kitsunegari: (Default)
( Sep. 12th, 2007 09:43 am)
i has been creative.

go look

[profile] git_phuqd

til next....
~Kits~ (not at uni because of work related injury preventing her from sitting in those damn lecture hall chairs without pain)
kitsunegari: (Default)
( Jun. 9th, 2007 09:59 am)
the house was asleep.
it was silent and still
with wind in the trees
and dust on the sill
kitsunegari was cosy and snug
reclining and comfy with her stainless steel mug.
she sipped on her coffee
wriggled the sleep from her toes
and breathed in the fresh cold air
through her slightly blocked nose.

she clacked on her keyboard
shifted in her seat
was almost ready to eat.
then a murmer of noise
filled her with dread
could the monkey be waking
stirring in his bed?

pensively listening
awaiting more sound
but it did not continue
it stayed quiet for now.

back to the internet
with calm and good cheer
had nothing to fear.
then, without warning
a fate worse than death
the plunger was empty
there was no coffee left!

a silent cry of woe
escaped from her lips
and she savoured the flavour
of all remaining sips.
sooner, not later
the coffee was gone
was now all alone.

the house was asleep.
it was silent and still
with wind in the trees
and dust on the sill.
kitsunegari was cosy and snug
reclining and comfy with an empty coffee mug
the coffee all gone
and the air still quite cold
she stayed wrapped in her hoodie
and through eljay she trolled.


til next....
~Kits~ (creative)
had i not been 'too ill' to work on saturday night i would not have been able to FINALLY catch an episode of "The Sideshow"

had i not caught sight of this program i would not have reignited my 'muse'.

damn that man.

his 'muse'-ness disappeared many years ago, but last saturday's show brought it back when i happened across this song which was the basis to my own song "Reflection". after hearing him perform it live with GUD (a couple of my friends out there  know the show i'm talking about; looking at [profile] cool_boof and [personal profile] debs7 *coughbootlegcough*), i taught myself to play it on guitar.

i understand now why pots dislikes him so much. this guy has been my number one man for far too long. it's hard to give up something that brings so much. but paul only brings inspiration, pots brings more, though he is still jealous. i would have thought that a man with pots' intelligence would have worked out what it is i see in mcderbrain is merely the creativity i see in myself. still, inspiration is a lot, and i suppose pots is jealous that he doesn't provide as much creative inspiration as the angry dwarf. i've not even mentioned him my journal since something like, 2002.

fuck. i've missed that man. i cried when i heard the first chords being played by cameron; i knew instantly what the song was and i travelled. once again paul showcases himself as a wonderful wordsmith. i am soooo jealous.

thank you ABC.  thank you GNWTV. and thank YOU, TED ROBINSON!

i feel more wonderful writings coming up in the future (assuming pots allows me to watch the show again. well, he never watched "The Big Gig", so he just doesn't get it).

til next....
~Kits~ (oh gods. the 'issues' are going to start again, aren't they? *stares imploringly at [profile] c4c*)

ps: i'm sure i'm also the only one to have written GUD slash. or at least the first to. i should find that story... i find it amusing.

pps: i should think about sleeping sometime within the next 8 hours as well. i think i'm becoming stupidly delerious (more so than ususal). though, in the past, this has boosted creative output, not necessarily for the best, but certainly for the volume - i tend to ramble.
to my 'dearest' and most 'endearing' dry goods manager

i'm not entirely sure where you learned your people skills, but i think you should enrol yourself in a refresher course and brush up on them. see, as a child, i was taught to look at a person when they are talking to me. not sit hunched over my desk in my dungeon office and try to pretend they're not really there. it's called 'courtesy'. and considering you're not all that much older than i am, if not close to being the same age as me, i'm sure you would have had a brush with it in your childhood also.

