first port of call post-DebSoc party is Arena's house. And if the club was shut to us, that seemed like a natural place to head for some more drinking/partying, even though the last party there ended up with John puking in her sink and me pissing on the deck.
Anyway, I got in a cab and offered the driver $20 to take me to her place, which isn't far from the city. He agreed, but once I got there I realised no one was home. F*ck. They're all somewhere else and I don't know where to go. I tried sending some of them texts and even calling, but no one answered. F*ckers.

So I'm alone for the night with some cash left in my pocket. Home is 20 minutes walk away or less than $10 cab. That would be the logical, rational decision - get on home and call it a failed night. Or I could roll the dice once more and head back to town. My chances were slimmer without my friends around and I realised my only hope of getting laid would be to go to one of the sleazier clubs, which I hate with the fire of a MILLION suns and tend to have uglier (but more desperate) women.

If you know me at all, you shouldn't even have to ask yourself which option I picked.

I ended up dropping $25 on a cab to take me back to the city. Now there's just enough cash for a cab home - gotta put any more drinks I buy on credit. In a vain hope that the girl from earlier in the night was still there, I decided to start at Shads. Of course she was gone and replaced by faceless skanks who all looked the same (only difference beaing hair colour and skin tone), but the DJ was spinning some decent music (a little Nine Inch Nails and Static-X mixed with Parliament-Funkadelic and Michael Jackson) so I decided that since I had fought to get past the bouncer (I had said I'd only had a couple of beers, he could probably tell I was lying but let me in anyway) I would stay for a cheap Corona ($5.50, down from th earlier $7.50) at least.

Eventually I decided to hit the d-floor. Since I am a rarity among non-African American men in that I actually can dance, I got one girl's attention, but after a little dancing and more spent on drinks (she insisted I buy one for her friend as well, and those girls do not drink on the cheap) I found out she was with her brother. Her big Islander brother who isn't Villi. Okay, I'll just be going now.

After leaving Shads, I decided that since I had come this far it was worth one last roll of the dice. I headed down Queen St to a couple of the clubs we had gone to at Kornfeld's party, after stopping for a Macs Gold, a vomit in the toilet and to catch a Zeppelin tribute artist at QF Tavern. Once again, sanity should have kept me there if I wasn't going home - the women mostly had boyfriends, but the music was OK and they were decent eye candy, which realistically I was beginning to realise was about all I could hope for from the night. However, if Shads was my last roll of the dice Met Bar was a bonus pity roll - the absolute last chance I would get.

Needless to say, it failed. I hit on one girl but got chased away by her friend's boyfriend. Then I tried to get on the platform with the hotties (shot out to Steph) up there to bust a move or seven, but the security pulled me off and threw me out - the second (and last) time I've been kicked out of Met. (I got kicked out at Kornfeld's party for grabbing some girl's boob - I'm not proud of it either, but I was too drunk to care). Finally, after heading back to QF for one last beer and stare, I decided it wasn't worth trying anymore and to get in a cab and use the rest of my cash to go home. Thankfully the cabbie could tell I've had a sh!t night and knocked the change off the fare. Thanks mate.

Hunger Strike (Temple of the Dog)

And if things weren't bad already? They were going to get worse.

Soon after I got home I heard the phone ring. In my drunken state I failed to realise that the only person who would be calling at 2am would be my mum and she would only be calling because she was pissed. From the minute I picked up the phone she could tell I was drunk, but kept things short with a "Talk to you in the morning" once she realised I was OK otherwise (maybe I should have faked being hurt).

Obviously, she called. And she had brought Dad in. That's never good. They only work together when it comes to me. F*ck. Long story short, they both decided to read me the proverbial riot act. Especially considering my exams were a week away and I'd decided to go partying. Never mind that everyone else is doing it - the old "you're not a European, you do things differently" bullsh!t got trotted out by both of them. F*ck that. Yes, I know damn well I'm not white. I see it in the mirror every day. But I live here and this is the culture I've grown up with. And unlike you guys, I don't feel a need to hang onto a culture that my family left two generations ago at least. I am an Antipodean (my cla$sification since I don't really feel comfortable calling myself Australian or New Zealander over the other) and if either Australia or New Zealand went to war against India, I would fight for either one of them. (Well, if it was NZ I'd probably desert if conscription became an issue, given that their army is tiny and they don't have ANZUS any more etc). Anyway, I got a lengthy lecture, got pissed off at them, ended up smashing the phone through a window and decided to take one of my emergency Prozacs cause I knew that I would be sinking into mondo depression. However, it failed and as such in the past three days I've probably sabotaged any chance I have of doing good in my exams.

