Aches

Sorry about the lack of posts this week. I've been working nights which pretty much means that during the day I'm just too damn tired to feel creative. And if I'm not creative - I'm just not anything - If you understand where I'm coming from.

I did, however, contemplate writing about my loathing of all knives and forks, plastic - especially in the context of the mall food court, which is possibly just the modern mans food trough; but ya know - nope.

Part of the problem is I'm in pain. Not the "I'm leaving you" variety - or even the "Did I poke you in the eye with my plastic fork" type pain either. The pain I'm currently experiencing is the grinding metal on metal ache that wont stop; even with expensive over the counter drugs.

You see - years ago I used to worry about things, and all was good with the world - well apart from the excessive worrying i guess.

Then one day I concluded that worrying was a stupid thing and decided to stop. I say stupidly because my body apparently has different ideas on what is best for me. It appears that subconsciously, my body has taken over, and must worry for me. All this without my consent I hasten to add.

The other morning, after a particular nasty, stressful night at work I awoke to find my jaw had decided to clamp itself shut during my sleeping hours: sometimes I think it would be just easier to worry again.

So - for the last two days the right side of my face has ached incessantly, and all this coupled with broken sleep and high temperature/humidity - makes for a Mark with a very short fuse.

I know that everything should be good in around three days, but until then I'm tired, cranky and not myself at all.

Catch you on the flip side.

Deep Deep Undercover

Today i had to do something incredibly uncomfortable. Stripped of my work ID, I ventured into "enemy" territory to trade up some 025 telecom mobiles.

We use these mobiles when we are working in areas with no Vodafone coverage, and because telecom are turning off their 025 network, and are migrating all their 025 customers to their newer 027 network, we too must upgrade.

I tell you; I felt like a traitor, a spy if you will. In amongst the other members of the public I had to endure countless questions spouting around me like "Is your network better than Vodafone", and alike.... it was hideous!

The worst part of the exercise was paying with my Vodafone credit card - something the sales guy didn't even notice. I walked out of the telecom shop with my large telecom bag - and I couldn't help but feel I needed a nice hot bath to get clean again.

I really, really have to let this go sometime soon!

Zen and the Art of Painting

I've been starting work earlier these days; the trip to the office at 7:30 am is a bitch so I've been getting up at 6am so I can start at 7. The upside of all this, is that i can be home before 5pm, and therefore have more time to myself in the afternoons. The downside is that by the weekends I'm usually tired as hell.

On Saturday morning I slept in, which was a pain, because I had arranged to catch up with "Fireman Sam" to take some photos of her while she was working.

I really enjoy spending time with "Sam", mainly because I actually relax when I'm with her. She has a great depth of character, which makes taking a good photo all that more of a challenge: a challenge I'll admit I'm not up to right now.
Sam is a hell of a lot of fun, and has that neat trick of still being a kid at heart, but having that old soul wisdom to back it all up.
It's been a blessing to have someone like that in my life - the constant threats of a good "slapping" aside, Sam manages to put me in a state of mind to smell the roses every now and again. Her friendship reminds me that one doesn't have to be rich to be wealthy.

Needless to say the photo shoot went out the window as we chatted about life in general, but I managed one half decent shot before we headed out to Frolic for lunch. An excellent way to spend a Saturday morning I think.

Thanks luv :)

Nothing borrowed or blue

For Di :)


Something Old



Something New

Brooke Fraser

I saw Brooke Fraser, when she debuted for John Mayer a few years ago.

She was amazing live - her band was super tight. I brought her album and loved her songs - but when I later found out she was a Christian, her music just seemed to die for me.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not against Christians at all - her music just turned out to be something I couldn't relate to. When I thought she was singing about her love for someone else; I identified. Her love for her God was just a bigger ask for me.

She's still an amazing artist tho - play the video. Hopefully you can get past the whole God thing.

The fine art of saying nothing

I was thinking about an old quote the other day. Better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and prove it.
There are a lot of reasons to shut up: least of all to listen.

I also remember someone saying their are two types of people; those who listen, and those who wait for their turn to speak. It's easier to wait to speak I guess - but of late I've been making an effort to listen.

Last year a close friend was trying to tell me something, and following the rules above I was trying to listen, but at the same time another factor was playing out. This friend of mine is not one to talk about these things - and I know that. When the conversation started, I became acutely aware of the speakers discomfort, and at that moment I just wanted it to stop. I wanted the whole moment to disappear and for the earth to swallow me whole. So as the listener, I interrupted and allowed the conversation to end in a tidy manner.
I was relieved, and the situation quickly passed into memory.
The problem is - I couldn't let it go - the memory of that moment still haunts me; and now I know why. I didn't end the conversation just for my friend - I ended it for myself as well.

If I could go back - I'd just shut up and say nothing. Regardless of my own discomfort, these words, once spoken, could not be unsaid.
Now I'll always wonder what I missed out on hearing.

I think it may have been important.

Feb 14 2007

Is it weird that I still have the card that came to my work with those flowers, years ago?
Is it strange the recollection of many different romantic moments are so strong, that the memories themselves are as vivid as the day they were born?
Should I have said yes to moving forward, instead of being comfortable in a moment?
So many paths to take, so many decisions, all leading to this moment in time. Buggery Bollocks!

Anyway, I heard somewhere the only second chance we get is to make the same mistake twice. The film State and Main, if memory serves...

Fonmeister put down her latte, and leaned toward me, as if to impart some important piece of knowledge. "Mark", she said, "If you're gonna go swimming - you're gonna have to get wet". I immediately grabbed a "placid face" from my expression storage area, while thinking of a witty reply - it never came. [Note to self : This one's a smart one. Beware!]
Later that morning, while shopping for DVD's, she recommended Proof to me. On the blurb was the quote "The biggest risk in life is not taking one".
Even DVD's are fucking with me now. :)

Anyhow - I remembered this clip, and I'm beginning to think that Overkill could be my song. Well at least to this point in my life.
Perhaps 14 Feb 2008 will find me in a different space - I look forward to finding out.

Movies and me

This is not me

I've just watched "Stranger than Fiction".

