Thursday, November 24, 2005

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.”

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.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


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

"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
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
"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.

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.
Don’t ya just love spare time...