I have a week off.
Among other annoying events, or perhaps that should be non-events, I forgot to eat again today. I mean, I opened the cupboards and had a look around, I opened the fridge and the freezer and I grabbed a couple of things, then I put them back because I couldn't be bothered making anything because I realised I couldn't be bothered eating anything either.
My dog does enough eating for both of us, the fluffy fat red pig that he is. I didn't eat anything yesterday either. I tend to sleep through most of Saturday now. I rang my beloved Liz and spoke to her for an hour or so all the way across the ocean in Oregon. Ok, well she asked me to and I did because I do that sort of thing for people I love and I love Liz to bits.
It would be nice if people didn't shit on her as much as they seem to do. I wish she'd just get on a plane and come to Australia. She could learn to relax a little bit and there's no better place on earth - besides Ibiza - to relax. Australians are generally so laid back it's a wonder we're not all corpses.
I have a week to either find a new gig or just get a regular full time permanent job. Gigs are good because they're not permanent and they pay rather nicely, but they just don't seem to give me the same satisfaction as regular work.
I gave that youth newspaper a thorough going over yesterday too and was stunned and mortified and lots of other unpleasant words ending with d which pretty much meant this newspaper is nothing short of advertising pitched at teenagers. Fucking bastards. What a scam. Someone's getting paid too much and I bet they're not delivering even one tenth for what the misbegotten punter is paying. There's absolutely bugger all in it for young people.
S-Press has to be a better bet, but the thought of taking notepad, pen and paper into school events and that sort of thing smacks of whitewash to me. I don't like it, although to give them their due, they're not pretending to be a charity, they have a massive Your Say section and the ads are pretty much for the sort of stuff the kids go for whether they're advertised or not. Billabong sells itself, they don't need to advertise. S-Press's biggest flaw is the paper itself isn't a freebie. If it were, the circulation would probably go through the roof. Anyway, if I want a writing gig, or even a writing job, I'm going to have to toe someone's line and it sure as shit beats going up against a million other jokers all vying for a spot in The Big Issue (which is a surprisingly good publication) for a couple of hundred bucks a fortnight. That's good money for coffees after work but it ain't gunna cut it when the electrickery bill comes around.
Lastly, I spotted something somewhere which is right up Rageboy's alley right now, considering what he's writing. I must find it again and send him the link, though he's pretty much mapped out his book and everything he's going to put in it. Pro writers tend to do that - get their whole book planned, make the entire framework and never deviate even one iota from that framework as they fill in the gaps. Sorta means I'm probably too late, but it still may interest him nevertheless.
And between the time I wrote that and posted it here, I found the link for which I was searching. Damn I'm good.
The cap I habitually wear is wearing out and I can't get another one. What a bitch.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Saturday, February 18, 2006
They're all talking about it now
One of the kids on the other side, well two of them actually, brought up the subject of filth not exactly propositioning underage girls, but pretty damn close to it and yes, he's involved in the youth division of some political party.
Am I annoyed by this?
Well waddaya reckon!
I had a conversation with her this afternoon and told her it's freaked me out these last two days and although I didn't need to beg her to keep herself and her friends safe, it's the kids who don't have those networks or are in any other way vulnerable that this cunt will pick on. The bloke has a reputation as a creep but when some kid who is feeling isolated for whatever reason seeks out another the rest of the group shuns, it spells Trouble - and makes this Rat fret.
Maybe the kids I know are safe from him, but somewhere, some kid isn't.
Right, so it's my personal hang up but let's face it, when you know from personal experience how those fuckers operate, the patterns are pretty easy to recognise.
Oh did I say hang up? Oops, sorry - I meant hobby horse. I ride that baby not exactly with pride and joy, but I'm not about to abandon my enthusiasm for it, there's too much at stake to leave that sort of thing to chance.
I help those kids feel better about a whole range of things and I know - again from personal experience as well as the words of professionals - that a high self esteem is a kid's best defence against predators. And that's what it's all about, self esteem.
When I see the kids defaulting to laziness or irresponsibility when it comes to things they know they should be doing, I jump on them for it. The best and most efficient means of building their self esteem is to make them feel as though they can achieve their goals, that they can operate effectively in this world and they have back-ups if they need them. (Networking.)
When they default, they know they've defaulted. They can't lie to themselves and I don't let them get away with trying to spring that shit on me either. They know it too. Probably why the ones with whom I've spent the most time actually do respect me.
I'm tough on them because defaulting, taking the easy way out or making excuses LOWERS their sense of self esteem. Whatever it takes to motivate them to achieve even tiny goals is gold dust to me. Knowing their interests and aspirations is how I fight their laziness or defaulting and taking the easy way out. Is that using their goals against them or is it effective in motivating them to get off their arses and help themselves to be what they want to be?
We do have a lot of laughs along the way, I'm not saying I stand over them like some ogre demanding they pull their fingers out and get on with their lives, but I do make heavy usage of analogies and sometimes it's hard to come up with really good ones. I can't handle this attitude of self defeat which I first saw in print in 1991 in John Holt's excellent book "How Children Fail" in the chapter titled "Strategies".
Being successful is hard work and developing strategies for dealing with people who want you to succeed is a recipe for personal disaster. They have to bite the bullet and do what they know is the right thing to do, not make excuses or find reasons for doing the wrong thing and being lazy.
It's hard being tough with some of those kids too. I don't want to lose any of them. I really do love them that much. But if they see me as someone on whom they can rely, how bad would it be to let them down by ignoring the warning signs and being a part of their failure instead of being there to see them achieve everything they want to achieve. I can't do that. I won't do it.
*sigh*
It's ok to admit you can't do something but only after they've given it their best shot and not some half arsed token gesture of an attempt. Asking for help and support is probably the hardest aspect of working towards personal success anyway. I hope I make it easy for them to come to me when they want that kind of support and encouragement.
I think I do. They've come to me with some pretty far out questions and requests, and they let me do other stuff for them too, particularly when it comes to writing or music and I absolutely leap on even half an opportunity to do whatever I can. One of those requests took me four days to finish, but it was worth it.
Anyway, I'm done for tonight. Take what you will from all of this and apply it to whomever you please. If self esteem doesn't rate with anyone reading this, then kindly just fuck off. I'm not interested in entertaining the willful emotional leper.
Am I annoyed by this?
Well waddaya reckon!
I had a conversation with her this afternoon and told her it's freaked me out these last two days and although I didn't need to beg her to keep herself and her friends safe, it's the kids who don't have those networks or are in any other way vulnerable that this cunt will pick on. The bloke has a reputation as a creep but when some kid who is feeling isolated for whatever reason seeks out another the rest of the group shuns, it spells Trouble - and makes this Rat fret.
Maybe the kids I know are safe from him, but somewhere, some kid isn't.
Right, so it's my personal hang up but let's face it, when you know from personal experience how those fuckers operate, the patterns are pretty easy to recognise.
Oh did I say hang up? Oops, sorry - I meant hobby horse. I ride that baby not exactly with pride and joy, but I'm not about to abandon my enthusiasm for it, there's too much at stake to leave that sort of thing to chance.
I help those kids feel better about a whole range of things and I know - again from personal experience as well as the words of professionals - that a high self esteem is a kid's best defence against predators. And that's what it's all about, self esteem.
When I see the kids defaulting to laziness or irresponsibility when it comes to things they know they should be doing, I jump on them for it. The best and most efficient means of building their self esteem is to make them feel as though they can achieve their goals, that they can operate effectively in this world and they have back-ups if they need them. (Networking.)
When they default, they know they've defaulted. They can't lie to themselves and I don't let them get away with trying to spring that shit on me either. They know it too. Probably why the ones with whom I've spent the most time actually do respect me.
I'm tough on them because defaulting, taking the easy way out or making excuses LOWERS their sense of self esteem. Whatever it takes to motivate them to achieve even tiny goals is gold dust to me. Knowing their interests and aspirations is how I fight their laziness or defaulting and taking the easy way out. Is that using their goals against them or is it effective in motivating them to get off their arses and help themselves to be what they want to be?
We do have a lot of laughs along the way, I'm not saying I stand over them like some ogre demanding they pull their fingers out and get on with their lives, but I do make heavy usage of analogies and sometimes it's hard to come up with really good ones. I can't handle this attitude of self defeat which I first saw in print in 1991 in John Holt's excellent book "How Children Fail" in the chapter titled "Strategies".
Being successful is hard work and developing strategies for dealing with people who want you to succeed is a recipe for personal disaster. They have to bite the bullet and do what they know is the right thing to do, not make excuses or find reasons for doing the wrong thing and being lazy.
It's hard being tough with some of those kids too. I don't want to lose any of them. I really do love them that much. But if they see me as someone on whom they can rely, how bad would it be to let them down by ignoring the warning signs and being a part of their failure instead of being there to see them achieve everything they want to achieve. I can't do that. I won't do it.
*sigh*
It's ok to admit you can't do something but only after they've given it their best shot and not some half arsed token gesture of an attempt. Asking for help and support is probably the hardest aspect of working towards personal success anyway. I hope I make it easy for them to come to me when they want that kind of support and encouragement.
I think I do. They've come to me with some pretty far out questions and requests, and they let me do other stuff for them too, particularly when it comes to writing or music and I absolutely leap on even half an opportunity to do whatever I can. One of those requests took me four days to finish, but it was worth it.
Anyway, I'm done for tonight. Take what you will from all of this and apply it to whomever you please. If self esteem doesn't rate with anyone reading this, then kindly just fuck off. I'm not interested in entertaining the willful emotional leper.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Too boring to do over there...
What's worse than a Josh with too much time on his hands?
A plagiarising Rat with even more time.
:x: do you wish you could live somewhere else: No way. Melbourne's perfect.
:x: do you think about suicide: Not any more.
:x: do you believe in online dating: I've never been that lonely.
:x: do you think others find you attractive: More fool them if they do.
:x: do you want (more) piercings: No.
:x: do you like cleaning: Hate it.
:x: do you like roller coasters: No.
:x: write in cursive or print: Both.
:x: last talked to: George
:x: last thought of: Josh - it's his quiz.
:x: last showered: Last night.
:x: last cut your nails: Last week.
:x: last did laundry: Last Sunday.
:x: last hugged a tree: I don't do that herbisexual bullshit
:x: last watched anime: What's anime?
:x: last prayed: More than 20 years ago, still waiting for an answer.
for or against…
:x: long distant relationships: Madder than mad. Even short distance ones are fraught with danger.
:x: killing people: If the bastards deserve to die.
:x: teenage smoking: dislike it
:x: driving drunk: Fucking idiots.
:x: gay/lesbian relationships: For.
:x: soap operas: For braindead fat housebound dole bludgers only.
have you…
:x: ever cried over a romantic interest: No
:x: ever been in a fist fight: Not really. When I hit, I don't get hit back.
:x: ever been arrested: Yes
:x: ever had a friend die: More than I care to number.
:x: ever dated a cousin: Don't have any cousins.
:x: ever used a gun: Yes
:x: ever frenched kiss: Yes
:x: ever finished a puzzle: Yes
:x: ever got surgery: Yes
:x: ever got beat up: No
:x: ever hated someone: So much it hurts.
:x: ever made a huge mistake: More than I care to remember..
:x: ever tried any drugs: Not many
:x: ever jogged a mile: Only when I was young and foolish
:x: ever played w/ someone’s feelings: Unintentionally perhaps.
:x: ever had feelings for someone younger than you: Of course.
what..
:x: shoes do you wear: Puma.
:x: are you scared of: Nothing in particular.
:x: do you sleep in: Whatever I last wore during the day.
:x: did you eat for lunch today: Didn't.
:x: is love: A good excuse for behaving like a tosspot.
number…
:x: of times I have had my heart broken?: Once or twice.
:x: of hearts I have broken?: One or two.
