Monday, September 29, 2008

Chanelling Keith

It was rumored back in the day, Keith Richards awoke from a dream, jotted down a few progressions, then drifted back into an alcohol fueled slumber. In the cold light of day that collection of jotted notes came to be "Satisfaction" - or so the story goes.

Last night a similar thing happened to me. From a restless sleep I reached over, pulled my Sudoku puzzle book off the bedside cabinet and scrawled in barely intelligent script "Seeing change as a fad".

This morning the words struggled to make themselves heard; it was only after my "cop out" music post I remembered there was something I wanted to write about. I went down to my room, opened my book an stared at the words, daring them to make sense.

I think, truth be told, i was looking for something a little more prosaic, or creative. We all play the cards we're dealt I'm guessing. :)

I hear and see all the news; people changing for the better. Losing weight - gaining faith. Building houses for those in need - Driver, move that bus. It's all a crock of shit really. Chuck Palahniuk said it best when he wrote "self improvement was masturbation"

In my dream I was talking to a Christian workmate.
I asked him why he worked with prisoners in rehab (true story) and why he went into prison to try and change peoples lives.
He responded "My faith in God". [1]
I asked him, if he didn't have faith in his God, then would he do this work.
He responded "No", incredulously.[1]
I asked him if a man worthy of God's love wouldn't be compelled to help others without his faith. That simply put, the things we do to make each others lives more bearable, should come from ourselves - not our faith.

At the time I thought I was making a good point, but with the benefit of hindsight I could probably just do with a little more sleep. That and less cheese.

[1] This was a dream - he never actually said this....

Sap Alert... must be about 3

I love this song - but all the videos for the song on YouTube were horrid sappy mess.

This is the least horrid - but still, not by much. Eli Stone is an interesting watch, if you're so inclined.

A year ago I swear this might have actually meant something; but now, not so much.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

False Advertising

I hate subversion.

Today I bit into a sausage roll. I expected meat and pastry.
What I got was something else entirely.
Amongst the meaty goodness lay hidden peas and carrots.

I suspect there are evil forces at work here. Vegetarian terrorists, placing broccoli bombs. I lose my faith in pastry chefs.

I don't mind vegetarians - you know where you stand with them. You understand their motivations, their way of life; you enter into their sphere of influence embracing their culture like a good Christian.

But not within the scope of the sausage roll. It smacks of cheapness, of subterfuge. At least in the case of vegetable infected luncheon sausage (or Belgian/Baloney as it is known elsewhere) there is no choice but to see it's true colours: the bastardised version bleeds carrots and peas for all and sundry.

I dread buying store-brought bacon and egg pie; you want to trust, but the edges only tell part of the story. It's only when you take the first bit - delve into the relationship, you discover the truth. I tell you - it's not pretty, and ultimately soul destroying.

Take my luncheon, pies, and sausage rolls.
I want to believe; I want to believe so much.
The problem is, like life, you don't really know what you're getting into, until you take a big bite of it. I've been let down too many times, I'm lacking in faith I guess. It would be nice to be wrong: I live for it actually.

I'm up for the next bite being a pleasant one - who's with me on that?

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Just what I needed to see on a Wednesday

I'm still hoping that the Large Hadron Collider will provide a more expedient end.

But you know how science can let you down...

Sunday, September 21, 2008

One sentence

I've been hanging out at One Sentence lately.
I've even been tempted to grade others entries for possible inclusion.
When I saw the following entry I copied it - lest it didn't make the final cut, and was forever lost.

Simply Sarah

I've hidden from my pen for 3 years now, always staring at the blank pages of my book, or of my heart, wondering how can I bring myself to scratch the surface of something I don't even understand.

Stirring stuff indeed.

Saturday, September 20, 2008


Being ill affords one an interesting perspective.
Upon the restless lounge couch, the dreamer's dreams are a potential minefield of lost clues; clues that could point to the root cause of the malaise in a roundabout way.
Well maybe not, but still, an interesting prospect in the making.

