Mixed Dates

I don't often talk about dates in this forum. Those who know me well could attest to my over zealous privacy when it comes to others in my life. I'm *very* old fashioned when it comes to this sort of thing - I don't even talk to my closest friends about my love life - in my mind there are only two people who should know - if you know what I mean.

Last night however didn't really count, because it wasn't that kind of date.

I picked her up at seven, previously explaining the plan was to go to my place, and grab a couple of takeout pizza's, watching some DVD's at home.
I should have known when she stepped into the car: she was dressed "to the nines", even wearing high healed shoes.

On the way to my place she asked what we were having for dinner - I explained we would go home, call up a pizza and relax on the couch to watch a DVD or two with a nice bottle of wine. "I don't like those sort of pizza's", she said, perturbed. I asked her what sort of pizza she liked, she responded "Authentic Pizza, From a real Italian Pizza place".

Right there and then I wanted to turn the car around, and take her home. Instead I mentally counted to ten. We went to a proper Italian restaurant, before heading home to watch a movie.

In the end, the evening went OK, even though it's fair to say alarm bells went off all night. Complaints over the wine glasses at the restaurant, coupled with issues with the manager over a mistake in the wine order didn't make for a relaxing evening. Fawning over my Television, asking if it was the latest model was the last straw.

She may be a stunning girl, but she can be stunning for someone else. The girl I love will have an inner light that touches everyone she passes - she'll be stunning in more ways than one - she wont give a care for the size of my television set, and will love the wine, and not the glass in comes in.

Part of knowing what you want, is knowing what you don't, I'm thinking.

Noiseworks

Sorry about the quick trip back to the 80's - You can blame Jacie

You had me at Hewn

Hewn is a lovely word; a word that conjures up images of hard work and beautiful outcomes. Not much is hewn these days. In a world of disposable items and standards you really have to search hard for your inspiration.
Part of what makes me me is a desire to bring things back from the edge of disrepair. I'm not alone here; many people restore furniture, cars, and motorcycles in an attempt to bring something old (and possibly unloved) back from the brink.
Within this ethos there often lies a belief that everything new isn't as good as what came before it. But this is not always the case.
Just last week I discovered that the most recent Apple Macbook's were hewn out of a solid block of aluminum. The reason for Apple doing this, (apart from the obvious sexiness),was the resulting increased tensile strength. Tensile strength aside; it's still a bloody sexy idea!
I am so in love with the idea of making something from a solid block of metal - a modern day corporate sculpture for those who appreciate the exercise.
Thank God there are still companies out there building quality non disposable products. One day thirty years from now - I wonder if some geeky twenty year old will dust off an old 2009 Macbook pro he found in his Dads garage and marvel at how they did things way back when people actually took pride in what they built.

And that's today we're taking about here people :)

Meanwhile, back in the more immediate future, my Raleigh Chopper build is reaching it's final stages. In a wild fit of recklessness I have thrown logic to the four winds and have replaced all the old imperial nuts and bolts with new stainless steel metric equivalents. One wonders if one will be struck down for such heresy; perhaps my saving grace being the extensive re-chroming work undertaken in the last week. I cant be certain, but I suspect that the bill for this rebuild, if spent wisely, would have purchased a pretty nice motorcycle from the late 80's.
I take a certain solace in the fact that that said motorcycle restoring would have probably cost me as much as a pretty neat 1966 American Ford "Pony" notch-back in original condition - and thus the cycle would have perpetuated ad nausium, culminating in night terrors with me waking up screaming "What the fuck am I doing! ". {1}

The one remaining question yet to be answered is what the hell I'm going to do with the bike when it's finished; given I'm not actually going to ride it .....kidding...... I hope.

I wish my laptop was hewn.
It isn't ....
But it is the next best thing, in it's aluminum skin.
And that, my friends,
Is the story of this lads life. :)

{1} I'm only saying this because I've been there before - and it's only now I realize all these years later - I haven't really learned a fucking thing.

The Kill

Apologies for the ongoing musical motif - It's been a bit of a long grind lately with some long hours at work. It's frustrating when the words only seem to come when I'm tucked up warm in bed, and not when I'm in front of my iMac.

I have an idea for a post I'm working on, but it's not really taking shape. Perhaps after tonight I can make some headway on it.

I have been listening to the following song of late. I only mention this because 1000km away the other day I found IG listening to it too - which is odd given its low airplay, and the fact I don't listen to commercial radio at all.

I'd like to say I was this bitter, but truth be told, although I can identify with the tone, right now this isn't exactly me. Enjoy...

