You can always make an enemy

My boss, Roberto pointed out to me I can always make an enemy, that I'd never know when I'd get a manager that doesn't like long hair and where's wally socks.
I solicited some nightmare housemate stories and heard some other's the past couple of days and the scripts I'm writing at the moment touch on a lot of pretty unpleasant experiences yet they do represent experiences I'm glad I had and cherish.
Yet it can be fucking hell. I was lucky to move to a college I'd commend to anyone being International House, the International experience if anything taught me that white's the best and the UN are never going to work out but don't be disheartened. College's at least have support staff and bodies that can protect you. Your private space is secure and you can get help at 2.00 am any night of the week.
In my first year I was living it up, completely insulated from the real world in IH. I had a ground floor room in Scheps wing, one of the ugliest buildings ever created by the hands of man and my mates and girlfriend could throw stones at my window with ease when they wanted me to open the place up for them. I had nice thick brick walls and a cupboard I could hide in to scare my girlfriend who would yell like a man.
Morley once got me to go into his room which had identical layout yet had no room for anything and a tv set sitting in a drawer. The trapazoid rooms were versatile you could say that.
I signed my name TΩ in the cupboard with an '02 next to it, so I got the full experience.
My girlfriend was a different story, I met her in Japan where she was on exchange from Austrlia, she had dated this Japanese guy in her year 12 before coming to Melbourne, in such a rush was she to find a house she managed to move in with her ex boyfriend and a bullemic girl. On top of this she stuffed up her uni preferences and picked a degree she actually had to study for.
The ex took an instant dislike to me. I wasn't really given any warning. I thought he was a cool guy. I probably got off on the wrong foot by killing the small talk with 'I've never fucking heard of Shizuoka' anyway this guy had done some clever shit like stab his tattoo when she'd dumped him and taken to drinking.
Bogan as I called her (I love bogans) decided it was best not to tell me he had aquired the aluminium bar from a shopping trolley handle which he had said was 'for tom'
In the meantime I had gotten sick of having to hide whenever Yoshi was around and tiptoe around Yoshi and generally act like I was scared of Yoshi.
So I forced bogan into the position of having to make Yoshi deal with the fact that I was dating his ex now.
Yoshi decided to get drunk and bring a bunch of friends around and play loud music till 1am.
When she asked him to turn the music down, Yoshi took his pole and smashed up his own stereo. then he chased his friends out into the night and I spent the night barricading the door with bogan until morning came.
They had to evict Yoshi who cleaned himself up a fair bit got a new girlfriend and as far as I know was a decent guy, I always thought he was pretty cool.
Bogan dumped me about two to three months down the track. I was mortally devestated but learnt (I think) that it takes two to tango and never really saw her again.
In the end though having a dickhead housemate is still a destructive relationship and the reality of rent can force people together long past boiling point. If I'd known Yoshi was planning to kill me I probably wouldn't have pressed the issue, but evicting him was easy and they got a replacement housemate pretty quickly too. Even though Yoshi lived in a closet more or less.
I don't think rent is the trap though in the end picking housemates is the same as picking sexual partners, friends and employees, there's only so much you can know about a person and you do require the good old double coincidence of wants. People still stuff up all said decisions more often than not, there's even ones you have to see coming like the good old Palestinian and Zionist match. Or the Rugby player and anyone match. Or the creepy guy at the workplace, how the fuck do they get past the interview?

Addict behaviour

I wasn't going to write anything today, because I am almost certain nobody reads this on a daily basis. But I been yet again at my desk writing this fucking script and managed to knock off two pages that I'm happy with. That being said much like this blog or any of my paintings going back and deleting or rewriting or even rereading something is unholy and unnatural to me. Speaking of which a friend of mine should have gone to get breast implants today. Now there's something you never imagine happening to someone you know, and I thought they were kidding.
Anyway here's a picture I love, I put it here because I intend to put up more but most of the artists paintings I love are reckognised and I think it's a side of me I neglect and really wish I had some scans or prints of my work.
carcrash by r.s.conett there's a link to the artists site in the post entitled 'my god' which refers to another post I am partially eager to get off the main page so people can safely read this blog at their workplace again.
The dude drew this with his eyes closed erratically. Lately I've been looking at Yantra's and Escher prints too often I forgot about the influences of the totally free artists like conett and whitely
brett whitely's
My year 12 folio was made up of a huge cityscape triptych which I had bolted together with piano hinges (Vicky my art teacher come surrogate mother would smack me for making out that I was practically helpful in any way, I couldn't nail the frame together and couldn't stretch the canvas at all) that I free hand sketched the cityscape with charcoal on canvas then went over those lines with red acrylic, then painstakingly taped every edge and area to paint a tesselation of polygons that made up my impression of ballarat.
Miles said to me one day 'So what's this mean you're fucked in the head?' Miles did a piece on masturbation from memory.
After 3 months and a lot of weekends of coming up with the finished background I then went and free hand painted on some citizens to destory the freehand-begets- structured-begets-freehand-begets-structured feel. But I did the freehand painting using some stencils and free hand then the inspiring and dominating Vicky touched up my work for me because she didn't feel it was complete.
The more I think about it the odder the piece was in the end, I probably did win that voucher after all.
My other influences include Magritte, Jeffrey Smart, Dali, Picasso, Botticelli, Francis Bacon blah blah and yet I don't actually paint much. I can't remember the last time I picked up a brush.

Two Dogs

Often whilst procrastinating the answer comes through inaction. I decided I should read other peoples blogs, out of curtesy so I plugged Travis into the blogs above me and found this guys blog which had another link to religion of peace if there was ever a way to look at the world through a prism of hate these two sites offer the perspective.
Controversial? No, stupidity isn't controversy. You have to read particularly the first site to believe, I implore you check them out. The Holocaust is one of the most severe and brutal forms of genocide enacted on a people in history. The tragedy has been portrayed with sensitivity and beauty time and time again and the grief is never ending.
Then there are other attrocities, like the invasion of palestine and the treatment of it's people by the Nation of Isreal. I have reproduced Arundhati Roy's speech on September 11 in part:

September 11th has a tragic resonance in the Middle East, too. On the 11th of September 1922, ignoring Arab outrage, the British government proclaimed a mandate in Palestine, a follow-up to the 1917 Balfour Declaration which imperial Britain issued, with its army massed outside the gates of Gaza. The Balfour Declaration promised European Zionists a national home for Jewish people. (At the time, the Empire on which the Sun Never Set was free to snatch and bequeath national homes like a school bully distributes marbles.)

How carelessly imperial power vivisected ancient civilizations. Palestine and Kashmir are imperial Britain's festering, blood-drenched gifts to the modem world. Both are fault lines in the raging international conflicts of today.

In 1937, Winston Churchill said of the Palestinians, I quote, "I do not agree that the dog in a manger has the final right to the manger even though he may have lain there for a very long time. I do not admit that right. I do not admit for instance, that a great wrong has been done to the Red Indians of America or the black people of Australia. I do not admit that a wrong has been done to these people by the fact that a stronger race, a higher-grade race, a more worldly wise race to put it that way, has come in and taken their place." That set the trend for the Israeli State's attitude towards the Palestinians. In 1969, Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir said, "Palestinians do not exist." Her successor, Prime Minister Levi Eschol said, "What are Palestinians? When I came here (to Palestine), there were 250,000 non-Jews, mainly Arabs and Bedouins. It was a desert, more than underdeveloped. Nothing." Prime Minister Menachem Begin called Palestinians "two-legged beasts." Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir called them "grasshoppers" who could be crushed. This is the language of Heads of State, not the words of ordinary people.

In 1947, the U.N. formally partitioned Palestine and allotted 55 per cent of Palestine's land to the Zionists. Within a year, they had captured 76 per cent. On the 14th of May 1948 the State of Israel was declared. Minutes after the declaration, the United States recognized Israel. The West Bank was annexed by Jordan. The Gaza strip came under Egyptian military control, and formally Palestine ceased to exist except in the minds and hearts of the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian people who became refugees. In 1967, Israel occupied the West Bank and the Gaza strip.

Over the decades there have been uprisings, wars, intifadas. Tens of thousands have lost their lives. Accords and treaties have been signed. Cease-fires declared and violated. But the bloodshed doesn't end. Palestine still remains illegally occupied. Its people live in inhuman conditions, in virtual Bantustans, where they are subjected to collective punishments, twenty-four hour curfews, where they are humiliated and brutalized on a daily basis. They never know when their homes will be demolished, when their children will be shot, when their precious trees will be cut, when their roads will be closed, when they will be allowed to walk down to the market to buy food and medicine. And when they will not. They live with no semblance of dignity. With not much hope in sight. They have no control over their lands, their security, their movement, their communication, their water supply. So when accords are signed, and words like "autonomy" and even "statehood" bandied about, it's always worth asking: What sort of autonomy? What sort of State? What sort of rights will its citizens have?

