Breathe in right away, Nothing seems to fill this place I need this every time, Take your lies - get off my case Someday I will find a love That flows through me like this This will fall away, this will fall away.
Some days it seems like it just isn't enough. For some it's more often - others less.
Still a little bit of your song in my ear Still a little bit of your words I long to hear You step a little closer to me So close that I can't see what's going on
Her "I see you haven't attacked that stubble on your face again today Glen" (silence)
Him "No Laura, but it's nice to see you've had a shave this morning" (deafening silence)
I love a good comeback, especially when people on attack often use an awkward moment to point score. The guys was so obviously indifferent as he shuffled out of the lift; a winner in every possible way.
Years ago I would hate having to be polite when older relatives or parents friends would come out with the most inappropriate comments like;
"God you've put on weight" "Haven't you got a girlfriend yet?" "Goodness, where did all your hair go"?
Part of me just wanted to tell them to get fucked and die, but children brought up in the 60's and 70's were often seen and not heard. Old habits die hard it seems.
It's so ridiculously silly, but after watching ten years and 214 episodes of StargateSG1 in a row over the last two months, now it has drawn to a close, I feel I have lost something important in my life.
Yep - I know it's just a TV show, but isn't it strange when we invest so much time with people,things or places, we cant help but miss them when they are no longer there. Some of us are wired differently I guess.
Although I'm not about to rush out and buy an authentic looking SG1 uniform and head off to the next Sci-Fi convention, through this all I honestly believe these feelings of loss to be a good thing. Nonsensical feelings for those we don't know, this empathy for something outside our own sphere of existence could, one day, be our one saving grace. How to nurture those feelings of interconnectedness with each other could one day ensure our survival as a species. No?
This scene, although not typical of the series as a whole, is one of my favorites.
Ok...now a list of 20 things your really glad you did? i'm intrieged!
I've been putting this off - not sure how to write this down, but Anonymous deserves an answer. There are many of the 20 things I have amended in the last twenty years, but there are eight I'm sure I'll be working on to the day I die.
So here goes....
I'm really proud of the friends that I've made. The quality of the people that stand with me in this life, that support my choices, and accept me as I am.
I'm happy that I've haven't broken, succumbed to the wills of others. Sure, it's life; you have to bend a little to fit, but if you bend too much you break. I'm true to myself; I'm more certain about myself now than I was once, and I haven't changed the core essence of who I've always been.
I'm happy with how I've treated others. Sure, everyone at some point has hurt another person, and I have let some people go, but I haven't strung people along. I've never manipulated situations to be with someone, or taken advantage of a situation to get what I personally want - regardless how much I've wanted it. I've seen others lie, cheat, and manipulate their partners - and although in some cases the ends have justified the means (for them), they never will for me.
I'd like to think I'm loyal and honest. I'm not above telling a white lie to protect someone, but if someone asks me something straight up, I'm going to give them an answer. Even if they don't want to hear it. It's a double edged sword, but most people appreciate it.
I speak my mind. When I'm upset, or concerned I tackle issues, even if it seems stupid. More often than not, people are clear on how I view things I'm passionate about. I pick my battles, and I'm not short on stubbornness when push comes to shove.
I have faith in the goodness of others. I'm not naive to believe every one on this earth is good, but I look to a persons heart, and I'm not often fooled.
Most of the time I'm a very positive person. Although it may not always seem the case in what I write here, there is a balance to my life. Perhaps I should write about more positive stuff - but I just tend to live the happy stuff instead :)
I've always been an independent soul. I love people, but I can also be alone. So many people in this world fear that - but through independence I've come to know myself; my worth, and better yet I have continued to grow as I question myself. I treat my friends as individuals as well - partners, husbands or wives do not exist in my world; If I am your friend it is because of you, and you alone.
After six years as a prisoner of Colombia's rebels, the former presidential candidate rushed on to the plane that brought her children from France and threw her arms around Lorenzo, 19, and Melanie, 22.
"They're my babies. They're my pride and my reason for living, my light, my moon, my stars," Betancourt said, holding their heads close as they planted kisses on her cheeks.
Betancourt emerged with a pallid complexion from years under the forest canopy, but she beamed as she stood arm-in-arm with her children.
"Nirvana, paradise - that must be very similar to what I feel at this moment," said Betancourt, 46. "It's like being born again."
Science Fiction is an existential metaphor that allows us to tell stories about the human condition. Issac Asimov once said; individual Science Fiction stories may seem as trivial as ever to the blinder critics and philosophers of today, but the core of Science Fiction, its essence has become crucial to our salvation, if we are to be saved at all. Scene from Stargate SG-1 - Episode 200
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Some days you'd be better off staying in bed. Like today, perhaps? By 11 am I'd already told one of my workmates to "Go get Fucked" (with meaning, I should add). If you were to ask any of my close friends if this was typical behaviour, they would hopefully come to my defense with a resounding NO. So much of what I write here is honest. I believe that to be aware of ones motivations, anger, frustration, is better than to bury it all and hope for the best. So with all this introspection, it comes as a complete surprise that I should get upset for no definable reason; even more confused to think it may be a myriad of smaller vectors. I haven't even scratched the surface. Butterflies beating their wings in some far land reining down chaos on my day are infinitely more reassuring than simply feeling better after lunch; I'd hate to think all of this PMS'ing came down to just having low frakking blood sugar.