:x: of girls I have kissed?: lost count
:x: of boys I have kissed?: Only my former boss and my little brother.
:x: of guys/girls you've rejected?: All of them now.
:x: of drugs you taken: God, how many are there!
:x: of people you lean on?: 1
:x: of people you broke up with?: Don't recall
:x: of people who broke up with you?: See above.
Would you say you are...
:x: pretty: Nope
:x: funny: Meh
:x: hot: No way.
:x: friendly: Not usually
:x: ugly: Not in the dark
:x: loveable: Hope not
:x: caring: Yes
:x: dorky: Who's asking?
:x: cocky: I'm not cocky, I'm just fuckin' awesome. (I left this one as I found it.)
:x: girly: Never
:x: boyish: Often.
:x: smart: Yeah I'd say so.
:x: pimp: Nah
:x: angel: Definitely not
:x: gangster: Bunch of insecure tossers.
:x: God: No, Cheri's God, Ardra's the Devil and I'm just the mail man..
favorite…
:x: FOUR letter word: Crap
:x: comedian: Robin Williams/ Billy Connolly
:x: candy: Chocolate
:x: cartoon: Prince Planet
:x: cereal: I don't really have one
:x: chewing gum: Nah
:x: day of week: Saturday
:x: least fave day: Thursday
:x: jello flavor: Disgusting revolting stuff - even to wrestle in.
:x: summer/winter: Autumn
:x: trampolines or swimming pools: Pools
Last person who/that...
:x: slept in your bed: Me
:x: saw you cry: I don't know.
:x: made you cry: My little brother.
:x: you went to the movies with: George
:x: yelled at you: George?
:x: sent you an email: Tiffers.
have you ever…
:x: said "I love you" and meant it?: Yeah.
:x: gone out in public in your pajamas?: Yeah, except they weren't MY pyjamas.
:x: kept a secret from everyone?: I guess.
:x: cried during a movie?: Often. I lose it big time in movies.
:x: ever at anytime owned new kids on the block?: No, I don't do that sort of thing.
:x: planned your week based on the TV Guide?: Tv, that's what they had before the internet isn't it?
:x: been on stage?: Heaps of times
:x: been to New York? No
:x: been to California?: No
:x: been to Florida?: No
:x: Hawaii?: No
:x: China?: No
:x: Canada?: One of the few places to which I would like to go.
:x: Europe?: No
:x: what time is it now? 9:42pm
:x: apples or bananas?: Bananas
:x: blue or red?: Blue
:x: walmart or target?: I'd rather die
:x: spring or fall?: Autumn. Wankers who write these things should think globally.
:x: what are you gonna do after you finish this?: Dunno.
:x: what was the last meal you ate?: Lunch - yesterday.
:x: are you bored?: Probably
:x: last noise you heard? Song by Aerosmith.
:x: last smell you sniffed?: Apple pie.
:x: last time you went out of state/province?: 1986
:x: last car ride: two hours ago.
friendship/love…
:x: do you believe in love at first sight?: Of course.
:x: do you want children one day & if so, how many?: If I ever have children it will be for the sheer effect of messing with their heads. (Josh's answer, I'll go with this one too.
:x: most important thing to you in a friendship is?: My friends know when to leave me the fuck alone.
random stuff…
:x: criminal record?: As long as my arm
:x: do you speak any other languages?: I can swear in several
:x: name some of your favorite things in your bedroom: Me.
:x: worst feeling in the world?: Pass.
:x: who are you in love with?: Nobody.
your…
:x: nickname(s): Rat
:x: initials: PR
:x: how old do you look?: 30ish
:x: how old do you act?: 15
:x: glasses/contacts?: Only for reading at the end of a long day.
:x: braces: No
:x: do you have any pets?: Yeah
:x: you get embarrassed?: Sometimes.
:x: what upsets you?: People in general. Mostly the stupid ones.
LoVe LiFe-
:x; who do you love/like a lot: EA
:x: who was your previous signifigant other: Does my little brother count?
:x: who was the last person you kissed: My former boss.
:x: who was the last person you hugged: My boss's wife.
:x: how long have you been with your signifigant other: I'm not and hope not to be.
:x: what is your best memory with this person: solitude.
ChatRat
A plagiarising Rat with even more time.
:x: do you wish you could live somewhere else: No way. Melbourne's perfect.
:x: do you think about suicide: Not any more.
:x: do you believe in online dating: I've never been that lonely.
:x: do you think others find you attractive: More fool them if they do.
:x: do you want (more) piercings: No.
:x: do you like cleaning: Hate it.
:x: do you like roller coasters: No.
:x: write in cursive or print: Both.
:x: last talked to: George
:x: last thought of: Josh - it's his quiz.
:x: last showered: Last night.
:x: last cut your nails: Last week.
:x: last did laundry: Last Sunday.
:x: last hugged a tree: I don't do that herbisexual bullshit
:x: last watched anime: What's anime?
:x: last prayed: More than 20 years ago, still waiting for an answer.
for or against…
:x: long distant relationships: Madder than mad. Even short distance ones are fraught with danger.
:x: killing people: If the bastards deserve to die.
:x: teenage smoking: dislike it
:x: driving drunk: Fucking idiots.
:x: gay/lesbian relationships: For.
:x: soap operas: For braindead fat housebound dole bludgers only.
have you…
:x: ever cried over a romantic interest: No
:x: ever been in a fist fight: Not really. When I hit, I don't get hit back.
:x: ever been arrested: Yes
:x: ever had a friend die: More than I care to number.
:x: ever dated a cousin: Don't have any cousins.
:x: ever used a gun: Yes
:x: ever frenched kiss: Yes
:x: ever finished a puzzle: Yes
:x: ever got surgery: Yes
:x: ever got beat up: No
:x: ever hated someone: So much it hurts.
:x: ever made a huge mistake: More than I care to remember..
:x: ever tried any drugs: Not many
:x: ever jogged a mile: Only when I was young and foolish
:x: ever played w/ someone’s feelings: Unintentionally perhaps.
:x: ever had feelings for someone younger than you: Of course.
what..
:x: shoes do you wear: Puma.
:x: are you scared of: Nothing in particular.
:x: do you sleep in: Whatever I last wore during the day.
:x: did you eat for lunch today: Didn't.
:x: is love: A good excuse for behaving like a tosspot.
number…
:x: of times I have had my heart broken?: Once or twice.
:x: of hearts I have broken?: One or two.
:x: of girls I have kissed?: lost count
:x: of boys I have kissed?: Only my former boss and my little brother.
:x: of guys/girls you've rejected?: All of them now.
:x: of drugs you taken: God, how many are there!
:x: of people you lean on?: 1
:x: of people you broke up with?: Don't recall
:x: of people who broke up with you?: See above.
Would you say you are...
:x: pretty: Nope
:x: funny: Meh
:x: hot: No way.
:x: friendly: Not usually
:x: ugly: Not in the dark
:x: loveable: Hope not
:x: caring: Yes
:x: dorky: Who's asking?
:x: cocky: I'm not cocky, I'm just fuckin' awesome. (I left this one as I found it.)
:x: girly: Never
:x: boyish: Often.
:x: smart: Yeah I'd say so.
:x: pimp: Nah
:x: angel: Definitely not
:x: gangster: Bunch of insecure tossers.
:x: God: No, Cheri's God, Ardra's the Devil and I'm just the mail man..
favorite…
:x: FOUR letter word: Crap
:x: comedian: Robin Williams/ Billy Connolly
:x: candy: Chocolate
:x: cartoon: Prince Planet
:x: cereal: I don't really have one
:x: chewing gum: Nah
:x: day of week: Saturday
:x: least fave day: Thursday
:x: jello flavor: Disgusting revolting stuff - even to wrestle in.
:x: summer/winter: Autumn
:x: trampolines or swimming pools: Pools
Last person who/that...
:x: slept in your bed: Me
:x: saw you cry: I don't know.
:x: made you cry: My little brother.
:x: you went to the movies with: George
:x: yelled at you: George?
:x: sent you an email: Tiffers.
have you ever…
:x: said "I love you" and meant it?: Yeah.
:x: gone out in public in your pajamas?: Yeah, except they weren't MY pyjamas.
:x: kept a secret from everyone?: I guess.
:x: cried during a movie?: Often. I lose it big time in movies.
:x: ever at anytime owned new kids on the block?: No, I don't do that sort of thing.
:x: planned your week based on the TV Guide?: Tv, that's what they had before the internet isn't it?
:x: been on stage?: Heaps of times
:x: been to New York? No
:x: been to California?: No
:x: been to Florida?: No
:x: Hawaii?: No
:x: China?: No
:x: Canada?: One of the few places to which I would like to go.
:x: Europe?: No
:x: what time is it now? 9:42pm
:x: apples or bananas?: Bananas
:x: blue or red?: Blue
:x: walmart or target?: I'd rather die
:x: spring or fall?: Autumn. Wankers who write these things should think globally.
:x: what are you gonna do after you finish this?: Dunno.
:x: what was the last meal you ate?: Lunch - yesterday.
:x: are you bored?: Probably
:x: last noise you heard? Song by Aerosmith.
:x: last smell you sniffed?: Apple pie.
:x: last time you went out of state/province?: 1986
:x: last car ride: two hours ago.
friendship/love…
:x: do you believe in love at first sight?: Of course.
:x: do you want children one day & if so, how many?: If I ever have children it will be for the sheer effect of messing with their heads. (Josh's answer, I'll go with this one too.
:x: most important thing to you in a friendship is?: My friends know when to leave me the fuck alone.
random stuff…
:x: criminal record?: As long as my arm
:x: do you speak any other languages?: I can swear in several
:x: name some of your favorite things in your bedroom: Me.
:x: worst feeling in the world?: Pass.
:x: who are you in love with?: Nobody.
your…
:x: nickname(s): Rat
:x: initials: PR
:x: how old do you look?: 30ish
:x: how old do you act?: 15
:x: glasses/contacts?: Only for reading at the end of a long day.
:x: braces: No
:x: do you have any pets?: Yeah
:x: you get embarrassed?: Sometimes.
:x: what upsets you?: People in general. Mostly the stupid ones.
LoVe LiFe-
:x; who do you love/like a lot: EA
:x: who was your previous signifigant other: Does my little brother count?
:x: who was the last person you kissed: My former boss.
:x: who was the last person you hugged: My boss's wife.
:x: how long have you been with your signifigant other: I'm not and hope not to be.
:x: what is your best memory with this person: solitude.
ChatRat
Monday, February 06, 2006
Tempted
The Russian Stock Exchange has been disrupted by a computer virus.
How unfortunate!
If I didn't find this inherently amusing, you wouldn't be reading about it here. If I thought it a well written article, I'd have copied it here but the possibilities for gigglage were just hanging in the wind like a fat grandma's bloomers on a clothesline in a strong breeze.
What on earth do they trade on the Russian stock exchange anyway? Shares in coal mines? Vodka distilleries? Potato farms? Gee, they'd be worth a packet. How about nuclear power plants... oooh, bad!
Personally, I was unaware the Russkies even had a stock exchange. It's a massive wasteland where everyone thinks food is a luxury to be afforded only by the corrupt, the wealthy and western tourists.
I know that's not a terribly accurate view of Moscow and St Petersberg and probably one or two other large cities, but in the far east of that country, the peasants live on nothing but whale meat, brought to shore in those funny little boats you see being used as fishing boats in tourist brochures for the Philippines. Only there aren't any Philippino fishermen within cooee of Vladivostok.
In other news, I'm feeling decidedly dejected because it seems whilst the owners of my current gig were away on holidays, several thousand dollars went missing and I had everything and nothing to do with it.
I gathered and recorded the taking of the money in the first place, but between my hands and the bank, wads of it went missing and they have their eyes firmly planted on me as being the culprit.
