It's like every post here was leading to this point. And the point has come and gone - and I'm stuck in some kind of posting doldrums. Stuck in my posting boat, waiting for a new fish to bite. Hopefully dragging me off in some new direction. Kicking and screaming without a doubt. 'tis in my nature you see.
I always loved this song - I posted it to Youtube a year or so ago, but they deleted it after one day. Goes to show - there's no accounting for taste :)
Sometimes I'm afraid when you go Sometimes I'm afraid when you come home Underneath it all ... I think I'm afraid when there's nothing wrong. But if I was fearless ... Could I be your reckless friend And if I was helpless ... Could you be the one comes rushing in. There's something that I never told When I find myself slipping off of my pedestal I'm a fierce believer afraid to fall. But if I was fearless ... Could I be your reckless friend And if I was helpless ... Could you be the one comes rushing in. Sometimes I'm afraid of the dark I can't find the light in my heart I can see my hand pushing away Hard as I can But if I was fearless ... Could I be your wreckless friend And if I was helpless ... Could be the one comes rushing in. Sometimes I'm afraid when you go ...
So.... the most talented Beatle was John, then George, then Paul. Or - if you're a rebel maybe George would be first.
I never understood the logic. Paul was, and still is a brilliant songwriter. His critical failure has been both his longevity, and his ongoing success; well in the musical field at least.
Every time I hear Neil Finn, I can't help but think he will be tarred with the same brush.
Still so young to travel so far Old enough to know who you are Wise enough to carry the scars Without any blame, theres no one to blame Easy to forget what you learn Waiting for the thrill to return Feeling your desire burn As you're drawn to the flame
I just found out a family friend in Dunedin had recently split up with her boyfriend. They were living together for a couple of years; owned a house and dog together, but one day the girl just decided she didn't love her partner anymore and moved out.
God - this must be pretty common, but I couldn't help but feel for the guy who obviously still had strong feelings for his partner. I'm happy for her tho - the relationship wasn't giving her what she wanted, so making a clean break was the smart move. Guys need absolutes ladies; giving us ambiguity around relationship issues almost invariably fosters false hope.
At the end of the day, I just hope both of them are happier in the long run.
We are complex creatures - I guess we can only hope to change together over time in order to keep the spark of love alive. It must be an amazing balancing act - I'm in awe of anyone who manages keep their relationships solid. It's not something I've ever managed to do. Staying free of serious relationships is a poor compromise, but it seems to work for me :)
To love and be loved - sounds too good to be true? Perhaps it is, but I still want it that way.
Gone are the days of hairy chests, gold medallions and belly fat. Men these days seem to be on the fast track to agonising over their facial clensing products, abdominal muscles, and body mass index. When Matthew Fox says he's "worth it" I wonder if it's just me that's reaching for an airsickness bag - I hope not.
I assure you; the less metrosexual of us live in fear of the day we all must stand in line for the back, sack, and crack wax; lest we fail in attacting the fairer sex. It seems obvious we havent learnt anything from our bra burning, armpit haired sisters. Men, through their complacency, have created a society where absolute beauty rules - for either sex.
Its getting worse though; emails by the hundreds in my mailbox. Selling little blue pills and enlarger pumps to ensure you can succeed where you would otherwise surely fail to impress. In a twisted turn of fate, it is now men who get assaulted by billboards "in plain sight" saying they can improve your sexual performance with a nasal delivery system - the mind boggles.
Sorry about the crap posts of late - I know I keep promising normal posts will resume - but sometimes I'm not sure what normal is anymore :) Like most things that throw a spanner in the works of "ones" life, they are not always easily dealt with in a expedient manner. Unfortunately, these things do take time; if it didn't, it wouldn't be a fair representation of the facts at hand. It's always complicated when it matters.
But it's important to understand - I may never get over Mucho Grande!
We all have them, some less obvious than others. I think the less visible ones are the ones that own us; push us to or from despair. May yours give you strength.
And doesn't that sound familiar? Doesn't that hit too close to home? Doesn't that make you shiver; the way things could've gone? And doesn't it feel peculiar when everyone wants a little more? And so that I do remember to never go that far, Could you leave me with a scar?
In 1979 my thoughts of music turned from the Beach Boys and Beatles toward a less savory genre of rock'n'roll. Far from the tunes on the radio, or the music I listened to on the family 3 in 1 stereo - MarkJ had truly moved to the dark side. I was knocking around with Peter Elliot at the time, and on his bedroom wall was the biggest poster I'd ever seen. Four guys dressed in armor, faces made up in makeup, a bass guitar shaped like an axe ! Who the hell were these guys? They, of course, were KISS - and yes, they sooooo ROCKED.
