Todays Press Conference with David Tieck

Mouth

I enjoyed doing that one I just did, as in the previous post to this one. The speed blog that is. I want to go again, this time I feel like speed poet writing, speed writing a poem that is.

I'm gonna put 1:42 on the clock. No 'there is still time' on this one. I get the word from a book, I don't think, just type, and when it's done I write that word as a title and post away. We're having fun here arn't we? All of us. Yay.


Mouth like a gaping wound
sure and well and fratted
I dont walk like a silent bassoon
I can help the child if he asks
DOn't forget
But don't go on with it
Oh fuck I forgot to start the clock
I'll start it now
Um, make it 42 seconds to finish
starting now
before the grape ring
before the helper silented
our giving tree exonorated
out mission to be jovial
no owning

Falls

Speed blog - let's try 2:37 this time.

My word is - Falls

I find when ever I fall over something that was left on the floor with the express or intense or um, whats the fucking word i am looking for, mother fucker, ahhhhhh, um you know, the fucker left the fucking thing there just in HOPE someone would fall over it, there is a word I'm looking for. Anyway fuck it. Every time I fall over something left on the floor for that situation, I just stand up, smile and get on with my day with a chuckle. Because I'm a nice guy, and I aint letting that fucker win.

Still have some time.

Oh, um can someone shoot the prick for me.

Yeah, more time. Wait. Done!

Speed blog

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I don’t have enough time these days to blog as often as I would like, which is why I have come up with this idea – speed blogs. I am going to give myself a time period of mere minutes to write a blog, I don’t get a second longer, and I don’t get to go back and edit. The content will come from grabbing a random word from a book and going. Here is my first go. It’s 2:53 am, I need to go to sleep, I might make this first experiment a mere 2 minutes. Not might, am. Stop delaying the start David, trust yourself, you’ll come up with something. Shut up Dave, just do it

Word - Care.

‘I do care about the underground, I swear to god I do, the underground matters to me’

‘it doesn’t sound like it, Ive seen you above ground three times this week, care my ass’

‘I do care, I promise, I only went above ground for food, and a few breaths of fresh air’!

‘Ah huh, fresh air? No true undergrounded would ever want fresh air.

Are yeah, wombats sure do know how to argue. Surprisingly good English skills too.

Boom – 2 mins. Well 2 minutes and ten seconds. Plus all this time I am wasting now. Time I could have potentially better used trying to spot wombats aboveground. I have always a suspected they're secretly planning an assault on the mainstream.

Time for another classic Dave Q & A session

It’s been a very hectic few weeks for me, as a hugely little bit famous artist with numerous creative outlets coming to brilliant flaming success, my time is scarce and valuable. And yet, my fans matter to me, they matter immensely, they matter even more than the some say mythological lavender colored skittles, and those make up 94% of my daily diet. So that’s why when it’s time for another classic Dave Q & A session, I don’t just not skip it, I embrace it, and I enjoy it, and I follow through without a moments delay.

Over the past few months I've received a steady stream of all your lovely questions via mail, and thank-you very much for these. I must admit, some of you have some excellently placed stamps, top left? Ha ha, you silly scalawags. Still fun use of stamps aside, this is not what will matter when it comes down to which questions I'll choose to include in this edition of my always popular Q & A.

For those I'll just wade through the dozens of questions which now fill my wading pool, which ironically is located in my den, not my wading room, as for some reason I set up my wading room next to my alligator breeding chamber, and that shit turned out to be far too noisy to wade next to, and I'll just pick out the questions which resonate with me most. These are likely, knowing me, to be the questions which clearly demonstrate an aura of uniqueness and maybe even creativity, and I’ll go with those. Here we go.

Question one, submitted by Janelle Margos - Where were you born?

Great question Janelle, creative and also unique, I appreciate it, and yet frankly I have an even better answer coming, although no creativity needed here, just truth - I was born in wood fire pizza oven, after the contents of the test tube I was developed in was mistaken for a tube of anchovies, at the time not just offering me a fiery introduction to life, but also finally giving the world the excuse it desired to ridicule anyone who orders anchovies on pizza.

Question two: submitted by Cyndi Pandow - Where did you grow up?

Another awesome question, thanks Cyndi, I love your use of both creativity and even uniqueness, and yet, once again, I have to answer truthfully, and truthfully this is a superior answer coming your way.

Answer - I grew up in a wheat silo among a tribe of incredibly advanced and evolved weevils who had extraordinarily advanced computer chip technology which was implanted into my left nipple and released a series of radioactive zeros and ones making it seem like the silo was in fact a tree house on the tropical island of Mineneous in the little known Swiss section of French Polynesia, and that I was in fact enjoying a relatively tame and normal childhood - that is, of course, until the agricultural society discovered the wheat was infested with weevils and burned the silo down.