so, when i approach you in relation to a matter YOU advertised for staff to come forward and announce their interest, your response is not, "*smokers cough* *mumble* *smokers cough*" while not bothering to turn your head in my direction. there is a reason no one in our store likes you. even the fresh produce girls laugh at you, and they're ot even in your department having to actually deal with you're 'enigmatic and electric' personality. the correct response in such situations is the following:

"Dry Goods Manager?" enquires the interested staff member as she knocks on the door.
Turning from his desk and randomly stapled together pieces of paper "Yes, Staff Member?"
"I'm hoping to have a chat about the position you've got advertised in the staff room. About taking over the role of Leaving Staff Member."
"Ah, yes.", nodding in rememberance.
"I'm keen and have spoken to Line Manager and he can't see why not."
"Okay. Well, I can't discuss it right now. How about I contact you about it later to discuss this further?"
Smiling, "Sure. Thanks a lot."

try treating your staff with more respect and perhaps they'll stop laughing at you behind your back.

yours with sincerity
the only staff member to have approached you about the position.

cross posted

[ profile] git_phuqd

this was a word challenge set by pots.

the word was INSOUCIANCE.

i think i won a prize :)

til next....
~Kits~ (that'll be the first tune i've written this year)
dear santa

i've been thinking about this whole thing. this whole, christmas thing. and quite frankly: i couldn't give a toss.
i don't care in the slightest if you leave me a lump of coal, refuse to bring me a thing, or simply fly past my house.
i just simply don't get it.

all that i've been lead to believe about this time of year seems based on some kind of religious event.
so, i ask: where do you fit in? how did you become a figure so revered?

i'm not a person of faith, so why should i make believe that i am?

it vexes me that such... such reverence is placed on such a creation of imagination (more so than not).
i'm not saying that you are pure imagination (i'm sure there is truth embedded in there somewhere, it's simply hidden),it's just that, in the form i've been subject to over these modern years, appears as nothing more than creation of a fertile mind.

and the idea of you creeping into my house at night, in these dark days, is far more frightening than any ghost story i've ever heard around a camp fire.

so, i'm not writing to you to ask for something i neither need, want nor desire. instead, i'm writing to express to you my thoughts and notions.
to question you as i question many things. perhpas, then, that is the gift i seek. it is not something i desire, or need, or want, it's merely a curiosty that requires quenching.

would you do that for me?
could you do that for me?
will you do that for me?


okay. so act two of night watch is currently transcoding, which gives me a couple of hours to waste while it does.
act one has been done and looks and sounds fabulous.

i've just printed out the dvd covers and they look great!

have also just finished designing the dvd disc design, which isn't as brilliant as i would have liked, but what can you do with cheap equipment and the 'came with the printer' software?

overall, the project is coming along swimmingly and i'm less stressed than in the past in relation to these particular things i do.

i could almost go out and start a business in this sort of thing.

cheap ass dvds for you. you want low quality, pocket change memories? call me here at KiFF Productions and you'll get more than you bargained for!
hey, for a few extra cents we'll even throw in an extended deadline so you have to wait a little longer than we'd negotiated in the beginning!

nah, i'll admit that they're low quality images, but i've only got a handy cam, so i need to make do with that. if i was going to rent a high end cam, i'd have to charge more. as it is, any profits from these projects is going towards a return for the monies spent on the equipment used and on the future purchase of a 3ccd high end video camera. so, i'm trying to get at least $2000 here (and that's close to entry level, but at least the images are of a pretty spinky res!).

i shall stop rambling now. i must shower, eat, check the render, cut some dvd covers to fit and then go to work. at some point i'm going to attempt to have a few hours sleep.

til next....
~Kits~ (thinking of the entrepeneurialness of her ideas)
kitsunegari: (Default)
( Oct. 24th, 2006 04:10 pm)
oh my goodness....

i've just received an email from Coles Myer Limited telling me i've reached the final one on one interview stage for their new store opening up in Queens Plaza in the CBD. this is kind of exciting, mainly because they actually want to interview me, but also because it means a DAY JOB if i get it.

