Time - performed by Sir Laurence Olivier

http://www.angelfire.com/fl3/Defymcbeth/Time4.html

You can find the original recording of this at the above link. I like it, it's soooo funny...

Time - performed by Sir Laurence Olivier

Stand before me on the sign of infinity, all you of the earth.

With the granting of the law of provinationcomes the application of change.
I will give you the key.And with this knowledge, please realise,

comes the responsibility of sharing it. I will show you the way.
It's very simple. Throughout the universethere is order.
In the movement of the planets, in natureand in the functioning of the human mind.

A mind that is in its natural state of order, is in harmony with the universeand

such a mind is timeless.
Your life is an expression of your mind.

You are the creator of your own Universe - For as a human being,

you are free to will whateverstate of being you desire through the use of your thoughts and words.
There is great power there.
It can be a blessing or a curse -It's entirely up to you.

For the quality of your life is brought aboutby the quality of your thinking -think about that.
Thoughts produce actions -look at what you're thinking.
See the pettiness and the envy and the greed and the fear and all the other attitudes that

cause you pain and discomfort.
Realize that the one thing you have absolute control over is your attitude.
See the effect that it has on those around you.

For each life is linked to all lifeand your words carry with them chain reactions like a

stone that is thrown into a pond.
If your thinking is in order, your words will flow directly from the heart creating ripples of love.
If you truly want to change your world, my friends, you must change your thinking.
Reason is your greatest tool, it creates an atmosphere of understanding,

which leads to caring which is love.
Choose your words with care. Go forth ... with love.

Another song...

Words from "Beauty, Truth, Love, Freedom, Peace"

AKASH:

Beauty ... Truth ... Love ... Freedom ... Peace ... These are your ideals. There is not one person on the entire Planet Earth who, in his right mind, doesn't want these in his life. So ... where do you go wrong? To find the solution, we must first identify the problem. Perhaps you wonder how much "free will" you have when you see yourself, for example, saying and doing hurtful things that you don't really mean. Why can't you seem to stop? You want to, you try to, your intentions are good. Is it habit or is it lack of understanding that keeps you bound to the pull of destruction? The mineral sources of energy upon your planet are almost depleted and yet the two greatest sources of energy remain almost untapped -- the sea and the sun. Furthermore, you seem content to allow the aggression of the weak by the strong. You seem content to allow a great part of your world to starve whilst for economics' sake food is left to rot or be destroyed. You seem content to allow the obscenity of the maimed and crippled who have to cope with broken lives after each confrontation of force. Your East and West have never even made the effort to conquer the basics necessary for people of different cultures to exist in harmony; that is, to respect your opposite's culture -- and what is more important -- their way of thinking. Even in your own life your thinking is not in order. These facts do not inspire confidence, do they?

Thanks to a lovely gall currently in Adelaide named Sarah, for this little culture tip...

Thx Sarah xx.

hummm...

I seem to remember something about writing being rewriting...

It is always fun though to see what ya brain wants to write when we don't bother to censor it.

Free flow of thought... Spontanious writing... Subconcious psycho babble...

Does anybody dare to speculate as to why our brains say what they do when unbridled from gramatical, legal, moral and social convention?

Why would ya bother, you may ask?

It IS interesting...

But from that last example, for Michael, perhaps difficult to read, you really have to focus and then it kind of becomes clearer...

Because Michael Asked For It – more of the Kerouac, Bukowski type stuff, but on the www...

And late tonight I sit at home on typing into a digital empire, the www, built and developed for the CIA, but stolen by the clutches of the multinational conglomerates, is there anything they cannot touch?

While out on the street 3 bald men in suits, well two were bald, the other perhaps a tupey, a toque, a tupik or a bloody turban, I can’t spell wig, but a tupik, I know, if I remember rightly, is made by a North American Indian, but probably not anymore, too busy gambling, and who fault is that, just leave the whole subject alone, we have privatising to finish, but shit who’s counting, I was, so fcuk you, walk arrogantly down my street as if they own the bloody thing, as if they wanted to own the bloody thing, their suits being new and freshly pressed, and pin striped, and probably paid for on a Black American Express card, on the back of slave labour, only stopping to gawk there, beading bleeding eyes at a left hand drive recently imported, freshly restored circa 1962’s French Citron, that would make the frog eaters jealous. They finger it longingly, ever so interested, in the beauty money can buy and isn’t grand to see the boys so very very happy, in the red light district, loving the throbbing machine. They might just respect a man because of the car he drives and lust a woman for the same reason, if they knew respect, but not if she’s in a bloody Honda civic, or a Suzuki Ingus, possibly the stoopidist vehicle on the road but that makes it great, cos ya can laugh at the stoopid, like falling over a banana peel, feet slipping and flying into the air as a pain ricochets through ya head and up through ya spine as the thump clunks a rip through all your memories making a tear or a tear, I’ll let you choose, that lasts forever…..and forever I heard, is a very very long time…