Emma Thompson was amazing as always, and although it got a lot of favourable reviews, I was a bit upset with the ending.
Like The Devils Advocate - I cant help but wonder if cutting the last 2 minutes wouldn't have made a much more satisfying movie, albeit a lot less Hollywood.
Fonmeister would say that it appealed to my sense of melancholy - and to that I would have to fix her with my best wry smile, and dismiss it out of hand.

More about Fonmeister when I'm feeling a little more creative - right now I don't think I could do her justice. :)

And that would not be fair - oh no it wouldn't....

So how smart are you?

Just follow the instructions - there are no trick questions.

Just because you have to try many many times to complete this simple puzzle does not mean you are thick. Honest!!!!

Click here.

For Di

Will try and knock a more recent photo out by next Friday. Until then here's a not so old one.

Evana with her "cud cud"

Why Me?

While waiting in line at the express checkout at Foodtown.

Saw: Lady with Greenpeace T-Shirt, wearing pedal-pushers.
Said lady walks up to the counter with recyclable shopping bag, reaches in and brings out organic vegetables and organic milk. Pays with cash.

So wanted to : Throw a whale at her.

My Recipe Wednesday

Last Saturday I got invited to a pot luck dinner. Because I was a boy, and bound to fuck up, I was given a desert to bring.
I do make a crazy delicious mars bar cheesecake, but of late I've wanted to be known for more than my cheesecake, so I decided to take something a bit different. This steamed pudding went down a treat.

Mum used to make this steam pudding before the advent of the microwave. Back then the dough was placed in a aluminium bowl with a baking paper top held on with string, itself sitting in a simmering pot of water. This recipe got lost for years - but fell out of my Edmonds cook book the other day.

These days it takes 4 minutes in a Microwave. Progress that can finally be measured!

Ingredients:

1 Cup Flour
125 grams Sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
50 grams of Butter
Sultanas
1 Egg
1/2 cup of milk


Method:

Cream butter and sugar, add egg and beat well.
Add sifted flour and baking powder alternatively with milk.
Mix in sultanas (you choose how many - within reason)

Pour batter into a moderate sized "stick resistant" microwave proof bowl.

Cook on Max power for 4 minutes . Turn out onto a plate while warm.

Oh - you can add a little vanilla essence earlier on in the process, if you're feeling brave.

Excited - moi?

When was the last time you really got excited about something?
I mean really really excited.
When I was eight years old I got very excited about a Raleigh Chopper, but these days, like a drug addict looking for a better fix, its fair to say a a Chopper simply doesn't cut the mustard.

Flat screen ? Nah
New car ? Nah
Games Console, Travel ? Give me a break! It's just not happening.

OK - Maybe if I had a few million in the bank? But ever since that damn gypsy grabbed me in Kings Cross in the 80's.. I know that's not going to happen any time soon. Trust me, regarding money; I'm certain I have a major life lesson to learn before I come into anything significantly financial in nature. Until then I'm happy with what I've got.

If the measure of success in life was excitement I'm not sure I'm making any headway. In fact - I might be going backward.
How to get excited - it cant be that hard a question to answer.

My Time Out

Yes: I know, Exile in Guyville was awesome.
Yes: I know that a lot of people think she's sold out recently. (not me)

But: There's something about girls and power chords, and a songs with a nice hooks.
Plus regarding my last post I have to practice what I preach!

And: I like this song - for all the above reasons (plus it's got swear words, and innuendo).
Liz is still Liz after all.

Liz Phair - Extraordinary (indeed)

My Conformity

And the musical theme flows on.....

For some reason I've been listening to a lot of music lately. My CD collection has well and truely been dusted off. Once again the sounds of 80's music assaults my neighbourhood on a daily basis. I may be dead by the time you read this post.

Oh well.....with that in mind...

I'm pretty sure one of the the best things we can learn from or younger years is the damage conformity can bring.
I remember High School; we all listened to the same music, drank the same beer, and wore the same clothes.
Everyone was looking for the new fashion to follow - living in mortal fear they would come to school worshiping some fad that died the day before.
I cant remember any souls that braved an alternative lifestyle at that early age; I suspect that conformity may have killed them all.

More recently I remember watching Bowling for Columbine, and listening to Matt Stone's comments on High School;

"They (the teachers) scare you into conforming in school by saying - if you're a loser now, you're gonna be a loser forever . So..... Eric and Dylan ( the killers) .... They called them fags - so you know if I'm a fag now I'm a fag forever . And you wish someone could have grabbed them and gone "Dude - High School's not the end ...it's amazing how fast you lose touch with all those people" ... (but) they just beat it into your head, as early as sixth grade... don't fuck up , because if you do, you're gonna die poor and lonely - and you don't wanna do that........and of course it's completely opposite.. all the dorks at High School go on to do great things and all the really cool guys are, like, living back at home in Littleton as insurance agents ....

Maybe we should embrace everything that makes us unique from each other; temper conformity with an eclectic taste in music, the arts, or whatever is around at the time. It's all about balance i guess.

So - embrace your love of Country music and Speed Metal equally, and perhaps more importantly, everything in between; because punk, goth or any other sub culture is just a another type of conformity as well.

Celebrate your inner dork, so next time you're singing a Back Street Boy's song in the shower - recognise it for what it is, a song you love, and enjoy the moment - instead of dying of shame - wondering if anyone has heard you.

With that in mind - here's a clip of the rock band Live with Country music star Shelby Lynne. A brilliant song, and a good mix of talents. They were probably all geeks in High School!

My Elton Tribute

There's something to be said about regrets.
Looking back over your life, and not liking what you see can be a great motivation for making some changes.
What changes one should make however, aren't always so obvious.
I also wonder if the choices some people make to achieve their goals, are worth it in the long run.
The famous, the A type achievers - I wonder if at the end their regrets aren't larger, simply because their lives are so restricted, and their options limited.
I mean - How "normal" can you be if you're Justin Timberlake or Paris Hilton?
Don't you find it odd that millions "worship" these people when today's Jason Timberlake will possibly be tomorrow's Michael Jackson?
Am I the only one that thinks this a little sick?

Elton John released a video a few years back - that seems to point out some of the concerns mentioned above. It's ironic that Justin Timberlake plays the younger incarnation of Elton. Life imitating Art I guess.