Early in the evening, reflecting with a cup of strong tea, sweetened with one teaspoon too much sugar, the world seems much warmer and inviting, especially when one has seen too much of bed lately.

I sat in the sun this afternoon; spring is most certainly on the way here. So to is the promise of life; rebirth and recreation of things that lie dormant too long over the winter.

There is little time to be ill when such wonders are taking place - one hopes tomorrow will be a day that can be enjoyed more in harmony, than in discord.

[This post was written with the sountrack to Atonement playing in the background - which could account for much of the style of this entry - but not necessarily all]

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Left field

And I am nothing of a builder
But here I dreamt I was an architect
And A built this balusstrade
To keep you home, to keep you safe
From the outside world

Monday, September 15, 2008

Lyrics will not offend

Some days I don't want to hear voices.
I don't want words getting in the way.
I just want to sit on my couch, close my eyes, and just listen: my interpretation, my emotion.
Some days, I wish the music would never finish.
But of course, it always does. :)

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Musical Cheers

I was six years old last Wednesday.
Six years, when I'd planned to be away from Dunedin for two (maybe three) at the most.
It's funny how and when that fact can hit you. I noticed just the other day that I no longer carry a map book in my car. I don't feel the same chest tightness in traffic, no longer panicking over which street to turn right at next: I just get where I'm going on autopilot these days. Auckland doesn't even smell different any more. I must have changed somehow, my olfactory now totally out of whack.

I lock my car at the petrol station when I go in to pay, no longer thinking how weird that is; especially when you consider at home in Dunedin some people still leave their keys in the ignition.

But all these things aside, I think the scariest thing is that I no longer notice the differences between my two lives. I shuffle between the them like a social chameleon, perhaps no longer belonging fully in either world.

Under the 'guise of my Auckland life, I visited Scrabble Queen and Tumor Boy tonight. We no longer play scrabble during my visits: three children under five have put an end to that.
Visits to these good friends now consist of a mad cacophony of childrens voices; a rabid mixture of joy, anguish, anger, pain, and frustration. Take your pick; the tune changes tempo on some strung out conductors mystical whim.
I did however find a moment of earth shattering peace holding 5 month old Dario while his Mum ran his bath; but even with those moments of calm, I don't know how his parents both do it 24/7. Anyone who survives this "child rearing" thing with all their faculties intact has my sincere admiration. How do you guys do it?

When I look at my life I see an easier option taken, but not necessarily through choice I hasten to add. Being single seems to give one time to appreciate different things. It gives you time to breathe; and when opportunities come knocking, there's nothing to tie you down or hold you back. I tell you - It's a bitch :)

Given the decisions to make again, I'm not too sure I'd be happy to settle for all this freedom of choice. Then again, so little about our destinations are predetermined. So many endings made as much from action as inaction. The music starts; perhaps grabbing a partner (not quite knowing where this merry little dance may lead), you dance on regardless. Loving the tune is what it's all about I guess.

That, and noticing if it changes.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Shut up and Sing

Again with the fucking passion. I hate that about myself.
After a meeting today I beat myself up on the way back to my car.
Why do I care so much?
Do I have a life?

In the HBO miniseries "From the Earth to the Moon", there was a scene that took place over a whole day. In the scene scientists and engineers argue vehemently over a planned landing site for Apollo 15.
At the end of a long day the group are no closer to a decision. When the chairman realizes the only astronaut present hasn't spoken all day, he asks for his opinion.

"So what's it going to be Dave; Marius Hills or Hadley Rille"?

[In the scene, astronaut Dave Scott chose the Hadley Rille site at the foot of the Apennine mountains.]

Among the technical benefits he stated...

"The Apinines have something else: Grandeur. And I believe there's something to be said for exploring beautiful places; it's good for the spirit.

I just wish I could contain my passion; say less ,and yet still get my points across. I struggle with the time I have left to make a difference - as if it's running out somehow.

Which of course it is - obviously.

