1. "As for fury, I don't know. I mean, dude can keep the sweat pants, but with Schon he's on to something: some of those licks are pretty sweet."

2. When the street carnival is rained out, there's a lot so say for eating ice cream in the bath. And playing Tempest and Taniwha with the empty bowl.

3. Today I got a grasp of php-controlled databasing, gave myself a honey face mask, and built a compost bin for mamma (felt a bit like the prodigal son, donning dad's tool belt is like asking for my inheritance while he's still kicking). I am EveryBoy.

Six hours + one lecturer + one room + one hour break =learning is death.
Two hours + computer lab + infinite series of crashing, freezing and gaying-up computers = massey is death.
5 minutes + sharing my secret love of new stationery with Mogli = boys are cool.
Two hours + sitting at home rewriting all of my notes with my new stationery = I am a hardout.
Split second + babe + weird alleyway by the student services building + glad eyes = I am hot.

Tuesday, you do the maths.

Dear Everyone.

Having not left the house for a few days prior to my last post, I was feeling an unusually high amount of contempt for the internet. I think this is because it was a large part of my lazy, three day withdrawal from the world.
Also I think I only got about two hours sleep the night before and everything was dumb to me at that time.
But now I'm only trying to justify my dumbness.
Thought I was cool.
Am not.

I'm back, if you'll have me.

Love Peter.

Well, well, well; first day back at unavarsity. There is a nicely subversive sentiment permeating the second-year students: "This is the sucks. Why are we listening to these old doddery farts talking at us, costing us 4G a year (if we are lucky) when we could be out making money slash making music slash smoking a phat spliff."

In conclusion, uni sucks butt. All my friends from first year dropped out, my lecturers are weirdos, and there are no hot babes in my course.

However, George and Mogli and Mansfield are still charging it up at the M school and the D school so I might just hang around.

Dear Everyone.

I quit the internet.
I have decided that real life is more... real.
I will visit from time to time.
Have fun everybody.

Love Peter.

JOHN HARGRAVE: Then why do you call them FORTUNE cookies?

CHINESE RESTAURANT: Yeah, but that just a Chinese name. Like lobster sauce, there's no lobster.

I have been betrayed.

Richie made some kind of resolution to make this year about.....I cant remember what. Last year was about girls and this year was about.... or was it the other way around.


Anway, this year for me: My plans could possibly get shiat on within 1 week of being back at uni but.....the last 5 days have been spent with me and a good friend nick locked inside my house and occasionally my friend hamish who has a good computer with a recording program and lots of good recording gear. the long and short of it we have layed down 2 songs well (in preperation for a proper recording) and worked on a whole bunch more songs. our days have only revolved around music, writing and singing, and even when we went out on the town to my old favourite watering hole, after 2 hours all we wanted to do was come home and play music.


its all towards the final dream of becoming a rock star, playing music for a living. Will it happen? Logic would say no, but optimisim and dreamlike determination would say yes. who knows what will come of it, but this year is about music. (that and brandon boyd. I have my ticket)

I registered our new business today, and started drafting a proposal for our first client. At this stage, Bartlett Projects is going to be a fairly standard web design company, but our catchcry is, "Top quality product for no cost." The plan is to think of projects, put some good effort into making a demo of the project and submit a well-researched proposal to the client (who hasn't heard of us yet). Once we get accepted, we take a 10% cut of the sales. That way, the product is always ours, the income is a constant trickle instead of a lump sum, and the client has nothing to lose to give us a try. It would be nice to be able to go to business owners and say, "Here, we have a developed a complete online segment to your business, all you have to do is say 'yes' and the sales will start tomorrow."

Fast times.

PS. Jane Yee for PM

Well, Peter, this State-of-Emergency weather is obviously a punishment, divine retribution for your neglecting to attend Andrea's farewell. Either that, or a reward for those who made the effort to attend, and where forced into party mode for an extra day, unable to travel north or east or home, pleasantly confined to a body-warmed house with ice cream, chip butties and chocolate cake, all the Rocky's, and more spooning than is natural for one man to enjoy in one night.

I live in Eastbourne and right now I can't leave. It is supposed to be summer, instead we have towels against our south facing windows to soak up the leaks. I am wearing thermals galore. The reason that I can't leave Eastbourne is that the one road that leads here is closed. On one side is the harbour and on the otherside is hills. But I'm not worst off... I hear the Hutt River is about to burst. At least it probably will with more rain forecast for tonight. There is only one bit of motorway that is still running. I wonder what Richards situation is over in The Nui.
It's getting old and I am very over it.

To love ones country isin't very indie at all.

