Fucking Idiots, Pt 2

In fact, this song sums it up nicely too......

The Cure - Shiver and Shake

You're just a waste of time
You're just a babbling face
You're just three sick holes that run like sores
You're a fucking waste
You're like a slug on the floor
Oh you're useless and ugly
And useless and ugly
And I shiver and shake
When I think of how you make me hate

I want to smash you to pieces
I want to smash you up and screaming
I want to smash you helpless
Down on the floor
Smash you until you're not here anymore

And I shiver and shake
Shiver and shake

Yes, I think that sums it up nicely.

Fucking Idiots

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Excuse my cussing gentle readers.....

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking idiot.
How can you be so fucking rude, stupid, clueless, fucking, fucking, gaaaah!
Fuck off up that fucking rat hole you oozed out of and go fuck yourself.
You're a waste of fucking oxygen.
I hope you die and rot and fester and decay in fucking hell.
I hope the worst of your past is the best of your future.

Fuck you.


Phew, that feels better!

If I had a dollar

If only I had a dollar every time....

.... someone I already did not respect disagreed with with me
.... someone I did already respect agreed with me
.... I went with my head and regretted it
.... I forgot what listening meant
.... I flew rather than fought
.... I wished I could actually fly away
.... I felt uncomfortable singing my own praises
.... I allowed myself to do something less important ahead of something more important
.... I started reading a book and never finished
.... I realised my intentions are greater than my ability
.... I realised my plans are broader than time allows
.... I realised my dreams are further out of reach than I thought
.... I wished I had the words to express what I really wanted to say
.... I realised I could not explain what I know to be true
.... I wanted to punch my boss in the face

What is it to be rich?

Flavour
Wealth
Experience
Colour
Music
Prose
Aroma
Love
History
Time
Life

Election?

So little Johnny has gone and called the election date. Giddy up.

Since I am interested in the outcome, but not to the extent that I will march in a street with a banner, my post is bound to be somewhat in the middle. I suppose I am right wing, but only because I'm not left. But isn't that the definition of right wing anyhow?

I think whatever way you're going to vote, it lines up with a certain biblical philosophy. Particularly about unconditional election.

I quote from wiki....

In Calvinism, this election is called "unconditional" because his choice to save someone does not hinge on anything inherent in the person or on any act that the person performs or belief that the person exercises.

Similar to voting Kevin'07, since a vote for Kevin is just a vote against Johnny. Our vote does not hinge on anything inherent in the person (he's as boring as Johnny) or any act that the person performs (what has he done??) or belief that the person exercises (except that he believes the opposite to Johnny).

or.....

the Armenian doctrine of conditional election in which God's eternal choice to save a person is conditioned on God’s certain foreknowledge of future events, namely, that certain individuals would exercise faith and trust in response to God's offer of salvation.

Similar to voting for Johnny, since our vote is all about our belief that we have foreknowledge of future events, namely, that voters would exercise faith and trust in response to Johnny's offer of a strong economy.

I wonder if there's an unconditional election doctrine for the Greens?
There used to be one for the Democrats, but I can't remember who they are anymore.

A world away and time ago

I remember the dust doesn't take as long to settle as you think. Then, I walk. The weight is not a burden, but I do not forget. It effects my balance. The stones are not slippery here. There are even parts of walking trail off to one side, as a reminder that I'm headed the right way. But I remember, like it was only yesterday. I can hear the water now, splashing down from above. I need to cross before I climb. That tree root, always seemed dead, clinging to the rocks, is still there. I always expect it to be broken, yet it is not, every time I am here. It's in the perfect position for a hand grab, helps me up. At the top, I look down. It's not grand but it feels like mine, this waterfall. A few more metres off to the side. Hammock between two trees. I remember playing cards, drinking wine, and vodka. Jumping into the water - into just the right spot between the rocks - and back again. An eel brushes against my leg. There are voices, some others come to visit. But only for a short while. No-one else stays. They don't know this place (really) like I do. I'm glad. The night is always cool, the breeze always gentle, the stars always bright. Then later, the rain always light. I can spend days and days here. Just me, a friend, and the goannas. I am fifteen and this is my escape.