I tried to be someone else
But nothing seemed to change
I know now, this is who I really am inside.
Finally found myself
Fighting for a chance.
I know now, this is who I really am.

Things that matter

Because it's always important to remember the small stuff, as well as the important days.

Starlight - Muse

We should all dance more



Even if you dance like me.

Repetition

Yeah - some might know I've posted this song before.



But it's almost like I don't listen most days.
Maybe if I hear it enough times? :)

The Youth of Today

This photo [1] speaks volumes.

This guy may accept a new toy every day; even a regular diaper change, not to mention our unequivocal love and attention.

But don't let that sly smile fool you. This guy, and his crew have a plan.

And it's not gunna be pretty come the revolution.

Forewarned is forearmed guys :)

[1] Photo from Mum

Man in the Mirror

After George Michael - I really didn't have a choice did I?

The changes that will make the most difference to our world
Will never be made by the few doing more
But by many, each playing a small part.

Off the hook.

After a hectic couple of months at work, a super secret long weekend away in Dunedin seemed like a good idea. A few hours after stepping off the plane I found myself driving down the Green Island Motorway, thinking how clean the windows on my Dad's car were. Upon reflection I believe it's just that the air down here that makes things seem a little sharper. You cant beat Dunedin in spring.

My trip was well timed. IG had recently banned his wife from reading my blog - because, he later admitted, my posts had been rather depressing of late. We agreed to disagree, especially around my whole "end of the world" posts a few weeks ago. I explained my concept of grabbing pizzas while waiting to get through the pearly gates - as there would be a bit of a crowd. He didn't buy it. His fix the walk, fix the man philosophy hard at work.

Like Di, IG must have thought that living and dropping off one by one would be preferable to dying at the same instant in time. Our family cat of 18 years is slowly dying. He was a fierce great loving beast of a cat, but when I come back at Christmas he wont be here. What's great about that? I wouldn't miss him so much if I wasn't here to miss him at all. That must make sense in some twisted way - right?

I suppose IG was just relieved that I was not visiting Dunedin to return everything I had borrowed from him over the years. [1]

[1] In his mind, this step being one of the first on the road to "ending it all"

Trips to Dunedin can have serious undertones it seems.
This is much removed from my shallow Auckland existence :)

When I moved to Auckland, I was introduced to a much younger social circle, and thus was thrust into many events I had already experienced previously in Dunedin. In Auckland there were still 21st's and weddings to be had, whilst in Dunedin many of my friends had already followed the path to domestic bliss: in short they were all old. :)
Conversely my trips back to Dunedin involve more grown up - adult situations. My friends kids are getting older (as are we all). The problems faced here seem somehow much more more serious than those I remember ten or fifteen years ago, with more far reaching consequences to boot. I find it odd to discover in the intervening six years I have become more cut and dried (perhaps more dried), and less flexible in more ways than one.
I'm not sure I don't mind it either - there's some comfort in being certain about stuff: even if you're completely wrong!

I think my biggest epiphany of all the weekend, is that the answers to all these issues don't lie in one particular life. There are no absolute truths - it's a matter of finding your own truth in your own space and time. And if your truths are different to mine - so be it. [2]

[2] Except if the "different" physic doing my Mum's "reading" on Thursday pops up the same "name" where I'm concerned once again; in which case, all bets are off.

So dont worry IG, you may receive all those DVDs after all.

Oh - and for those of you I've depressed, this should keep the tone of the post a little more balanced.....

Why we may be worthy

I saw this story linked to on Dooce.

If you ever wondered what we are here on the planet to do, this would have to be an excellent start. Stuff like this restores my faith in humanity.

I hope you have a lovely day.

Read this.

The Rocket Summer

This is a Colin Hay song.



but I think I prefer this version.

Chanelling Keith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sap Alert... must be about 3

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

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



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

False Advertising

I hate subversion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just what I needed to see on a Wednesday

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



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

One sentence

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

Simply Sarah

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

Stirring stuff indeed.

Atonement

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

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

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

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

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

Left field

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

Lyrics will not offend

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

Musical Cheers

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

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

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

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

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

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

That, and noticing if it changes.

Shut up and Sing

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

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

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

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

Among the technical benefits he stated...

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

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

Which of course it is - obviously.

Thanks for all the Fish

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

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

Time to forget

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

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

Consequences

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have; ever since.