The good news is that things are on an upswing. I have finally managed to gain some control over my mood swings, although I am far from controlling them - I can just put off the depression for longer or lessen the manic-depressive crash by not building up the mania. On Friday, however, for obvious reasons I tried to hold off on having a manic episode for as long as possible but I'm fairly sure I went qute nuts in the restaurant. Some of the photos would suggest so, and I took a fair few myself (albeit with Verity and Arena's cameras). Anyway, the excess mania did lead to a particularly massive crash. This isn't always the case, but here the environment plays a role. Given that the euphoria blew up in my face, this probably = bigger downer. Three days stuck in my bedroom, to be exact, unable to get out of bed. Haven't had a spell like that since fifth form when I was weaning myself off the Prozac.
Anyway. That's life and it just goes to show how a couple of bad decisions can f*ck everything up.

So what's the result of this? Well, my dad's calling me home the day after exams finish, so no leaving party for me like I had planned. That night I'll probably just go to Shads and celebrate/drown my sorrows. Maybe try and call a couple of friends who don't mind a mid-exam beer or two up and hope there's a few others who are finishing with me. It can't go worse than last Friday. I guess that also goes to show what expectations can do to ya.

Times Like These (Foo Fighters)

See ya.

Ash.

- The Birdman (Our Lady Peace)

Well, now that Mum's gone home things can only get better. And they did. Last night was decent, as big Villi and I decided to take a well-earned study break (well, for him at least) and hit Shadows (our student bar) for beer. Beer is nice. After I had a few Coronas and he'd had three jugs of Speights, we were both a little tipsy (he had obviously drunk more, but he's also built like a brick sh!thouse and a foot taller than moi) we headed down to Fordes (the debate nerds bar of choice, where no one checks ID and getting hammered is a Thursday night ritual) to join everyone who had finished debating (we weren't in the finals) for drinks. The big man and I ended up doing a duet of November Rain (him on piano, me singing) and would have repeated it if it wasn't from the threats of the guy behind the bar. Tom, my second favourite Irishman behind my step-grandpa (followed by the guy who invented Kilkenny, Mark and then the guy who Invented Guinness) was away, but the bartenders knew us well enough.

Jump Around (House of Pain)

Anyway, I'm actually working on a little rap metal project right now. Once I finish the song, I'll stick it here and Facebook. And I'm reviving my old nickname as MC Shadow. (Yes, I am well aware that there is a DJ Shadow, but DJ and MC are different, noobs).

Killing In The Name (Rage Against The Machine)

And tonight's gonna be awesome. Why? It's the debating society's end of year dinner. And one thing I have learnt about the DebSoc is that any function is merely an excuse to get pissed. Very, very pissed. Thropy down in Palmie, post-Thropy party, mid year dinner, Kornfeld's leaving party, Craig's 21st, even our weekly Fordes ritual. I once opined that the society runs on alcohol and no one argued with me. And it's just before exams, so everyone's looking to blow off some steam. I'm fairly sure that I'll be in terrible shape tomorrow vowing to never drink again. Only to repeat the ritual after exams finish and I have my own leaving NZ party. It'll also be my chance to reunite with Grimwolf, who I haven't drunk with for too long. Although last time was of course on Kings Cross, where he claimed he was black, spat on two cars and propositioned a fat gay dude who accepted. I wonder if he ever got paid, cause tightarse sure didn't buy any drinks the next day at the bar.

Prisoner of Society (the Living End)

So, see you guys later.

Quote of the Week: "Maybe we should warn her. And offer to be her body guards. That's right, bodyguards." That would be Comrade Hank, aka Hank the Tank (the first one is because he's Chinese and taunted me about my libertarian views and the second speaks for itself). Said after I mentioned that I'd probably get so drunk I'd hit on everything with a pulse, especially Gretta, who was right behind him (I knew it, he didn't). She laughed and said she would consider my proposal. But as much as my little head would want to sleep with her, the big head says that she and the rest of the society would never forgive me if I did. But I'm not gonna be here next year, and the little head tends to dictate most of my thought processes. Flirting it is.