Amnesia, of course, caused accidentally on purpose, by the shite we don’t want to see, of the shite we don’t want to know about and I once read book, written by an ad man who said something about how, “It’s not how good you are, but how good you want to be,” but then who believes an ad man, some think them responsible, for what, all of our jobs? But let’s not take that up, can they be believed and who do you want to be, could that be a question, not if I put a full stop at the end of it. But the woman who showed me the book, flopping around in her plastic D cups, that will never ever age, not even when she’s a metaphoric prune, that I would of gladly died for and almost did, was a gold digging expert, a professional as such, put that on ya CV and see where it gets ya and of course, I had to fall in love with her and she wanted to marry me, but the Germanic derivative, who was only ever fun, sitting at the end of the day, at the end of my, please all faint hearted, look away now, cock, had a very bad case of I don’t give a flyin’ fcuk ‘bout nuttin’ but myself and it was funny how that took a very real talent and talent come in different sizes but you can’t find it in a shop that sells baggage and why whould you want one of them when every bodies got enough of their own to dish off on ya!

For the purists, this woman continued, was an interesting woman, cut from the mold of a Pamela Anderson crossed with a Hilton sister, but she’d talked like a Westy, but grew up in Manly, and had spent the last five years kept in a pad on the Upper East side and she could scare the life outta anybody, anytime day or night, if she darn well please, such was her most pleasant personality, as a rule, and she’d made a number of million AUD, that would take your whole hand to count ‘em, just from sitting on the end of rich mens dicks, and sorry to the faint hearted who missed the graphic language warning that time, as she complained all day long for not giving her an orgasm, but she’d had an encyclopaedic set of sexual experiences, I hadn’t even seen a porno cover of in the local sex shop, not that I’ve bothered looking, but from sharing our life’s stories, hearing hers, giving mine, such like out of museum was our love, or a celluloid flick, I’d make a bet with anybody and then I’d bet I’d win, that she’d bin there and done that and wanted to do it again but hey, I heard it said once there’s good in everybody…

Good for them, good for you, good for me, it’s all good…

PUBLIC VS. PRIVATE...

I find it funny how the more public something becomes, the more toned down or controlled it has to become...

Or at least, tends to become.

So as to not disrupt elements of the masses.

Thank god, say those in the public arena, for the P.R. agent or advisor,
that I can and perhaps have to, hide behind!

We have to get that rhetoric down pat, for fear of being misunderstood
and then set apon by packs of hungry hounds...

People are fantastic, one on one, but something sometimes happens
when you put a whole lot of them, together.

Just a thought.

Perhaps poignant, perhaps completely empty.

Regardless, enjoy.

NACKERED, but hey Whatever!!!

Outside all is black.

The thunder cracks loudly and the bright white light flashes soon after, to my hearts applause.

European backpackers, with whom I rub shoulder to shoulder with on a daily basis, complain that back in the mother country, the prescribed media vision of Australia, as sun drenched bronzed land all year round was, just that, a media vision.

Actually, nobody ever said that exactly,
they just complained, that they wern't getting what they expected.

And I just said, like all the locals think,

"enjoy it while it lasts, cos soon it will be gone and you'll be wishing it was
there again."
"Where's the sun gone?" says the scummy cockney lass who
thinks she's all that,
as she connives how to score your last $20 bucks from
ya wallet.
"I'm selling green energy, for amnesty international! Can I sign
you up?"

All around me are gutless, squirming, selfish, sexually frustrated imbeciles and Kate Blanchet’s success is to blame.

All I can see is the importance of real deep and meaningful friendships and that one special life partner, who's not as fcuked up as much as all the rest and she's got that special beauty busting out of her......ummm, bust.

Yes, I must be a mere mortal too.


I just got back home from…

Went to a crap, totally over rated art opening.

Possibly only rated by the artist themself and those who believe the shit the artist believes about themselves....