A few weeks later I dropped around to Peter's place and the poster was gone - I was mortified when he told me he destroyed it - turns out KISS were a bunch of devil worshipers and so he destroyed all their music as well! I didn't have any albums or tapes myself, but I figured if Mum and Dad didn't know KISS were after my virgin soul they wouldn't mind if I brought an album or two with my pocket money. :)
Around this time are much more mature (read: older) Green Street Girl had also discovered the evils of KISS, but had only thrown here tapes in her rubbish bin. Her younger brother Kim kindly sold them to me for a tidy profit. Thanks Di - oh and Mosgiel Presbyterian Church too!
I'm only saying all this because last Sunday, after the Aussie F1 GP, KISS performed for the crowd. It was (excuse my French) fucking amazing. Song after song, memory after memory, 70's until today. All the lyrics stored away on dusty shelves in my mind came out to play once more, and I have a smile that still wont quit days later. I still love those guys. It's not just me either; Eddie Vedder was a member of the KISS Army - Dimebag Darrell was even buried in a KISS casket. It may not be cool to still dig KISS - but I just don't care!
Paul Stanley hit the nail on the head when he spoke to the audience;
This is what Rock 'n' Roll is all about guys If you want bad news; read a newspaper, or watch the TV If you want to be be preached to, then you're listening to the wrong fucking band. We're here to have some fun. So C'mon people - lets Rock 'n' Roll.
Here I sit - work computer in front of me, and it's insulting me with its Pre SP2 XP-ness. I am in the computing Mesozoic and I miss my iMac. I endure the grating chime on startup, and the sound of a steam roller on gravel as the hard disk churns just for me. I feel a pang of sorrow for the little green led that blinks in tune with the hard drive din - it must be so tired - it never stops.
How much RAM do you need god dammit? Always more, Solutions Support tell me; Zombies in disguise - I can hear it in their voices.
The hourglass turns, promising progress, but at what price? My sanity? Success! No blue screen of death today thank you.
All this effort to log on and say I'm off to Melbourne for a long weekend - and will miss you all.
I'm on personal excellence training today and tomorrow. This is the view outside the classroom window. Did I mention the classroom is a floating two story pontoon on Auckland's Viaduct harbour?
I arrived early and sat on the edge of the pavilion. With my cup of English Breakfast tea for company I felt the deck rise and fall gently beneath my feet. The sun warmed my face as the salt air lightly brushed past my nose on it's meander to the city; perhaps for a quick one shot trim chai latte. It's all the rage this year.
The first time in a long time I felt rich - and it didn't have anything to do with money.
Because I'm censoring my posts at the moment, I'm not saying what I should. Years from now this wont matter - my current anger, sadness or frustration - meaningless after its best buy date.
So - I have this idea - a blog site you can send posts to, but only to display them 20 years later. You've heard of RAM - or read only memory, right? This would be write only memory :)
I think it would make me feel better - knowing I got it out of my system, and that one day someone might sign on for the inane ramblings of a Kiwi male, albeit 20 years after iPodtouch's and 50inch wide screenTV's were deemed cool.
This, on the other hand, made me feel better right now.
You're getting sadder, getting sadder, getting sadder, getting sadder And I don't understand, and I don't understand But if I kiss you where it's sore If I kiss you where it's sore Will you feel better, better, better Will you feel anything at all
And because it would be fun to live in a world where Mena Suvari would actually go out with Jason Biggs. For 3 minutes and 58 seconds, why not join me?
I went into the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
- Henry David Thoreau.
Gotta love that marrow!
In truth however, of late, I feel more like someone has been secretly sucking marrow out of me. I'm certain it will pass, but it's almost like life has turned down the "colour knob" just a tad. I've definitely noticed the shift in hue, and I'm actively looking to be happier, but something is missing still.
And to the God of Consumerism - I have sinned: It has been two weeks since my last purchase. Here I am, hoping it's not that superficial a malaise :)
Borrowing, with permission from bookbabie, the following fabulous idea: What would you say if you had to summarize your life in only six words? Bookbabie got the idea from a book written by Larry Smith and Rachel Fershleiser, Not Quite What I was Expecting: Six Word Memoirs by Famous and Obscure. It is a compilation based on the story that Hemingway once bet ten dollars that he could sum up his life in six words. His words were- For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.
Here are the rules:
1. Write your own six word memoir 2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like 3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere 4. Tag five more blogs with links 5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!
