About Me

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I'm Ryan, and I don't particularly understand the importance of a Blog... but I'll Blog away anyway. Positively, it gives me a wall to talk to. I like having formation and fluency in my day. 'About Me'?... just read the Blog.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

One minute to Sunday

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.
If that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring..."

Yesterday started off well. My alarm didn't go off and I slept through to about 9:30. It was raining and I met the One-eyed Magpie again... after all these months. He was sitting on the verandah, out of the rain, and had to skew his head is such a freakish way to see me... considering his lack of eyeball in the right side of his skull. Here he is, chilling with some little Hindu statuettes of my Father's.

I used to see him in and around the yard and he was never scared of me. I would walk up to him and take photos and he'd crow at me and hop around. One day, he followed me the entire way to school, landing on bins ahead of me and skewing his head, crowing and hopping. I called him Odin. I have such a Shakespearean fear that he is a bad omen... although it's been a very drawn out omen and I've ignored him quite a bit and I'm still alive. The way he speaks really freaks me out. It's like he's speaking in tongue. It's such a long, sequential melody of squarks and coughs. I felt I should have given him a pat on the back and asked how he was feeling... but I was scared he'd dramatically throw his head to the side, staring into my soul and future with his grey, glassy eye and steals my dreams... or something similar. With the eye and talons and black feathers he seems a foul mixture of Poe's 'the Raven' and 'the Tell-Tale Heart', embodied in one crowing, hopping freakshow that I call Odin.

Tom's party was good too. I had my feet vomited on twice. Eli managed to get it in my sock. Thank God both drunks were coordinated enough to both vomit on a different shoe each. As Nick said "I may be drunk, but I'm not inconsiderate". I poured water over my feet to clean them as much as I could. Poor Eli... he drank too much. Stupid Eli... he drank too much. Nick too, that boy needs to pace himself. Still, the gold medal goes to William who I thought was dead. I bet he's regretting it this morning. Dykes managed to go the entire night without a drink but still came across as really drunk. I sang "hush little baby" to Nick after he wouldn't stop yelling and vomiting everywhere, sometimes both at once. It's not hard to realise why I hate alcohol. I also have quite a few unusual photographs on my camera, taken by Nick before he collapsed.

The curtain is a bit out of place. Caitlin and I also got to race time, trying to get home before Sunday. Having only a few minutes until midnight and racing (slowly and responsibly) home we managed to do it. We got home with one minute to go. Take that Chronos, master of Time!

Last note; I have 4 followers! Soon I'll have a fellowship and we can go throw things in volcanos. I'm also very proud to have the evil Lord Voldemort amoung my followers.

"You have my bow."

"You have my axe!"

"You have my magic wand."

"You have my blog."


Friday, July 30, 2010


"I only see rainbows
Now that the bandages are gone
Through my window, there

From the skyscrapers
Down to the submarines

Birds and fairies
Atop the rolling hills of hell."

It rained. It rained again. I loved it. Despite how restricting rain can be, nothing relaxes me more. I hear rain and I just feel like half-sleeping - pillow in one ear, rain in the other... eyelids, softly shut and a drunk smile on my face. It's so nice... and drunk is the wrong word, but I'll leave it. Sometimes the wrong word deserves a run. I get a similar feeling from sitting in a car with a sunset being flickered by the trees curtaining the road. It reminds me of those old home videos, beyond my time by a fair while, where the image flickers and the sound is absent other than the humming and ticking of the projector... all in those nostalgic, sepia tones. I instantly become so sleeping seeing this, feeling this... which probably means I'll be dangerous on the road. But no! Stop thinking of the sun! This one is for the rain. Here's a picture from a while ago...

... happier times when the rain met me each morning at the doorstep and accompanied me across town, slept in the rim of my glasses and the soles of my shoes through out the day and met me once again to take me home in the afternoon. My Dad would say "Take an umbrella tomorrow! People must think your a nutter! Seriously, you look like you've drowned."
I'd agree. I did look like a soggy corpse. People must think I'm a nutter. I will take an umbrella tomorrow. The next morning, he'd sit reading his newspaper... I'd wait for him to lift the cup of tea to his mouth and I'd run for the door, jump the fence and be up the road laughing as he must have just sat there thinking "Why does my son hate umbrellas so much?"
I don't hate them. I can just live without them. He really doesn't understand but he never does. All I can hope for is more rain, come Monday.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

A free man

"I'm as trite and as gay as the Daisy in May,
A cliche' coming true,
I'm bromidic and bright,
As a moon-happy night,
Pourin' light on the dew."

