Metamorphose

32

2009-07-01T00:03:00.001+10:00

Drinking the last remnants of a great bottle of scotch Rob gave to me on my 30th, I manage to capture a documentary of Bellini.

I cast a weary eye on my arm ... Happy New Year.

Cheers all

ps. I didn't win the 90 million.

Lazy that is I

2008-08-24T05:15:00.006+10:00

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For the first time in a long time I stood still. A stream that turned into an ocean that found its sand to break on. I've seated myself down and the tidal wave recedes. With music in ones ear. I write.

I've run out of music of late. My daily car drives to and from the grind has fulfilled a good remainder of new music needs(and I don't mean any of that brit-pop gems some people worship). I toll over older catalogues and randomly choose Carnavas and it is only until lucky number number seven reveals its head that the spiral occurs.

I hope this can remain the next beginning of change, out of our cocoon like state, that we swirm our way out of. Or should we say I?

Once a week should be a very good start.

Clean Execution?

Zeitgeist

2008-06-14T02:23:00.003+10:00

I was sitting with a friend a year and a half ago drinking enough whiskey to make me forget in the morning of what we were actually talking about the night before.

It was this - Zeitgeist.

If you have two hours to spare and want to educate and make up your own mind at the end. Then go ahead and watch. I won't bore you with the details and arguments that I went into that very night with my good friend - but I will tell you that the whiskey was single malt and we had plenty of ice.

I did come to the conclusion that if the Sun represented heaven then Pluto must be hell.

Anyhow - as I said - 2 hours spare and watch this;

Zeitgeist: The Movie (press play)

Oh and thanks Mike for making my brain remember it all again.

Back on the scene

2008-05-14T23:21:00.008+10:00

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I've found that if you neglect to do certain things, you eventually forget about them, and it is only a small memory of yesteryear or a reminder that makes you realize that one does need to act. Of this, I feel sometimes I need a personal organizer or to remember that laziness is still one of my stronger traits.

Acting on impulse, I drove home only to remember that an old basketball mate, Steve, was playing tonight at my local basketball stadium, where I spent a good 10+ years organizing friends to play basketball. As I come and go in their lives I have seen them get married, have numerous children, become a support to their ear and a friend which has been a privilege.

On coming home Steve's wife had already sent me an email (fate one would say?) reminding me of the starting time he was playing tonight. Feeling this to be a good sign to pull on some jeans and head on down to the courts to watch some old school community basketball.

As I walked into the courts I was greeted with the familiar smell of sweat and squeaking of rubber soles, along with the beeps and buzzes which came from the rickety scoreboard that each team member helped man on the sides of the courts. I smiled seeing kids I used to play against now grown men, and older men I used to size up still playing along and looking still as mean, although wearing the occasional strap or support on a joint.

I forgot about the joy I got from walking into this place and the value it has placed in my life along with the random connections of not only my basketball friends but other friends who have trodden the floors to a different kind of beat. My introduction to the rave scene (Al to click here) was in this place at 4am returning home on New Years Day circa 1996 - later finding out in life that some of people dancing were experiencing the same thing and have now become life long friends (even though finding out Dyewitness never actually played there that night - it still opened my eyes up).

Ray was still behind the counter met me with a smile and a
"You're back? Who you playing with?" and my reply with a smile and a shake of the head "I'm here to see Steve actually."
Finding out from her he was playing on court 2 and remembering at the same time that her real name was Lily and she hated people calling her that. I'll tease her late.

As I trundled over getting the occasional pat on the back and smile from people I have not seen for near well over 7 years brought a beaming smile back at them. With a customary slap of the hand or touch of fist, which I always felt very uncool doing and seemed to usually miss or manage to screw up somehow, it felt like old times again. Yet I had hit my thirties and have piled on a solid 15 more kilos and felt as mobile as the Energizer bunny's Grey counterparts.

Seeing Steve and finding out all the gossip made me smile, and even made me want to shoot hoops again. I felt nervous as the orange globe now looked foreign. Sinking the first bucket made me realize that I still had a gram left of grace, shortly lived when Steve was saying 'I bet you can still dunk it too.' Only to have me miss the ring completed and sail underneath the backboard with my calves burning in the pain.

"We're short a man."
"Some things never change." I reply to Steve, knowing that it became a regular occurrence in community basketball competitions.
"Here's some shorts.. lets get you geared up."
"You what...." my outcry and surprise that the next 40 minutes would have me running, of which I also have not done for well over two years, outside of intoxication.

The next 40 minutes was one of the most painful discoveries to my body. The shoes I'm wearing are at no time appropriate or helpful and muscles forgotten about were dancing the joy of spasm. We won though, I scored zip however as per usual guarded the key like a viking warrior and actually rebounded most of the game (Hurray me!). Please note that running the full length of the court was very infrequent.

I'm now registered and in a team and set to play next Wednesday. Although my body is not overly impressed with this rash decision. I was grateful though, as many people know that I have only the height which helped me exert defence in basketball. The remainder I needed most of all in basketball (mainly bouncing the ball in a co-ordinated manner) lacked.

Visiting places and seeing old friends is not a burden as it seems. Encountering the bizarre chain of events that may happen while doing so is all part of the process. Although it seemed like a spur of the moment thing to do - it reminded me how privileged I have been.

As Steve put it too me and I wholeheartedly agreed with him as I stood outside his house.
'....we're all lucky to be here and sometimes people just don't see it, like when they're at work complaining about [trivial] things. I try and remind them....'

As he said this - it blew a chord with my mentality of late. As I listened to what I have missed out in his life and family it made me humble and appreciate that the old friends and scenes should always be remembered and that stretching should be mandatory while exerting your body to unprecedented levels of exercise.

The room, the sun and the sky

2008-03-12T02:23:00.006+11:00

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It’s the look in the eye which you catch and moments later the small rise of a smile from the crevasse of the lips. It’s the music which plays in your head and the people around that remain out of focus.

Does time stop or does your heart?

You both look away as you realize you are now staring and the eyes are drawn back to each other, the smiles increase. Wiping dew from one palm which has suddenly formed as you glance to the floor smiling and once again refocus. Your friends around you become uninteresting and inaudible.

Is it lightning that has just struck or the four leaf clover you picked up as a child?

The moment cannot be lost, the distance traveled looks to be a mile and hopefully without a hurdle to trip you up. The cotton in your mouth is quickly washed away and you suddenly realize that you are now standing in front of each other. Slight nods of acknowledgment to each other as you sway together with the music which works its hopeful infinite pattern.

Do we need words to destroy this instance or remain lost with each other for a little longer?

The attraction is no more of a measure as the realization of something else is now even more powerful between you both. A hand reaches up to touch your elbow followed by a broadening of lips. Connection with skin on skin has made you both inseparable. Equally shackled in your own conscious time with each other.

Is this the moment you’ve been waiting all your life or are we dreaming?

Perfecting the Ginga Mo

2007-10-25T13:03:00.000+10:00

So I joined up with my mate Goran to undertake Movember. Suffice to say my attempts on growing hair on my face has been at a loss I will endeavour to use growth hormones to help with said result.

If you feel like being charitable then click on the badge and support this very worthy cause - www.movember.com

ps. end result picture will be posted!

Darkness

2007-09-21T02:06:00.001+10:00

Educate yourself with 70 minutes of worthwhile footage.

Click me -> Loose Change - Part 2

A postscript with my 2 cents. It saddens me to see anything happen to our world and makes me feel less as a human to see individuals destroy things around us day by day.

Whoever is to blame is not the reason, the real question we all should be trying to answer day by day is why and finding the common solution.

We will never know the full story to many stories which face us, because we are unfortunately a majority cannon fodder and not necessary to the grand scheme of things.

I know for certain if I was a god fearing individual and believed in heaven and hell. That the persons responsibility for the atrocities which are committed every day in our lives, while we sit blindfolded in front of the brainwashing machine, will see their final judgment and feel the pain and anguish they have caused for all of the seconds within their eternity of which their heartless soul will exist.

Unfortunately I'm a realist and my eyes just fill with tears.

Another return to Minto

2007-08-14T21:38:00.000+10:00

South West Sydney mmmmm ... My Mum and Dad had a plot of land when we use to live in Merrylands until I was about 10. Then they decided to build on it in 1988... little did I know what Minto (Minno) was like.

Growing up and attending Sarah Redfern it was an eye opener to see government housing projects left forgotten and the word 'pension' was what I thought old people used. I quickly found out not to talk back to certain people in my class or I'd receive some sort of bloody face, so my choice of friends were wise and somewhat neutral.

Traveling into Minno Mall and learning the streets on a bike when I was young made me appreciate many things, that I had got a little easier when my Mum and Dad worked.

Hitting the late teens and getting into under age clubs - such as Cheers and Chevy's was easy then, bouncers didn't blink an eye too much if you had someone else's ID who looked completed different. Ending up drunk of Southo or Jimmy was way too regular occurrence and the police were lax but terse when you stepped out of line.

I moved over to London eventually when I was 24 and just recently returned. They've torned down most of the govt housing, relocated families and built middle class housing around the now hardly used Minto Mal (KMART has even packed up and left)l. I remember walking passed the BMX track, acres of scrub where I learnt how to fire a slingshot and corner shops near the train station which never seem to open, even the old graffiti seems to be losing its color on the armor guard sidings. They've put an over-pass over all the rail lines and the distant dinging of bells is all a somewhat dream you once heard as the freight train steamed through at 2am each morning to remind you where you were. Shopping trolley graveyards are somewhat a memory also since the stores decided to make magnetic locks on the wheels.

Minto was a place to be growing up in the 90's. The echo of 'Push Minno' was familiar at league games and school sports, I discovered traditional Koori ways which I'm sure would never have got the chance in any other suburb and my respect is far greater then some stigma attach cultures in Sydney, many people who I thought would not have made it after high school have proved me wrong (the lower bell curve of the HSC results my ass).

I resorted to forgetting Minno between 20-24 when I moved out of home to Northern Sydney and to tell you the truth, nothing happened when you walked along the street up there.

In Minto when I was young I remember seeing an old man pick up cigarette butts at the bus stop every day while I was going to school, Single mothers, bare foot, pregnant again and pushing prams in Lycra was somewhat a usual sight. People didn't really care too much, except about the price of cigarettes going up again.

Nowadays coming back from London - I love being out here, it's just a pain to get into the city - which I easily forget about when I start driving in there.

Today's Minto is a suburbia - I miss the old Minno pride - but I relish the fact when I walk passed someone who I haven't seen in a long time. The one thing remained and made me smile. Since I was 11 I walked down the hill and passed a rival primary school to Sarah Redfern, I passed a lady who was the Lollypop Lady. Seeing her 20 years returning from London, greyer but still the same pink tracksuit made me smile from ear to ear - this time I stopped to say hello and told her my little story of passing her every day - I think I gave some of my youth to her that day.

To Minno!

Empty

2007-06-26T18:37:00.000+10:00

With over a month of infrequent behaviour as I returned to Australia I have found myself in a evolving cycle of routine – which doesn’t leave me with a lot of creativity.

G told me to write about Vitamins and I think she actually jinxed me in regards – the idea into my relationship with Vitamins in the past has left me with a gapping hole of blackness within my brain.

So I just view an empty page most nights to write and then throw my stuffed unicorn in the corner and walk off. So in all my love affair with this site – I seem to have come to a near halting stop until I find something to release me from this hold.

I have a lot of things to write about – but nothing to start the engine running, so to speak. My mobile is jammed packed full of useless little notes which are beginning to blur into – ‘What the hell does this mean?’

So in short I leave you with some emptiness.

Thank you.

Scrawling a year ago

2007-05-17T11:43:00.000+10:00

I wrote this entry over a year ago now. Sitting at Liverpool station in Sydney awaiting my train home. A questioning time for me upon returning to London and what I was searching for in the meantime, it became a small insight into a lot of built up frustration and unresolved issues.

In Sydney now before finding these scrawled in a blue book that someone close to me gave me a while ago along with many a love letter we shared. I read these letters to find happiness and the self-doubt which still lay within my writing. Her writing was that of love and emotion which I possibly have missed from time to time throughout my irregular relationships over years. I forgot about these letters and the thought the time that went into each upon sending them to her, and remembered that it was my first ever love. As one would say though, love is blind.

Reading these year-old scrawling it made me realise my head space has cleared after 12 months ago. I sit bored wanting something to do in Sydney instead of feeling relieved that I am safe and can relax. The rest of the year ahead determines a lot of judgement for me, and I am not afraid of it, as I look forward to it and the possible mistakes I could make.

A year as taught me a lot. I have met some of the most amazing people in this time while in London and they have shared with me their own life. Sobbing my heart out over Dave's shoulder only days ago made me realise that I was making the right decision because I was not worried about my future but looking forward to leaving London. I was finished with Europe and was awaiting the next big thing.

Anyhow, enough of the sob story - read on if you wish.

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My deepest fear is failure. The thought itself exists within the environment that surrounds me. The awakening of the next day brings the memory of what personal pressure I have placed upon myself. Yet I have let my fear once again become evident. This pressure cannot be lifted without the help of an existence I cannot perceive. Nor the entails of my tears that I constantly shed in my growing emotional state.

Count a score ago and I will regret from there. My belief in things have demoralised my own personal judgement to that of a rash, ill-received, somewhat depressed individual in the eyes of friends and now family. I contemplate the hole, which I admit to myself that I have shovelled. However, in the midst of my thought I forget to see the horizon of forgotten expectation I once had and continue to conceive through moments of clarity.

I had wished once for it all to end, a constant battle of awaking each morning to have the idea for a new plan. This is how sadistic and ill my thoughts about my future had concluded. Was I chasing attention? I had a fear of love and commitment, but had yearn its feeling. I feared of letting someone down, but as time progressed, I constantly understood that my laziness, portrayal and notion had become skewed. I then moved to London, it disappeared in a blur. Only to have it blur back into my conscious when I arrived back home. I depart back to London in fear of an expectant next couple of months of misery filled with self poverty while in exile. I have a new improved plan this time without the sadness, and to overcome my fear ..... failure.

The uncomfortable thought I get once faced with the what's ahead is a peculiar mix of how you perceive will happen being a realist. Understanding that faith of what you plan may have its flaws and weaknesses also has the success rate on how much spirit you involve yourself within. Rash decisions have been made in the past and the old saying of 'once you fall down, you pick yourself back up again' springs to my mind. But, then you think, how long does it take to move on, as you continue to stumble through emotion and lost control of your own willpower.

I've been told many a time to make a list, even of the smaller things that you want to change in your life, do not stick by it, but use it as a guide. Sure I can say "It's hard being me". But, that just invokes pity. I need to lose sight of trying to be the attention, but yet to understand it. Seek and ye shall find, I would be lying if I haven't tried to seek, but am I looking in the wrong places? Am I seeking approval or justification that my decision is right or wrong?

I think it becomes evident to me that next year I turn 30 and yet I feel that I have not done anything I am proud of to get me there. Yes I can say I achieved this or that, but to say that I would be lying as I have never been 100% committed in having that achievement succeed. SO the question I ask today was, should I go back to London? It's the first time I have asked myself this. I know it be would be the only reason and sensible thing to do. Than I fear if I go, when will I return again.... not if.

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Never sell yourself short. 12 months go by in your life and things change, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worse, but I'm sure in your life when you're thinking one thing, you'll quite possibly forget about it all in 12 months time because you have new idea's, endeavours, love/lust interests and worries to concern you.

It's good to smile in Sydney again, it's taken me a long time.

The last day in London

2007-05-15T12:14:00.001+10:00

Three am is a wonderful opportunity to explore the avenues of insight and what lies beneath a veil of anxiety and belief that the knowledge you have collected, shared and influenced over a few years with people comes to a close and a possible new chapter emerges.

We have many avenues to pursue and make mistakes throughout our life and finally for a number of days, weeks, months and years I feel it is time for me to emerge out of my cocoon of self resin and ‘be strong’. The encounters I will face in this new chapter lie emerged in a layer of self doubt that I left behind.

I cried with a passion of leaving people behind in London on Sunday morning and throughout Sunday evening. The joy of crying was more of a relief that I fulfilled what I came here to achieve and succeed in. I found happiness with some of the greatest of friends I could call my own. I leave with a sense of sadness on many a subject but as the ‘Alice in Wonderland treadmill’ kept being turned on, I knew that my happiness would soon subside if I stayed longer than I expected. Pursuing the inevitable is a trait we all desire but sometimes acknowledge that love itself is around each corner and one ‘boof-head’ is always willing to accept you for who you are.

I sit looking at unpacked bags and a conformed weigh in of luggage which I feel guilty of leaving behind. Funny how the perception of luggage is thought another way near five years ago when I decided that it was time for me to move away from Australia.

Space will be the only option when I return to Australia. The claustrophobia of London will soon subside and ‘en-shala’ I will emerge that home is where the heart lies.

Personal tragedy aside. I feel that I am not the only one to share the loss of leaving a place they have grown fond of throughout the years for a given reason. Our lives are enriched with the experience we descend into with each day we get out of our beds, dress in our cotton and open the door to be enthralled in what the rest of the waking hours brings us (alas Monday’s are exempt from this).

The people who miss me, know eventually where to find me. The friends who miss me however, should not feel discouraged, because they are always heavy upon my heart, and I will always be with them.

To the banner I tell people and to the love I have shared with many. Remember, especially, when you have friend willing to pour you another drink or play you another song…..

London is a lonely place, but you will never feel alone.

Personal update

2007-05-10T22:33:00.000+10:00

Returning back from Egypt and Jordan has made the fine lines of stress and age disappear and has become replaced with a pink layer of sunshine and half a smile of the road ahead.

I have been organizing this Saturday’s farewell alongside Sam and Jaime’s and am looking forward to falling unconscious come 3am Sunday.

Being a little worried about a few things upon my departure by not saying all my goodbyes and if I have got everyone’s contact details, along with the fact of leaving Guilia (she’s been so positive with me, as we both know the final stretch is looming over us) here in London.

Also worried about my arrival back to Sydney, as I have dropped out of contact with most people there, but alas this is just something I will face when I get back. Just heard Little Al is returning to London in July (like ships passing in the darkness).

With the ‘How was Egypt?’ still echoing through my head from all my happy friends, I still try to think how it was. I can only explain that apart from the little hiccups that Dave and I experienced throughout the 18 days - that it would have to be the best travel adventure I have ever had. Every day there was something to laugh at and laugh with. A little fluffy bunny rabbit (Dirka Dirka Birka Dirka Muhammed "Ali") sat in my pocket most of the adventure around Egypt and Jordan and it always attracted the attention of locals. Getting food poisoning was a necessity that we all found sobering. Bartering not entirely one of my strongest traits however I drive a mean bargain against the children of Egypt. The vodka and whiskey is not to be trifled with, it is for medicinal purposes only. If you're from Colombia you are considered Egyptian. Dave continues to practice the art of homosexual scuba diving. I have a strong fascination with calling myself Prince Mustafa when I wear mirrored shades and a dress now. Re hydration is a must however thinking those salts did anything for you was a joke.

I have been asked by Dave to recount our daily tales in the near future and as my head slower deteriorates to liver abuse I feel that it might be a possible pipe dream.

So I'm not currently within the creative mood of writing just yet as I’m too relaxed to think of the misadventures of life for you all to concentrate on. So in the meantime why don’t you all open up a recipe book and cook something you haven’t cooked before, and take a before and after photo.

Homage to Bramlands

2007-04-13T00:28:00.000+10:00

A slight smile and look of anxiety and the dig in your pockets to pull out the keys to open your front door makes people have that urge to go to the toilet.

The squeak on the floorboard everytime you enter your room, no matter what time of day or night, still makes everyone aware that you are home.

The couch which you sit on and never want to get up from after a long days work makes that remote control look so far away on your weathered but charmed coffee table.

The travel guides you flicked through wishing you were there sometimes sit alonside other peoples cd's you have listened to and enjoyed.

The socks, ice cream and alcohol that goes missing.

The menu's for take away in easy reach, but you already have the number on your mobile phone.

The bills you share pinned to the communal noticeboard in the kitchen which sits above the many unopened letters of long since departed previous occupants.

Someone not speaking English in another room excitedly and you wondering why you dropped out of your language lessons at high school.

The photo's tacked to your wall of places, people and good times, along with the small souvenirs which hang, pile or gather dust.

This is a typical house share. Sometimes a beautiful harmony of peoples existance which collide together because you all have the most common basic animal instincts. Shelter, warmth and good food.

Today is my last day within Bramlands at Clapham Junction. A place which I found home and many of my friends have also. A place I returned from work an dknowning in the next hour a jingle of a key in the lock will welcome home my housemates also. The familiar shout of 'Hello or Hola' would be returned with a 'Yo' as they walked through the door. Smiles and talking about how rotten our day was a regular informal occurance with a glimpse into each of our lives, both personal and professional.

I will miss the looks at the end of the night while within one of the many establishments around the Clapham area. The look of 'what now?' and me saying 'Back to mine?'

I will miss my housemates, both gorgeous and both indepentently unique in thier own ways have taught me tolerance and freedom to express my burping at will along with some very broken spanish and mixed netball sessions.

I will miss my neighbours, most long since rotated or departed. But would of been a welcome return to summer with some new faces on the balcony and me inviting them over for a beer.

I will miss the little bits of me that remain here. The painted walls, the framed photos and the memories from existing housemates re-told on random nights to other people in the flat.

I will miss the sharing, the love and the friendly nature this place holds people to as soon as they walk through the blue door. It's homely with that added pleasure of stocked amounts of liquor.

I now leave it in the hands of the new Kiwi lass moving in who will soon find out the pleasures of living with Emily and Maite. I will hopefully return to this blue front door one day and smile knowing that this used be my home.

Lost in machinery virginity

2007-04-03T10:09:00.000+10:00

Why is it that the new arrivals in your office become a fixture of imagination?

A young bright eyed brunette girl now sits opposite one near thirty, morning hating, unshaven slob (me). She is suited and wearing the square framed glasses that make most men drool onto their keyboard day in and day out. I think I'm turning into a dirty old pervert, because my two second glimpses turns into a 5 hour sexual encounter complete with toys.

Which in turn leads me to this story.

Last night I was introduced to what women have labelled their best friend, trusted companion and confident. Unfortunately for us men, we still have to consult to a hairy slobbering beast which defecates on your rose bed and urinates in your closet, luckily for you though he only has to give a speech at your wedding.

The embarrassment for the both of us died down until after she asked if I wanted to see others. With the shock and ensuing thoughtful images exploding in my cranium that I have just stumbled upon the girl with 1,000 dildo's. As she walked to her closet, another thought that I would be soon showered in neon coloured silicon vibrating me to a slow orgasmic death.

"What .... you've had this since you were 16?"

I was the child who destroyed his toys after a few weeks, lost them in the mud or traded them with a friend. I find it hard to even keep my mobile phone for more than a month without losing it on a train. Staring down into my palms, I handled it like it was an ancient religious relic. I soon became jealous that it had probably beaten the buzzer more times than a man has for her. I handed it back to her bowing my head softly at it's idol-like status.

Then I was introduced to the girls 'Excalibur'. What has been coined as the best thing since champagne for girls was now suddenly in full view. I looked at it with alien ideals and alarming vanity.

"What the hell does this do?"

On saying this she pushes one of the 4 buttons and I watch in amazement at the "serpents tongue" flicking 1000 deaths at my own tongues now obsolete dexterity. The 3 extra buttons once activated melted the very essence that I would never be able to please another girl again. It was mesmerizing to watch the many different functions all simultaneously echo a whirring laughter at the last remaining manhood and pride I had left.

In years to come, I can see men having ball-bearings surgically inserted into their foreskin. An extra finger attached to side of their cock and having to strap AA batteries to their testicles every time Barry White was about to be played. The whole term 'push my buttons' would be renewed with blitzkrieg like advertising as the girl would be able to select a variety of functions from the males' forehead.

Would a man leave his prized PSP at home if he's going on a 3 week travel trip which would lack a majority of single women?

She smiled at me with embarrassment but said that she didn't like 'the rabbit' but rather a very basic model. When picking it up I became quite alarmed by the sensitivity of the on/off function with its dial. It immediately reminded me a news article I read that a majority of false alarms for bomb detection in airports were vibrators. I smiled retelling her the story as I asked if she travelled with it and already knowing the answer.

As I look at it with amusement, I felt my arm being squeezed. Not only was she pre-empting a military insertion, she was obviously not as shy as she thought she would be about my introduction to 'the crew'. However, I was having second thoughts, even though I now had enough devices at my disposal to make tectonic plates collide, I was a little put off by the whole thought of where the labour for man had now progressed. No longer was I that blue collared worker, who enjoyed the feeling of an earned pay cheque at the end of a few hours manual labour. Now, a creased white collared shirt along with grooming products was evident and presented before me. I could only go with the flow of conformity that the enjoyment of a snorkel dive is slowly being replaced by Bugs Bunny.

Have men become extinct at their function?

Obviously we need to adapt to this new criteria and there is going to be times when those toys aren't needed. What made me realise that at the end of my near 10 minutes of white collared amusement with her, that there was nothing left short of a vibrating tongue on my part that I could do now to accept this new found rise of the machine.

I know one good mate relies on his own personal collection to 'add to the enjoyment and experience' and my only advice to him was; "I hope you wash those things, before you use them again". I feel that they are very personal and I could not see myself purchasing a toy for my own personal use, nor buy a toy for the next time a girl stays over - I could only imagine the conversation and explanation. Great of course for the valentine's day present and the rekindling and dispersion of a sexual apartheid in ones relationship of course.