Some dude/dudette, (protecting the powertripping angry faint heated), whose lived in the hood for years, like so many of us, and likes to display their wonderfully active but very very shallow social life, painted some shite on canvas that left me wondering...

"why'd ya bother?!"

But then I can tell why they bothered. More concerned with impressing people, with the super ego and not trying to do anything artistic.

'Spose it all comes down to interpretation, but a solid backbone in art, in Sydney life, is sorely often missing these days.

But there is sooooooooooooooooo many artists!!

"What happened?!!

Comes down to understanding.

Has thrown some, what looks like good parties, this artist. A bit pretentious, a bit shallow, but hey, it might sell some art.

I would of hoped they had some real and supportive friends, but alas, all no shows...

The work was sooooo overpriced, but that’s ok, a bit of cocky arrogance can sometime help. It’s just that it’s just not good work.

God, I could be taking 'bout anyones work hey?



All this is soooo common...

Do we care, is it really all subjective, hear say opinion or public renoun, that matters, it definately helps, hey? Could the ten years or whatever it could take, someone put into understanding art, creating art, reading the right books, thinking deeply 'bout what art is, what it could be etc... mean they become a more significant artist? I reckon it helps, but how can we understand this...

Does it matter?

Hey we can always say,

"Whatever!"

So popular these days that word!

When are we saying it to something that actually matters or when are we saying it to something that deserves a whatever!!

"Whatever!" I hear some of you say now!

Well, "whatever back right at ya!"

Right now is a good moment for a, "whatever!"

While we're all in the mood for a "whatever" meaningless squabble regarding the price of,

"Whatever!"

And "whatever" 'bout those riots down on Cronnulla beach, and "whatever" 'bout IR policy, and "whatever" about those silly poor people, especially the ones who live on the other side of Norton Street and those original inhabitants of this country, and "whatever" as long as my ego is fed with "whatever" is feeding it today....

W h a t e v e r, right.

Quick!! Run out and buy a copy of Robert Hughe's, almost anything published, to get a good hold on the state of art in beautiful good old aussie.

Or don't care, don't worry and jsut say, or don't say, "WHATEVER!!"

This guy, Hughes, cuts the crap, but I don't think he should of been drink driving that night, up the way in W.A. but what's that got to do with what he writes???

Read his, I think it's titled, "The Cultural Cringe..."

Everybodies heard of it, but too many nobodies arn't thinking about it, so art struggles on for meaning!!

I had always believed art is,

"Something that elevates and revelates,"

but the question is still left to ask, elevates and revelates, what?

And why and how and for what purpose, and who and when....

And in answering some of these questions we get closer to seeing work, that then, is actually valuable.

If you don't get any of this driviless drivel then go back and read it again!

With ya thinking cap on this time.

And people don't realy see much depth in art these days, but only because it is often not there.


Is a pretty picture, which are great, a craft if it has no meaning? Rather then art?

Perhaps.

The good galleries can see it. They display significant work, where they can get it. And other galleries do well, other things...

Many people understand all this shite, I'm feeling the need to dribble.

But sadly, some people don't.

If it makes you disturbed, a bit angry, confused, then HEY, STOP RIGHT THERE AND ASK YOUR SELF,

"WHY AM I FEELING THIS WAY, AND THEN ASK YOURSELF DID I GET AN ANSWER?
AM I STILL FEELING DISTURBED, ANGRY, CONFUSED?"

Well, there in lies the real blame for your feelings, your misunderstood understandings...

And go no further!!

Sure really, nobody give a flying toss, right!

"Think I might go get myself a New!"

Just a thought.

Maybe poignant, maybe empty...

God why do I bother? You guys don't bother commenting?!

Just can't be bothered, or not so sure...

Hey, "Whatever!"

'Bout art again...

The people couldn't give a shite, they just don't buy it...

Or hey, sometimes they do.

They came to chat, and drink for free and to catch up with old friends, to be seen, just like me, blatering on, blatherful crap about blather blather, just to fill in time and so they could say they had a "Marvellous evening!!"

Or whatever... You know.

Thankfully, every once and a while you can actually hook up at a good art opening, something with some real substance. And we can always hope for more of that, hey...

For a second, I feel that their puny non existence actually means something.

That my puny non existence actually means something.

