Well, jumping on the computer today, I created this new account for my blog in the time it took for my previous myspace blog to load up. Case in point, for why I am changing. No more advertising for the bands I don't listen to, status updates from people who use (phrases?) like 'lol', like that is punctuation, and who can't find the apostrophe on the keyboard, or the shift key for the word I.
I'm not a myspace person, or a youtube person, I'm not a chain emailing hey lets regurgitate a bunch of power point slide shows about love and kittens and you really are my best friend type of person, I'm not a name dropper for the indie bands that I guess I should have heard of by now. Because I haven't. I'm not up with things, across the issue, or knowing where its at. I'm not deliberately trying to define myself or triangulate my stance here simply by rattling of a list of negations. I'm not unaware of the irony. I'm not saying weather I'm writing this with a straight face, or what I'm wearing, or not, I'm not venturing guesses as to your attire right now either (but really...come one, have a bit of decency, geez). I'm not trying to string this out for its own sake. I'm not lying. I'm not nearly as funny as I think I am. I'm not gonna let that bother me. I-AM gonna let that bother you.
I'm not clever, not exactly stupid either, but you might not know it, I just have this kind of well... if the idea doesn't fit, use a bigger hammer approach to things.
I define irascible without being sure of exactly how to spell it. I made five or six attempts finding an address for this thing that wasn't taken (who the hell else wanted 'brainthatweighsatun' -that's not even how you spell... tonne. Ah never mind.
So here it is. The second blogging of Randall Stephens. You can reference all my previous stuff (about 170 entries going back to July 2006) at: www.myspace.com/brainthatweighsatun
I write poetry, or at least some crude bastardized vaguely hip hop-pun inspired version of it. I am not being self-deprecating (if a little deconstructionist and cutely post modern about it).
I'm currently travelling, today is the 201st day since I left my hometown of Melbourne, Australia, 8 countries down, 4 more to go. A not-so-small fortune spent in the last few months, and all so I can sit around Kathmandu wearing my Grandad's old cangoe, drink cheap coffee and scribble my way through the varying intellectual, emotional and physical instabilities I engender through these voyages. Interspersing that with the occasional travel observation, doomed-romance, religion-bashing or genuine piece of self-loathing. Of course, I do do a little more than this while on the road, but the above is the only activity that produces written material.
Uh, what else. I hate hippies but am slowly turning into one. I'm kind of left but can't stand most other lefties . I'll try and keep everything here as hypocritical and preposterous as possible, and you'll keep reading with that a mixture of enthusiasm and aghast disgust that I work to bring into this world. Deal?
(or for that matter, girl, excuse me, woman, or non-gendered pronoun preferring type-person, or hermaphrodite or disembodied consciousness, evil spirit, hungry ghost, or vicious piece of software whom is randomly probing the net and found this blog and might hack into it to fill it with porn like my ex did once and I'm still mad about that okay maybe she didn't actually hack it but somehow knew my passwords but either way she outsmarted me and it was shit and I know it was ages ago and I should get over it but getting over things is not really what poets do because we are the lot of us by necessity histrionic crybabies without any emotional sophistication and if you were it would hardly make for interesting stories like for example that time I....) . Anyway, whomever or whatever you are, thanks for reading.
I will endeavour to entertain more than I offend, but that is by no means a promise.