The Last Post

Cue the trumpet song that they used to play at school on Anzac Day. And just like when they played the Last Post at school, right now you're probably bored, don't really get what's happening but have an overwhelming sense that something significant is going on.

This is the last post of the Alvin blog.

Boy, it's been some ride huh. I mean, like, 2 and something years of a few posts about pretty much nothing. How will we live without it?

Today a friend came on FB chat and abused me for not updating Alvin's third person diary in three months. So I decided it was time, time to put an end to the misery that is the life of Alvin. Sure, he'll live on, but with his real name. And Alvin will be a thing of the past. Something that we'll look back on with a shrug of the shoulders and no feelings of sentimentality.

Alvin came on FB chat half an hour ago and we did an interview about the life of this thing, like it ever mattered. No editing, just lame FB chat. Enjoy, for the last time. - MJ

ME: Hey

wanna do an interview for Alvin

Alvin: yello

what you mean?

we'll talk on here

and then I'll post it on Alvin

umm

ok

what kind of questions

What are you doing now?

this wont be funny...

i'm sitting in a motel watching inbetweeners and 'chatting' on facebook

motel?

Where are you?

wangaratta

Can you remember when I started the Alvin blog>

hmm

i could probably check the first post and see it's relevance

but you don't remember when I told you I was going to do it?

no not really

Neither do I

You never really seemed to care

like it was no big deal

but it's pretty weird really

people write blogs about me all the time really

i'm used to it

You made me change the name though

this interview is over!

why?

you can't bring up the name change

that's like when people call me alvin, it ruins the point of the name change

I remember we used to go to parties and people would go, "Alvinnnnnnn!!!"

That was the best

exactly

if it becomes a nickname

it's pointless to change it

why'd you want the name to change anyway

for any incrimination from stories both factual and fictional

I think I might make this the last ever Alvin story by the way

fictional?

It was all true

not all of it

what wasn't true

i've never watched offspring, done drugs, played call of duty or slept in mens beds

ha

I never even told the best sleeping in a man's bed story

i don't know what you're talking about

hmm

I got distracted

tlaking to my housemate

and forgot what I was gonna ask

hey, do you think I should reveal who you are

considering this is the last post and all

"And revealing.... BRANDON DAVID"

everyone knows Brand David dreams of a life where he could have one story to tell

there is no way it could be him, not one humerous anecdote or adventure

Are there any stories that are your favourites?

from life or alvin?

one and the same really

i think the drawing of 'there was no girl' sums me up pretty well

it really does

are there any that make you cringe?

nah not really

i can't remember them all

My personal favourite was when you got bullied by your friends

and planned a revenge

but the problem was

you never did the revenge

i did shave my beard and keep the hair

i still have it...

i'm just waiting for the right type of revenge

how long have you had the hair?

has to be 2 years i reckon

it was a warm day when i got ditched

and it doesn't feel like last year

yeah

the blog has been running a long time

but I rarely posted stuff

sometimes I'd get inspired

and think, "Yeah, I'm gonna make Alvin famous... for his mediocrity." BUt then I'd always just forget about it

obviously i'm not busy enough

you don't do much

i do a bit

i just play the cards a bit closer to the vest these days

you could no longer trust me?

just saving them for the auto biography

well the idea was that I'd do this for the rest of your life

and document the whole thing

you'd never need to write an autobiography

it's your fault for moving interstate

are you disappointed it's ending

you could be missing the biggest money making opportunity of your life

why

cos i'm awesome, and the world must know my story.

The Alvin blog was a place for you to be real

none of this fake showyness

it's over now Alvin

bear your soul Alvin

no need to front with the jokes and the fake arrogance

what's behind the laughter Alvin

what exactly are you asking

Who is Alvin?

You know in deep interviews with celebrities they ask that

"Tell me, who is the real Tom Cruise?"

that's what I'm doing

yeh but if i was a celebrity, i'd be like, what a shit question

lazy journalism Negus

go back to looking smug and reporting the news in a 'i can't believe you n00bs don't already know what i'm saying' style

god i hate him

That's one thing I regret

what?

not showing your amazing ability to criticise people and things in an intelligent way

without ever doing anything yourself ever

other than you know, pwning noobs on Call of Duty

that's is what i do, the criticism itself

meh

I'm ending this interview for the same reason I'm ending the blog

I can't be bothered anymore and you're boring me

so... any last words?

you like Negus don't you?