The thunder has stopped.
A plane creeks overhead.
Or rather a dull and monsterous roar.
Some other dickhead is stoked that he, or her for that matter, is out of this god forsaken city and looking to other horizons.

Wondering "what the fcuk," was that? When it was, a fashion brand euphemism - for lets get our rocks off real good baby! and the word "fuck" makes us feel so fuken good...

For a change we feel alive!

And in this semi-drunken and knackered state, I currently inhabit, I remember Charles Bukowski bouncing from side walk to side walk, from vodka to vodka in search of something to make him not give a toss, about the fact that nobody gives a toss and then just pats themselves on their darn shoulder saying,

"Oh, look how tough am I!"

Like some school kid in year 9, who just shat his pants.

They scream, "The POWER!! The POWER The POWER!"

"Gimmee da power tripper!!"

But really they are just peed of 'cos they don't have no real power and are looking for some meaning....

Where can I buy some??

Oh god darn it,

and we bother with the liars, and the wanna be high flyers, till the parties roll on and we forget how many we've been to in a single night. And ya best party mate, justs wants to go to the next one, cos he can’t seem to make this one good, and the pretty girl who he'd pay to shag if she offered, just says the stooopidist things, he made the offer, that will mean neither of us will get her, but that’s ok, cos he can always light another joint and smoke another pipe of ice, and crack, and meth and blat some looser into his eye socket in the hope that something, anything, might help him feel just one more feeling that he hasn't felt before and that girlfriend of mine so so so long ago who never ever communicated, and that was the good time because when she did, it was a high class, passive aggression full of pent up emotion she never understood and still doesn't understand, but hey, all right man, it's so cool, to know just how silly it all is and we all just want to get out of here alive, but none of us ever ever ever ever will!!

It's natural to get the downs sometimes, especially when you spend most your time having the ups, in your, delusional chasing something that matters, like I'm chasing, a dream, my dreams that I can make something matter and who can ever tell, what it all ads up to, and who gives a shite anyway, anyway?!

The cute gall I met during the week, who is now so sorry for being so like the Spanish Inquisition, rather then buttering me up is ringing me on the phone and yes she is cute but I'm older now and sex will not make me think they are the ants pants, when probably they really have ants in their pants and just make me want to scratch when no one else is scratching me...

But I still just give love…

As far as they can take and deserve it.

There are weird human howls outside,

and I think of the hookers who have to work these shitty streets for a hit of shit that they don't even want anyway, as the cops stalk them legally! Beady blood shot eyes peering from out of their vehicles, guns strapped to their utility belts and eat ya heart out batman…

And slowly I think of who would think what, of this stuff that I'm writing, but I know they can mostly never know...

And ignorance is BLISS, but ignorance is IGNORANCE and of course we ALL know everything all of the time and have it ALL GOING ON ALL OF THE TIME, cos we're the BEST at everything and anything cos we live in a town call KIDNEY or Alice or Timbuckbloodytoo doggies do do do...

And soooo do you, and I like environmentally friendly toilet paper, what sort do you use?

Bleached I bet.

I'm hoping that it rots up your hole and causing you bowel cancer and all your innards will have to be surgically removed and you'll have to spend the rest of your day shiteing into a paper bags being held by your resentful spouse and youth is wasted on the young, who don't spend it wasted!

But if ya still using it over the age of 25 five your a loooser baby with a capital "L" and that sounds like a real pain in the butt if I ever heard of one, or is it just mind fcuking DKNY GUCCI GUCCI GOO having fun?

I'm gonna blow now.

Have a website to design.

While my own sits and can't get finished cos I ain't got the time,

but perhaps this silly season,

if I avoid all the........ fun........ ? ....and whatever...



... and oh yeah,

have a nice day!

Or.... you guessed it.... whatever.

"No pain, no gain."

Whatever.

God, this word is sooooooo easy to use.....

But hey, smell the cheese and "Whatever, the day brings to you!!"

Whatever.

Have a nice, whatever!

Bye.

I'm going now.

Hang up.

No you hang up.

No, I really want to go now...... you.... (clunk)

(beep beep beep beep)

Whatever!

HIDE IT TILL YOU CAN'T FIND IT!!

THANK YOU FOR THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN READING AND HAVE SENT ME AN EMAIL...
TAKES COURAGE! HUGE THANKYOU'S, GO TO THE GUY OR GALL WHO MANAGED TO
POST A COMMENT OR PERHAPS TWO!! YOU BLOODY LEGEND!! GO AHEAD KNOCK
YOURSELF OUT PEOPLE - POST SOMETHING, ANYTHING - WE KNOW YOUR OUT THERE!!

