Apologies

Pity the fool who writes about me!

Sometimes I reference real people in this blog directly.
IG appears from time to time, and is usually addressed as such.
So if I was to say that IG once uttered the following pick-up line to a beautiful Ski- bunny, whilst extremely drunk in a posh Queenstown Bar;

"Heeeelllllooooo.....(long pause)..... do you ski?"
"Yes" - said ski-bunny replied (in awe that he could still talk, one imagines)
"Uphill?", IG asked inquisitively.... (which of course is an absolutely brilliant next line in my opinion).

then you know that it was indeed IG that said those words.

But when I mention "Pasta in the Pot" - I did not in anyway infer or imply that the poem was about IG.
In fact - I'm surprised that you could think such a thing.
No wonder IG was so outraged, when I talked to him in the weekend.

So IG, to thee I offer this apology.

Dearest IG,

For this slight upon your fine character, I hereby resolve to let you win the first three pool games at the Pool House Cafe, when I am next down in Dunedin pontificating on my Uncleship.
You know how hard this will be for me....
As I am a pool god, and you are mostly not :)

Looking forward to visiting soon - much cruising in the Merc, one suspects!!!

MJ.

Sorry Miss Chisman

No regrets?

Writing whilst drunk can be a curse. Often upon a second reading, clear of the fog of red wine, memories of writing something with brilliant clarity can on reflection, seem like mindless dross, or worse a self righteous or self pitying mess. aka.... Imagine if Cat was spelt D O G.... whoa....
Catching up with NFG the other day, she happened to mention she has a few of my poems that should be published. Fonmeister has threatened to do the same thing - maybe I should get all my poetry together, under some publishing guise, only to quickly burn the lot when no one was looking. It's fair to say once written, I often forget what I've put down on paper. Most is related to a specific event - like a flatmate who always left pasta in a pot - or another flatmate who kept us awake all night typing on a manual typewriter. I might ask NFG to see what she has been saving - but potentially I could die of embarrassment. If you were to show me the stuff I wrote years later I would most likely not recognise it - or even the person who wrote it. Anyway - what follows is something small I wrote after a couple of bottles of red some time ago. Much like driving, you really shouldn't drink and write;

When the mood takes you, writing can be a breeze, but where that writing takes you may often be an uncomfortable place.
They say you shouldn't have regrets, either from action or inaction. They also say you should move on - not wallow in past of regrets - just learn, and move on.

I wonder if bad memories of the past are are ghosts you should exorcise, own up to...
By admitting your regrets, you could eventually forgive yourself
Alternatively, perhaps these regrets are something we should accept as making us who we are, and live with it.
Should we forgive ourselves?
Do we have that right?

For today I'll freely admit to fucking up, potentially causing others grief. There are times I would love to go back and undo some things, but what's done is done, and more importantly - if i hadn't made those mistakes I wouldn't be where I am now - physically and emotionally.

So to anyone I've hurt, I'm sorry. My regrets are a daily reminder of the burden I'd like to let go of - I'm just certain how to yet. Perhaps in some way this is a first step.

I want this kiss

So much said without words. I love it.
Maybe this doesn't ever happen in real life : but it should.
People should allow themselves to be more vulnerable with each other.

Polley on my mind

Amazing to photograph I'd imagine

Trolling through my DVD collection the other day, I realised I was torn between watching Dawn of the Dead and Go. Initially I just couldn't work out why i was attracted to both these films at the same time - later I realised that subconsciously I must have been thinking about Sarah Polley, who just happens to appear in both films.

I've always had a thing for female character actors. Obviously my love of all things Mary Stuart Masterson aside - I would like to point out I am not entirely myopic when it comes to female actors. I also like Christina Ricci - so there!

A good bio for Sarah can be found here. I'll steal some more interesting quotes from this source.

Sarah Polley is an actress and director renowned in her native Canada for her political activism. Blessed with an extremely expressive face that enables directors to minimize dialog due to her uncanny ability to suggest a character's thoughts, Polley has become a favorite of critics for her sensitive portraits of wounded and conflicted young women in independent films....

She has said that her choice of film roles, eschewing mainstream Hollywood movies for chancier, non-commercial independent fare, was the result of an ethical decision on her part to make films with social importance....

Polley is as renowned for her intelligence as for her remarkable talent. The problem of the intelligent person in the acting field is that the actor, as artist, in not ultimately in control of their medium, and it is artistic control that is the hallmark of the great artist. The controlling intelligence on a movie set is the director, and her attendance at the Canadian Film Centre has given her a new perspective on acting. The actor, she says, should not try to give a complete performance for the camera (that is, control the representation on film) but must remember that the function of the actor is to give the director as much coverage as possible as a film, as well as a performance, is made in the editing room.

Find her at your local DVD rental store - she's a gem.

NZ Music Month Part 2

Esse Quam Videri?

So who are you really ?