...the mark still remains"
- Mama Said (Metallica)

I love this song. I know I'm not supposed to as a Metallica fanboy, but I do anyway. I think it's pretty obvious why, given my own issues with my mum.

She's been visiting the past couple of days. Kid wanted to see Grandma and Grandpa, so she's staying at the flat even though they both live in my aunt's old place these days. No room anywhere else.

Being around Mum is hard enough when I'm home. When my two lives, if you will, collide, then it's like a soft version of Hades. If it wasn't for the fact that she goes back today, I'd almost be considering crack.

My random blog yesterday was typed on her iPhone while I was coming home.

It's not my fault bad things are so fun.

No lyric or quote. Just a fact.

Anyway, uni exams start in a couple of weeks. I'm not too bothered, what with moving next year and all.

In fact, I've got nothing to blog about.

Tucker Max is awesome.

This blog's gonna be two hours of Facebook updates.

Everyone who hasn't added me yet, do so. You know my name.

I am still pissed I didn't sex either the girl or guy in my profile photo. Even though I spent ten minutes dirty dancing with the guy. That's his boyfriend in the checked shirt.

I

...but what remain for the thunder?"
- Shakespeare's Othello. Said by Othello just as he has realised that his lieutenant, "Honest" Iago, is the true villain.

So why am I quoting Shakespeare? Because I just found out that my favourite English teacher, Mr Meyer, just recently passed away. He'd had heart problems for a while, but apparently he couldn't recover from this one and they had to pull the plug.

I chose that quote from Othello because we studied it last year, and I couldn't really think of another appropriate quote. Plus I always liked that one as well, and Mr Meyer was as focused on building our love of English as he was on getting us to pass exams.

RIP Mr Meyer. I know no one from the Year 13 English Cla$s of 2008 will forget your passion for English, good humour and ability to always get the best out of your students.

"Ceasar, now be still;
I killed not thee with half so good a will."
- Brutus' last words in Julius Caesar before he killed himself. This is my favourite line from any Shakespeare play I've studied. But call me whatever you like - I actually really enjoyed studying Shakespeare, in fact those were some of my favourite lessons to the point where I made sure to never go to one stoned.

Go in peace.

...but I did it anyway"
- Far Behind (Candlebox)

Am I a hypocrite? My disdain for most 80s power ballads is well documented, yet I have no shame whatsoever in admitting that I cream over this song. Well, not literally. But I still :heart: it. Because love doesn't cover it.

In fact, f*ck it. Tonight is Great Power Ballads night.

Alone (Heart) I've lost count of the number of times I have drunkenly belted this out in public. What's scary is that I catually sound pretty good even according to other people (who, admittedly, are usually nearly as sh!tfaced as moi). I can only do two things with my singing voice (faux-death growl or castrati) and neither sound very good, but they're effective. This cover isn't bad either for American Idol, but the over-emoting in the first verse is a little greating. I actually like La Princesa's chorus better than the original though - don't hate me, it's not like any of you are Heart fans anyway.

So anyway, what's up with y'all motherf*ckers? Nah, I don't care anyway. I've been busy doing my usual thing - wasting time, recording demos before getting rid of them, drinking and studying. Generally in that order.

Floods (Pantera) This is the anti-ballad. It veers between soft and HOLY MOTHER OF GOD loud, has one of the greatest guitar solos of all time and tells a story of a giant flood.

Speaking of floods, I'd just like to ask all of you to keep the victims of the recent tsunami in Samoa in your thoughts. I have a friend from school who's grandmother was killed by the wavean, with NZ's Samoan community being as large as it is, I'm sure there are many more who did so the crisis really hits home here. Please keep them in your thoughts and, if you're religious, your prayers.

Champagne Supernova (Oasis) I'm not sure if you'd call this a power ballad, but I do so that's the end of that. Plus, too much hair metal makes me nauseous. I'm sure that there's a place in hell reserved for me anyway after I paused Arcade Fire to research this list...but there's a place in hell for me for listening to Arcade Fire willingly anyway. And the hair metal place has horny, slutty women. I'll take hair metal hell over indie hell.