I WISH!!
If I'd pinched a few thousand dollars in a two week spree, what's the chances of me still being there to wait for the fallout? Not a snowflake's chance in hell. I'd be sunning myself in the Victorian high country, throwing stones at errant cattle and - with my laptop computer, plugging in and writing like someone possessed.
I wish I knew where the money went too. I'd rest easier then. It's one thing to be accused of something I haven't done but it's bloody uncomfortable having nothing with which to prove my innocence because it's my word against the paper records I kept - some of which have also gone missing through no fault of my own - and it makes me look as guilty as sin.
There are a couple of things in my favour though. Firstly, I put in very long hours and don't record them which means they're getting my time for nothing. Secondly, mishaps have occurred when I haven't been there. Thirdly, the bloke they entrusted with the shop's management while they were on holidays has been playing funny buggers with them for the last two weeks over unrelated matters.
But I'm still feeling exceedingly disappointed that the finger of blame and incrimination is pointed almost exclusively in my direction and I don't have an adequate answer.
If this gets worse, I'll just quit. I don't care, I'm not going to stand for being accused of something I haven't done and be branded as untrustworthy - a liar and a thief - in short. I just won't.
What bugs me no end though is that I can't tell for sure who's bullshitting whom but I'm piggy in the middle.
I'm going to get some professional advice from Lance on this one. I seriously want out of this whole stupid situation not of my making but I want to get out in such fashion it doesn't make me appear to be guilty of something I haven't done.
I want to help these people, not rub their noses in the dust of lightfingeredness. But I'm still number one in this equation. I'm not about to compromise my own integrity for the sake of a brawl between the proprietors and whomever it is who either should be able to account for the missing money or who should be held accountable for it having actually gone missing.
All that just isn't me. I get involved with the business, not the warping and undermining of it.
Enough of that.
Some jerks put out the most pathetic remake of one of my favourite songs - Forever Young - and whilst the film clip is a good one, the rendition is pox. I hate it.
Too bad. I'm going to listen to a bit of Simon & Garfunkel then go to bed.
Sod the whole world for a few hours. It can bloody well take care of itself without me for a bit.
ChatRat
How unfortunate!
If I didn't find this inherently amusing, you wouldn't be reading about it here. If I thought it a well written article, I'd have copied it here but the possibilities for gigglage were just hanging in the wind like a fat grandma's bloomers on a clothesline in a strong breeze.
What on earth do they trade on the Russian stock exchange anyway? Shares in coal mines? Vodka distilleries? Potato farms? Gee, they'd be worth a packet. How about nuclear power plants... oooh, bad!
Personally, I was unaware the Russkies even had a stock exchange. It's a massive wasteland where everyone thinks food is a luxury to be afforded only by the corrupt, the wealthy and western tourists.
I know that's not a terribly accurate view of Moscow and St Petersberg and probably one or two other large cities, but in the far east of that country, the peasants live on nothing but whale meat, brought to shore in those funny little boats you see being used as fishing boats in tourist brochures for the Philippines. Only there aren't any Philippino fishermen within cooee of Vladivostok.
In other news, I'm feeling decidedly dejected because it seems whilst the owners of my current gig were away on holidays, several thousand dollars went missing and I had everything and nothing to do with it.
I gathered and recorded the taking of the money in the first place, but between my hands and the bank, wads of it went missing and they have their eyes firmly planted on me as being the culprit.
I WISH!!
If I'd pinched a few thousand dollars in a two week spree, what's the chances of me still being there to wait for the fallout? Not a snowflake's chance in hell. I'd be sunning myself in the Victorian high country, throwing stones at errant cattle and - with my laptop computer, plugging in and writing like someone possessed.
I wish I knew where the money went too. I'd rest easier then. It's one thing to be accused of something I haven't done but it's bloody uncomfortable having nothing with which to prove my innocence because it's my word against the paper records I kept - some of which have also gone missing through no fault of my own - and it makes me look as guilty as sin.
There are a couple of things in my favour though. Firstly, I put in very long hours and don't record them which means they're getting my time for nothing. Secondly, mishaps have occurred when I haven't been there. Thirdly, the bloke they entrusted with the shop's management while they were on holidays has been playing funny buggers with them for the last two weeks over unrelated matters.
But I'm still feeling exceedingly disappointed that the finger of blame and incrimination is pointed almost exclusively in my direction and I don't have an adequate answer.
If this gets worse, I'll just quit. I don't care, I'm not going to stand for being accused of something I haven't done and be branded as untrustworthy - a liar and a thief - in short. I just won't.
What bugs me no end though is that I can't tell for sure who's bullshitting whom but I'm piggy in the middle.
I'm going to get some professional advice from Lance on this one. I seriously want out of this whole stupid situation not of my making but I want to get out in such fashion it doesn't make me appear to be guilty of something I haven't done.
I want to help these people, not rub their noses in the dust of lightfingeredness. But I'm still number one in this equation. I'm not about to compromise my own integrity for the sake of a brawl between the proprietors and whomever it is who either should be able to account for the missing money or who should be held accountable for it having actually gone missing.
All that just isn't me. I get involved with the business, not the warping and undermining of it.
Enough of that.
Some jerks put out the most pathetic remake of one of my favourite songs - Forever Young - and whilst the film clip is a good one, the rendition is pox. I hate it.
Too bad. I'm going to listen to a bit of Simon & Garfunkel then go to bed.
Sod the whole world for a few hours. It can bloody well take care of itself without me for a bit.
ChatRat
Losing touch.
Last week I worked a total of 76 hours. I'm officially very very tired.
I'm also getting distressed. I'm very aware that where before I had time at the right time of day to exchange messages with people in real time, that has been supplanted these two weeks just past by work in which I'm rapidly losing interest.
Income is nice but money is only as good as the things for which it used. There's no point having plenty of money and not having the time to enjoy the privileges of being cashed up.
While I know "it's all going to be ok in the long run", it upsets me because it doesn't take a whole lot to go from being ok to being outstanding - for the better or the worse. An ounce of careful management is worth a ton of remedial action.
Moreover, if 99% of perspiration is the result of 1% of inspiration, it doesn't take much to figure out that without that tiny bit of inspiration, all the perspiration will pretty much be for someone else's benefit. Work for the man or be the man for whom others work. You know how it goes.
For those who are missing out on what has erstwhile been the norm, believe me when I say it's burning a hole in my soul as well. I still love you all and miss you terribly.
I'm also getting distressed. I'm very aware that where before I had time at the right time of day to exchange messages with people in real time, that has been supplanted these two weeks just past by work in which I'm rapidly losing interest.
Income is nice but money is only as good as the things for which it used. There's no point having plenty of money and not having the time to enjoy the privileges of being cashed up.
While I know "it's all going to be ok in the long run", it upsets me because it doesn't take a whole lot to go from being ok to being outstanding - for the better or the worse. An ounce of careful management is worth a ton of remedial action.
Moreover, if 99% of perspiration is the result of 1% of inspiration, it doesn't take much to figure out that without that tiny bit of inspiration, all the perspiration will pretty much be for someone else's benefit. Work for the man or be the man for whom others work. You know how it goes.
For those who are missing out on what has erstwhile been the norm, believe me when I say it's burning a hole in my soul as well. I still love you all and miss you terribly.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
This cracked me up...
An author answers questions from an interviewer...
How does it feel to receive a good review or an award?
I feel pleased to live in a world where there are such good critics.
And how does it feel to receive a bad review?
I feel sad to live in a world where there are such poor critics.
An ego of that magnitude just deserves respect.
How does it feel to receive a good review or an award?
I feel pleased to live in a world where there are such good critics.
And how does it feel to receive a bad review?
I feel sad to live in a world where there are such poor critics.
An ego of that magnitude just deserves respect.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Dragging on...
I dislike anniversaries of things, except the anniversary of the federation of Australia, January 26, also known as Australia Day.
The trouble is, a week from today, it's the anniversary of Christopher's death and as much as I'd like to deny it, it's bugging me not a little.
It's been 6 years (less 7 days) since he died and I don't know whether to be ashamed or proud of the fact I still miss him terribly and that it still hurts.
Right now, I'm still overwhelmingly confident I will never get involved in anything resembling a close personal relationship again. Not that it doesn't seem worthwhile, it's just I haven't come to terms with so magnitudinous a loss yet. Some part of me is still totally distracted by what's no longer there.
Cody would leap on it with glee if I surmised my preoccupation with the Crew, as I've affectionately come to know the kids on the other side, is largely down to missing my little brother so much - considering he was only 19 when he died.
I do sometimes fantasize about a few of them as pseudo replacements for Christopher, but not in any serious way. They are their own people, all different from each other and all different from Christopher. I love them because of who they are, not because I miss my brother.
Looking after Christopher was something of a habit. The only time I wasn't doing something revolving around caring for him was when I was asleep. And I preferred sleeping when he was awake because it was next to impossible to sleep when he was asleep because the little bastard snored like a freight train. It made the windows rattle. When he slept, I was out working but I would call in regularly to make sure he was ok. I was lucky to have had such an understanding boss at the time.
When he died, I had no option but to break the habit. I didn't know what to do with myself. Not only had I lost the person I loved more than any other before or since, my daily routine was ruined.
I'd get up at 4am and go to work, Chris would still be asleep. I'd drop in around 9 to make sure he was ok and get him anything he needed. If he were awake and wanted to come with me, I'd get him dressed and take him back to work with me where he would sit outside and watch the passing traffic until about 1pm when I'd finish. Then I'd spend the rest of the day with him - usually fighting about some stupid thing or other - and we'd end up back at home where I'd crash by 10pm while he watched the television.
Towards the end, we moved the mattresses from his bed and mine into the loungeroom so if he needed anything, he could wake me up. He needed to sleep by the heater because the cold made him ache too much and even morphine wouldn't calm him down. There were days and nights he was in so much pain, all I could do was hold him.
There were times I had to carry him to the car and drive him to hospital, shouting at him to make him remember to breathe. And Christopher wasn't small. He was a stocky nugget of a kid. He lost 20 kilos in his last few months, and I don't know whether he gave up on himself or pitied me for what I was going through watching him waste away, unable even to take care of his basic needs. Before he got sick, he was a small mountain of a kid, strong as an ox. To need help showering and dressing himself was devastating for him. If we didn't share that bond of unequivocal love and trust, that would just have been nightmarish for both of us. He used to apologise if he needed me to help him get to the toilet if it interrupted what I was doing. Then I would hold him again, sometimes for hours, just to reaffirm the fact I still loved him.
There was nothing I didn't do for him and nothing I wouldn't have done for him. It's an attitude that became, as I said, a habit and one I was neither willing nor ready to break. What I got out of caring for him was fulfillment. It was me being more than just me, it was me being fundamental to his life as well. I don't even know how to describe how that made me feel except to lose that feeling suddenly left a massive hole, not only in my daily routine, but in me as a person. Half of me was gone. In many ways, a more noble part of me.
What I get from those kids on the other side is an opportunity to again do in a greatly reduced fashion the one thing that brought me unequalled joy, pride and pleasure, the best thing I can say I've ever done and that is to care about someone other than myself. Christopher could have opted to go into a hospice or hospital, but he hated the very thought of that and chose to stay with me instead. For better or worse, I wouldn't have had it any other way either. What has been the cost to me for doing what I did instead of putting him somewhere he could have had 24/7 professional care? I don't know. Did I gain as a person? Again, I don't know. Would I feel differently about so many things now had I not taken care of my little brother? Maybe. One emotion I don't feel though, is guilt. I did my very best every waking minute of my life and I was 100% devoted to Christopher.