I do

but I don't really know why

I just do

i used to

but i watched 6pm a couple of times

yeah I ain't seen it yet

he's seriously like

ah

you know

what i said before

k

you also hate Leunig

yup, i don't see why anyone would like him

I hate leunig cos his cartoons are meant to be intelligent and deep

but they are doodles with irrelevant words

anyway, last words?

These will be the last ever words on the Alvin blog, pick them wisely

that's too much pressure

Random Alvin Fact #2

Alvin's favourite fast food is Nando's.

We Are Nowhere and It's Now

It was Sunday night last night. All over Australia people in their early 20s were doing the same thing.

"What's that?" You ask.

"Homework?" You ask.

"Drugs and sex, and and and and life and creativity and all the brilliant things born to youth?" You ask.

No. Facebook-chat-in-front-of-bad-Sunday-night-television is what captivated Australia's future last night. Alvin was no exception.

"Four facebook chat windows open." Said Alvin over Facebook chat.

"And every one of them is talking about Offspring."

Offsping is an Australian show where an average white nurse, unlucky in love, looks for love. We watch it in droves and embrace the mediocrity put before us. A generation of this-will-do.

Well, Alvin had had enough.

"I'm going to go play Call of Duty and regain my penis." He said.

God bless Alvin, he may save our generation yet.

The Room Part 3

A beautiful girl was lying on my bed, naked. So awesome. As we lay there, I knew that she was, like, the one.

Eyes locked, her lip quivered, hesitant to break the silence but about to all the same. What was it she was going to say? "Like, I love you." "Like, we're perfect." "Like, you complete me." Definitely one of those. My life was about to change, like, forever.

A trashed Alvin crashed through the door. "Hellooooooo," he said as he fell to the floor.

She shrieked and scrambled to get under the sheets. The moment was gone, forever.

I told Alvin the story as I made dinner the next night. Still half asleep on my couch he replied, "What are you talking about? There was no girl."

Not anymore Alvin, not anymore.

The Room Part 2

Before Alvin moved into my old room, he lived out in the suburbs. In fact, because he is lazy and poor, he spends most of his time in the suburbs still - taking advantage of his parents' food and Playstation. But back when his room was my room, he used to crash at mine whenever we hit the city. Which was a lot.

He got pretty comfortable there. Sometimes he'd get home before me, let himself in through the unlocked window, and tuck himself into my bed. I'd come home at 5am to find him all tuckered out in my sheets with Hungry Jacks wrappers sprawled over his disgusting body.

I would have a decision to make then. A decision a tired, drunk, drug addled and sexually frustrated mind did not want to make. Jump in next to him or go and sleep on the couch.

I didn't always sleep on the couch. Those were some awkward mornings. Alvin never seemed to mind.

Changing Rooms

Remember that show - Changing Rooms - where with the help of a homosexual designer (who'd later go on to host Ready Steady Cook) two friends would redesign each other's rooms? Ya remember that?

Well when I moved to Sydney, I left a room in a crappy sharehouse vacant. Alvin took that room. So Alvin lives in my room. But now that he lives in it, it is no longer mine, no, it's his. Alvin lives in his room... which used to be mine. Umm, anyway...

I recently visited Melbourne for the first time since I moved to Sydney. I went to my old house and visited the room. Still taped to the window (albeit behind the curtain) were the little pictures of my ex girlfriend and me that I'd put up when we were together and never got round to pulling down after it all went to shit. The bed was the same. The curtain I'd made out of an old bedsheet was the same. The little pile of incense ash on the shelf was the same. Even the couch I moved in there for my going away party was still sitting in the corner.

The room hadn't changed at all. His room is not his room, it's my room. But if he's living in it, does that make him... me?

I looked into it further... his friends - all my old friends. His clothes - similar to my own. The places he hangs - my old hangs.

Alvin is living my old life. Even though I have left Melbourne, I still exist in that city. And My name? My name is Alvin.

This leaves one question: If Alvin is me, what has become of Alvin?

Stay tuned...

2 cities - a tale of no tales

I moved to Sydney. Alvin, unfortunately, still remains in Melbourne. This makes it hard for me to update his diary, but I will try anyway.