5 Star Haiku

Ramsay stunned slience

Top Chef, Rachel Ray routed

Shaw cooks up a Storm

One sentence

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

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

like ;

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

or

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

Brilliant

Damien Rice - Cannonball

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

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

0101010101101101

0100100100100000011101110111001001101111011101000110010100100000
0110000100100000011011100110111101110100011001010010000001110100
0110111100100000011101000110111100100000011101000110100001100101
0010000001110111011011110111001001101100011001000010000001101001
0110111000100000011000100110100101101110011000010111001001111001
0010000001110011011000010111100101101001011011100110011100100000
0100100100100000011101000110100001101111011101010110011101101000
0111010000100000010010010010000001101100011011110111011001100101
0110010000100000011010000110010101110010001011100010000001010011
0110100001100101011000000110010000100000011011100110010101110110
0110010101110010001000000110011101100101011101000010000001101001
0111010000101110

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

The Ted'ness of it all

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

Horseless clothing

I remember, many years ago, when a friend and I were looking at a movie poster of Sarah Jessica Parker.
SJP, to this day, has an uncanny ability to look different in almost every shot. In this particular photograph (you have to trust me) she looked amazing in side a profile, dressed in an over-sized wo0llen jumper with torn blue jeans. My friend then made a comment that shocked me to the core - he said "She's hot - pity about the ripped jeans tho eh".

Shocking, because to me, the torn jeans made the shot; made it real in some way.

Although I can scrub up well when the occasion demands, those who know me, know I care little for expensive taste in clothes. I've never been comfortable with collars; I'm a jeans, sneakers, and t-shirt kinda guy. I'm wondering, after all these years, if I've been hiding something.

This all came about after I read yesterday that Tim Gunn (who's taste in clothes I actually admire) recently released a tirade against a number of celebrities, saying they hide behind their choices in clothes. Jennifer Aniston in particular, being exposed as "desperate" by Gunn. *1

What a sad state of affairs - we are now not only judged by our looks, pay packet, and occupation. We have our clothes to be judged by as well. This actually explains a lot :)
An awful lot....

I will never be mistaken for something I'm not.
I may never be seen as someone with style.

Just shoot me - I love the natural beauty that comes from not being judged. To been seen complete. To me, sexy is a girl in a white t-shirt, demin jeans and sneakers, laughing and smiling over a cup of coffee. It's not too late ; if you run now, you wont catch my disease.

Run Forest Run. Before it's too late.....


*1 TEAM JOLIE!!!

Absence

If I don't say this now I will surely break
As I'm leaving the one I want to take
Forgive the urgency but hurry up and wait
My heart has started to separate

Reinventing the Wheel

John Mayer may not be Stevie Ray Vaughn, but he's bringing blues to an entirely new audience.
This clip shows Mayer playing "Empty Arms" with Stevie's old band "Double Trouble". Although John lacks the intensity of Stevie's style, the guy has an amazing talent.



When I watch stuff like this I wonder why I ever pick up the guitar at all - then I remember the sheer creative joy playing an instrument can bring, happily accepting what talent I can muster.

Goats Rock

It seems bewildering sometimes.
How I hold on to the old truths like they were gospel.
Along with the rest, I often struggle with the ones like;
Good things come to those who wait, or
The meek will inherit the earth.

Obviously it's all a load of old tripe - AS IF leading a good patient life will reward you in some magical way; and it's not like the meek need reined in anyway.

I mean if all these sayings were true, only worthy people would win the lottery. So it turns out all these years, it turns out I'm simply unworthy. If I was just a little bit nicer - if I just learned that elusive lesson life is trying to teach me before paying out in style.


Sure, maybe it's just an odds game after all.
Do I really believe in luck, or is it her more cynical cousin probability? Perhaps winning is for people who simply buy more tickets or sacrifice chickens under a full moon [1] .

Face it; these truths were put on this planet to hold us like sheep surrounded by electric fences; get too close to the edges of your polite boundaries, and you'll pay with some metaphoric shock to the system.

Goats on the other hand, are always looking to escape - they don't think the grass is greener, they KNOW it is. They constantly test the electric fence; and if it's ever left off, they're gone.

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the sheep the electric fences are always on.

Or something like that.

[1] although more than two if last weeks results are anything to go by :)

Work Dreams

So; I'm involved in a aftermath of a disaster. Although getting everything operational again might require some serious thinking, I'm pretty confident I can rig something together to get it all working.

My contractors have (once again) made a complete hash of everything, so sure, it's going to take some serious work to undo their efforts first. The more I work on the problem - the simpler the solution becomes; I start to ask myself leading questions.

I wake in a tangle of blankets and swear words. For a micro second I realize it's been all a horrible dream. My anxiety ebbs until I suddenly comprehend that in reality, the situation is probably much worse.