Lately I've begun to think that a lot of people out there, are basically full of shit.
My old school motto was Esse Quam Videri, which loosely translated means "To be, is better than to seem to be"
When I was, say, 17, I thought that this was a great motto - and that what was really inside, who you really were, would shine on through everything else, no matter how shitty things got: Except it didn't.
I think it's fair to say the High School was as superficial as it gets. Or so I thought. In actuality the "real world" is far more so.
After leaving the hallowed halls of High School, I noted that few people were really interested in the inner me, or the inner anyone else for that matter.
The weird thing is the length of time it's taken me to work out something I've obviously known a very long time.

The lesson I've learnt just recently is;

You are not who you are inside - you are what you project.

I guess I've always been interested in what drives people, and their actions. I always thought that my superiors (in work hierarchy only) actually knew what they were doing, and that I could never do their job. More recently I see that those idiotic speeches and management moves weren't so much from a book of sound business plays, but from a genuine misunderstanding of the job they have to do: I was mortified.

So don't worry - No matter how much of a mess you are on the inside, if you project something different - chances are people will accept you for who you want to be, because in a superficial world "What seems to be, seems to be".
Of course you still have to accept who you are - but at least we can keep that a secret - right? RIGHT?

[And because I didn't want to end this post in a negative manner]

And for those of us who want to try a walk on the wild side? We can simply project our inner selves and damn the consequences - knowing that regardless of either decision, people will still accept us. Now isn't that a scarey thought.... :)

Seven days early

Congratulations to Stacey and Scot on the birth of their son Cole.
Mum and baby are doing fine, and surprisingly, so is Dad.
What can I say? I'm finally a real uncle!

Randomness of things

The Author herself

I grabbed a random Xfiles DVD tonight.
These were the first words spoken by Gillian Anderson.

Time passes in moments:
moments, in which rushing past,
define the path of a life;just as surely as they lead towards its end.
How rarely do we stop to examine that path?
To see the reason why things happen?
To consider whether the path we take in life is our own making -
or simply one into which we drift with eyes closed.
But what if we could stop?
Pause to take stock of each precious moment before it passes?
Might we then see the endless forks in the road that have shaped a life?
and seeing those choices,
choose another path?

For this moment alone, I'm open to the possibility that everything happens for a reason.

Need a hug?

A nice little clip from "Baldly Drawn Boy" - Enjoy!

Chris Bell Poetry

Let’s drive

I want you to be driving

and for me to be in the passenger seat

on a clear day

with the sun shining.

Ideally, there will be cicadas and a light breeze blowing

and I will wind my window down.

We will drive until the cities are far behind us

we will be on a long, straight road through pine forests.

We will still be driving as the sun sets

but there will be no pressure to get anywhere,

to be in any other place at any other time.

Now will be now, and we will be in it.

The traffic will be light and we

will move faster than any other vehicle.

This will be a journey of joy on roads

never before travelled but somehow familiar,

there will be no signs, just the passing landscape

of contoured scenery and trees.

Although we will drive on and on

we will never tire.

We will be fresh, sharp-eyed,

enthralled by the world around us.

There will be an air of safety

and calm attentiveness

and a view of the world as though upon a cinema screen.

Our hearts will be filled with expectation;

at the far end of our journey

there might be a hotel room,

a bar and soft lighting,

a firm bed, clean white towels and room service laid on,

but there will be no need for a place to rest—

this driving will feel so good.

http://www.chrisbell.co.nz

Rest home reservations

Not a gray hair in sight

I'm looking for a metaphor people! - I want to segue into a story about an old piece of clothing - a favourite shirt or glove that hasn't been worn for a while. Something that when tried on after a long time, sorta - you know - fits like a glove. Except, you see, it has to more than that, because I wanted to use it as an introduction to a story - a true story. Something important.

North Finchley Girl (NFG) came into my life a week before my 21st birthday. I know this because I invited her as soon as I met her, and IG got really really super pissed with me. In a very short time we made a lasting connection, and also immediately agreed to be friends until we retired to the same Dunedin rest home, where we would spend our salad days throwing pureed food at each other.
Like many friendships forged in the days before running water and electricity, they were made to last. I stayed with her in London, where she taught me to play 500's - a brilliant story in itself if you ask me.
To this day I still remember first meeting up with her at an underground station - I immediately noticed she'd developed a distinctive plum in her accent, but failed to notice she was getting more and more embarrassed, while I was getting more and more animated (and loud) during our conversation on the tube; it seems one does not talk on the tube - one keeps ones business to oneself :)
Always a lot of fun, once in North Finchley, NFG plied me with drinks, accommodation, and enough sightseeing to give Frommer a headache - and for all that I am eternally grateful. My thoughts of London will always be associated with her.
After London, she came back to Auckland, and we unfortunately went our own way in life, but over the years it's honest to say I've thought of her often - and I wondered what she had done with her special brand of madness. I missed my friend.
When I moved to Auckland, it took over a year to face my inner demons and contact her. The trail went cold - and in all honesty after I failed the first time, I was reluctant to try again. When I saw her name at old friends I contacted her via the site, and we arranged to catch up. This meeting was chronicled somewhere here - I just cant find it...anyway...
I've been meaning to catch up with her again, but to be honest a part of me was reluctant. I quickly beat the crap out of the reluctant bit and we finally caught up for dinner tonight.

This is where the bit about the glove would have fitted brilliantly....