Young Palestinians who cannot control their anger turn themselves into human bombs and haunt Israel's streets and public places, blowing themselves up, killing ordinary people, injecting terror into daily life, and eventually hardening both societies' suspicion and mutual hatred of each other. Each bombing invites merciless reprisal and even more hardship on Palestinian people. But then suicide bombing is an act of individual despair, not a revolutionary tactic. Although Palestinian attacks strike terror into Israeli citizens, they provide the perfect cover for the Israeli government's daily incursions into Palestinian territory, the perfect excuse for old-fashioned, nineteenth-century colonialism, dressed up as a new fashioned, twenty-first century "war".

Israel's staunchest political and military ally is and always has been the U.S. The U.S. government has blocked, along with Israel, almost every U.N. resolution that sought a peaceful, equitable solution to the conflict. It has supported almost every war that Israel has fought. When Israel attacks Palestine, it is American missiles that smash through Palestinian homes. And every year Israel receives several billion dollars from the United States - taxpayers money.

What lessons should we draw from this tragic conflict? Is it really impossible for Jewish people who suffered so cruelly themselves - more cruelly perhaps than any other people in history - to understand the vulnerability and the yearning of those whom they have displaced? Does extreme suffering always kindle cruelty? What hope does this leave the human race with? What will happen to the Palestinian people in the event of a victory? When a nation without a state eventually proclaims a state, what kind of state will it be? What horrors will be perpetrated under its flag? Is it a separate state that we should be fighting for or, the rights to a life of liberty and dignity for everyone regardless of their ethnicity or religion?

Palestine was once a secular bulwark in the Middle East. But now the weak, undemocratic, by all accounts corrupt but avowedly nonsectarian P.L.O., is losing ground to Hamas, which espouses an overtly sectarian ideology and fights in the name of Islam. To quote from their manifesto: "we will be its soldiers and the firewood of its fire, which will burn the enemies."

The world is called upon to condemn suicide bombers. But can we ignore the long road they have journeyed on before they have arrived at this destination? September 11, 1922 to September 11, 2002 - eighty years is a long time to have been waging war. Is there some advice the world can give the people of Palestine? Should they just take Golda Meir's suggestion and make a real effort not to exist?

Furthermore genocide is not new at any rate, think Maya, Mexica, Inca, Australian Aboriginies (sighted as 'blacks' by Winnie the Pooh above), Native Americans, Germans in Wallachia, Tibetans and too many tribes of Africa and the Middle East to Name.

It is hate pure and simple, there is not a single people on this earth I hate, not even a single person on this earth I hate or even consider worth hating. I firmly believe that when you want to keep a man trapped you trap yourself in the trapping of him, a handcuff binds the arrestor and the arrested, a guard and prisoner both are in a prison at the end of the day. The Zionists could learn from the Hindu Yogi's and expel violent thoughts from their minds, because violent and hateful thoughts can do you more damage than the damage intended by them.
Isreal at the end of the day is at war with itself.
In the Emperors New Clothes, the emperor cruised the streets in the nude and everyone was afraid to admit they couldn't see the clothes even the emporer himself, I think the true test of a leader is to walk around exposed and see if the people accept him. Everyone is entitled to a home and Isreal/Palestine is infact a sacred place to almost all people on the earth that everyone should have access too, I say lay down the borders, let the settlements go to whoever wants to live there, how can you conquer a nation that doesn't defend itself? obviously the problem goes deeper there are irreconcilable political interests in each religions self validation seeking tendancies, the uncompromising 'we want it all' position, why not let both have it all I'd say? It's not a fucking cake that needs eating, it's land that is going to be around for a while, whereas the people on both sides are not.

I picked up a daredevil comic which featured wolverine, he was telling a story to Echo who had known the Native Chief Wolverine knew:
'There are two dogs inside you, one that loves & one that hates, one of them has to win, which one?'
'The one you feed the most?'
Anyway the Chief had some new take on it picking up a minor technicality or something and the implications are lost to me now, but wolverines guess is the traditional answer to the riddle. It's right there and it's probably the answer to a lot of questions dividing the world at any given time.
I have a dog inside me that wags it's whole body giving it a duck like gait, it sniffs and snorts so hard it sneezes when it greets new people. it lays down for scratches at any given opportunity, that's my answer to the below post.
Morley would say I need hugs or a beating. I'd take both.

Shavin Cravin

I'm flip flopping like the fish in FNM's Epic. I got hate in my heart and I admit it, yet plenty to rejoice about, and then again maybe not.
Random memories will crop up like at mittagundi in a cabin in the dark that felt like 5 star luxury after being shat upon by snow gods for the two previous days. Jasper said 'Do you ever get lazy wiping your arse?' the talking went on and on that night even when we had exhausted all amusing options. 'I'm talking about pulling your hand away and the paper is fucking black and you say "it'll be right"' or back in ballarat before the age of mobile phones when I liked someone but couldn't concieve of when I'd actually see them again I'd wander up and down the street because fortunately ballarat teenagers are pretty predictable you'ld always bump into someone you know. I never recall bumping into any of the girls I liked though.
I want the hate out because I don't understand it, but the other night lying in bed wondering what it was all about it struck me like that, like an alcoholic seduces his wife, 'I got hate in my heart'
Questions and self doubt, I have no work to do at work so I'm working on my work, I go home and am overworked in playtime where there are no deadlines at all.
My hair I want to put in ballarina buns and sihk topnots and pretty ribbons yet the shaving craving has set upon me fierce, especially since Liam shaved his head and I seek reassurance my head hasn't gone a weird shape since last time I saw it. My scalp probably needs it to.
I think about all the haircuts I want to have and the likelihood of my work letting me slide by with them, the fro, the mohawk, the braids, the tetracube.
I think about my community work, paranoid now that I am one of them and not what I thought I was doing. You get two types of do gooders: function over form and form over function. I don't know which one I am.
Marc is definately a function over form, he just does shit for people because they are people and he helps them out.
Then you get institutions and cliques that help out people because they view them as a lower caste and help them out to feel good about themselves.
I don't believe in selfless acts at all, I guess I mostly do what I do because I need to. I forced Zaman into the Fitzroy library and went ten minutes overtime in the lesson tonight because I have not ten inches from my face right now a reminder that Zaman's dreams are a subset of my dream (which is to help people achieve their dreams) and to put the effort in. It helps me more in seeking validation, being worthwhile and building esteem probably more than it helps Zaman. I also just plain like to not fucking give up on things, Zaman was going to send me home due to no venue to study in so I made him read the library opening times 'oh it is 8 o'clock' then we sat in kiddy town and I did relax.
That is until I went cruising the streets hoping to run into someone that would make my life make sense. Like that Sikh dude who was decked from head to toe in orange except for his shoes. I now have identical shoes and for three days in a row, store attendants were overly friendly giving me discounts for being both a student and a teacher (of which I am now neither). None of them gave me their number although I didn't ask either probably because I wasn't really interested because I just wanted to buy shit, except for that curry girl she was hot but the line wanted me to shuffle on.
Too many buttons are being pushed too weakly and I feel stretched as a result of late. I need something to happen to make it worse or better or whatever so I can deal with it.
Right now just got this fucking twister wheel going 'Left hand blue' inside me and that just makes no fucking sense.
Apart from the Sikh guiding me to the perfect pair of shoes, I also had this dream that has been unravelling in a vividness so uncanny that I keep forgetting that the dream had almost no practical indication of what it actually meant whatsoever. I would write it out for you here but it's too incriminating.
'Right hand pizza' is what I am being told right now, I should eat pizza. If you're in a self congratualatory clique still and reading this kill yourself now, I'm talking to you Trinity Alumni.
I'm glad I got that all out.

Ten Canoes

If you love the Australian bush, you should see ten canoes. Tonight as I was out on a hot date watching ten canoes I thought how beautifully they captured the ominous nature of the outback, the bush. There is nothing like straying from the path in the wilderness and turning around in the deathly quiet of the bush and finding everything around you chaotic and peaceful.
In practicing deep ecology one notices there is far more life teaming in a square patch of bush than there is in a city block. Yet amongst all this action and life force interacting with eachother is enough peace to meditate on fundamentals. Enough peace until you catch an ant crawling up your leg hole or a mosquito* buzzing in your ear.
There is something enchanting and terrifying about the Australian landscape. Something the Jindabyne previews and ten canoes captures. Furthermore it makes the lifestyle of the indigenous all the more exciting and appealing even though their most prestigious consumer good is honey and you can talk about women or wallabies. Furthermore there is an obvious reason to see ten canoes, it is aboriginal culture freely expressed once we can accept the rich cultural traditions of their oral histories we can start having a real national identity, we can have rocks as exciting to visit as the Vatican, more so if we really learnt and appreciated the histories and origins of Australia.
Furthermore in accepting it it means we can progress towards expressions that aren't a commercialisation of culture but are inspired and progressive too, that is an indegenous artist can have as much right to push the boundaries as a maggot white one.
So see it, there's also plenty of talk of turds, pricks and fart jokes it's good.