"BE BOLD, BOLDNESS HAS GENIUS IN IT!!"
Geothe in BOLD.

TAKE NOTE OF THIS, COULD CHANCE YA LIFE....

ON WHAT PEOPLE DON'T UNDERSTAND -

"First they mock and become defensive,

turning it into a joke,

then they attack and become angry,

then they go into a state of paralytic denial,

blocking it out,

not having any feelings,

then finally after all this,
our beautifully atrophied grey matter kicks in

and we then accept and understand!!"

Paraphrased from Sigmund Freud.

Just though you might like to have a think 'bout it!??

I reckon this process takes some people bloody years to go through though...

Are YOU one of them?

Have a nice day!

AND REMEMBER YOU ROCK!!

...And keep the peace with your soul....

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF I.T.

There is a reason for those who know how to use computers well are thought to be super geeks!
This shite takes years of stress to nut out. Just when you think you’ve worked it all out, you come
up against something else that gives you a day of pure unadulterated frustration. Frustration
becomes your friend in the world of I.T. Graphic designers, Web Designers, Photo Shop artists
etc. deserve every single cent they make. They work through pain levels uncommon in any
other profession. I have spent weeks fixing a printer problem, months learning action script,
years learning the inner workings of XP and the list simply goes on and on and on…

AND THEN…

They bring out a new version of the software so you have to learn it all over again.

Errgh!

Anyway, such is life…

Just don’t ask me to fix your computer problem.

Being a super geek means you get to create art work after you gotten past all the I.T. issues
that arise. And once you’ve managed that you are only a tenth of the way there, perhaps
better to go out and sell your knowledge as a systems analyst at this point…


System Recovery error 456. E21 4000678

Please shut down your machine before you lose everything.



p.s. On the plus side, super geeks are also some of the smartest people I know!!

p.p.s. You have to be…

Those that are full of it....

Some people are so full of shit.
Some people cannot tell when some people are full of shit.
There is one guy I know, he drives hookers for a job, can never say anything of any value, because, he is so full off shit.
He is a constant and pathological liar and has been one ever since I have known him.
To be honest, I don’t believe I can ever remember him saying anything that was remotely related to the truth.
More issues than French Vogue magazine! He is past redemption, and at this old age will probably never ever look at or solve what he is. I believe he will continue, bullshitting everybody for the rest of his life and not ask why or see what is he doing!
I pity him, so lost in his own egolessness. See last post: wakelessness.

This guy, when working very briefly, in a book shop, couldn’t put the pre release big books, with the pre release big books, or the standard retail small books with the standard retail small books and so they sacked him. Big is big, small is small, how hard can it be?

Then he sent in a resignation letter to management, post his sacking, dumping on every body else in the store for what they had never said or done, in a very Mark Latham-esque, only not so literate style full of childish and deeply bitter sentiments,
“I got you back! I got you back! Narr-narr, narr, narr, narr!”

He can’t even read anyway. and his writing is totally shite...

This guy burns every bridge he has ever walked over and so all he can do is walk around pretending he doesn’t care, (how else could you live with yourself) and so he can manage the responsibility of driving hookers to their callout work. The first job he's ever had for more then 2 weeks.

To think of the fools he initially sucks in?!!

Don't think I am dumping on stoopid people, more those that are stoopid and meddle, creating chaos and mayhem, everywhere they go, while enjoying it!

Underneath, I think they must be miserable.

“It is a madman who tries to reason with a madman.”
Goethe.

Comments made in this blog entry bare no semblance to any person either alive or dead but rather bares the semblance to the majority of those persons both alive and dead. The dead we can feel kind thoughts for, the alive we can ignore.

JUST HAVING A LIDDLE SCRIBBLE...

I've started work on my manuscript again.

You know, that novel everybody has lying ‘round in their cupboard, sitting in some seldom opened file on their hard drive. I am enjoying it, but with work commitments (aka. the million chores that I just never knew would be there when starting a new and slightly complex media based business) I am constantly having to fight off the fact that I know, there is always something else I could and should be doing.

