Monday, April 30, 2007

Pants on fire...

I keep getting emails from all kinds of people who I've never met, basically saying "Oh knifey, you're so amazing and honest! I wish I could find a guy like you", and to those people, I say "No, you don't."

Apart from the intrinsic and unstated insult of getting by on my personality and not my looks (shut it), these emails hit me in all the wrong places because I'm the biggest liar you've never met.

Sure, I lie all the time. About all kinds of things. And I'm awesome at denial, so I guess I'm no better than you after all.

Go figure.

So in the spirit of lifting the bedcovers on the real knifenstein, let's have a look at all the little lies I tell. And I have to warn you, some parts of this are SO HONEST, I am 100% guaranteed to regret typing them, for real. With a little luck, the people from my planet who like to look in and judge me will have gotten bored a while ago, and won't read it anyway. That's...

...LIE NUMBER ONE, right there. Yup, I tell myself I'm finally free of the judgement and the hate of one particular person in particular, but the particular truth of this is that I will never be free of it. Not ever. and that is particularly difficult to live with, when all you want to do is get better and be a human being and even do some good in the world. So, I'm not honest at all, I censor everything I say and think, and try to act nonchalant, when most of my RAM is devoted to acting nonchalant to cover up the massive hole in me that knows I'm very sad underneath it all. *Big smile!*

LIE NUMBER TWO is nowhere near as intense, and basically revolves around the fact that I'm a shit graphic designer/artist, and I know it. I have always known it, but somehow I still lie to myself every now and then, buy a few hundred dollars worth of design magazines, and tell myself I'm being creative/gaining inspiration by reading them. Reading 'Lino' on the toilet doesn't make you a graphic artist, dweeb. Neither does going to design school. Everyone knows you have to wear argyle sweater vests and thick glasses, corduroy trousers (not pants), and have an apple laptop. Anyone else is an imposter.

LIE NUMBER THREE is when I tell myself I'm this relaxed peaceful guy (which, you know, 99% of the time I am), and then someone acts so far out of line it's now a circle, and I'm seeing the red mist. And while admittedly, it's been a very long time since I actually took someone in hand so to speak, and showed them how to do things my way, I still get the urge quite often. And then, you know, I tell myself I'm this peaceful and relaxed guy. A truly at-peace individual would just float right past a situation like that, and wouldn't let it get to them, but then Gandhi was like that, and look at where that got him. (He's dead, in case you didn't know).

LIE NUMBER FOUR. Sometimes, I get emails from girls. It's true. And sometimes, those emails are "all like, omg, we shld defo hook up! ur tattz r so hott!" And I think HOLY CRAP!!!! WHERE DO RERTADS (sic) LIKE THIS SPAWN FROM???!! So you know, I'm on my high and mighty chair, judging the living crap out of some young girls who are clearly easily excited, and may very well be nice people behind all the spelling and punctuation errors. And at exactly the same time, I am notorious for spelling and punctutation errors, the only difference is, I'm unaware of them, and so it all looks fine to me. What an ass! These girls probably get A's in English, and just like to write SMS style, because it saves valuable time when communicating via the web. I can't do maths either. Or dance. Bet they can. Ass.

LIE NUMBER FIVE. I hate smoking. That part is true. I have never tried it. Having toured all over the world and been to a bazillion bars though, I know all about everyone else's. It makes me unhappy, I don't understand why I can't just breathe. Also all true. I hate the term "non-smoker". What? Are you a non shit-eater if you don't eat shit as well? How does it come to pass I can be a 'non-something', when the something in question, is diametrically opposed to what the individual would be doing in their natural state? You get what I'm saying, right? And so, ages ago, I became really militant about smokers. I decided I hate them all, to the extent that if someone is smoking outside my shop, then they come in, I tell them to leave again, because I ain't selling them a god-damn thing. Militant. And when I get asked out on a date, which (honestly) happens between one and eight times a day, if they smoke, they get the big rejection. And then whaddya know, on the cover of the April 18 edition of the Melbourne Times (Fairfax Community Network- AKA: Pro-Smoking Central), where there, as big as you like is (an obviously designed to obliterate your bias) picture with a girl so hot and cute she must have been grown in a lab, smoking. And she is so hot and cute, I'd eat the corn out of her shit. She's so hot and cute, if she asked me out on a date, and was smoking, I'd be there anyway.

