I want it thaaat waaaay

Second one from the left - right Sharz? :)

I downloaded a Loverboy album tonight. I should be ashamed to come out and say that - but my choices in the 80's weren't always as classic as I'd like them to be.
To this day I remember learning some Loverboy songs on my first guitar - knowing in my heart the band was so cool.

I wonder, even now, if I have any idea what cool is?
If you have to ask, the answer is probably no.

The first album I brought was a Beach Boys LP, and today that stacks up pretty well in the credibility stakes - but, if you asked me at the time I would have lied and mentioned something like Pat Benatar, The Cars or Kiss.

At fifteen if someone had played me some Stones, Led Zep, Rainbow, Springsteen or Sabbath, I know I would have hated it. For the same reason today, I try not to mock the latest boy band effort on mainstream radio or tv, even though I can hear my inner child trying his hardest.

When it comes down to it, I guess the secret of musical chi is listening to a lot of different genre's - and being honest about your love of music - even if it is the Backstreet Boys.

The Real News

Must have been a slow news day - maybe nothing else of merit happened elsewhere in the world.



[from sideswipe]



For those who missed TV One's Close Up on Tuesday night, here is a brief account of the item, arguably the second most important event that happened in New Zealand in the previous 48 hours, from John Christiansen of Mt Albert: "Nicky Watson lost her chihuahua. Well, after numerous clips of Nicky nearly falling out of various dresses followed by clips of Nicky wandering around day and night with torch in hand calling out for her little lost pet, the interviewer finally sat down for a little heart-to-heart with Ms Watson. Recounting her tale of woe Nicky, voice strained with overuse and emotion, says, 'I must have called his name a million times', to which the interviewer kindly responds, trying to empathise: 'You're hoarse.' 'No', replies Nicky sadly, 'my dog'."

Confessional

In truth - there is much to write; to say.
An attempt to be direct is well overdue
But the thought of what demons may arise from such misadventure
might keep me awake at night
And frighten Miss Muffet away :)

No Muse

Nope - nothing .............

The visual tonal balance of this clip is inspiring tho. Makes me want to put a roll of black and white through my Nikon. The frame composition is inspiring as well.

Pet Sounds

Paul McCartney stated that this was "the most beautiful song ever written"...

Musically I love the complexity of this tune - it goes in directions you'd least expect, and takes you along for a glorious ride. Is lovely to think that people can still identify with a tune written over 40 years ago; perhaps because true love never goes out of style.

I may not always love you
But long as there are stars above you
You never need to doubt it
I'll make you so sure about it
God only knows what Id be without you

You love me how much?

I was working late tonight. While I was listening to talk-back radio, a woman rang in and asked the announcer whether she should buy a trampoline or computer for her two daughters Christmas gift.

The caller went on to mention that she had saved $300 for the trampoline, but would have to arrange a hire purchase agreement to raise the deficit in order to afford the computer.
I thought about her quandary; more specifically around the financial burden a computer would add once the interest on the loan was repaid. Still - through these thoughts, something was bothering me.

The caller hung up eventually, and the advertisements started to play - the first, ironically, for a firm that loaned money. The sales pitch was that if you borrowed money, your kids Christmas would be a lot more enjoyable. The muted response of the disappointed child giving way to the excited scream for the gift they really wanted played in the background; I started to feel more than a little angry.

When a parents love is measured by their ability to provide their children with "worthy" gifts, I wonder what lesson it teaches us. Not one I care to learn anyway.

Born to Run

Reasons why time machines should be invented.

1) So I could be here...



This video always make me smile. The crowds, the music. Amazing that this is the era of the new romantic genre. I brought Born to Run in the late 80's - and I still love the album. Bruce is the best.

The screen door slams, Mary's dress sways
Like a vision she dances across the porch. As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again, I just can't face myself alone again

What the kiddies are listening to

Makes a pleasant change from Justin Timberlake.

Some Kiwi music to rock the weekend out with. Enjoy :)

Atlas - Is this real?

This track is pretty good too - if you're interested in hearing more from this band.

Bionics Woman abound!

Lindsay Wagner

OK - I admit it - In the 70's I had a thing for The Bionic Woman. I always hoped that Jamie Sommers would recover from her amnesia and marry her true love Steve Austin. I worried however, that such a union, would potentially ruin the life of any potential children.
Imagine - If your dad had an horrific accident whilst testing a forerunner to the space shuttle, and your mum had a horrific accident whilst parachuting, and both had to be reconstructed with bionics afterward - wouldn't you look twice before crossing the street? I know I would.