so now i've got to go back and read the job description and what answers i gave to the questions in order to bluff my way to a customer service (checkout) job at Coles.

i tell you what though, How's this for some AWESOME wank? )

can i dribble shit, or can i dribble shit!
well, giving them what they want to hear is the point right?

now to start prepping for my interview on the 30th....

til next....
~Kits~ (oh crap, now i've got to get hold of 'business attire')

edit: [ profile] git_phuqd has struck again with a sweet letter to santa. for anyone with a twisted mind, it's not a sexual thing about wanting to get into santa's pants. it's about wanting to give santa a cuddle of appreciation.
i used to be able to write everyday. i used to be able to grab a notebook and a pen, find somewhere to sit and observe my surroundings and let the ink slowly scratch it's way across the pages. it would be so easy. words, thoughts and observations used to just slip right out. once upon a time i carried up of two notebooks, ALL OF THE TIME, in order to write various things. one would be for my short stories, the other would be for verse, poetry and song. i could write while watching television, or while taking notes at uni, or while rehearsing a play. not every single word was worth keeping, but i still have a record of them. nowadays, i'm lucky if i can find the energy to write my name on a scrap of paper, just to see if i remember how to use a pen. i've been carrying the same notebook with me for the better part of six months now, and i've barely used up more than ten pages. i'll sit at train stations, the pub, even at rehearsals with my pen at the ready and the book open to the next blank space, but virtually nothing will leak out. it's almost like i've lost the connection with my medium; lost my muse.

i think in the past i had a purpose for my scrawlings, and every once in a while, i regain that purpose and will spit out a few things that are worth keeping. but, for the most part, nothing i write is worth the chemical reaction that took place to make it. i also don't have the energy to sit and write everyday. i've tried. unsuccessfully. i've even tried using a different medium to perhaps bolster any creative urges i have, but even that ends up being a waste of time and electricity, and it's far too easy for me to delete what i create than it is with a pen and paper. a computer can erase any trace of the thought, and i don't like that idea all that much.

perhaps i'm tired. that would explain some of it. perhaps i've just run out of thougts and ideas for the time being. i do think, though, that my biggest problem is that i have no reason or purpose to write anymore. i have no muse. previously, the man i called 'my hero' was my muse, but he recently tumbled from my graces, and since then, i've not had any real care to make words work for me. and i'm saddened by this. words were the only way i could express myself. with words i could release the varied emotions i'd bottled up. it was a cleansing ritual. without the use of words, i'm more tense. i'm easily angered and my tolerance for everything is greatly reduced. i need to find the words again. i need to express again.

i need to find my muse. and that is going to be the toughest part.

til next....
~Kits~ (uh, okay)
after lots of lazing around and creative nothingness, Kitsunegari now has her own space.

it's still being worked on and will prolly going through a series of changes as my mind changes, but it's there.

i've even created a bio. wow. i feel sucked of creative juices right now.

i know of a lot of problems with it, but any others you spot....

til next....
~Kits~ (finally on the intarweb!)
i hate cubase more than words can know.

things were all fine and dandy when i set everything up and tested it to record.

now that i'm ready to actually lay down the guitar track, the stupid smegging program has decided to ignore the fact that it was working only five minutes ago!

i REALLY hate cubase.

edit: turns out i'm a really big tool, and what i thought was a major issue, turned out to be me simply plugging the the lead into the wrong hole. output NOT input. oh dear, it's going to be a looooong day.

til next....
~Kits~ (ode to Colin Mochrie)
damn... something

couldn't put my thoughts away don't know why i had them out
couldn't stop the cautious noise that was escaping slowly from my mouth
or muffle the whisper of the ocean current as it swept past my feet

couldn't organise the disenchanted as they lumbered t'ward the sea
couldn't prepare the barracade for the barrage at all coherently
or chatter to the woman ignorantly sitting in my seat

couldn't eat a a berry pie without removing the pips
couldn't lunch on fancy plates and things without cutting my lips
or holler at the paper boy for stealing my shoes

couldn't devise a method of diviniation without the right tools
couldn't falsify the record of all visitors to any other vestibules
or continue in this line of not quite cheerful alacrity

couldn't remember what the following thought should be
couldn't care all the much about the up and coming freebie
or consider the consequences of this attack.