See what I mean?

SO that makes me a liar, and her probably really embarassed if she's reading this (and we all know you are). Call me.

LIE NUMBER SIX. I still measure time, and how much things have changed, by counting forward from the day 'she' left. I really do. Even my best friends don't know that. Now we all do. The internet!

LIE NUMBER SEVEN. For all my talk of growing, and evolving, and all that stuff, the real truth is I will never get past a certain point, because I am horrendously superficial. I hate it in other people, but I've got the worst case yet. I only like beautiful things, and beautiful people. Sure, if they're ugly on the inside, the door is over there. But I am hardwired to that mode of thinking. I will never be with a less than beautiful girl. So if you're reading this, and I've slept with you (right now, there are about 200 girls all over the Eastern seaboard of Australia thinking "That's me!"), then yeah, you're beautiful. Very, even. And that makes me a repugnant piece of crap, because the nicest people I have ever met have also been the plainest.

LIE NUMBER EIGHT. This is related to number 6. The nice girls are the plainest, and I tell myself I'm different somehow, when the truth that I run from at every opportunity is that I too, am plain. There's nothing hot or awesome about the way I look, and I know it. I know what Jude Law looks like, or whoever else is genuinely hot. The Rock is hot. Ewan MacGregor is hot (Hi Ewan, if you're Googling yourself! You'll always be Obi Wan to me!) Anyway, I'm not. What a fucked up retrad I'm turning out to be! I wish I could change that...I don't know how. And also I don't really want to. Damn.

LIE NUMBER NINE. The real reason I do so much charity work, not for profit work, or just help people out style work, is because I feel rotten about the way I have lived my life up until say, 8 months ago. If I didn't feel bad, I'm sure I'd be reading a good book (or a design mag on the toilet), feeling great. I'm so greedy, I know this. Seeking forgiveness does not equal being a good person. I'm just running from demons, which is what happens when you sell your soul to the devil. And make no mistake, that is exactly what I have done. I have been a greedy and evil person, and I can't just move on from that. So I have a lot of work to do.

LIE NUMBER TEN, and this will be our final confession, or we'll be here all night. I walk through life, smiling at people and acting all cocky and shit, and the people think "knifey really knows what he's doing. He's got a plan! he's making things happen!"

No I don't.

I'm running around, terrified of dying, trying to leave a mark on the world (a good one!), and I'm 100% blind. I don't have the faintest idea what I'm doing. There is no plan. I'll run with a good idea when one comes up, but there's no method to it. That's why I have three jobs and a band that tours internationally (Canadian, American, Turkish, European, and Russian friends, hit me up! I'm coming your way this September!). Because I have no idea where to draw the line, and because I want to be rich, and I want to be remembered after I'm dead for something other than mass murder. And all that equals massive amounts of insecurity, which makes me a liar, because my denial has been telling me I haven't had time to be insecure. Truth is, there is always time.

So I guess what I'm saying is, if I don't know you, and you want to send me an email, you know, don't. Your life might feel all crazy off the rails, but I don't have the answers you're looking for. I don't have the answers I'm looking for. And the sad harsh truth is that if you're going to write to a guy called 'knifey' for life advice, you're in worse shape than you think.

I'm going to the toilet, reading 'Lino' and 'Wallpaper', and hitting the sack, all alone, because none of the nice people I know who are nice enough to like me, are hot enough for me to like back.

Like the asshole I most certainly am.

This is knifey, from 'the internet'.

Friday, April 06, 2007

Today is important because...

...we all need to put aside a little time and contemplate the supreme sacrifice the Easter Bunny made for us all, on this day, 56 million years ago (when rabbits where proto-rodents around 300 feet tall, and used to eat pine trees).

Remember, chocolate is good for you, as long as you NEVER EAT IT, OR EVEN LOOK AT IT. If you smell some, that's ok, but don't be like those kids down at the service station huffing chocolate eggs and caramel creme. Show some panache y'all.

I wish you all the happiest of days off, and hope you all put it to good use. Try not acting like a dick today, and see how that goes. I think if everyone on Earth did that one day a year, the world would be 1/365'th better, give or take 5, carry the one.

I am totally high on 2-stroke petrol right occupation is DANGEROUS.