Question three, submitted by Jonty Graham - Where do you currently live?

Wow, yet another brilliant question, well done Jonty, I really admire your thinking during question development, it feels like you've really injected in some creativity into the mix, and yet there is also a very strong sweetly wafting odor of uniqueness, and for that I admire and applaud you, while also being forced, and humbled, to admit the forthcoming answer is not just effortlessly better, but also monumentally fascinating.

Answer: I currently live in Sydney Australia, for the time being, I guess.

Well that's the Q & A, thanks for all the wonderful questions, and you’re welcome for the time I took out of my hectic massive tiny a little bit a celebrity lifestyle to answer them, now I've got to go, I've got like eight pregnant alligators here, and they aren’t gonna get fed while I'm wading in mail.

How to spell

Enjoyment Truths - Evolution

I saw a play

As a professional awesome guy, one of the things I spend much of my energy on is trying to make sure I never find myself without some form of entertainment in front of me coming out of TVs, speakers, musical instruments, and even real life faces sometimes, in a desperate hope that I'll never be forced to face pure silence and have to listen to the voices in my head. 

If you had the voices in my head you would do the same. Common statements from these voices tend to be either violently dark, enticing self destructive behavior or down right baffling, things such as: 

- Why won't these lights turn green, I know push that kid in front of a truck, that'll keep me entertained a few more seconds.

- Apparently teenagers in Europe sometimes soak a tampon in vodka and stick it up their butt to get drunk cheap, I wonder if I started doing that if it'd help me consume less calories and therefore lose weight, maybe I'll try it tonight, but first I want to eat two large pizzas by myself. And

- If badgers are so hard to convince to crowd into conglomerates the size of meteorites for us to magically rope-pull into ostentatious missionary operations then what hope do Chinese miners have of imagining financial grants big enough to bid for a helper robot consolations? 

Obviously these are all thoughts I don't want to have, at least not more than three or four times an hour, and so I wish to avoid them. Not that I'd ever actually act on any of these thoughts, I'm not a weirdo, well I don't mind making a badger pile from time to time, but then who doesn't? 

This past Saturday night, in order to entertain away the voices, and just be entertained in general, I decided to do something I don't do anywhere near often enough, and that's go to see a play. 

Here's a common conversation I'll have with myself: 

'Man, when I go to plays I tend to enjoy myself, plus I want to act in more plays, maybe I should, you know, go see more plays' I'll say. 

'Dude, you totally should see more plays, when you do you tend to enjoy it, and you want to act in more plays, you should totally go see more plays' I'll reply. 

'Man, you're right, I tend to enjoy plays when I go see them and I want to act in more plays, it would be good to go see more plays' I'll add. 

'Dude, you enjoy plays, you want to act in plays, you should see more plays!' I'll retort. 

'Man, like plays, act in plays, see plays' I'll continue

'Dude, like, act, see - plays' I'll snap back. 

'Man, l, a, c, p' I'll demand

'Dude, P' I'll conclude. 

And then I'll spend so much time congratulating myself on my brilliant ability to both invent and decipher a unique and imaginative short hand language system with myself, so much so that before I know it I've filled like hours just talking to myself in my new brilliant language, that by the time I'm done I don't even remember what that original 'P' stood for way back when, I mean, 'people'? 'personnel'?? 'periodical'??? It could be ANYTHING! Even a non-P word like 'File' or 'Friendship' or 'Philanthropist'!

Then I'll be like 'I DONT FUCKING REMEMBER', what did that fucking P stand for, for phucks sake?' Then I'll copy out the entire P section of the dictionary hoping to jog my memory, even the words in the P section which don't start with P. Before getting fucking frustrated and taking it out by stacking badgers, only to then get frustrated that I can never make a conglomerate the size of a meteorite and then eat two large pizzas and have a shame nap. 

Suddenly, against all odds, I then discover for some reason I haven't seen more plays, and I'll say to myself 'I should see more plays', and the cycle continues. The really frustrating thing is just how hard it is to source badgers every day.

Well no more. Two nights ago I thought to myself 'when I see plays I tend to enjoy them, I want to act in more plays maybe I should see more plays' and instead of going on a journey towards a shame nap, I fucked around on the internet for a couple of hours, and somehow ended up buying tickets to a play the following night. 

It was at the New Theatre in Newtown Sydney, a place I've been meaning to go for ages, as part of the Sydney Fringe, an event I've been promising to attend for ages, and it was called 'Amanda' which is like a name and shit, I think.