Tom goes to Hell

How does hell even work? So I die and go to hell, where Satan tortures me for all eternity. So what? Really, I can't even concieve of what it would be like to live to 50 let alone eternity. And you know what is torture. If I was to be tickled till I vomit every day it would wear thin as torture at some point during eternity. By extension if I imagine having every layer of skin routinely grated off with a cheese grater and my fingernails pulled out with plyers and my eyelids cut off with rusty scisssors at some point I'm just not going to care.
I mean it's really the problem with the whole Henry Ford style of thinking. You haave a bunch of demons or goons or whatever doing these little jobs that achieve nothing and don't add any meaning to their eternal lives. What do they get out of torturing us? sadistic pleasure. You can jack off everyday sure but not all day. No I am sure if these are enteties themselves being punished they would have better things to do with eternity than simply torture people.
I mean why even torture someone, even in the worst possible way it's not going to yield any useful information, there's no way we can go back and change our behaviour to any great effect once dead. So why? as a deterrant to the still living to lead good lives of honesty, piety and modesty. If so why not punish people were people could see the causality between being a sinner and suffering for your sins, like while their still alive. Instead of the obscure alternate dimension of the afterlife.
See I know Chuck Norris, Hell sounds bad conceptually.
But conceptually it doesn't fucking work. People will aclimatise to inhumane heat when they cant die and have all eternity to do it, the mind has a certain threshold for pain before it switches off or dissapears, we can't be killed when we're dead, and hell has a constantly expanding population.
Sure A fuckload of evil sentient entities are doing a job more repetative and meaningless than a machine these days could do twice as effectively and with no unionisation.
So here's what happens, I die, I go to hell, hell is hot, I am in desperate pain and anguish for let's assume it takes me a long time 50 years to acclimatise. After 50 years I aclimatise. I find that I still have all eternity to engage in the more meaningful market driven economy and labour force that is utilising the resources of hell to answer the key economic questions. What to produce? For Whom do we produce? And another one I can't remember.
Maybe the demons have actually got all the sinners to work with them to try and escape the confines of hell? I imagine so, they have all eternity and it is in all residents interests to find a way out, if it is even that bad.
I imagine if we could witness hell, the naive and gap filled system it is designed on (whilst effective at scaring children, and young adults whose minds have been protected from sin) isn't that scary nor would it work under core conditions. After 100 years of torture I would have stopped caring. My mind would implode and I would have accepted my fate.
I realise there are more sophisticated and even more gruesome forms of torture out there and torture is by no means funny or appropriate in any circumstances but seriously if we could see into hell to test out this theory I bet you could also get a contiki tour there by now.

Arundhati Roy

For the official word on this Amazing woman click here. I had never heard of Arundhati Roy, I just saw her in a documentary and as I am prone to do fell in love. I feel compelled to write about her because I've probably been giving woman a bad run of late talking about D.u.f.f.'s and the Dumb bitches driving me towards Mike Patton ever firmerly.
I won't go into the background seriously click the fucking link to get an overview of her but she was immeadiately inspirational as a voice of reason amongst masses of voices of hollow affirmative noise. I like small people who stick up for themselves and more to the point others. There is nothing more inspiring than when a little old lady shames a neo-nazi into shutting up and being quiet on the tram.
Arundhati was like that.
Her dedication and activism to singlemindedly exploit her public image and put herself in danger, to just like Ghandi destroy the fear of jail by making her arrests such positive news stories for her causes is what ultimately makes me gravitate towards Arundhati and her style.
And then to see her celebrated by the villagers she speaks for in the Drowned Out documentary makes me love her all the more.
Moreover she articulatly and beautifully destroys the arguements that are nothing but a heinous manifestation of escalation of commitment.
Almost all organisations and individuals on some scale manage to trap themselves through this psychological catchall. I think it's why I love Musashi and his book changed my life. The imperative that needs to be reinforced is success. In swordfighting it is clear cut - you go in with a strategy and success is determined by whether you walk away or not. Musashi would advocate running away the moments it looks like you're going to lose. The indian government would advocate that you press on until you fail.
Most people in fact do because they attatch the useless value of shame to admitting a mistake and revising their strategy. People are prideful and attatched.
So when Arundhati puts up meaningful statistics to indicate the massive dam project wont work as was proposed, that thousands of people have been displaced and a couple of private citizens benefit the solution of the government and most organisations is to simply not measure the effectiveness, deny all secondary reports and plow on ahead.
She said at the world convention of water management 'People asked me why I came here today, I came here to see what power smells like and I can tell you it stinks.' I would feel soiled and shit if somebody described me that way I don't know how you could deal with it.
Arundhati like so many others has found a way to expose governments at their weakest point, the beauracracy that leads to escalation of commitment strategies. Yet somehow they keep surviving simply because they have learnt a tried and true technique to deal with it, not an empowered and effective one infact quite a dangerous one: Make irrelevant comments and just continue doing what you where doing.
Our governments have done it, America does it and it works by one virtue alone, often the human cost of creating an alternative system of government is greater than the human cost of what they are doing. So long as this equation is in balance I guess you can say democracy works.
Escalation of commitment always involves an investment. You or anyone outlays some money, this is used to purchase equipment, clothing, infrastructure etc. whatever benefits where to be derived from the investment just never substantiate. It doesn't work. However rather than except the loss of the invested funds and find one that does if say you were eating apples out of a bag and found one of them was bruised, most people naturally try to try their hardest to make the investment work. Companies run themselves into the ground more quickly using this mentality than by any other means 'we already spent so much on advertising' 'all the promotional material is printed' so sad too bad.
But you have to look at the big picture. To cut your losses so to speak. Synacism gets a bad wrap at most do gooder parties and clusters, people don't like how unenergetic it is. However let me tell you this with papal infalability no single perspective has caused more waste, grief and embarassment than the can do attitude, the 'we can take on ipod if we just try harder, we're bigger afterall' of Sony. IBM vs RCA 'Our computers are better, head to head we have to win' Warren Buffet recently histories biggest ever philanthropist said of managerial princes and corporate toads 'we are not in the business of kissing toads and turning them into princess, few managers have the natural talent and were we to put them in strong performing companies it would be better for all.' okay he didn't say that it's not an exact quote but the moral was don't invest in the 'can do' spirit.
And so Arundhati's protest is one motivated by love of her heartland, that is on the tried and true path to mediocraty which is building a massive dam that doesn't work that was intended to impress the world with your engineering capabilities but when it ceased to do that you spent more money as part of a propaganda campaign to promote it to your own people. Because the world isn't fucking impressed. And as soon as a company starts promoting itself to it's employees instead of it's customers it is already dead. It may be a long time coming but the can do spirit isn't an entreprenuerial, high risk one. It is an increadibly low risk because you are more or less gaurunteed to burn up all your resources and fail.
Yet despite having all this brought to the attention of the Indian government still they press on. So should they be surprised when their officials start getting stabbed to death in their car? I would argue no. Should Mugabe start to worry when the displaced people of his own nation start saying 'I have nothing left to live for' yes.
The real tragedy is the only sane person in so much insanity can come across as insane, I've experienced that first hand when I pointed out our Ad campaign was structured around a meaningless feauture and not a benifit. I got stared down because all the work had been done already and they then presented it to the sales department which out of form is meant to be impressed that marketing managed to spend some money. Yet benifits sell not features is a proven working strategy that even the most basicly trained salesperson knows.
Anyway read her wikipedia entry, I don't think she's insane I think she's beautiful.