In view of the fact there are times - like the upcoming anniversary of his death - when I feel that loss more keenly than normal, was taking care of Christopher the best thing I could have done for myself? Hindsight, being the interminable fink it is, I have to say the answer is 'no'. It probably wasn't the best thing I could have done for myself. But I can only guess at how I'd feel if I'd have done anything else. I have no alternative but to think I'd feel much worse, and yes, very very guiltridden.
And that's why I can't help wanting to do the things I do and why I can't help wanting and needing to be around for the kids on the other side. Not just the Crew, but all the other kids from the other side as well. That these kids allow me to do that is what continually brings me so much pride and joy.
Parents don't always get things right. They quite often get things very wrong, but as long as there is love, there can be forgiveness for past mistakes. If together a family can muddle its way through the upbringing of a child, the child will turn out just fine as long as there is love for and trust in one another.
I wanted to blog this here instead of there because to me, imposing this sort of emotional burden on a kid is nothing short of abuse. I've no doubt one or two of them will read this, but it's their choice. If I did this over there, it has the potential not to be. If any of them cared enough to read this and comment here, I would take that as a pretty good guage of whether they feel I'm a pain the arse or if, indeed, they place any value on what we've done together over the last 6 months.
For those who needed a reason why I'm there at all, this is it.
For those who need to know what I do there, well, I converse. We talk about music, books, poetry, people, politics, history, blogs and the internet. They send me their music and they listen to mine. We share ideas and we laugh together. Sometimes, I listen to them when they need someone to listen to them or even just to know that someone is there who will listen to them if they ever need to talk.
I blogged this here because although I trust them enough to treat this sensibly, the idea they might take my happiness on as some sort of personal responsibility doesn't sit well with me - and there is more than one who might very well feel that way. That's not what I want. I'm pretty happy just as I am. I don't need any sort of moral support right now. I just wanted to say this because it's important to me to properly identify what I'm feeling - both about this upcoming anniversary of Christopher's death - and my interaction with all of them and how or if the two are related and what that relationship might be.
Maybe not doing this sooner is what has contributed to my making contact with the kids on the other side at all. Again I don't know, although I do suspect that's probably very likely. I can't stress enough how important it is to properly and honestly identify our emotions and deal with them openly and honestly and if that means keeping a diary or blogging, then that's what it means.
When Christopher died, I had an emotional breakdown which was probably a major contributing factor to my last heart attack. Put simply, I stopped wanting to live. I knew that much and it didn't need any further identification than that. But now I do want to live and today, with so much angst being generated because of the date and the anniversary it represents, I'm moved to deal with these feelings I've been carrying for 6 long years. I'll probably blog something similar next week, but the next big bit of writing I will be doing will be on Thursday when I put out the next edition of The Swamp, which will be another Worst Business Practice Award - the 8th WBP since I started them in 2001.
Feel free to comment but be warned now, I won't be happy if any stupid platitudes appear hereunder and I may choose to either ignore or retaliate. It'll depend on the weather.
The trouble is, a week from today, it's the anniversary of Christopher's death and as much as I'd like to deny it, it's bugging me not a little.
It's been 6 years (less 7 days) since he died and I don't know whether to be ashamed or proud of the fact I still miss him terribly and that it still hurts.
Right now, I'm still overwhelmingly confident I will never get involved in anything resembling a close personal relationship again. Not that it doesn't seem worthwhile, it's just I haven't come to terms with so magnitudinous a loss yet. Some part of me is still totally distracted by what's no longer there.
Cody would leap on it with glee if I surmised my preoccupation with the Crew, as I've affectionately come to know the kids on the other side, is largely down to missing my little brother so much - considering he was only 19 when he died.
I do sometimes fantasize about a few of them as pseudo replacements for Christopher, but not in any serious way. They are their own people, all different from each other and all different from Christopher. I love them because of who they are, not because I miss my brother.
Looking after Christopher was something of a habit. The only time I wasn't doing something revolving around caring for him was when I was asleep. And I preferred sleeping when he was awake because it was next to impossible to sleep when he was asleep because the little bastard snored like a freight train. It made the windows rattle. When he slept, I was out working but I would call in regularly to make sure he was ok. I was lucky to have had such an understanding boss at the time.
When he died, I had no option but to break the habit. I didn't know what to do with myself. Not only had I lost the person I loved more than any other before or since, my daily routine was ruined.
I'd get up at 4am and go to work, Chris would still be asleep. I'd drop in around 9 to make sure he was ok and get him anything he needed. If he were awake and wanted to come with me, I'd get him dressed and take him back to work with me where he would sit outside and watch the passing traffic until about 1pm when I'd finish. Then I'd spend the rest of the day with him - usually fighting about some stupid thing or other - and we'd end up back at home where I'd crash by 10pm while he watched the television.
Towards the end, we moved the mattresses from his bed and mine into the loungeroom so if he needed anything, he could wake me up. He needed to sleep by the heater because the cold made him ache too much and even morphine wouldn't calm him down. There were days and nights he was in so much pain, all I could do was hold him.
There were times I had to carry him to the car and drive him to hospital, shouting at him to make him remember to breathe. And Christopher wasn't small. He was a stocky nugget of a kid. He lost 20 kilos in his last few months, and I don't know whether he gave up on himself or pitied me for what I was going through watching him waste away, unable even to take care of his basic needs. Before he got sick, he was a small mountain of a kid, strong as an ox. To need help showering and dressing himself was devastating for him. If we didn't share that bond of unequivocal love and trust, that would just have been nightmarish for both of us. He used to apologise if he needed me to help him get to the toilet if it interrupted what I was doing. Then I would hold him again, sometimes for hours, just to reaffirm the fact I still loved him.
There was nothing I didn't do for him and nothing I wouldn't have done for him. It's an attitude that became, as I said, a habit and one I was neither willing nor ready to break. What I got out of caring for him was fulfillment. It was me being more than just me, it was me being fundamental to his life as well. I don't even know how to describe how that made me feel except to lose that feeling suddenly left a massive hole, not only in my daily routine, but in me as a person. Half of me was gone. In many ways, a more noble part of me.
What I get from those kids on the other side is an opportunity to again do in a greatly reduced fashion the one thing that brought me unequalled joy, pride and pleasure, the best thing I can say I've ever done and that is to care about someone other than myself. Christopher could have opted to go into a hospice or hospital, but he hated the very thought of that and chose to stay with me instead. For better or worse, I wouldn't have had it any other way either. What has been the cost to me for doing what I did instead of putting him somewhere he could have had 24/7 professional care? I don't know. Did I gain as a person? Again, I don't know. Would I feel differently about so many things now had I not taken care of my little brother? Maybe. One emotion I don't feel though, is guilt. I did my very best every waking minute of my life and I was 100% devoted to Christopher.
In view of the fact there are times - like the upcoming anniversary of his death - when I feel that loss more keenly than normal, was taking care of Christopher the best thing I could have done for myself? Hindsight, being the interminable fink it is, I have to say the answer is 'no'. It probably wasn't the best thing I could have done for myself. But I can only guess at how I'd feel if I'd have done anything else. I have no alternative but to think I'd feel much worse, and yes, very very guiltridden.
And that's why I can't help wanting to do the things I do and why I can't help wanting and needing to be around for the kids on the other side. Not just the Crew, but all the other kids from the other side as well. That these kids allow me to do that is what continually brings me so much pride and joy.
Parents don't always get things right. They quite often get things very wrong, but as long as there is love, there can be forgiveness for past mistakes. If together a family can muddle its way through the upbringing of a child, the child will turn out just fine as long as there is love for and trust in one another.
I wanted to blog this here instead of there because to me, imposing this sort of emotional burden on a kid is nothing short of abuse. I've no doubt one or two of them will read this, but it's their choice. If I did this over there, it has the potential not to be. If any of them cared enough to read this and comment here, I would take that as a pretty good guage of whether they feel I'm a pain the arse or if, indeed, they place any value on what we've done together over the last 6 months.
For those who needed a reason why I'm there at all, this is it.
For those who need to know what I do there, well, I converse. We talk about music, books, poetry, people, politics, history, blogs and the internet. They send me their music and they listen to mine. We share ideas and we laugh together. Sometimes, I listen to them when they need someone to listen to them or even just to know that someone is there who will listen to them if they ever need to talk.
I blogged this here because although I trust them enough to treat this sensibly, the idea they might take my happiness on as some sort of personal responsibility doesn't sit well with me - and there is more than one who might very well feel that way. That's not what I want. I'm pretty happy just as I am. I don't need any sort of moral support right now. I just wanted to say this because it's important to me to properly identify what I'm feeling - both about this upcoming anniversary of Christopher's death - and my interaction with all of them and how or if the two are related and what that relationship might be.
Maybe not doing this sooner is what has contributed to my making contact with the kids on the other side at all. Again I don't know, although I do suspect that's probably very likely. I can't stress enough how important it is to properly and honestly identify our emotions and deal with them openly and honestly and if that means keeping a diary or blogging, then that's what it means.
When Christopher died, I had an emotional breakdown which was probably a major contributing factor to my last heart attack. Put simply, I stopped wanting to live. I knew that much and it didn't need any further identification than that. But now I do want to live and today, with so much angst being generated because of the date and the anniversary it represents, I'm moved to deal with these feelings I've been carrying for 6 long years. I'll probably blog something similar next week, but the next big bit of writing I will be doing will be on Thursday when I put out the next edition of The Swamp, which will be another Worst Business Practice Award - the 8th WBP since I started them in 2001.
Feel free to comment but be warned now, I won't be happy if any stupid platitudes appear hereunder and I may choose to either ignore or retaliate. It'll depend on the weather.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
To: Undisclosed Recipients. Subject: Notification of Consolation Prize Winning...
From: powerball_lottery_937@msn.com
lol...
POWERBALL LOTTO. BV
POWERBALL-WHEEL E-GAME 2006
Dear Consolation Prize Winner,
NOTICE OF CONSOLATION PRIZE WINNING
This email confirms that you have been notified of by the POWERBALL INTER LOTTO BV The Netherlands of your email lottery winning for 2005 Powerball Lotto - Wheel E-game held on 22th December 2005.
We wish to congratulate you on the selection of your email coupon number which was selected among the 45 lucky consolation prize winners. Your email ID identified with Coupon No.PBL2348974321 and was selected by Electronic Random Selection System (ERSS) with entries from the 50,000 different email addresses enrolled for the Lotto-Wheel E-game. Your email ID included among the 50,000 different email addresses where submitted by our partner international email provider companies.
Prize Ref No.: PBL/CN/6654/CP
Lottery Group: Consolation Prize Group
Prize Amount: US $500,000 Five Hundred Thousand Dollars Only
You are required to file claims for your lottery prize winning by contacting the Lottery Claims Processing Officer with your winning information provided above.
Lottery Claims Officer:
Name: Mr.David Richmond
Email: david_richmond@myway.com
Tel: 0031616064746 or +31616064746
Fax: 0031620579576 or +31620579576
Congratulations once again from all our staffs on your consolation prize winning, we hope you will partake in our forth coming Powerball Lotto-Wheel Email-games.
Yours truly,
Mrs.Brijet Phillip,
(Lottery Coordinator)
How tempted am I to ring these people up and just abuse the shit out of them?
Pretty fucking tempted.
lol...
POWERBALL LOTTO. BV
POWERBALL-WHEEL E-GAME 2006
Dear Consolation Prize Winner,
NOTICE OF CONSOLATION PRIZE WINNING
This email confirms that you have been notified of by the POWERBALL INTER LOTTO BV The Netherlands of your email lottery winning for 2005 Powerball Lotto - Wheel E-game held on 22th December 2005.
We wish to congratulate you on the selection of your email coupon number which was selected among the 45 lucky consolation prize winners. Your email ID identified with Coupon No.PBL2348974321 and was selected by Electronic Random Selection System (ERSS) with entries from the 50,000 different email addresses enrolled for the Lotto-Wheel E-game. Your email ID included among the 50,000 different email addresses where submitted by our partner international email provider companies.
