My Russian Bride. (Advertorial)

Please allow me to run this little ad…

FOR SALE. Single Russian Bride, 21 years old, never married. Is keen to marry me, or so she claims. A diligent e-mailer. Sends many photos. Likes to cook and read. Is wild in love but a lady, socially. Willing to immigrate to Australia for love. Writes and speaks good English. Is educated and works for a very good Marketing firm in Moscow. Claims to be very warm in Winter and always very friendly.

SOLD?
I for one, believe her. She does look very warm. She has asked me to pay her air fair and suggested she can come live with me. How considerate of her. The only problem is, that I get the feeling that if you are willing to pay her air fair and the such, she might be willing to marry you and immigrate to Australia for love too!! That’s soooo good of her. I must say she does have a way of making one feel... very special?! Perhaps any interested parties could share her air fair with me. We could syndicate her. I will offer to put her up at my place. One of us might want to marry her!? She may perhaps be very fun and we could share her?!!

Simply email me here to confirm your interest!!

Please forward this email to possible interested parties.

Only serious offers need apply.
Let’s do this!!
The bidding starts NOW!
She seems like a very nice girl…

Ashton House

Had a great night last night. Did a photo shoot in Ashton House. It's this heritage listed mansion in Elizabeth Bay, above Bare Park, near the house called Boomerang or there bouts.



It sits on top of a dark and ominous grassy hill...

Soooo spooky...

We climb the forgotten relics of old sandstone terraces to gain entry to the grounds.

The whole building is locked, except a set of French doors that are jammed shut by an ornate marble table.

We push hard on the doors, the table eventually sliding aside behind them, dragging along the timber floorboards. Inside, all is black, we could hardly see a thing, only shadows, shadows that move. Shadows that peer at you from out the corner of your eye. Shadows grabbing your attention, when you really don't want them to. All is impeccably quiet in the centre of bustling Sydney City. How strange to not hear, anything...

A cool light breeze flows off the nearby harbour.

Scratching scurrying rats like elephants with teeth and claws. My friend, she screams. Coooing pigeons. Going ballistic low over out heads. Pigeon shite everywhere. Flapping, tattered sheets of black roof cover, out side of darkened windows hiding in every corner. "I don't like rats! I really don't like rats," she says. Four stories of endless grand derelict 160 year old architecture to get lost in.

Our heart skippin beats and racing...

Oh you gotta love it.

Will have to post some photos when they are developed.

Surely to have images of past dead inhabitants of Ashton house etched in the emulsion.

Poetry Is...

Written in the cab on the way to hosting a poetry evening in a Kings Cross's Melt bar, recently...

Great fun was had by all...




Poetry Is...

Poetry is,
two lovers newly met,
hot,
on a scorching high summer’s night,
above, the only witness,
moons light watches blue,
the playing naked frolics,
salty sweat beading lightly,
over lickable silhouettes,
a patter of green grass by the embankment,
laying down under bare feet,
as wondrous giggles beam from a bubbling bustle,
and hand in hand they dive,
into a spontaneous infinity of possibilities
flowing ever forward...

To be continued, in a suburb near you...

A little while ago, in a suburb not far from where you live, there was this guy who had a big trusting heart, and an equally big ego to suit. The existence of his healthy ego wasn’t without some legitimate reasons, afterall ego is not always a bad thing, and the guy had some definite rare and definable assets, that couldn’t be ignored and those helped the ego thrive. Such is what egos tend to do in towns all over the world. Unfortunately though, egos rage heavier when the heart, head and ego, don’t really understand each other. This guy came to realise over time, the ego is often one way people try to bandage up what they don’t really understand, to make things feel better, to feel happier and that sometimes this can be damaging to ones self, and that this is most common amongst many people.

His big heart helped him to legitimately care and feel deeply and encouraged him to help out on all sort of things, for all sorts of people, in his world without thinking about his own needs. Where as his big ego, gave him the courage to take bold unselfish dives into places he probably sometimes shouldn’t be meddling. As this guy wasn’t afraid to do it his own way, despite how everybody else viewed things and no doubt, he was always definitely, having fun.

He wasn’t one to shy away from drama, he was a trained and quite gifted actor after all, he quite rightly loved acting, yet hadn’t always gotten out of it what he had put into it and drama in life doesn’t necessarily assist drama occurring on stage.