However I cannot wipe the smile from my face today at work realising my new masculine role now. Hence, I would probably fall asleep a lot sooner not having to question my 'fake-dar' post-coital. Of course there will be times when batteries aren't included, but I now know what I'm competing with in today's singles world. I'm up against a vibrating King Kong and unfortunately there is nothing I can do except enjoy my palm being massaged while trying not to recall the last time my best friend shat in the flower bed.

Sorry

2007-03-13T23:44:00.000+11:00

Sorry

I've had a few ideas of late but nothing worth the fingerprint to key at the moment.

Ideas;

Homage to BBS - Acid Inc.
Skeptics anon
Clepto - Why worry if its there
Human dismissal of our 'animal' instincts
The discovery of Emerson - for some light reading go read < click here >

All these were something that I have clued about but really nothing I have gone on a journey about just yet. So I remained blocked until then.

Currently getting boxes together and finishing up my journey in London. Leaving for Egypt in early April and return in May to end a saga in England.

Until the plug is pulled from my head you will have to await clarity....

Observed frustrations

2007-02-28T02:33:00.000+11:00

Been a funny old couple of days in London for me recently. Being witness to some very odd behaviour by members of the public. We all tend to get frustrated at minuscule things, sometimes unfortunately I take it out on my colleagues at work between 9-11am each morning. Until of course coffee kicks in or I feel the sadistic pleasure of ripping the last remaining shred of decency from someone during that time.

As I subject myself to the public mainstream my observations have me a little jumpy lately. I feel the zombie's are getting a little restless. Brain's are off the menu and hormonal badgers the chef's speciality.

Sunday 10:43am.
I found myself in ASDA buying more ingredients on a hangover, my research has found it to be common that I find the following in my basket.

1 garlic bread (knowing full well it'll be forgotten about in the oven and burnt to a cinder like last weeks)
1 large bottle of juice (usually involving 3 different varieties of fruit which 1 of them I hate with a passion)
1 bottle of Chicken Tonight (no chicken to go with it)
2 large slightly impressive sweet red peppers (they looked weird but delicious.. they will probably rot)
1 loaf of bread - brown (I hate brown bread)
6 cans of tuna (I have 10 already, maybe things will get nuclear)
1 mop head (last week it was a toilet paper holder)
My research continues

Having a dazed and confused glazed stare at the passersby underneath a baseball cap,I hear a sudden crash of twisted metal behind me. My sphincter clenched with savage primal instincts prone to an attack by an oncoming column of dog food tins, I pivot to see two ladies (equally as wide as their trolleys) within a heated frenzy. Each trying to either fly or communicate with bizarre but underrated peacock language used by ancient Aztecs.

I then realise it seemed so loud and crazy in the store one moment ago. Now it seems that I have been thrust into a gladiatorial battle arena and the acoustics of their little argument are suddenly amplified for the masses. I'm even sure the zombie soundtrack on the airways above me has been abruptly halted. Where the hell are the camera crews, dog's and search lights. Is this an invasion. I love the feeling of lesser brain activity on a Sunday morning plus the added hangover... and an overactive imagination.

Their tiff was something to do with who had the right of way in the aisle. To tell you the truth though folks, one of them was going to have to back the hell up, 'beep beep beep' style. It ended 30 seconds later with both of them turning their junk-food hi-carb chariots around in an acute three point turn and wobble off in different directions.

"Damn Sunday drivers..." I slurred to myself which didn't raise any hint of a smile with my queued com padres. But I did get a 'Hi how are you doing' from the check-out dude, so I raised my hand for the high and got the five. Whip-lash!

Monday 7:35pm.
Finally getting home in my monkey suit, I contemplate quickly my work-day. It seemed to be a cross between a safari in the Congo hunting crazed midget water buffaloes and the need to commit suicide by ritual paper cutting to my nether-regions while chanting Sting albums. Maybe it was because I was out of nicotine? I head over to Dave's on the bus, one of London's finest red go-go mobiles. Close to the jump-point for Dave's an elderly man from the Caribbean hops on with a jovial personality. I can't understand a word he is saying so I presume he's drunk to boot. Way to go my mon!

He starts speaking jive - 'You dun know who da hell I's am.. mon... blah blah.' The bus driver is taking none of his Beegee's back catalogue and is refusing entry. Rasta-bob continues and continues and continues.. jiving on the spot, rapping like Chuck Dee in dreadlocks with a hint of NWA, because I definitely heard 'Fuck tha police'. I feel inclined just to get up and pay for his ticket, but realise I just spent the last coins on some Marlboro's and a packet of extra-fruit bubblicious (Mastication for the nation!). Rasta-bob seems to be now jigging on the spot arguing with the driver and I'm feeling a tense wave of 'Hurry the fuck-up' around me by the passengers. I smell this breeze of stale perfumed Tampax air rush passed me and a stocky short cropped middle aged woman rushes to the front of the bus and confronts Rasta-bob. She's polite.. Rasta-bob isn't, he's fired up with on a boombastic rhyme and she's hurried up with a hormonal imbalance. Within 20 seconds the debate turns vicious. I stand and everyone turns looks at me...
It's funny that feeling, where you throw on your invisible blue cape and you have that ' Time to save the god damn day' tune coursing through your veins. I try to wince in the stomach with hydraulics and pigeon out the chest to form the ill-fated hero stance. All I am succeeding in doing however is the look of a year long constipation and a half baked impression of an Elvis move with one knee. Fortunately for me, Rasta-bob takes flight with a series of Bob Marley songs and asking the woman to show him her badge. I could use that line in a bar next time so I pen it down and sit back next to the cute Indian girl with a moustache.
I say "Wow Monday Blues" but alas it doesn't seem heard over the murmurs of 'Nice one lady' from the audience as the lady returns to the back of the bus saying something about having 'kids to feed'.
The air returns to a thin crust of stale vomit and sweat, inappropriately bad braking and the random ding-ding-ding's.

Tuesday 8:39am.
Every morning I am faced with the entire task of getting to work through a series of sardine cramped body presses. I am sometimes lucky to be crushed between a couple of women. Soft breasts crushed into my spine with my crutch pressed up against the higher recess of a 5 foot 3 inch blond and the warm smile of joy and daydream. That is a good day, hell, some would interpret that to be a perfect start to the day, I'll concur!
Today however my balls seemed to have worked there way accidentally into the knuckles of a man grasping his bag and I'm getting hot air blown on the back of my neck by some bastard who is taller then me, and good hope he's carrying a banana in his pocket because I dread to think otherwise.

I sweat all the way to Waterloo, get off in haste and walk my way to the Waterloo to Bank underground line. I arrive at the end of a moving queue which infrequently stops with banana-boy stepping in front of me. A middle aged well spoken English chap turns and says to the cucumber-kid.
'There's a queue don't you know.'
'Yes I know I'm at the end of it'
'No you are not, you stepped in front of four people.' The toff looking my way for acknowledgement, I just have this smile on my face of bemusement and not really caring about the situation. Hell the last two days have been entertaining.. so bring it.. banker boys!
They then go at it with verbal assault telling each other in polite circumstances how to fuck-off and jam appendages into their orifices. I finally pipe up behind them as it does suddenly go off on a very childish tangent as I heard 'No, you are' come from one of them.

"Now now boys.." I say with a smile.
They stop.... red faced and open up there respective papers and read on about who Paris was jerking off this week.
Smiling broadly I utter aloud "Tuesday tantrums" - this time I see a girl smile my way who actually heard the call and a couple of muffled guffaws.
I wink at her and tuck my blue cape back in my pants, as salami-steve is now nestled in behind the toff and life returns back to the informal.

Shivers

2007-02-22T03:01:00.001+11:00

I’ve been contemplating Suicide But it really doesn’t suit my style So I think I’ll just act bored instead To contain the blood I could have shed She makes me feel so weary My heart is really on its knees
But I keep a poker face so well
That even my mother couldn’t tell
That my baby’s so vain
She is almost a mirror
And the sound of her name
Send a permanent shiver
Down my spine
Down my spine
Well I keep her photograph against my heart
Cause in my life she plays
A starring part
Our love could hold on cigarettes
There is no room for these cheap regrets
She makes me feel so weary
My heart is really on its knees
But I keep a poker face so well
That even my mother couldn’t tell
That my baby’s so vain
She is almost a mirror
And the sound of her name
Send a permanent shiver
Down my spine
Down my spine
Sends a permanent shiver down my spine

This song has not been played for a very long time in my headspace. I feel this only became apparent to me when DeeDee played his guitar the other night as we were trying to pen down some words to one of his songs. I had tried to think of other songs I knew at the time, and my brain much like a colander, I was unable to at the time. Alas, when I woke up Monday morning I started instantly singing, humming and whistling these lyrics all the way to work. Don't make any perplexing reason why I was so chipper after the weekend that flew me by.

I'm afraid I won't be able to release it from my skull. I will need to track down my catalogue of Screaming Jets on my IPOD, which I haven't switched on for over 6 months, and hope I have it saved. I'm yet to hear the original track by Nick Cave, but rather Dave Gleeson's version. Would you believe I requested this song once (many many moons ago) for my love at the time on Triple J. Remembering clearly, I was driving home from yet another 12 hour work-day in Sydney and all I could think about was her and this song. Did I just hear 'Awwwww's in the audience or was that dry-retching?

If you're asking why I keep posting these articles regarding songs? It's a pattern and I think a lot of people understand that music remind us of certain things in our past (click to read). Unfortunately a few songs remind me of very disillusioned clubs when I was young trying to look cool in my hood. I'm then suddenly struck with thoughts of how I learnt to dance like a white man. Then the image of my dad shaking his stuff comes into frame and I'm now lost for any further useless words. Unfortunately all men one day are going to be pitied by their own younger blood when you feel that you still have the balls for the "struttin' it" disco technique (I know you loved that linky).

I was going to post on my upcoming 'bearded man' project but alas that will have to wait until I get the creativity to adapt to the thought and start the project. At the moment Sam is by far jumping leaps and bounds ahead in a race to be Grizzly Adams.

Would you believe I wrote this while in an office meeting listening to my boss come out with some outrageous work orientated metaphors.

"It's come home to roost" - was my personal favourite along with "Drilling down and thrashing it out" of which, I got slightly aroused amongst the group of women. Got any yourselves?

Ulivyoligema utalinywa

2007-02-20T10:17:00.000+11:00

Your bed is the primary example of comfortability. Lately these weekends I seem to be missing planting my big ol' white ass upon it's queen. Suffice to say, my bed isn't one of the most delightful possessions I have. The springs of the mattress poke into your back and the bedding unit is on the verge of collapsing as it promotes screaming as its way of telling you. You can only imagine its symphony when it rarely gets tested with more than one individual within. Sure, buying a new one has always been on the agenda, but alas that is the lack of me surfacing and going "bed shopping" one bright sunny weekend morning. However, my bedding represents a lot of pillows and a duvet the size of a small country. Sleeping is presumably the best hobby one can have. Tally up the number of hours I can sleep on some weekends and you would probably fall sleep yourself.

Friday evening had me pub-crawling with some of my friends within Battersea discussing relevant topics in their life. A somewhat intriguing outlook established with them on Friday with an email asking them to 'Bring along an article to discuss'. 5 drunk men talking about politics, random acts of obtrusive behavior, growing a beard (my next blog), racism and why Horse thought a picture that Colleen McLoughlin had helped replicate made him gush. Obviously intriguing for some it ended up with me doing really bad party tricks. This went until I was called away on a late night rendezvous at midnight, and escaping the next morning at an unforgiving hour to meet up for breakfast to discuss the religion of drinking coffee through a very small hole.

Only a few brain cells were firing for me so early Saturday morning as I sat in front of a fry up which could only be described as inedible. The word's of Alan, said upon one frosty morn after a night of raving many years ago, should of been uttered before ordering said fry-up - 'I can only do one lettuce leaf'. Unfortunately I was designated food which slid on a plate, a coffee which was determined to pronounce itself to the world as mud and a very deep accented Scottish girl. Time eventually slid by as I shuffled off to a nearby Sainsbury's to fill a shopping basket full of food. Little research has been discovered about the intricacies of doing you shopping on a hang-over. I believe it should be regulated.

Late Saturday afternoon ending two dvd's and with a mobile which would not stop ringing, I was soon in the land of 'kip' on my couch. Awoken a few hours later to a dishevelled DeeDee standing over me, smiling that I obviously looked worse then him. Tearing the tongue from the roof of my mouth I managed to smoke through broken cracked lips and gives nods of desperation that I was on a virtual landslide of unconsciousness yet again he eventually said goodbyes and left. I slept more ... on the couch.

Finally the mobile was answered to the familiar voice of Neighbour 4, Bec, around 10pm who was reminding me about one of her housemates farewell that night. I was expected to waltz to upstate Clapham Common and harbour some feelings of celebration. I was not in a state until I turned on some selected Stanton Warrior tracks, get into a shower, dress in the clothing hanging on my floor, and arrived at her door within 30 minutes, looking as fresh as a 2 week-old used condom. Only thing that kept me awake was the thought of possibly bumping into 'the strange girl' I met last week who was 'in the area... drinking'. I must have been producing the right pheromone's as I walked into the bar, between el naturale and old rust, as it seemed to have a few of the neighbour's friends conversing with yours truly, at least I think it was talking. I was obviously sober.

With continuous pre-designated spots in the bar via sms I soon Sherlocked that this 'strange girl' was actually not in the same bar as me, but in a club on the other side of town. Obviously my time was drawing to a close with these circumstances to the conclusion of - 'I couldn't be fucked with this anymore' scenario. Reaching for scarf and my air of drunken confidence I strode to DeeDee's doorstep at 2am on a Sunday. Ever so surprised he was still conscious, we both decided it wise to drink his bottle of scotch and sing very loudly while he played on his guitar. Thus eventually falling asleep on his smoke ridden couch at a time which seemed to be the arousal of life and light behind the fogged panel of glass in his living room.

I was awake a few hours later with a girl in loose fitting bathrobe standing over me mouthing words which were presumably Swahili questioning my comfortability during sleep. I left soon after with a grunt of thanks and shuffled home to lower myself onto that couch again. Now realising my reply in Swahili should of been "Adhabu ya kaburi aijua maiti" as I felt the burden of pain in my lower back.

Soldiering on, I was managing to keep one slinky eye open during Al Gore's droned monologue 'An Inconvenient Truth' and drink half a litre of coffee before my body registered the need to collapse. I crawled on hand and knee to my chapel of peace around 7pm on Sunday and realising 10 seconds later it was probably the best decision I made all weekend.

Awaking Monday I cursed the Earth that it had shortened my weekend since 7pm Sunday. Knowing the cycle of my ritualistic attempt to make me into a half decent monkey each morning for the next 5 days was now evident.

You cannot know the bugs of a bed that you have not lain on.

The Nostalgia of Valentine

2007-02-15T07:08:00.000+11:00

People writing about Valentine's Day tend be quite critical about the back-drop of how much of a high priced budget affair it can lead to. Society has conformed us enough to remind us on frequent occasion that today is the day not to be single and I can hear them laughing at me (or is that my other personality). The marketing drama queens make a mockery of every celebration there is in my "Western civilization", it was only the other week my colleague was eating Hot Cross Buns in January, and yes, I was jealous.

I look at the chance also that most singles possibly enjoy this day. Realizing it's a good time to come out of their own self invovled floundering into the rose-colored light of expressing themselves to each other. I do enjoy seeing people in love though, I am not that cynical.... yet. However I will draw the line when there is an expected sense of duty to perform last rites on your pride to a girl who is single and available, but doesn't dig my scrawny looks and tattered ego - often expressed with them walking the other direction.

How many women are wearing red today and didn't know it? Sure sure, you're celebrating Valentine's day, but are you also somehow attuning yourselves to the call of the wild and invoking the wrath of the male mating season on your doorstep? Are you stepping out into a bar tonight full of horny unattractive men who think tonight is their night because they may find themselves a "desperately seeking"?

Basic stats

On average each person who celebrates spends an average of £83 according to a recent survey in London, and nearly a fifth of British men will buy a card 'because they feel they have to'
In 2006 the National Retail Federation in the states estimated $13.7 billion is spent in USA alone
It's probably the last thing most people think about when buying roses. But by the time the velvety, vibrant-colored flowers reach a Valentine's Day buyer, most will have been sprayed, rinsed and dipped in a battery of potentially lethal chemicals...

But it isn't all that bad is it?

In Japan women buy the chocolate for men , furthermore they follow this up with White Day on March 14th where the men return the favor (probably with a wink and lift of the chin a couple of times)
Of course the Chinese have something delightfully exotic - The Night of Sevens or Qi Xi, but I like the colloquial term of Magpie's Day where young girls traditionally demonstrate their domestic skills (like they don't do enough already?)
In Iran - Sepandarmazgan - held on 29 Bahman is the day of love (Maybe George won't consider bombing Iran if he knew this?)
On the 15th day of the Month of Av - Jewish tradition is to have the girls dress in white dresses and dance in vineyards where the boys would be waiting for them (I'm certain I was at a party like this last year which involved very loud music)
The Brazilians celebrate on June 12th (This one has logged away for the next time I am trying to impress a Brazilian lass... I'm serious!)
'Da del amor y la amistad' is celebrated in Columbia and Mexico much like a secret santa (where they set each other up with little bags of white powder and leave an anonymous phone call off to the Policia)
Finland have a 'friends day' (Swinging is all that comes to my mind when I read this)
Supposedly the birds and the bee's come out on the 12th of March in Slovenia to propose their love for each other - and they call it Saint Gregory's Day
Dragobete - is in the calendar for Romania for the 24th February and the birdies get frisky (Gypsy love seems unattractive, if you can get passed the moustache you're halfway there)
However what disturbed me, is some man named Jack could be knocking on the door of my house and wants to give me his sweets according to some of Norfolk's weird folk legends ( I'm sorry, but people get hospitalized for lesser things where I live)

But who and what is Valentine's Day ? Well it wasn't made up by the CEO's of Hallmark (as some people will love to tell you). But I'm betting my loveless left recently shaved nut that their coffers steadily increase each year, while saturating your life the reminder that you need to love someone. It is the second best profit making time for card's. We all tend to become a little overwhelmed with the hype of doing good deeds for our betrothed today, but as one would put it, I hope you do it a little more often then today.

The Anti-Valentine's lobby have announced that today is not the day to make love, so I'm guessing tomorrow they will back in the hot-seats. With their speed-dating nights, single dot com's and the whole array of how their heart's continue to be broken by those they entrusted them to. To the cynics out there who I have been reading in the eve leading up until today, I would like to congratulate you on enjoying another fun soaked day of being single and hopefully, enjoying it. One thing could be for certain. When you strap on that great big bullshit helmet hoping to catch a glimpse of crap on your radar, the question still comes out that highway of lonelinesss we all travel - Will you be getting any tonight?

My Valentine's present I received as an email today, has been more of a heart-break of anger and a impression of guilt on my part. Knowing that my encroaching and ever so unpopular destiny in London for the time being could possibly be snuffed. I still remember leaving 'someone' back at home and now knowing another guy will be spending money on her today. But, I've always lived in that dream world hoping she may well come around to her senses, and that's why I remain single and oblivious of our anxious decisions that us silly romantics effortlessly produce quite so well.

So with my £83, a low self esteem, a single outlook on love with that overwhelming desire to go to bed early, I've have decided that Jack may be entertaining me tonight after all, not with candy though. Sorry Dave, I know you're taking that girl of yours to the restaurant across the road from mine tonight, there still is a good possibility that Jack and I will be streaking by that window with love hearts attached to my bellend as promised.

All jokes aside interestingly enough, Valentine's Day was never based on the ephemeral pleasures of a single day. It originated in the Romans Lupercalia festival, held in honor of the god who protected their herds from wolves.

So I hope you may find some light in reading my depravity, as it isn't all that bad being single. You may have noone to be with tonight/tomorrow or next lunar cycle. There will always be those sharp fanged cynics out there willing to bite into the fabric of a day which celebrates, dare I say it, love and I feel we should all be more like shepherds to encourage a hug between friends and strangers.

If you take a chance
You risk failure
If you don't
You ensure it

Metamorphose

2007-02-14T04:28:00.000+11:00

The common mistake I do on an increasing amount is to misjudge my perception of things. At the moment I'm coming to terms with my depth perception, however this is a minor adjustment of crouching a little, turning my head to the side and not actually looking directly into the glass. Many times I have thought the glass to be full.

It's an interesting metaphor to start my spiel and I've had a few friends comment on the whole reason of the title of this blog. Maybe in this one small thousand plus words of thought we can come to a final solution, of course David Irving may deny it ever existed though.

If you had to one word for how your life has become, what would it be?

We all like to look at the challenges we face throughout our possible significance that the answer has some mystical importance to it all. The only things we cannot be certain about, is our future. We all know this, but are continually harassed by society around us, that there is an end that you don't really want to face. There is no start again button, there is no reset button and there is no chance that my bizarre theory of stopping time will become reality. Alas to answer our fantasy we are still faced by a clock in the bottom right corner of our lives.

We all like to be asked of an opinion and I know a majority of us have an answer
to throw back when someone asks about their opinion on a movie they watched
recently, and there is always a devil's advocate.
We all have experienced something, which gives us that sensitivity of being human, that warmth and love that we have somewhat have learnt through our own mistakes. Plenty of phone numbers in my phone I neglect to call, but plenty of people who forgive me for
it.
We all feed from emotion and the desire to have some popularity within a
conversation, without that trait we would not have evolved politics into what it
is today, unfortunately for us we think the governments of the world are run by
monkeys.
Alas to answer ourselves they are continually pointed out to us.

I was drowned in a subject recently, on a message board I frequent, and the argument which ensued was something that did grab a hold of me. Along the lines of - 'What if global warming was possibly a hoax or false?' Conspiracy theory, mixed with scientific judgement and a pinch of fact. Sure I have my own opinion on the entire grand scheme of things but it's a little far flung and would involve the entire male species dying off leaving me to populate the rest of the world with a couple of good mates. Alas to answer a theory twisted and outrageous humour is involved.

All things's considered I thought humanity was stagnant. Waiting for the next best thing to put into our delicate heads. We presume the future ahead of us and some of us make effort to bridge that gap, but yet we all seem to recycle. Each morning with a coffee in hand I sit in front a computer and read the top headline stories of the world through a data source. The constant every day occurrence of the tragedies in the world glimpse for a moment and then disappear to resurface possibly a month later when someone wants to remind us again. I've always thought I was destined for the grand design of things to come. Yet I still order that coffee and recycle the next day and read other peoples information and messages which they have recycled from somewhere else. Alas to answer the drama we switch the channel and feel tea is much better in the morning.

But maybe I've misjudged it all. I continue pouring half glasses of water to quench my thirst, often realising my mistake. I've adapted with it. Because although it could possibly be my eyes, my senses or just poor volume to mass ratio, it still really comes down to measurement because you have not realised the size of the glass I drink from.

Let me bring you out of the pit of despair. I answer a lot of questions asked of me by friends with some twisted metaphor and hopefully one so obscure that the person, although elated that I seemed so insightful by their problem - they really just can't determine the positioning of the real truth in my answer. I have a lot of 'end of the roads' facing me in the coming months which I am anxious and look forward too solving.

My evolution of judgement will continue to enjoy the complexities of a pure metaphor.

ed: 75% complete (need to hyper-link)

Thanks mum!

2007-02-13T21:54:00.000+11:00

Yes it was 4am in the morning and cold and I was asking a stranger to take a photo of me outside a kebab house in Shoreditch after a long night at Tea Bar.

She asked what it was for ?

I replied in a slurred happy voice "My mummy knitted my scarf, I need to send her this picture."

She thought I was being cute... Thanks mum you may help me score hot women with this !

Hope you all have a Happy Valentines' day! I give you all my thumb's up approval of speed dating if you're single.

Eng-er-land !!

2007-02-08T22:11:00.000+11:00

You know you've been in England too long when;

1. You don't even bother looking out of the window when you get up in the morning to check what the day is like. You know it is overcast.

Very true, I have my curtain shut 90% of the time. The only time I look out the window is when I hearing screaming or there is possibly a brawl from outside the pub just down the road. Sensible viewing.

2. You believe that Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday are all good nights for drinking. Sunday day is also entirely reasonable.

Absolutely true. Any day is a good day to drink. Work drinks are a necessity to encourage your social status and kidney failure. Your social status will get you sex and the kidney failure will get you flowers and sympathy.

3. You can't remember what 'customer service' means.

Oh fuck off this can't be true! Everyone's a fucking wanker anyhow when you speak to them on the phone.

4. After a big night out you find yourself looking for a Curry house and not a 24 hour McDonalds.

As I don't eat at McDonalds I don't emphasise. Though as a kebab here looks like a used diaper when it's given to you over the counter and are about as tasty as one, curry's do become your best option. Also a curry is sensationally brilliant when you puke them up on a pavement, because you no some lucky beggar is going to turn green when they see it in the morning, and start worrying about your health.

5. You start to accept queuing as a way of life.

Literally this morning. 15 minutes to get a ticket for the train. 20 minutes herded into a small semi circle where the doors may open on the platform and shuffling forward (miss two trains because they are jammed pack). 7 minutes waiting for your ham and cheese toastie which you orders 3 times already (because the girl's first language isn't English) over the increasingly disturbing jackhammer behind you. 10 minutes in line for coffee in work cafeteria. And it isn't even 11am!