My Emo.

For IG -

Who, while searching for new music to listen to, came across the music of a younger generation, and succumbed to Emo.

We will miss him.

My Dear.

I will have you know;

I am ruthless
Totally untrustworthy
I will leave the oven on
And forget to lock the front door
I will forget our anniversary
I will stay out with the guys
I will make you house smell like "boy's"

Just so you know...

When ladies call me "Dear" - they are not psychic
They are sorely mistaken Goddammit!!!

Bad Habits

I've noticed recently my complete intolerance of certain things. It's not like I do anything in retaliation for these unforeseen affronts to my sensibilities: I just file them against the offender, and all that's left is a slight irritation the next time I see that person.
It may seem weird, but every time the offender "re offends" the irritation gets slightly worse, perhaps like a insect bite that needs a little vinegar to stop the sting: just without the vinegar i guess.

The things that set me off are strange. This isn't a trait entirely my own. My grandmother used to get profoundly irritated when her toast was not buttered to the corners. Another of her dislikes was people who ate toast without cutting it in half: she explained it to me as "bad breeding".
The toast thing aside my Grandmother was not stark raving mad - nor am I.

Today one of my co-workers filled up his coffee cup with the spoon in it. That is just simply wrong. the fact he went on to drink the coffee with the spoon in it made it doubly wrong, but the icing on the cake of "bad manners" was I saw him do the same thing with soup the other day. WITH SOUP!!!!

I mean - really - a spoon in your cup whilst drinking?

I suppose on the scale of human achievements in bad breeding "the spoon incident" is minor, but why does it upset me so?

To be aware of other peoples dislikes is a curse - Ever since the "toast incident", I always buttered my Grandmothers toast to the corners on the odd occasions, we, the Grandchildren, made our Grandparents breakfast in bed. We never cut the toast on any angle other than 90 degrees lest we offended them.

It's funny now, years after they have both passed on, I cut my toast on a diagonal, and when not amongst polite society: uncut.
I have no strict butter spreading rule, but I hate my toast burnt and despise the scraping of burn toast: I'd rather throw out the burnt offering and start again.

I'd like to think these indiscretions are minor in nature, and to be fair this post had a point: It's just I've forgotten it.

Joni

If you like this clip, check out the original Joni version from her album "blue" recorded in 1971.
I love the line "I wish I had a river I could skate away on - lovely.

Solving the Mystery of the dead cat

If you bring me a dead cat, all I can tell you is that it's dead - and it was a cat.
But if you hand me a dead cat, and you tell me you found it in the middle of the road - Ha!!! - What killed it?

A car?
A truck?
Heat exhaustion?

Now you're getting it -
OK.... you find the dead cat in the kitchen of your favourite restaurant....
What killed it?

The Chef?

What are we talking about here?
Context.

Context?

Context: the difference between road kill - and a meal.

Today I had the unfortunate experience on being a part of a disagreement between my firm and a member of the public. Given the facts, a course of action was undertaken without the benefit of context.
In fairness we did all we could to get the problem sorted, but now all the facts are out of the bag I'm not so sure our method was the best after all. Hindsight is 20:20
Suffice to say the two parties are working together to sort the problem, but I feel somewhat responsible - another good reason for not dealing with people, technology isn't as tricky.

Sometimes even when you get what you want - you lose.

Rationing

Dead Girl walking

On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.

My love affair with Dead Like Me continues. Like a man adrift at sea with little water I have begun to ration; periodically I feel like "drinking" the lot and facing the inevitable: a cancellation that took place over two years ago.

First Firefly, then Dead Like Me. What next? My beloved Science Fiction?

And yet the Gilmore Girls may yet make season eight! They mock my pain!

Madness I tell you - I have stared into the abyss, and seen endless scripts for reality TV and game shows, and the death of any television that makes us think. The horror......

The real McCoy - so to speak

The last post featured an image of John Cleese in a comedy skit about funny walks.
However, this is where i got my inspiration for the title to my post.



Of course this is the real "Angry from Mayfair". Kenny Everett was a comedian before his time I suspect - at least to the teenage MarkJ.

Angry of Mayfair

I've been angry this week - Really I have.
My holiday in now well and truly over and I have to face 2007.
This pisses me off because at the start of my ascent through 2007 I will have to first traverse the hazardous journey toward my birthday. My birthday "base camp" is a constant reminder of how I am frittering my life away. Frittering sums it up well, frittering is a flibberty gibberty type of word that I like to pull out of the hat every now and again, mostly when I'm in a fliberty type of mood : which is this week.

Weird thoughts assault me like South Auckland street gangs as I walk down the street. Today I got pissed off when I saw someone walking down the street "kinda funny". He was taking up the whole damn pavement in a kind of funky chicken walk ( could..I..get.. past...no...). The guy probably had a real medical condition - I'm sorry for being so insensitive, but I couldn't help but immediately think of IG and My Mate John's idea : Fix the walk - Fix the man. Basically their philosophy is that if you take the time to teach someone how to walk in a normal manner than the "rest" will fall into place - I cant help but think this is inspired in some way - but at the same time I wonder if their walk couldn't use a little work as well.

It seems that daily I have been saving someones bacon - today guys who get paid a lot more than me made a HUGE freaking mistake, which I happened to point out to them. Seriously these rocket scientists have been working on this for a month, and one word from me - and its over. So do I get any credit - ah no - they're jumping for foxholes. Little do they know the foxholes are full of very hungry Pirhana with a taste for Anus-Engineeris. Should I tell them?

Nah. They all walk kinda funny too. And I cant be fucked fixing it.

Nostalgia Corner

The Beatles - The Long and Winding Road
Original Version

From Wikipedia:

In an interview in 1994, McCartney described the lyric more obliquely: "It's rather a sad song. I like writing sad songs, it's a good bag to get into because you can actually acknowledge some deeper feelings of your own and put them in it. It's a good vehicle, it saves having to go to a psychiatrist ... It's a sad song because it's all about the unattainable; the door you never quite reach. This is the road that you never get to the end of."