Drama being what drama is, every once in a while he would fall in love and this would make him a fool. A real big fool, to be precise. Yes, he would become a fool for love and he definitely wasn’t the first to do this and he will unfortunately not be the last. But he fell for all the wrong girls and stayed with them for all the wrong reasons, denied their lies, lies, lies and actions, and got caught up in their lives. He helped them to achieve their dreams and placed aside his own, but still, he was definitely having fun, but he was ignoring his own needs. He learnt, in all good things in life there is a fine art of balance required, and without this balance things would not continue to coexist eternally.

Then came a point in his life, where the heat got too hot to handle, the girls kept turning up not worth the sharing of his big heart and his ego became understood by his mind and under his control, rather then being controlled by it. He had to accept he had made some mistakes that he never wanted to make again and wasn’t going to, he had to do like almost everybody else did and look after number one and in that way he could even look after others better! He had to make use of what he had best to offer the world.

He had come to remember, something he had forgot about, how interesting other peoples ways were and even more importantly, that many people can really only do others harm. Somewhere, some people had forgotten how to love and their egos had become a toxic disease to all the people around them. These people, he realised are best ignored by everybody. Let them suffer on their own. Time is too short to spend it fixing other’s confusion, when we have our own to sort out and especially when some people only understand cruelness as kindness, such are some people cut out. You can only give if they are ready to receive it.

He learnt how, life is such a complex place and there are many many ways of doing and looking at things that it can take much time to learn how to truly be ourselves and adapt to the multitude of situations we can face, with a healthy awareness and skill.

He realised, there are usually reasons for most everything; and things may be understood and taken from many different angles and understandings; yet some angles are truer then others and better still, others are more helpful. He came to realise how to think on his feet and control his own growth and direction and be happy being his own man by all by himself. Other people would have to take a second spot to what he had to offer. And the story of his life continued…

The Daily Truth

I thought this article on Russell Crowe was quite amusing, it's titled -

I WAS RUSSELL CROWE'S STOOGE.

@

http://www.smh.com.au/news/national/when-i-was-russell-crowes-stooge/2006/06/06/1149359738242.html

http://www.pen.org.au/

On the subject of writing and publishing subject matter, please check this out....

http://www.pen.org.au/


OR


Click http://www.pen.org.au/docs/join2006.pdf to join.


I'm a member. So could you be.


I love these guys and galls.

Histrionic Personality Disorder.

The Life Story Perspective of Histrionic Behaviour
Childhood

Inconsistent parenting style: alternation between insensitive non-involvement and rewards for exhibitionist behavior.

The HISTRIONIC PERSONALITY DISORDER is identified by the following morphological and constitutional features in the hand. The manifestations of this disorder with regard to patterns of behavior and patterns of attitude would be as outlined in the DSM lll and DSM lV.

Please note: a diagnosis of Histrionic Personality Diagnosis of an individual whose hands are not one with the above photographs, or with the features as detailed below, will, in all instances, be an erroneous diagnosis.

1. The texture of the skin at the back of the hand is particularly coarse and unrefined. This feature is always very pronounced.
2. The dermal texture of the palm itself is very fine. The ridges and furrows that make up the surface of the palmar skin would be relatively difficult to distinguish. The smoothness of the palmar skin would be in inverse proportion to the coarseness of the skin at the back of the hand. This feature is always very pronounced.
3. The knuckles are always pronounced.
4. A certain rigidity describes the constitution of the fingers.
5. The hands are of a generally hard and muscular constitution.
6. The tip phalanges of the fingers would tend to be rounded and mildly tapering. (This feature may be considered a variable).
All authentic instances of Histrionic Personality Disorder will display these features. A diagnosis of this disorder in a male subject would invariably include an additional diagnosis relating to gender uncertainty.

Erroneous Value-judgments

Histrionic personality disorder is a typological representation of bad character, of a vicious disposition formed by habitual passion. Passions are, or are the results of, erroneous value-judgments. The objects of passion listed below (derived mostly from Beck, Freeman, and associates, 1990, pp. 50-51) are external, indifferent things that the Histrionic personality incorrectly judges to be good or bad .. (Evolutionary Psychology and Behavio r Genetics provide adequate scientific explanations of the origins of these impulses.) The cure of Histrionic personality disorder will require correcting these habitual, erroneous value-judgments by making proper use of impressions.

Feelings. Dramatic men and women live in an emotional world. They are sensation oriented, emotionally demonstrative, and physically affectionate, They react emotionally to events and can shift quickly from mood to mood.