So, Trials have passed and I have a free Friday, followed by the weekend. Tom's party too... and with a sigh of relief I feel slightly more human than I did this morning. My brain decided to be a jerk today and freak me out by giving me sudden feelings of vertigo. I think it had to do with my mind ticking over those horrible questions. Not horrible as in disgusting, just unwanted. I kept thinking over the whole "what is, or who is, my mind?" thing. There was a time where there was no me and there will be another time without me. Who am I personally, my inner me? How can I be there then cease to be there? At what moment did 'I' exsist? Upon birth or was my consciousness built as I grew and learned how to operate myself... ?

As a kid, the only two thoughts that would stop me in my tracks were that, coupled with "What is the meaning of life?" and the lustre of the Meaning of Life wore off eventually. It didn't seem that big a mystery and it's probably the only thing I don't whole-heartedly try to justify now-a-days. Life is just there, it's the play ground for the questions, not a question itself. Still, the essence of a person. Gah! It pisses me off. I always used to get the same thought when this wandered into my brain... my body is just a heap of meat, juice and hair and by itself - useless. My mind feels like a prisoner and I'm stuck in this body. Now, I don't hate this body but I hate the limits. I would hate the limits of any body. I feel like I'm in the prison, serving my time, but as the prison ages there's no way out and when it finally collapses I'll be buried in it. There's no way out, when this body goes out, my mind follows... and everything that was ever considered Ryan John Hodgkinson is dead. It's not my body rotting that I fear... most people go after beautiful, expensive coffins but I would like to be buried in a tin lunchbox after cremation. It's the mind! My body will be recycled, turned to muck, fed into the soil, my nutrients will bare flowers and every particle in my body will become some new form of life. But my mind is gone - forever. All the little electric impulses and reactions are not even dust, not even an echo. That's the part I hate. Being the pilot in an unreliable vessel.

Allow me to clarify, I don't like the idea of immortality any more than I do the idea of mortality. There should be nothing like either. I don't have a new system of existance to nominate but I'm not expected to. It's not the brain, but the mind... and the mind is a captain going down with his ship, from birth... not lifeboats or anchors... full steam into foggy future, alone.
Just a note; this picture is the closest thing to God I have ever seen. It's a street light.

I love how It seems to have limbs, an eye and completely laden in life... yet it was constructed by men I will never meet to keep the microwave ovens running. I saw in and felt I needed to photograph it... I've walked past It thousands of times and It's never caught my eye like that day. All of that is irrelevant. What is relevant is that I am now relaxed and happy and I won't be scaring myself with thoughts of death... or Godly street lights. I'm at peace already.


Monday, July 26, 2010


"And people make you nervous,
You'd think the world is ending,
And everybody's features have somehow started blending,
And everything is plastic,
And everyone's sarcastic,
And all your food is frozen,
It needs to be defrosted."

I am so out of whack when it comes to these exams. I'm losing so much sleep. I'm used to a neat 9 hours. Now, I'm still waking up at 5:45 as usual, but I'm going to bed at 10-11 and forcing myself through the cold morning to get to school. Although the walk does wake me out. Packs a punch. I saw the Smoking Lady today. I always smell her before I see her and the sky above her house always seems more grey than anywhere else. She never waves, but her cat sleeps on her foot and her hair looks asthough she slept well. Still, everyday; smoke in hand, frowning at the ground like it disappoints her and not even my most enthusiastic "Good Mornin'!" can move her. It's my walk each morning that makes my day. My mood is near completely influenced by the sky, the strangers, the trees and the music my iPod chooses. Today I got a chain of depressing songs, and then WHAM! 'None Of Them Knew They Were Robots' by Mr. Bungle started playing. Cheered me up. The colder and bleaker the day, the happier I am. It kind of puts things in perspective and makes me think "Thank God I'll be in a warm classroom"... most importantly though, cold & bleak make for great photographs. This is today.