Hunter S Thompson on the feelings of optimism in the late 60's
There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .
[It never lasted - Thompson continued on...]
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Twenty things I wish I did in the last twenty years
Saved 10% of my salary since 1986 Brought a house Asked NFG to marry me Believed in myself more Embrace what i couldn't change about myself Changed my job at least twice Pushed myself Accepted less crap from others Expected more Drunk less Inhaled Was less judgmental More open minded Felt the fear and did it anyway Cut my losses more quickly Made more mistakes Bent or broke the rules Lived the moment while I was in it Damned the consequences Make a difference
The concern is not so much how many I can still do, but how many I can actually make myself do in the time I have left here.
Best heard live, this duet by Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks is lovely, yet bittersweet. I love the live version on the "Pack up the Plantation" CD. This clip's audio is a little too sterile, especially given the story being told.
You've got a dangerous background And everything you've dreamed of Yeah you're the Dark Angel It don't show when you break up And I'm the one who oughta know I'm the one left in the dust Yeah I'm the broken hearted fool Who was never quite enough
I am thinking it's partially about infatuation. I have learned that this is not necessarily a good thing. I understand that some people may prefer a challenge to a sure thing. and I wonder if anything else is enough.
Just as the clock struck 4pm, the rain began to fall. I was already at the rear exit door, ready to escape the office for the 10 meter walk to my car. After the first step, the drops fell harder; I should have turned back then; hindsight is 20:20 'though. Six paces later the rain was setting up a suppression fire around the car park. People were diving for cover, as the torrents lashed down on their targets. Water ran like blood over the asphalt. Mother nature, her thirst unquenchable, unleashed hell: it started to hail. On the mad dash to my car I came across two fallen comrades in the car park, fishing for a dropped set of keys under a storm water grate. Irony was at work here too. I moved on without regard - a man possessed; no time to save the lives of keys long lost to the will of nature; they were dead - they just didn't know it yet*. A mere 10 seconds later I had made it to the safety of my car - I had survived another day.
I can cope with being wet: living in Dunedin most of my life has cured me of any potential Ombrophobic tendencies, but the one thing I cant stand is wet feet. Thirty minutes later, squishing loudly (and sadly), I walked from my garage to the living room, I retired my shoes to the hot water cupboard for a few hours, knowing later that evening I had to go back to work.
People - I would like to try and convey some of the joy I experienced when I put those shoes back on later that evening. I'd like to, but I doubt I'd be able to do justice to the emotion. My only wish is that you too can one day experience this moment of nirvana - try it soon.
Perhaps on a cold winters morning, when the still bedroom air seems to assault you at every turn as you attempt to start a new day, grab those shoes from their warm resting spot. Warm shoes on one's feet can create a smile that takes some beating, even after the hell of a thunderstorm.
I've been thinking about Def Leppard a lot lately. OK - You can stop laughing right now!
If you stop to think of the other music around the 80's, Def Leppards' music actually hasn't dated too horrifically, at least compared to the other dross we were inflicted with back then. Those who led the charge with critical musical passion may have started with Bauhaus or Shakespeare's Sister, but quickly strayed to Michael Bolton, Milli Vanilli, and Wet Wet Wet whilst dating. Yes - Many fine men were lost, some perhaps, never recovered .... (not thinking of anyone in particular, ya understand?) The 80's were indeed a troubled time musically - sure you could struggle through with The Stones or Led Zep on your turntable, but listening to Uriah Heap or Motorhead didn't get you laid. Come to think of it - it probably still doesn't.
While the local AM (Yes - AM!!!!) radio station pumped out such classics a Centerfold by the J. Geils Band, or Let's Hear it for the Boy by who the fuck cares (I still shudder with that memory) - finding a more rockier sound was harder than you'd first believe. You could go the New Romantic route, and face it, most of us did - but lets just forget that ever happened OK?
So - In the meantime a little album by Def Leppard called Hysteria sold shit-loads of Cassettes and CD's in New Zealand . I recall being in Wanaka over the Christmas it was released , playing Animal on a minuscule battery powered ghetto blaster in the back of my Capri, all this because CD players weren't really about then.
Years later I still listen to this album - maybe not the syrupy tracks like "Love Bites" or "Throw some Sugar on Me", but "Dogs of War" still rates highly, as do a few other tracks.
And lest we forget, back in the day, if a guy just happened to be a bit of a bogan, and he just wanted to show a sensitive side to his bogan girlfriend, (in the faint hope she's throw him a shag) there was always this track.
If you think I'm still taking the piss, take a listen to this. Just goes to show you, although we all get older, our talents still remain.
[Don't worry if you don't get this post - just follow its example]
There are a lot of things I should be more upset about. The fact that I even take time to dwell on these pettier emotions, shows that I have far too much time on my hands for this angst.
I mean - why do I get so upset when I see yet another "Director's Cut" of Bladerunner at the DVD store. Is it perhaps, because I have to sit through yet another reinterpretation of the story?