And you know what? I enjoyed it, immensely in fact. I want to act in more plays. I think I'm gonna go check out more plays! No shame nap for me tonight! Hell Yeah! 

Please note: In the making of this blog no kids were actually pushed in front of trucks. 

How to make 2.5 billion dollars – easily

Apparently some game called minecraft just sold to Microsoft for 2.5 billion dollars. I have no idea what this game is, and I don’t care to know. What I care about is that this lovely exchange of finance and gaming has shown me that making 2.5 billion dollars really easy.

Here is how it’s done.

A.     Invent a game of some sort.

C.     Sell this game to Microsoft for 2.5 billion.

Now all you have to do is figure out what B is, that can’t be too hard it’s like, it’s like the second letter in the alphabet for Christ’s sake, and you will have made 2.5 billion dollars - easily. 

PS. By reading this you owe me 10% for expert guidance.

What it’s made for

I bought a Coke Zero today. Yeah that’s right. I bought a Coke Zero; they’re like Coke, but with zero sugar, and like Diet Coke but yet different. So I bought one. It’s by no means the first time for me, and far from the last. I'm not proud of it, nope, I have no interest in feeling pride because of it, there's nothing to boast about here, and nor is there anything to applaud myself for.

And before you ask, yes, I do applaud myself for things, regularly to be honest, for all manner of reasons. Like say I've been to the movies and enjoyed the movie I chose, well Hell Yeah I'll applaud myself, why? Well for my excellent ability to work my way through the various methods of deciphering whether a movie will be something I would enjoy, by reading reviews, judging reviewers, watching previews, questioning whether the preview editor is good at his or her job, asking friends who have seen the movie what they think, going through my records of previous opinions they have given me of movies they have seen, balanced against my spreadsheets of how I ended up enjoying the movie in contrast and comparison to their opinions, looking at the Venn Diagrams I've made rating each friend and each film genre and where we typically overlap and disagree, looking at casting, judging casting, going to cinemas and watching people coming out of theaters, then drawing detailed sketches of facial expressions, before conducting extensive psychological studies into how a wide range of people from all walks of life, race, creed, sexuality, corners of the globe, age and height interpret the moods of the faces I've drawn, and then asking for detailed stories of their personal experiences with movies, checking that information against my spreadsheets, checking the length of the film, and judging the length. So yeah sure, if I've put the right amount of work in and then estimated that I’m likely to give a movie say a seven out of ten, and then I see that movie and at the conclusion of the movie I find myself thinking 'I'd probably give that like a like a six, nah, make it a seven' - then Hell Yeah I'll applaud myself. That’s applause I deserve.

Or like if I go pee and get most of it in the bowl I'll applaud myself.

You have to recognize your hard earned amazing achievements people, or how else will you be motivated to reproduce them?

But no I wasn't applauding this achievement, the purchase of the Coke Zero that is. Not this time. Then again nor was I feeling shame. I have no interest in discrediting myself because of it; I'm doubt free, feeling no trepidation and have absolutely no interest in beating myself up over it.

And before you ask, yes, I do beat myself up over things, regularly, for all sorts of reasons. Like say I've been to the train station, and even though I made it to the station I ended up missing my train, then Hell Yeah I’ll beat myself up, why? Well because like because I probably missed that train even though I'd taken every measure not to miss it, like reading the schedule, and memorizing the arrival time, and like setting my watch only after looking up the official, official time as released by the Greenwich mean time officiating committee, and done some detailed investigation into whether the authority is well respected, trusted and admired, and called them up and asked how moral is at the office, whether anyone had been acting unusual or suspicious, if anyone had been dating someone in the office and broken up with them recently, were any employees 'celebrating' unhappy birthday milestones, or any other type of situation that could motivate someone in the office to ease their discomfort by messing with the official, official time as released to Sweden, to relay to the Swiss, and pass on via passenger pigeon to the Internet so we all know it, and by going to the station for a few days in a row before my train trip and keeping an eye on arrivals and departures and checking them against the schedule so as to have a truthful representation of current standards into keeping with the schedule, and like asked a few thousand passengers, give or take, whether the trains feel smooth, and do the tracks seem strong and are there any kids mulling around looking like they may be planning some sort of dastardly rambunctiousness like pulling the emergency break even though, at the present, at least as far as they know, there is no emergency, which is not the correct time to pull the emergency lever. If I still ended up missing my train, because say I forgot how long the walk to the station was, Hell Yeah I'll give myself a beating. That’s a beating that’s justified.

Or like if I see a creature on the ground and say 'hey look a grasshopper' and someone else says 'actually I think that's a locust'. Then yeah, sure, I'll beat myself up hard.