In less than 15 seconds, twenty years were gone, and for me it was as if we were those two kids in that underground again. We reaffirmed our commitment to our salad days before heading off to drink wine, and eat pasta. There wasn't a silent moment - we had twenty years to catch up on after all.
At the end of the night it was obvious that there were going to be many more catch ups, because great friends are born of many things, the least of all an undefinable bond that exists for no understandable reason. They just are.

You dive too?

After my nasty run in with the Russian, I have become increasingly wary of online dating sites.
Jay posted a comment which has haunted me since;

I'm not sure if the Internet dating thing really works out in the long run,
but I did think that lying was kind of a given.

This upset me, because I had to agree with her - people really do misrepresent themselves.
The question I need to ask is why?
If someone falls for your profile - won't they be slightly disappointed when they find you aren't some kind of superhero - that maybe, yes, at one time, you really did have a gym membership, and yes you would like to learn to dive, if the whole idea of water didn't have to apply.

Obviously, people tend to say the best things about themselves - but how much is intention, and how much is reality?

Of the few women I have loved - none went to the gym. And no woman I know dives. So I'm guessing this isn't so much a dating agency I've signed into, but a club of undersea gym fanatics, who love tall dark, and handsome men, who in turn are cocky (but not too cocky), can hold an intelligent conversation, and have a great sense of humour. Oh also- they must absolutely "get me", and love my cats.

So where are all the girls who hog the sheets, fart in bed? The ones who walk up behind you after a bad day, and put their arms around you - linking hands in front, resting their head on your shoulder? You know - the ones who make your life worthwhile?

Not at any damn undersea gym, one suspects!

New Zealand Music Month

Phlex by Blindspott.

When you want to rest your head
On a shoulder that
You know wont turn on you
We’re all here till the end
With you my friend
There’s no reason to go...

Not one day that you are here
has been promised to you
So make the most of everyday
as if it was your last
And every breath
as if it was the same

Ducks

The ones that got away

You know that the world cant be all bad, when a traffic jam on the way home was caused by motorists stopping their cars to allow ducks the right of way.

"Mum duck" just waited patiently until the cars stopped, then proceeded across the street with around eight ducklings in tow. I was still smiling when I got home - as much for the ducks as for the people who stopped.

It's was almost enough to forget Craig's murderous duck rampage on the way back from the Greymouth Motorcycle Street Race. Almost.....

My Long Weekend.

Having worked all last weekend I arranged to disconnect from reality, and have a four day weekend to catch up on some sleep; It's been great.
Sleeping, for me you see, has always been a type of release. When most stressed I simply curl up in bed and sleep the day away.
This weekend however, a vicious combination of cheese and Biggest Loser reruns on TV have resulted in my dreams taking on an up sized bias. In these dreams I am, how do you say, larger than life; and not in a good way. Now, instead of waking rested and recharged, I wake feeling like crap.
I believe the blame sits primarily with my sporty type friends. These slender types with their ironman, rugby, cricket, hockey lifestyles must have been subconsciously getting to me. I really must remember to ply them with chocolate bars next time I visit.

End of the Innocence

When IG broke his leg trying to prove he could kill himself on a motorcycle (he couldn't) - I remember Richard Dagg making up some music for him to listen to whilst in hospital. Amongst the various titles of the day was "Mandolin Rain" by Bruce Hornsby and the Range. Bruce's piano style is distinctive to say the least. This particular song featured Bruce, and at the time spoke volumes to me. Now it only services to remind me why some people shouldn't ride motorcycles. It's still a cool song tho, and worthy of a mention...
Also - more user friendly posts coming soon - as soon as the Merlot wears off. Happy Birthday Sweetp! :)

Finding your way

Some relationships are complex, some less so.

It's interesting in a way; When those that surround your life embark on new journeys.
Relationships, Marriages, Families, Divorces - a perpetual cycle.
Well- hopefully not divorces.
Sometimes there's room for others outside this cycle of life, although more often than not people couple off and disappear into their newly discovered bliss. Children often come, and for a while friends can still be around, but reality often settles in with a second child; sometimes it's just too hard to dip your toe into the water of your old life - at least until the kids grow up.
Many people I see on findsomeone - complain about the same thing. They come home to New Zealand after an extended OE, only to find all their friends all coupled up with mortgages and families - no more late night parties, even a movie at night can be a stretch - especially if the kids are young, and sitters are hard to come by.
For those left outside, it's a long wait for the kids to grow up. In the meantime one can always jump on another "bus" with younger crowd yet to discover a significant other.
When you see it happening again; you know it's more or less over. The question often asked of ones self is "Do you have to get on the bus yourself, or if you don't - do you get left behind ?"
I believe the important thing is not to settle for something less than you know you want. To everyone who says "you're too fussy" - I ask "Did you take second best?". The response is always no - and I have to believe them.
We all have our chances in life -whether we take them or not, is another question. I used to think you shouldn't push an issue - on refection though - how much pushing could be construed as making your own luck?
Life is a tapestry of sorts; We have no way of seeing the completed article when we start. Some of us stumble along the way, and the design may change mid-stream; but it's our lives, and at the end a wonder to behold, regardless of the path travelled.
And it's not over yet.