It’s deepening the soul, making me stronger for work, both on the ad. Agency and the book. Kicking my head into place, I mean, gently sorting out my thoughts, so that my esteem, strength, emotions and drive will not waver. I am gaining reserves of strength to spare, like tires of fat around the belly for winter, for want of a more flattering metaphor and gaining many new skills. The bigger the challenge the bigger the gain, or so it seems. Even if turning all this work into cash flow, at least in the past nine months, I sadly admit been somewhat slower then expected, and hasen’t necessarily gone perfectly to plan, I am definitely many many people hours, experiences, knowledge and skills closer to achieving a profitable and interesting day job.

This will shut the knockers, who are easily shunned, for their jealous and petty minded tomfoolery. I guess some people just don’t have the instinct to sit down and get something serious done. I mean get some serious meaning in their lives, make some serious choices, based on some serious facts and make it work! They would rather waste every bodies time, proving to me they have nothing better to do and make lame attempts at ribbing something they could never understand and I’m not about to tell them.

Welcome to the land of the wage slave.

“Girls just wanna have fun!”

There are advantages to this me thinks. You can relax at the end of the day, knowing your pay will come in regardless of what you do next week. You don’t have to worry about as much about a multitude of difficult little work practices, which I ‘spose, all depends upon the nature of your work. But then, do you die inside when your work becomes easy and the challenge is lost? You don’t learn as much, you earn less, you are always having to butter someone else’s bread and you have less challenges. Do we settle into old practices and habits that require little or no thinking at all, for less then $20 an hour?

Other stuff... Do we hide from having feelings, telling ourselves that we are stronger for it. But, what do we lose for this numbing, “I don’t give a shit attitude,” that is so common these days? I’m not sure, but it’s worth a thought. I like the idea of fighting hard against being a metaphorical repetitive “mechanical arm” in the Ford factory of life.

A cheap and polite labour source for those who get rich off our work. But alas, in a way perhaps, we are all, “Just a brick in the wall,” a cog in the machine, at the end of the day anyway…

F that I say!!

We have such a short life, getting shorter by the second, lets make it count for something hey?

I have some friends, who are Doctors. GP’s. Ooooo a capital letter occupation, society tells us we should respect our Doctors. I’m not sure why though, necessarily...

I find it funny how we give respect based purely on “occupation” and not what’s behind the “title.”

“What’s your complaint? Say “Arrrrgggh!” “Arrrrgh….”

“Ooooo, young gall, you have very inflamed tonsils,
therefore you have a cold, here’s a prescription for
antibiotics..."

"Don’t try to read it!"

Or “Your blood test says you have high cholesterol,
here’s a prescription, for…” ….whatever brings down cholesterol. .”

(Look up the latest online…choose you pharmaceutical company…
the one with the best marketing….)

Or “A sprained ankle, a fractured thumb, migraines, a blown
out anus thrombosis, just bend over, I think I’ll send you to the specialist for
that one. "

“While I’d love to stick my finger up your butt, I do have other patients to
see…"

Mes thinks it could get a tad boring sometimes, this job. I ‘spose like any other one, depending on how you look at it, right? But the pays good for doctors, the respect you get is a plus, even if it’s possibly unwarranted, but doesn’t the spirit crave much more… Perhaps not.

It’s seems funny to me how we give power to certain job descriptions. Just because they are particular jobs, we believe what they say over people in other occupations. Everybody has something to offer, I had always thought. There is a hierarchy of responsibility and therefore consequence, in life’s occupations, but there is little understanding or governance of who or why or what is really happening in this job, by this worker. I mean, how do we see into and behind the title, the facade.

If the shite hits the fan people wind up in court, where people lie through their teeth to protect their negligence. We are living in such a increasingly legally regulated world, and in and around that you can do or be or play whatever darn well you please…

But why? What’s the point of all this? Why is this so? What does it make of us? What does it do to our short lives and minds? It definitely controls our behaviour. It seems to give most people I know a duality, a double life, and so it turns them into atrocious liars!! So as to avoid the blame our authorities can so quickly place on their subordinates. Tio make us feel etter about who we are...

"Fake it, till ya make it!"

Have you got a pill for that Dr?

Depending on the prognosis, right or wrong, you have the legal right to
challenge, you can shop around for a diagnosis. You can also shop around and get
different and contrasting legal opinions! Is there a better solution? Everything
come down to a matter of interpretation. But this is what it says in the big
medical book…. And so life goes around…

“Nothing is right or wrong, but thinkin' makes it so.”
Willie Shake the Sphere.