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Thanks for all the Fish

Nice knowing you guys.
Scientists below Geneva, are about to recreate the Big Bang, and you just never know....
There's some comfort in knowing we might all go down together.
For some strange reason that makes its totally OK with me.
We were joking about this the other day. Imagine if this experiment was actually a defining moment in our technological evolution - an experiment that smarter civilisations elsewhere in the universe correctly ignored as folly.
But like I said - "Better to go out with a bang - eh" :)

Shame about missing the end of Season 4 BSG tho....

Sunday, September 07, 2008

Time to forget

Don't play if you want something quiet at the end of your weekend.
It's a lovely sounding song - even if lyrically it isn't exactly kosher.

I know I've been mistaken
But just give me a break and see the changes that I've made
I've got some imperfections
But how can you collect them all and throw them in my face

Saturday, September 06, 2008


I've been thinking about Elliot recently
Or perhaps, more correctly, about the events surrounding that time.
Elliot stuck his head into a gas oven when he was twenty, or maybe twenty-one.
Of course it was all over a girl; a girl who dropped him.
All because he was never enough; or so he thought.

I went to his funeral; we all did.
Tags, Tim, and many of those who worked with him at the ODT.
They played Genesis; I still cant listen to "In it too Deep", or "Throwing it all away" without being teleported back to that time and space.
There was an open casket; baptism by fire, my first funeral without family. People touched him; said "Goodbye Mate"; stuff like that. I didn't know what to say really; mumbled goodbye. Wasn't sure what to feel.

Thinking about it now I realize what an arsehole he was.
I wonder, what possessed me back then to think that giving it all away over a girl was romantic in some way?
I now put those feelings down to being twenty; being twenty lasted a while with me. Truth is, part of me will always be twenty.

Debbie was there too; outside the funeral home. I went to school with her; she was one of the cool kids: we never really talked.
I was looking at my feet; we all were - this was all our first funeral - we didn't know what to say.
I looked up at Debbie - she was a mess. Two friends were holding her up.
Our eyes met and locked. She was 8 meters away, but it might as well have been 8 miles. I didn't know what to say.
She howled, as if I had accused her of all this. She turned from me, sagged on her friends shoulders as they led her away. I always feel I let her down; she was left to pick up the pieces, while I just went back to work.

If I wasn't twenty I would have done something. I would have walked up to her; bridged the chasm of cliques, and hugged her, told here it wasn't her fault: if I wasn't twenty.

Elliot may have taken his life; but he had no right to take hers as well.
But like I said - he was an arsehole. You have to think of the consequences.

I have; ever since.

Friday, September 05, 2008

5 Star Haiku

Ramsay stunned slience
Top Chef, Rachel Ray routed
Shaw cooks up a Storm

Thursday, September 04, 2008

One sentence

I've just added a link to a site called "One Sentence".

God - I'm so in love with the idea of all the possible combinations and permutations of words making just one sentence...

like ;

My boyfriend thinks it's cool that I check women out with him, but what he doesn't know is that I am more gay than he can imagine.


My childhood and my dog share a grave in my backyard.


Wednesday, September 03, 2008

Damien Rice - Cannonball

The new office makes my eyes dry. The air conditioner rumbles somewhere in the background, but when I put on my noise canceling headphones, there's a deafening silence. It's almost a sin to press play on my iPod....

Speaking of music, lately I've been loving Damien Rice's "O" album - it's like it's mixed for headphones; it's the most unnerving experience having someone in your head like that, but ultimately rewarding at the same time.

Tuesday, September 02, 2008



And that's all I'm going to say about that.

Monday, September 01, 2008

The Ted'ness of it all

There's a newness in the air.
Newness; is there such a word?
New manager.
New office, new job, new title.
New desk repels the ever potential terrorist threat with its strategic placement.
(the others simply wont know what hit them).
New locker - Number 1; suspiciously expectant of them - i giggle a little when no one listens.
New team, new workmates.
New walk to work; I leave the car and walk the last 15.
Minutes not miles - silly.
All this newness, yet still the same old me.
I hope they win.
I feel like losing this battle, maybe even the war.
Guerrilla in their midst.