Anyway, I've got other news - I'm moving to Australia for good next year. The main reasons being that Auckland weather really crawls up my arse and since I have to visit my family whether I like it or not, I'd rather not have to fly to get there. I'm not sure where I'm going yet though.

Pour Some Sugar On Me (Def Leppard) I use a mash-up of this and NIN's Closer as my stripper songs. Not that I strip much, of course.

The only thing keeping me in NZ was the idea that I had to do law, but I actually saw my mum last weekend (visit) and told her I don't want to do law. Surprisingly, she was cool about it. Basically she told me that as long as I do what I want to be doing, that's important. Although I guess the fact that she's not paying for it helps chill her out. Dad (who is paying) was a little harder, but ultimately agreed as long as I agreed to do another degree of some kind once I got my BA. I'm already planning to do a masters in Sociology anyway, so that doesn't bother me. I want to do something either in the vein of teenage subcultures or the impact of popular music on society and it's links to politics. But I got three more years to decide.

Fade To Black (Metallica) Ah, cla$$ic Metallica. Can you beat it? (The answer is no). I tried to pick up a girl in one of my pop music tutorials who loved Metallica by demonstrating my knowledge on them (which is encyclopaedic) and while I failed, I failed with dignity. And I got a beer for my trouble. Beer is nice.

In fact, I'm going to drink beer right now. Piss off.

...and his love, won't leave me behind."
It's mine, obviously. No one other than some other teenage emo kid could pull that off.

Anyway, it's two years to today since Sharky officially died. And yes, I have managed to finally realise that he isn't coming back. But I still love him like I have never loved anyone else and probably never will. Not a day goes by when I don't wish we could have hung out one last time, just the two of us and a six pack and a bong, watching TV. Or cruising around in his old 72 Falcon, still the coolest car ever (as much as I love you TJ, F*CK YOU for writing it off).

911 Is A Joke (Public Enemy). In many ways, Sharky was Chuck D to my Flavor Flav. (That is, pre Surreal Life and all the other BS that came after that). I provided the insanity and comic relief to his perfection. Only when it was my time to stand up on my own, I think I'm doing a good job. Just like Flav did on this track. Now I can only hope that I don't go down his path.

I really don't have much else to say. Just remember that life is short and there's nothing to do but f*ckin live it. You know what I mean?

You see, my friends, acquaintances, well-wishers and Internet randoms, on Saturday a friend of mine was having his 21st, and a couple of others were having recent birthdays. And they had hired out a nearby bar with a bartab. $2 beer. OK, now you see the picture. And obviously, the moment I heard the words "$2 beer" I abandoned all other plans I had for Saturday (Well, I had none anyway) and palnned to blow my entire weekly allowance from Dad on a night of insanity.

I showed up early (as I'm want to do when there's cheap alcohol on offer) and started laying into it. By the time most of the others showed up, I had managed to already get fairly drunk (lightweightness FTW) and make a knob of myself. However, my biggest dickhead moment came when I told one of my favourite girl friends (the space denotes that she's a mate, not a date) that I wouldn't date her. Now this girl is not only an awesome human being, but she's hot. If she wanted to date me, I would of course say yes. Anyway, while she didn't seem too fussed at the time I mentioned that she wouldn't date me anyway. Her response was "maybe I will" but that was the alcohol talking. (In hindsight, maybe I should have offered to take her offer but, like I said, the alcohol had taken over my brain as well).

Anyway, later on the party eventually died down somewhat early Sunday morning and she decided to take the show on the road. Even though I was quite drunk by now, does anyone really think I wouldn't take the opportunity for more drinking/partying? We (a group of about went to a small club somewhere downtown near the Viaduct (anyone who remembers the Americas Cup in Auckland in 2000 and 2003 probs knows the Viaduct) and mostly sat around. Of course, I started hitting the booze again and eventually I spewed, something I rarely do. I blame Ben's dirty martinis with Baileys (he got a round for all of us) - not a drink I recommend. I also am fairly sure I smoked a few times because I could taste the cigarettes all Sunday. Anyway, one thing led to another and they put me in a cab and I made it home by about 4am.