6. More than three hours sunlight on summer days seems excessive.

Going to disagree. More than three hours of sunlight on a summer's day could blind people.

7. You always call soccer 'football' ... and you have a team ... and it's not Manchester United. (what's wrong with United??)

Well firstly it's managed by an arrogant Scottish prick! Secondly 'United' are not half as proud as the Spurs!

8. You don't think twice about buying a packaged sandwich.

The bread here is always stale, that's why!

9. A sunny lunchtime means searching for a patch of grass and stripping off practically down to your underwear.

I'm blinded again! I'm scared to look at my own legs due to the overwhelming sense that they could cause emotional stress to all.

10. You expect men to actually cut, comb and style their hair (using hair products) and to wear decent clothes. Jeans and a T-shirt are no longer socially acceptable.

Always did anyhow, depends on your type of jeans and t-shirt though.

11. You think 40 quid for a haircut is quite reasonable.

Yes I used to think this until I met my neighbour who's a hairdresser and does it for 15 quid.

12. You finish every sentence with 'Cheers' or "In'it", and start every conversation with Hiya or Alright.

Never used in'it but I use the other 3 with a lot of liberal sense.

13. You only just realise you have lost your sunglasses-you left them in Greece 2 summers ago.

Was actually in Australia.

14. You start thinking English cuisine isn't all that bad after all, I mean, it's hard to beat a full English breakfast.

Bacon, Eggs, Hash, Beans, Sausage, Dry toast and the all important Black Pudding (find out what it is and you'll throw up a little in your mouth).

15. You are on to your 6th umbrella and your second overcoat.

Fourth overcoat, 2nd umbrella.

16. You buy a disposable baby BBQ from Argos.

Oh yeh! Those things BURN everything!

17. You realise your sunscreen is the stuff you originally brought from home with you.

Absolutely true. I have this fluro yellow zinc as well that the only place I wear is at Australia versus games.

18. A day at the beach means wearing the warmest clothes you own while standing on golf ball-size pebbles and the thought of swimming doesn't even enter your head.

But Brighton is such a lovely place .. to shop

19. You actually say, "Sor'ed" or "its all gone a bit pear shaped".

Yep. Australian translation to those would be:
"It's all good" and "Up shit creek"

20. Wearing a suit in a pub is relatively normal attire.

Last week - Tuesday, Thursday and Friday - in a suit, seated in a pub, with a number of other people in the same thing, quite possibly whinging also about weather, work and women.

21. You have given up complaining about the Victorian-like banking services offered in the UK.

Banking and service should not be seen together in the same sentence in UK.

22. You have given up explaining why you are half an hour late to work as no-one notices or even cares. In fact - you may even join the one hour gossip session around the coffee machine before booting up your computer.

It is 11am now, and I believe nobody has done an ounce of work. Except of course me because I carry the team.

23. Coming to work with a hangover is entirely accepted and indeed expected at least once a week.

I think I still stink of Scotch to be honest.

Where has all the white dog poo gone?

2007-01-31T21:53:00.000+11:00

Many a conversation or debate has been discussed within my team at work. Now you might think to yourself how interesting a conversation between a bunch of recruitment consultants within an investment bank can be. Take my word for it, they can get quite weird and usually ends up with me trying to figure out the intellectual boundaries that are around these people.

The case of "Do spiders drink water?" from Sandra unfolded into into "Do spiders drink water from your mouth while sleeping?"
The case of "I hate certain words!" from Toby unfolded into a blatant disregard of combining everyone's words into "Like Tight Moist Panties" and making the entire office reel in disgust
The case of "Why does my swimming cap leave a mark on my forehead" from Cheryl turned into me calling her a "Fathead" all day long because I convinced her head was growing and she needed a new cap.

Today's topic was one that had me wondering. Most times I can make an educated guess on the answer and come to some realistic logic, sometimes with the aid of the almighty Google. But this time I was dumbfounded. Where has all the white dog poo gone?

It's strange that, I remember cranking up the lawn mower and aiming for a line of those ivory nuggets my dog's had left me. You would push the lawnmower a good few metres ahead of you just to see the cloud spring up to envelope all with the familiar sound of dried shit hitting blade (much like a pffft sound). I never did mind the white dog shit, picking it up was easier then what usually came out the rear of most beloved canines. I realise now why the hell did I have to go out into that damn lawn to pick it up in the first place, especially when the dog was marking it's own area most times away from any walking zone. But I suppose, the one chance you think you have overcome not stepping in shit, you decide to walk bare foot to get the clothing off the line. It's Murphy's Law.

So I was humbled to find no easy solution to this unexplained exodus. I Googled and Yahoo'd to find no expert opinion about said subject, only educated guesses. Good ones too, ones that you would take a person's word for if you asked them. But I was not swayed by hundred's of internet forum's littered with this unexplained phenomenon, this bizarre unanswered question, the demise of a cultural heritage conspiracy. Answers evolved from calcium overdosage to social trends, I kid you not. The evolution of a dogs social trend is a bizarre read.

It was not until I came across an article by Sarah Hartwell regarding Cat Food Uncovered in 2003. Yes my usual reading pleasure for the evening was drowned out by the rendering processes of pet food around the world, what really goes into that putrid dish you serve and which country has the better food label; http://www.messybeast.com/cat-food-industry.htm

But yet I only found part of this unexplained answer;

...The increase in vegetable protein (within pet food) is dramatically seen in dogs - the characteristic white dog turds of yesteryear are rarely found; they were caused by weathering of dog excrement rich in bone meal...

I dug deeper and found this from AlternativePetHealth.com - http://www.alternativepethealth.com/canine-diet.html

...Hey, there's even a "Raw Meaty Bones Lobby Group" in Australia, led by a veterinarian! They amusingly "advocate" "chalky white dog poo" (and cat poo) - the natural (and unstinky!) result of a natural canine or feline diet. And they advocate the importance of raw meat and bones as being the mainstay of the canine and feline diet....

So I had to track down Raw Meaty Bones Lobby Group. They were not just limited to Australia, they're worldwide now. Spreading the white poo gospel with pooper scooper in hand.

http://www.aussiermb.org.au/ - Australia
http://www.usrmb.net/ - United States
http://www.ukrmb.co.uk/ - United Kingdom

But this got me way off track and I was reading more about dog's health, the poop report website and about why I liked the smell of puppy dog breath so much. Still I was yet to find the elusive mad professor, veterinary report, or some lucky prick that got a government grant to research the honest truth. The answer to the question we all were looking for I suppose and that was - why were they white in the first place. Then by chance I came across this science forum. It was a mixture of both types of answers which I had found (oh and I found some bizarre ones too). http://www2b.abc.net.au/science/k2/stn/archives/archive53/newposts/450/topic450934.shtm

There are a couple of reasons why dog faeces might appear white. In the past, dog used home prepared foods which might have contained pieces of bone. Bone can cause all sorts of problems to dogs - from chipped teeth to scratched oesophagus. They can cause salmonella and constipation - forming a cement in the small intestine. Bone is also white so any chips in the faeces can make it look white. Today dog owners prefer to use a prepared food with a milk based calcium source so there are no bone flakes to make it appear white. The other reason for dog faeces turning white when left on the pavement is that mould starts to grow on it turning it white. The mould - a yeast takes about 3-4 days to grow and these days town and city councils tend to clean the streets more quickly than they used to, removing the faeces before the mould turns it white.

It's funny the things you remember from years passed disappear. There are many things we all take for granted, but yet were a part of our lives no matter how bizarre. We all remember the days of yesteryear with blissful amusement but society considers our future as a bleak landscape. Hopefully somewhere out on the horizon it has still got room for our canine's toiletry diets though.

Don't eat the yellow snow

2007-01-25T22:50:00.000+11:00

Looking out my window yesterday morning gave me strength to fight a little longer in London. Two weeks prior I was sitting on my stairs with my face in my hands trying to think of the most quickest way to escape England. I was literally depressed. Sunken and defeated, by being single in bars and growing envious of my friends around me in relationships, by drinking unknown quantities of alcohol to dull the boredom of seeing another bar, by sickness throughout the end of 2006 which had me becoming addicted to vitamin supplements, by starch and bland fruit and vegetables that are sold here, by knowing that my travel experiences had been somewhat non-existent in 2006, by the weird weather and why the hell had it not go cold and wondering if the world was nigh.

Strength and a smile when I saw the two inches of solid snow. Because it was only after finishing my religious monthly viewing of Withnail & I the night previously that I was standing at my window, complete buff naked except for the large overcoat I had on whilst smoking one of Lucky Strike's finest (yes Withnail & I does impress it's cult status on me), that I thought it was a little brisk outside. Looking to the heavens I thought maybe I could stand here and see the first snowflake fall. If it was not for the numbness of my extremities I could have.

Awaking in the morning in a rush of the usual "Shit Shit Shit, work work work." attitude that many of my housemates and girlfriends have lived with throughout the years, it was only until a quick look out the window after finishing the windsor knot in my tie that I realised London was going to be beautiful today. With a click of the heels and a race down the steps to pick up some snow and fling it at a passing bus was the only excitement I relished, that and the soft trudge of snow underfoot as it compressed into ice. The sound of ten thousand people wearing corduroy trousers all day long.

Alas today the snow has long gone, it's been forecasted for more, but I'm still happy that my extremities felt the first day of snow in 2007. My endless summer has truly ended.
Happy Australia Day for everyone back home too, I'll be celebrating in The Larrick at Putney Bridge this Friday after work with my smoking kangaroo!

Bebo

2007-01-23T02:58:00.000+11:00

Hello,

With increasing amounts of people blogging and filling up the billions of terrabytes with useless information. I decided another semi-blog needed to be maintained.

Due to this blogger being mostly text based angst and constant thought.

The new place holds recent pictures from my phone during a majority of the time - drinking excessive amounts of lager.

Enjoy

http://ZeeFoo.bebo.com

I know you don't love me - Roachford

2007-01-10T10:01:00.000+11:00

I'm packing up my bags now

Coz I can't take it anymore

Yes, I'm picking up my suitcase

And Im heading out the door

I know you don't love me

Don't look for me at school

Don't you look for me at friends

Next time that you'll hear from me

I'll be working for the man

Do you understand now

Father dont love

Brother don't love me

I know don't love me

Yeh you don't love me

(ahhh) x2

When you try to find me

Ill be nowhere to be found

If you really want me

You're going to have to hunt me down

No, you don't love me

It's true you don't love me

I feel you don't love me

[instrumental and chorus repeated]

It's amazing when you throw your music on random and it plays a song that brings back a lot of memories. I bought Roachford - Permanent Shade of Blue when I was in Year 11-12 ( 93-94). At the time Lay your love on me was hitting top of the charts, a catchy tune although quite pop and corny.

I bought the album to impress a girl I liked at the time who was raving on about it, yet I never impressed my secret romantic ideal of love to her because she was seeing someone else at the time (a good mate). Yet I kept the album, and it stayed and piled dust on it. Sure I listened to it a couple times. But, 93-94 was my Pearl Jam / Nirvana years and was nothing better to listening to back-covers and polishing off a bottle of beam while listening to Kurt Cobain strain his unique vocal chords towards the rear section of his famous and intimate unplugged album.

Roachford popped back up my life in 99 when a long lived destroying relationship collapsed, thus beginning my reign of terrible relationships since.

This song crept into a stable repeat mode, played over and over again. Like a desperate man clinging to the hope that some ideal of his life would be sorted out with these lyrics. The song itself is heartbreaking to listen to. Obviously it meant something to Andrew Roachford when he wrote them, because when it's sung, it's actually got meaning to it. Listening to someone else's heart-break sometimes makes you forget about your own.

People have these tunes which remind them of things past. I smiled when it came on tonight. It's good to remember when things get forgotten.

Who's Zat ?

2007-01-04T21:45:00.000+11:00

I grew up thinking I was Dennis Lillee on the cricket pitch. I use to think that the tennis ball needed a good rub against my crutch every time I went into bowl, never knowing why they actually rubbed their crutch with it. I found it more entertaining knowing that my older brother who had been knocking the living shit out, of my over of 40 balls, all over the damn pitch (the width of our street and the surrounding greener pastures) that he'll be soon be out with a yorker. Alas our rules were pretty simple.

No hooking the ball (luckily we were both right hand batsmen)
The caravan or cars parked nearby were 'silly' fielders thus if you hit it either on the full you were caught out
A nick behind stumps was an automatic out
The pitch itself was about one and half times longer than a normal pitch thus giving running out plenty of opportunity
Fielders were given the rights to place themselves and knew that a catch would put them at the crease (a white chalk outlying of old Gyprock)
Overs were classified on a mercy and give up - something along the lines 'Here James have a go."
All you need is three (a good number since there were 4 men in the family, a couple friends up the street and random walk-in's)

The team usually relied on good weather, a tennis ball which was well used, stumps (a very large green plastic 'Otto' bin about twice the size as regular stumps), an old bat which always had fresh red cricket ball cherries on it, and a decent amount of courage to last a couple hours of play.

Adam thought himself to be a little bit of a Don Bradman, obviously brought up on the family hysteria that our Pop (grandfather) was also a good batsman. I remember stories, usually highly exaggerated, about him being an anchor batsman (a batsman who would not go for the runs or glory but to make bowlers become demoralised because he would just step out and place the ball in the dirt at his feet) and actually being quite good at it. Alas the never-ending books about cricket cluttering into library, which I don't think he ever bothered reading too much (was too interested in the ABC radio, crosswords or a game of patience).

You would know you had a good bowling session. Your arm hurt, the runs were cheap and there was some very near 'outs' which had us all jumping on the spot, legs spread apart, crouched, hands in air, screaming -- 'Howzat!" at nobody in particular - quite possibly was our dog Ladie (Lad-EE) who would sit bewildered at this bizarre sport. I always knew if I placed the ball at Adam's feet he would step back thus giving a good angle to hit that enormous target of a wicket. However he would train himself to walk into the bowl when he caught me doing it, so I knew that I could probably bowl it every 1 in 10. James's way of bowling was interesting as if you decided to hit him all over the place, he would eventually start pegging the ball at you, bodyline style - amusing to see but if he didn't get a bat soon enough we would lose one of the three team members, thus stumps would have be dragged back up the driveway (not fun if the bin was very full).

I remember trying my hand at spinning once on Adam and I got him out on one such occasion with a very awe inspiring magic delivery. However I never could remember to imitate the bowl ever again, as my wrist would hurt like a bitch every time I did. So I resorted back to my Dennis impersonation, a stare back down the wicket, a scratch of the groin with the ball, a spit into the dirt, a bull's charge windup, and a run up which was at least 100 metres long and would have me panting so hard that I sometimes stumbled on the approach to bowl (way too much sugar when I was a kid). You need to get yourself out to a friendly cricket game once in a while and watch these sorts of things.

Given the retirement of an Australian legend come tomorrow at the SCG in which looks to be an Australian whitewash of the Ashes (let me remind you of my whimsical little jibe only a year ago about us losing them) it makes me realise how many of those kids with their own sets of rules will be imitating the greatest spinner of this modern era and not Dennis. I never liked Shane Warne off pitch via the media influence, but on pitch I could see the amount of pain the man has caused England over the years and it's very entertaining to watch, especially baring witness to 'That Ball' (and the if you'd like to refresh yourself - click me) on one fine day. So I can imagine those kids coming up with their own flippers, lazy balls and googoolee's to out-do their own brothers.

I realise that I'm always going to be a Dennis, because I know that the fat kids were the better spinners.

One stocking and no cheer inside

2006-12-21T02:34:00.000+11:00

A quiet interlude bounds up on an office which has been full of Christmas cheer for the last couple of weeks. I have been ill with a flu which has not gone away and even though amongst the office lights which give me migraines and the constant thought in my mind about the bitter coldness approaching us all in London, I have managed to find time to smile, laugh and make people laugh. We all like to think after a days work we all go home safely, we all go to our loved ones and smile about the day which has unfolded.

Unfortunately today is not that day.

What makes us human is when something effects us in some state. Something that encroaches on our comfortable lives and says to you in big neon lights 'You are not alone.' I look around work this morning and saw a few hang overs but smiles. A night beforehand of an office Christmas party where people had a very good time and recall the silly things to their colleagues of what happened. I'm still trying to take off the fantastic plastic which came out of the crackers and I managed to attach to my key ring last night, it was funny at the time, now it's annoying as it bulges in my right pocket. One of the bright green plastic sun's has already pinpricked itself a sketch in my leg. It's done within the amusement of Christmas cheer and endless bottomless wine glasses though, amongst your friends from work.

Unfortunately not even a smile can be made.

Think about the time you spend with your family at work. Because it does become a family. You entrust advice to these people you work alongside for months, years or a decade. You hear about their children growing up, maybe even lucky enough to have dinner with their family and thus returning the favour some day. You hear about the problems which happen, to divulge your illness and wearies, your vices and hates. You find yourself amongst these strangers you are thrown in the ring with each day. You find humour and your laughter is full of spirit. You are humbled and rejoiced at the beginning and ending of a week. Consider the forty plus hours you spend with this family per week and consider the endless other friends, loves and acquaintances you have passed through with over the years. Some you would wish to be still in contact with.

Unfortunately there is one now we cannot be.

I look at my boss now, who sits staring at a keyboard. I look at my colleagues around me who are finding it hard to work, to adjust to the shock which was unfolded to them only a few hours ago. I sit here angry. Angry that only last night I was joking with a man I use to call 'Monkey' in the amusement of his IT side-kick, who ironically enough I called 'Monkey' too. Monkey was a term I gave them because of their IT nature, they tested and ran the database we all used, they fix our problems and they are very sarcastic about it all. Monkey because when chocolate is around they climb over a desk to get to it. Monkey because both of their names are Mark. Only one Monkey remains today. A man crumbled at the thought of what happened to his colleague last night. Why he has not gone home is unknown to me.

Unfortunately we all share the burden of sorrow.

An evening ago, Mark who sat in the same Taxi as me and laughed with me and the other colleagues about the every day events of London, the haunts they used to go to while growing up and his wife refusing to drive at night because she thought she had 'tunnel vision'. He sat behind me while eating, turning occasionally to listen to part of a conversation or to add a little bit of the humour he liked to quip back upon. He left around 10pm, I don't even remember saying goodbye. Today at lunch the news of his death, a shock of pain, quiet whispers with tears and sobs, quiet footsteps followed by a hug, looks of despair and speechless expressions.

Unfortunately it becomes evident that we all think of his family before Christmas because unfortunately for Mark's kids their Santa won't be around this year.

I'm angry because he was killed.
I'm angry because I cannot find reason.
I'm angry because I feel human again.

The pole is leaving!

2006-12-06T04:25:00.000+11:00

Our dear house mate Maria breaks the news to us that she is leaving our abode to live in Cornwall, because she is in love. She is of course patching things up with her ex and they are going to start afresh down in the country. She has tried to get herself a job with the OT social services in Cornwall with no success, but alas this does not phase her, nor with her current management in London offering her lots more money to stay. She is in 'love'... I tell you!

Rose colored glasses ? Blind ? An overextension of thought which has melted into the synopsis of some utopian ideal ? Who knows really, I didn't want to really find out. Maria finally understands when I shake my head and walk away that I disagree and that there is no bother talking further with me about it, so she giggles whenever I do it. I could be everyone's biggest critic as well as my own sometimes, and with that comes bottomless opinions and sketchy hunches to come to final judgement which is more then usually pulled apart by Emily when she's in the room.

I came up with one assumption the other week that the wireless internet works better in the evening. I believed that since sound travels further at night (another baseless fact of months in wet jungles being silent and not alerting the enemy... well wasn't really any enemy but I was told there was and I had a rifle which had a name ... DIGRESS), that wireless would work better in evening. Hell I don't care about volumes of traffic throughout the day nor the abundance of alien activity during prime time television. I thought it was a good statement.

Point 1) due to the fact that Emily was having problems with it and was in way asking me to fix her laptop and two it was reminding me that Maria's laptop needed to be put on the household wireless network.
Point 2) cold beer and a good movie was playing... Over the Top - Sly Stallone. Yeh you know you love it too!
Point 3) I was assuming and when I do I'm always right .... dammit!

Emily with her wisdom cracks open her high school science book knowledge and says. 'So why do you think that is? Atmosphere?'

Now this is during a part in the movie when Sly and getting his son to arm wrestle, so it's a very pivotal point of the movie.

I throw the curve ball. 'Doesn't sound travel further during the evening.'

'So you think because sound travels further the night that the wireless works on the same principle? Wireless doesn't travel on sound though.'

The son run's out of the store crying and I've now missed him getting a whooping from the ginga kid who's been playing pinball, because he's a wizard. My voice goes a little up an octave looking for the beer and reaching for cigarettes.
'Ahhh yeh, why do you think you get better reception on television at night sometimes then during the day?'
I stand up, knowing I now have 5 minutes grace of adverts before Sly's son comes back and dislocates the ginga kids arm.

Emily half closes her laptop and winds up 'Well doesn't it work on a completely different principle.......' The door shuts behind me as I turn around, shake my head and light up.

I don't pretend to live in a bubble, and I sure as hell don't wish to know everything in life. I'm happy understanding and believing Luke's knowledge and misinforming the public around me sometimes. It's not like my life is going to be better off knowing the in's and out's of atmospheric pressure and traffic volumes of electronic data flying around my head. I'll leave that up to the lab rats who want to make everything smaller for me. Are people too educated these days to hear a good old yarn? If it looks like shit and if it smells like shit, it must be shit? True, but it could be something very else entirely since some chocolate I have smelt in Eastern Europe doesn't smell that great, thus a story unfolds.

I wish Maria all the very best luck down in Cornwall, but I did remind her of one thing, being an absolute realist.

'Remember Maria, shit happens though!'

Further reading information for the nerds : Testing a wireless network

ps. I named it Mary.

A kiss is just a kiss

2006-11-29T22:26:00.000+11:00

I've just grown accustomed to the ritual blessing of the European Hello to the femme whilst in London. The kiss on the cheek with a smile, not too wet and should really never be placed but exerted, a few times I have found my head slamming against the side of another girl (not my fault as they should never move). However, I am now noticing the slight turn of their head acknowledging they would like a secondary, usually also a sign that this lass is well out of your price range and will empty a wallet or two by the night is out.

I don't mind giving the ladies a kiss on the rosy red's, they usually talk to you after that, and we all know a lonely man in the bar with a scotch in one hand and looking lost is going to go home earlier than most. My experience in the Euro Kiss is getting to the point where I'm giving some good friends of mine a rub on the back as we go for the kiss on the cheek. Hell you say, a rub on the back you ponder, hey nobody told me the rules so I'm just making them up as I snog along. Do let me remind you all once again of my introduction to courting in London, was being inside a club and having my jewels squeezed by a number of women most of the night. I'd try to slip past them for another Scotch and Dry and no sooner as you could say 'How's the party' your tin soldier and drums are being manipulated into two wheels and an axle. So who knows give it another couple years and people be sniffing each others armpits or dry humping each others thigh. Buyers beware, the stupid people are out there wanting to create this bizarre Utopia.

I've digressed and nearly forgotten my whole subject.

No sooner had I got to grips with the kiss on the cheek, it's already moved up a boundary. I'm now getting kisses on the lips from girls. It isn't one of those French tonsil kisses like some of you guys might be thinking. But it's a quick peck on the lips, an evil sly grin from the banshee, and the more importantly the girls are initiating it. What is this some type of revolution, some hormonal imbalance currently going on with today's women, mistaking me for their boyfriend, who may I add is happily smiling oblivious (or maybe not, as it is quite possibly the hip thing to do at the moment) behind her waiting to shake your ... well no... hug you.

It usually only happens to me though with women I've known for a number of greetings. Maybe it's like a quota system. If I kiss them on the cheek for 10 visits I thus upgraded to two cheeks and a random peck on the lips.
"Excuse me do you have your rewards card, sir?"
I am a little afraid for the fact what happens when I run my quota up on that one. Will I need to carry my toothbrush with me?

"Hi Luke..."
"Hang on..." Toss in a TicTac, roll it around my tongue... have a squirl of mouthwash. "Okay, now you can say hello."

Where will this bizarre free love underground movement go. Will western men revolt and start kissing other men, they've been doing it for years in a number of places in the world. Will women catch onto the fact that my rub on there back will soon reach a slap on the ass? Do I really need to double kiss? Will there be inflated prices on fresh mints?

I'm all for the Venus taking the next step in the initiating ceremony of meeting Mars, but you're going to confuse a lot of those Martians if you start giving them a kiss on the lips and they eventually squeeze your Aphrodite!

Rorts, Jenga and being a hero!

2006-11-27T22:33:00.000+11:00

Sitting in the pub on Friday night - yes I know not much of a surprise. This is after of course I went to another pub with my work colleagues for a cheeky pint. I realise also that I need to go to a bar in Soho / Covent Garden area which is famous for it's Latin music. I look at my phone wanting to see the time and suddenly out of nowhere there is a child of about 8-9 standing right next to me.

It's a little chubby girl with a scarf wrapped high around her neck and her mouth struggling not to suffocate within it's woolen pink interior. I take a double take and wonder why the kid is here in a pub and secondly what the hell does she want from me.

'Scuz me, can you sponsor me.'

Now I'm about to dig for change asking her - 'Oh okay, what's it for.'

'Charity mista!'

'What Charity....' I scan the piece of paper she has outstretched to me and see name's of people and the amount of their donations. But the paper is bad quality photocopy and I cant even make out what charity, actually most of the writing is blurred. My hands stops.