I’m blathering, don’t worry about that…. I was up at 3 last night sending an email to a friend who loves animals so much more then people, she works with animals too, everyday….

I wrote to her,

“Animals are as charming and rare in this city as people with
real feelings. People who still bother to be able to express them as an adult,
are like gold in this city, yes, I am blathering, sleep writing, in my
wakelessness…

"Like I am caught in a Dali painting, verging between awake
and sleep… wakelessness…”

I like that word. It hasn’t been written in any book, it’s not even a word! People don’t even know “Wakelessness” even exists. Well it does now, says I. As a recognised writer, I could coin new words to describe new things, as long as a group of people wanted to read what I was writing. As long as those at the Oxford dictionary press of the McQuarry mob, felt it should now be a word.

Defn:
Wakelessness- just made up right now, artistic, psychology. The
condition of being awake while being asleep. Simile: The mental state the late
painter Salvador Dali (1904-1989) who would utilize this in attempting to
capture his inner most dream images in his oil paintings. He would place a heavy
silver spoon on his knee, and when he would sleep at his easel sitting on a
stool, the spoon would drop to the ground waking him up and so he could continue
to paint in this, “Hypnotic state”, caught between awake and sleep.

Job description? “Wakelessness.”

It might be nice to make a living from that.

OVER AND OUT.

Don’t ya just love spare time...

WHEN SOCCER BECAME FOOTBALL!!

Guess what?

(Get prepared to sing loudly!!)

“AUSTRALIAS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP, THE WORLD CUP, THE WORLD CUP, AUSTRALIAS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP, LA DI DA DI DA!!!!”

And that just makes me feel grand.

I don’t usually watch sport during the normal season, but I used to…

These days I occasionally, check the ladder/leader board and stuff in the paper or at the end of the news... Just to see how the old teams are fairing.

I am quite over burning in the sun for five days, applying bottles of coconut oil and listening to millions of tapes on a Walkman, (Ipod these days) while Merve Hughes scratches his balls, with the ball… I have done that and perhaps would again, given the right opportunity, but not in any hurry, I mean, where do people find the time?

But me thinks there will be something good to come out of Australia qualifying for the world cup. The World Game – as FIFA call it - the game that most countries play. Except us - until now! It's not a bad sport soccer or football - you choose... Those fast legs squabbling all over that round piece of leather. It's very simple. Don't use your hands, get it in the goal, keep in within play, don't break anybodies shins, at least not too hard, let the ball go first, then you follow it, not the other way round and that's pretty much it...

I reckon - It helps give the country a global status, a global respect, it's probably good for the economy - being in the world cup, of the world game. Who said sport and politics shouldn’t mix, probably the same people who say NEVER TALK ABOUT POLITICS OR MONEY!?

I've noticed, there is never a high profile sporting occasion that a polly in power doesn’t use to grab a photo or quote opportunity. While the opposing party leader seethes to get in on the positive, feel good and fluffy media coverage, for a change, but is never ever invited.

Anyone smell a problem?

The papers and TV media were riddled with Howard’s quotes from a South Korean hotel regarding the game last night. Also the NSW premier's Iemma's scored his two bits worth.

4-2 in penalty shootout!!

Who doesn’t remember, Bob Hawke, dripping in tears, drunk as a koala up a eucalyptus tree, wearing a white dinner jacket all covered in Aussie flags, the night Australia II and my home town of Fremantle brought the America’s cup down under?

Winning, on a tie breaker, I believe, after being two down in the start...

Oh sailing… Wherefore art thou, kayak?

At the next Rugby League or union match final, watch very little John, carefully positioned for camera, congratulating the players of both teams, hand open, giving a solid shake, (for a weedy kind of man) permanent grin sprayed onto his mug…

He’ll be at the world cup, I bet ya!

Errgh…

Anyway, let’s keep it pos!!

(Everybody singing now)

“AUSTRALIAS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP, THE WORLD CUP, THE WORLD CUP, AUSTRALIAS GOING TO THE WORLD CUP,LA DI DA DI DA!!!!”


Oooowah – feels good doesn’t it?


Have a nice day!

***LATE BREAKING NEWS ***

GIVING CREDIT WHERE CREDITS DUE.

Apparently, the police officers were very few in number today and no arrests were made or riot gear worn. Perhaps because they work hard and long enough hours as it is too, like so many others...

Well done the boys and girls in blue!!

A pat on the shoulder to you!!