I do so enjoy the cold and rain. Walking in the rain is such a great experience. I love getting to school, drenched, and having it cause a conversation with someone I rarely talk to, allowing me to say "Yes, I am wet. Quite. Goodbye." Not to mention it feels, sounds and looks cool. My sunglasses become rainglasses. Genius.

So these trials have really demotivated me. I feel like a... okay, honestly I have no metaphor, but I whole-heartedly blame the trials for my lack of substance. English-1 was suprisingly easy, Senior Science was tragically easy, Biology was pleasantly easy, Maths was typically easy... but English-2 was a whore. A dirty whore. I managed to achieve the 3 page per question quota, but my wrist hurts and I feel like I failed. I didn't write particularly well. Lack of quotes, excessive bull-shit. I still have Modern History, which is basically "remember 30 odd years of events, the people involved, the actions taken, the thoughts on these actions, the actions due to the thoughts, opinions on the thoughts and actions, reactions to the actions and reasons why different actions lead to thoughts and inversely thoughts to action at each time within different times in history due to what ever reason." It's terrible and I do bad. This stress may push me back to cooking. My Cooking used to be pushed into a photo album on Facebook but has long been ignored. Maybe I should reopen it. I love making food that tastes terrible but making it look delicious. I get people saying "OMG, I totes want to eat your cake, lol, it looks 2 good 4 it to be discussed within a social networking forum... lol, OMG, lol." I think to myself how it tasted of toothpaste. Its a challange beautifying such fragile things as pies. Pie sculpting is a true art... especially that Strawberry Pie I made with the image of Abraham Lincoln with a Samurai Sword on it... that took ages. Not to mention...

Yes, ain't that the truth! Hallelujah!...
So, that be it for today, me thinks.


"With your feet on the air and your head on the ground,
Try this trick and spin it, yeah."

This is a 'Blog', apparently.
Considering the fact that I am a Blog-virgin, I hardly know where to start. So, following in the wake of all great tales, allow me to begin with the start. The birth of man, a man - me.
7/9/1992, Lithgow General Hospital.
I was living in my mother's womb, doing baby things, although at about age seven I apparently claimed I was "swinging on the ribcage and looking out the belly-button". This was later proved false. Rather, I guess I was just... sitting there, doing baby things. There was a black-out while my mum was having me, but I was a very fast baby to come out. Good job me.
I asked my dad for these details a few minutes ago, and he started telling me "Ryan! Oh, you have no idea! You were an angel... you know the little Cherubs that da Vinci paint. You. That was you." I've seen the pictures, I was a passable baby but that man adores me. Check me out!

This is me as a tot, dressed as a spider for Halloween. The lounge I'm sitting on is dressed as a Ghost. Spooky. I think my Big Brother, Callan, went as Peter Pan so I'm kind of happy. As a baby, I was a badass. I built blocks with blinding speed, drank milk and cried a lot.
One day, I was tragically scolded... by a pumpkin. I saw the pumpkin on the table and thought "I want that pumpkin to be in my mouth". Having the strength of a 3 year old, and being restricted by my green overalls I spilt it on my head. I screamed for a while.
I grew, as would be the normal thing to do, never got in a fight at school, never carved initials into a tree because I was in love... although I did buy Valentine's Day chocolates once. All of these events, all of these thoughts, all of them... accumulate to this moment, where I sit on my bed, writing a Blog to a potentially non-existant audience. I was a baby once, and from that point I could have been anyone. I have to say, I'm kind of happy that I'm the spider dressing, pumpkin wounded young man that I am. I'm looking forward to making this Blog a casual thing.
My life now is basic. I sleep less than I want to, I talk more than is needed, I'm a vagabond as I walk if I need to go anywhere, I am obsessive to the point of self-loathing and I have friends that I consider to be pretty cool, even in the least cool of times. Dane, for one, who seems to embody such strength, compassion, sweet vocals, telepathy, multi-linguistics, hallowed biological creativity, to name a few.
Anyway, thats how I was born and a light breeze over my childhood. If you read this... uh, good - thank you.
Adios, amigos.