Counting Crowes

I'm showing my age here, but this remains a favourite song of times past, and an average temperature check of the day thus far. Mostly the song fits tis all - my walls aren't crumbling yet :)

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog
Where no one notices the contrast of white on white
And in between the moon and you the angels get a better view
Of the crumbling difference between wrong and right
I walk in the air between the rain through myself and back again
Where? I don't know....


....She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
Just like shes walking on a wire in the circus...

...She knows shes more than just a little misunderstood
She has trouble acting normal when shes nervous...


...She says its only in my head
She says shhh I know its only in my head
But the girl on car in the parking lot says
man you should try to take a shot
Cant you see my walls are crumbling?...

Looking again

I was having lunch today with Painter Girl and Sweetp, and this song from MelC was playing in a background.

My previous experience with faux street beggars in Melbourne aside, I freely admit that there are people who need a helping hand in this world. Although this video is out of sych slightly watch it right through to the end; it may challenge your preconceptions - then again it may not.

Lest we forget

Anzac Day

On every 25th of April, New Zealand and Australia stop to pay their respects to the Eleven and a half thousand New Zealand and Australian ANZAC's that died during the attempts to capture the Gallipoli peninsula in 1915. Over the years this memorial has come to encompass veterans from both First and Second World Wars, and later veterans from Korea, and Vietnam.

I believe the best thing that came out of the fatally flawed Gallipoli campaign, can be readily seen at every remembrance since. People from all walks of life and cultures gather together to give thanks for the freedoms we so often take for granted. For many of us, who have never known war first hand, it is a solemn reminder of what we owe to those who have come before us, and the legacy we must strive to leave for those yet to come.

This day, is swiftly and silently becoming our New Zealand Day.

"They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old.
Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the evening
we will remember them."

Hi - I'm Troy McClure

With over 300 DVDs in my collection, you'd think that there would be a few I haven't seen. What has worried me lately is the increasing number of DVDs I've yet to watch. You would think that with a myriad of choices to make I'd pick a movie I hadn't seen before: You would be wrong.
Lately I seem to be choosing less controversial choices from my collection; movies I've seen many times before. A comfortable fireside companion DVD is the choice de jour. This is a concern primarily because I used to be a different type of movie watcher.

It's important that you know... Hi - I'm Mark J.
You may remember me watching such scenes as the head in the vice scene in Casino, and the Reservoir Dogs ear cutting scene.

Gritty was my modus operandi. Well - perhaps mildly gritty.

Lately the following titles from my collection have been lurking;

The Departed
Blue Velvet
Knife in the Water
and embarrassingly; to a lesser extent
The Constant Gardener.

Sooner or later we all must take the plunge into the unknown.

Five thousand

Who would have thought it.

It's so nice to see some many people dropping in to say hello.

So whether you are a first timer, or a regular visitor - I thank you for taking time to drop by.

Oh - and Sands - lets see if you can summon enough courage to add a comment before the counter hits 10,000. Yeah - I know - I won't hold my breath :)

Hope everyone is enjoying their weekend. I have wasted the whole of my Saturday working in the bowels of Auckland International Airport fixing what must be the most horrendous fault in my technical life.

Unfortunately there is always tomorrow.... I pity the fool who made this mess for me to clean up - there will be retribution - oh yes there will.

Movie Review Haiku

Sunshine on my mind
What a waste of time it was
Slasher film in drag.

Adult Alternative Me

Question: Am I truly old if all I listen to is adult alternative music?
Or just weird?

OK. So I admit to listening to a lot of dross in the past (and maybe tomorrow). My CD collection definitely has some skeletons, but Radiohead isn't one of them. I do however, have a disproportionate number of Pat Benatar albums....

I love this song - I'm not sure why, because I've very possibly never been in this situation..

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My Fake Plastic Love.
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

Well unless you substitute love for life that is... hmmm
Full lyrics here. I hope you like the song - for, at exactly this moment, I am one with it. Tomorrow however, may be completely another story. At that, my friends, is the story of my life.

My Birthday

How I normally feel about my birthday

I am a lucky person.
I have friends; a lot of them.
How do I know this?
One day out of the year my phone chirps like a cricket on acid - and continues to spit out text and voice messages of birthday well wishes all day long.
I'm not big on big things - I'm big on little things. The constant calls and emails containing variants of the "you're old" theme is a nice reminder that I'm not alone in the world. Thank you all.
The physical distance that separates us is the price we pay for where we are. While the gifts I received this year were all lovely, i have to say that the one thing I'm certain to remember this year was when my friend "Painter-girl" put her arm around my waist, and we swayed from side to side for a moment as we waited to leave Rachel's house.
Because there's nothing as big as the little things.

The Perfect Age

Story One: Today
Visiting Waikato Hospital today on a work related matter, I find myself working in the "sleep lab". Asking the nurse how you get to spend a night in the sleep ward, the possible sleep apnea sufferer looks at the nurse awaiting a simple answer: no such luck. "You get a referral from your GP luv - says she, "You look like a bit of a snorer luv, it's that short neck of yours - a right giveaway that"...."Did ya know there's research that says the low frequency snoring can move aortic plaque to your brain and cause you to stroke out?"