Spending a Saturday morning curled up in the fetal position in ones bed is not the start to the day that one might have wished for. I will buy two Lotto tickets today; maybe three.

Monday will come soon enough; wanted or not.

Angry Friday

No idea why - just is...

Pavlov's Phone

This isn't exactly an unhappy post.
It's almost about a lack of control.
And pointing out that no matter how much we try
We can never get away
From one on thing we always take on holidays;
Ourselves.

Something I've finally managed to do over the last two weeks, is to bump calls from work.
Yeah - I'll admit it, In the past I've been guilty of getting involved in some serious work shit while on leave: No longer. I have downloaded the upgrades - I am MarkJ v2.02beta1. [1]

One of the down sides to working for a major corporate, is that no one misses you when you're gone - because they simply assume you're still there: I am so not there today.

It didn't start out that easily.
Initially, incoming calls were afforded a Pavlovian wrenching avoidance. I will not answer.
Let...it...go....to...voice mail....

A few days later I would politely (immediately) bump the call - so as to perpetuate the myth that my phone was off whilst on leave. No hurt- no foul.

A mere two weeks later I have resorted to bumping after a couple of rings - to let "them" know they have well and truly been bumped; Do not pass GO - Do not collect $200. I'm on fucking leave. What do you not understand about that?

Obviously I could turn off my phone.
Obviously.

But that would be admitting to some sort of defeat. Plus my morbid fascination around who would call next/or attempt to call me AGAIN seemed to get the better of me as the week wore on. Come Monday I will again be forced to answer, but for the next few days I will have utter power of dominion - to bump or not to bump?

[cue maniacal laughter].

Except for you - I would never bump you.
If you don't believe me, just call.
If it rings twice before transferring to voice mall - I'm just fucking with you.
Honest :)

Just call me back.

I dare you :)



[1] results not typical

If someone finds me Dead

Blame this person

Especially after this post. :)
Although the photo is from 1979, the sulky "smile" can still be seen today, although probably never here.

Got a feeling payback is going to hurt :)

[Update - posted a lower res version of the pic - as was the custom of the day]

The smallest things

Sometimes it can be hard to find your place in this world.
Some days it feels that you simply don't belong at all.
Occasionally you get pulled along in the jobs that you do; so at the end of that day, your life has simply become a list of things to accomplish.
Another day, you can be sitting with friends, and for some unknown reason, one of them will rest their head on your shoulder. And as you move your head to touch theirs you instinctively realize how rare these moments can be; and how much we can still appreciate being loved for who we are.

Then comes the realization that that intimacy never happens as often as you'd like.
But you were expecting me to say that - right?

No cadavers

Its the same thing night on night
Whos wrong baby whos right
Another fight and I slam the door on
Another battle in our dirty little war
When I look at myself I dont see
The man I wanted to be
Somewhere along the line I slipped off track
Im caught movin one step up and two steps back

Connections

To the connections made, lost, and hopefully reestablished throughout the years.



I really have to see Springsteen one day...

Keep it under your hat

Freezing in my sleeping bag, I had my iPod on shuffle when I came across this song.



I hate the idea that this song resonates with me so much. It cant be just me - right?

Damn you Dixie Chicks - stop reading my mind :)

Tell me now if you came sneaking up behind
Would you know me and see behind the smile
I can change like colors on a wall
Hoping no one else will find what lies beneath it all
I think I hide it all so well

The Majesty

The seasons abound.

Beer - Breakfast of Champions

The morning brought with it the promise of another excellent day at Coronet Peak, and for the most part it delivered. But what the day also couriered in late afternoon, was one excellent snowstorm. Around 3:15 I headed up the Coronet Peak chairlift with IG and Matt. The snow and ice was driving horizontally across our faces; Ian had his face covered by a balaclava, but Matt and I held our heads in and our hands while the wind did its best to apply its own unique facial scrub.

What was to be my last run of the day was almost what you'd call a whiteout. You couldn't see the terrain changes - before you knew it you'd be right on top of a mogul, or off piste. Half way down the M1 trail I came across a medical party putting some girls right leg in a splint.
Right there and then I decided that it was a good time to stop for the day: IG and Matt went up again. The story of that lift ride was one of even more discomfort; frankly I thought they were both nuts.

Around 4pm we decided to pack up and head down the hill; by this stage the snow was falling heavily and we were beginning to wonder if we shouldn't have left earlier. We decided against chains; although it looked marginal we knew that the snow would probably peter out before we traveled too far down the mountain: we were sorely mistaken; it was still snowing heavily at the bottom, and on through to Queenstown.