I wonder, when the night finally takes me, as I lie down to sleep - Is Harrison Ford's much hated monologue intact ? Will we find out - definatively - if he is really a replicant ? Will I actually see more through the light, mist, and atmosphere in this version, and if I do, will it actually make sense? I wonder these things before I drift off - because, years on, I believe Harrison probably wonders as well. How many times oh Lord - How many times?
Donnie Darko has also been re-released with commentary from Kevin Smith and director Richard Kelly. With music originally intended for the film, but initially cost prohibitively denied, it just happens to be missing the brilliant cast commentary from the original release, especially around "Sparkle Motion" and Mary "Stands with Fists" McDonald. Trust me - get the early version. I might be able to save you - but not I.... I have two copies.
Serenity director Joss Weaton has released a Directors cut that I've also purchased. It's probably the same version as the old one that I gave to Writer Girl, but I so desperately want Fox to sanction another movie, I'd buy more copies if I thought it would make a difference. Jewel Staite mentioned recently that Joss was getting the Firefly cast back together for the comments track on the Blu Ray version of Serenity. A Blu Ray fucking version - OMFG! I don't even have a Blu Ray player - but if Fox are ever going to sanction that movie...
Actually- come to think about it - just don't talk to me about Firefly - everyone I know who's watched that show left wanting more. Years later, in yet another interview, Jewel Staite still rates Kaylee as her favourite character. (sigh).
Still - all these wishes and frustrations are a blissful refrain from a potential boredom waiting just around the corner. Be different - embrace that, that makes you you. Embrace that, that makes you different. In a world where conformity is an easy, yet strangely unobtainable option, our uniqueness is all that we truly own. Don't give it up without a fight, and just for a change, take some time to admire people who live their lives on the outskirts of the herd; even if they aren't treading the same path you are. They are, after all, kindred spirits.
So - a flirtatious email surfaced inside my work in-box yesterday. Is there anything more stupid than dating someone you work with? Someone younger than the (1/2 your age + 8) year calculation, allows for.
Yep - Upon reflection I'm sure that it's a great idea.
I just wanted a much simpler life. Somewhere, I know someone is mocking me!
Accepting things I can't change has always been an issue for me.
I could learn to live with it all, if life didn't have a habit of fucking with me by continually dumping new and varied crap for me to deal with. Life in its infinite wisdom may have been trying telling me something for some time, but like most people I'm loathe to listen to things I don't want to hear.
I may elaborate at a later date, but not before first assuring friends and family they don't have to stage an intervention. One of the worst things about writing personal stuff here is that too many friends and family drop by to see how I'm going. In some respect a degree of anonymity would be a welcome change. That's why I admire Fish and Dooce so much; they put it out there for the world to see day after day, and they just don't seem to care. Lately I've been holding back, and because of that I'm starting to feel like I'm not moving forward here. Don't get me wrong This is ALL my fault - and I will have to deal with it sooner or later. Knowing me - it will be later - always later. :)
I read somewhere - "You never learn anything while you're talking". An interesting statement, and although it's one thing to listen; when you don't quite understand the language, those lessons can take time to learn.
One thing I have come to realise is that making ones luck isn't something you can do retrospectively. I'm guessing at least in that respect, I'm correct.
Sometimes my musical tastes are extremely eclectic.
I feel the need to justify this, I really do - it's just that I cant find the words. Please forgive me, but on the off chance that you like it too - it will have to be our dirty little secret - OK?
Setting: Three guys stand around a work desk discussing the early stages of beard growth.
[fade in]
Mark to Jase: "You had an impressive beard going there for a while Jase." Jase: "Thanks, although it drove me mad when it got to that itchy phase" Mark: "Yeah - I cant get past that - eventually I have to shave" Sam: "It's quite prickly though - right" Jase: "Actually it's quite soft" Sam: "What about your partners? Don't they mind?" Mark: "Well I'm single - so it doesn't really matter" Jase: "I'm single as well, so it's the same for me" Sam (English as second language): " Oh.. I'm sorry.. I didnt mean to mention your...(searching for word)... inadequacy" Jase:"(silence)" Mark: " It's OK Sam - really" Jase: "Yeah - It's fine" Sam: (nods head - oblivious)
The following email appeared in my mailbox today. I wonder in the future, upon reflection, if historians will view polictical correctness the same way that they do McCarthyism from the 40's and 50's. I believe it's gone too far, and sooner or later there will be a backlash....
The following is the winning entry from an annual contest at Texas A & M University calling for the most appropriate definition of a contemporary term. This year's term was 'Political Correctness'. The winner wrote:
'Political Correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.'
First off - I refuse to apologize for the 80's. I know part of me feels I should, but I can't:)
I'm sure in the years to come the 70's parties I once went to will morph into parties revolving around the excess of the 80's. Party goers will, no doubt, be heading off with knitted ties, leather boots, black lipstick ,rounding the whole thing off with massive shoulder pads - and that'll be just the boys!
Don't forget - the 80's may be remembered for their excesses, but they also brought us some amazing music. Ushering in the 80's were The Clash with London Calling; it's wasn't all Duran Duran, and the Style Council, although people in general tend to remember the bands that pushed the envelope of (lack of) style I guess. In the early 80's Pink Floyd released their concept album The Wall, Springsteen released The River, and a little known group of schoolmates from Dublin won a battle of the bands contest to record and album for CBS called Three. CBS passed on the band, and U2 signed with Island Records; the rest is history.