Then came my collossal dick move. I'm convinced that there should be a law against me going within 10 metres of any technological implement when I'm drunk because of my tendency to say/do very stupid things. This time, I posted on her facebook page something relating to a booze-fueled apology of "rejection" and to do with my preference for brunettes and scene chicks. While these are true, I didn't need to say them. And her response was basically a taunt to moi. Now given the extreme fragility of my ego, especially given my almost five month dry spell, what was probably a joke between friends turned into me holing up in my room all day drinking cheap tequila (just a day after I once again vowed to never drink again after waking up with a nasty hangover and upset stomach).

So how does this tie into me being a GOC? Because I've decided to swear off any hard-core partying for the rest of the year. I'm not drying out - that's impossible - but I'm not going to go out with the sole intent of getting wasted. Cause these days, trying to get laid is almost secondary to getting pissed. I can't even bring myself to hit a gay bar, although given that I'm not fond of anal sex that's understandable.

So a sobriety pledge of sorts. What else?

Rumour is that Bowie (yes, that Bowie) is gonna be playing at Big Day Out next year, possibly an acoustic set before Muse. Now I don't care who you are, Bowie is a legend and to see him live would be a big deal. Plus, my mum would gladly pay for it. Hell, she'd probably want to go. Bowie, Muse and the rumours of Placebo (one of my favourite bands of the moment) would probably make next year a much better year than the past two failures (despite Rage and Neil Young as headliners).

Otherwise, nothing. Got sh!t to study and stuff.

Later, wankers.

...ice deposits."
- Summer Babe (Winter Version) (Pavement)

Today is Pavement day for two reasons.
- they're reuniting next year for a world tour.
- I saw Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks yesterday.

Spit on a Stranger (Pavement)

Pavement are reuniting, according to Pitchfork (who I don't trust except on these matters). It's official. Even if they've only announced one date so far in NY. And given Malkmus' fondness for New Zealand and particularly the Dunedin Sound, I'm sure that if they come down under they'll fit in at least one NZ date.

And since one of my goals in life is to attend Coachella, what better year than to see Pavement, who will surely headline next year?

Cut Your Hair (Pavement)

And the gig? In all honesty, I was completely out of it about halfway through Malkmus' set. The opening band, our own legendary Verlaines, played one of THE great supporting sets, setting a high bar. But the Jicks cleared it easily. I had heard that they were more of a jam band than anything and as such I had taked a couple of acid hits in case it got too much, but it was nothing like that. What we did get was a tight set of indie guitar-rock that managed to be frenetic yet chilled in the way only a Stephen Malkmus song can be.

Unfortunately, I was also drinking a lot (aided by my loyal sidekick Hemanth and his mates) and by about halfway I wasn't far from doing a Hemanth (comaing in a gutter). So most of the rest of the set was a blur.

Death and the Maiden (The Verlaines) They have to get at least one song. Plus, Malkmus covered this a few years ago for a Flying Nun tribute.

In another cruel twist of fate, though, my mates all bailed on me (both Hemanth's crew and Benji and Martin and their mates) leaving me $2 short for the night bus, so I had to walk home. Again. While ridiculously drunk. I carry a switchblade whenever I go out (it's illegal, but a skinny little f*ck like me's gotta protect himself) but I could still feel fear beneath all the booze. Somehow I made it home in one piece without feeling like I got raped. I don't know how. I've done it while somwhat sober, but this was stumbling-around sh!tfaced.

Anyway, I'm alive. And I have a bunch of new songs.

Go in peace.

- Grimwolf, yesterday, at some random Kings Cross club. He was somewhat inebriated.

I've been on semester break for the past week and have a few more days to go. This time, it's all at my dad's place cause Mum and Gavin are in Croatia meeting some of his mum's family. She died some years ago, but they still want to meet her. They come back tomorrow but I only have to go to the kid's birthday party on Saturday. Which is OK with me, as it gives me more chances to corrupt her friends.

Anyway, since Grimwolf has scarped the cash together for a week long pilgrimage this time and Dad's more than happy to have him, things were looking up until yesterday, when I heard that my Grandma got pneumonia and a chest infection and got rushed to hospital. And she's had this problem for years, but they say this time it's serious.