til next....
~Kits~ (brain fart)

expect a cross post.
Lost Direction

I've seen many things in this forum
which are often lacking decorum
but the latest in ranting and raving
is causing my brain to cave in
i don't even know the post in question
so don't have a real interjection
but it's all just classic ass-hattery
(not meaning to provide you with flattery)
wot has transpired in these here pages
and has been going on and on for ages
now, perhaps we should look at my supper
ramen noodles and spices, quite dapper
an analogy with a tasty repose
to help bring this rhyme to a close
when shoving ones face with the food of the gods
don't ever blaspheme and call them all sods
just chew away calmly, thanking the lord
you didn't just sneeze them all over your keyboard.

cross posted in [ profile] note_to_asshat

til next....
~Kits~ (cleaning ramen from her keyboard)
why do i torture myself thus?
i look upon the words we said and sigh
could we ever say these words in person
could we ever be NOT silly?
puns puns puns
at least we were talking
more than can usually be said
less discomfort, but discomfort still
why the smeg to i torture myself thus?

til next....
~Kits~ (writing a doctorate in idiocy)
Yet another morning has come my way, a little earlier than usual: infants have their way of intervening your well practiced skill of extended sleep. So, up and out of bed I get, and once I've fed and changed the baby, before I do anything else I head to the kitchen and towards the pantry where the bitter gold is kept.

My morning coffee ritual is somewhat different to most people I know. Many simply grab a jar of their favourite instant brand, while others open up a vacuum bag of pre ground coffee beans. At Ward Lodge however, we're dedicated to our coffee. That is not to say we have a plantation in the backyard, though if you saw it (the backyard) you'd never tell either way. No, we have two separate rituals when it comes to preparing our wake up juice. For now, I'll just let you inside my personal ritual.

When I go to the pantry, I grab my jar of Bushells Turkish Coffee. A delicious pulverised coffee of Arabic nature. Next, I stretch down for the container of raw sugar. These items are then placed upon the kitchen bench, while I hunt out my coffee scoup and briki. For reference, a briki is pretty much a milk warmer with a fancy name. Once I've tracked down my two most important utensils (the cup comes later), I scoup up two scoups of coffee and dump it into the briki and follow that up with a single scoup of sugar. Water is poured over the top (approximately enough to fill my Vittoria Coffee thermal mug).

Over to the stove I toddle with my briki in hand. Light the flame (for those of us with gas. If it's an electric stove, then whatever is done to make it hot) and put the briki on the flame (or element). I have a tendency to wander away from the stove for a little too long when I'm doing this, and often have to clean up the spillage, but the idea is to watch for it to start boiling and then remove it from the heat. I boil it three times, as part of my personal ritual. I prefer the flavour of a triple boiled Turkish brew. Once boiled I pour it directly into my cup and allow it to settle and cool enough to begin drinking.

One thing to note about this coffee is the 'mud' or 'sediment' that settles at the bottom of the cup. I'm not a very big fan of this stuff, but I know a couple of people who like to stir it up and drink it. I say very loudly: ICK!

Well, that's my morning coffee ritual.

til next....
~Kits~ (developing ways to waste a morning that began far too early)
while conversing with [ profile] c4c on MSN about legal documents and their insane jargon of death and doom that no one understands, and how it would be lovely read one in flowery prose or rhyme, the following limerick was created.

there once was a case in Kentucky
a criminal who was quite unlucky
got caught in a trap
fell into our lap
and scored a free trip in our prison trucky

til next....


kitsunegari: (Default)


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