Story Two: Mum re - my grandmothers nursing home.
"God - Mark .....David (a dementia patient) was there the other day; his trousers around his ankles, his pull ups fallen down enough that you could see his butt crack. I was worried he was going to take a dump in the corner of the visitors room!"

Dilemma - Just how long do I want to live?

Why didnt I ?

Ten things I wish I knew when I was twenty-one;

Buy a house and save 10% of you salary.
When good fortune comes your way - take it and cherish it.
Love needs to be acknowledged and nurtured.
Don't stay in the same job too long. You'll get more money and kudos if you keep jumping
Travel early - don't wait too long.
Trust in your abilities, if a new job doesn't give you butterflies in your stomach then it's not enough of a stretch for you.
Make your own luck. Any other sort of luck is random at best.
Being a good person won't make things happen for you - Karma only happens to bad people.
Don't be a drunk - be a connoisseur.
Don't put it off for tomorrow - those opportunities may never come again.

Danny Boy

I'd put this up againt sad kermit's version of "hurt" anyday!

1979

This song from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness always makes me smile. And I'm not being ironic - honest!

Have a lovely weekend folks !

A cigar is just a cigar

I was talking to IG (who doesn't call me no more) today, and he mentioned of late that my blog seems somewhat melancholic. What IG fails to realise is that although my writing may sometime seem melancholic, its perhaps better classified as nostalgic in nature. Melancholically nostalgic at a stretch!

Like most people my age, I guess I'm a little more concerned about what's goes on around me; I think now, more than ever, I'm starting to look at the world, and in some way, my place in it.

Mythos: Everything was better then than it is now. Reality: I guess not having Sunday trading would be great - that is until I want to go shopping :)

Anyway. On to the Nostalgia!

When I was a child I spent hours looking at the face of my first watch - I can actually remember the name on it - a Nivada - and it was red with a leather strap. I remember it because it was the first present that I ever got that was a grown up gift. Not a toy truck or a kids bike - it was a proper working watch - and it was soooo cool. It was nice - shiny, and so grown up.

From that point life has been, among other things, a journey of wants and desires. Things I wanted but never got, things that I got through hard work, and some things that fell in my lap. I think, after some reflection - yes - I am a perfectionist - and that although I may not have a lot of "stuff", I have nice stuff; often because I've worked hard to make it that way. And I won't apologise for that.

But all that said, I'm trying hard to compromise. I think it's fair to say I am usually the happiest person in the room, but there is more to me than than a smile or a witty comment. Di keeps telling me to embrace the parts of me that my job and surroundings have forced into the forgotten recesses of my mind. My photography, writing, music.

It's an exorcism of sorts, but I'll get there if IG and my other friends care enough to give me a kick in the arse when I get too serious.

Demotivation rules

I usually take sarcasm with a pinch of sugar, but its close cousin sardonic wit, I appreciate a little more. By looking at things in a negative light we are somehow given the opportunity to look at ourselves less critically - and simply go with the flow of self depreciation. Some of the biggest life lessons I've learnt have really hurt - but I'd freely admit that in the long run, they're lessons I appreciate.

Despair have been around a while; you may have already seen the list of de-motivational posters and coffee mugs. You can even create your own posters with a tool on their site.

This is my most recent favourite;

When the winds of change blow hard enough
the most trivial of things
can become
deadly projectiles.

Make it so

Fact or Fiction?

Friendships are complicated beasts. Some are low maintenance, others fall by the side as we move forward. Some are nested in a shared history or time, others are a spur of the moment affairs that carry on.

I've been thinking about my friends lately - this is the first Easter in a while that I haven't been home, and I've been thinking about how things have been going for them, and where I fit now I've been away from Dunedin for nearly five years.

The thing about the success of any any friendships; are that they remain unchanged together, or alternatively changed together. Capisce?
Example: If a low maintenance friendship changes to a high maintenance friendship - unless you want to up-size to a high maintenance friendship as well, then odds on the friendship will fail.
Sometimes friendships will change together with shared experiences, and others will fall into disrepair as people diverge on their own paths. The good news is that sometimes life will throw you a curve, and some old friends can be come new again.

The trick is to find the ones you really care about and try to make them work, even if it's just a little maintenance every now and again; because even a good friendship needs a tweak every once and awhile. Of course this only works if the other party feels the same way about you as well.

Just because you want it - doesn't always make it so.

Mac and Me

Hi Guys

I've been thinking about upgrading my PC lately. It's been about three years since my last upgrade, and I'm wondering if my next PC shouldn't be a Mac....
It's just that I'm not a real gamer now; basically blowing the heads of the undead doesn't do it for me anymore. I find I'm spending much more of my time online, reading and talking to others.
Now I hear that Macs can now run XP within MAC OS X, which is a neat trick - so if I ever felt the need to play Quake or any other FPS, I could do it without any hassles.

So - what I need to know.... are Mac's as good as they say? No virus scanners or spyware hunters robbing me of PC horsepower... it sounds to good to be true...

No OS crashes???? C'Mon - I'm not as green as I am cabbage looking..... :)

Email me if you're too shy to post.

