he had it coming

Lecherous Bob is going down. This is the last straw. I'm gonna make him pay.

Um, yeah.

He should've known better than to mess with me, and now he has an harrassment case against him. I wonder if that was the cause of his nervous breakdown. I wonder if he'll have another one.

You know what? I hope he does. At least then we'll be rid of him for good. Mwahahaha.

I'm trying to treat this lightly, because what he said really really pissed me off. This is the second time - where there were witnesses, that is. I've let too many comments slide, and maybe he thinks he can get away with it. Sad thing is, he doesn't even realise what he said was hurtful. He honestly thinks he's funny, and it's all the more pathetic that he didn't notice no one else laughed. Especially not me.

But I will. The last one.

if

if a turtle loses its shell, is it homeless or naked?

Don’t ya hate it when…

Don’t ya hate it when … you’re sitting down to afternoon tea with all your work colleagues, and lecherous Bob continuously makes inane comments that make everyone in the room collectively groan internally, so you respond with some really clever put downs. Later people congratulate you on your brilliant wit and you can’t remember what you said.

Don’t ya hate it when … you’re listening to Pitch Rich on JJJ’s morning show and you come up with a brilliant idea for a reality tv show – and it has to be brilliant because you normally hate reality tv. So you tell a friend about it who just happens to work in the industry, even though they’re just small fish, just to get their feedback. They say it’s not so brilliant and you forget about it. Several months later you learn that Ben Affleck and Matt Damon are producing YOUR IDEA!

Digital conversations – uncensored

Him: I have just realised something - you don't need to READ books, you need to WRITE them! Have you tried writing? A book, or short story I mean. I do type a lot but actual words coming from my mouth are seldom.

Me: I used to write years ago, but I everything I churned out seemed immature and under-developed. A good story has detail, but I tend to glaze over detail to get to the meat. Less is more.

Not to mention, you need a good idea, something worth writing about.

I started writing a blog. A blog is good, because posts can be short. The way I like them. And they can be about total crap, or diary-like honesty. And I don't have to justify anything I write. I find it useful to do this, as writing regularly, making it a habit, forcing myself to write, maybe one day I might produce something good. Totally by accident of course.

Him: Okay, but just remember that a good writer will die young, unappreciated and poor.

Me: That's ok, I make more money butchering other people's writing.

Him: It's not about money; it's about forever being remembered as a genius author and the venereal disease from which you died (all the greats do this) - remember, young, poor and undiscovered.

Me: Why don't you write something? I'll butcher it, I mean, I'll be your editor.

Him: Me dyslexic, not write them words good. That why me drive computer for people-not-me, not me drive computer for writing on.

Me: You. Idiot.

Remember that story you sent me ages ago to turn into a graphic novel? I don't know what I did with it, but I reckon it was going somewhere. I went to Impact Comics* the other week to promote the mag, and started feeling all inspired to start that project again.

* Impact Records no longer sells music, and they've moved. Just upstairs from Revolution CD. It's kinda nerdy, but in a good way. I reckon you'd love the Star Wars stuff they got in there.

Him: It's funny because I love everything about star wars, except George Lucas. That guy is a poo sniffer. He needs to shave his head, that hair of his shits me.

I remember that stuff - I've written plenty of things, in fact at any given moment I'll have something in the making on the PC - but I don't share anymore, it's all mine now :) I'm even part way through a book. I'll never finish it but I do enjoy writing it. I do the same thing you do - whenever I re-read things that I wrote ages ago, things that I remember liking at the time, I always think to myself "This is crap, what was I thinking?" - that's why I don't share. Because I've never written anything that I liked six months later. Besides, my stories are always the same. Boy meets girl, girl smashes boy in head with steal pipe until he has detached retinas. Girl steals boy's wallet, cuts out part of his liver and cuts off both his feet. Boy lives and builds some new feet. Boy cancels credit cards and gets a new copy of his driver’s license. Boy lives happily ever after with robot feet, girl cooks up a nice pate with toe appetisers and an ankle sorbet and serves to unsuspecting guests, Hannible Lectar style. Perhaps with a nice Kiante and some fava beans.