Drive (Incubus)

I'm kinda down in the dumps right now. I can't even bring myself to go out and enjoy the surf. I know I'm not exactly the best person in the world (in fact I'm frankly a horrible human being) but I don't know why karma seems so determined in kicking me so hard. My aunt and best friend's dad in the space of 24 hours, then just as I'm getting over them now this?

God, I promise you this. If you save my grandma, I will clean myself up. I am serious. I will quit drinking and partying, and I'll even work on the swearing thing.

Yours truly,

Ash.

As I discovered last night. One of the great things about being 18 is being able to go to R18 gigs, and I took advantage of that last night to make an appearance at Whammy Bar downtown. Cause I'm mates with the lead guitarist from the Nevernudes and because half their band is under 18, guess who took all their free drinks. Plus, I was already quite hammered when I went to the gig.

Unfortunately, all the alcohol resulted in me climbing a 2m high PA tower and stage-diving...into three people. Somehow they caught me (one of the benefits of being a midget) but I had to buy them drinks afterwards.

Considering the past two weeks, however, that was mild. Two weeks ago I went to an EP release party where I made out with two guys (a couple) at once, interpretive danced with one of them as his BF looked on (apparently that's normal Friday night behaviour for him) and stage-dived again, this time into a bigger group. And drunk a lot of alcohol so I had to wait one hour for the Night Rider bus to pick me up. Then on Saturday I got even more drunk and once again, stage-dived, but this time it was more stage-jumping as the stage was on the same level as us. As well as giving a hot girl a black eye after she got into the pit (hey, I'm an equal-opportunity mosher. Whether you're male or female, black or white, dog or cat, whatever, if you get into the pit I'm gonna give you hell).

Last Friday was just insane as well. One of my mates scored a scholarship to Yale, so it was his going-away party. I hardly remember any of it (always a bad sign, must be the Jager talking) but from what I heard I:
- crashed into a sign and knocked it over
- challenged Verity to a drinking contest after I'd conclusively proved my light-weightness
- got kicked out of a club for grabbing some girl's arse
- wasn't allowed into another club because of my torn up jeans and hoodie
- tried to get a barmaid's number
- almost ruled the dance floor before those noobs decided to leave
- got punched in the face by some random girl at another club (explains the bruised cheekbone - that must have been a solid punch)
- proposed eternal love to Gretta twice, once while she was there
- pole danced on a bus stop sign
- started smoking again after kicking the habit a year ago
- owe the other guys $20 for a cab

All I remember is waking up in the fountain across the road from my house in my own vomit. With a barely-healed cut on my hand and the afore-mentioned bruised cheek. I'm not sure how much truth there is in any of these allegations as they're all second hand. I only remember having a few glasses of wine, a few champers and a couple of beers at dinner. And I do know I started smoking again because I accepted a cigarette yesterday. Thankfully I don't actually enjoy it much, so I know I won't get addicted. My one true addiction is alcohol and I don't want to add more.

Oh well. Youth and stupidity only lasts for so long. At some point I'm gonna have to kick the booze, but for now f*ck that sh!t.

Oh yeah, I also have found my calling in Psychology and Sociology. I know what I want to do now; question is convincing my doctor parents, none of whom (biological or step) have a high opinion of either discipline, to pay for me.

And, just to add to everything, I found out Noel G has quit Oasis. While this does suck as I'll never be able to see them live, I'm gonna hang out for his solo album. If it's half as good as Definitely Maybe or Morning Glory, I'll love it for sure.

Later, MFers.

I've just been too f*cking lazy to do a full blown blog the last two months or so. Plus, I've also had a minor Facebook addiction.

But I am back, and while I'm not gonna be blogging as much as I used to, I'll definitely pay you wankers a visit from time to time.

Albatross (Corrosion of Conformity) Corrosion of Conformity are my current musical obsession. In hindsight, since they play exactly the kind of music I love, it's kinda surprising that I haven't hooked onto them before today. But whatever.

So what have I been up to? I'd like to say I've been living the rockstar life of parties, chicks and excessive drinking and drugs. So that's exactly what I'm gonna say.