Band Aid came and went - I still remember the Queen set on that day. They were amazing. Live8 was an unfortunate attempt to capture some small part of the spirit of that original day - It was obvious the original audience wasn't going to get what they wanted as too much had changed in the years since; all that promise - had come to nothing.
Other bands that I personally remember making their mark in the 80's include; The Cure, Depeche Mode, Queen, Guns and Roses, REM, The Pretenders, AC/DC, and strangely, the B52's....
Sure, Duran Duran were a self indulgent guilty pleasure. Robert Palmer was very possibly simply irresistible, and Michael Jackson may have thrilled us by taking off this sunglasses at the Grammy's. and.. a lot of British pop involved cardigans and crappy music videos but don't forget US pop consisted, in the main, of guys with huge hair, leather and makeup singing Girls Girls Girls (or variants thereof) ,
but...
though it all was an optimism that seems to be sadly lacking today. I miss the boom days of the 80's occasionally - just occasionally mind, and never for long.
Now, there's a whole genre of artists talking about get'n rich or die'n try'n. But those same guys are actually making a pretty good living off samples ripped from those same 80's songs, so I guess thats some kind of justice.
We children of the 80's may have had a hand in the way the world is today, but I'm not sure that the youth of today, given the same economic environment, wouldn't have made the same life choices we did. Personally, looking back though, I wish I'd paid more attention to the gold, and less on the glitter.
I received this email today, and after getting Writer Girl's permission I have posted it. Rest assured I am looking into a suitable excuse for not having posted on Eric Carmen before now. At this stage I'm having trouble just picking one out of the multitude.
[Post starts] I am concerned how Eric Carmen appears to be overlooked in your blog and by extension your music collection. Please see:-
Observe the sartorial daring of the man: his exploding head, tangerine makeup, shiny gold lame leopard print jacket with shoulder-pads (any of those adjectives would be enough indictment in themselves, never mind all together), the vest, the braces, the drainpipes and white sneakers. Wait for the dancers who re-enact highlights from 'Dirty Dancing' on stage.
If I ask you not to think about dark chocolate, what is the first thing you think of ? Yes, this isn't a trick - the answer is invariably dark chocolate.
I read a story once, where a naturally gifted pianist, with no musical training or influence listened (illegally) to a recording of Bach supplied by a fan. Because he knew it was (in the context of this story) illegal to listen to any others musical compositions, he tried to hide the fact he had heard the tune. Even though the concept of the structure of Bach as an artist was completely alien to him, (as were all other types of traditional music for that matter) he was eventually found out by those who uphold the law; not because they discovered the hidden recording, but because all shades of his music afterward that time were lacking in their Bach-ness.
His genius and musical purity, once praised from afar, were now corrupted, and so in this perfect world, it was deemed he could no longer play music again.
There may be no point to this post; or perhaps, just perhaps, this is just another case of dark chocolate. I'll leave it for you to decide.
P.S. The photo, I borrowed from here. I just that I love her smile; we should all smile this well :)
Remember how your head (and hair) moved back and forward in time with the music as you stood (or perhaps pogo'd) near the front row of a rock concert - before there were mosh pits even! I remember you - you were there; fists pounding the air; the power, the passion, and a smile you couldn't remove from your face if you tried?
For your listening please; The Cult of Personality by Living Colour. Listen, but only....only if you still wanna rock :)
Original Video here at Sony BMG's YouTube site. I cant embed it - yet I can link to it - go figure :(
Why is it you cant be addicted to something thats good for you ?
I ask this because I've been wondering if there shouldn't be some balance for the word "addicted". You know what I mean; some good to balance to all the nasty things we all can fall prey to. And I'm not just talking the hard stuff here; what about Chocolate Cake, Coca Cola, and other sugary treats. It's bollocks really isn't it ? When was the last time you heard someone was addicted to Bran? Yet "they" have to have it every morning right? Hmmm braaaaannn. I believe it's time to take back addiction from the bad, to remove the stigma of having an addictive tendencies.
I'm addicted; yep you heard me right. Maybe not to bran - lets face it - NEVER to Bran actually, but I've been making a list lately. And it's getting larger every day.
Just today I added a two new items.
1) "V" - Yep, but before you jump in and tell me each bottle has like 20 teaspoons of sugar in it, I'm talking the sugar free variety. God - when I first tried the sugar free variant after giving up the sugared up version i was struck by its HORRIDness. But determined, I stuck with it - determined to get past the vile taste to get to that sugar free goodness. It took a while but now it seems i always have 4 small cans in my fridge lurking - less energy than diet coke mind - take that you sugar Nazi's !!! Addicted and I don't care.
2) Massage therapy at the mall. Yeah - not the "You want extra's" kinda place. Nice and safe in plain sight at the mall. When you saunter in and ask for a massage that's what you get. Not one of those deals where they place hot stones on your back either. Nope - this is a mans massage - at the mall you get to keep your clothes on as they work out those knots and sprains after a stressful day in front of your office PC drinking caffeinated drinks, and doing lines of coke. All above board - nothing to see here - just keep moving along folks.