Breather

Can I put the brakes on the world please?




STOP




Can we all just sit down together and talk over a coffee?
Thanks.

Brain Dump

I'd originally wanted to set this blog up to allow some space to unload all the junk going on in my brain. To de-charge. Some people exercise, listen to music, or fuck. Most often, I need to re-sort my thoughts. Time to throw some things on the page and shuffle them around for later use. Ready?

Change is a circular process, not a linear one, so I welcome it's speed.
I'm not really actively passionate about anything and I think that's sad.
I always thought I was here for a reason. Am I waiting for it to be presented to me?
They say regret is usually because you didn't do something. It's true.
I trust my gut more and more all the time. So much so that I can't explain my logic in words.
I've been told that I often leave people behind when I explain something, that I speak on a different level.
I really, really, really love the 2 minutes of my day when I walk in the house and all the kids run to the door yelling daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy and give me big hugs around my legs. It's about my favourite thing in the world. If only they were bringing chocolate icecream for me too, it'd be perfect.
I can't get "I'm drunk, can't see my glass" out of my head, although I haven't heard Golden Playpen (INXS - Shabooh Shoobah) for years and years and years and you probably don't even know the song.
I don't know sometimes if I'm holding on too tight, or letting go too easily.
I don't like putting myself in other peoples shoes
I'm never going to have a mid-life crisis. It will be a gradual slide that gently rides me up and down, like a rollercoaster baby baby.
Now I've got "Shine Like it Does" in my mind too...

That will do. I'm tired. Goodnight from me (and goodnight from him).

A letter to my father

Dad,

I might start by saying that I'm not sure what I'm going to write, and whatever I do, you might not understand. Is that because I'm not sure that you understand me? Not sure. Perhaps I can't explain to you really what I want to say because I don't really know.

There were some things I never understood about you. Still don't. There seemed to me always a laissez-faire atmosphere about you. About you about me. I think perhaps what really was going on was that you didn't know how to be a dad. You did of course, but you weren't confident about it. Yes, that's it. Were you a confident father? I didn't get that impression. Did I need that? I'm not sure.

The one thing I admire about you though is that you never seem to let your frustrations get the better of you. You just take it all in. Absorb it. I never learnt anger from you. This is a good thing.

I'd written this letter before. Many years ago. It read very different to this one. The last one was filled with misunderstood shame and disappointment. A splash of resentment. I was young and naive. My years add respect to yours. As my wisdom grows, yours becomes apparent. Yet strangely, I can't help but think that luck played a strong part.

Emotions have unique ways of presenting themselves. We all know when you have things bottled up. You pace and frown. You look down and you look down. You get busy doing nothing. I am the same. You know, I don't know what you are passionate about. I am the same. But just because you do not have a passion, does not mean you are not passionate.

I wonder if you are happy. Like really. Is the journey enough or is there an end in mind? I wonder if I can answer the same? Sorry for the random babble. Perhaps this is more a letter to myself than it is to you.

Definitely looking forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks time. I'll make us pizza and share a beer. Sit and chat about nothing. Just be in our space together, where we are comfortable. Like two brothers. Like nothing has changed. Or ever will. This is what we do, and what I miss. The understanding that exists without words.

M

A secret

We just lost the damb rugby to damb England and I can't get to sleep. So I'm back here again while I cool down.

Time to let you in on a secret. Each Saturday, I make pizza for the family. No big deal, I've noted this before. The difference this time is that I'm going to give you the recipe for making the base. Now I've been doing this for a little while. Slowly perfecting my technique, here, there, until I get it just right. I'm no pro, but the pizza tastes damb good (there's that word again). And yes, the picture above is the very pizza from tonight. I was actually that impressed with it I just had to snap a shot. Well, actually, this is one of three I made, I always make enough for three. We used to eat all three, but now there's enough for left over. Tonight we had garlic bread too so there's a whole pizza left to have for lunch while watching Bathurst tomorrow. Go Skaifey. But I digress.