'I don't think so... maybe you should photocopy a new piece of paper though.'

The girl doesn't flinch and walks onto the next table who cough up a few quid.

There are so many scams going on in London these days, you need to keep on your toes and read between the lines, so to speak. Seriously what parents says to a child to go down to the pub and get signatures at 9:30pm and ask for money. Probably the type of parent who says to the kid after saying that - 'When you get the money, buy me a carton of fags and get the milk!'

I hadn't caught up with Som for a few weeks. Supposedly I was to go to this farewell in Covent Garden, but I didn't get there. We sat around the pub drinking Guiness and Lager while playing board games. Chess, Checkers, Connect 4, Snakes and Ladders, but by far the one that we had the most fun with was Jenga! Building that stack of wood and then making an obscenely twisted tower of wood rafters while not knocking it across the table made my night. Som loves to make things top heavy I found out.
We retired onto a game of dink at the end of the night and my bottle top flew over his head and landed in a gentlemens beer on the table behind him. The poor guy was a little shocked as I went up to the bar and bought a new beer for him.... he then joined us for a game.

My weekend was very much a state of chores, washing and cleaning of which I didn't mind and of course having residents of Number 4 dragging me to their flat for a night of Guitar Hero and Vodka. Guitar Hero is toooooo much fun... I can see even my oldies getting into the game. Strumming notes on a plastic guitar while rocking out to Black Sabbath like an Ozzy groupie was too good not to miss when I was invited.

Apparently I'm the single man on the block and a few of the neighbours want to get me drunk.... There was one night at Lou's farewell (hope you are having fun back in Canberra mate) I found myself in an awkward place. I was ascotted back to one of the flat's to 'get some more mixer' and once arrived I was sat down on the sofa and set upon by lashings of tongue which I was forced to reject with quite a bit of upper body strength. The green light appeared when she said 'You want to play rough eh.... well I'll be right back to wrestle.' I nicked out the back door, jumped over the brick seperations of our back decks to return to the party. I've learnt to leave a number of the flats a little earlier due to infamous ascotting's happening.

Sam dropped around on Saturday to watch Russell Peters and catch up, which is always a pleasure entertain. When you ask Sam to 'Make yourself at home' he certainly does, to the point of leaving the toilet door open while he's pissing. Maria and Sam were introduced on a very long P Flat.

This morning I arrived into work with a sore throat, migraine and tooth ache.. but I realised I haven't updated with a day in the life for a while so here it is!! :)

Mental notes for all - if you can't think of a good Christmas present for someone;

Stand up comedian Russell Peters on DVD - Outsourced
Great documentary about wheelchair rugby - Murderball
The new Scissor Sisters album, followed up with the new Killers album
1 Game of Jenga + 1 Bottle of Whiskey = Suicide Jenga!
Guitar Hero for the PS2

Hope y'all well!

xo

A visual image

2006-11-11T02:39:00.000+11:00

Slicing chilli's for dinner...

Uncomfortable itch on the jewels..

Burning sensation ensues..

Pint of water..

Dunk them within..

Girl walks in room..

The conversation with my colleagues at work after explaining said situation was that one colleague would disown their boyfriend if she saw this scenario in said position and timing of discovery.

My response was -

"Well it would be nothing different, if I walked into the room and saw tit's in a bucket.."

Laughter breaks the monotony at work...

TGIF!

Australian blokes face up to change

2006-10-26T02:10:00.000+10:00

by Nick Bryant

In Australia right now, it is tough to be a bloke.

"I turned on my television expecting to see the Haka," said a crestfallen middle-aged rugby fan, describing a recent night in Melbourne when the All Blacks faced off against the Wallabies.

"Instead, I got I am Sixteen Going on Seventeen," he said.

The man in question, a sports-loving Aussie, was bemoaning the decision from one of the country's leading television networks.

Instead of showing the Bledisloe Cup - the South Pacific's most eagerly anticipated international rugby fixture of the year - it broadcast a re-run of The Sound of Music.

That decision came as Australians tried to come to terms with the loss of two great male icons.

Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin - that great larrikin of larrikins - and the more quietly-spoken Peter Brock, a peerless racing driver known as the King of the Mountain, who was to Australian motor sport what Lance Armstrong was to international cycling.

Though less well known than the Croc Hunter outside of Australia, "Peter Perfect" - as he was also known - was arguably held in higher esteem within it.

Like Irwin, he was killed doing what he was famous for, in his case driving his race car.

'Nervous wrecks'

Mateship, bravery, a towering self-confidence and a fearsome determination to succeed - both men personified the spirit of Australian masculinity.

But Brock and Irwin were part of an endangered species, according to Mark Latham, the former leader of the Labor Party, whose latest musings on the "crisis in male identity" have sparked a rare moment of blokeish introspection.

"One of the saddest things I have seen in my lifetime has been the decline in Australian male culture," Latham writes in a new book.

"Australian mates and good blokes have been replaced by nervous wrecks, metrosexual knobs and toss-bags."

Latham cited a number of factors: The rise of feminism (remember it was Germaine Greer, the Australian-born author of the Female Eunuch who launched a vicious assault on Steve Irwin in the immediate aftermath of his death); changes to the family and in the workplace; and what he considers the namby pamby neo-conservatism of the John Howard government.

The government's treasurer Peter Costello shot back immediately.

Only days after proving his own macho credentials by taking a supersonic ride in a Royal Australian Air Force fighter jet, Costello assailed those of Latham.

Since stepping down from frontline politics, he asked pointedly, had not the former Labour leader been a stay-at-home dad?

'Real change'

Of course, Costello could have levelled similar accusations against macho heroes Steve Irwin and Peter Brock.

Brock was a vegan, who had an intense interest in New Age-style spirituality.

And away from the cameras, Steve Irwin was a sensitive and profoundly emotional family man, who regularly told his father, Bob, that he loved him and how he cherished their time together.

Prime Minister John Howard would appear to be a staunch defender of a less complicated version of Australia masculinity.

When video tapes from Iraq surfaced recently, showing an Australian soldier pointing a pistol at the head of a man wearing Arab clothing [thought to be another Australian soldier], the prime minister played down the incident.

"Through the ages soldiers have let off a bit of steam, haven't they," he said. "The difference is that we now have videos and internets, we didn't 50 or 100 years ago."

Taking the temperature this morning at Bondi beach, that great bastion of Australian masculinity, there was a surprising degree of support for the transformation of Australian man.

"The death of the larrikin and bad manners is bloody wonderful," said retired stockbroker John Ray, as he stepped from the surf.

"It's good to see the demise of those attitudes which said women are expendable, and that you're no good unless you go down the pub every night and get smashed. Over the past 20 years or so, there's been a real change in blokes' attitudes."

But the female perspective was a little different.

"There's no demise of the macho male in my household," said Sue Shaw, the mother of a 19-year-old boy. "My boy loves rugby and cars. That said, he waxes his body, so he does display metrosexual tendencies."

Metrosexuality vying with retrosexuality. No wonder men are so confused, as they strive to achieve the thinking man's manhood

Discuss..........

12 years on..

2006-10-24T20:15:00.000+10:00

Educate yourself with the click of a button -

Rwanda

12 years on and only twenty-five ringleaders convicted since 1997 via a slow legal system. A tenth of the population died in 100 days....

Unlawful = Illegal doesn't it?

2006-10-20T19:33:00.000+10:00

It scares me when the world's superpower makes laws that most citizens do not know nor understand too much about. On October 17th, Junior, signed the Military Commissions Act 2006 - "to continue to question terrorists and save lives..." - was what he muttered in regards to new sanctions allowed for the CIA / US Military.

Sure if you read it you might get a little confused by its mixed mumbo jumbo, however there is quite a measurement to the definition of who is an 'unlawful enemy combatant' and who isn't, thus giving the power of authority to the military to decide.

This new law contradicts the age old Geneva Conventions, with the decision of the President in regards to the permanent detention and torture of detainee's. So lets say you get picked up by the U.S military as an unlawful combatant, there is no justification for you, hopefully as an innocent bystander, to say that you are not. So you could be detained, not be legally represented by a civil lawyer due to the military nature of the law and find yourself possibly three years down the track still not knowing what the hell happened. Have a read Hamdi v Rumsfeld .

Why you ask, my concern about all this. The representation the USA has with (or over) its allies is a somewhat a big brother role. I would not be surprised the guinea pigs of some of the allies, and unfortunately I will say even Australia, could follow with a similar law. It is not bringing things into order, it is creating a central government controlled atmosphere.

But you're going to shrug your shoulders anyhow, unless of course you could be that one in a thousand people who this law may effect by.

Did the act of terrorism in western soils bring down the meaning of democracy and freedom?

Further reading material;

Comparison on Iraq and Vietnam

Re-assessment of Baghdad security

Appeal Lost

Now in this wake of certain US and UK soldiers I have met and know heading to or from Iraq it just makes me wonder where will this all end? A withdrawal is likely yes, but it's still all about infrastructure for the US and securing oil deposits.

Reminds me of a game that I play. With all the stupidity and one sided argument and struggle on who wants to or can lead, on top of who will follow you. You hope to come out with a small victory at the end of the day. But unfortunately I feel like I play on the side of the Iraqi's in this game, because the innocent ones are the forgotten ones and they then become the victims.

It isn't winning heart's and mind's anymore to the US government, it's about killing martyrs and drilling mines.

Compliment?

2006-10-19T03:12:00.000+10:00

I have some weird friends. I love them so, but after reading this little email to me, I felt a little disturbed by it all. Having flashbacks to Clerks 2 - "Hey Fucko .... it's Inter-species Erotica!"

Lightbringer

There is a Horse of the name LUKAS and he is very popular especially now for breeding. His offspring do very well so much so that in breeding season, he "has" to be collected from often daily. This clever process is no more than useing a tease mare to entice the fella,then manually stroke and work him untill climax.A collection unit is the tough part. They needed a feel-good slide on fake vagina to give the guy the best experiance, as they would be asking him tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow again. After dollars they made a horse size lifelike latex 2 chambered special - end- expanding receptical. It felt soft,had a nice grip on the outside, and in use the cylander was lined with very warm water and worked just so. It seemed to feel just like the real thing. And it worked very very well.So much so that they patented a human size version, too.
They call it the" Fleshlight"
Lukas, lightbringer!

For people just staring awkardly - Luke does mean the bringer of light.... it shines out of my arse three times a day!

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

2006-10-13T22:36:00.000+10:00

If you had this, you would lock yourself in your room and take a dose of sleeping pills and hope that the 14th came quicker.

Where does one get themselves to be frightful of a certain thing.

This is a interesting article relating to fears and phobia's - something to add to your useless information brain bank.

Stop the press!

2006-10-12T21:15:00.000+10:00

Writing 400 words is sometimes a very impossible task for some. But I tend to write up to a thousand words when the steam is released from my head. So when I see an opportunity for a little bit of freelance work within a newspaper, I jump at the chance, have a read of some of my old entries and see which ones would get a smile from someone reading said trash about my infamous exploits.

Sure it's a little bit of an amusement to get yourself published in a paper, and sure you could think of your hopes being raised that a prospect is delivered soon after. Toying with the idea of re-working my 3 score minus one post, I managed to cut down a good 500-600 words before i re-read it again and thought that it would probably has lost all possible vitality if i did any more, that and it looked completely naked and bare from any entire thought.

So now I have to await and put myself back on the boil again until my next ejaculation of confused steam is released.

I bet you thought dirty thoughts when I wrote 'ejaculation' - didn't you!?

Defining your music genre

2006-10-05T23:17:00.000+10:00

Wow...

Updating the http://www.blogger.com/www.music-map.com which I have been using on and off for years to discover some new music. My boss comes up to me and shows me this brilliant link to a great avenue to find new music:

www.pandora.com

Not only will it create a personalised radio station for you that will play a number of songs but it will link it to similar music. So if you put in the band or even a song title it will link it to users worldwide who vote if they like or dislike the song which links to it (which you can do with the simple pop up boxes of thumbs up, thumbs down). Not only this, but it gives you a synopsis of bands, songs and links to other similar music.

The only drawback is that it will only play (full length mind you) about 6-7 songs before it cuts out because of licensing laws, however you can easily refresh it or click on one of the songs you have heard to open up another radio station.

Certainly worth the look and most definately worth the bookmark for people at home surfing.

Formula

2006-09-23T02:49:00.001+10:00

The energy you create throughout a day which encourages an optermistic outcome of what may have been found, comes down to a basic solution about making a decision.

Remembering the innocent

2006-09-15T03:03:00.000+10:00

Sitting down with the house-mates and watching Fahrenheight 911 brought many a thought back to my melon in regards to the world at hand. I have been too busy with my own thoughts to actually sit and watch what is going on and remember about how worse off I could be. It was good to remember that the world's superpower is still being lead by a bunch of monkey's dragging behind the carcasses of their allies.

I thought to myself after watching it and then clicking over to the counter in Iraq at the moment. Why is it that the only reason they decided to invade Iraq was because of the 'WOMD' word. You could of sat through the entire harvest of this political scam on CNN (the USA government propaganda machine) with some friends and bottles of spirits and drink yourself into a stupor every time WOMD was pronounce or the security threat-o-meter popped up.

So they invaded Afghanistan because they thought BL was holing up there. Found nothing, so Junior rings his dad and gets the nod of approval to walk in his footsteps to destroy Iraq and create it again in his image. Strange how Halliburton is pulling in contracts left and right to secure the 'reconstruction of the nation's reserve' - in other words dipping there bucket into the second richest oil reserve and pulling up black gold by the cubic assload.

I read with interest at as Saddam goes back to trial, with or without his hunger strike (you do know he was hooked up to tubes because he wouldn't eat), and it suddenly occurred to me. Why did Junior just say he was invading Iraq because of the genocide Saddam had caused within his 23 years of power. We won't say who put him there in the first place, nor backed him. Why would they back him? Natural resources!

You would think if the President was standing addressing his nation and said instead of WOMD the word genocide that not only the nations of around the world would back him, but possibly the people within Iraq to some degree. But who know's as it's turning into a religious thing now with the Shia's.

Anyhow - I came across this site, it's updated by a young woman in Iraq about the political agenda and life in Baghdad. Her point obviously quite bias but also realistic with a touch of humanity to it. http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/

If Bush was going on his genocide cleansing why not roll into parts of South America, South Pacific Islands or better yet - take on Africa next.... but I'm afraid I don't think he knows where that place is because they don't have much ... natural resources to 'protect'.

When will this Vietnam end?

The crocodiles are crying

2006-09-07T20:16:00.000+10:00

THE CROCODILES ARE CRYING

Endless visions fill my head - this man - as large as life
And instantly my heart mourns for his angels and his wife
Because the way I see Steve Irwin - just put everything aside
It comes back to his family - it comes back to his pride

His animals inclusive - Crikey - light the place with love!
Shine his star with everything he fought to rise above
The crazy-man of Khaki from the day he left the pouch
Living out his dream and in that classic 'Stevo' crouch

Exploding forth with character and redefining cheek
It's one thing to be honoured as a champion unique
It's one thing to have microphones and spotlight cameras shoved
It's another to be taken in and genuinely loved

But that was where he had it right ' I guess he always knew
From his fathers' modest reptile park and then Australia Zoo
We cringed at times and shook our heads - but true to natures call
There was something very Irwin in the make up of us all

Yes the more I care to think of it - the more he had it right
If you're going to make a difference - make it big and make it bright!
Yes - he was a lunatic! Yes - he went head first!
But he made the world feel happy with his energetic burst

A world so large and loyal that it's hard to comprehend
I doubt we truly count the warmth until life meets an end
To count it now I say a prayer with words of inspiration
May the spotlight shine forever on his dream for conservation

...My daughter broke the news to me - my six year old in tears
It was like she'd just turned old enough to show her honest fears
I tried to make some sense of it but whilst her Dad was trying
His little girl explained it best...she said “The crocodiles are crying”

Their best mate's up in heaven now - the crocs up there are smiling!
And as sure as flowers, poems and cards and memories are piling
As sure as we'll continue with the trademarks of his spiel
Of all the tributes worthy - he was rough...but he was real

As sure as 'Crikey!' fills the sky
I think we'll miss ya Steve...goodbye

RUPERT McCALL 2006

Back to the norm

2006-09-07T04:20:00.000+10:00

Finally have got internet connection at home and suddenly found a good deal of writing which has been needed to be typed up; so hopefully some of it can be done over the next couple days.

Forgiveness

The cold feet on concrete makes one realise, alone on a balcony overlooking a concrete jungle, that how obnoxious you have just been. Along with the obscurity and bizarre anxiety that you hear about the prospects ahead. Breaking someones heart in a split second of obtuse behaviour, you suddenly realise how precious one's thoughts are again.

This is learning that you have become selfish and somewhat twisted, however still sane that your behaviour is you.

-----------------------------------------------------

Untitled

Crazy Women, Crazy Women

Surrounded by those dames.

Misfortunate dreamers.

Seeking infinite fame.

Pain in my gums

An ache in the head

Wanting to eat more

Until I can be no longer feed

Without the torment

There's a cavity

To feel again

Screaming from the depravity

-----------------------------------------------------

Conversation and mishaps

There's twenty things that are thought of within a mismatched process of conversation. They are all unique thoughts which delve into complex and paranoid emotions.

Sometimes I think of just striking out and want to sock the poor fool talking. The conversation itself could be very innocent, than all of a sudden a wave of aggression overcomes me to hurt. I'm sure a certain psychological complex.

Is it like when you drive a car and know one quick tug of a wheel you could side swipe the guy next to you or be involved in a head-on collision at your fault.

Is it like standing on a cliff-face enjoying the view or much more commonly in London on the edge of a underground track with an approaching train arriving. Which rail is the electrified one, always springs to mind though. Watch your back though, as you get the sense of paranoia thinking that you might get pushed from the overcrowding.

It's not the thought of aggression or violence, I think it's unused adrenaline.

Maybe I need to find a hobby.... or a shrink.

-----------------------------------------------------

Song

Six months had passed

Pain locked away in her head

Of crying out in the night

Dreaming of shadows in her bed

She kissed those lips

A hundred score

That time not yet forgotten

She would taste a hundred more

She she sung

Oh Lord, how can see

Oh Lord, where can I hear

Oh lord, I want to believe

The end of this is near

-----------------------------------------------------

Reply to Gina

Music to me in London is that no matter where you are, nor what you are doing, you are a part of it. A purchase of an IPOD and all the tunes stored from home makes you feel at peace. But when you go to a concert, a band, a day out in a field of grass with some of your best friends, you become more at home and remember the day with smiles.

The people you mix with give you their music. In turn you give that music to someone else who also appreciates. In part, we become this beautiful web of life and laughter once again.

Point of, when you stand on the tube in London's underground and the music you may remember at home with a friend talking about time passed or here in London listening to a radio station from the car next to you. The love of music in London has no boundaries, nor would the love of music elsewhere on your travels.

It should have been you

2006-08-29T19:44:00.000+10:00

People make out lists when they have the decision of returning home cross their mind. We all go through a ritual cleansing and renewal thinking of the prospects that you may return to back home have washed away since you left that eon ago.

There is reasons why people spend long times away from their birth home, family and friends they have grown up with. Usually it's travelling and coming in a close second is career prospects. But when you talk to people over here and they ask you how long you have been in London or even how long they have been, there is sometimes always an underlying process and thought of the reason of not returning as quickly as the working holiday visa specialists.

My decision to not return as sooner than later was confirmed this morning, although saddened by it, I was also relieved. Relieved in the instance that someone else is happier and better off and saddened that I was not there at the time.

Every month I have the pleasure I knowing someone returning or I have now spinned the term 'rotating back to the real world'. This is usually a horribly long drinking affair on a Saturday night in some place expensive and usually with you trying to crack onto the lamp shade at the end of the night. I've been blessed with meeting so many people here and hopefully blessed on my farewell, or should I say 'rotation', from London that I will be sharing it with some great friends who have obviously then outlasted me.

Mick returns home in a few weeks time. Back to South Australia. Louise returns home a month later with Lou hot on her heels two weeks later. This leaves me with a loss of neighbours. On a brighter note though, Brad returned last Monday and I believe Ben got back into the country for a couple of months yesterday. This Saturday will be filled with the other exciting long drawn out process of welcoming people back to London. This is lovingly coined as 'The Second Coming'.

My second coming has come and passed and for the first time this morning I have regretted it. I have time running out on a visa which I can renew, but for reasons which are never beneficial. Given the opportunity that would question my return then I would renew it, but that opportunity has not come about.... yet.

I have what I need here, and I know what I need when I return. The balance of having both is what I will find eventually.

A dog is a dog

2006-08-14T23:14:00.000+10:00

"I'm going to name my dog... Come 'ere" Mick says.

Now Mick is the spitting image of Eric Bana and sounds like him during his Chopper movie - and yes he does an impersonation when we get him drunk. Mick is one of the neighbours - Flat 4 to be precise. I'm standing in Flat 2's balcony with Lou (one of the residents of Flat 2) discussing what we usually do on an evening.... absolute bollocks. I think I've been blessed with the best neighbours in London, as they all are friendly and have a wicked sense of humor.

"How's that?" says Lou.

"Well I just want to name my dog... Come 'ere." Mick looks over our shoulders and starts to role-play.

"Oi! Come 'ere..." Tapping his thigh "Come 'ere!!!!"

He bends down and pats his imaginary dog. "That's a good boy.. arhhh"

He motions to shoo the dog away and then says, "Get outta it!" while waving his hands around, presumably the dog is getting into something it shouldn't "Oi!! Get outta it!"

Lou slips in with a wink and sly smile "So... that's when your other dog comes bounding over?"

It's ingenious comedy material that I have been part of, listening to and laughing hysterically with.

It popped up the other day

2006-08-08T20:41:00.000+10:00

From the "Robert's Rules of Order" website... http://www.robertsrules.com/faq.html#4

Question 6:
Do abstention votes count?

Answer: The phrase "abstention votes" is an oxymoron, an abstention being a refusal to vote. To abstain means to refrain from voting, and, as a consequence, there can be no such thing as an "abstention vote." In the usual situation, where either a majority vote or a two-thirds vote is required, abstentions have absolutely no effect on the outcome of the vote since what is required is either a majority or two thirds of the votes cast. On the other hand, if the vote required is a majority or two thirds of the members present, or a majority or two thirds of the entire membership, an abstention will have the same effect as a "no" vote. Even in such a case, however, an abstention is not a vote. [RONR (10th ed.), p. 387, l. 7-13; p. 388, l. 3-6; p. 390, l. 13-24; see also p.66 of RONR In Brief.]

Finding a friend

2006-07-21T21:52:00.000+10:00

"It's got to be the worst decision you've had to make, you usually come down to just picking out one little thing about the person and decide or not decide on that."

These words I have heard from a few people when I was looking for a place to live and feeling as though I was going through a complete interview process to show I'm a normal person to live with. Walking into these flats and houses and thinking to yourself, what can I do or say to impress them? Then leave you're thinking what did I say or do that made them think that I wasn't good enough. Paranoia sets in and you usually need to get a cigarette and beer down you. You continue this over a week or two long period doing this interview process and it can be quite a stressful environment filled with mixed emotions, bubbly fake smiles and complete lack of control to tell somewhat or any truth to people. 'Just being yourself' does not work!

Corinne, has decided to move out with her boyfriend at the beginning of August. Now I'm quite happy with this decision of hers. It's not because she is a yank, but mainly because her boyfriend stay over 5 out of the 7 days of the week living out of her pocket and soaking up the atmosphere in the flat. Well this is what I was told by Dee when I took over his room. Corinne is a great lass, quite bubbly and talkative, she is studying her MBA and she has just landed herself a first job. But to say also that her mother and father pay her way in London and she is a bit of a student bum and sits around all day at home and when Ash (her boyfriend is there) they consume an enormous amount of takeaway and produce volumes of rubbish. But also to say, I get along with most people and as soon as I arrive I stamped my imprint into the communal area by changing the furniture around, cleaning out the shed full of rubbish and getting the landlord motivated to do things.

In short Corinne is leaving and last night myself and Emily (the other housemate) were interviewing.

Originally the discussion was to have another girl in the house, one because they are clean and two because, well it's another girl, and I'd rather that. Last night we saw 3 girls and 3 guys. A complete analytical comparison was formed later that night and it somehow ended with me getting fed up about it all and just saying how it is.

Contestant number 1 - MARIA - Colleague of one of Emily's friends. Polish. 33 . Occupational Therapist.

Pro's -

Polish, I didn't want another Aussie - and she speaks very good english.
Single (nothing against the whole relationship theory, but I'd rather the person being single after Corinne's escapades)
Has furniture she can move in
Would love to help make the flat a home
Smart, interesting and able to hold a conversation

Con's
Age difference - I don't mind to much
Occupational Therapist - I don't mind but Emily is one as well and doesn't want to talk 'shop' when she gets home
Recently split up in a four year relationship - emotional instability, may not wish to socialise
Could be a quiet, homely person (we were looking for someone outgoing like us)

Contestant number 2 - JANE - English, 22, Speak and Lingo Therapist

Pro's
Outgoing and easy to talk to
Would like to help make a home
Has friends in the area (ie. nobody dossing on the floor)

Con's
Has a boyfriend
He lives close by
Maybe too young as it's her first job in London

Contestant number 3 - TOBY - Kiwi, 27, Town planner

Toby got a big no straight up from me - Emily said he was pretty laid back. I agreed and went on to say I think he was a little too laid back for my liking.