In spring 1970 the other Beatles, barely speaking to one another and disgruntled with the quality of their work, effectively abandoned the Get Back project. Subsequently John Lennon and Beatles' accountant Allen Klein turned over the recordings to Phil Spector in the hope of salvaging an album, now titled Let It Be, out of the project.

Spector wrought various changes on the songs that would be included on Let It Be, but his most dramatic embellishment would occur on April 1, 1970, when he turned his attention to "The Long and Winding Road." At Abbey Road studios, he recorded the orchestral and choir accompaniment for the song. The only member of The Beatles present was Ringo Starr. Already known for his eccentric behaviour in the studio, Spector was in a particular mood that day, as balance engineer Pete Brown recalled: "He wanted tape echo on everything, he had to take a different pill every half hour and had his bodyguard with him constantly. … He was on the point of throwing a wobbly, saying 'I want to hear this, I want to hear that. I must have this, I must have that.'" Brown and the orchestra eventually became so annoyed by Spector's behaviour that the orchestra refused to play any further, and at one point, Brown left for home, forcing Spector to telephone him and persuade him into coming back, after Starr told Spector to calm down.

Finally, Spector succeeded in remixing "The Long and Winding Road," using 18 violins, four violas, four cellos, three trumpets, three trombones, two guitars, and a choir of 14 women.The orchestra was scored and conducted by Richard Hewson, who would later work with McCartney on his album, Thrillington. This lush orchestral treatment was in direct contrast to The Beatles' stated intentions for a "real" recording when they began work on Get Back.

When McCartney first heard the Spector version of the song, he was outraged. Nine days after Spector overdubbed "The Long and Winding Road", McCartney announced that The Beatles were breaking up.

Life as a PC.

Sometimes I fix PC's for friends. I just never realised the parallels between fixing a PC and fixing a life. After taking to someone the other day It dawned on me that the parallels were perhaps closer than I cared to imagine.

When you fix a software fault on a PC, you can take one of two routes.

Assuming that a piece of software on your PC is faulty or infected, you can attack the PC with various tools; such as virus scanners or spy software detection tools. All these tools are designed to find the "infections" within the buggy OS and fix it.
The trouble is, your PC will never run as well as it did on the first day you turned it on. Every application, even when removed leaves more junk on your PC slowing it down, and eventually, no matter how much you try, your PC will fail.
The parallels to life are there to be seen. We are born with (mostly) a clean slate, and since that day we accumulate knowledge, attitudes, and take on things from the environment surrounding us. Like our dear PC, no matter what life lessons we adopt and maybe drop as we go, we can never stop being a sum of all those small parts - or can we?
Are psychologists our virus and spyware equivalents? Is Prozac our great antivirus?

The second more drastic option, at least with the PC, is a complete reload. By wiping the hard disk and reinstalling a complete OS again we give our beloved PC a new chance at life - what was once old becomes new again - and all the garbage from before is gone. Our PC has a new chance with different software options. Sure - it will eventually run slower again but for today it is as good as new.

The parallel to this in human terms was explained to me as a "break". Only when deprived of most or all of the supports in your existing life, can you "break" then rebuild yourself again. Evidently this could mean that old thoughts and conceptions holding you back can be thrown away, and a new less restrictive options can be there for the taking. I wonder if the person "breaking" does this on purpose or if the result is merely the only positive outcome from an incredibly shitty situation.

I'm not sure I agreed with the person I was talking with but to those of you who may have come through this "break" process intact, I salute you, and pray you never have to endure it again.

When Poets become Musicians

Sometimes I hate being led by a song.
In an episode of, say CSI, we are led via a set of clues to a conclusion, and that's it. No thinking required - you're just along for the ride.
Those who know me, know my love of all things Tori Amos, simply because her music is almost aways set to some type of poetry. The fun is often working out what she's saying while getting lost in the beautiful music along the way.

Maybe I didn't like to hear
But I still cant believe speed racer is dead
So then I thought Id make some plans
But fire thought shed really rather be water instead

And peggy got a message for me
From Jesus
And Ive heard every word that you have said
And I know I have been driven like the snow

This is cooling
Faster than I can
This is cooling
Faster than I can

But do I hate what she is
But do I want to be her
And don't we love something fresh
Anything new, virgin

Woman you got too many brambles
Hiding under these bushes
Woman you got too many brambles
But I always liked a good storm
I'm always good for a storm

So then love walked up to like
And said I know that you don't like me much
Lets go for a ride
This ocean is wrapped around that pineapple tree

And is your place in heaven
Worth giving up these kisses
These, these kisses

And peggy got a message for me
From Jesus
And Ive heard every word that you have said
And I know I have been driven like the snow, but

This is cooling
Faster than I can
Hey yes, faster than I can
Hey, this is cooling
This is cooling

The perfect wave

Did you ever catch the perfect wave? My cuz Brad the Surfer may have well caught a few perfect waves in his day, but what I'm on about is a moment when all the cosmic tumblers seem to click into place for an instant.
I'm not talking about a drug induced wave, because that's cheating. The clarity I'm talking about must be the drug free variety, and it doesnt have to only happen once.
Perhaps when you look up from the rim of your favourite coffee mug, to see the sunrise rise from the sea over the sand dunes, and think - wow this is fucking amazing. Perhaps it's just for an instant, because all too soon the cosmic tumblers spin again leaving you, the mere mortal behind, the wave now mocking you from a distance.

For 15 seconds today, while listening to Alison Krause singing New Favourite, with my sub, just so... I could swear the walls moved forward and back with the swell as it moved on. But for a moment i was there - and it was awesome.

You know youre getting old when

You call your friends at 8:38pm and they're in bed!

Dead like me.

We all create in our heads who we are, and who we want others to be. And how we view ourselves; hero, victim, loved, unloved, changes over time. Those little neurons spark along, working overtime, creating what we believe. So, in that way the mind kinda works like magic, making what we desire happen. And in the end maybe the trick to sorting it all out is trusting your voice, and being true to yourself. Chasing your bliss, you know - all the cliches on parade crap like "Marching to the beat of your own - whatever..