Color. They experience life vividly and expansively. They have rich imaginations, they tell entertaining stories, and they are drawn to romance and melodrama.

Attention. Dramatic people like to be seen and noticed. They are often the center of attention, and they rise to the occasion when all eyes are on them.

Appearance. They pay a lot of attention to grooming, and they enjoy clothes, style, and fashion.

Sexual attraction. In appearance and behavior, Dramatic individuals enjoy their sexuality. They are seductive, engaging, charming tempters and temptresses.

Engagement. Easily putting their trust in others, they are able to become quickly involved in relationships.

The spirit is willing. People with Dramatic personality style eagerly respond to new ideas and suggestions from others.

Madame Bovary

In an essay about the novel, Madame Bovary, Erica Jong says that the heroine "dies because she has attempted to make her life into a novel":
Emma Bovary is deluded by literature. Because she is in search of ecstasy and transcendence, she falls madly in love with a cad, then with a coward, ignoring the plodding husband and child who both adore her. She is looking for a higher, more spiritual life than the one available to her as the wife of a bourgeois country doctor, and in this quest she finds only self-destruction. We identify with her because we too look to fantasy for salvation. If Emma Bovary, with all her self-delusion, still stirs our hearts, it is because she wants something authentic and important: for her life to have meaning, for her life to bring transcendence.
A lengthy excerpt, compiled by Mark S. Micale in Approaching Hysteria (pg. 226) from a number of passages in the first half of Madame Bovary, supports this idea:
Emma was becoming capricious, hard to please. She would order special dishes for herself and then not touch them; one day she would drink nothing but fresh milk; the next, cups of tea by the dozen. Often she refused absolutely to go out; then she would feel stifled, open the windows, change to a light dress....She no longer hid her scorn for anything or anyone; and she was beginning now and then to express peculiar opinions, condemning what everyone else approved and approving things that were perverse and immoral--a way of talking that made her husband stare at her wide-eyed....She grew pale and developed palpitations....Some days she chattered endlessly, almost feverishly; and such a period of overexcitement would suddenly be followed by a torpor in which she neither spoke nor moved....Her carnal desires, her cravings for money, and the fits of depression engendered by her love gradually merged into a single torment....She reacted to the drabness of her home by indulging in daydreams of luxury and to matrimonial caresses by adulterous desires....Such a crisis always left her shattered, gasping, prostrate, sobbing to herself, tears streaming down her face....A woman who had assumed such a burden of sacrifice was certainly entitled to indulge herself a little. She bought herself a Gothic prie-dieu and in a month spent fourteen francs on lemons to blanch her fingernails; she wrote to Rouen for a blue cashmere dress; and at Lheureux's she chose the finest of his scarves....She decided to learn Italian; she bought dictionaries, a grammar, a supply of paper. She went in for serious reading--history and philosophy....But her books were like her many pieces of needlepoint: barely begun, they were tossed into the cupboard; she started them, abandoned them, discarded them in favor of new ones...."I have a lover! I have a lover!" she kept repeating to herself, reveling in the thought as though she were beginning a second puberty. At la st she was going to know the joys of love, the fever of the happiness she had despaired of. She was entering a marvelous realm where all would be passion, ectasy [sic], rapture....She remembered the heroines of novels she had read, and the lyrical legion of those adulterous women began to sing in her memory with sisterly voices that enchanted her .. Now she saw herself as one of those amoureuses whom she had so envied: she was becoming, in reality, one of that gallery of fictional figures; the long dream of her youth was coming true.
This need to have another life, an ideal life--the need to be other than what one is--is a manifestation of Histrionic perfectionism.


This list represents careers and jobs people of the Histrionic type tend to enjoy doing -

information-graphics...
designer/ college professor /researcher /legal mediator /social worker /holistic health practitioner /occupational therapist /diversity manager /human resource development specialist/ employment development specialist /minister/priest/rabbi/missionary/ psychologist /writer / poet/novelist /journalist/ editor/art director/ oganizational development specialist


Interesting.... xx

My bit: Often, these are the galls you hook up with, when you hook up with galls who stand from the crowd and come up to you easily, in Sydney bars late at night and eventually it all goes pair shaped, because there so darn agressive and easily impressed at the same time...

Emotional Rescue is in the mail...

Met this guy, had a few ambers, a coupla giggies. He had a maniacal laugh when chats got good and had recently been badly bashed by threes dickheads, wearing Aussie rugby league blazers. Has a steal plate in his face now. Beautiful stuff. He seemed to think that people create a load a drama that they just don’t need.