View from the top carpark, down the mountain

We were about to experience something magical; snow to lake level.

Snow at the Shotover Bridge.

The downside of this majestic event, was our inability to get to our rented accommodation - we were well and truly snowed in. Parking the Merc in a near by camping ground we tramped through the snow to our house: you guessed it - the power was out.

Basecamp - the Merc abandoned, our house in the distant mist

So complete with wet shoes and socks, we did the only thing we could; we trudged off to the nearest pub for a beer and a steak.

Turns out the day knew what it was up to all along.

The Art of Doing Nothing

We sat about this morning deciding what to do with our day.

"We could go skiing", said IG.
"What about Quad biking?" , I ventured.
"We could always do nothing", Matt responded.

We stood dumbfounded - what a profoundly brilliant idea!
So today was all about doing nothing.

You may think that this would be an easy thing to do once on holiday - but in the past we've always been sidetracked by those who feel we should always be doing something worthwhile.
Not today - Fuck no.
Those influences have been well and truly expunged. We asserted our manhood by doing absolutely nothing, and it was grand!

I wonder if what our modern (read sick) society needs, is simply more days of doing nothing. I think we could be on to something here. :)
If we could just get those who would have us do more, do less, we all might be better off.

Who am I fooling - they'd never let it happen.

Another day at the Office

Turns out I sucked at skiing today.
Gone, it seems, the zen skier of two years past; but when the office looks like this, you cant really complain too much about minor stuff - like not being able to move off the couch this evening.


The pain... the pain...

Road Trip

One can never misunderestimate the benefits of a road trip. :)


And we're off to Queenstown in a 1978 450SE Mercedes .
There will be Vodka's, JD's, and salty treats, along with numerous new episodes of Top Gear to watch.

Who needs the Olympics when they don't even cover burping and farting.

Skiing tomorrow one suspects, depending on the hangovers - obviously.

Easy silence

I've been taking a lot in lately. I've been listening to what others say, and as a result I've come to see how stunted my life has been of late. Rest assured - this isn't something people have actually been telling me. I've come to this conclusion through situational osmosis; it's so true you learn the most when you say nothing at all.

Unfortunately, if winning this "game" called life was a simple case of having a few select cool toy's I'd be up there in the running. Although I'm not interested in that race, there's always the worry that it's the only event I can enter into these days.

I'm on leave for two weeks now; I'm a little burnt out, and I'm using the opportunity to take the phone off the hook "big time". I really need to take this time to recharge.

I've been drawn to this song over the last few days. I'm beginning to really miss that easy silence - if you know what I mean.

The Bangles

Yeah - I know - the video clips are boring.



I cant help but wonder what this would sound like (really loud) on a decent stereo.
I also wonder if will magically transport me back to 1987 for 2 minutes and 45 seconds.
Off to iTunes for a look-see :)

Hey it could be worse - I could have picked Eternal Flame....

Trite but true

By three methods we may learn wisdom:
first, by reflection, which is noblest;
second, by imitation, which is easiest;
and third by experience, which is the bitterest.

Coffee shop psychology to be sure - but it begs the question - How do you learn best?

Cycle of Madness

I stand in awe.

The mindset of the long distance cyclist.
Someone who thinks nothing of riding 40 kilometers
to visit a library on a rainy day.
Einstein said nothing gave him more faith in the future of the human race
than someone riding a bicycle.
But 40 kilometers in inclement weather ?
That mindset...
I mean ....It gives me pause.
Surely that sort of conviction
merits at least
a psych exam :)

But like I said, I stand in awe.

Shaken, not stirred

...as if one million souls cried out in
torment and were suddenly silenced...

I had the most bizarre experience yesterday.
In the middle of the mall around 2pm, I was overcome by what I can only imagine was a feeling of extreme grief and sadness.
Although the feeling ebbed as the day passed, I can tell you one thing - it really, really freaked me out.
It was as if I connected with someone or something else, and for this "by the numbers" kid, I can assure you there's no fitting that particular square peg in this round hole.
Whatever the reason, I hope it wasn't up to me to delve deeper and phone everyone I know to see all was well with them. That would be admitting to a type of crazy I've yet to identify with, although some might think differently....

Brooke Fraser.

Just a reminder of how beautiful music can really be... and it doesn't have to be about God.

Walking,stumbling on these shadowfeet
toward home,a land that i've never seen
I am changing: less and less asleep
made of different stuff than when i began
and i have sensed it all along
fast approaching is the day.