I stumbled across this little gem of a show about a month back, but my Christmas holiday timetable didn't take time out for much TV, so I've been spending the last few days catching up on the show.
The story of an 18 year old who dies when a toilet seat from the disintegrating Mir Space Station, hits her square in the face, would, on the outset seem to have little to do with me - per say, but trust me, it does.
Saved from the clutches of this mortal coil, she does not move on, but instead must become a grim reaper of sorts, someone who actually doesn't get paid for this job, yet must still live in the real world: Some reapers take to stealing from the recently deceased, others have "real jobs" to get by.
Balancing the real world with her new "death job", is the source of great insight to the viewer, and as time goes on you realise, along with George, that she wasn't really living when she was alive either.

Through the episodes she starts to learn more about herself, and starts to finally start living a life , and helping her unknowing sister from making the same mistakes she did.

Being

I was watching a documentary on the making of the new Beatles album "Love" this evening.

Listening to the songs that I grew up on I'm reminded of the sublime abilities of Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starkey, pausing to wonder if a similar potential lies within all of us, if we only had the courage to believe it true.

I believe that when I was younger I was good at photography, and music - but those talents have atrophied as I became more focused on less important things. I hope it's not too late to reverse the trend, and in some way, rediscover some part of me that I've lost somewhere along the way. I've been feeling less than complete for some time, and I'm unsure why.

Quickone

Finally back in Auckland, shopping for lunch at Mt Eden Foodtown.

See: Laura Hill (Toni Warner) from Shortland Street.
Did: Typical Kiwi thing

Which was: To totally avoid eye contact, thus leaving her to quietly read the latest gossip in her NZ Womans Weekly, without asking her for her autograph.

I wasnt the only one avoiding her either! Cute as a button, she was.

Celeb? Come to NZ, we will IGNORE YOU: We are that polite :)

A better day

One of the amazing things about Dunedin are the characters that remain in town. Just the other day I was sitting in the Ra Bar, in Dunedin's Octagon, when "Speedy" raced past.
Back in the 80's the Government of the day decided that the "ever so slightly" mentally ill in our community would be better suited living in the community rather than to be locked away safe and sound away from the rest of us. Don't worry - The very mentally ill are still locked up - well most of them anyway; but i digress....

Speedy has long been known around Dunedin. He can often be seen walking at a brisk pace through the middle of town, weaving through the pedestrian traffic with a small ghetto blaster at his ear. No one really knows where he is going - but he's always on a mission to get there in time. At one stage in the 80's he dressed up in a purple or pink Lycra jumpsuit and was known as the purple (or pink) peeper (for obvious reasons I wont go into here).

The second guy I always look forward to seeing is the "Singing Guy". This guy may not be addled in any way - perhaps it's just the way he sings - but a trip to Dunedin is not complete without hearing him at work. Busking in George Street or outside a local supermarket "Singing Guy" offers me the opportunity to play a quick game of "guess that song". Normally this would be an easy challenge - but "Singing Guy" has a unique style of singing involving much clapping of hands (never in time with the song he is singing - I hasten to add). I especially love his version of "He's got the ----whole --------world -inhis-------hands"; I love a good musical challenge.

I will be sad to leave this fine city, come Tuesday....

Ummm

Peter Chin does his best Fonzie impression

Ok - so this will probably get me shot down in flames, BUT I agree with quite a bit of the email that was sent to me the other day.

I'd be interested in Di's response to this tirade - and I hope she bothers to tag on a comment.

Basically, as outlined in the comments previously, I believe in one law for all New Zealander's. The sooner the "perceived" differences in the law are dealt with, the better (or worse off) we ALL will be.

It's unfortunate that stereotypes abound, but in my mind, when you decide to move to another country, you should look to integrate your culture into that country. I should perhaps put a caveat in to exclude foreign spouses of locals, but on the most part I believe you should at least try to be a part of the community around you.

Dunedin is a good example of the merging of cultures, at least as far as the Chinese community are concerned. Anyone who has been to the Chinese New Year celebrations in Dunedin can attest to the amazing atmosphere in this otherwise stoic "Scottish" town.

Our Mayor is Peter Chin, and his bio reads something like this;
Peter (Wing Ho) Chin is a lawyer and former Dunedin city councillor who in 2004 was elected mayor of Dunedin. A descendant of one of New Zealand’s earliest Chinese families, he is a member of the national Chinese Poll Tax Trust which was set up with government funding in 2004. The trust aims to raise awareness of the early Chinese community in New Zealand and its history, language and culture.

The Chinese in Otago have endured. Their language and culture are still alive and well, even though their introduction into New Zealands' culture was nothing to be proud of. Many methods were employed to halt their immigration, including the Chinese Poll Tax in 1881.

Maybe it's not PC, but I cant help but smile when someone of a different ethnic origin walks up to me, and says "Gidday Mate" or something like that in a Kiwi accent. And No - It's not just because they sound like "us", or are finally one of "us" colonials. It's just that I no longer see him or her as Chinese, or Maori, or anything else anymore - I just see another Kiwi.

I'm not a Christian, but I hate seeing Christmas being downgraded because of the possibility of offending cultures that don't believe in Christ. I don't like seeing crosses removed from clock towers, so as not to upset others; The traditional "Lords Prayer" in private schools being removed.... the list goes on.

New Zealand was a country founded on Christianity, and it is, for better or worse, our heritage. If we refuse to acknowledge our past, and not cherish what has come before, pandering to a multitude of minorities will leave us nothing to celebrate; and what a bland lot we will become.

Sgt Pepper Blues

So...who am I today?

Am I Paul McCartney singing..
I've got to admit it's getting better, its getting better all the time.

Or am I John Lennon quipping - It couldnt get much worse..

Time will tell...

I've been thinking about this email that arrived in my inbox today;

After Wellington not wanting to offend other cultures by putting up Xmas lights.

After hearing that we are going to let a Muslim woman have her picture on her drivers license with her face covered.

This prompted this editorial written by a New Zealand Citizen.

Quote:

IMMIGRANTS , NOT NEW ZEALANDERS, MUST ADAPT. TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT!

I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individuals or their culture. I am not against immigration, nor do I hold a grudge against anyone who is seeking a better life by coming to New Zealand.

