Ville⚰Noire

We live in the golden age of short attention span’s, and even shorter memories. What I write here today will be forgotten, by the six people who read it, the moment the page is changed. On the upside that means I can write anything - and a lot of it, without suffering any consequences. Here, let me show you. Yesterday, Johnny Depp came to my house, put orange juice in my cereal, gave me a ruby, and then we watched season two of Entourage. See? Not only is that completely untrue, it’s also totally absurd - I fucking hate Entourage.

Call me Ishmael. I won’t answer to it, because it’s not my name, but it’s much more agreeable than most of the things I’ve been called. “Call me ‘that-weird-guy-who-says-“fuck”-a-lot’ is probably more accurate, but “Ishmael” seems classier, and it’s a way more respectable beginning that the sentence I had originally written.

Well, here goes, my name is Adam Elliott, I’d like to think that I’m very affable, but you most likely think I’m a total asshole already, which doesn’t bother me really, because I probably am. I’m 16 years old, I was born in South Africa, then I lived in about 15 other countries, currently I reside in Sydney, Australia, I’m single. I do a lot of art and web design. I’m a pacifist, I don’t believe in religion, I think it just starts wars. I have a strange feeling that I’ve completely lost my mind. Well, that’s what my Neurologist told me.

I’d like to be a writer when I’ve finished school, seems like the sort of job that I’d like, get to chill back, and write some bullshit on paper, then send it to the editor a week after it was due, and bobs your uncle… just kidding, I don’t know your uncle, but he’s either the creepy uncle that wants to have sex with you, or he’s one of those gnarly uncles, who swears and shares his marajuana with you. I don’t have any uncles, they’re both cunts, and they pissed off early in my life. 

I’m the sort of guy who uses the ‘small tits’ category on porn websites. I listen to most music, anything other than that techno/hip hop bullshit. I’ve been listening to a lot of alternative music at the moment, you can see some music I take an interest in by clicking here. I eat way too much black licorice, probably too much, but oh fucking well. I like cats way more than dogs, you might say “Are you crazy? Adam, king of the idiots, dogs are way cooler!”, “Well, humble moron, do cats smell like your grandfathers asshole? Do they shit as soon as you bring them back from a walk? Are they as noisy as your parents bedroom on their wedding anniversary? No, cat’s fucking rule, and your argument is invalid, and yes I’m most probably crazier than you actually think”. I drink mainly coffee, I’m six foot four. My hair is light brown, I have green eyes, but you probably don’t give an actual fuck. I do a lot of photography, and would one day like to see it as more than just a hobby. I don’t like to wear shoes, my friends refer to me as “The Barefoot Bearfoot” or “cunt”, either is fine. I’m magnanimous. I’m weird, but I don’t mind that. I don’t hate many things, the one thing I hate, is how today’s society is so mainstream, everyone wears the same things, listens to the same music, follows the same trends. I don’t drink, or smoke, I’m not against it, I just think that people can have fun without been drunk or high. I’m also a fairly sagacious person. I see art in things that aren’t necessarily artistic. I like the colour red. I don’t eat fish, slightly because I think it’s a tad cruel to eat animals that are of less intelligence than us, but mostly because it tastes like what you would imagine a prostitutes bellybutton to taste like.

My mind works in strange ways, and a lot of people think it’s odd, which doesn’t bother me much. I’m a bit like a rock. You can stand on me, and I won’t complain, I get on with my life. I feel kinda sorry for toilets, because we’re all “Here have my shit” but then we’re all “It’s okay, I’m done” and the toilet sighs with relief, but then we’re all “Just kidding, heres some more, attached to some paper, have a shit day, get it, that was my attempted humour”. I told that story to my psychiatrist, and that’s the day she assured me that I had lost my mind, because it’s one thing to talk to yourself, but another thing to talk to the toilet you’re shitting in.

Alright, I’m hoping you laughed throughout all this bullshit above. I have a feeling though it was more of an involuntary nervous giggle, of “what the fuck-ness”. I’m going to do what you’ve been thinking to yourself this whole time and “Shut the fuck up”. Have a lovely day.