And no - I don't miss the sugary goodness. As much as the Green Party might try to ban things that taste sweet as well (yes - they believe we need to rid our craving of sweet things in general) - I don't miss the sugary goodness. Honest I don't....
Sure - I may look the other way when they take away my sugar, I might even look at my feet when they ban chocolately loveliness from the work vending machine; but when they take my caffeine..... IF they take my caffeine - well that's another story entirely buddy. Thats when the revolution will start my friends.
[Disclaimer: this post may have been written whilst under the influence of a sugar free caffeine product]
It doesn't surprise me that the music industry is hurting. You just have to take a look at who are running the RIANZ. These guys don't make music, they make money, and lately their stock is falling. So, guess what do the these type of guys do do when they see their cash cow slip though their oily grasp? They legislate. There is a young woman in spectacles and an orange wig dancing around her bedroom doing an out-of-tune spoof of the song "YMCA", complete with arm-waving and expletive-riddled lyrics. Nothing out of the ordinary there, then, because of course, this is YouTube.
The song is actually pretty funny, and decent satire.
It's called "DMCA", after the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the US law that enshrines some of the rules websites such as YouTube must abide by if they don't want to get sued by the owners of copyrighted material posted by their users.
Viacom has launched a $1bn claim for damages over all those copyrighted clips, 150,000 of them, watched over 1.5 billion times, according to its lawsuit.
The problem here is a distinct lack of innovation. Anyone who visits this site cant help but notice all the Youtube clips. Here I share my musical tastes with others. I broadcast my love of music to those who drop by, and if people who come here are interested in an artist, maybe they'll go out and buy a CD or two: except in increasing numbers - they don't.
More and more people are bypassing the CD shops at the mall in favour of iTunes or downloads from their mobile phones. You know it's time to get out of the music retail business when The Warehouse is New Zealands biggest physical seller of CD's, and the largest digital download source in New Zealand is Vodafone New Zealand. The final step in this mess has to be the eradication of the middle man, whose love of music seems not so much in its creation, but more with its destruction. The sooner artists bypass the recording companies, and fast track their music to digital downloaders, the sooner we wont have to worry about buying a platter of aluminium that costs up to $32 dollars - especially when that platter costs less than $2 to make and box. So in the end we lose and the artists lose. Support Youtube - advertise the music, share music with your friends, in the hope that it won't die out entirely on the world stage. By putting the music back into the hands of the fans, we can truly listen to what we want to, rather than to what's on some radio stations play list. And that's an innovation I'd love to champion.
I have sometimes been blessed in the ability to see bad relationships for what they are, and have ended ended them with good reason. I'm equally blessed, in that those I've dated have also had the same wisdom and ended relationships with me as well.:) The end seems to justify the means - and I reluctantly admit, looking back, I am a better person for the experience.
This song is a rare posting indeed - and I suspect it wont be around for long before it gets removed. Although it doesn't necessarily subscribe to my life accurately, some of it fits a little too close for comfort. Plus it's a nice bit of 80's cynicism :)
I'll never understand why on one hand I'm told I give good advice to others, yet I refuse to follow it myself. Would it kill me to look past the forest and the trees? This all wouldn't matter so much, if I didnt find myself asking the same questions year after year. Like, in this video clip, I always seem to ask myself, is this who I want to be?.... In a world where we choose our direction - are our decisions always the right ones for us?
This movie, I would die defending. Pleasantville is one classic flick.
If you have seen it, and wish to relive it again in 5 minutes click on the Youtube link below. For those of you who would prefer to watch the movie - spoiler free, avoid - please. You'll thank me for it later.
Not sure if it's Jennifer Garner in red leather, or the fact she's a kick arse assassin - OR she almost gets killed during a lesbian kiss. Perhaps it's all of the above. A guilty pleasure that doesn't bore with repeated viewings - honest!!
Oscar winner Hillary Swank (a heroines name if ever there was one) travels to the center of the earth in a ship made of a material that actually gets stronger with increasing pressure - in an almost futile attempt to restart the rotation of the earths molten core. Plus they get saved by whales dude! "All right, sweethearts, what are you waiting for? Breakfast in bed? Another glorious day in the corps! A day in the Marine Core is like a day on the farm. Every meal's a banquet! Every paycheck a fortune! Every formation a parade! I LOVE the Core!" - oops wrong movie :) 3) Cars
I kiddies film for sure - but I get that lump in my throat every time Lightning McQueen stops himself just short of winning - just to go back and push "The King" across the finish line, and by doing so giving up the piston cup for a more noble prize - sportsmanship.
4) Natural Born Killers This film polarizes people - I love what Oliver Stone is trying to say here. Sure it glorifies violence, but if you delve a little deeper it's a damning examination of the medias "If it bleeds it leads" mentally. Hate this film, and I believe you're missing a very important warning on where we are heading as a society. Plus they really regretted killing that Indian guy while they were high.
D.B Sweeney stars as a washed up ice hockey star who takes up figure skating with an impossible partner (Moira Kelly) in a bid to win an Olympic gold medal. Chosen here not only because of it's high cheese factor, but because the two actors in question met on this film and remain good friends to this day; proving once and for all what a sap I am.
Don't know where - don't know why, but it's missing.