Contestant number 4 - JAMES - Aussie (Melbourne), 26, Computer programmer

I didn't mind this guy after a while, but Emily gave him a No because of some gut reaction. So I went with the woman's intuition.

Contestant number 5 - ROWAN - Welsh, 25, Chippie (Carpenter)

Pro's
Welsh
Quiet but easy going and soon warmed up
Single

Con's
Might keep to himself
Male
Works contract and could move out in 3 months time

Contestant number 6 - Kelly - English, 24, Account Manager for Lastminute.com

Pro's
Works for Lastminute.com (mates rates)
Enjoys a good laugh and quite bubbly and wants to help do up the flat
Ladette and probably will get along with neighbours easily
Single

Con's
Maybe too talkative and could become annoying
Might be too much of a ladette

You may have guessed who you would have picked. But those pro's and con's are short and when we discussed things we went into much detail about how they answered some of our questions and then all we could do was assume a guess or come up with a reason. There wasn't someone who I thought 'Yes, perfect' which didn't help. When it hit midnight and I realised I've been discussing these people and getting stressed about it, especially when Emily couldn't decide on anyone that she like.

"Right for fuck sake, this is driving me nuts! Em... you know what I'm not thinking about this anymore, knowing we have 3 more people this weekend coming to look. I'm going to say Maria, because she had furniture she could put in here and she had a bread maker!" I said

"But...." Emily replies.

"La La La La..." I said walking out the door with fingers in my ears, up the stairs and into my bed.... and sleep.

Yet we have 3 people (maybe more) this weekend to look at the room and we will probably be going through the same process. Living with people can form the best of future relationship, memorable times which you relive throughout life, food you have never eaten before, a humbling effect on ones self and to see people in there most primal of states. House sharing has been such an experience for me, and I have grown to love it. Coming home from work and knowing that one of the housemates are home, or a friendly neighbour, you both relax and wind down. There are no rules to each others life's - both independent of each other, but both earthed to the one location. So when you do decide to look around for a stranger to move into your house to share your thoughts, laugh, watching boring TV, help out with the cleaning, get things done, get really drunk with and hopefully meet up some day in the future again.

Remember that the hard decisions in life usually come down to a very simple solution.

A bread maker.

Three score minus one

2006-07-01T02:51:00.000+10:00

Walking into the last year of my twenties I come to realise a few things.

Number one is that I'm thirty next year, number two is that I'm entering my thirties and number three I'm considered that little bit older by most because I am in my thirties.

So my twenty-ninth is going to held on one of the hottest days in London (of which the ever for-seeing eye of the BBC Weatherman has foretold) amongst what looks to be strangers, celebrating someone elses birthday. Would this be considered that I'm in gatecrashing someone's birthday? Thus once that is finished - say 3:30pm I will be heading to a bar to watch the England versus Portugal game. What would be a better present for me I wonder? England loss or England win? Even though the table is tipped towards the Brazilians to win another star on their jersey I do hope the pom's can pull another World Cup under their belt by getting through versus Portugal who has put nails into their coffin before. But lets be honest about the English, they are miserable gits and need a perk up.

As I sit on the sixth floor of one of my companies office blocks in the heart of the financial district of London, overlooking the antique obelisks of other buildings and the relic of St Paul's Cathedral (of yet that I have crossed its pious threshold). I wonder to myself about life past as I process the contracts of the capitalistic pork bellies and corporate lap dogs with there obscene annual income and bonus's. Maybe it's the glistening side and underbelly of a jealous outlook and the green tint of envy. Enlightenment that although my life is constrained at present it has still yet to bloom. Knowing that when I come to the fork in the road I could pursue the undertow of being a wealthy linchpin or content in some other fond outlook which I cling onto and remind myself and other people. It is asked of me often of my future plans and the retort is usually;

"You want to hear the long or short plan?"

Of which most replies are usually with a feigned interested and sly smirk;

"Long plan..."

The usual ramble is well known now and usually ends with me saying after 10 minutes of extensive vocabulary labour;

"...that's me in a nutshell."

I know what I am doing will be extensive for thy career when I rotate back to Australia, so I jest now and in 6 months time it may be less than jovial.

Let us move on and try and recap what you may have missed while I have been living the dosser's life here in London. It has been a month and I am yet to sleep in a bed, but alas I move into a room on Sunday, in Clapham Junction, and thus the strain my back will be relieved.

I have been to a number of parties while back here and they seem to not have changed from the debauched, cess-pools, and sweat infested walls since I left. The common trait of many is to stay until the sun rises and I am yet to get home beforehand yet. You stay along for the ride and hope that something interesting may evoke itself, by the similarities of water and wine, or you may just settle for chalk and cheese. I'm usually bedazzled by the stirring of hunger and one too many crude woman wanting far more than a talk about herself. Thus I leave and make the long or short journey home, dependant on if I know the area or not, lost adventures are somewhat fun.

One such adventure posed significance last weekend, being tracked down by the party organiser and being asked if he could pass my number onto a lass I allegedly conversed with. Painting you a picture to familiar, you go to these things, you mingle and you usually become intoxicated that the memory and discussion of your repressed thoughts is lost along with the face, gender and time you mentioned it. I felt benevolent and approved the transaction of contact details. Now I haven't been looking for any said female in London, but I was intrigued what the hell I said to have someone track me down, due to the fact I cannot possibly remember the night in question anyhow.

Come Tuesday I was invited to her house for dinner. To cut a long story short, after thirty (that lucky number again) minutes I was ready to leave. We had established that I spoke of many different things that evening of which;

- Cancerian
- Was dressed as Superman (was a fancy dress and I went as Clark Kent)
- Just got back from Australia and working in central London
- Lived in a suburb she visited when she was in Sydney (ie. Wollstencraft)
- And had size 13 shoes

It was scary that she remembered all that, and worried me that I did not recall it.

Firstly she has two cats, I don't mind cats, but I do mind if there bed is the only couch you are sitting on and your suit which you were hoping to wear tomorrow is now cover in a good layer of cat hair after thirty (that number again) seconds. I laughed about it with her, even though the image of swinging the cats around by their tails was what I was laughing about. The conversation dipped and dived like the Exon Oil stocks in 1995. Soon she was talking about wanting babies because she was also thirty (ahhhh a subtle reminder) next year.

"When do you want to have babies?" I asked, as I know this conversation is quite evident with most single ladies I meet these days. The natural clock is tock-ticking and their fear of gravity and conformist attitude to the way society should look will see them as a spinster.... with their cats.

"As soon as possible." She said, sipping the cheap but delicious Australian wine I love to buy over here. It was a Lindemans. Did you know a 3L cask of Blackrock is £17.50 here, work that out in Australian and you are buying a cask of Blackrock Chardonnay for nearly $40au, when I know I bought a similar one for about $12 when I was back in Sydney... I've digress.

Now the as soon as possible opens up avenues of slight amusement and understanding along with the fear of becoming someone's incubated sperm count for there frozen eggs. "Oh like in a year or so?" I asked.

"Well, the thing is, if I see a guy, I'll know within I a week if I want a baby with him."

My cough and struggle with swallowing the crimson was audible, along with the reach for my bag with my foot to bring it closer to me for a quicker get away. I hummed and looked at the watch on my wrist, realising I haven't worn a watch for ten years, then realising ten years ago I was eighteen going on nineteen and probably would be reacting the same way if a girl said this to me. I left shortly afterwards vowing that the situation unfolded was a small nightmare I am yet to contend with, but a situation I would want with someone I love first.

So I decided after Tuesday that women in London are evil spawn wanting my seed and I am to keep well clear of them. My reasons in general why I went to dinner;

- I was intrigued into why she wanted to track me down and what I said
- I had £15 (rent + deposit on room = a lot of £ ) to my name and she said she was cooking, which resulted in my spending nothing for dinner
- I wanted to remind myself that life is still strange, and strangers have some life

We all end up in the funny predicaments and it's amusing consequences with the sporadic episodes of life that it persists on playing. Like old 'Married with Children' re-runs, that you remember once was amusing to watch, but now, society has changed and the act is dull, lifeless and unrehearsed.

To being twenty-nine....

Cheers to all my friends and family who are sending me their love today and tomorrow.

I did it my way

2006-06-13T05:01:00.000+10:00

A sigh of relief spread's across my body and tears well into my eyes. I knew that I was going to be in for a struggle when I got back here with finding work, but I did not think I would land myself something that I actually wanted.

It's like when I walk into a shoe store, I know I cannot have any shoe in the place because of my large grip on the Earth, so I just say to the salesperson 'Show me what you got in the size 14'. Unfortunately for UK well all the shoe sizes go up to 12 and I'm left ordering them in from the internet or something.

Anyhow, I landed work for the next nine months in St Pauls with a large Japanese investment bank. So other then having to wear a suit and tie each day (yes I don't mind looking like I a million dollars) it isn't too bad.

I'm now trying to find myself a room to live in, affordable and spacious. Really don't know if those two words are viable in London yet, but we'll see.

Anyhow weather here is great and I'm hoping to be sorted and settled in for the rest of the Summer by early July.

Just watched a documentary on Matt Munro... I think maybe my mum would be the only person to know who he is.... so I've been singing like Sinatra all evening.

Meet & Greet

2006-05-21T03:21:00.000+10:00

On my way out the door soon, I'll try and update on the finer qualities of meeting people these days.

Over the last couple of weeks with what is left of the London Connection of lad's that I regularly mingle with there is only but a quad. Sam, Dee, Horse and I and by far I've had some great times with them in the course of 2 weeks than my whole experience last year. Coming back I realized I missed the way they talked and expressed themselves in such an open and positive manner.

Sam by large is the instigator of many the open conversation, he likes to talk with an icebreaker about how his testicles were twisted when he was wrong and explains in detail the gruesome operation he needed for the repair down below on the old Jatz, this is just one of Sam's stories and I can't wait for his new one as I have heard he's having a Colonic Irrigation on Friday coming.

These conversations are very entertaining and makes everyone laugh hysterically at Sam's misfortunate/fortunate/bizarre or whacked incident(s), but he does impact on how people actually converse from then on. A layer and boundary of self awareness is dropped and people, often strangers and randoms start talking like how people should to each other without the closed circuit of random conversation that is presented when you want to get to know people (eg. work, this week and the weather). I've taken many a leaf from Sam's book in the way I approach, obviously not to the high level of speaking openly about mishaps with my genitialia but just breaking ice where it should be, with an amusing story about myself.

I remember reading a book many a year ago (note to self to track down author and bookname for any interested) and it was somewhat a self-help to autobi of the author and he explained that some days during the week he wears a little cap with a propeller on it and walks to work and he describes the looks he gets and people that laugh at him. He went on to say that by making someone smile or laugh at one of your actions in the morning made his day a whole lot better, I never entirely knew what the action meant until recently.

We all can be so self absorbed, but by demonstrating that we can laugh at ourselves makes other people open, friendly and so more damn entertaining at parties at 3am.

Your homework this week is to tell someone a funny story about yourself, maybe one that you don't really want to own up to it.

A true entertainer is the one that believes he doesn't need an audience to perform.

A eve into the week

2006-05-15T19:40:00.000+10:00

Returning to an object of desire gives that romantic feeling you had once thought was the only thing to do. Sitting staring at the blank wall when you have realised the object to possibly be somewhat a false idol makes you wonder about the right or left fork in the road which may have been taken. The choice is made and you're left watching re-runs of movie's and the current disposition that the possible horizon could be optermistic. The laughter has subsided and the random conversation is now a blur of last night. The seat could be more comfortable and the bed more alluring however the outlook of this eve and tomorrow's endeavours has that sense of fruitfulness. Addiction on the table alongside change from your pocket. Thoughts colliding with the long list of inevitables and choices. The journey is beginning.

The question of why

2006-05-10T21:57:00.000+10:00

I'm sitting bloodshot eyed in front of Sam's computer and feeling happy and saddened in some respect to be in London. The sun is shining outside and birds are making a fine tune, which would make anyone arriving for the first time that England has always been like this, unfortunately the season's do vary, like the inhabitants mood swings.

The flight here was blurry to say the least, I spent my trip from Sydney to Hong Kong shacked up in the small gallows of the kitchen asking for hand outs of whiskey, talking to random people at seldom intervals, reason I am usually there is some bastard had just reclined his/her (this case it's a woman) onto my knees and crushed them to pulp, obviously my faint muffled pain and curse does not distract them (usually they have their headphones plugged in).

I speak to one guy who is trying to talk to me while I am flagged the stewardess for my third whiskey.

"Service is pretty bad on this flight, I've had better service on BA." He says. Now when someone opens a sentence of introduction to me with a whinge, they usually don't get to much of an answer from me. I find that they have something more to whinge about other than the service of the cabin crew who is running nonstop around to a very packed plane. The young Chinese lady 'Vivien' smiles as I raise my empty glass and goes off to get another whiskey for me. I don't get drunk on airplanes, I just stand still, bend and stretch and quietly return to my seat to hopefully fall comatose and not caring about the sudden pressures asserted on my lower legs.

"Where you headed?" An open ended question this time, which I know I'm going to be stuck talking to this guy for the next 20 minutes. I don't mind as that's probably another whiskey to intake.

"Back to London, been in Sydney since December and heading back over to possibly finish off my ancestry visa in October next year." I like cramming as much into the answer because it usually does not tend to have more individual probing of questions from the 'random' which will digress from the extraordinary to the often bizarre.

We discuss what he does in Sydney, talk about land in Sydney and how all this new land is going up, about water restrictions and recycled water (Les works for Sydney Water as a Civil Engineer), a funny story about his wife’s European business and his two twin daughters (yes I even got to see a photograph of them in his wallet). Now friendly conversations on a plane should end at that, but then it got personal. He asked me about if I ever have heard of Landmark. Perusers not knowing of Landmark - it's a seminar for people who need to find some order in there chaotic lives. Lindsey did it last year and told me all about it (actually never shut up about it), asking me to go, as it changed her life and the way she actually thought. Being sceptical of these things I decided to miss out on the opportunity of letting strangers know my skeletons, but praised Lindsey on her achievement.

Now he's asked me if I knew about it - surprisingly I gulp the last bit of whiskey and Vivien is already walking passed and I ask for two this time as Les 'wouldn't mind one, but don't tell the missus'. I tell Les that I know of it, a friend went through it and it seems like a great thing for people to do, to get to know themselves, and that I have heard nothing but praise about Landmark. He explains his encounters and I nod away and he asks why I didn't attend.

"Well I don't really think I had too much time then, I was going through a rather weird time myself when my friend asked me to go. Maybe I should of went but I just didn't." I said.

"Well that's your bullshit story, funny how people have to come up with a reason on why they didn't do things. You could of went, but you needed to give me some bullshit excuse not to go, like you were too busy or..." Les's tone changed and it seemed a little accusing, I was caught wondering where it came from but now I know reflecting on it that he was testing me, I stood a little shocked at the small personal attack as he continues to make the opinionated guess that I have been too busy for everything throughout life.

"Look Les, it seems you may have me mistaken. Maybe that was a bullshit reason, but it was a polite answer. If you want to know the real reason. I think it personally is a crop of shit, I think that if people want to change it is up to them to change, not for them to stand in front of people and let other people know of their concerns, their actions and their faults in life. We are all human, we all make mistakes and well I don't think I can get up in front of people and say how much of a coward I have been, how much of a liar I can be and how my actions have lead me to the person I am today. I feel that I have my own life to lead and I've been leading it pretty okay lately, I'm a damn well happier then I used to be. I'm an open guy, I'll tell you the last time I masturbated, lied or even broke the law if you asked. But for me to go to something like that is just not me, I'm happy for you, it seems you have found something which you may have been missing in your life by attending Landmark, but I think we all need that something to find for ourselves."

[breathe] [gulp] [smile] "I'm going to head back to my seat now, have yourself a great time in Europe.."

As I went back to my seat, I do realise I may have came off a little harsh, but I wasn't going to have someone tell me I should be standing in front of 100 people and telling them about my life's inaction's. Les came up and apologised to me about 10 minutes later about 'jumping down my throat', I said for him to forget about it, and I hope he has by now. It's these difficult conversations you have at high altitude that sometimes wish turbulence was much more common.

The question of 'why' has popped up a hundred-fold in conversations with people while I have been in Sydney, maybe my retort with Les was a small release. I have been doubling back on the reason why my return to London has been and as I said to Al on Saturday afternoon when he asked me 'why', I finally gave in, probably due to lack of sleep, hung over and not in much of a verbal state, on top of the fact I usually give Al most times the blunt truth about my life.

"Al, people have asked me why for months now and I have said the same bullshit to them, maybe it's me trying to believe why I need to go back to London by giving the same bullshit response. I do not know what's install for me when I arrive, I may just fall on my ass. I say more travelling, more work, more this and more that. But you asking me today, I'm going to give you my reason today….. I don't really know anymore."

I came back to London thinking of many things, what to do, where to focus. I came back to London knowing of the special friendships I have formed here and how much I would of missed them if I did not come back for them. I came back to London knowing it's going to be another hard journey to lead, but one I feel capable of doing this time around without having all my own personal bullshit to contend with. If I fall on ass, I'll come home. If I have a good time, I'll let you know about as usual. If I stay, it would be something beyond measure.

Don't ask me the why and when, just be happy for the conviction, be glad of the proposed future, support the idea of random spontaneous thought and please be mindful of tall people in planes when you recline your fucking seat.

Mission statement

2006-05-03T00:48:00.000+10:00

We all expect the troubles in our life to somehow micaralously disappear, but we only just realize the fate of the actions we take through our endeavors in life to answer these mysteries.

Why do we question and analyze the basic functions of being human, when we are inevitably in a position to serve? We serve our purpose to exist with each other and try to find our own personal meaning of happiness.

We serve our friends to make them laugh, help their heartache, to pull away our layers of self-vanity, and strive towards the most basic emotion of feeling.

We serve our parents to become responsible, to be independent in such a growing false world, to learn where we come from and not what we have become and to make them proud no matter what.

We serve ourselves, to place trust and respect at the top alongside humility and honesty, to study and learn from our mistakes, to somehow make a small difference and positive future for our own generations and to understand the meaning of love.

Why is it hard then to talk about yourself?
Why is it hard then to learn about people?
Why is it hard then to get along with one another?

It is our responsibility to make a difference.
It is our uniqueness we must share together.
It is our passion to learn how to love.

De Ja Vu....

2006-05-02T11:50:00.000+10:00

When I was 3-4 - the family was living out in Greystanes and I remember falling down a large flight of concrete stairs head first. I use to have dreams and flash backs of that moment, I don't remember hurting myself, and I don't really remember the house itself, but I do remember the stairs lead up to the front door. So the vision seems like it was 20 steps and things do look larger when you were a child I suppose, but if you can imagine my little body bouncing down the steps head first and thinking I wasn't hurt in the process well you could be well mistaken. Funny thing is, I don't remember the sensation of that pain.

When I was going through my 20's and use to write myself off, I use to remember this moment and get a whole paranoid persona and feeling that I was retarded or brain damaged. I would look at my friends around me and think that, yes I am retarded but no one will ever admit it to me that I was 'special' just in case it would make me even more damaged. So I continue thinking that they are just only with me tonight out of pity for this poor brain damaged kid.

From there is gets into from the peculiar to the wierd and I continue thinking I've gone my whole life being told a lie, thinking that I'm really about 3-4 years younger than I really am, probably have autism because I was a bright kid (report card - Has potential .. but!), but stupid so my parents knowing about it threw me into school at a young age and are now frightened to tell me, so they are probably not wanting to tell me I am missing that yummy chromosome too.

Wait it gets a little more weirder... So I sit and stare and my brain is probably firing off too many electrode which is overloading my mental capacity, so I sub-conciously go into a catatonic and retarded like state and think I need some type of wheelchair to get me around. My friends are all taking pity on me, and going for the factor that other people can see they are nice people taking their retard friend out for drinks, and I continue thinking that the women I have slept with throughout my life must of taken some money from my wallet or had some bizarre kinky fantasy about wanting to sleep with this famous retarded person... then my brain melts.

I'm suddenly standing in a bizarre twisted reality of my own Truman Show and start eyeing the room for recording equipment and cameras, and god forbid I find one because that will send me into some vain state of delusion. So there I am rooted to the spot because I am aware of being retarded, devoid of a majority of thought and thinkign that my life has been a complete and utter lie.

Then snap ---- "Hey Luke!! .. you okay??"

The language that is usuaully produced from my lips is either the demon incarnated within me or my real retarded voice that I have just become aware of, I start thinking 'No wonder they also want me to repeat what I am saying to them.'

To being me out of the psychosis I usually have to force myself into remembering things - birthdays, phone numbers, cereals I ate as a kid, what the firing mechanisms of the Steyr rifle is called etc.etc.

So when I asked one day to a person and owned up this little self-absorbed and bizarre delusion in one of my states, they quietly put their hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye and explained to me;

"Luke, you are not retarded, you are one of the saniest people I know."

I remembered looking up with a sad expression across my face, and the sudden realisation I was normal and said;

"But.. But.. I would of won gold at the Special Olympics."

'When you awake you will feel relaxed, but when you sleep who said it was relaxing...'

Lip-synch

2006-04-27T01:00:00.000+10:00

So I'm sitting in a booth with 2 other couples and Kathy. These boothes I have never heard of before existing in Sydney, they are Karoke boothes - you pay your money for how long a time and then sing your heart out. I'm told by the lovely frau's that some of these have alcohol in them, unfortunately this doesn't. So you imagine my state, as I am trying to figure out Kathy friends names, what they do, why again they are here with me and how the hell did I end up in Straithfield instead of Newtown tonight. Welcome to my first date with Kat.

It started off with Kat being late to pick me up in Liverpool, we were suppose to go to Newtown and grab some Thai together and possibly go listen to a band, unfortunately she's late and I'm sitting in a pub waiting. Kat sends her friend Anna down to meet me (I've met Anna breifly once) and bizarre as it is I'm still jovial about the situation. The night progressed onto the bizarre by meeting Anna's boyfriend and two more of Kat's friends...

I remained although freaked out by Anna's attempts for me to try and crack onto Kathy in front of them with slight head tilts and the old elbow and look of 'Cmon go for it big fella'. Now I was not out for such a purpose. I was out for the night to get to know Kat, but I would not be a man if the thought of perusing the 'Joy of Sex' with her over half a bottle of Vodka did not cross my mind.

Now I'm sitting in this booth and people are making me sing. I don't sing at the best of times, yes I do a good Tom Jones and Neil Diamond when I'm drunk, but hell I hate their songs... I have a natural barratone so everything goes deep - throw on some Barry White baby and I'll give you some sexual healing. Anyhow I finally get into the swing and had a laugh about the whole thing when I got home.... an experience.. bizzare, wierd, unexpected.. but fun.

Funny thing is when I said to them, I've never seen these type of places and the only places I've gone for Karoke is pubs in the city, and they said.. "oh my god I never knew there was pub's in the city."
"Oh course there is.. you are suppose to be drunk doing this in front of people..."
"I don't think so..." they said.

Yes it was wierd... and yes I sang Neil Diamond....

Thanks to Rob and Nomes for introducing me to Cat Empire over the weekend - even though not totally my taste - the one song they introduced me is making me sing all the way to work lately.

SONG FOR ELIAS - Cat Empire

Meant to meet you but I couldn't stay

Till now never knew how life tears you away

Now I wait for the springtime in Spain

My love

A beautiful being's so sad and so strong

You gave me a story you gave me a song

When he played his guitar she would weep

My love

So one rainy day that spirit took flight

She made him a cap full of magic and might

For his birthday to rule a great stage [and perform till old age]

My love

And why did you never arrive

When we - before you left I saw tears in your eye

And your mother just told me you -

My love

Estava en Ottro Siteo

To state he was born boy got rhythm within

Was to put it so mildly her crying faced grinned

It would spring from all fibres of humanly everythings

My love

Nothing's sure but that love never reasons

Now the world might have lost all its springtime's

And all of the seasons are bleak without you

My love

Estava en Ottro Siteo

Meant to meet you but I couldn't stay

Till now never knew how life tears you away

Now I wait for the springtime in Spain

My love

A question asked of me: "If you were to write a book, where would you base it? London or Sydney?"

"The Weigh-in"

2006-04-20T13:04:00.000+10:00

What happens when you try to impress someone and make a complete-and-utter-balls-up of the attempt? Well it depends on a certain amount of measurement - first time you have met, a good friend or an acquaintance? For example when it comes to the first time you speak with someone and I have been known to ball's up many a good first impression with a 'I did this' story with maybe a vague sense of exaggeration, I tend to not associate with the person too much ever again with my own self vain approach of 'That conversation never really happened... did it?' - or you could bite the bullet and apologise for little brain-fart and carry on with life.

At least 90% of the time, nobody cares what you do. They won't remember. Unless you do something completely weird and memorable, or just look really freaky, most people's eyes will just glide over you. Especially on either end of retail transactions. People have enough concerns of their own, they don't have time to worry about you and what you did.

I feel, there is always a certain care and contempt scale we balance and weigh for individuals we see throughout our life. The care factor involves the conformed attempts society has places upon us and the moral obligations we are brought up by guidance along with your personal traits and decisions that has lead you to who you are. The contempt scale has the very similar to that of the care. We preform the weigh-in at every-time you make a decision on the person and their action.

People always think and question the why they were put on this planet and what their mission is, continually exhausting avenues of thought and action with changes to their own look, personality or life. Wouldn't we all liked to be remembered for something when we depart the living. Gazing at the endless stream of people that stroll pass you on a daily basis they all have their small mission to complete and grander task to begin. Is it wrong to have such a grand vision throughout life? Or, is it much more erroneous to never commence?