~Brooke Fraser

Cycle of Cool

I am so uncool.

That's only OK because, for the most part, we're all uncool.

Fortunately, how we are perceived is partially sculpted by the way we project ourselves to others. Hopefully this doesn't involve any of the "inner crazy" some of us struggle to suppress.

Unfortunately, the more you let your guard down and the more you say, the greater the chance someone else will find out how uncool you truly are.

So; given that you are indeed uncool, and those you trust know it (and they don't give a damn); that just makes them extra cool - right? *1

The only true currency in this bankrupt world... is what you share with someone else when you're uncool (Lester Bangs - character from Almost Famous)


*1 And then there is always a possibility that one day someone will see your signed Battlestar Galactica cast photo....and the cycle starts all over again :)

Love this Song

Although the song doesn't really gell with any particular time of my life (I hasten to add), the girl in green at 2:15 is stunning, as is the song.

Thinking how it used to be
Does she still remember times like these?
To think of us again?
And I do.

Love of the Game

I didn't even watch the All Blacks play Australia last night.

Truth be told I was called into work to supervise contractors working during the latest weather bomb to hit Northland. Around 2am I pulled up the NZHerald website to check the score, only to find we had lost. For once my heart didn't die a little. That's when I realised I may be well and truly be over Rugby; at least at the professional level.

For me, I now believe the only real Rugby is being played at club and provincial levels.
Titanic games played between regions; played during the day, not bowing to Northern Hemisphere television requirements, saying no to playing during cold winter nights. Many battles raged between Canterbury and Otago rugby teams, creating a healthy rivalry between the fans. That's the Rugby I love - but does it still exist today?

I recall a game where our local team beat the touring South African Springboks.
I was there at an NPC final where we beat Waikato in the final. What a day that was!
I remember standing on the terraces at Carisbrook with my friends. Chatting away, catching up - yelling Ottttaaaaagggooooo until my voice was hoarse - we made a difference some days I think.
Not too long later I remember walking around the London Underground in my Otago jersey when some lone soul at the other end of the platform let out the Otago chant. For a moment in time I was home again...all those miles covered in a millisecond.

I recall the players on that Otago team working in our community; you could see them behind business they'd own, or surfing at the local beach. You could say hello to the Otago and All Black player Jeff Wilson, as he poured you a beer at Umbrellos Bar - you might see captain Tane Randell at the Meridian Mall checking up on his businesses there. The players were a part of the community.

Sure - Tane wasn't a local lad. In fact not a lot of the guys back then were. Most of the Otago players initially played for the Otago University Team while they were away from their home provinces getting their University degrees (some even getting double degrees). Regardless of where they came from, they were our team, and a part of the Dunedin family.

Professionalism changed the face of Rugby in New Zealand. I don't believe as a nation, that we've ever recovered from the shock. Now kids with talent are picked out of schools and thrown into All Black development squads; some only to be left packing shelves in supermarkets when their playing days are done. And as for the black jersey? Where once it was won through fierce pride and determination, now in the most part it is probably expected as an end goal in a progression of Rugby development.

Something smells bad in this once-land of Rugby; but unfortunately it may be a smell we must learn to deal with. Those that control rugby seem to care little for the grass roots game, instead following the lure of sponsorship money wherever it takes them. They in turn nurture a new breed of fan who, very possibly, has never known anything but an All Black team wearing an Adidas uniform selling Steinlager. Sure - the new fans may love the game as well, but I wonder if a greater enjoyment of the game may have been long lost to them since the days of a paycheck. Frankly I doubt they would even care, wondering what the hell I was talking about.


But oh - if they were at the Carisbrook in 1998 they would know what real atmosphere was; it was as if we were all together greater than the sum of our individual parts - electrifying to experience. I was glad I was there to be a part of it.

Microsoft is Dead

You can kill a head right? Anyone can kill a head.

Well actually, someone else actually pointed this out about a year ago, so I cant take credit for the headline.

At this point I must mention my love of all things i and Apple-ey, and I wont even mention my recent epic struggle with a friends Vista build. The memory is too painful still. Oh the horror...

So, I'll just cut and paste some bits - because this guy Paul Graham writes it better than I ever could...

What killed them? Four things, I think, all of them occurring simultaneously in the mid 2000s.

The most obvious is Google. There can only be one big man in town, and they're clearly it. Google is the most dangerous company now by far, in both the good and bad senses of the word. Microsoft can at best limp along afterward.