Will add to this tomorrow, in the hope that a new episode of Battlestar Galactica, to be delivered on Friday, raises ones spirits somewhat. Lost are the words that propel me though the waters of seasonal affective disorder, delivering me onto the shores of disinterest, from the seas of complacency. Perhaps, just perhaps there is a resort and a bar tab. Tis a lot to ask for, but for today I am demanding it seems. As Picard said "make it so"
We ask them to travel to foreign shores, to kill for the greater good, only to deny them recognition and later hide information that impacts not only on them but their families. Later - we apologize, but it is enough, and can we ensure it never happens again?
At the Manurewa RSA, five not-so-old-soldiers gather around a table to explain why they are calling a truce. There is not a celebratory beer in sight.
Like 3500 other Vietnam veterans, they came home in the late 60s and early 70s to begin the war at home. They returned to a country which didn't want to know about Vietnam.
They were not welcomed back - unlike earlier conflicts, there were few parades before flag-waving crowds. Instead they were spat at, abused and punched by protesters who knew little of what they'd been through.
"We were ordered to march down Queen St and the public told us we were a bunch of arseholes," says Ken McKee Wright, a career soldier who spent six months in Vietnam in 1967.
They were left to fend for themselves by a system which didn't recognise post-traumatic stress. They were shunned by many RSAs because the Government had not declared war.
Then they started dying....
.....When Garry O'Neill went home to Christchurch he would walk home from Burnham base in battle dress with his ribbons on. One evening he was walking with a female friend whose brother had been wounded in combat when a woman came up and spat on him.
"I just recoiled but Devon took it to heart and dropped her."
Most soldiers resorted to changing into civilian clothes off base to avoid confrontation.
Early last year, O'Neill lost a daughter to breast cancer.
He remains dismayed at the narrow range of conditions, in veterans and their children, recognised as due to the chemicals absorbed in Vietnam.
Yet, he says: "Some positive things have been done. It's going in the right direction."
What hurts Zac Harris most is the denials. In the 1980s, veterans' children were being born with deformities including spina bifida and their parents were spending thousands on health care. Other veterans were dying young.
"At that time they were denying we were in the spray zone.
"The evidence was in Defence headquarters all along.
"I remember Helen Clark on TV saying I don't know what these Vietnam vets are groaning about - they all volunteered.
[Disclaimer - the person I am thinking about, doesn't visit here.]
Why is it, we're all so quick to take sides when it comes to people? Why do we take so little time to make our minds up about people when we meet them for the first time? OK - when we first meet people we can't help but form an opinion - I imagine that it's some kind of fight or flight complex - maybe from some junk DNA that still works, and by doing so, we make a stand on whether we trust them or not. The issue I have with all this is that this whole thing has evolved (or devolved) to a point where people dislike each other because of perceived misunderstandings; I don't like them because they did that, or said this. I just wish people looked beyond the superficial, and into the other persons heart. Are they a good person? Do they mean well? Socially, we're not all at the same place. Some people lack the niceties of polite society - sometimes they... hell, all of us .... can get it wrong. All I'm saying is, a closer look may be in order, before sending another lovely person to Coventry.
. . . or dreadfully entertaining I'm not sure which; maybe an equal blend of the two. But I stayed until the bitter end which is relatively unusual for me. Sometimes I feel shortchanged when half the movie is in slo-mo, but I was more than happy staring at Mark Wahlberg's ridiculous musculature. I started laughing shortly before Marky Mark whispers: "I'm not your son," and didn't stop until long after the credits rolled up the screen. "They killed my dawg" - too funny! Awesome! [Review by Writer Girl -Ed]
Because one doesn't get a second chance at the first impression, my first choice of DVD had to be perfect. The question is ... was Shooter the perfect DVD one could present Writer Girl and the Dubai Kid with?
In fairness I was in a difficult position. It was far too early in the "relationship" to take the more challenging titles. David Cronenburg's "Crash", and James Spader's "Secretary" could wait another day for an unveiling, if indeed at all. I wonder what a film about car crash eroticism and S&M would say about me as a person? Far too much at this early stage one muses. The romantic comedies were just as bad, and for exactly the same reasons they stayed at home as well.
Can you go wrong with action movies? I thought to myself, as I headed out to their house. To deny the brilliance of Shooter or Serenity could be in itself a huge faux pas - what if, in a brilliant move, I was actually taking the piss. Could you really rip either to shreds, when in actuality, you'd make yourself look silly in the process; after all Top Gun was actually a succinct exploration of the gay subculture in America in the 80's right? Exactly.
I arrived to find Writer girl making guacamole on the breakfast counter. Making guacamole ! Holy cow - I thought that that stuff came in plastic containers from the supermarket. Suitable impressed, I didn't have the heart to tell her I didn't like avocado, but shit, she'll never know - It will be our little secret - right? And as for their sound system - all previous memories of watching movies with subtitles at Brew King's place (so we didn't wake the kids), were well and truly erased in a blast that blew my man breasts out my back.
So what was it going to be ? Serenity or Shooter? Would either choice be the correct move - and in doing so would they finally see the subtle nuances behind my choices. Hold on a minute - were there actually any? SHIT!!!!