I was sitting with Naomi on the weekend discussing a similar personal paradox and I think she may have hit a nerve with a classic example of basic analysis and psychology about why I tend to be the way I am. Obviously not remembering the whole entire conversation, as I would of loved to have her write it out for me, it made me think the achievements I do within life are never enough and thus always striving to achieve that little bit more and never wanting to settle on the current, thus a vicious circle.

This I need to think on a little bit more and try and work out.

Caught in a sitcom

2006-03-30T11:19:00.000+11:00

I only just realised today I'm caught in a never ending episode of The Office (a English comedy sit-com which made Rick G. famous for the uninitated). To put it simple there are some people in this building that I'd love to set their stapler in Jelly.

There is one guy that constantly can't find his team group email and sends an email to the entire staff on this floor. This morning I have got some rather weird pictures of him on his holidays, and only recently I have found out he's into S&M and swinging, which makes me cringe everytime his bulbous head and overweight Mr Plod body walks past me.

Thing's become really serious when someone makes a mistake though (easily rectified) but the inter-departmental squabbling is hilarious. I actually laughed when someone from downstairs came up in all a huff because I miskeyed something, and while she was explaining to me the error I had fixed it before she finished and said 'You could of called me then coming up here, all frustrated and thinking that I really did care....'. I guess people's lives revolve around the centred universe of Order and one black smear of chaos sends their brain in fetal.

Anyhow I see a common stereotype from The Office in quite a number of people here and when people at my desk look at me when I burst into laughter over something like this (below)... they wonder why.

Mr Plod is on the right

A meaning?

2006-03-29T09:56:00.000+11:00

I'm the person who sits on the train with those headphones in, and possibly with the music a little louder than most. I love my music, and many different styles and types and enjoy the conversations about certain genre's with people who are quite passionate about their own influences.

Take Ben for example, a guy I've been working with. He is a MC on a community Sydney station (it escapes me at the moment) on Monday nights and listens to a lot of Hip-Hop, I think when I first started he took me for one of those Pearl Jam / Trancer types which cross over from those genres, even though yes I enjoy both, I strangely think I am not a specific genre (thus always finding it hard to explain to people what I enjoy listening to because it varies widely).

Ben briefly tells to me that he DJ's on Monday's and so, a conversation begins. By the end the conversation I think he has a better perspective on me in regards to who I am. Saying that he had me pictured all wrong I laugh. Established common ground ? We discuss Dr Dre, me listening to LL Cool J, NWA, Ice-T (and Bodycount) as well as others when I was a teen (he tells me he was a little young for those, which makes me guffaw). Discussing the Australian hip-hop scene he tells me about the up and comings and how it's been getting much better, I remember the quality of Australian hip-hop was not the best years ago and I never tracked it up until now, I think it was because the MC's just didn't have the right flow and tried too heavily on west coast USA to mimic. He gives me a CD and I like it (of which he's burning for me this week sometime). I tell him to listen to Dizzie Rascal and The Streets and I think he is loving Dizzie. It's funny by knowing a little about various types of genres you can make an interesting conversation.

I've digressed.

Sitting on the train two Friday's ago it was by co-incidence that Faithless came through my random selection on the ipod, and I have recently had to delete all my songs and put others on there (long story) so I'm adjusting to some new albums my little bro has, even though I'm a big Faithless fan, I've never had a chance to listen to Crazy English Summer.

It was a bolt of lightning and lyrical means so much and in so many ways made my event home from work on Friday a thoughtful melancholy but enlightening trip.

Crazy English Summer

Fields of fire that passed the train
The sky is victorious but here comes the rain
Friday is taking me home again,
And I've nothing but you on my mind.

Grass is greener without the pain,
I think that I'm changing but I'm just the same
My sun is a ascending again
And I've nothing but you on my mind

Sometimes I feel like I'm glad to be free,
Sometimes I still want your arms around me
Sometimes I'm glad to have left you behind,
The Crazy English Summer has put you back on my mind.
Life's a riot a lover a friend,
Pity the day that it has to end
Friday come speed me home again,
I've nothing but you on my Mind.

Sometimes I feel like I'm fine on my own,
Fifty Thousand miles from home.
Sometimes I'm weak and the past is my guide,
Summer returns and puts you back on my mind.

"Some things just happen, some things can't be explained. But you know some things are meant to be."

An email to mates back in London

2006-03-14T11:02:00.000+11:00

Let me paint you a picture of my admin life today while I'm back in Sydney

Sitting across from a blonde european lass by the name of Fra with the eastern bloc accent to boot, you are compelled to think at this moment I would be talking about someone who is gorgeous. Well you're sadly mistaken, she is a stereo-typical eastern bloc woman who you'd see pummel the shit out of your back if you walked into a bad massage parlour. Well I sit at a computer which unfortunately points her way and I am subject to the enormous amount of daily consumption of 'food' which a rhino would be hard to take on. Now sure she's not overally huge, but she is quite the tank, with a mouth that could swallow your knob and balls and have room for a little bit more. Now I don't mind her ugliness, I'm not married to the frankenstein, I don't mind her accent, even though it scares me, I do fucking mind her eating and laughing at the same time. I do not think she has mastered the entire concept of putting food into her mouth and her gaffawing is driving me a little bit spare, when I have to take cover behind my small partition to keep clear of the hail of crumbs that is spat every which way.

So let me introduce you to Shannon. Bless him, he's 19 and I'm guessing his stories of him having slept with women are a little fictionous (however he did go a little far when he mention that his sister see's him naked, which kind of scared me a little). He loves his gameage, constantly telling me how many hours he had played WoW last night, what level he is and his fully sick mount, you'd love him Sam. Now Shannon has a lot to learn in life and constantly refers to girls as "bitches", getting smashed is the best thing and having a history in Mudgee, where he dated some chick for a couple months and travelled the 4-6 hours by public transport to see her. He makes me laugh though, like the hand on your forehead and shake your head laugh where you say to yourself 'Did he really just say that out loud.' He's that guy at work that follows you around like a lost puppy, I swear one time when he followed me into the toilets he nearly took a right into the same cubicle as me only to realise what he was doing and I hear the sound of him washing his hands. Now I have never been the 'cool guy', but I've never been the one to sheep a cool guy, and this guy is starting to freak me out. However I do sometimes start wishing I was 19 all over again, and he is a true soul and has his heart in the right place, unfortunately I've been tainted by the evils of the world and throw my pessimistic blanket over him, so I wish I was something like him from time to time too with his jovial outlook on life and everyone.

Working in a pre-dominantly middle age women setting most of my admin life you get used to the old bitties flock to you and giggle like they were 20 again when you say something charming, and let me tell you I have my degree is being charming to the old bats who have spent most of their life behind their George Clooney calenders. However there is this one at work that frightens me. She rubs my back like her favourite poker machine at the club and she touches me a little to often then needed, although she hasn't touched me in those places she did nearly come close at the printers one time. I barely leave my chair now knowing my ass may get slapped because all I said to her indirectly was 'Oh what lovely young ladies I have to work alongside.', I was actually mentioning this girl that passes my desk and my mouth is left a little wider.

I was fortunate to talk to 'Kat with a K' (the only good looking one in the office) last Friday, unfortunately my chances disintergrated when Shannon appeared talking about his WoW and mount and some 'bitch' from Mudgee working at the bar who he's forgotten her name and could I find out for him. Now Kat with a K is losing interest I decide to say my goodbyes and on the way out catch up with this Mudgee girl.
'Hiya, what's your name?'
'Nicole... why?'
'Oh I heard Shannon was going to take you out after work...'
'Ohh yeh, but I dunno yet.'
'Why's that?'
'Ohhh I might be going pig hunting...'
"......."
now the pause was longer than usual.. and I don't think I even said good bye to Nicole...

But I sit at work today looking at a "theme day", each team has to come up with a theme and my cotton shirt is slowly getting sweaty and stuck to the plastic rain coat which is hanging off my chair, because someone came up the idea of Weather! for our crew. I'm sitting underneath clouds and rainsdrops stuck from the ceiling. But hey I'm no grump, I stringed most of the raindrops together and gave my artiste impression, even though in the back of my mind I was fearing this day.

I hesitantly stare at Fra laughing out her mouth a cream pastry and sipping Fanta through a straw while she has a feather boa wrapped around her jugulars and a tiara placed on her head because their team are Princesses, it's an awful sight.

Shannon's actions behind the partition is similar to that of he has bought his penis enlarger to work and is trying to increase his size, however I see this long thin balloon come up and over onto my desk...he's making a rainbow with balloons which he is too overly excited about - and I ask him if he bought his unicorns in too, however I don't think he gets the joke.

Kat with K has called in sick leaving me no muse and off in the distance I can see that old bitty coming closer and closer to my desk, I cringe.

Welcome to Monday Hell... lucky I am wearing my ruby slippers today and each time I click them I say;

"I only am doing this to get back to London."

Deepest fear

2006-02-01T00:31:00.000+11:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We are all meant to shine, as children do. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we subconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we're liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Taking things too far

2006-01-08T23:51:00.000+11:00

Came across this site tonight and it does make me wonder how many people I have met in the past and possibly in the future who have this strange fascination to do this to themselves.

Enjoy...

Click me to laugh

Oh my...

2006-01-06T21:19:00.000+11:00

A letter to the editor

2005-12-20T04:46:00.002+11:00

Yahoo! Mail Print - Close Window
Date: Mon, 19 Dec 2005 17:44:24 +0000 (GMT)
From: "Luke"
Subject: Possible fraudulent activity - Please read (non-spam)
To: "newsales@monster.co.uk" , "help@monster.co.uk"
CC: "60minutesmailbag@nine.com.au" <60minutesmailbag@nine.com.au>, "editor@guardianunlimited.co.uk" , "legal@honda.co.uk" , "mail@honda.co.uk"
BCC: "myemailaddress@yahoo.co.uk", "mail@police.uk"

ATTENTION: LEGAL MATTER
To: TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I received the following email (note below) today, usually of course I delete emails of such nature as I havealways referred my above email address to be used in somewhat of a personal nature.

Fortunately for myself I understand the terminology of fraudulent activity. However for some people that use your overtly large and seemingly MAZE-LIKE interface along with making large employers pay for your small minuscule space-like adverts to avert peoples eyes from actually ever finding a job.

Enclosed (copy of) email;

---------------------------------------
Yahoo! Mail Print - Close Window
Date: Tue, 20 Dec 2005 09:55:54 +0300
From: "Honda Handle AG Company"
To: ********7487@yahoo.co.uk
Subject: Do you want to work for a successful company?

Honda Handle AG Company introduces a position of the manager, responsible for the payments from customers and other financial means.

The requirements for the candidates are:
-Being energetic, responsible, honest and industrious
-Being under 80 years old
-Have a few (1-5, 2) spare house a day
-Having a bank account (or open a new one)
-Having a landline or a mobile phone
-Having an E-mail

Once you are able to attribute yourself and meet all the above-listed requirements, you should probably try to apply for an offered position. Our company remains one of the most successful distributors of power equipment, manufactured by Honda. Recently our company's profit has increased so much, that we decided to expand into the markets, of the UK, Australia and Spain, so the duties of the financial manager in one of these countries enquire receiving the payments on his bank account from the customer in the nearest region. After that the employee is supposed to transfer the received financial means by Western Union or Money Gram to one of our regional trade missions or to one of our partners' regional branches (Germany, Sweden, Finland, Russia, Czech Republic or Austria).
The destination of the western Union/Money Gram transfer depends on the presence of the ordered item in any of our regional warehouses.
The minimum rate of interest for a financial manager is 5% out of the whole amount of each deposit on his bank account. All the charges for the Western Union/ Money gram are covered by Honda Handle AG. Finally we would like to mention that ,the salary of our staff id not fixed by definite amount of money, we are always eager to give you an opportunity to earn more, therefore any questions are welcome on our email address.

info@honda-equipment.net

We are grateful for your attention!

Your E-mail has been forwarded by www.monster.co.uk at our request, because you or somebody else has subscribed for the delivery of job offers in the Internet.

We wish you good luck and happiness!

If this E-mail is sent to you by mistake, the heads of Honda Handle AG bring their apologies. Please just delete this message!
---------------------------------------

Thus I found the following reputed site to identify this following company, possibly from finding the company's details via your website (monster.co.uk). Obviously the below is for the address of Honda (UK) (a real company).

http://website.lineone.net/~farrago/cia/crooksin2.htm#first310
http://seattle.craigslist.org/etc/114483675.html

Honda Handle AG Company
470 London Road,
Slough, Berkshire, SL3 8QY
Rc:120032
Contact phone number + 447040110859

I think for this instance and possibly many more which you have already received within the past and thus in the future, that management should be aware of the risks taken when emails are sent to your clients(?) who interact with the Monster franchise. Thus understanding that this is a 'ticking bomb' waiting to explode on the next victim and rather swaying away from 'blocking' this person(s) (Honda Handle AG Company), and I am sure that it can be a random way of thinking, but actually finding newer and improved ways to deter this from continuing to pollute and flood what has now become an overexposed, congested, anti-social and risky market (ie. The internet).

I expect no apology, other than your indulgent of looking into this matter.

Yours in faith,
Luke

ps. if you like a forward of the original email please feel free to contact me.

In progress...

2005-11-30T01:25:00.000+11:00

Hello my maiden
Farewell dear knight
Alas it's my sunshine
Welcome back my morning

Dreamt

2005-11-27T03:19:00.000+11:00

Can't turn off the light

Couldn't get the comic to show on the blog...java script or something issues...

Cracked smile

2005-11-24T23:24:00.000+11:00

What is it with the English and their teeth. Did the MP for National Health in England miss the memo regarding denistry fifty years ago and have and the government hasn't produced another one since?

When I first arrived here I heard the jokes and rumors and sure I saw a couple of old drunks in and outside the pub who would put Nosferatu to shame, but I never thought too much of it.

But when you see it so often the blackened teeth or brown yellow stained gums you just cringe. I do not think it's a vanity thing but I do believe that washing your teeth with some sort of toothpaste does help.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm afraid of the medical practice, and even more afraid of the dentist, I think it's a little bit of a family pass-me-down as I dentist to me are like going to the grim reaper for a check up. I do however consider I look after my teeth a little better than most English.... well considering that they only wash once a week I suppose you can't really blame them.

Anyhow - totally bored at home, saw a guy on tv getting interviewed and it made me throw up a little in my mouth when he smiled.

A barrier of thought?

2005-11-23T02:58:00.000+11:00

The funniest commentaries of life, which you not only understand but perceive that momentary happening to also become evident in your life, would you have once wished that those tantalizing words were your own.

Is this a particular persistent meaning of writer's block?

Where you translate the consistency of life around you and find the impossibility of writing one sentence, a infinite task, like ascending Everest and bringing a step-ladder 'along for the ride'?

However, when you one day in your state of absence from pen to paper realize, that like a light-translucent to your moment, now rescues your neglected and worthy instrument of your projected state of mind.

Your ink now runs freely about the endless dream of paper.

Lazy

2005-11-19T02:25:00.000+11:00

Whoops - somehow I forgot I had a vent for my frustration.

I'm currently residing with Jo in her apartment in Tooting until new residence is found. She has been extremely helpful with my search for work and I've been promised opportunity's from agencies for the last couple of weeks that it has become depressing that none have arisen just yet. I am not worried about it all too much of late as I know the November period is very hard to find work, always has been.

In the last month I have moved out of my house at Northfields, of which I found it quite sad to leave in some regard. Even though sometimes I bitched about it to people about some of the inhabitants, I did find it a great house to live and relax.

Ben has picked up his bags after 10 months here in London and headed back to Melbourne on a one way, I do not see him back in the immediate future though.
Sam and Nick have also grabbed their bags and headed back to Melbourne until January with a stop off at LA for a week.

I've been having some great thoughts of late but I have not managed or not bothered to write them down, I haven't become sick of this Blog, I've just found myself tied up for the last couple months in my own little syndrome and drama which I am happy to say should be all well and good by the beginning fo next month.

Need to stop contradicting myself....

Lesson 1: Comedy 101 (Gina)

2005-10-12T21:38:00.000+10:00

Ahhhhh the lovely Gina provides, long overdue but worth the wait - I have a new one to complete as well, which is going to be hard for me to get into words, I love the challenge, anyhow read on;

Date: 23 August 2005
Lesson Plan 1: Comedy 101
Subject matter: Gina Schauffer
Deadline: long gone
Words: No longer than 400 words, no less then 350.

Question: Take a personally humorous moment within the last week (or before deadline) and discuss why and how you find the subject matter funny.

Why do relationships between passengers on aeroplanes progress at such lightening speed? Last time I checked, air travel didn't involve time travel.

First there's the introductions, usually pre-empted by the fact you've just stood on your neighbour's foot or woken him/her up as you gently removed their slumbering head from your dead shoulder.

This quickly progresses to love, kids, marriage and employment, followed swiftly by Reasons for Travel.

Then - and this is where I come undone - this can progress to deep and dark secrets, hope and fears, or even, heaven forbid, the exchange of details with a view to meeting up again groundside.

In mine and may other weary travellers' defence: You're thousands of miles up, more than a little drunk, with endless hours of mind-numbing travel stretching in front of you. Naturally, the person sitting beside you is going to come across as the most wildly interesting person you've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

And naturally, you're going to feel no qualms whatsoever about revealing intimate personal details to someone who for all intents and purposes could be an inmate on parole, on his way to Vegas, looking for a good time.

And in fact, on a recent trip, I did meet what seemed like a charming, well-travelled, dare I say it, dishy, City broker, clearly loaded and generous with his iPod. So you have a few laughs, you have a few too many bottles of wine, get a reprimand from a stewardess - all of which convince you you've found your new best friend.

Without hesitation you reveal everything bar your bank account details - only to find your in-box clogged the next day with mails from a complete stranger, claiming to know your favourite song and dog's name.

Worse still, when you do finally agree to meet, the charming banker from your flight-addled memory turns out to be a limping ex-army man with a massive under-bite and a chip on his shoulder to match.

We're a strange old breed, humans. By the way, how's your in-flight meal? And would you mind if we swapped seats, I really do prefer the aisle seat.

ed: Must say Gina has a great sense of humor and in my reply to her was as follows - 'You had me enthralled the whole way along, a few grammar and spelling mistakes in there (but that would be the same for mine), but overrall a brilliant story with a often familiar, joked about punchline and 'yep that will probably happen to me' attitude. It's a keeper!'

Tube encounter 309

2005-10-12T03:41:00.000+10:00

So I decided to head out to Jo's last night to help her with exams. She is currently about to do her final Wednesday so I quizzed her with some pysch questions from the text book. I left around about 10:30pm and headed back to Tooting Broadway, a good 10 minute walk. Weather was a little barmy, strange as it's Autumn and well it's been cold each and every other night, so I enjoyed the cool breeze and headed off to the tube, inserted my return ticket and headed down to the platform.

Now on the way from work to Tooting I was sardined most of the way, but managed to find a piece of some paper and it described an American Naval Muslim Chaplain who was arrested and convicted in Camp Delta in Cuba. He was there to serve as a chaplain to the inmates and people managed to twist it into destroying his life and making him become one of those inmates. Very interesting read - looks like he has written a book (Yee) God and Country, then I read up on that one of the two Ronnie's had died, and read some exerts from his biography from the other Ronnie and John Cleese in regards to the David Frost Report. Highly entertaining and found myself in Tooting no problems, a little disheveled and sweaty but survived the ride.

So on the way home, I knew I was going to get a seat, but probably not a paper as by then the cleaners would have taken them all, fortunately I found the most oldest Metro on the tube which looked like it had travelled all around London all day to end up in my hands, it's dog earred corners and foot-printed pages were testiment to the strife it acheived to turn up still readable and still efficiently enough time to read for my 1 hour trip home on the tube.

However - I get off onto the Piccadilly line and I've read the Metro and now have another 30 minutes, so I sit down with a few people this time in the carriage. Some large guy to my right (thinking Italian) and two Russians to my left. A nice looking girl sitting next to the large guy and a frumpy looking one sitting on reading. A typical night home. Now I'm in the tube relaxed position, head in one hand, eyes closed and thinking happy thoughts when I hear the 'Italian' guy speaking to the nice looking one. I'm thinking he's a pimp, he's a dirty old bastard or he's loaded as he is sleazing it up hardcore, they are talking chit-chat and I realise by the time she gets off she is amused by him but they are now departing their ways for eternity and only fate slip in where needed.

So back to relaxed position and 20 minutes to get home, and then he starts on the frumpy one... and I hear the word --- 'Magic tricks'. So I look up and he produces a deck of cards and is asking her to pick one... I'm saying to myself 'I suppose if you ugly and bald like you mate, I'd have to find a magic trick to work it.' Then he does a nice simple card trip and she's all astonished. He turns to me and I'm captivated but dubious.

'What's your name?'
'Luke'
'Do you believe in magic?'
'Yes and no'
'Do you believe in ghosts?'
'No'
'Ok Luke, I have a deck of cards take one....'

I take one - 9 of clubs - and give it back to him. He then tells me to cut the cards and he puts it into the sleeve packet and says;

'Hold this string...' He is holding an imaginary string above the pack of cards in the sleeve...
I hold the string.... and he says 'I thought you don't believe in ghosts?!'

Now I laugh, he's broken my ice and everyone else in the carriage is now looking up, so I go on and he says.. 'Pull'

And as I pull out flies my card from the deck in the sleeve... nice trick!

I'm laughing and saying nice trick.... he's saying 'Yes but not magic...'

He then fans the cards again and says 'Pick...' I pick a 10 of hearts and put it back in the pack and cut the cards again. He then says 'Put them in piles.' I arrange them in a 4 piles. 'Pick up a pile.' So I pick up the second pile.
'Your card is in here you think?'
'How the hell would I know...' I say.
'Ok now I take this and I going to deal five cards from the top... one two three four and five. Now Luke... Magic --- pick up your card.'

I'm looking at five cards in front of me, and the odds are stacked against him, I know for certain one of those cards is mine, and mediorce magician can slip it in, but now I choose. So I choose the third card... It's the 10 of hearts, the other 4 are all different. I'm astonished and puzzled as I wanted to show him up and he just showed me up... I know a lot of these tricks depend on word and gesture association but that just flattened me.

'One more...' I'm currently deciding to even miss my station if he keeps going.
He pulls out another pack from his jacket pocket, old packet seen better days with an elastic band around the top and the front card is a 4 of Spades.... he fans them out and then puts them back together...
'Now Luke, think of a card in your head.'
I'm thinking, and I want to do this bastard over... 2 of hearts hit me, then I change it to say
'Ace of spades'
Now he's fanned these cards back out and one is upside down... he turns it over and yep it's the
ACE OF SPADES! I then said... 'Fucking hell I was going to say 2 of hearts.' I yelp with some of the passengers clapping in the background.

'Ahhhhh Luke I knew you were going to think that too.' He looks down tapping his a finger from his other hand on his forehead and while he has it fanned out I see the corner of another card which is turned over... I reach over and I pull it out and turn it over....

I still don't know how he did it, nor do I wish to learn how, but it made my night and I'm still smiling today because of this encounter.

Maybe you don't need to believe in the essence of magic of what society of individuals may think and what the dictionaries phrase, but I realise you need to remember the magic of the event which has happened at that instant, and realise that people aren't really who you think they are....

he was from Slovakia.

Year plus one

2005-10-05T22:03:00.000+10:00

A lady just came in the office to hand in her references and while she was talking to Lynn she would whistle her 's', and it reminded me of my Nan and when she got new teeth and they look like bigger and brighter than usual, and remembered she would whistle her 's' also. Brought a tear to my eye as I remembered a perfect image of my Nan smiling with her new teeth.
I missed my one year anniversary of the blog and in doing so I was going to go back and have a read through my old input, but I think I won't until further down the track.

It's been an off and on year of sorts and amazing how in 12 months my road and train of thought has changed and metamorphed into other bizarre areas. Just coming back from Munich with Horse and Benny makes me even more happier to be in London again, even though I fell ill to some sort of mad-cow disease and made my ribs hurt, Oktoberfest is something everyone in their life should go along to, the amount of crazy stuff that we got up to and missed out on is well... I cannot explain it - you just need to experience it.

Jo and I are starting to commit a little more every week and I'm finding it difficult to pull away from the individual aspects I have made for myself in the land of single-dom. Going to leave you all with this. It's from one of Jo's friends as she use to live in Taiwan and this guy still lives there, I do believe somehow she misses her life there and I'm sure I would love for her to re-visit it... sooner rather than later.