However, there are a few things that those who have recently come to our country and apparently some born here, need to understand.

This idea of New Zealand being a multicultural community has served only to dilute our sovereignty and our national identity. As New Zealanders, we have our own culture, our own society, our own language and our own lifestyle.

Our culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom, even died for it.

We Speak ENGLISH or MAORI , not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian or any other language. Therefore if you wish to become part of New Zealand society, -- Learn the language!

"In God we trust" is our national Motto. This is not some Christian, right wing, political slogan. We adopted this motto because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented.

It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then it is recommended that you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.

If the Southern Cross offends you, or you don't like "A FAIR GO", then you should seriously consider a move to another part of this planet.

We are happy with our culture and have no desire to change, and we really don't care how you did things where you came from, This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, AND OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this. But once you are done complaining, whining, and or griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our National Motto, or Our Way Of Life, then you are Highly encourage to take advantage of one other great New Zealand freedom "THE RIGHT TO LEAVE"


LEAVE if you aren't happy here then ##@* off! We didn't force you to come here.
YOU asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted. It's pretty easy really, when you think about it


I figure if we all keep passing this to our friends (and enemies) it will also, sooner or later, get back to the complainers. Lets all try.

Ani DiFranco

Thanks to Ian's broken IPOD

"32 Flavors"

squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
and I'm beyond your peripheral vision
so you might want to turn your head
cause someday you're going to get hungry
and eat most of the words you just said

both my parents taught me about good will
and I have done well by their names
just the kindness I've lavished on strangers
is more than I can explain
still there's many who've turned out their porch lights
just so I would think they were not home
and hid in the dark of their windows
til I'd passed and left them alone

and god help you if you are an ugly girl
course too pretty is also your doom
cause everyone harbors a secret hatred
for the prettiest girl in the room
and god help you if you are a pheonix
and you dare to rise up from the ash
a thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy
while you are just flying back

I'm not trying to give my life meaning
by demeaning you
and I would like to state for the record
I did everything that I could do
I'm not saying that I'm a saint
I just don't want to live that way
no, I will never be a saint
but I will always say

squint your eyes and look closer
I'm not between you and your ambition
I am a poster girl with no poster
I am thirty-two flavors and then some
And I'm beyond your peripheral vision
So you might want to turn your head
Cause someday you might find you're starving
and eating all of the words you said

One of life's Mysteries

IG and Tyler wax lyrical

Why, after numerous glasses of red wine, do otherwise sane men venture to the nearest deck with cigars in hand?

I can't accurately put into words the disgusting taste in my mouth this morning, and I'm so dehydrated I asked Sandra to run in a saline line for me. I am yet to hear her reply, although I suspect she would rather watch me suffer!

But then again, our entry into the world was a traumatic affair - why not the new year as well?

My head hurts!

Happy New Year

It's time like these, near the end of the year, that thoughts of martyrdom come to mind.

It seems to me that each of us, in our own way, suffer from this malaise to some degree. I wonder if our lives would be all the more richer if we took some time to examine why we become one who makes great sacrifices or suffers much in order to further a belief, cause, or principle. Especially if that principle is self serving.

Isn't it funny that so many people choose to suffer for some pointless ideal, while others seem to get off scot free without a care in the world - but wait: isn't that the point?
Surely the whole idea of enjoying this life is not about getting pissed off at those people who don't play by the rules and leave it for others to clean up. Maybe the point is to truly let that doesn't truly matter; slide.

So my New Years wish for you, is that you find a way to unburden yourself from whatever jihad you have embarked on, and that you find the strength, not only to find your inner martyr, but to analyse it for what it is, and if it's not worthy, to break free of it.

Life is short, and happiness is there to be found, but only by those who seek to find it. Be that person next year, but if you must - make today a last chance to savour the bitter before the sweet.

Spreading Blame

So here I am in Dunedin, enjoying the Christmas festivities. I'm happy to report the more genetically unstable of us here have started growing webbed feet to combat the rain since Christmas Day. However, I remain ever positive about venturing home, and that work on the Great Ark is progressing well.

Then I read the newspaper today.

It now appears that all New Zealand must own up to the responsibility of spousal murder. Don't get me wrong - spousal murder is a serious matter, but I wonder how responsible I am for the whole thing.

I hardly drink, and I now obey the speed limits. I don't break the law - yet now I'm lumbered with the responsibility of spousal violence.

Dr Pita Sharples states;

"I believe we find the whole situation abhorrent. We have handled it by denial – it is not our problem, it is a drug problem, a Maori problem, an Islander problem – instead of taking this on as a New Zealand problem which at all levels of our society we need to confront."

I'm wondering where Pita Sharples is going with this. Does he think we're happy to have partners murdering each other on a daily basis?

Pita Sharples needs to get real - there are underlying reasons for all murders, and I believe most sane people believe that murder is not a positive option in a polite society.

Yes - We do however have certain individuals in our community that rely on drugs and alcohol to cope with the pressures of life, and yes, that unfortunately impacts on the lives of others; often in a serious manner. But to infer that we all have played some part in condoning this behavior is ridiculous.

In fact, come to think of it, I'm pretty sure we elected the current politicians on a platform of law and order. In a roundabout way we asked them to protect us from crime, to provide us with adequate health care and better quality of life - so this begs the question - Isn't it you that's responsible Pita?

Bad Santa

Billy Bob’s Father Christmas is about as politically incorrect a figure as you will likely see all year. This movie wallows in its shamelessness. Lauren Graham holds her own with Thornton as a waitress with a Santa Claus fetish. Throw in an angry dwarf and you have a brutally funny film that is sure to ruin any shred of Christmas spirit.

See it - I promise you you'll never feel the same about the Gilmore Girls again!

Merry Christmas!

Rude Bits

Stolen from Green Street Girl (Who posted this via a link - chicken!)

Dave Brown's Mob

The usual suspects - (Vaughan second from the right)

Around the mid nineties, my boss Murray got made redundant, and what was left of our staff moved into another section. That in itself was no big deal - by that stage we went through a restructure around every eight months; what made this time different, was that we were being merged with a completely different group of workers.