You have to punish yourself for your epic failures that negatively impact your existence people, or else how are you going to learn to avoid them?

So no I wasn't beating myself up over this purchase, of the Coke Zero that is. I was feeling neither pride nor shame, neither pleasure nor pain, neither satisfaction nor um, grain, no, fame, no, blame!! (Nailed it) - you know why? Because that’s not what Coke Zeros are for, I don’t believe. I mean I haven’t done much research into it yet. Well, I have taken surveillance footage of people leaving convenience stores, super markets, general stores, and at entertainment events like sports, amusement parks and country fairs, and I have compiled some detailed spread sheets, pie charts, and quantum physics, but I still haven’t made a single diagram of what seems like would be a common use of a Coke Zero, which I would then be able to use when interviewing people about what they plan on doing with their Coke Zeros upon purchasing them, while then questioning them on their use as compared the diagrams I had prepared, and then making spreadsheets of the results, so that I could compare them, but still, based on the information I have gathered up till now, no, I don’t believe Coke Zeros are manufactured with a hope of inspiring there would be purchasers to either applaud themselves, nor beat themselves up over.

I believe, in fact, that they are intended to be poured inside a hole in the consumers face. I’m guessing either the mouth or popping out the left eyeball and going in there. And you know what, in making my final decision with today’s purchased Coke Zero, I might avoid normal information gathering, and just wing it.

Dave at the Mug n Kettle

This is one of my more interesting recent comedy sets - ladies and gentlemen - hands

The Assignment

The assignment came in swift, hard and flawlessly explained. The assigner knew her stuff that is for damn sure. She knew what she wanted from me, and how she wanted it to be achieved. She was clear, unwavering and well spoken. She knew who I was, what I was capable of, and how she wanted me to pull it off. Her instructions were crisp, staunch, and poetically brushed into a beautiful picture of intricate unambiguousness.  

I took the assignment in my stride. I was awake, receptive and understanding. I knew what she required from me that’s for damn sure. I knew what was feathering her tickly spots and how she wanted me to blow them the hell away. I understood her needs, where they were born, and the satisfaction that was awaiting being sparkled and glistened. I received her instructions in my ears, swept them up into my brain and needed no imagination to spin them into an honest and scrupulously vibrant game plan on how it needed to be accomplished triumphantly.

So yeah, you could say it, I went into the break room and I poured the fucking shit out of that glass of water for her.

I just wish I didn’t pick the glass with the chip in it.

The ambulance officer knew what his assignment was that’s for damn sure - stop her lip pouring out blood, for the love of god, stop it, this is gross, I think I’m gonna puke.

Cotton Ball

I was holding a cotton ball that day. Yes me! It was just that kind of day I guess. I mean like I'm not bragging, I'm not, but yeah, it happened to me, I was holding a cotton ball! Hell Yeah! 

Well ok, so obviously I'm bragging at least a little, but that's the point, I didn't plan to hold a cotton ball, I'd never even dreamed about it frankly, and yeah, I'll admit it, I didn't even earn it, it was pure dumb luck. And it happened to me, wow. 

I had planned on spending the day at the gym, one of my classic 32 hour sessions, I'm sure you know  about them, they're my claim to fame- I'm sure you've heard about me on the news, or read about me in the papers - 'this man is an anonomly, he can spend 32 hours in the gym in one day, without burning a single calorie, or talking to another person, or smiling - quite a skill' the reporters say. 

My claim to fame, ha ha, that WAS my claim to fame, but now I've got this whole cotton ball deal too! Wow, people will be talking about this for years! Months even! About ME! Hell Yeah! Cause I held a cotton ball, yippee!!

Wait, wait did I say 'cotton ball'? Oh fuck, I meant 'baby kitten that I rescued from a burning sky scrapper, that I had to reach by running up 127 flights of stairs, before fashioning a parashoot out of my t-shirt, three straws from the break room, and a six year old congealed bottle of white out, before risking my life by letting the kitten wear the only harness as I held on to the t-shirts sport team logo, and we floated to the earth, where I took the brunt of the fall, letting the kitten survive unharmed while it tried to lick my two severely broken legs better' - whoops, I said 'cotton ball', that's a Freudian slip if there ever was one.  

And did I say 'held'? Dang, sorry, I meant 'lit a fire in a sky scrapper and then called the media'. Slip of the tongue I guess. 

I mean I'm sick of my claim to fame being that gym thing, they always focus on the fact I don't do anything there and ignore the fact I somehow defy science and fit 32 hours into one day!  

The lesson is, you can't trust everything you hear on the news, try blogs, that's where the truth is :)