Whatzz-that?

That we spend all our time on, “emotional blackmail. I just haven’t got the time for it!” he says and that’s the bulldust we give to each other to cause each other grief. It’s an attempt to force each other into positions we wouldn’t perhaps already occupy.

But the problem is nobody, NOBODY, likes to be forced to do things, nobody…

“That’s not how you make porridge!”

When it’s all broken down, the bulldust and troubles with others and the there abouts, we just got the bullshite that is emotional blackmail and that creates the drama. And it’s as simple as that. We love the drama, ‘cos what else is there to tell our friends? What else is there to talk about? What else breaks the monotony of a regular work life? So we make the drama? We hunt for the drama, we cry and fight and scheme and push on with the drama. The stories of ups and downs of our own life, desperately avoiding the stability, the endless capacity for love and getting stuff done, clouding the unique simplicity of the truth with a million and one grabs at something else we don’t have, forgetting to enjoy what we do have and learning to trust we can make more of the good. There is more to it, but… I’m thinking there’s something in it.

I met this guy, my friends, had a few ambers, a coupla giggies, and this one goes out to the one I love, if only she knew and knew how…

Woollahra

On the edge of this big old park, there's a great little place called Woollahra. In the middle of this great little place there's this local called, The Woollahra. Out back of The Woollahra, there's an even smaller place simply called, the Back Bar. It's a real treat. It's the smokers bar, the pool table bar, the people's of Woollahra, bar. It's got a cigga machine and a room off the side where the pokies hardly ever get played. Scores of interesting folk frequent.

Have gotten familiar with a certain Executive Producer of news and current affair on a certain TV network. A very intense man, driven wholly by a ragin' ego. Take the piss of him, as some of the drinkers have and you get a quick and intense threatening stare, forcing the culprit to back down. A mwith ourour a sense of humor perhaps? He can be a very moody fellow, but I like his work, has greater depth than his rivals. A certain new CEO of an old network plus board members frequent. Am making vague acquaintance, it's all "mate" and stuff. I'm not sure I really like him and I'm not actually sure if anyone else does either. But an old ruthlessly ambitious friend or mine did say how much she would love to "blow him." There is also a smattering of old Aussie actors and the sorts. You'ld know 'em.

There's an old journo who has been writing a weekly business column, in some mag, for 40 years now, just tonight he let slip that Jewish people can be otherwise named a 5 by 2 or a Jew. It's kinda naughty funny but some people choose not to have senses of humour bout some stuff. Gotta love a rhyme. He also let out bout, "When the fan hits the shit!! WHEN-THE-FAN-HITS-THE-SHIT!!" I like that line. There's a gall who runs round with a big bag a coke, who never has no money but surprisingly always gets loans for the pokie machines. She's been a load a fun on several occasions, but wouldn't pick her cherry if it was the last one on earth. Not even if shed dished up that whole bag in one sittin', but a lovely lass nevertheless. She reckons the Back bar is the loneliest place on Earth, but I'm thinking it's that little bag a white talking, it's white magic talkin'. They got each other in the back bar. They got each other, any night of the week to share a coupla drinks with and that's just the way they likes it.

Further down the street, at an earlier hour, everybody without money in Woollahra seems to deal in second hand furniture that they pick up from the council throw outs, it seems. They have a lot of time on their hands, Council throw out only comes every couple a months. There is a load of flash antique shops along Queen Street. But those places make money, apparently.

There's this fab coffee shop, that must make a million coffees a day, so is it so regularly visited. People lining up all down the road. And darn, they's be the best bloody coffee's in the whole town, I must say. A morning giggy (sic) and a soy latte with a whole load of honey and ya start the day with a great BIG SMILE. Everybody's happy in Smurfville, Woollahra. Something bout the air. All that Centennial Park greenery giving off anti-oxidising negative ions or somethink. Perhaps they get out jogging more round here or do the gym more. I know it's not that, but I think they feel like the chosen few. The special souls. The lucky ones. There's just something bout the place, that's hard to put a finger on. Perhaps it could be all that stuff that grows on trees bobbing round, soothin' their peaceful souls...

On Dreaming and Delusion...

Ok. So ones attitude to things has a lot to do with a lot of things… Anything you want really. Our attitudes to things completely create how we live in the world and how we receive what we do and what happens to us. But it’s got to be real. There in lays an interesting conundrum.