With all this pre-teen angst burning in the recesses of my mind - I tuned into the new "re-imagined" Bionic Woman on TV. Good news - the New Bionic Woman has exorcised all those demons of old. The bad plots, bad bad BAD writing and one (count em - ONE) dimensional characters, have taken away my pain of unrequited love for Jamie and Steve. I thank you New Bionic Woman.

There is however, an unexpected problem - It appears in all this confusion that I can no longer stop watching the new show. No-one is more horrified than I. Dog my Cats indeed!

But why why why???
Is it because I'm waiting for the scripts to get better ? (unlikely)
Perhaps I'm waiting the plot to arrive in an upcoming episode?
(Who can tell - so far no sign)
The thought that I might have a thing for the new (note: new spelling) Jaime Sommers, is keeping me up at night. The idea that this latest hussy could replace the lovely Lindsay Wagner is abhorrent to my 70's sensibilities.

Michelle Ryan - the New Bionic Woman

I do however have to announce the best thing since sliced bread is here and is the ever delightful Katee "Starbuck" Sackhoff who plays a lovely over the top character on the show - who also happens to be a bionic woman. Go kick her butt Katee!

Katee Sackhoff - My hero

It's a complicated plot type thing people - you just wouldn't understand. :)

Oh my beloved snooze button

I've been losing on the sleep front recently. Being a night owl doesn't help when your alarm wakes you at 0600. I have to admit the mornings have been pretty rough of late.

But, you know, I've come to realise - if I could just bottle and sell the sleep I get between hitting the snooze button every morning, I'd be a very, very rich man.

I live for those four - five minute spaces of nirvana between presses. 6:20am comes all too soon.

I so need a clock that allows you to snooze forever!

Just keep swimming

"Make your own luck" she said.

I had no idea what she meant, but the have words stuck with me for over 15 years.

"You'll never run with the gangsters, but you're not a lucky person - you must make your own luck. Remember you saw me in the year of the Horse."

And then she was gone, leaving a memory - a moment I cant forget.

These are the memories that stay with you, along with all the others you'd rather forget. The missed opportunities, viewed with 20:20 hindsight are the worst - times when different decisions could have shaped a different life - if one was so inclined.
What will be - will be, was the way I looked at life. I didn't realise that through this all, I was waiting for luck to make me.

It's funny that some people would think I plan too much, when in the harsh light of day, I know I never planned at all. Drifting, I took what was offered - maybe more, and for the longest time that was fine. Yes, I know what's done is done. Yes - I know you cant go back and do it over again. But that's the problem isn't it. Knowing all this doesnt make it any better.

I guess the saving grace for us all is the knowledge that part of coping in this life, involves a certain acceptance of who we are - not what we could have been.

Perhaps you find yourself asking;

How do I measure up?
Am I a good person?
Are my motives pure?

The questions we ask differs for each of us. Some people, true to their form, never ask these questions of themselves: we are all so different.

All those words of comfort are fine and dandy, but all the acceptance in the world is cold comfort, when we know the past is set in stone. Perhaps this is the only real truth we have.
But, when life affords you look at what could have been, it's harder to accept a different outcome - realising it was your own fault for not making your own luck a little more often.

The gypsy was right - I just didn't quite understand until now.

Temperature Check 2

Because any other clip today would be crap.

Shut your eyes

Shut your eyes and think of somewhere
Somewhere cold and caked in snow
By the fire we break the quiet
Learn to wear each other well

Thankyou Lady Di

No - not that one - this one.



Go here. I laughed my head off - and at the same time felt more than a little sad.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.... He's talented 'tis all, and very very honest.

Where the hell is my ham?

At the end of a nasty cold - i shrugged off my need for sleep, and ventured out into the sun in search of a toasted sandwich.
Our local mall surely has the worst cafe's in Auckland. I often find myself traveling far from home in search of good food coupled with a good atmosphere - it's a futile task. Such a places belong in television sit-coms, where the couch in the middle is always available for your friends: never the twain shall meet.
When I ordered my cheese/ham/onion toasted sandwich, I was full of high hopes. These hopes were dashed as the tragedy unfolded in front of my very eyes: the ham was missing.
Things however, had improved since the last time I had ordered here; once after ordering a burger from the cafe blackboard menu, the cafe presented me with a double eggs benedict.
So - who should I be today? Should I eat my ham-less sandwich in the hope that there was a lesson to be learn't here - by taking less would life offer me something more, somewhere else? Should I instead send back the toasted sandwich for a ham insertion procedure - full knowing the risks of sending food back to ANY kitchen.