Wholesome Muffins

I figure I need about 2 weeks to just fucking sleep. Maybe even nap through a whole month. I saw a depressing add by commonwealth that depicted a teenager splounging in bed and the caption 'future workaholic' how the fuck? I used to be that lazy. I used to sleep in till fucking 8 every day, sure I missed out on a whole bevy of cartoons but I can live with that.
Yesterday I cycled for an hour or so around all the hoods that get my skin crawling, you know Toorak, St Kilda, Prahran were cool people go for good times. I cycled for hours because I was trying to get to my friends place and was using a conceptual map in my head of where I thought the place should be rather than a map that indicated where it is. I'd actually been looking forward to the bike ride for the few days I had notice of the shindig so I didn't mind.
But eventually in the home of company cars, and asian drivers a cyclist will get on edge. Chapel street was the one part of the journey I didn't see a single other rider whereas my side of the train tracks I now have to share the tiny 'special people' area with 5 cyclists any day of the week. It's like being in china or some shit.
I mean there's other places that get to me like Canturbury and pretty much all of Sydney (though I haven't seen much) in the same way, and the people I was visiting are pretty cool, like at least a 6.
But I'm a pyker it's what I fuckin do and by the time I got there not only did I feel like someone had stepped on my grave already but I'd managed to turn up after I had intended on leaving. So I stuck around and then unfortunately had to ungracefully cut and run whereas I'm more into dissapearing like Batman in commisioner gordon's office.
The joke is I got home and wasted another 2 hours of my life playing the sidemost scrolling action of stinkoman. I admit it has all those elements of early megaman games plus engrish galore so I was easily sucked in.
But it caused me to wake up late today, I also enjoyed the rain before I knew it I had to desperately rush into town to let the gang know basketball was cancelled which as far as I'm concerned means I may as well not have been alive this week.
Which brings me in the longest sense to what my blog is about, my recent descent into wholesomeness.
Now all my fucking life I've been regarded as a black fucken sheep. A bad influence, a touchy recruit. A reputation I don't think I deserve in the slightest, caffeine (via coke) is the only drug I do (my consumption of cola is well below most males my age the nutritionist tells me) and did start drinking post VCE exams for a highly unsuccessful 2 year drinking career and have since stopped again.
I'll take the black sheep reputation because I believe it makes me more appealing to the ladies but what causes me the most difficulty about it is explaining to friends and colleagues that I don't really like to party, when someone says 'I bet you're the first to pass out tonight' and the sheer unbrideled bewilderment and dissapointment on their face when I say 'I don't really drink' and when people assume I get all my creative ideas from smoking and injecting various drugs, I just can't back it up. I don't even know what they are meant to be like.
So generally I pike because I ain't drinking and don't want to witness the ugliness.
In year 12 I got real good at being sober around drunk people and you know could even interact with some degree of success.
But I was overly concerned when I realised most of my friends don't drink, and don't really speak english I got into a conscious effort to catch up with my old mates and was doing so. I realised I fucking love catching up one on one for dinner or something that's great. But a lot have been like 'yeah we gotta catch up for beers' and the whole thing just falls apart.
It put's me in mind of my marketing lecturer that pointed out what a massive problem drinking is in Australia. It has to be our major social failing. Non drinkers have to explain and apologise for not drinking. Companies market premix drinks to underage kids in underage magazines.
So why have I become so uncool, so fucking wholesome. I never wanted to be. Fuck I don't even get why you would drink. I really don't I've never enjoyed it even in my heyday back when I could tell you how many standard drinks you could get for any dollar amount.
So yeah, I guess for most people it provides a context for socialising and it's been called a social lubricant for many a year. anyhoo though I actually have concluded I am more at ease with basketball or cycling or just fucking food as the context in which I socialise. I'll still make token appearances. Maybe even more than that if there's cake or muslims.
Now I'm going to bake some bran muffins.
I'm proud of who I am, it's like I'm gay or something.

My God

I wasn't going to blog tonight I swear, I was even kind of on a roll writing scripts. I hit a log jam though and needed to look something up on the net and then I decided I needed to add a link to Sally's blog on my blog so I went out of my way to look it up again and do that, that done I went to check that the link came up okay and worked (incidentally I haven't been sleeping with a lot more people lately it's just more people I've slept with have started blogging).
Anyway I opened it up and was immeadiately confronted with the graphicness of my blog below and thought I have to write something to get it moving offscreen. What was I thinking? then and now.
Anyway I don't really have anything to write. I bought a bolognese pizza that was pretty tasty. I been watching One Piece again in the mornings it's cool. I tried to fit a headlight to my bike. I picked out some toejam today. I almost have made myself completely redundant at work.
Ran into a dude I hadn't seen for three years. That was pretty cool. We chatted, no strong association but you know it wasn't too awkward.
Anyway that's that. Hopefully now you have to scroll down to see the graphic graphicness of my adolescent drawings. If you really want to know how amatuer we were click on this link. I used some of this guys compositions as inspiration for my year 12 folio even though my works looked nothing like that. I was an artist by the way go figure.
I should feature more of my inspirations of the visual arts persuasion.

Duff and Wingman

Every now and then I discover that whilst I was preoccupies with drawing pictures like this one of my friend Brenton in highschool:
early filth contest entry
feeling all special about how much more perverse my mind was than brenton's I may have missed out on some essential concepts that make my life easier or harder. One such one I found out today. I never knew about girls keeping 'DUFF's' or 'Dumb ugly fat friend' to make themselves look better when out nor that I should have a 'wingman' a co conspirator. I mean I always suspected about the Duff's it's just too common an occorance. But I didn't know I needed my robin, my wingman to take out the duff to bring the whole battle back to even stevens. Until now I had relied on my relative clean cutness at Bryce hosted functions to attract attention. Now I realise I can produce results anywhere with a little help from a friend.
By the same token I think I'd make an excellent wingman I mean a lot of the time I'll be conversating with what I must presume was a duff thinking I was simply conversating and naively thinking I was looking good for my compassion and well meaning to all living creatures.
In fact I'd be the best wingman, I can talk to anyone. I did fucking door to door sales charming women in flannel shirts and spandex tights to the point where they laughed out loud through the brown remnants of their teeth.
Although like always maybe I'm not as good as I think I am. I still cherish what is possibly the finest work of art ever produced on paint... not by me but by brenton. Truly archibald worthy and so sensuos you'd swear brenton was gay.
Anyway enough defamation.
tomas

Hey I'm No Hero

He's not a hero! He's just Steve. Steve is my mate, on the train and he is worthy of my highest praises. Steve can come across as a little scary, he's missing part of one finger, has a broken nose, food stains on his jumper, wears ACDC and The Rock T-Shirts and is loud and persistent.
I met him on the train, he came up to talk to me about my bike. Crazy people often talk to me, I don't know if it's because of my long hair or the crazy glint in my eye but people can interrupt me whilst I'm listening to music through headphones, eating a subway sandwich and reading a magazine which generally says 'I am not interested in conversation' Steve was one such person to interrupt me on the train in the morning whilst I was enthusiastically writing scenes for a TV show idea.
Except Steve isn't crazy at all, he loves his mum, would never cheat on his girlfriend and likes to tell jokes and say g'day to random people on the train.
I was immeadiately touched by Steve's requesting permission to sit with me, to which I said it was fine, even though I really just wanted to write and listen to music.
Steve proceeded to tell me his 'big secret' he made me swear never to tell anyone which I did, as to this day I still have no idea what he whispered to me because I had left one of my ipod earphones in.
Steve became a regular and we always liked to chat, he gives me rare insights into what is happening in Brunswick and allows me to connect to a world that too many are cushioned from. He is honestly the most loving guy and I do feel protected by him. Because I look like such a fag most of the occa people who get off the train take an immeadiately couragous dislike to me. I have repressed my sociopathic tendancies so I never miss the train to start a fight that would probably be purely to my detriment but when I ride with Steve I never get bothered and that is pretty fucking sweet.
Too often there is a wonderful service I can do which is just listening to people. Sure Steve slurs alot, has trouble getting food in his mouth when he talks and eats at the same time and sometimes drifts off to sleep mid sentance. His jokes often don't go anywhere and I find it hard to keep up conversations about cars and 80's shows about cars either of which I know nothing.
But sometimes like today it is something you really can do some good over. Aparantly the owner of one of Brunswicks 2nd hand stores and a good mate of Steve's had his throat slashed open one night and Steve was really going to miss him.
It was really beautiful and sad.
Steve I would guess has had plenty of run ins with the cops, with gangs and bruisers, but he has a strong sense of values that easily transform him into teacher.
Still it's an odd pair we make on the train, he thinks I'm beautiful and at the same time wants me to go to the RSL club to see Rodney Rude for $44. Maybe I should.

A Love that isn't Beautiful revisited... already

Last night as I drifted out of consciousness my housemate was watching an SBS documentary after he had already passed out of consciousness. As far as I could deduce it was about a homosexual kid taking on his catholic school to be able to bring a date of his choice to the prom. Powerful stuff.
But I think what I didn't address when I first wrote about homophobia is that many gay people are profoundly religious. Their religion makes them feel guilty and sinful for who they are. Angel an evangelist christian that use to pray for the souls of a couple of my friends once said 'I have a gay friend and he asked a priest about homosexuality and he was told that the orientation itself is not sinful but the practice, so my friend has decided not to practice.' it was meant as a gracious 'see Christianity does have something for everyone' but was properly summed up by my current housemate as 'incredibly sad'
This guy on the documentary said 'I believe in a god who loves everyone for who they are' then broke down crying and I think that says it all. As a godless, soulless individual I forget that some people not only have to deal with their parents inability to accept their lifestyle but also their god's who's supposed to be all benevolent and all powerful.
It's yet another issue religions have to address as Gods become less and less impressive every day. If people have better attitudes generally than god, god's going to go from a someone to a noone very quickly (speaking in terms of centuries) meanwhile the Beatles popularity lives on.

I can dance all day

Some Videos worth checking out:

Skip to my Lou

Sanji vs Bon Clay

Air Canada

Les Claypool

Song to make love to your lady by

and by the time you watched those this could be my longest blog entry ever.
The wonders of outsourcing to people with actual talents.
Regardorino's

Tom.