Understanding who we are is largely dependent on finding what makes us special. What are we best at and what are we missing. Our attitudes to what befalls us in our lives can be utterly controlled by us for our own benefit, allowing us to grow forward into who we want to be. When we understand where our particular talents lie, then examine our attitudes towards all the beautiful and wonderful shite around us, in regards to these things, we can do as we want without too much grief or time management problems…

I’m sure many of you have understood that for years now…

Mr Shindler’s List, Thomas Keneally said on some TV program recently something like, “That writing is very much a delusional state of mind. That writer’s can get carried away in all sorts of zany, hallucinogenic places.” I think it’s definitely the same for actors. Actors can get carried away in all sorts of weird shite. Least of all work shortage and a roller coaster type of life. The bigger they are the harder they fall, someone said. After all, if your prime occupation is to fantasise states of being, dreaming up or embodying someone else, then where have you got to go but out and away in beautiful La La land…. And I don’t mean Los Angeles, unless of course your lucky and take your bets that way.

So when we eventually work out our own shite, we work out how to stay in the land of the real for longer periods of time and can make appropriate decisions from there… We’re much more effective that way…

I love dreamers. They way they float away someplace else and become hard to contact. We’re their own beliefs come to out weigh everyone else’s’, at least in their own mind. It’s scary stuff for most people.

Going out with dreamers can be hard. Depending on how dreamy they are and how often and where they are at in their current dream cycle. Trust is important in personal relationships. Trusting some dreamers can be very difficult.

My last long term, with a beautiful dreamer left me seeing her walking drunkin across Oxford Street, a couple of days before her birthday, staring at the sky, stars in her eyes, oblivious to my needs, yet direly keen to see me… I knew shed been off playing and partying with someone else. It was so obvious. She had flowers, but wouldn’t tell me where she’d got them from. She really was never the sort to settle for long, preferring to flitter around, spreading herself thinly to those who grabbed her fancy this evening or that….

Ow.

A friend had just told me about an increasingly more prevalent kind of women in Australian urban society, the Okkaette. Women who’s prime fun in life is to drink till blind drunk then screw whoever grabs their fancy when pissed. They are really common these days in inner city Sydney. Sounds like a treat until you decide to settle down with one.

Oppps… Mate, I tell ya don’t even bother. Don’t worry ‘bout what ever you think her particular charms may be. The Okkaette and her mates are a no win situation. They are far too drunk and keen not to give a darn bout what ever plans you might harbour for a decent working relationship. They claim it’s a reaction to feminism.

It's never been that hard for most women to get lucky, if you know what I mean? So a women is pretty lame if they want to get lucky all over town, I figure. I mean there is little challenge in it, so why bother? In our culture women get to dress up all pretty like and act attractive to the opposite sex. Flirting is fairly acceptable in most places. It makes fidelity difficult, attracting all that attention. But how admirable, women who can negotiate this stuff. Or at least talk about what's going on for them. If they can't, you know their hiding something.

If they ask you questions like, “But why do you think I sleep around?” Or “Why do you think I lie?” They are simply trying to correct their behaviour so as to con their numerous men more! Their really not that bright.

I know I can here it now calls of "misogynist!!" going out from all the women reading this... Hey, read it again and think about some of the girls you know. I only write this in the belief that people, underneath it all, want long term and substantial lovers anyway. We all want to be loved and just trying to clear some of the crap stopping this…

If women believe they can duplicate some Aussie male stereotype that has hardly existed for decades, was perpetuated by women’s fear in the first place and concerns some of the less desirable male members and human traits in our culture anyway. From my experience, their numbers are very small and they are usually unrefined and uneducated in countenance, being fairly closed minded and judgemental, which is great if that’s your cuppa tea. But it gets scary when the number of professional, so called socially aware, women behaving this way today begin to far out weigh the men doing it…

Just add booze, or e or ice or coke... You get, instant easy slut factor!!

…And all while they have lovers, they propose to care about, on the side.

Nothing good can come of this.

Let me know if you think I'm wrong!!

Admittedly, it is a difficult thing to gauge.

But you can see it when you come across it, the Okkaette.

The woman, Aussie Jobbo easy to pick up and at a bar near you!!

... Probably, some other blokes lover, who he put in a whole lot of time for, would of ran around the world for and was trying to build a future outta love and some good old fashion hard learnt sense...

If ya can't beat em, perhaps we should join em?!!

I'm off to buy a bag, to land me a bag!!?

Coming?