Me: That's trippy. You have been waaaayyyy too isolated these past two and a half years.

Maybe we should write a story together.

Him: Okay, but you know my story parameters. Boy. Girl. Steel Pipe. Robot Feet. Credit Cards cancelled. Pate.

Me: You got yourself a deal.

linky links

Oh yeah, the list is getting bigger. Welcome.

You and you.

countdown

only 9 more days till the Rainman comes home

Tribute

A sea of faces all nodding in agreement, passionately. Energy to jump and crash and get up again and surf across the collective hand comes from up there. As the fog clears and the colours wash over and change and change and change and the warm salty rain falls not from the sky but from them. And you smile. Because you know they love you. I feel it in my belly, and if I didn’t know better I swear the kid was moshing in there. At least I know he’s got good taste.

Beez Neez

I’ve been a busy blogger lately. There are plenty of reasons for this.

• I’m home alone
• I’m bored
• I’ve got a lot more crap to say than usual
• I’m cramming: only one more sleep till KK comes home. In which case you won’t hear from me for days
• I’m a comment whore
• It’s therapeutic
• Since I did the new layout I’ve been narcissistic-ally visiting Blog just to admire my own handy-work. So I post for the sake of something new to read. Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s worth reading.

In other news… I’m going to Brisneyland in a couple of weeks. SOOB is on. A great opportunity for a creatively-stunted wanna-be (something) to hob-nob with other like-minded pissheads to sit around reading poetry and listening to bands and sharing ideas and it’s all quite pretentious really. I’m just going for the booze.

nyah

There’s always one. One who has to go one better. One who has to interrupt your stories with “yeah I’ve done that. But it was much better when I did it”. One who has to belittle your experiences with their own grandeur. Buy a car and they’ll show up next week with a bigger faster newer shinier flashier more expensssssive car with dvd and a mini bar. Have a romantic weekend at home and come Monday, they’ll regale you with tales of hearts and flowers and room service.

It goes the other way too. Say you’re busy, and they will groan and moan about how much they have to do and woe is me and I’ll have to stay late and there should be two of me… Mention you might have a prowler** and guess who suddenly is receiving obscene phone calls late at night. (I wish)

Do they want your envy or your sympathy? Praise or charity? Either way they make you feel bad, and worse for feeling bad knowing that’s what they want. But maybe they give themselves too much credit. No one gets to see the car. Or the flowers. Or the timesheet. And that is their way. Make me believe it. Better me but convince me.

Because until then I’m still better

‘cause I did it first.



** prowler story coming soon

internet bumper sticker

blah

if you get an early start, it won't feel so bad tomorrow.

it's goon-tastic!

On the doorstep when I got home today, what did I find? A case of red wine. Yum. No more riesling or chardonnnnaaaayy for me. Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around. I've already started. Um, isn't it only Monday?

Home Alone pt II

So I'm living alone at the moment. K is working interstate and occasionally comes home on weekends, but for the most part I'm flying solo. So I'm spending a lot more time online now - please bear with me and my inane comments you might find on your blogs.

I've learnt some stuff about myself these past few weeks:

1. I talk to myself a lot, as people do when there's no one else around to talk to. How many people respond to themselves though?

2. I still close the toilet door behind me.

3. The tv is on less and the radio/cd player is on more.

4. I eat nothing but frozen dinners and 2 minute noodles. Dolmio Bowls saved my life.

5. I'm really paranoid my feral neighbours will break into my house when I'm at work and steal my computer. Which is stupid because I'm not sure they even know what a computer is. Toothless hicks.

6. I've been sleeping on the "other side" of the bed.

7. Suddenly I'm a morning person.

surprise!