Prize Ref No.: PBL/CN/6654/CP
Lottery Group: Consolation Prize Group
Prize Amount: US $500,000 Five Hundred Thousand Dollars Only
You are required to file claims for your lottery prize winning by contacting the Lottery Claims Processing Officer with your winning information provided above.
Lottery Claims Officer:
Name: Mr.David Richmond
Email: david_richmond@myway.com
Tel: 0031616064746 or +31616064746
Fax: 0031620579576 or +31620579576
Congratulations once again from all our staffs on your consolation prize winning, we hope you will partake in our forth coming Powerball Lotto-Wheel Email-games.
Yours truly,
Mrs.Brijet Phillip,
(Lottery Coordinator)
How tempted am I to ring these people up and just abuse the shit out of them?
Pretty fucking tempted.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Phew it's hot.
Tomorrow, Sunday, Melbourne will have the rather dubious honour to be the hottest state capital in Australia.
I mean, Melbourne is always hot for the right reasons. Tomorrow it's just plain hot. 43 Celcius - about 107 American.
The media would have us get all panicked and unsteady about Bird Flu H5N1 looking 1337 but meaning nothing. People die in heat like that. Hospital emergency rooms flood with sunburn victims and heat stroke victims and all sorts of other nasty ailments generally caused by remaining too long in an oven.
I'm talking hot.
The roads are going to melt. It's fry an egg on the roof of the car type weather. It's power grid shut-down due to the massive employment of air conditioners that's going to happen.
I remember going to the movies last time it was that hot. Even in the cinema it was hot and uncomfortable. It wasn't 43 but when you can't get up to find a breeze anywhere, who cares how hot it is or isn't. It's just blurtishly hot.
Why Melbourne of all places in this vast country?
We're southern, we're not supposed to get the sort of weather they usually get in Alice Springs - which deserves it. 40+ degree heat in Alice Springs is nature's way of telling people they shouldn't be living there in the first place. But Melbourne is beach front property. It's half way between the equator and the south pole. It's just not supposed to get that bloody hot.
Adelaide made the news today for having just endured its hottest spell for 65 years. They're in for another torrid day tomorrow with the mercury set to reach 40. Not as hot as us - and they're closer to the equator than we are.
Wtf is up with that?
I don't have to work tomorrow. There's no air conditioning there either. We sort of rely on a door open at the back to let the breeze through. It does work, but when that breeze is hot enough to roast a chicken, as it will be tomorrow, who in their right minds would subject themselves to it for something as intrinsically worthless as money?
I don't think I would work tomorrow if I turned up anyway. I don't think I'd work at all if I set foot outside the front door and into the unsanitised atmosphere, devoid of its murderous heat. If the power goes off tomorrow, I'm running a bath. A cold bath. I'll take a notepad and pens in with me and forget there's an inside out oven outside the walls and pen something poignant.
Something like "The swans drifted by the moss covered rocks at the side of the pond. They looked serene and unaffected. They wouldn't change for a while yet, they'd been boiled alive in the pond and hadn't yet begun to decay. Autoclaved swans tend to hold their form for 3 or 4 days. Did I mention it was hot? Fucking hot."
On a map of Australia, tomorrow at least, Tasmania looks like a very attractive place. In all honesty it is - except for those two headed people who live there. I liked Hitchhiker's Guide, but 300,000 real life Zaphods aren't exactly high on my list of things to see before I die.
If it weren't for the fact half the population of Melbourne would be out walking their stupid pets until 3 in the morning tonight, it would be an absolutely marvellous thing to walk around the darkened streets stark bollock naked. Or just to be outside and unclad. This weather is too hot even for mozzies. They all found refreshingly cool bits of water in which to lay their eggs, stayed too long and burned to death like lobsters in restaurant pots. Good.
I'd really do that... be outside starkers, but there are enough people already who think I'm weird and dangerous enough online without having half a suburb telling everyone else I'm a crazed freak irl as well. (Besides which, I have views about my views. There are some things I don't share with just anyone.)
When Andrew from Canada was here, he was planting trees. The news today advised that half of the eastern areas of Victoria have burned out in a bushfire or three. Probably started by the thunderstorms that went through yesterday, but it wouldn't surprise me if those trees just spontaneously combusted. And it's going to be 10 degrees hotter tomorrow than it was today and today bordered on the unbearable.
I hope he's not still stuck in some desert shithole in South Australia. I mean, this heat is killer heat. I'm serious, people die in that kind of heat if they don't take measures to protect themselves from it. If you're in the middle of nowhere in this country, the only way to escape the heat is to bury yourself in the sand and keep the sun off your head as best you can - and consume 48 litres of water an hour.
So much for all his good work, and that of those who are with him.
Hey Andrew, COME BACK!
Still love the kids on the other side. (Just so you know.)
I mean, Melbourne is always hot for the right reasons. Tomorrow it's just plain hot. 43 Celcius - about 107 American.
The media would have us get all panicked and unsteady about Bird Flu H5N1 looking 1337 but meaning nothing. People die in heat like that. Hospital emergency rooms flood with sunburn victims and heat stroke victims and all sorts of other nasty ailments generally caused by remaining too long in an oven.
I'm talking hot.
The roads are going to melt. It's fry an egg on the roof of the car type weather. It's power grid shut-down due to the massive employment of air conditioners that's going to happen.
I remember going to the movies last time it was that hot. Even in the cinema it was hot and uncomfortable. It wasn't 43 but when you can't get up to find a breeze anywhere, who cares how hot it is or isn't. It's just blurtishly hot.
Why Melbourne of all places in this vast country?
We're southern, we're not supposed to get the sort of weather they usually get in Alice Springs - which deserves it. 40+ degree heat in Alice Springs is nature's way of telling people they shouldn't be living there in the first place. But Melbourne is beach front property. It's half way between the equator and the south pole. It's just not supposed to get that bloody hot.
Adelaide made the news today for having just endured its hottest spell for 65 years. They're in for another torrid day tomorrow with the mercury set to reach 40. Not as hot as us - and they're closer to the equator than we are.
Wtf is up with that?
I don't have to work tomorrow. There's no air conditioning there either. We sort of rely on a door open at the back to let the breeze through. It does work, but when that breeze is hot enough to roast a chicken, as it will be tomorrow, who in their right minds would subject themselves to it for something as intrinsically worthless as money?
I don't think I would work tomorrow if I turned up anyway. I don't think I'd work at all if I set foot outside the front door and into the unsanitised atmosphere, devoid of its murderous heat. If the power goes off tomorrow, I'm running a bath. A cold bath. I'll take a notepad and pens in with me and forget there's an inside out oven outside the walls and pen something poignant.
Something like "The swans drifted by the moss covered rocks at the side of the pond. They looked serene and unaffected. They wouldn't change for a while yet, they'd been boiled alive in the pond and hadn't yet begun to decay. Autoclaved swans tend to hold their form for 3 or 4 days. Did I mention it was hot? Fucking hot."
On a map of Australia, tomorrow at least, Tasmania looks like a very attractive place. In all honesty it is - except for those two headed people who live there. I liked Hitchhiker's Guide, but 300,000 real life Zaphods aren't exactly high on my list of things to see before I die.
If it weren't for the fact half the population of Melbourne would be out walking their stupid pets until 3 in the morning tonight, it would be an absolutely marvellous thing to walk around the darkened streets stark bollock naked. Or just to be outside and unclad. This weather is too hot even for mozzies. They all found refreshingly cool bits of water in which to lay their eggs, stayed too long and burned to death like lobsters in restaurant pots. Good.
I'd really do that... be outside starkers, but there are enough people already who think I'm weird and dangerous enough online without having half a suburb telling everyone else I'm a crazed freak irl as well. (Besides which, I have views about my views. There are some things I don't share with just anyone.)
When Andrew from Canada was here, he was planting trees. The news today advised that half of the eastern areas of Victoria have burned out in a bushfire or three. Probably started by the thunderstorms that went through yesterday, but it wouldn't surprise me if those trees just spontaneously combusted. And it's going to be 10 degrees hotter tomorrow than it was today and today bordered on the unbearable.
I hope he's not still stuck in some desert shithole in South Australia. I mean, this heat is killer heat. I'm serious, people die in that kind of heat if they don't take measures to protect themselves from it. If you're in the middle of nowhere in this country, the only way to escape the heat is to bury yourself in the sand and keep the sun off your head as best you can - and consume 48 litres of water an hour.
So much for all his good work, and that of those who are with him.
Hey Andrew, COME BACK!
Still love the kids on the other side. (Just so you know.)
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The other side again
I was just having a conversation with one of the kids from the other side and it got me thinking about my 4 big heroes in life: Patch Adams, John Holt, Chris Locke and my little brother.
The first 3 all hold the same basic tenets as I have regarding human interaction. My 4th hero, my little brother, showed me life itself. He showed me strength, he showed me unconditional love and trust and he showed me how to find peace where nobody else could.
He knew he was dying and in the latter stages of his life, when most of what the rest of us take for granted became irrelevant to him, it was what was important to him that made me realise we don't get strength from anything except ourselves and the strength within is nourished or starved by our interactions with others - but only by our choice to allow that nourishment or starvation.
He wasn't just this world to me, he was a whole different world.
The first 3 all hold the same basic tenets as I have regarding human interaction. My 4th hero, my little brother, showed me life itself. He showed me strength, he showed me unconditional love and trust and he showed me how to find peace where nobody else could.
He knew he was dying and in the latter stages of his life, when most of what the rest of us take for granted became irrelevant to him, it was what was important to him that made me realise we don't get strength from anything except ourselves and the strength within is nourished or starved by our interactions with others - but only by our choice to allow that nourishment or starvation.
He wasn't just this world to me, he was a whole different world.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Oh no.
I am unwell.
I have a rotten headache, I'm going to throw up very shortly and I have to work tomorrow.
This is going to last a week and I'm going to hate planet earth for the duration.
Expect no replies.
Anywhere.
I have a rotten headache, I'm going to throw up very shortly and I have to work tomorrow.
This is going to last a week and I'm going to hate planet earth for the duration.
Expect no replies.
Anywhere.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Stupid bastards...
...are still pissing me off.
Around the corner from where I'm currently vocationally engaged, there is a Peugeot service centre. (Yes, that's how we spell that word here.)
Anyway, the apprentice is the workshop gopher. The others traipse in every couple of days or so as well, and they are without doubt the dumbest hoard of steaming social misfits who haven't been discovered by mental health professionals and locked away in some cellar somewhere.
I've told yon apprentice how much it bugs me that he's the one they pick to go and get all the lunches. He says it doesn't bother him so I just keep the conversation away from the topic that gets my blood a tad intemperate.
Filthy bullying suckholes, I'd piss in their drinks if I could get away with it but I can't, so I smile and talk nicely to them whilst thinking of all the terrible things I could do if given free reign to do so. It should, however, be noted that I'm not a violent person by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm mischievous as hell and anyone who's known me more than 5 minutes will agree.
But who is going to end this cycle of bullshit behaviour towards the young and ambitious? It's not a rite of passage, it's the personal insecurity of bullies ganging up on the defenceless and it has been exactly the same for centuries. I refuse point blank to hear any poxy argument that this sort of treatment toughens people up and makes them stronger in the long run - that's just fucking bullshit.
It wrecks a person's self esteem and turns them into nervous wrecks who then have to struggle just to get an even footing in the world. Toughens a person up - my foot. Victims of bullies way too often end up killing themselves in despair.
Is this a personal bugbear with me? After my imprisonment at Haileybury College for 5 semesters, I'm proud to say my fucking oath it's a bugbear with me. A major one at that. And what makes that place such a nightmare memory is the fact it wasn't the kids with whom I had issues there, it was the staff who were engaged in "character building" practices. Fucking dinosaurs. I'll piss on their graves if I ever see them.