How-D all,
Sorry for the mass-mail, and for the lack of communication from my side.
I'd like to claim all kinds of excuses; Typhoon Haitung destroyed my
computer and a lot of Taiwan - but for some reason Taiwan was prepared
for a massive tropical storm (because they don't spend all of their time and
money looking for oil) and they had the manpower to offer aid to those who
neened it (because they didn't send almost 90% of their National Guard to fight
in a war thousands of miles from the nation they were supposed to be
guarding)... so that excuse is only valid if I happen to be American.
I'm not trying to sound callous, but really - I live in a country where
the majority of people live below the poverty line. The storm that struck
here was as large as Katrina (and the waves that surely followed), but for
some reason the only fatalities in Taiwan happened to be reporters that
decided to step into a flooded river to demonstrate how fast the waters were...
and they were fast enough to swallow reporters whole - more news at eleven.
Could it be that a country deemed "Third World" by most of western
society has a more advanced global weather monitoring system... or could it be
that every American satelite and television is focused on a shore far from
home?
I saw yesterday on CNN that Hurricane Katrina has been deemed "The Most
Devestating Natural Disaster of Our Time." It's a good thing that every
major international television station is American - otherwise people
would know about that other natural disaster that struck Southeast Asia... I
remember something about a tsunami that killed hundreds of thousands -
but that's an acceptable loss because Southeast Asia has neither the
resources, money, television networks, or celebrity power to be deemed "The Most
Devestating Natural Disaster of Our Time." No, that title is reserved
for A-list celebrities to spout in a plea for aid. If Mike Myers tells us
it's important, then it must be.
I'm not trying to demean the deaths of Americans or any other losses in
any other nation - I'm just trying to reinforce a fact that CNN and every
other major "News" broadcaster has omitted in each of their commentaries -
people die all over the world, every day. Every race, nationality, and age -
they die just like the rest of us will. Where they - or we - happen to call
home makes no difference, and hundreds of thousands of dead is no less a
travesty than one. Just because there's more coverage in the news, it doesn't
give something a greater impact.
Yeah, it's easier to look in our own backyards and see problems there
than it is to see the problems in the rest of the world. It's easier to bitch
about the war in Iraq than it is to do something to stop it, and it's
easier to call president Bush a chimp than it is to prove he is one (that one's
debatable). When someone we've all seen in movies tells us that Katrina
is "The Most Devestating Natural Disaster of Our Time," it doesn't mean
they're saying anything other than what they were paid to say - and when we
believe it... what does that say about us?
I say we take all of those blowhards that appeal for cash, all of those
famous faces that manned the phones after 9/11, and all of those
corporate emperors that cash in on conflict, and ask them to donate 2% of their
annual salaries to a global relief fund. Suddenly telethons will be extinct,
relief funds will be in a surplus, and the average Joe can sit back and
forget about the rest of the world, watching pre-fabricated sitcoms on
tv and munching on equally pre-fabricated food. Welcome to utopia.
Cheers - hope your day's a sunny one,

Brad

Case 1 - Loneliness

2005-09-17T01:21:00.000+10:00

Describe an incident that describes/portrays a sense of loneliness in London.

Aren't we all? You can take a number of instances that could possibly happen in your week, if not your day and think that you are forlorn. How to pinpoint those instances aren't really justified, however you know when it happens you have that realisation of where you are, who you are with and then what the hell am I doing here. I think the first case in point would have to be I am in London. No matter how many friends you have here as an Australian, and no matter how many times you go out over the weekend, as a single white male heading towards his big three zero, it becomes evident when you get home after these short often bizarre interludes of weekends that you are alone still. You may wish to think that the solution to my problem is to get a girlfriend, a companion, a partner or a soul-mate, but there is a simple flaw to your design. Because one if you are coming up with this simple enlightment to my troubles is;

1) you yourself are happy within your own little relationship
2) you have never visited London to realise the ways of the single adult community
3) you are not me.

So that relationship theory aside, let me explain the nit and grit of loneliness to you. It's written about, talked about, and most importantly whinged about. But in the words of Radiohead "What the hell am I doing here?" then maybe I can first imagine why I might feel lonely. Having drinks with friends and never knowing too much about them I find the loneliest, but "One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do" so I'll stick to the reasoning that you are lonely no matter wherever you are and it is only you, number one, that can make that unique difference, fulfilment and happiness to life.

But back to the point of the subject, describe an incident that portrays a sense of loneliness in London.

I woke up this morning and she still wasn't there.

ed- Still yet to see Gina's, maybe she will get motivated now that I sent it on to her. This case is written in my view to explain possibilities of why people act and feel alone, it is also a basic contradiction in terms that I am hoping to see if Gina picks up on with a little tongue in cheek, I would not say I feel lonely however there are times when you feel the weight of the Earth upon your shoulders and the dark recess of a corner in a room is found to have some comfort. Until next lesson - if that goes ahead....

By Hoff or Scoff

2005-09-16T22:09:00.000+10:00

It's a casual fact of life that will get junk email constantly coming in from your friends and family in regards to women, men, dogs, cats, holidays, romance, jokes, religion, I want your money can you put it in my bank account, pictures, family, drinking, sex, racism, sexism, plagerism, comics, last night, last week , last month, 20 years ago, invites, transition stages of your life, personal crisis, employment crisis, unemployment crisis, good times and bad, weddings, funerals, operations, war, death, decay, birth..... I could go on and on and on.

Lately I've been flooded with the Hoff... the damn bastard has invaded my dream last night, every day I come into work I see a brand new picture with the Hoff's head branded on some fool or well the Hoff in his prime during the 80's (scary shit!). So I've got a lock down on all Hoff pictures from now on.. he is starting to freak me out, not as much as clowns do, but he is getting close!

Off to Munich next weekend with Ben and Horse, meeting up with Zeek who is living there and I forgot to ask so I spent another 100 quid on accomodation. Di and her friends will be there that weekend as well so it could turn into a bizarre weekend as Di is a strange, overly-excited female who talks about sex way too much for most people's likings, mine no... I laugh too much when she starts up about it.
Jo arrives back from South Africa on Sunday... Yay!
Lad's are talking about Russia for New Years this year, but I dunno yet... they speak Russian there and drink lots of Vodka and the women are a little freaky with their moustaches.

"I know I'm not going to understand women. I'll never understand how you can take boiling hot wax, pour it onto your upper thigh, rip the hair out by the root, and still be afraid of a spider."

Women!

2005-09-13T22:37:00.000+10:00

WHITEWOMEN:
First date: You get to kiss her goodnight.
Second date: You get to grope all over and make
out a bit.
Third date: You get to have sex but only in the
missionary position.

IRISH WOMEN:
First Date: You both get blind drunk and have sex
Second Date: You both get blind drunk and have
sex.
20th Anniversary: You both get blind drunk and
have sex.

ITALIAN WOMEN:
First Date: You take her to a play and an
expensive restaurant.
Second Date: You meet her parents and her Mom
makes spaghetti & meatballs.
Third Date: You have sex, she wants to marry you
& insists on a 3-carat
ring.
5th Anniversary: You already have 5 kids together
& hate the thought of
having sex.
6th Anniversary: You find yourself a Mistress.

JEWISH WOMEN:
First Date: You get terrific head.
Second Date: You get even more great head.
Third Date: You tell her you'll marry her and
never get head again.

CHINESE WOMEN:
First date: You get to buy her an expensive
dinner but nothing happens.
Second date: You buy her an even more expensive
dinner. Nothing happens
again.
Third date: You don't even get to the third date
and you've already realized
nothing is ever going to happen.

INDIAN WOMEN:
First date: Meet her parents.
Second date: Set the date of the wedding.
Third date: Wedding night.

BLACK WOMEN:
First Date: You get to buy her a real expensive
dinner.
Second Date: You get to buy her and her
girlfriends a real expensive dinner.
Third Date: You get to pay her rent.
Tenth Date: She's pregnant by someone other than
you.

MEXICAN WOMEN:
First Date: You buy her an expensive dinner, get
drunk on Tequila, and have
sex in the back of her car.
Second Date: She's pregnant.
Third Date: She moves in. One week later, her
mother, father, his
girlfriend, her two sisters, her brother, all of
their kids, her grandma,
her father's girlfriend's mother, her two
cousins, her
sister's Boyfriend and his three kids move in and
you live on rice and beans
for the rest of your life.

ARAB WOMEN:
First Date: Mother, Father, Brothers, Sisters,
Cousins, Aunts,
Uncles, Friends and entire arab community finds
out.
Second Date: You are shot dead.

Hi

2005-09-05T23:15:00.000+10:00

Long Long weekend - involving me heading off to the Lab Bar on Friday night for Belinda's birthday drinks and befriending the bartenders making cocktails. Damn they make mean mean cocktails and then leaving and being kinda insulted by one of her friends referring to me as 'the other guy' in front of my face.

Saturday fancy dress party, went to a bar beforehand with 6 of the boys, we were all dressed in Top Gun naval uniform - pictures to come. Then headed to house party where we partied until dawn. Sunday involved recovery and watching American Pie at Sam's and having a good catch up with everyone including ringing the Pa on his Father's Day.

The naval uniform was a great idea and payed off well. So I've dedicated this song to Saturday night...

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/dingdingdong.html

Random Archiving

2005-08-25T19:28:00.000+10:00

If you look at your new Nokia/Siemens/Orange/Bluetooth mobile phone with its catchy name which sounds like it should be on a watered down racetrack rather in your lint-free pocket, a minute camera that you sparsely use now but remember a time where you actually remember taking so many pictures with it, that your eyes bled reviewing them and the annoying ring tones which you constant aggravate people with while you change it on the tube as they try to 'commute'. Now flip over to the address book of that incredible Dick Tracey gadget and what do you find?

Well I know what I'll find from my ancient beast, a list of random numbers including hotels (another story over a bottle of red wine), old work numbers which you have yet to delete, my bank account number under the code work 'Payroll', women I once dated and possibly had horribly bizarre instances, information lines which can tell me whatever I need to know such as the name of the dog from Fragglerock, as well as bizarre digits which once possibly had some purpose in your life and one number marked 'Home' which has more importance than the rest. Now consider it is not the place you have been living the last eight months of your ill-equipped life in amongst the throng of Antipodean's, European's, South American's and the odd English lad who have passed through your cave like a circus of gypsy's while you are still wondering why you aren't the ringleader yet. 'Home' is where I grew up, it reminds me of the safe, warmth and secure confines it brings when I look at that grey now-foreign overseas number, it's family but it's so far away.

But then you have the names. Lots of names, so many names that you have to flip through them and do the who's who. Someone you have known for a few years to someone you met 4 months ago at a fateful smoke-filled venue and you have been meaning to call them... next week. I call them acquaintances or randoms, people who have existed in my life for some brief stint and then remain a memory until I find the courage and reasoning to actually delete them from my existence as that message which pops up 'Erase? Joe Smith - Yes or No' always makes me sympathetic to Joe's cause. Do I make the decision to contact Joe now through some peculiar SMS that may make them think they still have an acquaintance? Who are these people? How did they manage to infest my phone and then become forgotten? How many address books am I forgotten in? Who will be my next random? But I think the biggest question on your mind right now is what really was the name of that damn dog from Fragglerock?

Your mission if you choose to accept...

2005-08-24T20:32:00.000+10:00

Well you'll probably be getting more input onto the Blog with less of the random pattern I have been using at the moment to update.. the reasoning - I had a drinks and dinner with Gina on Monday night, she just got back from a couple weeks in New York, excited that she just got a promotion at work and looking at possibility of moving elsewhere away from the little studio apartment she has at the moment. Gina and I usually discuss quite random details, firstly the chit-chat of life in general, how's this and how's that. Then we go onto work. Then we go into some drunken stupor by this time where we talk absolute shite to each other most of the time.

She is really wanting to build up her writing abilities as I know she has written some editorial food critic type stuff in the local antipodean newspaper, but wants to see what I think of more of her creative ability and give her some constructive criticism.

So I suggested that we both give each other a weekly subject matter and do our best. I'll be putting up both our results.

My subject matter this week is:
An incident that describes/portrays a sense of loneliness in London.

Gina's subject matter this week is:
Take a personally humorous moment within the last week (or before deadline) and discuss why and how you find the subject matter funny.

So I suppose … stay tuned to round one!

Comments;

Jo heading to South Africa for a few weeks
Damo is heading back to Australia this weekend
Laura (Brad's housemate) left to Australia on Monday
Paula left for Australia on Tuesday
Sam is detoxing and doing the whole health stint, I'm finding it quite amusing
Liz (from work) heading back home to Australia on the weekend - will need to catch up with her when I get back
Lindsey back from India with David, was suppose to meet up last night for dinner but work has been driving me into the ground, catch up with her soon.. she says she has a present for me.
DeeDee in Enos, I accidentally rang him on Friday to see what he was up to on the weekend, bastard told me he was going with drinks with friends.... on the lovely island of Enos!
Horse arranged tix to Oktoberfest end of September with Ben and myself.
Wilk's still currently in South Africa and getting flak from the Saffa's after losing last weekends rugga! Sigh....

Sceptic or Romantic?

2005-08-22T21:00:00.000+10:00

Love is risky yes. But you can't have what you want without love I'm afraid, you are speaking of things that only Love would imply and by saying no you are only running away from love and it will bring you sadness. You must take hold of that word and think it is only a word that speaks the obvious truth, but it is something bigger and much brighter, but if you start thinking what the result of it will be and that the destiny of your actions will lead, it will eventually lead that way. So that is why the famous saying is 'Love is blind'. You must treat it as you were blind every time you are involved, you learn from past mistakes and you grow stronger with each opportunity, denying this basic right to yourself just will make you one mean spirited person in the future. I am not a big user of the word 'love' I feel that it is such a small word with such an infinite description that each time I use it, that it loses some of its meaning, so I use it yes, but when and only when it is necessary... ie. hanging up the phone and saying .. 'I love you' every time, makes it inevitably meaningless, thus giving way to little pet names to endear each other and mumbo jumbo which just makes you want to bang your head against the wall repeatably (aye an extreme scenario).

None the less, you will find someone that will make you happy everyone does, however you will never find someone that will make you happy in everything throughout life. Do you want to have yourself a yes man as a boyfriend or someone that actually challenges your way of thinking? Do you want to sleep on the left or right side of the bed throughout your life or actually don't really care on where you sleep as long as you are with him/her? Do you become jealous? Do you argue about the dishes or food or money? Do you take tomorrow as it comes? Do you believe in trust? Does it really all matter?

Each and every relationship is different and that is the beauty about them, finding yourself falling in love with the person is again different, recreating that first kiss with them, never works either, but it doesn't stop you from trying does it.

You know you've been in London too long when

2005-08-22T20:37:00.000+10:00

1. You say "the City" and expect everyone to know which one.
2. You have never been to The Tower or Madame Tussauds but love Brighton
3. You can get into a four-hour argument about how to get fromShepherds Bush to Elephant & Castle at 3:30 on the Friday before along weekend, but can't find Dorset on a map.
4. Hookers and the homeless are invisible.
5. You step over people who collapse on the Tube.
6. You believe that being able to swear at people intheir own language makes you multilingual.
7. You've considered stabbing someone.
8. Your door has more than three locks.
9. You consider eye contact an act of overt aggression.
10. You call an 8' x 10' plot of patchy grass a garden.
11. You consider Essex the "countryside".
12. You think Hyde Park is "nature".
13. You're paying £1,200 a month for a studio thesize of a walk-in wardrobe and you think it's a "bargain".
14. Shopping in suburban supermarkets and shoppingmalls gives you a severe attack of agoraphobia.
15. You pay more each month to park your car thanmost people in the UK pay in rent.
16. You pay £3 without blinking for a beer that cost the bar 28p.
17. You actually take fashion seriously.
18. You have 27 different take-away menus next to your telephone.
19. The UK west of Heathrow is still theoretical to you.
20. You're suspicious of strangers who are actually nice to you.
21. Your idea of personal space is no one actually physically standing on you.
22. £50 worth of groceries fit in one plastic bag.
23. You have a minimum of five "worst cab ride ever" stories.
24. You don't hear sirens anymore.
25. You've mentally blocked out all thoughts of the city's air/waterquality and what it's doing to your insides.
26. You live in a building with a larger population than most towns.
27. Your cleaner is Portugese, your grocer isSomali, your butcheris halal,your deli man is Israeli, your landlord is Italian, yourlaundry guy is Philippino, your bartender is Australian, your favouritediner owner is Greek, the watch seller on your corner isSenegalese, yourlast cabbie was African, your newsagent is Indian and your local Englishchippie owner is Turkish.
28. You wouldn't want to live anywhere else until you get married.
29. You roll your eyes and say 'tsk' at the news that someone has thrown himself under a tube train.
30. Your day is ruined if you don't get a copy of Metro on the wayto work.
31.You walk into somebody's path rather than continue walking straight
32.You're still brushing twice daily but you've had your first case of Gingivitis
33.You now think "actually, this steak isn't too bad"
34.You buy bottled water
35.You haven't had a quality dump on the sh*tter for bloody ages
36.You throw 1 and 2 pence coins on the ground
37.You drink Massimo latte's as a matter of course
38.You find the English accent to be a pleasant break from the ordinary...
39.You no longer pick black sh*t out of your nose because your bodies just as polluted on the inside...
40.You sigh with everyone else as you queue to get into the queue which leads to the queue to the toilets

2005-08-03T09:25:00.000+10:00

Well I was going to go to the Ealing Jazz Festival, Liv's birthday party on Saturday and to out for dinner and drinks on Sunday. However managed to cook Jo a meal on Friday and sloth around at her house until Monday morning where I proceeded to take the next two days off work due to the a conformed conscription of needed abscense... ie. the infamous sickie.

During this time I have recuperated to the point of losing my bags under my eyes and have the fresh face a baby! Alas work this week will be filled with smiles and cheered followed by a weekend of getting Luke completely trashed he forgets his own name, signs up for the Jihad Liberation Front and fails detonation on an unused train service in Nebraska....

Tube's are still all chaotic here in London, however as you would get from the government we have the 'reds under the bed' histeria going on, a lot of muslims are getting jacked up and searched, one guy at work has papers now to show police he doesn't need to be searched because he has already been searched (5 other seperate occasions). I think he didn't see the funny when I said 'Maybe you should shave?!' But hey...if you cant smile you could just......

http://www.iamfuckingterrified.com/

Hope you all are well with your cod-pieces!

Fun for the whole family

2005-07-27T22:30:00.000+10:00

Found this ironic - posted on my council's intranet site regarding the home made devices which have been denotating around London;

The Metropolitan Police has advised us the device found in Shepherds Bush had been abandoned in an open area. All the devices found across London had been placed inside dark coloured rucksacks or sports bags. The police confirmed that each bag contained a home made device using the same type of plastic food storage containers, a six and a half litre tub labelled Delta 6250 with a white lid. The containers may also be marked 'Family Containers, Superior Quality'.

All out

2005-07-21T23:44:00.000+10:00

Oh yeh a great start for the Australians at Lords

All out for 190 in the first innings in 40 overs. McGrath bludgeoning a six at the end worth the demise I suppose.

Dedication

2005-07-21T04:00:00.000+10:00

So I was there talking to Alexis last night after she said to me that her new lass (Helen, 15) she has hired, for the shop Alexis has taken over and is now running, had a dream that Alexis had stabbed her.
After laughing about it, I said 'You know when she grows up being her first job and all she will remember that for the rest of her life, and she will tell her friends about dreaming of her boss stabbing her with a knife.'
Alexis looked mortified as I laughed hard, then it got me thinking because clear as day I remember my first jobs.
'What were they?' She said.
'The paper-run and the milk-run.' It was her turn to laugh out loud.
'Hey, I was pretty young... 12-13, did you have a job when you were that young?' I questioned with her shaking her head and a profound 'No'.
'Ahhhh yes I remember like it was yesterday.....'
And I lit up a cigarette sat in my rocking chair and away I went..........

My first job was the paper-run. It existed from a corner shop outside Minto train station where I never frequented because it was never where I went unless Craig was going there and I usually bought too many King Cobra snakes (confectionary), but I knew a paper route existed there.

Being young and ambitious of making money because my parents enforced the rule of 'not too much pocket money go get yourself a job' from an early age (yes they finally gave in and gave lunch money in the later years of high school). I set out on pursuing my hearts desire on scoring this ill fated route because Jack, a mate at school had told me one of the lads (little did he tell me there was only Jack and this other guy doing paper routes) was leaving and the shop owner was looking for a kid with a bike.

Har Har... fresh looking do it yourself BMX was awaiting to be strapped with a light brown colored milk crate with enough Oky straps to bungee down Mount Everest. I turn up and learn the route from the lad... bright eyed about money changing hands for the commodity of the all knowing all seeing newspaper (The Sun, Daily Mirror and Sydney Morning Herald [which was never read by the inbreds in Minto]). Learning the route was quite easy after a week, learning the customers a little harder.

So I start off after a week or two training. First stop the council depot of Minto, where men were men and well basically sat around all day. Little to my knowledge I see all these lads and not many buy newspaper, alas they have already bought it in the morning and it's already been read, so I sell a few anyhow. With the sun on my back towards an extension of the route near my house and then into the undergrowth of Minto housing projects. Car's littered the alley ways like old aluminium cans, boys in their hooded jersey's kicked balls and used the F word a little less then the C word, dogs would knawed on anything remotely chewable and mother's with prams would wear tight fitting purple/pink lyra track's which would inevitably never want you to think about marrying nor having sex with women in Minto (ie Camel Toe).

This route was extremely dangerous to a young impressionable lad, such as oneself, trying to make a quick buck. Other lad's wanted the money in your leather pouch, you would hang from your hip like a Western Cowboy with a chip on his shoulder, and the only way you could get away from them was yelling as much F and C words as them and the bigger lad's just wanted your bike and well the only way on getting away from them, was saying you know their mother and call the bluff. There were some strange characters amongst this lot and one of my customers, an old man had cancer of the throat with his little electro-gizmo would freak me out every time he spoke to me, but was cool because his tip was a frozen mars bar which you couldn't eat. One time I thought about collecting aluminium can's on the way, however I found out that the Down Syndrome kid from up the way was doing the same thing and he chased me with a broom handle for a good mile after I picked up a can from outside his house.

Jack finally left after 6 months so I took on the whole two routes then. Yeh Daily Mirror bought out the Sun and really fucked up my output of money so I had to work harder selling the Daily Mirror-Sun or something like that, prices were inflated on magazines and middle class newspaper was now a monopoly people did want to buy, but anyhow, Luke the Newspaper Baron of Minto stuggle on taking over Jack's route.....

So the last part of the route, downhill outside the Government housing into people that had houses, I would see by this time Soccer training, Netball training, people coming home from work, the late busy hour of the main road through Minto and people feasting themselves fat on the 4... yes 4!! fast food joints stacked alongside each other outside 'Minno Mall' (From left to right you had KFC (another job where I earnt my bucks and another story to be told still cannot eat the Potato gravy, Pizza Hut, Mcdonalds - long defined as the mecca for meeting people in Minto and I've must a spent 1000's on thickshakes and junior burgers there, and last but not least Red Rooster proud standing take away of the Tuesday meal deals of Chicken and Chips!).

The last part of the route was where you meet some sane people and some rather insane ones too. There was a blind guy I delivered a paper too... yes blind, don't ask me why I was delivering him a paper, there was a lady who once thought my penis was hanging out of my shorts one day while I was seated on the bike (alas flesh colored bike seats were banned that year and I lost a customer from embarrassment as I stood up to reveal her mistake, but I did thank her for the compliment, although it would of been an ugly looking dick), there was one customer I never met and left money under a pot plant, however his/her fucking greyhound's use to get out and chase me all around wanting a piece of my mars bar, there were two chain smoking dwarves with a pre-rolled behind his ear and looking sour he used to buy the paper and say in some grim English accent about the forkin' weather, and an inbred lady with her inbred kids who use to piss me off with their water pistols - she use to buy the magazines (oh yes the magazines, the old bitty's use to come out for the Women's Weekly each month was a right amusement at 5-6pm seeing them in their pink slippers and matching dressing gown...

[was totally sidetracked there, just received an email from someone who thinks they know me and I don't know who the hell she is... Luke's been drunk again around women]...

so these old bitty's use to give me 5-10 cent tips.. God bless em... stingy pensioners!

Last stop.. THE MINTO PUB! Man that's an ugly place, still probably is, with it's police cars turning up now and then, old women punching the fuck out of old men and talking about their iligitament children. Anyways the pub owner use to give me a free orange juice.. this sir was the life sitting in the pub while I was 12-13 drinking OJ (thinking it was beer) with some of the lowest forms on earth... Ding Ding Ding the rattle of the pokie machines and the low hum of the greyhound racing in the back ground, the smell of cigarettes, beer in the carpets, chairs, walls and roof was amongst it.. I felt like .. I wanted to get out of there as soon as most times.
So back to the old mans newspaper corner shop, where I tallied the day's earning in the back shed where there was a roller door I banged on when I got back. It was calculated at some percentage where I would earn little next to nothing, however the tips bought me home and who wouldn't pay me until weeks end (which was about 20-25 dollars).

So I did this for god knows how long, until the Milk run came along.... another story another day. However it taught me the importance of a little hard work and method along with a smile gets you through most day, home to friends and away from the insanity of other homes.

Post is dedicated to 'Lady' 1999-2005 RIP

My dear and true friend and my only love who knew all my secrets, I'll miss your woo-woo-woo's babe!

- Birthday was great, check out the photo gallery for photos, Denmark was extremely hot and very relaxing and now back at work
- Love box festival this Saturday
- Lindsey birthday this Friday out for drinks in Clapham
- Sam has started working for Ealing Council so be plenty of after work drinks for me and him
- Wilko is remaining in Australia until September for a breif stint in England

Birtyday Eve

2005-07-01T04:06:00.000+10:00

7pm staying back to draw up a few adverts for accountants and I need to 'sex' it up a little as my illustrious HR director put it to me today, 'Oh and I want them by today'... this was at 3pm and the look in my eyes I think made her change her mind.. 'Friday I mean.'

So I'm sitting at the desk with my whole big 'OUTSIDE THE BOX' hat on and come to the realisation about 30 minutes ago when I said to a very empty rabbit warren office,

How the fuck am I going to sex up an accountant role.. it's the most boring job in the world!