I have a new layout. I was a little bored today...

i love storms

but this one sounds like it's right on my doorstep. scared the crap out of me.

maybe it's not such a good night for blogging anymore.

JJJ just died on me, and the Rainman has come early.

considerately

only

3 more weeks until the Rainman comes home...

One Minute Silence

During those few moments today I thought about many things – people that died, people that survived, respect, lack of respect, and why they chose to blast air horns down the PA system rather than The Last Post – a more appropriate soundtrack for this ritual I would've thought.

Then I got to thinking about the soundtrack to my own life – songs that remind me of special events in my life.

• The Rose – Bette Midler


• While My Guitar Gently Weeps – The Beatles


• Eagle Rock – Daddy Cool


• I Heard it Through the Grapevine – Creedence Clearwater Revival


• I was Only 19 – Red Gum


• Paint it Black – Rolling Stones


• Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana


• Alive – Pearl Jam


• The Time of My Life – Greenday


• I Think About You – Guns n Roses


• Black – Henry’s Anger


• Crazy – Seal


• Sober – Tool


• Don’t Speak – No Doubt


• Santa Monica – Everclear


• Debaser – The Pixies


• Grace – Jeff Buckley

I don’t really know how to finish this post. I’m not going to explain where they all fit, and not many are obvious, despite what you may think.

Two that are, though, were playing through my head this morning, and I felt privileged to share a coffee with a WWII pilot I interviewed today and I wondered what was playing in his head. It’s gut wrenching to think it’s happening again.

hope

driving home today i saw a rainbow within a rainbow, so i pulled over to watch it and wonder where the gold is. then i realised the gold is waiting at home, so i got the hell out of there.

comin' home

My bestest-drinking-buddy-in-the-world Grant is coming home. He's been stranded at some great big fucking rock for 3 years and has finally scored himself a job here so will be home before xmas. We're so excited, I'm already stocking up on bourbon and beer and ten cent pieces and not getting any work done because we're having all-day-long email conversations about how the world is going to shit and how his socks smell and making plans for New Years and how we'll spend the holidays playing Star Wars Galaxies and why James is a dumb shit for going to back to the evil one. But apparently he has low self-esteem so it's ok.

screwed again

Sometimes I keep it short and sweaty.

And sometimes I'll ramble on for a while [shut up, will ya].

This is not one of those times.

My arse hurts already. Soon the whole "free world" will be walking around with a limp.

scammed

On Sunday I got tricked into going to church. I mean, I knew I was going to a church (for my friends' little girl's christening), I just didn't know I was going to have to sit through the whole mass. I thought it was going to be a private event, but when we entered the church it seemed the whole town was there. Yes, the whole town. We drove over an hour to some little town to attend this christening. It gets better. The christening/mass started at 8.30. Factor in the hour drive, losing an hour to daylight savings, and rushing around showering, dressing and sculling numerous cups of coffee and trying not to scald all my tongue-buds (and failing) meant I got up at 5.00 am on a Sunday.

That's not really my complaint though. I have not seen the inside of a real church in 20 years (school mass in the gym doesn't count). And then there was the off-key very high-pitched singing - there's not enough coffee in the world to deal with that first thing in the morning. Aaaanndd - did you know they pass around the collection plate twice? What's up with that? I thought the ATO was the only one who double-dips your pockets.

The funniest moment of the day (can church be funny?) was when the priest poured water on the baby's head and made her cry. The lady behind me said to her kids "They have to make her cry to get the devil out". Ohhhh, so it's not because the water's cold.

Disclaimer: I'm not knocking anyone's religion, faith, whatever. But it didn't seem to me that anyone else really really wanted to be there either. Maybe it's just routine, habit, obligation. But if you're going to go, you should really believe what you're chanting (praying?) and chant with conviction. You don't fool me. I've seen those freaky cults be more enthusiastic about their beliefs and their ceremonies.