It's impressive holding grudges like that for more than 20 years I think. And isn't it odd how little things evoke such powerful memories.
Around the corner from where I'm currently vocationally engaged, there is a Peugeot service centre. (Yes, that's how we spell that word here.)
Anyway, the apprentice is the workshop gopher. The others traipse in every couple of days or so as well, and they are without doubt the dumbest hoard of steaming social misfits who haven't been discovered by mental health professionals and locked away in some cellar somewhere.
I've told yon apprentice how much it bugs me that he's the one they pick to go and get all the lunches. He says it doesn't bother him so I just keep the conversation away from the topic that gets my blood a tad intemperate.
Filthy bullying suckholes, I'd piss in their drinks if I could get away with it but I can't, so I smile and talk nicely to them whilst thinking of all the terrible things I could do if given free reign to do so. It should, however, be noted that I'm not a violent person by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm mischievous as hell and anyone who's known me more than 5 minutes will agree.
But who is going to end this cycle of bullshit behaviour towards the young and ambitious? It's not a rite of passage, it's the personal insecurity of bullies ganging up on the defenceless and it has been exactly the same for centuries. I refuse point blank to hear any poxy argument that this sort of treatment toughens people up and makes them stronger in the long run - that's just fucking bullshit.
It wrecks a person's self esteem and turns them into nervous wrecks who then have to struggle just to get an even footing in the world. Toughens a person up - my foot. Victims of bullies way too often end up killing themselves in despair.
Is this a personal bugbear with me? After my imprisonment at Haileybury College for 5 semesters, I'm proud to say my fucking oath it's a bugbear with me. A major one at that. And what makes that place such a nightmare memory is the fact it wasn't the kids with whom I had issues there, it was the staff who were engaged in "character building" practices. Fucking dinosaurs. I'll piss on their graves if I ever see them.
It's impressive holding grudges like that for more than 20 years I think. And isn't it odd how little things evoke such powerful memories.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
So it's been a week already. Get over it.
Two things I have a yen to do - and that better not be a doco on the goggle box or I'm not even going to get this done for another hour...
*sigh* I'm addicted to documentaries - especially BBC or Ken Burns documentaries.
First things first, this week, a young guy did an interview with Chris Locke. It was superbly subtle (on RB's part) and if anyone reading it paid really close attention to what Chris said, it was also the quintessential guide to the philosophy of blogging. Yes, it surpasses the ability of the English language to adequately impart the wisdom of his replies.
Replies to questions which, frankly, left me cold. But anyway, I sought immediately to redress the balance by doing to RB what he did to Mr Ed. If he can do it, so the hell can I. Out of due deference though, I would actually make an all in seriousness disclaimer that RB did in fact have nothing whatsoever to do with the interview, that it was all me and my idea and it was done without his permission, approval or sanction.
It also occurred to me that if Chris was not happy about it, I would invite him sue me. This would do both of us a world of good. I'm just dying to be sued - and so is he - for things we've written, and it strikes me as eminently amusing that he might sue me for something I might write. I mean, can you imagine it?
The headlines belch forth:
Rageboy sues Australian blogger.
Colorado: Internet guru and author of Gonzo Marketing, Winning Through Worst Practices, Christopher Locke is suing an Australian blogger for using the name Rageboy in an unauthorised article, which Locke has trademarked.
Apparently a Rageboy devotee, Australian Paul Ritchie has taken the title of Locke's second book to heart and is enjoying the notoriety provided by the publication of details of the court case, which isn't doing Locke's hit ranking any harm either.
One could almost believe they cooked this up between them.
When asked by a reporter why he did it, Ritchie simply replied he wants to have a threesome with Locke and Judge Judy and this was the best way he could think of to achieve those ends.
Back to reality and something else which requires a bit of effort on my part - and that is to get some sort of humourous story going - using only the lyrics of songs as the contents of the story. I've done similar things in the past - indeed my first effort was substituting teachers' names for real things in a story I wrote for my school magazine when I was 14 years old.
I'm going to enlist the help of others for this though... my vision as far as music is concerned is fairly narrow. I get hooked on songs and listen to them over and over again instead of just letting things flow and picking up on new stuff I might like, thus broadening my music horizons. The kids have helped a bit by sending me stuff. Cartoon Heroes was a classic. I still think that song is funny as hell and more camp than a Petshop Boys anthology.
There are some other rather amusing things - amusing to me, so that automatically means they're amusing to all of you as well and if they're not, I don't care anyway - rolling around in my head like loose marbles and one of those involves the time difference between waking up and getting out of bed. I'll leave all that to your fertile imaginations.
If you have no idea of what I'm circumlocuting, my advice is to just get fucked.
See? It's more fun to be a bastard.
ChatRat
Two things I have a yen to do - and that better not be a doco on the goggle box or I'm not even going to get this done for another hour...
*sigh* I'm addicted to documentaries - especially BBC or Ken Burns documentaries.
First things first, this week, a young guy did an interview with Chris Locke. It was superbly subtle (on RB's part) and if anyone reading it paid really close attention to what Chris said, it was also the quintessential guide to the philosophy of blogging. Yes, it surpasses the ability of the English language to adequately impart the wisdom of his replies.
Replies to questions which, frankly, left me cold. But anyway, I sought immediately to redress the balance by doing to RB what he did to Mr Ed. If he can do it, so the hell can I. Out of due deference though, I would actually make an all in seriousness disclaimer that RB did in fact have nothing whatsoever to do with the interview, that it was all me and my idea and it was done without his permission, approval or sanction.
It also occurred to me that if Chris was not happy about it, I would invite him sue me. This would do both of us a world of good. I'm just dying to be sued - and so is he - for things we've written, and it strikes me as eminently amusing that he might sue me for something I might write. I mean, can you imagine it?
The headlines belch forth:
Rageboy sues Australian blogger.
Colorado: Internet guru and author of Gonzo Marketing, Winning Through Worst Practices, Christopher Locke is suing an Australian blogger for using the name Rageboy in an unauthorised article, which Locke has trademarked.
Apparently a Rageboy devotee, Australian Paul Ritchie has taken the title of Locke's second book to heart and is enjoying the notoriety provided by the publication of details of the court case, which isn't doing Locke's hit ranking any harm either.
One could almost believe they cooked this up between them.
When asked by a reporter why he did it, Ritchie simply replied he wants to have a threesome with Locke and Judge Judy and this was the best way he could think of to achieve those ends.
Back to reality and something else which requires a bit of effort on my part - and that is to get some sort of humourous story going - using only the lyrics of songs as the contents of the story. I've done similar things in the past - indeed my first effort was substituting teachers' names for real things in a story I wrote for my school magazine when I was 14 years old.
I'm going to enlist the help of others for this though... my vision as far as music is concerned is fairly narrow. I get hooked on songs and listen to them over and over again instead of just letting things flow and picking up on new stuff I might like, thus broadening my music horizons. The kids have helped a bit by sending me stuff. Cartoon Heroes was a classic. I still think that song is funny as hell and more camp than a Petshop Boys anthology.
There are some other rather amusing things - amusing to me, so that automatically means they're amusing to all of you as well and if they're not, I don't care anyway - rolling around in my head like loose marbles and one of those involves the time difference between waking up and getting out of bed. I'll leave all that to your fertile imaginations.
If you have no idea of what I'm circumlocuting, my advice is to just get fucked.
See? It's more fun to be a bastard.
ChatRat
Sunday, January 01, 2006
Sanctimonious twats of all persuasions piss me off no end.
I ditched a few of the dullest msn groups it's ever been my experience to have umm experienced. Plus one run by an irritant who has taken a dislike to me because of a spat we had in a football forum.
As everyone knows, I swear quite a bit. So does he. I left a brilliant swipe at one sanctimonious twat and dropped the f word a couple of times. My message was deleted and I was told to drop the swearing or leave the group.
I left.
Piss on him.
It's the second time I've done that to him too. Different groups but it's not going to happen again. To hell with that. I don't invite people to my place if I don't like what they say or how they behave, he's known me for 5 years, knows my temper and all that. Why invite me only to remove what I say? Fuckwit. Bye bye. Have a nice life.
A few of the kids have started leaving wraps of their 2005. I was going to do one here but, frankly, I can't be bothered.
I got another funny email from Rageboy the other day too. Funny as in funny haha. He asked my opinion of something he'd written. I told him he's asking the wrong person, that I'd crawl naked over hot coals to hear the sound of him pissing in a jam tin. His reply was that he'd go and get himself a jam tin.
lol...
I can't wait until that book is finished. I SO badly want to buy several copies and distribute them amongst a hoard of fundy imbeciles with that expression of delighted ignorance and innocence which I'm so skilled at displaying.
I wonder if Hank will in fact come to Australia now that I've made the suggestion. I sure hope he does. I have a feeling there would be much laughter coming from our meeting.
It's late again. I always leave it too late to do this updating thing. I have to get sleep for I am working tomorrow. Short day, but I still have to get up early. Bummer.
I ditched a few of the dullest msn groups it's ever been my experience to have umm experienced. Plus one run by an irritant who has taken a dislike to me because of a spat we had in a football forum.
As everyone knows, I swear quite a bit. So does he. I left a brilliant swipe at one sanctimonious twat and dropped the f word a couple of times. My message was deleted and I was told to drop the swearing or leave the group.
I left.
Piss on him.
It's the second time I've done that to him too. Different groups but it's not going to happen again. To hell with that. I don't invite people to my place if I don't like what they say or how they behave, he's known me for 5 years, knows my temper and all that. Why invite me only to remove what I say? Fuckwit. Bye bye. Have a nice life.
A few of the kids have started leaving wraps of their 2005. I was going to do one here but, frankly, I can't be bothered.
I got another funny email from Rageboy the other day too. Funny as in funny haha. He asked my opinion of something he'd written. I told him he's asking the wrong person, that I'd crawl naked over hot coals to hear the sound of him pissing in a jam tin. His reply was that he'd go and get himself a jam tin.
lol...
I can't wait until that book is finished. I SO badly want to buy several copies and distribute them amongst a hoard of fundy imbeciles with that expression of delighted ignorance and innocence which I'm so skilled at displaying.
I wonder if Hank will in fact come to Australia now that I've made the suggestion. I sure hope he does. I have a feeling there would be much laughter coming from our meeting.
It's late again. I always leave it too late to do this updating thing. I have to get sleep for I am working tomorrow. Short day, but I still have to get up early. Bummer.
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
On mixed blessings...
I finally got another edition of The Swamp out tonight.
After 4 months of neglecting my faithful Swampees, I have finally rewarded their faith with a tale of mixed blessings that constitute the unlikely events which just happen to be the reality I live on a daily basis.
I was going to put it here but thought better of it. If you're already a subscriber, you'll understand why it is better left unadorning of the world wide timetrap, in favour of the discretion of those voluptuous in boxes of those beloved subscribers where it is less likely to come back and bite me on the arse.
:)
The oddest thing about the one I've just put out is that 99% of it is absolutely true.
I feel uber. I feel like I could just keep writing until my fingers explode. What a shame it's half past midnight and I have to get up in 6 hours and go to work.
Is this yet another case of mixed blessings?
It seems that way to me.
I finally got another edition of The Swamp out tonight.
After 4 months of neglecting my faithful Swampees, I have finally rewarded their faith with a tale of mixed blessings that constitute the unlikely events which just happen to be the reality I live on a daily basis.
I was going to put it here but thought better of it. If you're already a subscriber, you'll understand why it is better left unadorning of the world wide timetrap, in favour of the discretion of those voluptuous in boxes of those beloved subscribers where it is less likely to come back and bite me on the arse.
:)
The oddest thing about the one I've just put out is that 99% of it is absolutely true.