The Post Office, god bless it, in its day, was a very structured business. Before it was broken up and sold, there was a place for everyone; and everyone had their place. Even in the cafeteria, we all sat in our own groups, and hardly a word was spoken to anyone who didn't do the same job as you. We didn't trust "them" and they sure as hell didn't trust "us", and all was well with the world.

When my boss "left" we merged into a group of "them" and they had to put up with "us". It's fair to say there was a fair degree of mistrust; at least initially. Some of the guys were a bit intimidating, especially a guy they called Weaner, who to us, looked like a bloody tough street brawler, that would have taken your head off if you looked at him funny - or perhaps just if you looked at him - period.

I still remember the first Friday afternoon beer after work. Dave Brown, my new boss, used to always have a stock of beers ready for us in the lunchroom after work, and Weaner looked like he wasn't really interested in sharing with the new guys. In fact it looked like he took exception to us even breathing the same air as him.

These days - looking back at it I can laugh, because in actuality you couldn't find a nicer guy to know than Weaner- but back then it was a different story. What really broke the ice, was a friendly guy called Vaughan, who passed us a beer, as we meekly walked into the lunchroom. Vaughn with the big smile - and a possibility of someone of substance coming between Weaner and me should he snap in a fit of rage.

Suffice to say I learnt some big lessons that day - It takes one smiling face to put you at ease, and you cant always judge a book by it's cover.

These days, recalling working with those guys remain my fondest memories of Telecom - they were all a breath of fresh air, in a time when it looked like nothing was left for us to enjoy anymore. We striked together - fought together to have a collective contract, then later to remain staff of Telecom when they tried to pawn us off to Downer Engineering. Vaughan and Weaner had families, but they hung on for as long as they could. I admired them and the others for their tenacity, but I realised that at the end of the day they would have to do what was right for them. I was happy when they signed over - it was the right thing for them to do.

I left Downers over four years ago - I never did sign over, and I don't regret it either. There were some great guys I left behind when I went. Weaner left before I did, but Vaughan was still there. I always enjoyed going back to say hi whenever I was in Dunedin - Nigs, Robbo, Did's, Dave, Murray, Robbie and Vaughan always had the big smiles on their faces, and I felt in some way i had returned to a sort of family.

Not that long ago I got word that Vaughan was sick, and that things weren't looking good. He died this morning, leaving the world a little less bright today. Even though I worked with him for years, I never knew his family, or saw him away from his work - but he was a gentle bear of a man, full of heart and good will, and those will be the memories that remain with me now he isn't here.

I was hoping to see him at Christmas, to say goodbye, but also to remind him of the good times we had, and to thank him for that first beer. I'm sure now he knows now, just how much it meant :)

Poetry

It's times like this when lyrics, or parts of movies pop into my head.
Stuff like "Breathe out - so I can breathe you in" springs to mind.
The poetry of today may as easily be found in the lyrics of a song, rather than any book of poems.
I hardly ever listen to lyrics - to me the music comes first. My friend Matt is wired differently, and always extols the virtues of a song based on its lyrical content. Perhaps some of his influence is rubbing off on me: he was, after all, the man who turned me on to the brilliance of Fight Club.
So when I listened to my latest Foo Fighters DVD; Skin and Bones, and Dave Grohl sings;

And I wonder if everything could ever feel this real forever?
If anything could ever be this good again?
The only thing I'll ever ask of you
You've got to promise not to stop when I say when.

I have to admit that "Evermore" is a brilliant song - in more ways than one.

Current musings

This week marks the end of what has been a full on year, work wise. Wednesday was the start of what we in the telecoms industry call a "brownout". Basically it is a known fact that in the short term, not touching communications equipment, means that equipment will be a lot more reliable, so just prior to Christmas we stop our contractors from working on our equipment. Unfortunately this does not mean that all work stops; any daily faults are still sent out for repair, and we use the time to get "all our ducks in a row" (whatever that means). Suffice to say though, this can be an enjoyable part of the year; the weather is brilliant, and there are pub lunches and shouts available to drag you away from the hum-drum normality of work.

I'm also looking forward to heading back to Dunedin; catching up with my family and friends. My Capri is getting it's warrant of fitness, and I'm looking forward to driving her again after a year in storage: that in itself, is a Christmas present.

Until then I have a great weekend in which to fly my RC helicopter, do some last minute Christmas shopping, and meet up with an old friend who I havent seen for around 10 years. It is a bit daunting so meet someone you kinda fell out with that long ago, but I hope that any bad memories on either side will have long been lost, leaving only the good ones remaining. I hope.

Diversions

You Are An ENFP

The Inspirer You love being around people, and you are deeply committed to your friends. You are also unconventional, irreverant, and unimpressed by authority and rules. Incredibly perceptive, you can usually sense if someone has hidden motives. You use lots of colorful language and expressions. You're qutie the storyteller! You would make an excellent entrepreneur, politician, or journalist.

What's Your Personality Type?

Having a Cow.

TRADITIONAL CAPITALISM: You have two cows.
You sell one and buy a bull.
Your herd multiplies, and the economy grows. You sell them and retire on the income.

ENRON VENTURE CAPITALISM:
You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by the majority shareholder who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. Sell one cow to buy new president of the United States, leaving you with nine cows. No balance sheet provided with the release. The public buys your bull.

AN AMERICAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You sell one, and force the other to produce the milk of four cows. You are surprised when the cow drops dead.

A FRENCH CORPORATION
You have two cows. You go on strike because you want three cows.

A JAPANESE CORPORATION
You have two cows. You redesign them so they are one-tenth the size of an ordinary cow and produce twenty times the milk. You then create clever cow cartoon images called Cowkimon and market them worldwide.

A GERMAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You re-engineer them so they live for 100 years, eat once a month, and milk themselves.

A BRITISH CORPORATION
You have two cows. Both are mad.

AN ITALIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows, but you don't know where they are. You break for lunch.

A RUSSIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You count them and learn you have five cows. You count them again and learn you have 42 cows. You count them again and learn you have 12 cows. You stop counting cows and open another bottle of vodka.

A SWISS CORPORATION
You have 5000 cows, none of which belong to you. You charge others for storing them.