I needn't have worried, I really enjoyed the night. Writer girl and the Dubai kid laughed at all the right places, telling me that (a distinct lack of swearing from Writer girl aside) they were indeed kindred spirits. Now all I have to do is work out if they were laughing with me, or at me.
This Monday I could have done without. If there are two things I loathe, it's arrogance and a distinct lack of fair play.
On an interesting aside, I discovered I do not harbor any latent telekinesis; fortunate indeed for the arrogant prick in one of my Monday meetings ,whose head would have surely exploded half way through his ill informed and spiteful "dribbling on". Especially when he had no right to comment so negatively on something and someone he knew nothing about.
My disgust at this persons inane drivel, may have seeped out into the gaia-field, as other people present at the meeting came up to me afterward, commenting favorably on my restraint.
Restraint is well and good - but my sense of fair play dictates some kind of retribution. If there is one thing I know about being a Kiwi; it's mostly about lopping the heads off arrogant tall poppies. Well - most of the time it's just tall poppies in general - but in this case I'm happy to get specific.
I'd like to think we all have a special talent. Perhaps we'll never be a John Mayer, Edward Norton, or a Marla Olmstead - but does that really matter? There's no degree of talent to consider, just a measure of enjoyment.
I love music. From an early age I played the piano, but it never stuck. At high school I picked up the bass guitar and never looked back. In the early 80's I took up the guitar; initially I thought I was better than I was, perhaps now I've swung the other way; feelings of regression in the air. Regardless; music is a daily staple.
But as a younger man, music was an obsession. Now in some ways I've leveled out from that death spiral, although some days I'm forced to wonder if I'm on a slippery slope again.... I recently picked up the bass again - in one room of my house I have both bass and acoustic guitars . They always seem watch me when I walk past; calling me, imploring me to come and play.
Recently I spirited my Roland Synthesizer from Dunedin, and I am about to embark on a journey with a piano again. It's going to be a fiendishly difficult journey. I'll never be a Tori Amos, but I will be a me - and that's the most important thing to accept. Being the best you can be, doesn't invite a comparison, and I'm in no hurry to make one.
When you find yourself lying in your hotel bed after a week of little to no sleep it's a blessing when you find the bed to your liking. Stranger still, the moment when you discover the pillow is the right size and consistency. Dread follows when you slip under the cool, clean sheets, turn on to your side, and you start to slip into slumber. Dread because you realise, you could be slipping into a haiku moment. A minute later you realize that you've found the perfect position in a perfect bed with a perfect pillow. Too late - you're in the moment; a perfect sleep beacons. But why dread it? The sad thing is, in that moment of blissful happiness, you know there will almost certainly be an external force applied to ruin it all. And there it was - a dripping tap in the bathroom. I lay there, blissfully happy; warm and content, knowing that getting up to stop the damn faucet from its infernal drip would ruin it all. I waited as long as I could before dragging myself away from nirvana - knowing full well that tap had eventually done it's job, and ruined my moment in time. Afterward I went back to bed, slept like the dead - well at least until 4am when I leapt out of bed with a wicked cramp in my left calf. Shit - it hurt; dragged kicking from a deep sleep...
Ain't that just like life 'though? You have those moments of perfection, and although they're often fleeting, afterward there's almost always some pain to deal with. The secret is to recognize those moments of perfection for what they are. Cherish them. Like friends and lovers you may meet along the way to the here and now; haiku moments of perfection; comfort with pain - all this has happened before, and it will happen again. Life's a circle from the outside, when you take the time to look back in.
Character is what emerges from all the little things you were too busy to do yesterday, but did anyway. ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic's Notebook, 1966
Wouldn't it be boring if everything always went your way? You want something? - it's yours. Just like that. Unconditionally. Really - who would want that ? Is that really a life worth living?
Through our ups and downs we learn an important lesson. Not much good in this life comes easily, and the sweetest moments often taste all the more sweeter when you've known some sour.
It's the same here. My thoughts, and experiences, and resulting words wouldn't be nearly as interesting if all my life was a series of Pollyanna moments strung together with candy floss gossamer threads of joy. I make no apologies for what ends up here - the roller coaster goes up and down, but in the long run it's a ride well worth taking.*
*[Ten points to those who pick the not so subtle references to Parenthood, and Vanilla Sky in this post. Writers steal for a living - don't you ever forget it. ]
It's hard enough to find that someone special. People believe I'm fussy - When they invariably confront me, I always ask them if they chose second best when they picked their life partner. The answer is always the same, so why should my quest be any different? While I'm old enough to admit they we may be compatible with more than one person in this world, I'm looking to be with my soulmate, and therin lieth the problem. I wont go there unless theres a faint chance she likes dark chocolate and red wine, along with the intangible stuff of attraction; something that mere words cannot convey.
...and this week (drum roll), she must thinks this ever so slightly humorous.
My sister in law didn't like it - so I guess it passes the litmus test :)
There were three conversations going on in office at the same time. Different voices, different pitches, different timbres, different tempo's. I tried to focus on one, but in trying to, my concentration completely dissolved like an ice cube on a summers day. I found myself, shortly thereafter, staring into space; a moment of complete relaxation.
Office chatter; the chant of the working man, bringing enlightenment?
When you lose interest in lunch, then you know it’s time to seriously look at your lifestyle.
