Gig Ears

I'm becoming concerned with the damage that is being done to my hearing. I understand that it is my entirely my fault that this is happening, but I really don't like to think that my ability to enjoy music and hold efficient conversations is going to decrease over time. I am certainly looking forward to seeing Cold By Winter perform at Eden's Bar tomorrow night; however, the ringing in my ears that it will inevitably cause is not something that I am looking forward to. Eric is going to call me a "pussy" for this, but I'm resolving never to go to a gig without ear plugs again -- except Sigur Rós, because some things should just remain unadultered. I don't socialise at gigs anyway -- I'm there for the art -- so wearing ear plugs shouldn't make much difference to my existence except that it will prevent my ears from being mutilated internally. Consider it a part of my perspective-changing -- how can I be happy if I can't get the most out of music anymore?

As well as wearing ear plugs, I have resolved not to read Craccum anymore. I will still be collecting the issues and adding them to my collection (funnily enough), but I intend not to turn a page or read a word of Craccum again. Yes, it contains some good articles, and is edited by one Mr Sproull, but most of the "content" is rubbish and deserving of being described inside of quotation marks that denote the fact that it isn't really content at all. I'm not sure if I want to be a journalist anymore, but if I was, I know I would be ashamed to have had early experience in Craccum, as some "current" media personalities have. I am not being negative. Craccum is something that makes me negative and cynical and as such, I am ridding myself of it for the sake of my mental clarity. Just to clarify, this means that if you have read this magazine, you do not refer me to articles or wave the thing in my face, please.

I caught the ferry home for the first time today, and am very glad I did so. Six dollars and fifty cents to get from the city to my doorstep in half an hour is well worth it if you ask me. Even waiting for the ferry was lovely, sitting on the steps down at the quay -- though I do imagine this case would have been significantly different if it weren't for the fact that this is such a mild and inoffensive evening, not just in terms of weather conditions but everything else as well. The vessel itself was like a larger-than-usual watertaxi, and travelled like a speedboat, complete with all the bucking. The splashes caused by the bow repeatedly gouging into the water's surface went right over the top of the boat and ran down the windows. It was great fun. The ferry was flash inside too, with all properly upholstered seats. I listened to Peter Gabriel on my head phones whilst the suit in front of me played Solitaire on his laptop, and kicked arse I might add. Overall, I was very impressed with the experience and I can confidently say that I'll be making frequent use of the service from now on.


I'll be catching the ferry on Friday mornings as well as Thursday evenings. To get to uni in time for my eight o' clock class on Friday on a train would require me to catch a service so early that my mum wouldn't be able to drop me off at the station for it (the station is a long way from my house, but right next to Mum's work, so if I time it right she can take me when she goes to work in the morning). That's why I caught the ferry home today as well -- my last class finished at six o' clock, which meant I couldn't have caught a train back in time for Mum to pick me up from the train station. Goodness me, I adore public transport. Forget the stress of driving, the guilt of destroying the environment, and the bastards who run the car park and increased the charge as soon as they had no competition from the other car park next to it. It all ceases to matter when one's on a bus, ferry, or train (moreso the latter two) with one's headphones in one's ears, or talking to one of those awesome public transport acquaintances that we all have.