The cleaner comes over and says ... 'Keh?' I think she thinks I'm mad, she's about 20 and quite alright and I was here last Friday until 8pm talking to myself, and she has been wiping down desks and for the last few months and all we have done is just smiled pleasantly, I just thought she was shy, I found out she can hardly speak English.

So I say when she comes over last week to wipe down our tables;
'Why you all dressed up?' Now she dresses surprising good for a cleaner, like ready to hit the town after work... so I make a quick question to get the quick response.
The eyes tell me straight away she didn't understand a word I said... 'You are all dressed out ready to go out after work.'
'No I finish at 9.' She says. I scratch my head.
'Oohh kay.' Knowing this discussion isn't going to get too far, I go back to my desk. But little to my surprise she wants to continue this weird conversation.
'You live .. near by?'
'Ohh yeh just up the road.' My male ego in the pants caused sensations of quick hot sex with the cleaner for some reason because she asked me where I lived. Down boy DOWN!
'Do you live close by too?' I ask, trying to keep the sexual inuendo out of the tone of voice.
'No.' she says. I hate those pauses you get in conversation when people can't relate to another question.
'Ohh kay - what are you doing this weekend?' I ask, vague question easy to answer and easy to lie to.
'Nothing much.. watch video maybe listen music.'
'Okay, not going for a drink?' This is where I make my mistake as from the expression on her face.
'Maybe.. another time.'
'No No... ' I laugh jumbling words into my laughter and I think she takes offense to it also, and I say... 'Ok I'm going home, have a good weekend.'
'Yeh ok you too.'
Shaking my head on the way down in the elevator and reminds me of the people you do meet here in England. Speaking with her again tonight, I find out her name is Hanata she's 24 and she is from Brazil (soon as she said it, my mind flips out to a Brazilian wax and I'm nearly done for again) and she used to be a PA for a large firm back home in Brazil (wax?), however she is up at 4:30am each morning doing another job and comes to clean at the Town Hall from 5pm until 9pm and gets home at 10pm. I don't mind so much in working back now, and am grateful for the work I accomplish in doing so, that and I have a date with the cleaner for English lessons in a couple weeks time. I found out she wanted to know the meaning 'Why are you all dressed up?' because she had never heard it before, so I wrote it down on some paper.

Senior Accountant
Financial services
Up to £34,900
Ref: CD040W

Hey do you where a pocket protector and know all classes of Casio calculators and have a full run down on pencils quality with working knowledge of every database system known to mankind oh... and have the mental capacity of Einstein but the social capacity of a gnat!

Come talk to us at Ealing we'll set you amongst the rest of the pigeons!

Closing date: 15th July 2005.

Mission complete - power shutdown on PC and home I go!

2005-07-01T04:01:00.000+10:00

In light of my couple weeks of slogging non-stop at this damn desk I have compiled a list to be passed out due to my tongue being completly bitten off! Highlight I suppose is tomorrow I will be leaving work early for my birthday!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It has been brought to management's attention that some individuals throughout the company have been using foul language during the course of normal conversation with their co-workers.

Due to complaints received from some employees who may be easily offended, this type of language will no longer be tolerated.We do however, realize the critical importance of being able to accurately express your feelings when communicating with co-workers.

Therefore, a list of 18 New and Innovative phrases have been. Provided so that proper exchange of ideas and information can continue in an effective manner.

1) TRY SAYING:I think you could use more training.
INSTEAD OF:You don't know what the fuck you're doing.

2) TRY SAYING:She's an aggressive go-getter.
INSTEAD OF:She's a ball-busting bitch.

3) TRY SAYING:Perhaps I can work late.I
INSTEAD OF:And when the fuck do you expect me to do this?

4) TRY SAYING:I'm certain that isn't feasible.
INSTEAD OF:No fucking way.

5) TRY SAYING:Really?
INSTEAD OF:You've got to be shiting me!

6) TRY SAYING:Perhaps you should check with...
INSTEAD OF:Tell someone who gives a shit.

7) TRY SAYING:I wasn't involved in the project.
INSTEAD OF:It's not my fucking problem.

8) TRY SAYING:That's interesting.
INSTEAD OF:What the fuck?

9) TRY SAYING:I'm not sure this can be implemented.
INSTEAD OF:This shit won't work.

10) TRY SAYING:I'll try to schedule that.
INSTEAD OF:Why the fucking hell didn't you tell me sooner?

11) TRY SAYING:He's not familiar with the issues.
INSTEAD OF:He's got his head up his ass.

12) TRY SAYING:Excuse me, sir?
INSTEAD OF:Eat shit and die.

13) TRY SAYING:So you weren't happy with it?
INSTEAD OF:Kiss my ass.

14) TRY SAYING:I'm a bit overloaded at the moment.
INSTEAD OF:Fuck it, I'm on salary.

15) TRY SAYING:I don't think you understand.
INSTEAD OF:Shove it up your ass.

16) TRY SAYING:I love a challenge.
INSTEAD OF:This job sucks.

17) TRY SAYING:You want me to take care of that?
INSTEAD OF:Who the hell died and made you boss?

18 ) TRY SAYING:He's somewhat insensitive.
INSTEAD OF:He's a prick.

Thank You,
Luke Sheridan
Human Resources

Useless

2005-06-16T21:23:00.000+10:00

In the 1400's a law was set forth that a man was notallowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker thanhis thumb. Hence we have "the rule of thumb"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Many years ago in Scotland, a new game was invented.It was ruled "Gentlemen Only...Ladies Forbidden"...andthus the word GOLF entered into the English language.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Every day more money is printed for Monopoly than theUS Treasury.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Men can read smaller print than women can; women canhear better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coca-Cola was originally green.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is impossible to lick your elbow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each king in a deck of playing cards represents agreat king from history:Spades - King DavidHearts - CharlemagneClubs -Alexander, the GreatDiamonds - Julius Caesar
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If a statue in the park of a person on a horse hasboth front legs in the air, the person died in battle.If the horse has one front leg in the air the persondied as a result of wounds received in battle. If thehorse has all four legs on the ground, the person diedof natural causes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?
A. Honey
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bedframes by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes themattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on.Hence the phrase......... "goodnight, sleep tight."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was the accepted practice in Babylon 4,000 yearsago that for a month after the wedding, the bride'sfather would supply his son-in-law with all the meadhe could drink. Mead is a honey beer and because theircalendar was lunar based, this period was called thehoney month ... which we know today as the honeymoon.
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In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts...So in old England, when customers got unruly, thebartender would yell at them "Mind your pints andquarts, and settle down." It's where we get the phrase"mind your P's and Q's"
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Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had awhistle baked into rim, or handle, of their ceramiccups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistleto get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phraseinspired by this fact.
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Michael Jackson is guilty as sin!
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At least 75% of people who read this will try to licktheir elbow make that 76% it cant be done.
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Monolith

2005-06-08T22:43:00.000+10:00

Today I found the true meaning of writer's block. I sit staring thinking of maybe something poniant are amusing which has happened and I cannot think nor remember of one. Maybe it's because nothing has happened which could be. So I sit here listening to colleagues talking about how sweet the apples are from Marks & Spencers at the moment, have I been eating enough fruit, I think to myself. Now I see a senior consultant rock in at 1:30pm and nobody batters an eyelid, damn part-time seniors, jealousy overcomes me as I know outside the sun is shining and it's quite warm, wanting it to beat down on my own pale translucent skin for some sign of I've been out in the sun, alas I am locked away on the fourth floor of this office block looking at the 'ants' and 'Matchbox cars' drive along the main roads surrounding the Town hall.

Even with the temporary lapse of overrall council concentration with a fire alarm today, I managed to sneak away for 20 minutes to grab coffee and something to eat this morning, only to find my lighter not wanting to light my own cigarette, and me not wanting to patiently stop someone with a lit cigarette to ask for a light I place it back into the pack and walk back to the office block to see the 'wage-slaves' are lining up and walking back into the grey monolith. So as a true conformist during the week I join the endless line of dull faces and walk up the flights of stairs to get back to my desk. Laughter echoes about the walkways, their laughter is unamusing - they laugh at silliness and it feels that they only laugh because the job they face has become so mundane and lifeless that they need to recognise some sign of happiness (for example my colleagues are talking about drinking water and laughing about that, although one did say 'On a hot day I can swallow, I can tell you that much.') of their life which dulls them down 5 days a week.

So I'm part of the cogs of process and when people now ask me what I do, I don't say what I do with pride, HR is not a totally fulfilling job I have realised again, alas I stick with it to pay my way and get me to the next week etc. etc. etc.

So maybe I should apply for that job I have in mind while I scoff at myself some more....

Alt-tab is a sign that you can multi-task your laziness at work too.

Engrish!

2005-06-07T21:17:00.000+10:00

Sride the grass.. Ruke-san!!!

Fixed

2005-06-07T11:04:00.000+10:00

Phew...

Safe mode actually has its uses on Windows XP - just needed to change my old windows xp user names over to the new user!

I knew I would find them somehow - now to fix all the other crap too.

Weekend

2005-06-07T01:58:00.000+10:00

Big weekend just passed - Friday night went to a friends DJ set at Old Street, Trafik, which was good to catch up with Liv and the other guys, luckily persuaded by Liv in going home before the tube stopped running. Saturday night Brad and Ben's party at Leciester Square, Zoo Bar. Highly intoxicating and highly charged night. Sunday hung over but managed to drag myself out to Shepherds Bush Walkabout to meet up with Paula and her friends for her farewell, left there about 11pm last night. Monday morning hang overs and eeeerrrr feelings.

Now I'm not happy at the moment, my windows xp decided to crash, tried repairing which didnt help, so copied new Windows XP over top thinking by some chance the My Documents folder may remain intact.

It didn't and lost some data which should not of been lost - ie. 6 months worth of digital photographs which cannot be replaced, including Contiki tour and many parties and happy adventures, a lot of writing, documents and other stuff I have collected. The mp3's and applications can be replaced however it's a nuisance to do that all over again.

So a little angry at it all :(

Cie la vie.

Fly in my soup?

2005-05-31T21:29:00.000+10:00

Food containing any traces of garlic should be banned within a work environment, can't these people eat lunch away from their desks? The sun is actually shining outside and their is a park across the road, but no they sit at there desks and discuss how lovely the bread they got from Sainsbury's is causing me to dry wretch as it smells like old socks and crutch.

Funny the snippets of conversation you hear in an open planned office. Try sitting in someone else's chair for a few hours and see the outlook on life they get for a day. I sit facing towards a window and I get to see people come in and out of the office as I also face the doors. I also have the in and out tray hovering over my desk and the water cooler - so everyone docks by my desk and must see the internet abuse I do over my lunch break (yes I work through lunch mostly and I don't eat at my desk, except for the bagel in the morning with coffee). I just smelt Salmon... damn it why fish! I suppose it's better than Sardines as if I smelt that I would tell them to shove those slimy filthy stinky things up their own ass.

Apart from that last weekend happening to be a long weekend, was again a quiet one. I've long decided the party life is on a hold and that once a weekend (if that) is all it needs for me to continue my social decree of abstainance. Currently organising my birthday at Abacus for July 1st with Horse who is hopefully designing a funky invite. Horse and Bradders just got from Malta over the weekend, they have been doing a lot of travelling, hence to say that I havent and everyone else has been.

The boys are trying to get a week away together, possibly Portugal, towards the end of July as tickets are cheap. Hoping to have time off by then for it.

Nothing too exciting in the household. Chris the new English lad is quite the funny guy from Sheffield, as I've been having a few drinks with him of late. Ulandi (spelling?) is the new South African lass into the barracks upstairs, not much to say about her as she as dull as a butter knife and as Praetorian as an Afrikaan can be.... getting closer and closer for me to move out of that place - but I do bide my time!

This Saturday is Bradder's and Ben's birthday at the Zoo bar in Leciester Square (after they were told it was such a bad place on the weekend, it might change) so it should be good days...

It's a salmon salad with sun dried tomatoes - looks good - doesn't make it smell any good though.

Errghh

2005-05-27T19:00:00.000+10:00

Woke up in completely the wrong end of London this morning and lost as hell, found out when I got to work it's one of the worst places to be in London to be, I guess I should of realised this when I asked some guy for directions to the tube and he just smiled at me and all his teeth were silver....

My head now hurts and I'm downing enough OJ and Coffee to sustain living!

Place and time

2005-05-19T21:11:00.000+10:00

So I'm sitting on the tube Tuesday evening on the way to meet up with Liv (who I haven't caught up with since she has been here, very slack of me). My headphones dug deep into my ear and I'm flicking through some Australian tunes, I always like to put my IPOD on random usually has a good mix to delve out, however reminds me I have a number of songs to kill off too in it. Anywho I've looked up and there are advertisements within the Tube system, and these were promoting Gordon's Gin, clever uses of pictures and words and highly colorful, 3 in total and I was just looking at each from left to right. 19 out of 20 berries arent good enough for Gordon's Gin.. next.. We use Lemongrass and Ginger to make Gordon's Gin.. next .. It's a slow process using sloe berries to make Gordon's Gin.. then I look at fourth and last advertisement in the spacing... Berocca gives you back your bounce. I laughed aloud and people looked up from their afternoon commute, now I could explain it too them, which I didnt I just stared at them with a large grin... this girl sitting next to me got it I think, either that or I think she just smiled at my outburst of laughter.

Anyone else seen advertisement that has made them laugh like that?

I should be in product placement I think.

Meeting up with the lads this weekend - they wish to delve into planning trips away together. Joy I'm trying to pay off a credit card and these guys want to fill it back up again.

Errr get me a bucket!

2005-05-17T02:23:00.000+10:00

And the American's are wondering why that their young generation is becoming obese and have fat ankles and will pass down their hearts to their generations;

http://www.hardees.com/menu (link fixed)

Funny thing is that Hardee's actually look like they promote this type of thing to the public, yeh you know you want some type of attitude, thing is they are probably right. After looking at that I will continue my regime against all take-away stores... except of course the Hungry One, Northfields where the Amercian style burgers are the best at 2am in the morning!

I think we going to need another bucket!

I'm the best plucker here

2005-05-10T10:26:00.000+10:00

Get your twangers out and play with your balls!

http://rainbow.arch.scriptmania.com/rainbow_tv_episode.html

Lost and Found

2005-05-06T09:31:00.000+10:00

Expectation looms and dies and dies and dips and reappears and each time is greater or lesser or just completely unexpected.
And we greet or we run or we seek desperately .
Or we sigh.
And when we wear it everyone can see plainly and like a siren for those we dream for and deliberate and repeat and those that eat up all our time.
And we wear sunglasses darker than the thoughts that keep us from sleeping or we scream it out because we know and defy those that have loved and lifted and raised and helped and made us who we are, we walk away from them, knowing that that's what we are doing and we believe, we believe because you're essentially alone if you don't believe and all the other dreams are slowly not ever going to be a reality so we cling to the one that doesn't require a salary or a home or a principle or a motivation or even an inspiration - it just makes you feel good
Some people get it right - some people don't and then that becomes enough.
Who says?

Little frogs are everywhere,
And their limbs are impossible and so we watch.
We are bored, we haven't jumped enough,
We've never jumped.
How hard is it to rip open your lip with a tin opener?
How hard is it when you punch a old man who's nose is red, red like the canyons in his eyes and his voice?

Chewing fat

2005-05-04T23:30:00.000+10:00

Who says the world is your oyster, when they don't like the taste themselves. Running around like frightened sheep amongst the mass throng of crowds, when you know a shepherd can herd you but your wool is black. Who decides what is right and wrong when you read if they turned left or right, we do not judge we just make judgements, unclear and precise subjectivity. Why does it make people think about the label and not about the effect nor the square they are so comfortably planted like a one hundred year old oak protected by the family around it, who holds that axe aloft for you? Where do you bide your time and place your knowledge and advice when it is so evident you are troubled like the teenager you still are and the baggage you hold onto like a pain snail seeps its murk around behind you. You bow down to your false pretences and mark me with your burnt stick and make me feel your guilt that I do not want nor need, you are nothing but your own wants and needs. What knowledge have you to offer me when I only want your love, like the first puppy you had or the first born a mother smiles at. When do you feel your mighty branches swaying in the wind when there has never been a cloud drifting over your heads in years, you catch stars which are not there and try wrapping them in tissue paper to hand off as cheap souvenirs to people, they are not yours to give. How many eggs in your basket do you count daily and then kick the hen that cannot provide for you today, it is only natures course and you are never to make it divert down the long road you once thought you travelled. Fire your arrows at me, I am just a target for your self-indifference, your lust for life is with me and you are jealous like the green monster of envy, greener then the football pitch your played on as a child, greener than the person that did not love you. What hopes do you make and when do you give up on them in a rigged lottery that stamps out the flames with a torrent of tears.

5 minutes with Luke

2005-05-03T21:13:00.000+10:00

1. What time did you get up this morning?
Time has no relevance, making it to work on-time does
2. Diamonds or pearls?
Obviously this was made for a female, what the fuck would I want with either. Sell them I suppose.
3. What was the last movie you saw?
Watched Dodgeball & Roadtrip last night because I was bored and I laughed my head off.
"It's like watching a bunch of retards fuck a door knob!"
4. What is your favourite TV show?
I don't mind ER, always have enjoyed the stories. I suppose it's like watching Star Trek, all those big words they throw about in a rush and panic, you don't know what the hell they are talking about, but it sounds cool.
5. What did you have for breakfast?
Ham & Cheese Toasted, Pint of fresh apple juice and a Latte
6. What is your middle name?
Edward.. just call me Ed
7. What is your favourite cuisine?
Thai
8. What foods do you dislike?
Eat mostly anything, even tried fresh asparagus for the first time the other week, my mother made me hate it because it looked awful tinned, that and she use to chase me around the kitchen with it. I suppose organ's would be the correct answer (except kidney)
9. What is your favourite chip flavour?
CC's Mexicano
10. What is the last 3 CD's you have bought?
Interpol - Antics, Chemical Brothers - Push the button, Gotan Project - La Revancha Del Tango
11. What kind of car do you drive?
Julius Marlow
12. Favourite sandwich?
Ham, cheese, avocado, mayo toasted
13. What characteristic do you despise?
Judgement
14. Favourite items of clothing?
Jeans
15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would
you go?
South America
16. What colour is your bathroom?
White... apart from the disgusting paint peeling and the land lord not fixing the showerhead and... and... I'm angry now, how dare you ask me that question!
17. Favourite brands of clothing?
Soul Brother/Blunt/Merrell
18. Where would you retire to?
A place called home
19. Favourite time of the day?
When someone says - "Want to go for a drink?"
20. What was your most memorable birthday?
Went to a really good one about a month ago.
21. Where were you born?
Camperdown, Sydney
22. Favourite sport(s) to watch?
Rugby, Football.. Darts ONE HUNDRED ANNDDDD EEEEIIIIGGHHHHHTTTEEEEEE!!!!
23 Who do you least expect to send this back to you?
The new pope
24. Person you expect to send it back first?
Don't care, not interested really in other people, I'm so self involved :D
25. What fabric detergent do you use?
Like I ca... it cleans cloths and really this survey was going well until it got to this, you going to be clutching at straws for the rest now.
26. Coke or Pepsi?
Coke
27. Are you a morning person or a night owl?
Hoot Hoot
28. What is your shoe size?
14 - yes and its true...big shoes... big socks!
29. Do you have any pets?
In London no...
30. Any words of wisdom you'd like to share with your friends?
Don't talk to me when I'm busy...like the person sitting next to me at work is talking to me...driving me nuts!!! Like I care about what you bought at the shop just now!
31. What did you want to be when you were little?
Fire Engine!
32. What are you doing today?
Not being able to do my work because of programming glitch in advert submissions, thus waiting for it to be fixed, which it won't be and knowing the phone calls I will get tomorrow if it isn't. So therefore I will now have to talk to all the consultants in relation to the glitch and explain to them why.
33. What state do you live in?
three states:
feigned indifference, childlike and self involvement (stole this one off Lindsey)
34. Who is the last person you want to see when your life on earth is
over?
Last person -> some guy named Bubba who wants to make me squeal like a pig...
Last thing -> Waking up to see the inside lid of a coffin!
35. What is the farthest this will travel to reach a friend?
Mars - hello Bob!

An email to Sam

2005-04-27T20:31:00.000+10:00

Be happy when the week is over like most people - fucked up payroll last week and it's a bit of a chain reaction with a few things - so name is mud. Nothing huge just human error, but you know you hate when you make big mistakes and people are saying don't worry about it. I've got a good team. Currently looking after the Ealing government employment for advertisment of vacancies via the internet for the borough, and running out contracts and legal binding doc's to people and fixing payscales and the such. All totally new to me and will get boring I'd say in months to come - but hey it's money in the bank at the moment.

Funny how you stand back and look at your job and think - damn what I do does effect a lot of people, and I realise how important my role can be during the week and how much reliance is put on me - not stressful, just haven't had it in a long while - been going through the last 2 years blind and more worried about how much I will get paid at the end of the week. I still do this, but I just realise that what I'm doing at the moment has a concentrated role for Human Resources and it's good to be called up, asked questions or given something and get it fixed.

I never really ask the guys on what they actually do at work to much, is that wrong? I know what they do and all, and I sat down with your brother the other week and he gave me a headsup on what he does which I found really interesting (reminds me - he has the photos now hehehe).

Lately I feel I have lost my mojo for some reason - it feels I haven't been lucky with the women on what I used to be, and trying to figure out what may have changed say now and 6 months ago when I couldn't keep up with the women, maybe I looked healthier back then, as I looked at myself in the mirror - which I do, I'd say on quite a regular session. It's more of looking at your face, non-vain approach, and see the bag's under your eyes and the wrinkles forming and the white skin. Need to start running again.

What are we missing in life Sam? What is it that keeps up smiling? I'm not depressed or anything, just a thought about it all, we just go about our damn lives and strive for something and may never eventually get there, and in the end you are left dejected at the thought of it all. - I can't wait to be financially stable again, and I'm looking forward to Denmark in July.

Work is good, had a shit month which I'd like the forget again and I start playing touch rugby in May with some Kiwi's I haven't even met yet... might set some goals next month as well to do for myself.

1) have sex
2) enjoy having sex
3) rinse and repeat
--->just kidding :)

How about yourself mate? All good on the front-line? Enjoyed our jiving on Saturday. By the way, what is it with Karlie's crew, it felt like I was just a number to turn up there for her and I really don't think I will finding myself turning up to too many of her shin-digs in the future, was good to meet Brad's girlfriends though.
l8r g8r

Weekend ahead

2005-04-22T20:54:00.000+10:00

Caught up with Ben H. on Monday, haven't seen him in 8 years. Discussed mostly about his life, which seems to be on the run from something or another. But I felt empowered when we went our separate ways. His life seemed so obscured with the fact and irrational decisions he has made and continues to make, making my own life somewhat Trivial Pursuit Beginners level. I tried telling him about a small fortune that he has amassed through ruthless gambling, that maybe it was telling him it was time to quit his losses and start afresh and not to look on the life lead to look on the life in prospect ahead... His answer was not what was needed to hear and I thought it wasn't going to be me who would change his mind, but something bigger and larger which will kick him in the ass and make him re-think a life lead the wrong way. He flew out to Turkey the next day to catch up with Craig who was going to Anzac day in Gallipoli.

Simone and I have departed our separate ways finally, nothing too much to explain here, knew it was over as soon as the phone calls stopped coming frequently and her time was always busy. Made the decision to ring her the other day and finally call it off, echoes my constant decision not to form a relationship with someone as unstable as I and as young as 21.

Retail therapy is such a good excuse to make ones life happier for a small fraction. The pastel pink is crawled its way back into male society and I am yet to make the decision on buying a shirt, wearing it and looking it at in my cupboard like some other choices people make. So I decided on the white sneakers instead and I'm looking like a golfer without his clubs. But hey fashion is only a crime if you wear it at the wrong time.

Heading off to Karlie's birthday tonight at Sugar Reef, but going to make a short appearance and head home for the weekend of nothing, and collect thoughts, do a few things and basically sit back and hear the click-shhhh of the can’s of beer I will be opening from time to time. Might catch up with Andy on Sunday if the sun is bright and stare at the women walking buy at the nearest pub in Ealing.

Deedee has got back from Eastern Europe so I will be keen to hear the tales of adventure. He has put forward a decision to do the Trans-Siberian next July and I've always been quite keen on this idea so I'll be saving up some cash for it - however I do believe that Adam wants to go to Germany for the football next year or was that 2007?

Finally got to see Sam's pad last Saturday as I dragged some of the guys back to his house with a slab of beer and got drunk listening to a CD he made for the trip up to Edinburgh, but couldn't use because of there was no CD player in the car. Sat around his house on Sunday watching Hero and going through photo's I developed, which had been sitting around for the last 6 months, some funny pictures in there - including Venice.

Decided it was time to move as well, so I decided to move into a bigger room into the house and loving it too. Negotiated my way for a 20 quid extra a month for it and probably saved 40. Lindsey is moving out next week and it's going to be sad to see her go, she is heading down to Clapham.

Weekend ahead

Let our time continue.

From the distant shores.

Reflected upon lost innocence,

With our pursuits of youth.

Little do we know,

That we are older.

Seldom content nor fortunate,

Yet wishing to be wiser.

Charging the brewery,

Seeking to imbibe another,

And to laugh our merry song.

Nursing heads in the morrow.

Rally the banner for one more.

Us soldiers of leisure,

Searchers of the glory,

Remembering the fallen.