I feel uber. I feel like I could just keep writing until my fingers explode. What a shame it's half past midnight and I have to get up in 6 hours and go to work.
Is this yet another case of mixed blessings?
It seems that way to me.
Monday, December 26, 2005
http://www.Break.com/articles/holditin2.html
The second funniest thing I've seen in my life. I would dearly love to get the mpeg of this.
In other news, mes amies have been in full flight this weekend, thereby protecting me from the abhorence of Christmas. The day was further enhanced by my putting the old Pretenders song 2000 Miles on repeat and just listening to it over and over.
I'll confess here, I got quite soft and started leaving nice messages around the internet, and I even apologised to someone for sending them a rude reply to an email they sent me in good faith.
But have no doubts on one thing: I'm still the same old Rat you all know and treat with a great deal of suspicion if not actual trepidation.
I haven't managed to do one solitary jot of actual work since September. Aren't you all terribly ashamed? I'm not. I've been busy doing other stuff that doesn't in any way advance my social standing but which still makes me feel pretty good anyway.
I have been working - rather long hours as it happens - just not on anything that is strictly for my own benefit. Slack I know, but let's face it, I'm the one who's going to suffer most because of it. The rest of you have archives and older material which I bet not one of you has bothered exploring yet.
As for the first book, although I haven't finished retyping it (I told you, I've been incredibly slack), I have given it its new dustjacket and last week I gave the beneficiary of the would-be largess to spring therefrom the link to where said largess will emanate.
Still, it's not fair that I just sit on my laurels and expect to be kept afloat by the generosity of strangers. I will get the 2nd book out and put lots of loveliness in it, mixed with some philosophical nuggets which might just give it some credibility with the denizens of stupid little plastic boxes festooning every CBD on the planet. I might actually do some research and out a few of the bigger fuckwits and perhaps land myself in court as a result. (Oh I wish.) Thank God Australian courts have no jurisdiction in California.
I had a very enjoyable and fairly lengthy discourse with RB last week. I can't remember if I gloated about that in my last entry or not, but I'm gloating about it again now anyway. I worship that man.
I have decided I need to make 3 investments: A digital camera, a scanner and a personal voice recorder - and not necessarily in that order. Why?
I'm glad I asked myself that very question on your behalf.
The camera because I want to photograph Melbourne in all its glory because no brochures or spamful websites put up the sorts of pictures that make Melbourne what it is. I wish to remedy that situation so anyone with a lazy few thousand dollars will flock to my hometown and say hi.
I want the scanner because I have photos I want to get on the internet - via Photoshop of course - to make a mockery of all things in print which would otherwise not see the oncoming headlights of the traffic on the information super highway.
I want the voice recorder for purposes of my own devising which I'm not about to divulge here, but I may publish the results from its usage at a later date. Obviously, since I don't have thing to do any transcriptions now, I have time to organise the occasion for best impact. It will involve pleasant company and getting very chemically imbalanced. Hopefully I won't kiss anyone with whom I would still wish to be on good terms the following day. (I do that sort of thing when I've been tipping the scales as it were.)
It's been a long time since I indulged in anything not sold legally to minors. This means my tolerance levels will be pretty well zero. And you know what that means, boys and girls. It's way fast and easy to get the Rat off his face. And when that happens, anything else humanly possible and undesirable is more than likely to happen afterwards. This is why I want a voice recorder thingy - to capture the glory of the moment in full surround sound stereo which can then be transcribed and flung to the ends of the earth for general consumption. It's an occasion not to be missed.
Did I happen to mention the kids again? I know I did, I just disguised with a bit of verbal dexterity more commonly known as French. I think over the course of this weekend, I've spent a cumulative total of 14 hours with them plus however much longer than that with message swapping. What a totally massive bunch of people. They and that song - for the first time in 6 years - actually made Christmas 2005 an enjoyable day for me.
I am so me I can't believe it.
The second funniest thing I've seen in my life. I would dearly love to get the mpeg of this.
In other news, mes amies have been in full flight this weekend, thereby protecting me from the abhorence of Christmas. The day was further enhanced by my putting the old Pretenders song 2000 Miles on repeat and just listening to it over and over.
I'll confess here, I got quite soft and started leaving nice messages around the internet, and I even apologised to someone for sending them a rude reply to an email they sent me in good faith.
But have no doubts on one thing: I'm still the same old Rat you all know and treat with a great deal of suspicion if not actual trepidation.
I haven't managed to do one solitary jot of actual work since September. Aren't you all terribly ashamed? I'm not. I've been busy doing other stuff that doesn't in any way advance my social standing but which still makes me feel pretty good anyway.
I have been working - rather long hours as it happens - just not on anything that is strictly for my own benefit. Slack I know, but let's face it, I'm the one who's going to suffer most because of it. The rest of you have archives and older material which I bet not one of you has bothered exploring yet.
As for the first book, although I haven't finished retyping it (I told you, I've been incredibly slack), I have given it its new dustjacket and last week I gave the beneficiary of the would-be largess to spring therefrom the link to where said largess will emanate.
Still, it's not fair that I just sit on my laurels and expect to be kept afloat by the generosity of strangers. I will get the 2nd book out and put lots of loveliness in it, mixed with some philosophical nuggets which might just give it some credibility with the denizens of stupid little plastic boxes festooning every CBD on the planet. I might actually do some research and out a few of the bigger fuckwits and perhaps land myself in court as a result. (Oh I wish.) Thank God Australian courts have no jurisdiction in California.
I had a very enjoyable and fairly lengthy discourse with RB last week. I can't remember if I gloated about that in my last entry or not, but I'm gloating about it again now anyway. I worship that man.
I have decided I need to make 3 investments: A digital camera, a scanner and a personal voice recorder - and not necessarily in that order. Why?
I'm glad I asked myself that very question on your behalf.
The camera because I want to photograph Melbourne in all its glory because no brochures or spamful websites put up the sorts of pictures that make Melbourne what it is. I wish to remedy that situation so anyone with a lazy few thousand dollars will flock to my hometown and say hi.
I want the scanner because I have photos I want to get on the internet - via Photoshop of course - to make a mockery of all things in print which would otherwise not see the oncoming headlights of the traffic on the information super highway.
I want the voice recorder for purposes of my own devising which I'm not about to divulge here, but I may publish the results from its usage at a later date. Obviously, since I don't have thing to do any transcriptions now, I have time to organise the occasion for best impact. It will involve pleasant company and getting very chemically imbalanced. Hopefully I won't kiss anyone with whom I would still wish to be on good terms the following day. (I do that sort of thing when I've been tipping the scales as it were.)
It's been a long time since I indulged in anything not sold legally to minors. This means my tolerance levels will be pretty well zero. And you know what that means, boys and girls. It's way fast and easy to get the Rat off his face. And when that happens, anything else humanly possible and undesirable is more than likely to happen afterwards. This is why I want a voice recorder thingy - to capture the glory of the moment in full surround sound stereo which can then be transcribed and flung to the ends of the earth for general consumption. It's an occasion not to be missed.
Did I happen to mention the kids again? I know I did, I just disguised with a bit of verbal dexterity more commonly known as French. I think over the course of this weekend, I've spent a cumulative total of 14 hours with them plus however much longer than that with message swapping. What a totally massive bunch of people. They and that song - for the first time in 6 years - actually made Christmas 2005 an enjoyable day for me.
I am so me I can't believe it.
Monday, December 19, 2005
I got an email...
Oh the possibilities!
I'm sometimes drawn on whether I get enough spam or not. Some of it can be fairly entertaining and let's face it, with a few clicks it's all gone. Inboxes are fucking enormous so it's not likely any one of mine will ever fill up unless people start sending me massive attachments, which a lot of the time I won't even bother downloading. I'm on dial-up for two reasons: It's dirt cheap and there is only so much I want to do when I'm on the net and downloading shitloads of other people's stuff isn't one of them.
On the other hand, none of the spam I get is of a questionable sexual nature - none of it is of a sexual nature at all if you don't count viagra spam. Most of it emanates from Russia because of some online wargame thing to which one of the kids got me to sub up. The rest is spamming me about dodgy Rolex watches and other shit.
But as I said, clickery gone, no biggy.
One of the other kids had the most extraordinarily kind thing to say...
Mad props to the Rat. We're lucky to have you around.
Oh my brother. Would that he were here to say the same thing.
I got one of the other kids to admit to something too. It was like drawing teeth but it had to be done for his sake. It's part of dismantling some unhealthy and unhelpful trains of thought. I hope he feels much better for it, but self esteem is a hard bugger to rebuild when it's been dealt so many blows. Then again, I enjoy spending 5 hours in one sitting talking to any and all of them anyway so I guess the privilege was all mine. If you're reading this, Chris, I meant what you said and if it weren't for the bloody time difference between here and Texas, I'd spend more than 5 hours with you.
The one kid about whom I'm most concerned hasn't been around for a couple of weeks. If I had to pick just one of the kids to hug, it would be her. She needs it so desperately. I hope she's ok, but I have a growing idea she may be in hospital and I have no way of finding out. I suppose if I trawled the net long enough I might pick up some clues, but that just feels wrong on too many levels - especially on account of her being unable to trust anyone. She might take it the wrong way. She might also leap to some incorrect conclusions and that would be disastrous.
Tart's got a new picture. God, she's a beautiful woman. She makes me proud to know her. By pure coincidence, she got our relationship worked out just right first go without any prompting from me - and unlike that fuckwit, dopey, she's earned the right to consider me her net-brother and doesn't mind that I consider her my net-sister.
When dopey sent me an email telling me she considered me like her little brother, my gag reflex almost killed me. It was about that time I told her unequivocally to fuck off. It took her weeks to realise I meant it.
She left a message for Bong in Philochat2 this morning too. So I made Bong a manager so he can delete the message or delete the comm - whatever he wants. I can't be bothered talking to him anymore. There's no point when he's not stable, can't make head nor tail of what he's saying when Veil has convinced him not to take his meds, and frankly, I just couldn't be bothered taking the chance. Nor do I give a cusper's about Philochat2 so if he wipes it, too bad.
Some interesting developments in the MB story but I'm bidden not to reveal them by the author. Personally. Woo! The MB is a link by the way and it should have clickage upon it. Failing the interloping of any other book which might happen to pass under my nose and beckon my purchase, MB will be my next book purchase. I can't think of a time I was more excited about the production of a book like this - not even my own. Without exaggerating, to me, it's stand on the chair and cheer like they do in corny B grade college movies material. It's flipping one massive bird at everyone who ever harboured some hokey notions about herbal remedies and ancient recipes for happiness and wealth etc. I love Chris Locke and everything he says. I only wish I could write as well as he does. Maybe some day I'll apply myself to the task of producing something wicked. Until then, I'll just be satisfied pumping the air like an idiot every time I turn the pages of his books.
My playlist is the most inspiring lump of music in the universe. The drumming in the OMD song "Maid of Orleans" is phenomenal. Seriously. If I could fly, that's what I'd listen to while doing it. Maybe I'll come back as a hawk in the next life. I should be so lucky.
No matter, really. When I have those kids on the other side saying things like Mad props to the Rat, I don't even feel like I need to eat to stay alive - which is fortunate really, because eating is a nuisance and I fairly frequently forget to do it until it's too late at night to bother. Speaking of which, it's 1.34am here in beautiful Melbourne and I have to get up and go to work in 5 hours.
Plans are afoot to make some extra dosh between Christmas and New Year though, so we'll just see how it all pans out. After New Year, George has plans of his own which might just make all things more comfortable in Casa Highett. More on that later, but for now, it's bed time.
Toodle pip.
Oh the possibilities!