A Love that Isn't Beautiful

I can't believe it's taken me this long to write about this subject. Homophobia is actually illegal yet it is also illegal for same sex couples to marry. The arguement is that marriage is sacred, John howard argues that marriage is exclusively for between a man and a woman. Yet as Chris Rock is quick to point out a) marriage isn't sacred. Not when you have the Bachelor, the Bachelorette, Joe Millionaire, Who Want's to marry a Millionaire, Australian Princess, Outback Jack. And even in the words of the Great Chuck Barris 'The premise of the Newlyweds game was that any couple would gladly sell eachother out for a chance to win some modern kitchen appliances' if you are afraid of the legal status and welfare entitlements causing a drain on taxpayers money, worry about fucking negative gearing, a tax incentive of no benifit to anyone but the already wealthy and an economic burden on everyone else.
If you believe in any justice at all, the same justice that has lead us to say you can't make employment choices based on someones sexual orientation then what about protecting these individuals that are living as married couples anyway yet if their relationship is irreconcilable after 20 years living together there's no defacto status, no dividing the estate we send one faggot up the river and let the other sit pretty.
If gay men and women can't marry they also can't divorce or seperate which just isn't just.
I guess my real question is 'what is everyone afraid of?' I mean seriously, I am so fucking sick of it. We know you can't catch homosexuality or lesbianism. We know you can't cure it, it's someones nature, someones soul. It is how they choose to love.
I forget who it was but I'm pretty sure it wasn't Shania Twain but anyway one of those lesbian american singers when she was growing up in the south and had determined she was a lesbian she went to fess up to a priest and the priest said 'I can't believe that god could make a love that isn't beautiful'.
What about beastiality Tom? or Peadophilia Tom? I agree with you, but at least your acknowledging the love. But what about Heterosexuality? think about it, Paedophilia and Beastiality are detestable not because they are a form of love but all to often are expressed as Rape. Just like it isn't love in a heterosexual relationship when one party is 'in love' and the other party isn't, that is called rape, statutory rape, molestation, stalking, sexual harassment, abuse etc. A huge percentage of girls in Australia are in abusive relationships, an understated figure because only a small percentage of them overcome the shame and get help. So there's a fucking love that isn't beautiful. I love ducks, but I'd never fuck one. Because ultimately loving and fucking are two different things. The only thing that would make me reconsider my position is if a duck maybe cracked onto me at a party one day.
Like that's ever going to happen, I'm not that lucky.
So seriously, what homosexual in history has ever hurt anyone? versus hetero initiatives like the sacking of troy, the death of king arthur, the ottoman empire vs Wallachia, the Hiroshima Bombing, the Holocaust.
Maybe you can blame the Holocaust on Hitler if you think he was gay, but if he was would he have done any of it if he wasn't a repressed homosexual.
The only time it can harm someone that I can accept is in the religious sense, but there viewpoint is weak to me. Religions assume homosexuality is a choice, they also believe it can be cured. I don't think it is. I think people are gay if they are gay the day they are born. Which to me means that if one's everlasting soul is fucked from square one, then god (and this is a big truism) is a racist prejudice fuck. I don't fucking care, I would no more eat at a restaurant that refused my homosexual friends than I would spend an eternity in a self proclaimed 'paradise' that refused my homosexual friends.
I am ashamed to be a member of a nation that will not bestow equal rights and dignity to my homesexual friends, yet just like my homosexual friends I had both the fortune and misfortune of being born that way and by 'that way' I mean Australian. fortunately I can do something about being Australian. I can move to Brazil, get citizenship, tear up my Australian passport and never again return. My gay friends aren't so lucky.
Yesterday I wore my army cam stockings to basketball under my shorts, when changing out of my shorts after the match Omar my palestinian friend finally clicked that my stockings were fucking stockings and he a fucken arab and proclaimed victim of prejudice said 'do you want people to think you are gay?' to which I should have retorted 'what's with your fucking beard do you want people to think your a fucking arab terrorist mother fucker?' which is generally how I actually speak to Omar so he probably wouldn't have gotten my point but I think I said 'we can't all pretend to be blackmen'
It's all to fucken common, homophobia is a new thing. All over the world, the Greek and Roman empires celebrated it "women are for babies, boys are for pleasure" the higher ranking roman official you could do the more prestige to you.
That was the foundation of western civilization until the church came along, Japan's beaf under the Bushido system against homosexuality was: 'Any samurai who is in a relationship with a man has loyalty to two men, his master and his lover and this can create difficulty.' that was it, none of this burn in hell shit that comes from the church, the same church that would have us believe Jesus never did anything but hang around with 12 other men.
Homophobia was introduced to Japan. Homophobia has been introduced by the Church to most of civilization and we are all poorer for it.
When I was 6 I wasn't interested in girls, I wanted to play transformers in the playground with the boys. I devised a new lifestyle that made perfect sense to me. What if two guys fell in love, that have more in common and you know wouldn't have to put up with girly things like barbie and my little pony and shit.
In other words I thought I had devised an alternative lifestyle, I had invented homosexuality. Like most boys at the age of 6 I was well behind puberty and understanding how fun women can be, but at the same time I still think guy guy and girl girl relationships actually make a lot of sense.
I come from Ballarat, the capital city of homosexual repression. Families with a repressed homosexual kid lead a tragic pretend life. Families with kids who have gone to melbourne and come out of the closet end up having broken homes as parents struggle to 'deal with it' which they wouldn't have to if every majour institution wasn't out there espousing homophobic shit.
Like all things you've got to reverse it. You've got to imagine what life would be like if throughout history all major institutions, churches, governments, courts where heterophobic. That is the only legally recognized relationships where gay ones and reproduction was a civil duty carried out once or twice in a lifetime, no relationship ensued.
What kind of fucking life is that? It probably wouldn't work. It would collapse. Just like homophobia also doesn't work. People are still gay despite it being just about the worst thing you can be in terms of opportunities apart from being aboriginal. It still exists because the best thing you can have is requitted love. The powers that be within the church are honestly and with absolute finality a piece of shit, we need more priests of the 'god would not create a love that isn't beautiful' calibre in charge and less of the homophobic conservative ones that preach abstinence only sex education (which if you want to talk about success, abstinence only ed. states and nations having the highest rate of STI's, Teen pregnancies, and small minded arseholes of anywhere in the world).

My Left Testicle

could this be my future left nut?

I watched a documentary called drowned out on friday night. It was about a massive dam project in india started in the 1960's that presented some subsistence agrarian villages with the choice of relocating (to land they felt they were incapable of living off), taking a cash payment (that was small enough to not even cover the cost of relocating to the slums) or staying in the valley and drowning when the monsoons submerged their ancestral homes.
Naturally they chose to drown. Now the evening was sponsored by way of Prosper Australia & earthsharing which has the link over to the left of me. Over the past 6 months when I can I've been doing some reading on the whole thing and whilst sitting through my economics lectures wondered why nobody's done the simple price v quantity supply demand curve model on land, as far as I know nobody still hasn't (?).
But this is the thing, as foreign as the concept of removing all income and consumption taxes in favour of resource rentals goes when I try and 'find the holes to fuck it' I just cannot, I cannot fuck the theory.
So here are some examples:
You got a subsistence community living in a valley with no claims to their land. They consume only what they produce and don't engage in trade (due to there being no surplus) presumably someone owns the land and I am presuming it is the government since no bit of land on earth currently doesn't have a private owner. 500 km away you got a drought stricken area of an even greater amount of subsistence farmers. Under utilitarianism ethos the displacement of 10,000 people to divert water to 1.4 million or some such number. The government offers the displaced population the aforementioned deal (although they don't offer drowning as an option) So the question is how does taxing people land tax help out subsistence communities? It works every which way - first and foremost the big problem with the damn is that it won't work, the water will never make it to the drought stricken area but will travel through the canal system to benifit an industrial region, namely already wealthy chemical companies etc as per the world banks assesment. So at the moment all income tax of all indians is financing the damn and an industrial sectors land values have appreciated greatly because of it. If there was land tax the infrastructure improvements would mean that the benificiaries of the mega damn would actually have to pay for it by way of the land value and as such land tax appreciating. The lack of land for the subsistence farmers would dissappear because unused land would be left vacant for relocation, in india even the slums are owned by someone who generally benevolently allow millions to live there, if they were paying land tax on it it would force them to develope these areas creating more employment and creating habitable places. Furthermore in the drought stricken area the government would have to build 'mini dams' which collect monsoon waters between plots and have proved much more effective at relieving the drought as opposed to mega dams the first of which provides water to only 5% of it's intended area at huge taxpayer cost. One criticism was that a land tax would be unsupportable by subsistence communities, destroying them and devaluing them.
But even if you sit down and model it you have land with no infrastructure, no electricity, no pipes, no fucking nothing, so land tax would be low as compared to melbourne CBD. The communities would not actually have to rent the land but a) they would have the option of doing so, and b) if not what else is the land going to be used for, if I were to rent it my most logical work force to produce the little surplus necessary to pay the land tax would be the existing community. Let's face it I'd have a hard time luring professionals out to work in my ultra minimalist work place.