I just spoke to Alvin over Facebook chat. I had a problem.

"I need to go to the toilet, number twos, but I can't be bothered getting off the couch," I said.

"Is there a bag around?" he replied.

There wasn't, but still, his problem solving genius should be acknowledged. You may be surprised at his genius in this field but I wasn't. I'd seen it before.

Every year we go to the same music festival in the country. He packs a plastic bottle that is ample for urinating in while lying in his sleeping bag. He knows that he will drink enough that he won't be able to make it through a sleep without having to go to the toilet. He also knows that he will be too drunk and tired to get out of his sleeping bag, get into some shoes, unzip his tent, step out into the cold country night air, and find a discreet spot to urinate.

This happens to all of us at these festivals, yet we prepare not. Perhaps this is because we prefer not to sleep next to our own urine or perhaps it's because our meagre intellects are nothing like that of Alvin.

Alvin's foresight is that of a God. A lazy, disgusting God.

Back

It's Easter Sunday, April 4 2010. It's been a full something something days since the last post about Alvin. This isn't because I've been lazy. Oh no. It's because he hasn't done anything in those days. Seriously nothing.

That's a lie.

He's done some things. Eating cereal, catching trains, going to the toilet, he's done those things but really not much else.

Well the other day he told me, over a bowl of cereal, that he was gonna start doing things again. So ... stay tuned cause Alvin is back ... can you feel the excitement? No? Yeh me neither.

Nothing

I haven't spoken to Alvin today. I wonder what he's doing. It could be anything. 

In the film Adaptation, Robert Mckee explains at his Story seminar:

"People are murdered everyday. There's genocide. War. Corruption. Every fucking day somewhere in the world somebody sacrifices his life to save somebody else. Every fucking day someone somewhere takes a conscious decision to destroy someone else. People find love. People lose it. For Christ sake, a child watches a mother beaten to death on the steps of a church. Someone goes hungry. Somebody else betrays his best friend for a woman. If you can't find that stuff in life, then you, my friend, don't know crap about life. And why the fuck are you wasting my precious two hours with your movie. I don't have any use for it. I don't have any bloody use for it!"

I'm guessing Alvin is still in bed. It's either that or playing Playstation. 

Is this blog wasting your time?

Akon

About two weeks ago, that beautiful Senegalese-American with the voice of a troubled sexual angel, Akon, performed to a packed Rod Laver Arena.

The kids went in droves to see him. Of course they did. It's AKON!

The next day Australia and the world was shocked in learning there was a brawl. One young man talked to the camera describing the unfortunate events and displaying the scabs and scars on his face. He had been repeatedly kicked.

The world's heart went out to him, that poor kid. What had he done to deserve this?

As Alvin watched the news story he laughed.

"That's what you get for liking Akon." He said.

On a couch

It's Saturday night. 

People are out. 

All over Australia they're out. 

People are meeting, forming friendships, relationships. 

People are fighting. People are dancing.

Drinking, drug taking, mistake making. 

They are the youth and they are alive. 

While his peers are out creating memories and reminding themselves that they are young and beautiful and alive, Alvin lies on a couch. Bad Saturday night television throws a lonely blue glow over his lounge room. 

100% Alvin

Alvin tried coke for the first time on Saturday night. He wasn't sure what to expect. He was told he would feel '100% Alvin'.

He says he felt nothing.

He claimed, 'The world isn't ready for 100% Alvin.'

He called me at 8AM, from what he thought was going to be a house-party, to tell me this story.

Alvin and Eric Bana

I was chatting to Alvin yesterday. Then for no real reason he brought up Eric Bana.

He said, 'How's Eric Bana?'

'What about him?' I replied.

He answered, 'He used to play like weird Australian characters ... and now he's super famous.'

Thought provoking stuff.

A Guy Called Who?

Alvin, that's who. His name is Alvin! 

Try and figure that one out, Allan's family. Go on, I dare youse.

Southern Cross Station

I just got off the phone to Alvin. He's at Southern Cross Station. Last time I saw him was at around 8.30 this morning. He was at a party dancing. Dancing his little life away.

He asked me if I could give him a lift back to the suburbs. He has a basketball game in an hour. This basketball game is a big deal apparently and he is in lots of trouble if he misses it.

I asked him what happened. "Oh man, I fell asleep on a couch and woke up at 3.30," he responds. "I am in so much trouble!"

