Awry, Amiss, Amok


I'm 21 and you're not.

I think this is going to be the international year of getting a job and spending all my high-flying cash on dating hot babes.


Birthday. 21st. Wednesday. Party. Peter's. Cuba St. See you there.

It's Official!

  • For years I have been telling Dan that his eyes are too close together. Today, this was officially confirmed by the Powers That Be.
  • Working over the road from Commonsense I have noticed a disproportionately large number of pregnant women about. Finally, proof that greenies are having more sex!
  • Who wants to come visit Auckland with me next week maybe? I need someone either with a car or a working thumb. I have neither.
  • Look what daddy said he would get me (!).
  • Over the past few months I have lost inches and gained pounds. What does that tell? It tells you that I could take you, that's what.
  • Last night I had a dream featuring Wade Landell and P-smoking homeless guys. At one point I was in an oldschool pioneer American church and there was an old negro guy on a chair with a noose around his neck and the minister was using him as some kind of symbolic scapegoat or somesuch and every time lightning struck the light illuminated everyone's faces as twisted demon masks. Word.


Despite the sickening, appalling, and/or dismal turnout, Manfest — Eleven Oh Five was a rousing success. The hut is looking fantastic, with just the front windows left to complete, and we repaired and extended the deck a bit too. Highlights include Al's inspirational hammering song Hey Granddad How Many Undies Did You Take Off Grandma's Bum? (1, 2, 3, 4!) and me convincingly caning my thumb. Allan took some sweet videos and stills but he's only on dialup right, so he doesn't want to upload them you see so we'll have to wait til he can physically transfer them to me and then I'll put them up for you all to ogle. Obviously, it's a logistical nightmare. Ma and Pa's new(ish) dog is flippin' sweet and it made me realise my grieving period has finally elapsed and I'm again ready for some puppy love, so to speak. Which is sweet because the prime contender for Where Will Richard D. Bartlett Live — Oh Six? features a sweet puppy.



All done.

Well 'done' is a bit of an over-statement. Seeing as that was The Hardest Thing. I. Have. Ever. Seen.

Ninety (90!) minutes to come up with hardware annnd software to control an automatic truck loader with six (6!) loading positions and alarms and sensors and counters and Gosh—! Not to mention the physical control wiring and plant wiring for two (2!) three-phase controlled & fused motors and a three-phase rectifier for a gnarly electromagnet!

And then of course for the other ninety minutes I am supposed to concentrate on IGBT's, PWM SMPS's and UPS's!? Did I mention this course was taught by one of the three least competent teachers I have ever met and hence I only had notes for about 20% of this?

We'll be ecstatic with a passing grade.


Busy. One more exam. Then what? Anyone want to give me a job in Auckland? I want to go. I can work in construction or coding or kitchens. Whatever. Time for an adventure.

Opeth, As I Lay Dying, Nightwish, Prong, Vader, King Diamond — anyone care to add to the list to populate Richard D. Bartlett's Summer of Hardcore?


For lil' brudda's birthday on Sunday I made him this stencil and Kathy printed it on a sweet German Army Surplus shirt. I am very pleased with the design; I think the crane will be my monogram.


Its been ages since I updated so let me fill you in on the week that was: wake up. walk to work. walk home. fall asleep on couch. repeat. and then we have exams next week, interspersed with more of the above.

oh, and Desperate Housewives.