Another fucking example Australia, Australian housing is overvalued by 22% making it unattractive for foreign investment as it is currently an asset bubble. This problem is compounded by our ageing population. They are getting huge superannuation payouts and looking for an income generating asset that is simple enough for them to understand, bricks and morter. Now if you read LVRG's report bricks and mortar is a bad investment because the actual bricks and mortar are deteriorating all the time and cost of housing materials has held pretty much steady all the time. Furthermore land is overvalued because of urban sprawl, whilst people subscribe to the lex luthor maxim of 'they can never make more land' there is no limit to how many Fountain Gate communities they can make on the outskirts of melbourne. It is also a renters market due to the shear volume of investment properties out there there are more places for people to rent than there are tennants to rent them. But as my mum explained you don't make money on rent it's the capital gain. Infact it is all too common for people to make a loss on rent even when they are fortunate enough to have tennants because they can claim a tax deduction on any loss should rent not cover the interest on their loan.
This is called negative gearing.
So look at the situation, we are about to have a large proportion of Australians retiring, they wont be producing any economic surplus. The surplus of their lives have been used to buy up all the land, this has been amplified by negative gearing making the market more overpriced because you don't actually have to make an income form an investment property. I also see news report after newsreport on how underfunded the public health care system is, how underfunded the education system is, how public transport is running at a loss, how bad Australian infrastructure is etc. The most likely place for my income tax to go really is in a deduction for a multiple property owner. So my income tax goes to the ATO then someone rich enough to have an asset like an investment property can claim back their taxes and then rent me a room in their property to pay off the mortgage.
If there is say a 10% annual tax on the NPV of any property in Australia you would think the answer is simple simply increase the rent by that much. And possibly I could afford it because you get rid of income tax at the same time. So then two things happen all the houses that don't have tennants can't have the land tax covered by non existent rent, if they want to keep the property as an investment then they have to reenter the workforce and earn an income to cover their taxes or put the property on the market. Which will happen in a lot of cases because all of a sudden 'You make money from the capital gain not the rent' doesn't work anymore because ten percent of the value of the house if it is appreciating you actually have to cover each and every year. Every decade you have paid for the house again.
So land values drop because I who was once a renter can now buy a whole bunch of houses on the market if I like but faced with the same problem am only going to buy as many as my income can cover. Which will probably be one. Unless I also want to buy a property to start a business and start employing people. Then all of a sudden the pensioners with no income but land tax are screwed? but there not the depreciation of land values means the land tax they pay also reduces. Presumably to the point where they can draw a pension (based on minimum survival income) which both covers their land tax and there food, clothing etc. But that wasn't the retirement I planned I want to be rich and travel. So you fucking baby boomers have finincial planners now what are they going to do hand you a gun to shoot yourself. No they'll tell you to invest in the sharemarket and instead of living off the rent and income of the young generation actually bankroll them to start businesses and turn a profit. There isn't a single company in the world that won't grow if they got a massive influx of finances to invest in capital, research and development etc. Moron's running companies will go bust but that's why you have fund managers to dodge this shit. Furthermore instead of making money off capital gains you are making it off income, profits, dividends, the work of the younger generation that wants to work. You recieve dividends for investing in them rather than charging them to be alive which will cover the cost of rising land taxes as the government desperately improves and repairs infrastructure in order to increase revenues.

In development most issues regarding poverty revolve around land, My friend said in her honours thesis (or maybe just talking about it) in Vanuatu people where occupying land that was unused but owned by other people and the government would not redistribute because they simply thought the squatters would just 'go away' ie do nothing and hope they go away. A lot of subsistence and drought stricken development regions could do with resource rentals and land tax rather than the current set up which is lock down the wealth poverty gap.

There is not a single case study in history that disproves this resource rental tax. There are quite a few that do prove it. I have come up with many more scenarios than these two and not a single one of them is better off under a different taxation method. Even a world where land is in infinite supply. So here's the deal, I am willing to bet my left nut you can't fuck this theory. At the very least you shouldn't because it obviously represents the greatest gain to me and my generation.

Dressed to kill.

Okay so if I was dressed to kill I'd probably wear a hair net and latex gloves. I'd cover up in some old clothes that I don't mind burning too, so hardly ever do I actually dress to kill.
I did recently wear my bright red polyester suit out to a german restaurant on a date set up by a tv show and I realised how comfortable I was and how conservatively I dress for work, my work colleagues are all eagerly awaiting the episode going to air.
I love to buy pants. I buy pants from an opshop and then I go home and cut the legs off so I have shorts. I cut em long so that over time they can fray up to my knees and then I throw them out (or just to the back of my cupboard) and start again. Recently though I have taken to wearing knee high socks. It started with my Saints footy socks and then sick of my compromise on the candy cane south melbourne socks I couldn't find anywhere I bought some candy cane shops from one of those asian teen fashion stores, also getting some golf check ones and skull and crossbone ones.
knee high socks are fucking great because they turn a pair of shorts practically into pants, once my shorts fray to the point my knees are exposed it's time to get a new pair anyway.
So my dress sense tends to follow an infinite form follows function follows form follows function cycle. Like just about everything else in life, chicken or the egg questions.
But what is the function of clothing. Whats the objective? we have shows like what not to wear which is hosted by two highly unnattractive british clapped out tarts. so what is the objective of what not to wear? why not? evidently they are eager to demonstrate that no matter what you do with your clothes you will be stuck with your face.
Then we have our politicians. I'm told the reason beards went out of western politics is that it was two openly associated with commies. But why the drab suits, why do labour leaders make themselves over every time in a desperate attempt to lose all credibility?
Why do girls dress in as revealing clothing as possible while most guys dress in the most concealing homeboy gear they can get?
So clothes perform a vast array of functions but predominantly they are a form of communication. I wear clothes that seek attention and differentiate me. I figure it's better to have everyone talking about how badly I dress than everyone not talking about me at all.
I read a book called female chauvinist pigs which I highly recommend everyone reads. A lot of girls apparently are locked in a competition of dressing because they want to be wanted. Which is no different from how I feel except the outcome (sex) of this process is more like a byproduct and not viewed as its own worthwhile and pleasurable goal. This is substantiated by the low incedence of guys trying to dress "hot" rather than cool and the low relative incidence of cunna lingus to felatio in teenagers. (incidentally a colleague of mine recently described muff diving [not that muff really exists anymore] as "fantastic, nothing better than a girls wet mush all over your face, nothing better" which was delivered in such an affectionate centre that was really the enjoyment of another enjoying themselves that I am inclined to agree with him.) The irony of the 'who can dress the skankiest' was best summarised by a teenage boy who said "they don't get it, I'm pretty sure guys have always been into girls anyway even if they don't dress like a pornstar' again I'm inclined to agree.
Everything I've read about what attracts is generally "the eyes" and "confidence" as in chicks dig confidence. Nothing about clothes, makeup any of that shit. Then there's a whole variety of women into a whole variety of things like long hair or short hair, tattoes or naturale, homeboy or country road, punk or techno blah blah fucken blah. So you can see the assumption I've already made and clumsily wasted your time leading you towards: that clothes are about attracting the opposite sex.
It would be nice if it was because then you could have a show called 'What not to wear' which we do except the hosts are not very attractive.
We even have best dressed lists which make no discernable sense whatsoever. I admit when I go visit ballarat and see a 40 year femullet wearing a fear factory shirt and tights and moccasins I think 'what the fuck are you thinking?' but you know there is a beauty in the ugliness and its definitely a style. Infact what she is thinking is that she probably has no interest in striking up a relationship with a punk kid from the big smoke who ties his hair in pigtails (function over form over function) wheres cut off pants with knee high socks to cover the distance between ankles and leg hole.
Just like that. And may I say from a marketing background this is the true value of clothing. The true winning strategy. If I want to avoid picking up aforementioned bogan (though really I love bogans and bush pigs) I should communicate it, just like I want to communicate that I'm not really on the market for a country road and gap wearing med student. So my clothing choice is just as much about repelling as attracting. Mind you I've got in relationships and still found myself expected to cut my hair, buy some boat shoes and shut the fuck up while we order the house red in St Kilda.
But you would notice that people who try to have universal appeal either end up appealing to noone and having short lived shallow relationships or worse hook up with another hollow charicature and have long lived shallow relationships eventually appearing on 'the block' with Jamie Durie defending themselves against accusations of 'plasticity'.
With all the above in mind I was sitting at my cubicle where not even being able to pretend to be busy and looking around the office thinking of the quote from one of my favorite books Lost Japan about an account of a tibetan monk comming across a chinese ambassador in the Qi dynasty and he got off his horse and was wearing a bright blue silk gown with orange dragons emblazoned all over it. The author rightly points out how drab politicians have become through democracies 'everything to everyone' appeal although we are seeing some progress towards differentiation like in the bush administrations last election strategy.
Same in the office place. When I first arrived there apparantly there was a 'lilac shirt day' which was a bit of a novelty and a couple of guys coordinated as a joke. I've been buying exciting and impracticle shirts to wear since then and the office has become a bit more colourful too which is good.
But again why? the function of clothes in the office seems to be 'avoid notice and avoid offence' now there are so many ways one can cause offense and I am personally offended when some guy with big bleached teeth, gelled hair and a tan in a white business shirt with a 'power' tie tries to sell me something yet the tendancy is that this is the least offensive way you can dress. Yet it's obviously unnatural and bullshit. Yes the salesperson can have undue influence on what product someone selects but in the end an owner has his fucking business' profits in his best interest so fuck it if the salesperson's ugly. If a business leader is more concerned about people respecting their status than making money why be in fucking business at all? (answer to maintain your status)
So I bought a book called fruits for when I start my business, I plan to plaster the pictures of the japanese teenagers all over cubicles (if my business has cubicles) so people can think about the assumptions of what is the function of clothing? why do we dress like we do? and leave people free to dress how they want (excluding OH&S requirements) and you know fucking express themselves in the process. Open communication and experiences of shared meaning strengthen the outcome of all relationships so yeah that's what I want.
The other great thing about fruits is that the kids in it for the most part seem to beyond their affiliation group seeking phase and are more about pure self actualisation and expression. Some of it is defiance like those fuckhead emo's and their goth predessessor but you do struggle to find to kids in the same style on two consecutive pages of fruits.
Anyway I plan to implement this when I do have a company, and your free to come work for it unless you don't feel secure working for a boss who wears a hairnet, latex gloves and old second hand clothes.
Man that was a clever fucking ending, in reality I'd probably just wear whatever I stood on in the morning getting out of bed (which is where I usually mix my clean and dirty clothes together).