Here goes....

I use a bread machine to mix the dough. Slightly cheating, yes, yes, whatever. It works good and it saves on effort.

• I'm not sure if you're supposed to keep the yeast in the fridge or not, but I do. So step one, two teaspoons in the bowl.
• Then four cups of bakers flour. Plain flour is ok too but the result is just that little bit better with bakers flour. (....not self-raising flour!)
• Put in a slosh of vegetable oil. Now a slosh is actually a technical term. I'm not going to tell you exactly what it is, but I know exactly what my slosh is. Start with two tablespoons and experiment to find your slosh. It works better if you can customise your technique. I find the result is highly dependent on the slosh technique, what feels right. Trust yourself and fight the urge to measure. The love makes up for it.
• A few teaspoons or a couple of tablespoons of sugar. A bit like the oil, go with your gut on this. You must do this immediately after the oil, because the technique is all about flow. Good flow is good mojo.
• Salt: three pinches, using your pointer finger and thumb from your right hand.
• Lastly, add the water. 330mL exactly. This is very important to get the water to flour to yeast ratio correct. And equally important. DO NOT USE WARM WATER. It will fuck it up. Did you write that down? Underline it in red please.
• This will be enough to make three large pizzas. Scale to suit.

Now my machine takes two and a half hours to mix, nead, rest, nead, rest the dough. So have a beer and enjoy the footy.....

Once it's done I split into three and roll out nice and thin. Lately, I've been folding over a finger width of the edge, pressing it down to make the edge a bit thicker (notice in the photo?) and all like a bought one and all.

I use pizza stones too, to cook them on. Get these really froidin hot and whack the base right on there, then put your sauce and toppings on quick. Our standard fare is just tomato paste, ham, pineapple and pizza cheese (mixture or mozzarella, cheddar and parmesan). This is the family favourite. I really prefer my pizza with a Gyulai salami, fresh basil, and bocconcini but hey, you can't always have it your own way. Just like in the rugby.

I'm not sure whether to settle for supporting the kiwis now, or hope for a surprise with Fiji or Argentina. Just anyone but the poms. Goodnight.

You've got mail

Apparently..... I am a lover of contempory dance.
Excuse me?
Apparently..... I was a supporter of the 2007 Sydney Festival
Say what?
Apparently..... I am a friend of the Sydney Dance Company
Che?

You get all sorts of interesting things in the mailbox. This one was the best one for a while. Addressed to me, personally. The letter went like this.....

Dear Friend,

Many thanks for your support of the 2007 Sydney Festival. As a lover of contempory dance, we are pleased to extend a special offer from the Sydney Dacne Company to the return season of Graeme Murphy's Berlin at the Theatre Royal, Sydney.

etc

Now I don't have anything against contempory dance, the Sydney Festival or the Sydney Dance Company. But how the freak did you get my name and address? and why the freak do you think I am a lover slash supporter of said things?

Well all I can say Ms Gina Bowman; Manager, Marketing and Communications is fuck you very much. Your management of marketing and communications aint up to scratch!

Ten on Friday

Thanks mg, I'll just steal your idea for a post.

10 television shows you'd like to have (or already have*) on DVD

1. The West Wing*
Now, The West Wing is simply the best TV show of all time. If you didn't know this already, then I lay my pity upon you :) I miss you West Wing! A substitute is Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip. Not shown in Australia yet, and only one season made before it was axed.

2. Coupling*
Coupling is the most hilarious comedy of recent times. If you've been living under a rock and don't know what I'm talking about... Do yourself a Molly Meldrum.

3. The Sopranos*
The second best drama of all time. Looooved the ending.

4. Criminal Minds
Only in it's third season (just started in the US) but already a contender for the best crime show of all time.