Cheers

Mark.

A new creed

Some new commandments to follow. And everyone - remember if each one of us can abstain from killing someone else this year - I'd appreciate it.

Thou shalt not steal if there is direct victim.
Thou shalt not worship pop idols or follow lost prophets.
Thou shalt not take the names of Johnny Cash, Joe Strummer, Johnny Hartman, Desmond Decker, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix or Syd Barret in vain.
Thou shalt not think that any male over the age of 30 that plays with a child that is not their own is a peadophile… Some people are just nice.
Thou shalt not read NME.
Thall shalt not stop liking a band just because they’ve become popular.
Thou shalt not question Stephen Fry.
Thou shalt not judge a book by it’s cover.
Thou shalt not judge Lethal Weapon by Danny Glover.
Thall shalt not buy Coca-Cola products. Thou shalt not buy Nestle products.
Thou shalt not go into the woods with your boyfriend’s best friend, take drugs and cheat on him.
Thou shalt not fall in love so easily.
Thou shalt not use poetry, art or music to get into girls’ pants. Use it to get into their heads.
Thou shalt not watch Hollyoakes.
Thou shalt not attend an open mic and leave as soon as you're done just because you’ve finished your shitty little poem or song you self-righteous prick.
Thou shalt not return to the same club or bar week in, week out just ’cause you once saw a girl there that you fancied but you’re never gonna fucking talk to.

Thou shalt not put musicians and recording artists on ridiculous pedestals no matter how great they are or were.


The Beatles - Were just a band.
Led Zepplin - Just a band.
The Beach Boys - Just a band.
The Sex Pistols - Just a band.
The Clash - Just a band.
Crass - Just a band.
Minor Threat - Just a band.
The Cure - Just a band.
The Smiths - Just a band.
Nirvana - Just a band.
The Pixies - Just a band.
Oasis - Just a band.
Radiohead - Just a band.
Bloc Party - Just a band.
The Arctic Monkeys - Just a band.
The next big thing - JUST A BAND.

Thou shalt give equal worth to tragedies that occur in non-English speaking countries as to those that occur in English speaking countries.
Thou shalt remember that guns, bitches and bling were never part of the four elements and never will be.


Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music

Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music

Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music

Thou shalt not make repetitive generic music

Thou shalt not pimp my ride.
Thou shalt not scream if you wanna go faster.
Thou shalt not move to the sound of the wickedness.
Thou shalt not make some noise for Detroit.
When I say “Hey” thou shalt not say “Ho”.
When I say “Hip” thou shalt not say “Hop”.
When I say "he say, she say, we say, make some noise" - kill me.
Thou shalt not quote me happy.
Thou shalt not shake it like a polaroid picture.
Thou shalt not wish your girlfriend was a freak like me.
Thou shalt spell the word “Pheonix” P-H-E-O-N-I-X not P-H-O-E-N-I-X, regardless of what the Oxford English Dictionary tells you.
Thou shalt not express your shock at the fact that Sharon got off with Bradley at the club last night by saying “Is it”.
Thou shalt think for yourselves.

And thou shalt always kill.

So this is science fiction?

"Later, in his quarters, Bill sits at his desk, Aurora at his right hand... He affixes the goddess to her prow: this family, every piece just right. No mothers without sons, no fathers losing daughters. Moving forward, toward the Lie of Earth that even he now believes, thanks in large part to his fallen child. He looks at the ship, moving forward with dawn upon her prow, a light breeze and the soft and rosy light, into the future. The dawn she put into his hands, when he feared she was going crazy, with the loveliest light in the back of her eyes, with her tiny hand in his, passing a goddess to him, smiling bashfully, full of love and light, even as the darkness was closing in. The moment in which they promised each other, with Laura standing witness, that everything was going to be okay: she put this dawn in his hand, and then took herself out of it. She handed him the future, a future which no longer includes Starbuck, no longer includes his favorite among all his children. A future he fights for, in large part, for her. Earth: a gift, to replace all the things New Caprica took from Kara and Saul."

Jacob, Television Without Pity.


Now - if I can only convince Jay to watch the pilot. :)

Insight

Within each of us; lies a child.

I've always loved kids - they are a fascinating insight to ourselves in so many ways. One of the things I've always found interesting is when they develop an awareness of self. By that I mean; when a young child looks at their own photo, and is asked "Who is that?", they almost always reply with their own name - like "That's Georgia", instead of "That's me". Cute me thinks !
As they grow up, children develop a sense of self, and eventually start referring to themselves in that manner.

More recently I've noticed another milestone. My workmate has a young son. Like most boys he's inclined to run around like a madman oblivious to his surroundings - that is - until those surroundings catch up with him. In the past falls have result in cries of pain, and rest assured, the tears are not far behind. Unabashed the little guy turned on the fountains, only to quickly recover, and continue where he left off a few minutes earlier.

That was the story a year ago anyway. When the same lad twisted his ankle on Sunday, he looked at me, and shuffled past quickly to his dads car. Once locked inside you could hear the howls, and you knew there were tears as well.

But mostly you knew was only a short time before they too would be gone, and tears would soon be few and far between.