Microsoft saw the danger of Javascript and tried to keep it broken for as long as they could. [1] But eventually the open source world won, by producing Javascript libraries that grew over the brokenness of Explorer the way a tree grows over barbed wire.

Microsoft's biggest weakness is that they still don't realize how much they suck. They still think they can write software in house. Maybe they can, by the standards of the desktop world. But that world ended a few years ago.

You heard it here last folks...

Whale Oil Beef Hooked

I’m not good with being bad. My first recollection of doing something bad in the world outside my home happened when I was about 5 or 6 years old.
My primary school was a small country affair, with less than 300 pupils. Every year we would have a sports day, and for lunch all the parents would all bring a plate of food for those who participated. I knew my Mum brought along coconut ice slice, and I showed my 4 year old brother where it was on the table. While we were hungrily admiring the cake we both decided to take a slice - after all it was our Mum’s cake and therefore, by some strange twisted five year olds logic, OK to take. At that very second my 1st grade teacher Mrs Noll yelled out from afar “Jennifer Aniston [*1], what do you think you’re doing?”.
Well... I grabbed Paul and we both took off. Mum and Dad found us hours later hiding in our play hut, under the pine trees at the end of our section. Nothing was said about the cake incident, I guess the trauma was plain to see.

Years, or perhaps what feels like Eon’s later, I still hate being caught out. I remember how my clean slate was sullied, and I really hate that someone can still make me feel that way today. Maybe because of that moment, I’ve lived a pretty tame existence? Perhaps, if I was more of a shit growing up, this feeling would have disappeared by now; maybe I wouldn’t feel so bad about being permanently suspended from You Tube.

Yep - It’s a bit of a stretch from the post traumatic stress inducing “cake incident”, but my ejection from the famous video hosting site, handed down yesterday for posting that 1 minute 40 second clip of Stargate SG1, imparted a similar feeling of woe; well through to at least morning tea.

It seemed that I pissed off MGM.

You know, If you think about that a bit, you could really start to worry; but hastily moving along, I was asked via email to remove the “offending transgression”.
OK - The geeky traumatized 5 year old cake thief in me promptly tried to log on to delete the clip, only to find my account had been permanently blocked. Like the cake incident I could not undo the wrong I had inflicted - I had been given my scarlet letter, and on me it was to be well and truly stuck.

I was, actually, in point of truth, in the wrong, and totally screwed.

After morning tea I got angry. As if 1 minute and 40 seconds of video really mattered. I mean, it wasn’t even porn!
I was angry because I was trying to illustrate a point with that bloody video - and it wasn't about how tricky it was to create the clip either (which it fucking well was, by the way).
These corporate bully boy laywers have recently taken on You Tube, so I don’t blame them per say for ejecting me, but i think it’s slightly hypocritical when you think of all the other Stargate clips (and other stuff) that is still there now. Why pick on me?

I cant help but wonder just how long You Tube would be in existence if they removed every last vestige of copyrighted material from their servers?

Imagine it....

We’d be logging in to watch crappy home movies of people we didn’t know, doing things we didn’t want to see, in places we never intended going. What a sad bunch of arses we’d be watching that Trifecta.

As my old mate [*2] Dylan Thomas used to say..

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.


I would have said it with more brevity, and a lot less tact.
Fuck the fuckers - and that's all I'll say about that.



[*1] Not my real name.
[*2] Didn't know the man.

Muppets

Usually a term to describe some of my contractors at work, everyone has a favorite muppet.

Music will never be the same again. Beaker is obviously my fave, and now he has a Youtube channel. :)

Epitaph

Paul Holmes interview with friend and workmate Tony Veitch is here in full.

I never really understood Paul's popularity as a broadcaster.
I've often disagreed with his opinion.
But not today.

Those of us who know Tony Veitch and have worked with him are in shock at how quickly a man who seemed to have it all can lose almost everything in less than a fortnight. He has lost not just his income. He has lost his name. The fall of Tony Veitch is a genuine modern tragedy....

...But this has been a carefully orchestrated plan to end a career and the life a man has built. A valuable broadcasting performer has been taken out of two prime broadcasting slots, the Radio Sport Breakfast Show and One News. Instead of us seeing justice, we may have been seeing revenge. Instead of journalism, we may have seen commerce.

...As early as Wednesday afternoon, I think, Veitch knew he was done for and could not survive. Early on Thursday afternoon, he rang me to say his statement of resignation was being issued. Then at 5.30pm the police announced the formal complaint against him. It is a terrible prospect for Veitch and his former partner. I imagine the process that lies ahead and the thought of how it may end. But at least now it is formalised, at least it is now within the system. Now the investigation will become rational.