Things that get 11 out of 10
OtherPeople'sStories	for having beautiful and/or sad stories all the times
Americans	for being weird about guns
VUW theatre	for their outdoor production of Shakespeare's The Tempest

Sometimes, just sometimes, I suprise even myself with my brilliance. So you're hungry, your girlfriend's boss is hungry, or perhaps the uncle of a famous Japanese noodle racer is hungry, and you want to cook somthing that will impress? Well you've come to the right place: The Well-Dressed Chef's WeLikeStuff Cooking Hour Special Extravaganza:

Fry up some onion and garlic in lots of butter, turn down the heat and add a finely diced half-capsicum and a chopped bacon rasher to the mix. While this is softening, coat some skinless boneless unbiased chicken breasts in flour seasoned with salt, pepper, sugar, parmesan and paprika. Fry the crumbed breasts in and amongst the fryup you've already got going there. You only want them about half cooked, so maybe 5 minutes on a moderate heat (if you're a hardout like myself you will take them out at halftime and crumb them again for extra goodness). When they are crispy golden goodness on the outside, pull them out and replace with more capsicum, bacon, tomato and button mushrooms. While these new vegies are getting aquainted, direct your attention to the the chicken. Make a long, deep incision in each one, and stuff in as much bacon and mozarella as is humanly possible. Dump the contents of your frypan into a caserole, and put the chicken boobies on top and bake til the chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes (if it's pink, dilly dilly, don't eat it, dilly dilly).

Because nothing says 'class' like a multiplicity of meats.

Note: for your veggotyranous friends, replaces all meats with eggplant, and all sources of flavour with brown rice.

Friday. Sufficiently sunny. The One Lovin' was on.
Yus indeed, One Love took place for the fourth? Fifth? year in a row, and as always it was a bare-footed, scrumpy-drinking, pot-smoking dub fest.
No point in going on about it really. Those who were there know it was the phatness, and those who weren't should wish they were.

Happy new-Incubus day.

Blue turned to White very quickly my friends.

The following started out as a letter to one of my very favorite girls in The Whole World, and soon blossomed and branched and fruited and became a treatise on how to be a better person. I foolishly missed my chance to prune it, it took root and has flourished beyond its means, and hence must needs drop its delights here and there throughout the interweb.



drugs, um.
I really don't know what to say, other than "dont knock it till you've tried it." Its funny how suddenly I am chockablockfull of cliches, but its about the most succint way to put it, I think. It's like... we are almost talking about different things. Though of course it seems improbable that we cannot have a reasoned discussion about whether or not to try weed until you have tried weed.

You are probably beginning to sense the increasingly fluid nature of my definition of right and wrong, and truth. I think this can be attributed in equal parts to the increasingly dissatisfied and resentful nature of my relationship to my church/society/upbringing and to the folly of youth. [Incidentally, the fact that weed is "against the law" has very little real bearing on any pragmatic sense of truth and ethics, to me. It is a huge factor in why I hardly ever smoke, but not for any _reason_.] Anywho, what I meant was, because I was raised in such a black and white framework of right and wrong, and because experience has found this framework lacking, combined with the fact that I am an ignorant twerp, I am doing things and justifying things that I would have only recently found unthinkable. At the moment, this state of affairs is a little worrying, yet tolerable.

That is, I don't think the temporary expansion of my set of ethics is going to be the downfall of anyone. This is based on the evidence of the millions of my peers who don't appear to be irrevocably ruining themselves with their own experimentation.

Which is nothing to do with what I was originally thinking about. Guilt. I have recently been feeling guilty about very little, having spent so long feeling guilty about things I am not sure are worth my worry. I have not felt guilty for breaking the law with weed (that's what i mean about having a pragmatic bearing on my ethics), and I have not felt guilty about breaking my parents' implied wishes, because I have been purely honest with them throughout. At this point in time the main thing that I can think of that I am guilty about is making girls cry. And again, I have an excuse for that too, but I won't for a second try to dodge responsibility for being a repeat-offending bastard. I declared on my birthday that this year would be about girls; this theme seems to be coming together of itself. It looks as if I will be involved in some sort of mentoring program, where I can impart some wisdom to a slightly younger friend, and attempt to identify issues before he has to figure them out the hard way, for himself.

That's my excuse, by the way, for being an ass. Ask the right questions of my peers and a huge proportion will agree, we have been extremely poorly taught. Doesn't it feel like we are starting from scratch? Can you imagine having kids and for them to be at the exact same point you were 18 years ago? That seems to be a great waste of a life, but it seems to be the norm. Ignoring technological progress, can you identify one legacy of the 200 generations that have been and gone before you? This is perhaps the Curse of mankind, at birth you are bounced down every single step your parents took. That sounds very bleak, but it is a broad picture of the past, not a specific picture of what will happen in your or my future.

I intend to learn all I can about being a boy, and teach that to my young friends as I become a man. That's the first step; the whole case includes being a husband, father, lover, brother, and grandfather. Ineffectual grandparents are such a tragedy; what is the point of 70 years of living, without passing on your knowledge to your kids, and ensuring they pass it on as well!

The major flaw of my grand plan is that everyone before me has thought the same thing. This suggests that there is a common fault, and there is, I think: communication. That is my fault, at least, I can't think of many ways in which I have presented myself as a teachable individual, keen to learn from the 3 generations of Richard D. Bartlett's that I have access to (across family, church, and society).

But that is a nice word you can hold on to, and hold me accountable to: communication. We all have bright ideas (the number and brightness being directly related to your age), the issue is to communicate them at least to the first generation below mine.