Anyway, I have heavier sh!t to discuss. It's coming up to that time of year when they announce the lineups for the summer festivals. Soundwave just dropped theirs on us yesterday - Faith No More to headline, My Chemical Romance, Jane's Addiction, HIM, Clutch, Anti-Flag and a reunited Sunny Day Real Estate (with Nate Mendel) all on the bill. I came a little and vowed that I will be there this year. As Big Day Out gets progressively lamer each year, Soundwave gets better and better.

So what about BDO? Because whatever happens, they are still the 900-pound gorilla of music festivals in our part of the world. With a few weeks before they announce next year's headliners, it's time to speculate.

In recent years, BDO has taken a more indie turn (Arcade Fire and Bjork two years ago, Arctic Monkeys, TV On The Radio and My Morning Jacket last year) but Neil Young as headliner last year was a huge mistake. Nothing against Neil whatsoever, because he is still a f*cking legend. It's just tha, for BDO, you can have whatever during the day but the headliner kind of needs to be a big, dumb, loud metal/rock act who the kids and drunks can either sing, dance, mosh or a combination of the three to.

I've been doing a little research, and word on the interwebz is that Blink 182 have been offered the headliners slot and might well take it. If so, unless the rest of the lineup absolutely rips arse (I'm talking Dinosaur Jr, Sonic Youth, My Bloody Valentine, Oasis and Mastodon) I'm not gonna bother going and will just save for Soundwave. I like Blink, but not enough to wade through sh!t just to see them. Depeche Mode and Paul McCartney are also rumoured, but once again after Neil Young I'm sure the organisers will go for an act who can get the kids in.

Personally, this would be my dream semi-realistic lineup. Although it would probably cost too much.

Metallica
Oasis
Weezer
Alice In Chains
Dinosaur Jr
MBV
Sonic Youth
Shihad
The Living End
and a bunch of my favourite local acts.

Speaking of local acts, do yourselves a favour and check out http://muzairecords.com/ MUZAI are an Auckland label who distribute all our good bands. And believe me, I had no idea this sh!tty town had so many great bands. I'll call it here - MUZAI are our Sub Pop.

Peace out.

...each other"
- Acquiesce (Oasis)

I've realised I start a lot of blogs with Oasis songs. Which mirrors my daily life a lot. I find that nothing can get me out of bed like Definitely Maybe or Morning Glory. Course, as everyone knows they went sh!t after that but their two newer albums are good enough.

Anyway, in the immortal words of Professor Hubert Farnsworth, "Good news everyone!" I got a text from Flash yesterday. He's scored a slot on V (local MTV-wannabe channel)'s dating show Taken Out, where basically 30 guys (or girls) spend a week ogling a hot girl (or guy) as he explains why they should go out with them. The contestants get to choose whether they want to or not, and once the field is narrowed down enough the girl gets to narrow the field down enough until she gets three, then she asks them a couple of questions until she finds the one.

And the good part for me is that if he makes it to the final Friday (i.e. if one of the girls doesn't pick him first) he's got a spot in the studio audience for me. It's down in Melbourne, but that's no big deal - we get back on Thursday and I'll just use some of my sweet dare money (i.e. what I don't use for drugs, booze and tourist sh!t) to catch a bus down and go get hammered with my bro. If he doesn't win. Not that he will unless the girl has a particular thing for big blond boofheads with a mullet.

Still, I'll be cheering for him. And if he wins and gets laid, I've promised him I'll reimburse him any money he spends on the girl.

The Talking Horse (The Melvins)

I'm gonna go do more of what I've been doing lately. Rolling joints, smoking them, eating and giggling at the cheesiness of MTV dating shows.

...and not know where I've been,
I'd like to build myself a house, out of plasticine."
- Shakermaker (Oasis)

The first two lines are some of my all time favourite lyrics. I don't think there's many people out there who don't wish they could be somebody else, even if only for a little while. Like I know I've wished many times that I could be Batman. Other times, I've wished I could be anyone but me.

Voodoo (Godsmack)

In other words, f*ck Asian build quality. Seriously. Why? Well, I got to Mum's last night, and since Gavin is away, Grandma's gone home and she's working uber-long shifts, I'm spending most of the day babysitting the kid. And I just went for a shower. Only to be told by my sis that somehow the water was leaking downstairs and the floor was waterlogged. I honestly, for the life of me, can't figure out how in the name of f*cking Jesus, Allah, Jewish God and Tom Cruise this happened. And to cap it off, our lights aren't working. It's gonna be hard at night.