Tony, I wish you all the best for the future. May you and your ex partner find the help and support you both need to move on in life. Time to heal I think.

Required : One Mega Stereo System

Partially inspired by Niamh's post this is classic Talking Heads.
Volume and Bass to 11 people!!!!

Another week that was

You have to love a short week.

Although I had to be up early on Thursday morning, by lunchtime I found myself chilling with friends in Nelson. Any thoughts of a "business as usual" week went out the door immediately - a mere four days later I feel proud to have included more than my fair share of NZ red and white wines amongst the numerous cafes I've visited. Last night Ang and I undertook a yearly tradition of cooking for the Nelson crew; yet again it was deemed a roaring success (i.e no reports of food poisoning yet).
I love spending time with Angela. Unlike some other friendships that started circa 1983, we seemed to have grown together and not apart over the intervening years. Having so much history can provide for more than a few cringey moments; especially when we remember who we were at 16 or 17 years old. In fact it's almost a challenge to outcringe each other with our stories once we get going - especially when alcohol is found near. It helps to have a good memory, although there are many utterances of "I'm sorry - I have no recollection of that" when the stories get a little too close for comfort :)

This post finds me siting in the Wellington air terminal, due in a no small part to a strike by some Air New Zealand crew. At this stage my connecting flight to Auckland is still on, but a potential adventure awaits - and my laptop battery is getting low.

Could be a long day yet !

Who watches the watchers.

For the longest time I have tried to avoid as much daily news as possible. Apart from the depressing version of life that is presented to the masses on an hourly basis, I see a more hideous agenda at play; that of the media becoming our moral compass.

Some years ago I made a decision not to watch the television news, and I have been much happier since.
Basically I believe it's mostly bollocks. Any time I personally have been involved in some news story I have been dismayed over the inaccuracies of the reporting. I once even rewrote an article for a reporter to clear up some issues over technical accuracy - the editor changed it back saying the original draft made better copy. I challenge you - next time you listen to the news, look for reporter bias - and listen what they are trying to make YOU believe.

Sure, as humans we cant help but have opinions. The problem I see with most (if not all) media, is a lack of balance. So many journalists now seem to be pushing their own personal agendas along with their stories. This I wouldn't have a problem with if the reporter said "I believe..." or "I think..." . But they don't.
They always seem to speak opinion as fact - and often they are just plain wrong.

I wonder sometimes if we can actually have news without opinion. Perhaps not. Even so I would prefer a report that served up the facts, and an item that didn't attempt to make our minds up for us. Perhaps that type of reporting no longer exists, because what a TV or Radio station report now simply reflects the bias of their owners. At least FOX News in the USA is honest enough to not hide this behind this fact.
In the years ahead I cant help but wonder if people will simply choose to tune into the news bias "they" want to hear. Moral compass indeed.

A local example of an issue that has been fucking me off lately, is the Tony Veitch affair.
I refuse point blank to justify domestic violence in any shape or form, but the way the media have continued to report this incident has been atrocious.
Encouraging opinions from the public, when the all the facts are unknown is ,at best, trial by media. Interviewing social commentators, who are simply pushing their own platforms is ethically bankrupt. Just today - the New Zealand Herald reported further information from "a source that does not want to be named". This person or persons unknown revealed more inflammatory information to the public on this matter. There is no proof supplied stating this information is correct, the anonymity ensures there is no right of rebuttal.

Frankly it stinks to high heaven.

This is a matter for the Police to pursue privately after detailed discussions with both parties involved. Emotions may have paid a large part in the attack, but for justice to be done here the facts of the case must be investigated by those with a vested interest in the truth, not special interests or audience numbers.
One can but wonder how far this reporting will go on. I would hope that eventually someone would offer both parties the help they require to move on with their lives. Mr Veitch obviously has a long road ahead of him. What he has done is very wrong. I just wonder if the New Zealand public can get off their high horse long enough to offer their heartfelt assistance to those perpetuating, and being impacted by, domestic violence.

I do however, have some searching questions about Mr Veitch..

Do you believe you can find it in your heart to forgive?
Must someone be destroyed completely to be redeemed?
Can he ever make amends for what he has done?

I just hope your answers don't depend on what TV news you subscribe to.

Battlestar Zen

Leoben Conoy to Kara: What is the most basic article of faith? This is not all that we are. See, the difference between you and me is, I know what that means and you don't. I know that I'm more than this body, more than this consciousness. A part of me swims in the stream, but in truth, I'm standing o­n the shore. The current never takes me downstream.