Today I took a slogan from Jacie’s blog. Simply printed on a sheet of A4 paper, it sits pride of place on my divider at work. “Sometimes you drink the milk, sometimes the milk drinks you.” I fully expect it will keep people at a safe distance – as well they should. My mum said a while back that I had the patience of Job. Those words have been marinating in my subconscious ever since. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s about context.
Take Sunday. I was waiting to be served for lunch. The lady customer front of me seemed totally engrossed in conversation with the serving girl behind the counter. Chatting away, she was (hopefully) oblivious to the people waiting. Just when you thought she would stop and move on, she’d delve into her large handbag, pull out her fluffy round purse and arrange to buy something additional for her lunch; all this while my blood sugar dipped and boiled at the same time. I, on the other hand pride myself on getting my lunch order down pat – A cheery hello, order, pay, thank you. I know what I want before I get to the counter, and I’m aware of my fellow shoppers waiting for their turn to order. After I ordered, I went to sit down to wait for my lunch, only to find the aforementioned lady was arranging the chairs in the coffee shop. “Don’t mind me”, she said. “I’m only moving the chairs around”. Perhaps this was supposed to be some kind of grand revelation designed in some way, to make me feel better: it didn’t. She was seriously ‘fucking with my Chi’. I said nothing – there was no point, she was apparently some kind of professional chair arranger, and I obviously had no understanding of her part to play in this world – to complain would obviously point to a problem with my ignorance of the situation.
I’m pretty big on etiquette. I was always brought up to say please and thank you. Just the other day I apologised to a checkout operator when my phone rang whilst paying my bill. I’ll always answer the call if it's urgent, but I always ask the caller to ring me back. You should say sorry, because face it, talking to someone on a phone when you have a real person in from of you is just plain rude.
Finally, take last week. Last Friday I arranged to go out for lunch with a someone. Just as the menus were delivered his phone rang. What followed was a 10 minute conversation that’s seemed to me, more like 5 years. Every time the conversation seemed to end, it would continue. Twice the waiter moved past our table, and seeing we were not ready, moved on to others. I can’t explain to you the extreme frustration I experienced while he was on the phone, yet I realised I was applying my own values to his situation. He was obviously an ignorant prick, and that just couldn’t be helped. Context had its part to play yet again.
When I see a young child play with a family pet I’m reminded how the animals always seem to cut the child slack, especially when they are toddlers – like the cat understands the kid doesn’t know the rules yet. Later, when the kid gets older the scratches start; the cat teaches the kid about boundaries. Just a pity we don’t allow Taser's in this country. The patience of Job be damned – I’d love to set some boundaries myself.
[Disclaimer: This post was written during a period of low blood sugar]
Is it just me, or does the universe seem a little smaller without Michael Hutchence in it? Erotic asphyxiation aside, the man was an amazing performer from the very start. Better to be remembered for our time in the world than our exit from it.
This song, from a much later INXS, would make a perfect wedding song. It would be my choice anyway.
Don't ask me What you know is true Don't have to tell you I love your precious heart
We’re a funny lot, we humans. Soon, some of us will be tuning in to the Olympics "machine" to watch stronger, faster, fitter people jump through hoops like performing seals. Personally I think the whole games thing is a freak show. Imagine what sort of a personality it takes to get to the top of your game. Then imagine how hard it must be then, for that over-drivenfreakazoid not to take performance enhancing drugs. My heart goes out to those honest guys who stay legit and don’t feel the need take that extra little step to drug fuelled excellence; they wont win, trust me. Now, years later with the benefit of better drug testing, we can go back and retest old test samples, only to find that some people had access to better drugs that masked detection at the time. They never seem to take the medals off them after they've been found out – perhaps because that's not in the spirit of “The Games”. [Note: Interestingly they do take them off you if it's political.] I think it’s time to admit to the hypocrisy, give up the testing, and allow the athletes to just “go for it”. Perhaps the more genetically unstable of us could grow another couple of legs to win the 100meters, but perhaps, more realistically, an orgy on Human Growth Hormones and EPO would do the trick quite nicely thank you. One ponders on what other drug marvels have already been developed, yet haven’t been implemented because of a fear of detection. I wonder, in years to come, if we could all live with the news reports that in this year’s Olympics only 2 people died of myocardial infarction in the 100m track finals; a small price to pay for progress perhaps. With the ever decreasing opportunities for records to be broken as the years go on, I’m sure the games committee will see the benefits in the viewer numbers going up if life and death were thrown into the mix. "86" the fancy swimwear, embrace the greatness you know you can be; grow a set of gills. In a final stroke of brilliance, we could just get the drug manufacturers to sponsor the athletes - imagine the endorsements - they should be on the gravy train for (albeit a short) life. So, short of reducing the size of a metre, or taking the timing up to another decimal point on the stopwatch, the Olympics are on the slippery road to mediocrity. It’s time to man up, and admit it. The drug cheats are ruining it for those who maintain the Olympic ideal, so we might as well embrace the drug technology. Until they do I won’t be tuning in – the hypocrisy of drugs aside, I could always site China’s horrific human rights record – but perhaps that isn't in the spirit of the games either….
Ok...now a list of 20 things your really glad you did? i'm intrieged!