The c*nt who built the house (and charges exorbitant rent for leaky floors, dodgy electronics and extremely creaky stairs among others) lives in the other half of the duplex. And even though Mum told me not to, I'm extremely tempted to go and give him a piece of my mind. A very angry, profane piece.

Gives You Hell (All-American Rejects) One of the better pop-rock cheese songs lately. At least it has a good hook.

Anyway, I've gotta go clean up some more. It's still leaking. F*ck.

And not in the good way. The ice frozen way.

Can't Stop (Red Hot Chili Peppers)

Why? Well, this morning I went for a walk on the beach since me and Dad are visiting one of his old mates down on the South Coast. For some reason, I was up early, and I ran into a couple of the locals.

One thing led to another, and I ended up accepting a $500 dare to strip butt naked and jump off the pier. Into the freezing cold ocean. At 7am. Rips going crazy. And I'm not exactly the greatest swimmer.

I did survive (barely) but I suspect I might have hypothermia as it's 3pm and I'm still freezing despite sitting in the hot water cupboard all day. I spent at least 20 minutes in the water cause I got caught in a rip and got carried out a fair way - luckily any longtime surfer knows when you're caught in a rip, the best thing to do is ride it out and swim back to shore. Only this just prolonged the agony - I had to be pretty much carried out once I got back to shore.

Would I do it again? For another $500, yes. I am a total whore.

Starseed (Our Lady Peace)

I'm gonna go have another hot shower. If I'm still freezing, I'll call Dad, him being the doctor and all.

I heard that he'd been admitted to hospital yesterday, but I just found out from TMZ that he was dead.

However messed up he was, nothing can change the fact that he was a f*cking legend and should be respected as such.

RIP Michael Jackson. One can only hope your soul has met some kind of rest.

Smooth Criminal

The Way You Make Me Feel

Don't Stop Till You Get Enough

Beat It

..of the fire"
- We Are The Pigs (Suede) Suede only ever made two decent albums, but those two albums had some great singles. This is probably their best (anyone who says Animal Nitrate can suck a big one).

Got absolutely nothing to talk about. Mostly been sprawled on the couch getting stoned out of my mind and eating pizza. And playing Stick Baseball on the computer.

Butterfly (Screaming Trees) The Trees aren't great weed music, but are almost unbeatable with good acid.

And I got Grimwolf on MSN and we were taking bets as to how long it takes for Miley Cyrus to do a Britney. I gave her five years. Grimwolf reckons three.
http://www.bastardly.com/2009-jailbait-alert-billy-ray-cyrus-whores-out-miley-cyrus-to-the-paparazzi-0517?page=0,1 Gotta admit, she's got a decent rack for 16.

She Comes Into The Fall (Inspiral Carpets)

I also managed to get a 45 day ban from Ultimate Guitar. Turns out telling some n00b to step in front of a truck is a bannable offence these days.

I Get Knocked Down (Chumbawumba) Yes I know that's not the actual title. No I don't give a f*ck. But it still boggled my mind how they've had a 25 year career and never managed to make another song half as catchy and annoying. You still can't go to a footy match on a Saturday without this playing at some point.

Anyway, check this out also. The creepiest love song ever according to some guy who said so in a book. So it must be true. And if you ignore the High School Musical pics (which actually make sense if you've ever seen/been forced to see one or more of the movies) and focus on the lyrics, especially the spoken word bit at the end, it makes total sense. Although I have one song of my own that is even creepier. No it's nothing to do with incest, but it's as f*cked up.

Since we're talking sex and HSM, I told my sister and her friends when I was watching them yesterday (why pay for a babysitter when you have a free one?) about the subliminal messages in High School Musical which allude to Gabriella and Sharpay's secret crush on each other and the Troy-Chad-Ryan love triangle, where Ryan has an unrequited crush on Troy who only expresses love for Chad. Seriously. I honestly think I might just have the world's sickest mind. You do not want to know any more. Trust me. I might make this into a slash fan fiction story. It's fleshed out enough.

Jeremy (Pearl Jam)

I'm off to roll another joint, eat more pizza and drink another beer. While watching more bad TV. My life is so full.