I didn't want to give him a lift, I'm hungover too. Luckily for me I'm out of petrol and neither of us can afford any."Maybe I could get a cab home and get Mum to pay for it when I get there," he ponders. "Fuck!"

It's raining now. 

Talking Black

I chatted to Alvin over facebook chat today. I asked him how he was going with the fairer sex up on the Gold Coast. 

He replied: Bitches be hatin' 

Then he revealed: I talk like I'm black now btw

I said: sweet

He said: Fo sho

I said: k I'm bailing

He said: peace out niggaz

This is how most of our facebook chats tend to go. We live pretty exciting lives.

All Tough n Shit

I got a text message from Alvin the other night. It said, "Just got in a fight, tough man Alvin is out being all tough n shit." I can't remember if that's actually what it said, but it was something like that. 

Alvin isn't an aggressive guy, definitely not the fighting type at all but he is pretty large and sometimes you can see he has a bit of 'angry man' pent up in him. It was a surprise to read such a message so I called him and got the full story.

Alvin was in the Gold Coast - or on the Gold Coast, I'm not sure which, but he was one of them - for the uni games. He's a bench player for his uni's basketball team. His role in the team is to come off the bench and play aggressive defense, gettin all up in niggah's grills n shit. Other teams don't like it.

While everyone is meant to be there to seriously compete in sports and such, the real reason people go is to get drunk for five nights of the week. Alvin was out with his teammates enjoying the true purpose of the uni games when he was approached by an opponent from the morning's match. The guy was from a team of "douche-bags" as he put it but this guy was being nice, conversing like a nice guy would. After a while though Alvin realised that the guy wasn't being nice at all, he was pretending to be nice so as to perform an act of smart artistry. It is a classic maneuver in the smart arse's arsenal. Alvin, a keen smart arse himself, knows it well.

When Alvin became aware of it he walked away. The guy followed him. Alvin asked him to leave him alone. Instead of leaving him alone the guy complimented his haircut and put his hand on Alvin's head.

Alvin went upstairs. So did the guy. The guy complimented his hair again and touched it again.

Alvin told him that if he did it again, there would be trouble. Alvin wasn't referring to hair trouble either. 

The guy put his hand through Alvin's hair again. With a swing of the arm Alvin's fist cracked the guy's chin. The guy took a swing and cracked Alvin back. The bouncer took the other guy away.

Alvin sent a text message, answered a phone-call from me, then partied on.

Hating Haikus

I wrote a satirical haiku and sent it to Alvin. He made no comment. I pressed him for one. 

He replied that he doesn't get haikus and asked, in the smart-arse style he is known for, to write him an 'Alvin'.

He explained that an 'Alvin' was a poem consisting of three words in the first and third lines and four words ending in rhyme for the second and fourth lines. 

So here it is, the world's first Alvin (I'm sure there are other Alvins but this is the first one done intentionally as an Alvin).

Here you go

you lame dumb dick

you hate haikus

have you seen Rick?

Rick is Alvin's hero. He went missing.

Grandpa Alvin

Alvin found a nifty sweater at his work the other night. It had been handed in to the lost property the day before. It was a stylish yet subtle grey and fit Alvin handsomely. It smelled of old person.

Alvin wore it out after work. He looked good in it. He particularly looked good in it when he would tell people it smelt of old person and then hold out a sleeve for them to smell the scent for themselves.

They would always give the sleeve a sniff and they would always agree that it did indeed smell of old people.

I'm not sure if the sweater made it into his wardrobe at home or not. We can only hope.

Alvin Anonymous

I haven't made a post for Alvin in a while - I've been busy trying to think of a new name for him. Currently Alvin is his real name. (This has just been edited 19/10/09 - Alvin may or may not be his real name)

I made the mistake of telling his brother about the blog who in turn tried to show Alvin's parents (they couldn't find it though). This is bad news for Alvin because as you may or may not have worked out, Alvin is a coked up slut when he's not in his parents home, a real modern Australian scum-bag. 

I need a name that suits him but is still as generic as Alvin. I was thinking Max but I'm unsure, I need to get on to it soon, before Alvin's dark secrets reach his family and he has to move to .... somewhere. I don't know where that somewhere is but I suspect it is cold, dark and lonely. Like Chadstone.