Walking the streets

Was that...was that a jaberwokie? This I thought to myself when for the first time in years I was scared walking the streets of brunswick.
I must let you know that as of recently I had to cut off a very important relationship and left me with the daunting task of readjusting my life around it. This didn't help by arranging a catch up with another friend to make nachos in the same area as so many memories where associated. I went to the old supermarket, walked my old walking path and wasn't till I was apon the strange orange house that I realised how stupidly and foolishly I'd trapped myself. Which was a sign of progress.
But walking the streets on this cold night I gotta admit I felt a distinct emptiness. And I kept hearing these creepy noises. I was wearing my St. Kilda footy socks that I bought for the bright stripes pulled up to my knees to keep my legs warm and some jerkwad actually thought I was a saints supporter. That was scary too.
But seriously I walked past pub corners where I'd sat with friends now that had moved overseas and scattered. except I realised I'd just seen them all recently.
Losing someone like this a year ago, two years ago my skin would crawl.
I had preordained I was destined for some tragedy, freud would probably blame my mother, but my aspirations of what and who I wanted to be where terrifying and I got terrified of growing up, moving on and becoming me.
Whereas now when I beat the same old pavement even though that emptiness is there, it's more like a blank canvas, to paint a rollercoaster on that anyone and I mean anyone can hop on.
I want to be me. Potential Tom. The harder I push to get there, the more potential I tend to have.
But seriously have you read Alice through the looking glass recently, the jaberwokie is one scary beast.

WoW sucks

Usher released a song called 'confession' basically about what an irresponsible arsehole he was. And it was a hit, a big annoying hit and the ladies they love it. Well here's my confession: I've played World of Warcraft. I reached a point where I had given up on my love life and where does someone with no sexual prospects turn? World of Warcraft.
I bought it in time exactly for my assesment-exam period at Uni which was a dumb idea. I actually flirted with the idea of accepting money to track people down and remind them to you know shit, eat, sleep that sort of thing.
Relatively speaking my affair with WoW was short lived, it is addictive to be sure when I bought my copy the guy at the store said 'World of Warcraft is evil' and offered to just sell me smack but I said ignorantly that 'I could handle it'.
I didn't handle it very well I even started using loser lingo such as 'omw' and 'lfg' but never stooped so low as to use 'lol' and that was my first salvation. I didn't like other world of warcraft players. At all. I fucken hated them they were my antithesis. 16 year olds with voluntary combovers who recite monty python sketches and say fucking lol at me.
Yet WoW forces you to interact socially, it's no adventure game you gotta cooperate with douches and they can even fuck you over and stuff.
So as addicted as I was to advancing my troll and the sense of pride and joy and empowerment that bought with it I hated doing it. I would try and solo everything I could wasting valuable hours and 'gold & silver' in the high cost of armour repair.
But ultimately what 'cured' me was all role playing games greatest double criticism - double because it can be levelled at so many peoples real lives aswell.
Role playing games, that is games where the aim is to advance your avatar up levels so they become more powerful and better equipped is just as satisfying as real life. That is the sense of accomplishment you get from completing a quest is exactly the same as winning a race or doing a good project at work. Except they come thicker and faster.
There's no 'loser' option in RPG's and especially world of warcraft. A form of interaction so impersonal allows for self expression and there is no option but to get better stronger and more reputable.
But neither mindlessly advancing in a computer game or my career has much appeal to me so one day I just gave up playing it. I'm proud to say it wasn't when my account expired I just looked at the mindless goals I'd set myself and wasn't into it. I'd rather practice ball, write tv scripts all this shit.
If you know someone who's into WoW in a bad way don't abandon them, they probably need help. Give them a level like '32' in 'RL' (real life) to try and lure them away from the keyboard so they start exercising and trying to gain experience to reach level '33' together we can heal the world.
Also keep in mind that less than 1% of the worlds population owns a computer so while people are toiling in fields and struggling in subsistence economies you are realising the dream of development which is what? playing a fantasy game that is an alternative to achievement in real life.

100

My hundreth post such a landmark I started working on it 6 posts ago. what do you do? clowns, confetti a cake? real off the history and quote some statistics like '78,043 words, 32,876 grammatical errors' speach. I don't know the real question is why the fuck am I sill doing this? I started this blog in december. It had stigma, negative connotations. In fact I don't even know where I got the idea to blog. My intention was never to give a day by day, week by week account of my life but to get down my fundamental beliefs, what was important to me and some bitching too. To draw a line in the sand and say this is me. I started with enough ideas for 30 posts. I couldn't see myself making it past march but really I just wanted it down so I could stop being afraid of myself.
Johari's window was my first post, it highlighted this incredible discrepency in who I was as a leader or even member of the community. Here I had all this self awareness, I'd thought and probed and second guessed and refined my own self image so many times I had it down pat. I had done all the practice in order to closet myself away.
I hadn't disclosed who I was to anyone, people like my partner at the time, close friends and family probably had speculated and made assumptions that were pretty close to the truth but there was still room for surprises.
So what have I got out of blogging? I've written blogs I was truly embarrassed about, I've put down ignorant ill informed opinions, contradicted myself, taken stances against values of some of my dearest friends.
Nobody has treated me any worse. Some people treat me with more respect. The surprises are positive and pleasant.
In putting my thoughts down on paper or html I have understood them I've set the goals that have allowed me to recognise opportunities in almost every facet of my life. I never kept a diary but the blog became a fetish it kept me on because even though I realise there's noone out there that has read them all they prompted people who read them to engage me in my favorite conversation topic: me.
Opportunities abound and I have taken them. I've been attacked but my own weakness for personal consistency has held me up, because I have had to decide who I am, how I want to be percieved and who's the audiance I care about.
At different times I've been writing for the benefit of different people and often the never read it then someone else entirely contacts me or picks me up over what I've said and it all goes someplace else.
The other fucking thing is that I take myself seriously. I espouse the same opinions and tell the same stories about mancrushes, ducks and land value taxation at work and people think I'm a crazy eccentric kidder.
You know some day I'm going to actually read my own blog. I found my college magazine a few weeks back that i'd written a bunch of articles for. I read them because I had forgotten what I wrote and I find it hard to admit but I was laughing at myself, if I wasn't a lazier reader than I am a writer I'd fucking reproduce some of it here.
But I enjoy me. I enjoy me a lot. I've said of my basketball mancrush that 'he's so cool if I was a chick I'd be on my knees in the toilet in a second' even after reading female chauvinist pigs, but I'd probably do it for me too. Brenton my dearest friend brenton who isn't actually my dearest friend used to email me pictures and I'd email him crappy shite that we'd drawn in microsoft paint of the filthiest sexual situations we could imagine.
He did one of me building a cloning machine so I could fuck myself up the arse and you know what? why not? and why wouldn't you do yourself too?
The duration of this blog has matched just about universally dramatic improvement in almost every facet of my life from relationships, career, exercise, artistic endeavor, socialisation (although as early as friday I was once again labelled piker).
So is there any point to this monumental post. I'm a recommending you blog like a fad diet to rid yourself of your fat offputting soul? no.
Maybe if you want to like me more though you could post a comment right now and tell me what your favorite one has been and I'll try and be more like that for you. You ingrate voyueristic fucks.

Industries that should not exist 2

PR, let's take it back to first principles. Companies have public relations departments because they want to be viewed or percieved in the best possible light. Of course if PR's activities are legitimate they would merely be presenting the case as it appears to anyone who scrutinizes the companies activity to any reasonable level.
That anyone should be best represented by the media who represent the public interest in holding companies, governments and individuals to account. So for PR to be necessary the companies are admitting that they can't trust the press to portray them fairly.
If the media was doing it's fucking job and reporting the facts like it was taught to us in pre-school it did then companies wouldn't stand to gain by PR except to save the media time by publishing their internal report findings. Which isn't good to anyone because you can only ever find yourself guilty.
So why listen to the PR department at all? the sad thing is that question is too ofen answered by the media corporations PR department.
Go fucking figure.