A CHINESE CORPORATION
You have two cows. You have 300 people milking them. You claim full employment, high bovine productivity, and arrest the newsman who reported the numbers.

AN INDIAN CORPORATION
You have two cows. You worship them.

A NEW ZEALAND CORPORATION
You have two cows Methane gas production (hot air) funds acquisition of strategic Australian Dairy Companies controlling 2000 cows. Liquidate Australian cows for dog tucker and milk harder

Kara and I

For a change of pace I thought it might be refreshing to write a more - stream of consciousness - post.
With that in mind I'd like to blog about something close to my heart : Battlestar Galactica.
Honest to god - this program is fracking amazing. For those of you that think that you can judge a book from its cover - I implore you to give Battlestar the benefit of the doubt.
Some may think it is a space opera of some sorts - and they would be right. But along with the space opera there are serious themes to be discovered - and along with that, some amazing characters.

The plots from week to week follow some disturbing events happening right here, right now. Parallels between Battlestar's treatment of Cylons and ...say for the sake of argument, Arab detainees in Cuba seem on the surface - evident - and with good cause. And while I can in no way condone tossing people out airlocks - di's recent post of peoples laptops being detained in the US of A, ensures that tossing people out of airlocks is just around the humanitarian corner - so to speak.

The character of the moment is, in my mind, Starbuck. For some reason, this wreck of a person, has captured my heart, and for the life of me I cant bring myself to condemn her. Sure - She is waaaay out in left field but regardless of her faults, her heart is in the right place, even if her mind isn't. Face it - we can forgive any digressions - if - and only if - their hearts are in the right place. Faults abound - but people persist regardless. I hope she has some sort of redemption upcoming - God knows she deserves it. Like a kitten left at your door step - it's impossible to not let her into your heart and home, in the hope that you dont regret it when the good will runs out.

Give Battlestar a chance - and while you're at it- cut Starbuck some slack, or at least someone you know with a heart of gold, but a few less than fatal flaws.

Quote of the week

Man! - I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who've ever lived.
I see all this potential, and I see squandering.
God damn it! - an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need.
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, and movie gods, and rock stars.
But we won't.
And we're slowly learning that fact: And we're very, very pissed off.

Are we too old for our own good?

After my last post I'm in a quandary. Are all my posts firmly rooted in my past?

I'm not sure there is an easy answer to that question. We are, after all the collection of our experiences - good and bad - and any experiences, and our reactions to them are influenced by what has come before. I also understand the statute of limitations, and where it applies - in the past we did some incredibly stupid things. Today, I'm proud to say, I still do stupid things - but i hasten to add - less life threatening stupid things. For example; Trying to ride your motorcycle over 150 mph on a bumpy but straight piece of road sounds like fun - until you start to think about what would happen if ANYTHING bad happened next. At 25 years of age you don't - but these days these thoughts do slip in occasionally.

I'm not sure when personal responsibility started playing a more significant role in my life. Some would say I was always an old bastard at heart - and to them I must admit some truth to that statement; I actually got rung up on Friday night by Donna (a younger co-worker), who asked how my knitting was going - the cheeky cow.

Also, writing about more recent exploits might cause more discomfort than would be intended. Writing about such things as glitter transfer, the weird navigation to/from Showgirls venues in strange cities, or other things that happen "on tour" would be breaking some kind of official secrets act, I'm sure.

In the meantime I'll drink to selective madness, with limited repercussions - and the occasional nod to the bit of brain that stops me before I step over that line, wherever that line may be.

U2 and Me

My relationship with U2 began around 1980. Back in 1983 a day didn't go by without U2's album Boy hitting the turntables in our senior common room at The Taieri High School. Back in the day the main staples (music wise) were The Police, Spandau Ballet, Kissing the Pink - and obviously U2.
I will go on record in saying that I thought the studio version of I will Follow sucked but the unique style of music U2 offered was a breath of fresh air, when compared to the new romantic dross of Duran Duran, The Style Council, and Talk Talk. I say dross now - obviously - but at the time Duran Duran's video clip "MTV" style over substance existance was lapped up by all and sundry, and like the followers of fashion all 17 year olds are, I brought into it hook line and sinker.
When U2 released "War", I was a U2 junkie - seeing Bono as a plausible role model - I wanted to be up there waving that white flag yelling "No More" during Sunday Bloody Sunday: the little idealist I was. "Live Under a Blood Red Sky" was the full-stop and the end of that chapter of U2's story, and many of us were ill equipped to deal with the abrupt change of direction offered by "An Unforgettable Fire". It wasn't until their "Joshua Tree" album hit the streets, that I started listening to them again - and I became somewhat envious of the new fans following U2. They werent as jaded as me - and the nerve of them to think that Joshua Tree was U2's best album. Fools!
Over the years since, U2 and I have crossed paths now and again. We saw eye to eye on "Achung Baby" , were barely talking during "Zooropa". The trial separation during "Pop" was difficult. U2 were courting a new legion of fans: there was a party I wasnt invited to - and I wondered where it would all end.
I've been to see U2 on every tour to New Zealand since 1983. When Love Comes to Town, with BB King in Christchurch was brilliant, as was Zooropa - although for very different reasons. The BB King show was a road trip with my friends and remains a warm memory of that time. The Zooropa concert was a last minute thing for Roons and I - the technology on show was mind boggling - I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
Last weekend U2 played at Mount Smart Stadium. I have to admit that I was aprehensive: did I really want to see tham again - after 13 years. Would we still get on?
Tim, Sandra, Jim and Bridge came up from down south to stay for the weekend. We headed off to the concert on foot, after it became obvious that the trains could not carry the crowds of people. The rain beat down on all of us shuffling toward the stadium, but people of all ages moved as one - it was a bizzare feeling of unity.
The concert was amazing. A TV reviewer actually complained that the crowd was singing too much - but he was a complete prat. I have to say that again - he was a complete and utter prat.
A prat who couldn't understand that concept of a group of people, bound together in a relationship - a love of music - and of a band that has touched so many people over so many years. When Bono and the crowd sang along to the words of New Years Day " Say that it's true, it's true - we can break through. Torn in two we can be one"... I knew I was lucky to be a part of it.