5. The Ren and Stimpy Show
Need I say more. OK, I will. The original adult childish humour, rocks over Southpark any day. Don't wiz on the electric fence!

6. The Iron Chef (Japanese version)
Forget the US version, that's shite. Matsutake mushrooms are the bomb!

7. Top Gear
Hilarious and blokey at the same time. Perfection. Go the stig!

8. The Office* (UK version)
Another example where the US version blows. The chicken suit episode literally made my sides split. I was sore for a week!

9. Two Pints of Lager (and a Packet of Crisps)*
Not shown in Australia. 6 seasons in the UK, a bit like coupling but more pommy-ocker style. Takes some warming up to, but Corinthian rocks.

10. Gilmore Girls (for K)
When I'm busy doing something else.... :)

It's the question that brought you here

There is no spoon
Do you want to know what it is?
Welcome to the real world

Waffle wrapped waffle

And the moon rose, over an open field. And her face pressed tight and all around the night sang out like cockatoos. Watch out for the hitman. Can't take the smell, can't take the noise. Skyscraper, I love you. In the jungle, the mighty jungle. Everybody comes to a party, expecting a miracle. Who's laughing now? What the world needs today, a little spiritual healing. Wake me up low with a fever.


Excuse my ramblings. You know it's very easy to write when there's something on my mind. Or when something is going on. Or when I'm happy about something. Or when I'm confused. Or afraid. Or alone. Or excited. But what about the other 85% of normal time?


Boring!


That's right now. I could waffle on about some bullshit that no-one will want to read about. And for what? And for what? Or should I say; And for who?


Do my posts have a style? Is there some unique-ity about me? About what I write, or even about how I write? Or am I a Sergeant shmo?

If we could take the time to lay it on the line
I could rest my head
Just knowin' that you were mine
All mine
So if you want to love me
then darlin' don't refrain
Or I'll just end up walkin'
In the cold November rain

While stocks last... (Edit : Sorry, no rainchecks)

Edit : You snooze, you lose. Back to anon.... :-)

Bufferfly

Why thank you. Yes, I am very talented. Just another day at the office....

Who am I?

Who am I?

cdp at tortious posted a pic of herself after being tagged for The Face Behind the Blog and subsequently tagged all her readers. So Full Brain Readers; a poll...

Do you want to see what a bloke with a full brain looks like? Who is the M-meister?
Or would you prefer him to remain a man of mystery? Cast your votes now!

What I'll soon be listening to

Oblivion with Bells - Underworld

Very exciting... or is it just me?

Rehab

They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, "No, no, no" - Amy Winehouse

According to Wikipedia, there shiteloads of different types of rehab.
Here's some more I reckon there should be.....

Yeah-Yeah Rehab : For the non-hirsute.

Road-Rage Rehab : For those who get smashed in the face for cutting me off in traffic.

WorkChoices Rehab : For those fucked in the arse by Johnny's IR laws.

ACTU Rehab : For those soon to be fucked in the arse by Ruddy's IR laws.

Back-Door-Benny Rehab : For everyone else who's been fucked in the arse by the law.

Literary Rehab : If you needed to look up what hirsute means.

Blog Rehab : Where ciscobaby is.

Jitters Rehab : If there's too much coffee (too much caaawfey!)

Tigers Rehab : If you don't know who Back-Door-Benny is

Nymphomaniac Rehab : email me ;-)

Self Rehab: So I can "get over myself."

Any more? What rehab do you need?

I rode Percy

He's waaaaay better than Thomas.

Thomas is all huff and puff but no go-go-go!

Percy had more power,

he was a smoother ride, and

he lasted longer.

I'd ride you Percy, any day, over Thomas.

I don't know why all the boys love Thomas the best!

Yes, that's right avid readers. I spent today at a kids birthday party at the Train Shed (at Luddenham, Western Sydney). Great if you've got any kids aged 6 and under. (Shit otherwise!)