As the miliseconds passed, I realised that I simply pick the fights I want to win, and although I should always take people to task for their inactions - I'd rather they take themselves instead; another battle I can never win, no matter how much I wish I could.

And to think this post started out about food.

The beauty of words

I feel time like a heartbeat, the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning.
The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal, threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained - not in youth - but only in its passage.
I feel these words, (as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me) knowing that you will read them and share my burden, as I have come to trust no other.
That you should know my heart, look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you (that are you) is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose and the prospects darken for the continuance of a journey that began not so long ago, and which began again with a faith shaken - strengthened by your convictions.
If not for which, I might never have been so strong now, as I cross to face you and look at you - incomplete, hoping that you will forgive me for not making the rest of the journey with you.

Chris Carter - Memento Mori

Harsh language - you have been warned

We live in sad times. Now, more than any other time in my so called life, I'm acutely aware of my personal liberties slipping through my fingers.

On prime time news they devote nearly two minutes on how to wash hands, at the same time telling me that 58 percent of men don't after going to the bathroom. What they fail to mention is that the highest concentration of fecal matter is on the taps in that very same bathroom. So do you - or don't you?

They are planning to ban private fireworks sales - no doubt in an attempt to protect us from ourselves - preferring that we pay to see professional displays - when if fact, more people were injured at professional shows this year.

I read somewhere that Intelligent Design, is raising its head again, and somewhere else that it would take twenty years to get a man on the moon again (if we got them there in the first place). Maybe we shouldn't aim so high? Can you feel it happening around you? the averageness of it all...

For all our gains here on Earth - Of late I feel we are devolving as a species. Perhaps it's because there's not enough lead in our diet? Perhaps because we create a society where stupid people aren't allowed to kill themselves by seeing how many fireworks they can light in their mouths?

We are encouraged to be average. In a society where average is king (and wrong is someone else's fault and failure is fine), expectations seem lowered year by year. There exists a tribe who's whole dogma is to create a "one size fits all" society, where no one has to worry about anything anymore. Wrapped in cotton wool - protected from self-harm, there is no life - and little way forward.

In this society it seems the television show Californication shouldn't be allowed to exist. What a load of bollocks. They have to ban something this week I guess.

There should be MORE shows where Nuns (in dream segments) offer blow jobs - where people dare to show their inadequacies, and their desire to evolve, improve if you will.
And to those who strive to show the rest of us the way to live, using their bland and boring lives lives as an example; I have to say - a big Fuck You - while I still can. Because you can bet, if we don't all stand up for what we believe in , they'll have us all burning witches before too long - just wait and see. Puritans have a fine track record, when there are so many infidels for the furnace.

Good morning Hell-A
In the land of the lotus eaters, time plays tricks on you.
One day you're dreaming, the next your dream has become your reality.
It was the best of times, if only someone had told me.
Mistakes were made, hearts were broken, harsh lessons learned
My family goes on without me - while I drown in a sea of pointless pussy
I don't know how I got here, but here I am -
Rotting away in the warm California sun.
There are things I need to figure out - for her sake at least.
The clock is ticking - the gap is widening -
She wont always love me - no matter what.

Doesn't sound like anyone needs saving here - right?

All-encompassing

This wouldn't fly today -
Not exactly a boy band. Facial hair everywhere - no half arsed 5 o'clock shadows.
Session muso's that can actually play instruments, and god forbid, write their own music.

Download this on iTunes or wherever - turn up the volume to 11 (it's just one louder), and dream of a time when sweaty overweight hairy men had a chance in this world - if only they could find the right gold medalion.

Gotta love those power chords :) Steve Lukather was my first guitar hero.

Temperature Check

Finding a good live version of a Stones song is hard.
I'm not an Elvis fan, I'm a Beatles fan - so my dalliance with the Stones is tenuous at best.
Never one to sing "Sympathy with the Devil", I prefer Tori Amos's version of Angie. Am I speaking loud enough ?

The original was great - the added choir, overproduced rubbish IMHO.
But today this is a good temperature check of where I am.
And with any luck - still waiting for what I need.