Some right of passage - eh.

The kid in me.

You can only make something so new. This i realise today, whilst continuing what has become an ongoing saga to rebuild my 1970's Raleigh Chopper. This epiphany came to me today, just as I received the first lot of re-chromed items from the electroplaters. I thought that restoring a car was expensive - but that's just peanuts compared to the projected cost of this bike project.

My brother Scot has the frame in Dunedin - it's currently being re welded and media blasted.
When that's finished it will be etch primed and sent back to Auckland for painting.
Craig has offered to paint it in a new type of high lustre red paint, and I paid someone in the UK $80 for the transfers. Then comes the coat of clear lacquer over the top. Perhaps two layers - I'm not sure yet; and that's just the frame.

Then comes all the ancillary "bits" that I've chromed and restored. The rims have yet to be re-spoked in stainless steel, and the seat has to be re-trimmed. The cranks have to be straightened and the pedals have to be replaced. New tires and brakes are an obvious addition; the list goes on.

Is this project just a pathetic attempt to hold on to one of the major things I wanted at seven years old, or god forbid, something even worse?

More, as revelations come to hand. It might get nasty - oh yes it may...

Something you can't live without.

Totally stole this from David's kiwiblog site.

I saw this in Melbourne. Watch it - It's will make you feel better afterward.

Boxes

I don't like to think people can put me in a box; that they can look at the sum of me, and decide - OK - that's who Mark is.
In a way, although many people have tried to do this, I've always sought to have some type of balance in everything I do, a good example of this being my eclectic taste in music.
Last week it slowly dawned on me that I might be slipping into a demographic, without even recognising it; all this because about 8 months ago I joined a local dating website.

I joined match.com basically as a way of meeting new people. I have a lot of friends here in Auckland now and I love them all to death, but it's fair to say that the group I have been mixing in is now quite settled, and meeting new people is difficult. One of our group,Jen summed it up best when she said that she would like to meet someone when she was most happily being herself. Her idea was; when someone saw you being happy in your life/work/self, they would be more likely to like you for the same reasons you liked yourself. For that reason she always believed that she was more likely to find someone through a less immediate social contact than Internet dating. I have to say - I agree wholeheartedly; but after some needling from others I gave it a go anyway. I hate it.

Still, I have met some nice people online. Recently, however, I have backed off the whole Internet dating scene - simply because I've had a lot of other things on. The other day however, I received an interesting email from a girl from Wellington, who worked in the Financial sector.

I emailed her back, but I was a bit suspicious. I actually emailed her profile to another friend to see what she thought. The next day another email popped into my mailbox, telling me about herself, and that she was a child psychologist. I pretty much knew something was up - I mean how many child psychologists work in the financial sector? I wrote back, and giving her the benefit of the doubt, asking her if she was actually in Wellington. Nope - you guessed it - she was from one of the Baltic States.

In some ways I was conflicted about how to proceed with this. Perhaps this was a genuine person, who is attractive, and bright, with a University degree, just trying to make a better life for herself?
My cynical self though it more likely the emailer was a 56-ish year old man with a bevy of photographs of young women, waiting for his next Western Union transfer from some poor idiot somewhere else in the world that just wants to get laid.
Regardless - I'm not even interested in dating someone in another city - let alone another country, so I guess I'll pull the plug either way. Who would have though someone would have profiled me for this sort of bullshit?

It's weird, but a part of me hopes she isn't "real" - so because of this I guess you can put me in the "Sap box" then :)

I get bothered about stuff.

Moustache's - what the hell ya hiding fella?
As if women find the moustache sexy. So you grow this slug of facial hair above your lip, and let it catch anything and everything that comes near your mouth or nose. It's fair to say that I simply don't trust moustache wearers, and frankly I hope the trend doesn't catch on - lest I become ever more un-hip. The thought of someone with a "mo" getting more than me is very depressing - mainly because this is actually happening.

Sidewalk Dining - So you wanna eat where people walk?
Not to be confused with Courtyard dining - I believe the coup de grace was suckering the public into eating on the sidewalk. I can just picture it - a restaurateur worried about how he's going to fit all his diners in. He discusses this with his head waiter, and he joking suggests they can sit them outside the restaurant on the sidewalk. Like that's going to work - how did we fall for it?

Inconsiderate drivers
Merging into a long lane of waiting traffic at the last minute because they rate themselves higher than those who wait in line. The merging creates that line mister. Why do normally nice people get into cars and become complete arseholes? Be nice - and unless your wife is about to have a damn baby in the back seat - just get into the damn line!
Do you drive your mother to church in that car?

Sorry - When you've got writers block, a rant is good for the soul. :)

Fidelity

I would like to point out that I've had this album for over a year now, and am in not in any way posting this song because of any damn Xtra/Yahoo promotion on the TV!!! :)

Be

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking, so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do. It's not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own lights shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

Marianne Williamson

Wise Up - Aimee Mann

Got a few hours?

Looking for a challenging little film that will blow you out of the water - if you could only handle the subject matter?

Look no further than Magnolia - a film reputedly based partly on the song writing of Aimee Mann. It's a total mind-frak, and coincidentally, the best acting I've ever seen Tom Cruise do.