HELECOPTERS PROTECTING OUR RIGHT TO DISSENT.

My two bit bitch it session - with choppers churning real load outside... Pissing me right off...

READ ON...

Isn’t it funny how the word decent, is so similar to this word dissent?

Perhaps it’s just me but can anybody else see the connection?

Perhaps dissenting from the established rule of things means there is ONLY one way to GO - being DECENT?!

In a weird kind of way, sometimes I think, it is beautiful living in Darlinghurst. There is, between the cracks, within the shadows, remnant ghosts, of its former bohemian, creative and diverse past. Ghosts barely hanging on, for their dear life.

Affectionately titled by locals and “visitors in the know” alike, DARLING-IT-HURTS, survives more on a wild and thought provoking reputation than by a wild and thought provoking creative reality these days. Darling-it-hurts is fast becoming a clean cut, renovated and time conscious community. For better or for worse. These days, the locals now work in the occasionally respectable professions of advertising, public relations, publishing, TV production, graphic/web design, corporate accounting, CEO management skills development and venture capitalism. This is a small cross section of my friends and acquaintances’ chosen professions. There is though, still a splattering of actors, photographers, taxi drivers, hospitality workers, and the all too too, far and few between, professional screen or playwright and those aspiring to such heights. Also to be found, those who are probably responsible for her nick names sake – although, almost driven out, are the sex workers (a suitable euphemism for prostitute) and very occasionally, their well mannered minders (a very PC euphemism for pimps.)

We all deserve some respect afterall.

And ahhh yes, the girls drivers, ( like everything else in Darling-it-hurts, you can get sex home delivered to!) Oh, and drug dealers, let’s not forget the wonderful service they can provide, when it's available… Or so I've been told...

But what I really love about living and working in dear old Darlinghurst 2010, is not the 24 hours 7 days a week watering holes. Or the plethora of alternatively and multiply sexed homo sapiens’, (Darlo is after all the biggest gay and lesbian ghetto in the Southern Hemisphere), or the busiest bustling late night streets, by far in the entire country. No, not at all!

I say, what I really troooly love about the old girl, must be the continuous noise of police helicopters “protecting??” thousands of industrial relations protesters who have the self conviction and courage to take to the CBD streets in an attempt to protect their lively-hoods, from quick and indiscriminate dismissal and shocking work conditions, under Johnny's Australia, just this morning...

Can you hear them right now? If not, you mustn’t be living in Darlo.

“How dare they protest, hey?”

“Especially in this world climate of fear and terrorism!”

The many and visible NSW police force members in the area, have long used “the veiled (or not so veiled) threat” of arrest, (which they do go through with, don’t worry about that), as a form of regulating the good citizens from their more controversial behavior in it’s many and varied forms. I find it somewhat unnerving, to see two or three police choppers hovering overhead in surveillance or tactical maneuvers and like always these days, during civil protest. Or am I to feel safer for their presence?

The choppers, together with the armed, shielded and battened officers on the ground, including the mounted horse officers’, conducting seemingly random arrests of those who act slightly out of the ordinary, serve as a rather strong deterrent to those who may want to protest. Looking out over my balcony, it is somewhat reminiscent of the Directors cut of “Apocalypse Now.”

"What a beautiful day!"

“Let it be known! Bring on the water cannons and tear gas!!”

So thank-you, for keeping my senses on alert this morning, the view of your skilful maneuvering in your flying mobiles is quite gratifying and warming to my heart and soul. Better still, I look forward to the next run of F-18 fighter pilots in formation overhead, always beautifully displayed on Australia day and ironically after a new terrorist attack in Bali. God bless. The air forces F-18’s were particularly impressive immediately after that equally engrossing S11 incident a few years back. Nothing like a bit of broken sound barrier, low overhead in a city, to let you know who’s boss! I’m going for my heavy duty ear plugs, thank-you and remember, GOD SAVE OUR QUEEN!!

FIRST BLOG ON SYDNEY BLOG!!

Dear the people of the PLANET EARTH,

This blogging thing seems to be an effective way of voicing all sorts of STUFF, to all sorts of people in, all sorts of places...

And there is loads going on all over these days right?

I'll be giving some thoughts on things that seem appropriate to air from Darlinghurst, Sydney,
Australia. (For those that don't know - that's inner city Sydney)

Please join me and post freely whatever is on your mind regarding the posts you find here!

And ENJOY!!