I'm sometimes drawn on whether I get enough spam or not. Some of it can be fairly entertaining and let's face it, with a few clicks it's all gone. Inboxes are fucking enormous so it's not likely any one of mine will ever fill up unless people start sending me massive attachments, which a lot of the time I won't even bother downloading. I'm on dial-up for two reasons: It's dirt cheap and there is only so much I want to do when I'm on the net and downloading shitloads of other people's stuff isn't one of them.
On the other hand, none of the spam I get is of a questionable sexual nature - none of it is of a sexual nature at all if you don't count viagra spam. Most of it emanates from Russia because of some online wargame thing to which one of the kids got me to sub up. The rest is spamming me about dodgy Rolex watches and other shit.
But as I said, clickery gone, no biggy.
One of the other kids had the most extraordinarily kind thing to say...
Mad props to the Rat. We're lucky to have you around.
Oh my brother. Would that he were here to say the same thing.
I got one of the other kids to admit to something too. It was like drawing teeth but it had to be done for his sake. It's part of dismantling some unhealthy and unhelpful trains of thought. I hope he feels much better for it, but self esteem is a hard bugger to rebuild when it's been dealt so many blows. Then again, I enjoy spending 5 hours in one sitting talking to any and all of them anyway so I guess the privilege was all mine. If you're reading this, Chris, I meant what you said and if it weren't for the bloody time difference between here and Texas, I'd spend more than 5 hours with you.
The one kid about whom I'm most concerned hasn't been around for a couple of weeks. If I had to pick just one of the kids to hug, it would be her. She needs it so desperately. I hope she's ok, but I have a growing idea she may be in hospital and I have no way of finding out. I suppose if I trawled the net long enough I might pick up some clues, but that just feels wrong on too many levels - especially on account of her being unable to trust anyone. She might take it the wrong way. She might also leap to some incorrect conclusions and that would be disastrous.
Tart's got a new picture. God, she's a beautiful woman. She makes me proud to know her. By pure coincidence, she got our relationship worked out just right first go without any prompting from me - and unlike that fuckwit, dopey, she's earned the right to consider me her net-brother and doesn't mind that I consider her my net-sister.
When dopey sent me an email telling me she considered me like her little brother, my gag reflex almost killed me. It was about that time I told her unequivocally to fuck off. It took her weeks to realise I meant it.
She left a message for Bong in Philochat2 this morning too. So I made Bong a manager so he can delete the message or delete the comm - whatever he wants. I can't be bothered talking to him anymore. There's no point when he's not stable, can't make head nor tail of what he's saying when Veil has convinced him not to take his meds, and frankly, I just couldn't be bothered taking the chance. Nor do I give a cusper's about Philochat2 so if he wipes it, too bad.
Some interesting developments in the MB story but I'm bidden not to reveal them by the author. Personally. Woo! The MB is a link by the way and it should have clickage upon it. Failing the interloping of any other book which might happen to pass under my nose and beckon my purchase, MB will be my next book purchase. I can't think of a time I was more excited about the production of a book like this - not even my own. Without exaggerating, to me, it's stand on the chair and cheer like they do in corny B grade college movies material. It's flipping one massive bird at everyone who ever harboured some hokey notions about herbal remedies and ancient recipes for happiness and wealth etc. I love Chris Locke and everything he says. I only wish I could write as well as he does. Maybe some day I'll apply myself to the task of producing something wicked. Until then, I'll just be satisfied pumping the air like an idiot every time I turn the pages of his books.
My playlist is the most inspiring lump of music in the universe. The drumming in the OMD song "Maid of Orleans" is phenomenal. Seriously. If I could fly, that's what I'd listen to while doing it. Maybe I'll come back as a hawk in the next life. I should be so lucky.
No matter, really. When I have those kids on the other side saying things like Mad props to the Rat, I don't even feel like I need to eat to stay alive - which is fortunate really, because eating is a nuisance and I fairly frequently forget to do it until it's too late at night to bother. Speaking of which, it's 1.34am here in beautiful Melbourne and I have to get up and go to work in 5 hours.
Plans are afoot to make some extra dosh between Christmas and New Year though, so we'll just see how it all pans out. After New Year, George has plans of his own which might just make all things more comfortable in Casa Highett. More on that later, but for now, it's bed time.
Toodle pip.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Continuation of that bit I threw up in PA this week, I'm going to kill my subscription to Oxfam. Getting that picture in the mail was the end of it for me. Really.
I don't know how I could have been more specific when I said I don't want to know anything at all about the people I sponsored. I just didn't and don't want to know. I can't explain it, but it's more than I can handle.
Fuckers.
I'm getting very emotional about this. I did NOT want ANYTHING at all to do with anything or anyone to whom I was making this anonymous donation. What do I get instead? A shitload of... shit. It's just shit. Gratitude is shit.
It fucking sucks. Charity sucks. I knew it when I signed on, but to have it come back and bite me on the arse like this - and pay for the damn privilege? Fuck that.
All I wanted was to help a poor Cambodian family, completely anonymously and relieve them of any need to feel gratitude (guilt, basically) for putting up their hands asking for help then actually getting it. The idea is to make the most of what you get with no thought for anything but your own future. That's about the best gift I can give and that's of what I was thinking when I started my subscription.
What the fuck are these people on anyway? Oxfam, I mean. Can you tell I'm a bit fucked off right now? How dare they fuck up my gift. Maybe not for whomever is on the receiving end, but my trust in Oxfam has been royally fucked in the arse. I know it's just a procedural thing to send these stinking updates to keep it all warm and fuzzy and make the donors think what they're doing is so wonderfully worthwhile.
I'm sure it is, but what does that make me? Just another name on some mailing list somewhere.
Now I want to run and hide away from these felching scumbags so they never find me again, never send me their stupid begging letters and load me up with guilt for something I haven't done.
My kids on the other side mean more to me than anyone else right now. I keep going on about them, but only because I love them all so much. Am I grateful for the time they accord me? In a way, yes. I'm probably more proud than grateful. I'm certainly amazed they let me in there. It's a fairly tight little circle but they're so incredibly acceptant and generous with their time and themselves. I consider myself very lucky to have encountered them.
It's what they give me which has the big impact. They give me the opportunity to share myself with them and they allow me the opportunity to share their day to day lives as well. It's extremely selfish of me to even be there, I know that. I have the unfair advantage of 20 years worth of experience which they do not yet have. I'm aware of that - always. On the other hand, because I consider them equals - which is to say, as human beings - and I won't behave condescendingly towards them because condescension is right up there with the most despicable things adults do to kids, that not only can I share with them and they with me, but at times I have the opportunity to share the benefits of the experience I have which they do not.
They actually let me care about them. That's incalculable to me. I know I sound like a broken record for saying it yet again, but how I can I compare anything I have with the gift those kids continue to give me?
Gratitude? Fuck gratitude. How about respect, how about trust, and, for what it's worth, not just a modicum of affection. Yes, that's why I love them all so much.
I don't know how I could have been more specific when I said I don't want to know anything at all about the people I sponsored. I just didn't and don't want to know. I can't explain it, but it's more than I can handle.
Fuckers.
I'm getting very emotional about this. I did NOT want ANYTHING at all to do with anything or anyone to whom I was making this anonymous donation. What do I get instead? A shitload of... shit. It's just shit. Gratitude is shit.
It fucking sucks. Charity sucks. I knew it when I signed on, but to have it come back and bite me on the arse like this - and pay for the damn privilege? Fuck that.
All I wanted was to help a poor Cambodian family, completely anonymously and relieve them of any need to feel gratitude (guilt, basically) for putting up their hands asking for help then actually getting it. The idea is to make the most of what you get with no thought for anything but your own future. That's about the best gift I can give and that's of what I was thinking when I started my subscription.
What the fuck are these people on anyway? Oxfam, I mean. Can you tell I'm a bit fucked off right now? How dare they fuck up my gift. Maybe not for whomever is on the receiving end, but my trust in Oxfam has been royally fucked in the arse. I know it's just a procedural thing to send these stinking updates to keep it all warm and fuzzy and make the donors think what they're doing is so wonderfully worthwhile.
I'm sure it is, but what does that make me? Just another name on some mailing list somewhere.
Now I want to run and hide away from these felching scumbags so they never find me again, never send me their stupid begging letters and load me up with guilt for something I haven't done.
My kids on the other side mean more to me than anyone else right now. I keep going on about them, but only because I love them all so much. Am I grateful for the time they accord me? In a way, yes. I'm probably more proud than grateful. I'm certainly amazed they let me in there. It's a fairly tight little circle but they're so incredibly acceptant and generous with their time and themselves. I consider myself very lucky to have encountered them.
It's what they give me which has the big impact. They give me the opportunity to share myself with them and they allow me the opportunity to share their day to day lives as well. It's extremely selfish of me to even be there, I know that. I have the unfair advantage of 20 years worth of experience which they do not yet have. I'm aware of that - always. On the other hand, because I consider them equals - which is to say, as human beings - and I won't behave condescendingly towards them because condescension is right up there with the most despicable things adults do to kids, that not only can I share with them and they with me, but at times I have the opportunity to share the benefits of the experience I have which they do not.
They actually let me care about them. That's incalculable to me. I know I sound like a broken record for saying it yet again, but how I can I compare anything I have with the gift those kids continue to give me?
Gratitude? Fuck gratitude. How about respect, how about trust, and, for what it's worth, not just a modicum of affection. Yes, that's why I love them all so much.
Friday, December 02, 2005
I did a terrible thing on the train on the way home from work tonight.
Terrible or typical? You be the judge.
Melbourne has a free daily newspaper called MX. In it is a puzzle page which contains a few word game thingies and a crossword - amongst other stuff I tend to ignore.
Anyway, a fat bastard had his backpack on the seat next to him instead of on the floor, thus he was depriving one of those forced to stand of a seat on the train.
Enter the Rat.
Rat spots fat bastard reading the puzzle page. Rat further spots fat bastard having copious quantities of difficulty with the crossword.
Rat is a wordsmith with an enviable vocabulary and usually finishes the crossword in 15 minutes.
Rat also has a copy of MX. Rat stands close to fat bastard, close enough to allow fat bastard to hear Rat's stomach grumble. Rat ostensibly ignores fat bastard.
Rat turns to the puzzle page, pulls his pen from his backpack and reads 3 across: Make eyes at, 4 letters. Except Rat reads aloud, and announces the answer as OGLE, 4 down: Dirt, 5 letters. Hmm, "Grime" says Rat, aloud.
"9 across: Liquid measure, 4 letters. Oh, pint!" says Rat.
Fat bastard gets off train at the next stop and goes to the next carriage down.
Rat and one other person sit.
Rat turns to fellow seated person and says, "Well that was easy!"
God, I love being me.
Terrible or typical? You be the judge.
Melbourne has a free daily newspaper called MX. In it is a puzzle page which contains a few word game thingies and a crossword - amongst other stuff I tend to ignore.
Anyway, a fat bastard had his backpack on the seat next to him instead of on the floor, thus he was depriving one of those forced to stand of a seat on the train.
Enter the Rat.
Rat spots fat bastard reading the puzzle page. Rat further spots fat bastard having copious quantities of difficulty with the crossword.
Rat is a wordsmith with an enviable vocabulary and usually finishes the crossword in 15 minutes.
Rat also has a copy of MX. Rat stands close to fat bastard, close enough to allow fat bastard to hear Rat's stomach grumble. Rat ostensibly ignores fat bastard.
Rat turns to the puzzle page, pulls his pen from his backpack and reads 3 across: Make eyes at, 4 letters. Except Rat reads aloud, and announces the answer as OGLE, 4 down: Dirt, 5 letters. Hmm, "Grime" says Rat, aloud.
"9 across: Liquid measure, 4 letters. Oh, pint!" says Rat.
Fat bastard gets off train at the next stop and goes to the next carriage down.
Rat and one other person sit.
Rat turns to fellow seated person and says, "Well that was easy!"
God, I love being me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