Be brave. And don't blame me if you don't like it !

For some reason i cant embed the video - click here to listen to the track.

Is you is or is you aint?

How can the TV news have any serious credibility when their bulletins is full of grammatical errors?
When is and are are swapped around at someones maniacal whim, we is all lost I'm afraid.
I have no formal training on what the rules of Grammar is, but when I hear it done bad, I can't help but not wonder that as a society; is we on the slippery slope to Anarchy? So - Is we people???? IS WE?
Please don't lose sleep wondering if you've got the grammar bug or not - just remember either ya got it or you don't.

Got it?


ARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Thanks Brad !

Bugatti Veyron at top speed
Uploaded by Flabber

Oh yes there was a GP too

Coy-lee Minogue

Evidentally this was how John Hamilton from the Herald Sun saw the Melbourne GP.


THE sun shone, the banshees wailed, the blonde's wiggled, the stilt walkers pranced, and two human kangaroos bounded. Everybody tried very hard, but a frozen Finn won a desultory Australian Grand Prix yesterday. Kimi Raikkonen, the Ferrari driver with the charisma bypass, drove his red machine to a passionless victory at Albert Park watched by a strangely subdued crowd. There were plenty of seats to spare in the stands along the straight when the race began, while around the lake an hour before the start you could pick your picnic spot under a shady tree. Raikkonen, himself, set the mood of the day when he was booed by fans soon after he arrived at the course at 10.20am.He was five minutes behind his Ferrari team­mate Felipe Massa. But while the bouncy Brazilian jumped from his car to greet the hundreds of fans gathered outside the gates leading to the pits and signed auto­graphs on everything from caps to shirts to toy cars, the frosty Finn just turned on his heel and strode away from them. Booing replaced the earlier welcome cries of "Kimi! Kimi! Kimi!" With a blonde companion dressed in tight jeans and calf-high boots, Raikkonen walked with a set ace into the Paddock area, where he disappeared quickly into the Ferrari pits. Outside the pits, in an extended hospitality area, elegant Europeans in red uniforms and shirts with stripes in the Italian national colours sipped espresso and watched the passing parade. The strollers ranged from Mr Bling to Miss Poland. Mr Bling, alias Mr Moko, a jewellery designer originally from Senegal, was in leather pants and leather hat with a shirt featuring red, green and yellow hibiscus flowers. He had diamond studs in his ears, 14 gold and silver bracelets on each wrist, and every finger of each hand twinkled with stacked rings. Silver chains swung from his waist as Mr Moko said his Chrome Hearts jewellery was sought by many stars, including Cher. He brightened visibly when told that Kylie Minogue was in the area. At this moment Miss Poland, who, alas, speaks no English, teetered past in a short and glittering bead dress. The wonder was she could walk in a pair of shoes with stiletto heels as thin and high as tomato stakes. After aerating a patch of turf, she sank with a grateful sigh on to a chrome chair and moodily sipped a chocolate milk. Nearby were two figures who are at the GP every year and somehow added to the feeling that the event has become Melbourne's Groundhog Day. There was Nikki Lauda in his red baseball cap and Jackie Stewart in his blue plaid tartan cap and tartan trousers. Both were continuing conversations that may have begun here last year, or the year before that. And over there was Ron Walker, chairman of the Australian Grand Prix Corporation, stewarding VIPs and looking worried. As he does every year. Overhead the army helicopters clattered and an F/A-18 thundered. A Qantas jumbo made a low pass down the straight. As usual. Kylie Minogue was the happy superstar who gave the show some fizz. She upstaged the lot of them and saved the day. There she was in the Honda pits, posing happily for photos with the mechanics in her sheer fawn dress and glitzy gold shoes. There she was just before the start of the race, waving to the crowd. And there she was, even blowing kisses to the media gathered above the starting grid before the howling of the F1's began. I should be so lucky. (Click at your own risk)

Sorry - I gave to Unicef

If I had to name one immediate thing that reduces my faith in mankind, it would be the street beggar. Although I believe that we are responsible in some way for the well being of our fellow man, I'd also like to think that we all have to take some responsibility for our own lives, and seek help from others if we need it. If anyone should fall on hard times, a responsible society should have a safety net to accomplish these goals.

It may be hard to believe, but street begging in New Zealand is not a common thing. We have a supposed welfare system, that "should" stop most of this sort of thing from happening. Sure, some people live on the fringe of society, perhaps suffering from mental, or physical dependencies. Drugs like P or glue, or simpler varieties like alcohol are an easy enough "out" for those who of us who live in the mainstream let alone a fringe dweller.

It's harsh - but when some Melbourne drunk walks up to me and asks me for $5 for something to eat, or a young pregnant woman stops my brother for spare change - in a clean dress and shoes, I get really REALLY angry. Millions of people die each year die because they cant get enough to eat or drink, and these faux beggars are desensitising us to a point where we just can't afford to care anymore.

I hate them for it, and if I could I'd ship all these street beggars to Africa or some other famine zone. At least then all the starving millions would be in the same boat - and our aid and good will could really make a difference.

Too harsh?