Sorry about the vid, I wanted a nice version - but like the man said - You cant always get what you want....

Fuck Fuckity Fuck Fuck

What if life was like a skydive gone wrong - how would we react to the moment?
Hurtling through life, aware of an all too certain outcome, would we live each moment as it comes, consoling ourself with a"So far - so good" attitude to our altitude?
Should we perhaps plan to enjoy each moment of the fall - feeling the wind rushing past our ears - planning a swoop or turn in mid-air just for the thrill, making more of the experience?
I suspect a significant number of us would simply be paralyzed with fear, hoping that by doing nothing, it would be out of our hands - perhaps even praying that the fall would last forever.

I'd like to plan a little. I guess I'm driven that way, but by what - I cannot (or will not) say.

NFG mentioned on Wednesday that perhaps I plan too much, that I should live more in the now - I'm paraphrasing her parachuting; she was way, way more eloquent. And uncomfortably close to making a decent point I hasten to add.
I have absolutely no idea about so many things. I am however a highly functioning idiot - not quite a savant unfortunately. If you knew me, you would perhaps make the mistake of thinking I was normal - here you get the crazy thoughts that plague me before I drift off to sleep - the idioting musings that promote giggles when in like minded company. It may seem at times that I am anything but balanced, BUT dammit I know I'm not alone in this state of being!
Just the other day, on a flight back from Christchurch, I overheard a guy in his mid forties talking to his mate in the seat next to him.
"You know I think my life stopped at 26 - no matter how the years have past; I never felt any older or wiser."
His mate nodded in agreement - sullenly reaching for his bag in the overhead locker, as he suddenly realised he too was stuck, waiting to evolve....
Quote from here:

We're the middle children of history, man.
No purpose or place.
We have no Great War. No Great Depression.
Our Great War's a spiritual war... Our Great Depression is our lives.
We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires,
movie gods, and rock stars.
But we won't.
And we're slowly learning that fact.
And we're very, very pissed off.

I sometimes wish I could be someone different; an indifferent skydiver, who would have planned, and placed a huge mass of down pillows to cushion the fall before he hopped on the plane - not to stop the inevitable; just to make the ending worth waiting for.

There i go planning again - damn - I hate it when she's right :)

Mentoring Me

Never apologise - it's a sign of weakness, says Gibbs.
Later, much later, we learn this is not necessarily a golden rule, and that friends are afforded an exception of sorts; but generally, the rule still stands.
I was brought up by a generation who taught children were to be seen and not heard, so what do I really know? The rules these days are written in quicksand, changing with the tide of whimsy. After hearing these pearls of wisdom from a TV character who is a mentor to many, I sometimes wonder; do we loose more than we gain when we say sorry?
Where people appreciate honesty over accuracy the answer is easy, but when the world has evolved/devolved - the question remains the same - but has the answer changed?

I may not know, but I WANT to know.

I guess that every now and again, when curly questions raise their ugly little heads, it would be nice to have someone you respect, listen to your concerns and discuss the finer points of corporate ethics. But perhaps in the interim I'll stick to what I know.

While on the topic of mentors - I'd like to learn how to write; really write. I wonder if it is a skill that we are born with, or perhaps something that could be nurtured from a blank slate? Some would surely profess, I write therefore I am a writer; but I change the oil in my car - and that doesn't make me a mechanic.
When I look here, and I'm constantly amazed - I wonder if someone out there can make lemonade out of my lemons. If writing (well) is a gift, a talent you are born to, perhaps those who prefer to apologise need not apply to mentor this mess :)

A brutal answer will suffice, albeit with little ice cream on top please.

Emails

Today I got a lovely email from NFG.

The email was one of those "send them on" types - but I have to admit, I never do.
A couple of years back however, I decided that I was going to tell the few people capable of hearing the words, exactly what they meant to me. It was important to me, but at the same time, once said, I really didn't feel the need to repeat it again - well, maybe not in so many words.
Perhaps it's my Aries nature, but for better or worse I always say what I feel, usually when I'm feeling it. For the rest of my time on the planet I'm more likely to give you shit, or take the piss - perhaps pausing to be ever so slightly more honest after a bottle of wine; increasing more so after two.

So the lesson here, is not to get me drunk unless you want the truth -

You want the truth? You cant handle the truth!

And NFG? Simply said girl, I love you to bits.
And for that, a single drink - I don't need.