Lex Luthor

Lex Luthor is bald, he also takes on Superman. Fucking Superman. Michael Jordon, bald (by choice I know) same as Shaq, Tim Alexander, Bruce Willis whatever. A lot of ungreat people are also bald John Howard, Koschey etc.
The other night I looked up in the mirror and noticed my hairline had receeded or had it? I don't know I never paid it any attention before. Looking back on old photos I couldn't tell either.
It was the most shameful I've ever acted to myself in my life. Not a week after posting a blog on why the beauty industry shouldn't exist I was racking my brains trying to think of the most legitimate treatment for reversing the balding process. Instead of walking the streets looking at cleavage my eyes where fixed on hairlines. After relaxing myself through meditation I located the ball of anxiety that had been a constant presence behind my brow and removed it.
I have thought about going bald, the solution was simple just shave my head. I remember my delight when I first shaved my head to discover I had a normal shaped head. It wasn't the ugly lumpy thing I had imagined it was. I was beautiful in every dynamic. I also thought about how I would behave if I was ever disfigured. Learning to accept a different reacition to me when I went out or met new people.
I had never counted on balding being this receeding hairline deal that was going to take place over the next 20 years requiring my judgement as to when to shave the dome or not.
At somepoint I do want to shave my hair down to the skin. I also want to have a mohawk during the airstrip phase, when I go gray I want to have long crazy hair like einstein or dread locks like an old hoodoo priest.
And I'd like to keep my hair long for another couple of years yet. It is a simble of my vitality to me and creative feminine flair.
As for my receeding hairline. I ended up having to conclude if it has receeded it has been so undramatic that as far as I can determine it happened some time between when I was 12 judging by photos and three days ago. I didn't notice didn't care. What shocked me is the realisation that I am going to age anyway, and that I may not notice which frankly is how I'd prefer it.
Overall experience has been positive, from checking out hairlines of men aged 16 to 60 I've realised that a) receeding hairlines are present in 9 out of 10 cases if indeed they are receeding I really cant tell because I never paid it any heed before. b) here was me not worried about my dreams but how I would look when I achieved them.
c) speaking of dreams if women who want childrens biological clock causes them this must stress and actually does put time pressure on achieving the dream (possibly explaining a high rate of divorce in our liberated society) it is ten times better to be a dude.
So I was out dining with two of my favorite people in the world Andy and Jerry and I raised my concern. Jerry concluded flatly yes, (my housemate concluded flatly no) then and here is the greatest thing Andy and Jerry got really excited for me like it was the greatest thing in the world. Not in any condescending way but literally 'You are no longer a child, it means you are a man!' 'An old man I don't want to be an old man' 'no not an old man a young man but not a child. You will be rich and wear armani suits now ...' they began to describe all the wonderful things that were going to happen to me now I was a 'man'.
Which is why I love Jerry and Andy. When I described how I hadn't been putting enough time into finding a girlfriend Jerry shook his head and said 'No tom, you will have the best, the best wife' I don't think any girl I could marry would actually live up to their standards, chinese guys like girls with 'big noses like white people' and 'very thick eyebrow' and shit most white guys opt asian to get away from.
But alas I walked away feeling really shit thinking am I at the end of an era, spontaneous playful arsehole tom? The answer is yes, in light of recent events I think I am at the end of an era. I'm no longer a uni student waiting for a chance to do something, I've started to actually effect other peoples lives and dreams. The answer is also no, I don't think my behaviour will change now or ever, young skin or old skin, hair no hair. It just cant because my image while being an expression of my personality has very little to do with causing it.
Another thing was that Jerry and Andy are exactly right, it is a great thing and I certainly feel more empowered and self aware than I did 5 years ago. More beautiful too when I used to paranoidly stare into the mirror to determine whether my nose had been deformed or not. My real pressing problem is that I hear people and don't listen to them. Which I have to stop if I want to be like Marcos, or Ricardo Semler, if I want to be a labradorian. If I want to be a humanist like Cosimo di Medici I have to listen and put faith in people so they can achieve more. Rather than spending two days worrying about how to stop my hairline receeding.

Dear Tom

I recently found a letter I wrote myself 6 months ago. It was one I was meant to hand to someone to send to me but forgot. Ironically whilst reading a book I couldn't put down I got an idea I had to write down which sent me looking for a folder and contrary to all my mothers wishes to organise I found it exactly where I left it on the floor of my bedroom where it has been sitting for 6 months, search time 1 second. How's that for efficiency.

My dearest sweetest Tom,

I aim to allow you to experience your own insightfulness motherfucker but you will have grown phenomenally in that time (exponentionally maybe) First and foremost I know you are a loving person and will have found more outlets to express your love by being more extraverted and putting in the effort to make more than token appearances at social functions. I also know in your new position you will have created opportunities for Carole, Ann, Clarissassippi and any other women that feel trod on by championing and selling the cause to ****** you will have job satisfaction. You will listen to people actively by using the non-responsive technique whenever you have presence of mind to do so and you will gain this presence of mind by acting on your own authority and setting up meetings but by also practicing meditation with discipline setting up an additional morning routine (in the evenings also but if your back to regular fucking at least showing more presence of mind). You will have fixed your posture by practice practice practice and possibly dad welding up something.
You will have pushed yourself to finish the TV project with Bryce, have it recorded and going to air . Even if you have to smack Bryce full in the face
You will be proud of how far you've come because you will have stopped the petty condescension even as you read this because that has to be the way of it because it isn't consistent with your beliefs and as such requires to much energy you loveable sloth.
You are patient because you rely on effective communication. So if your behind schedule you'll just have to resign yourself to the fact you probably can't sustain retirement anyway.
You will have figured out how to keep your mobile bill down and be still on your bike, you also wont work any overtime, you will have justified this by being productive, enthusiastic and dedicated.
Your just fucking awesome Tom
everything you do reinforces that
I don't think there's anyone
on earth I love more
remember that

xxoo

Tom

Development in the Developed Nation

7 million Australians live alone, out of 20 million alltogether this represents a huge proportion. Divorce is excellent for the property market, my double bed itself occupies more space than necessary for its sole occupant.
Last night I went out for dinner with marc from rew. I love the man dearly and we both share a common belief and value: life just can't consist of study [work]. On the way to meet marc in town I ran into no less than 5 people I knew on the crowded rush hour streets of melbourne. While it may be true that I wake up cold in the morning I am by no means isolated.
Yet people are trapped and alienated in society, commodified by fashion and reduced to wallpaper. Volunteer work is so unpopular at my workplace that they threw a party for me. Marc corrected my disgust by saying that such a small thing meant it was valuable to others what I do and that if people celebrate it it can inspire others.
We talked about people being trapped in bad relationships and how hard it seemed to become for people to say this is bringing me down I'm better off alone.
The young people in my department don't entertain any ideas of being there for the long haul. But all to often work becomes a trap, a relationship that is abusive and meaningless and takes the best years of our lives.
The very terminology of 'Developed' is wrong to apply to our society. Or America, Japan, The EU or the Asian Tigers. We are not there and possibly never will be. Whilst we can enjoy some benifits over 'developing' nations like high literacy, low infant mortality, low incedence of malnutrition it has given way to some declines in living standards like our high incedence of depression and mental illness, correalating substance abuse, obeisity, the breakdown of the family unit.
I have often thought of development that we seem to have this mentality as benefactors that we somehow got it right, which is wrong, not enough lateral thinking is applied to say 'We could build a society not based on oil and road' technology from the developed world can be filtered to bring in those that have a positive impact. Internet should have made cities obsolete. Affordable mass public transport like the bullet train is better than building road infrastructure particularly when communities are intimate tight nit pockets where bike and foot become quite practicle to service all local industries needs. Consumption habits can change or never be allowed to be as free wheeling as these things we value.
Butan did it: They set there major progress indicator as Gross National Happiness. I myself lived a low quality life where work dominated and taxed my energy levels and I came home aggressive and irate as I did nothing to feel any sense of progress in my life.
When I lost my love and became single for the first time since October 2001 I was confronted by the stark reality of my existence. Work remains a distraction for me but it is a fun little game. I constantly try to increase my productivity at work (making sure I am learning so as to be mutually benificial) and reducing the time it takes as I take on more flavour and colour in my life outside.
It is still less than ideal, work certainly doesn't provide me with a surplus of energy to take home and do the scriptwriting, blog posting, basketball, cycling and english tutoring that really has improved my quality of life.
But here's the thing, its so unusual for that attitude that I have actually been affecting a cultural change. Whilst everyone else seems snowed under with work forcing longer hours I am finding it hard to justify being there 8 hours a day.
So what of these other people my age working there? what do they do? What do they care about, what are their dreams? I got no idea. It all seems form over function, cut and dry.
Like me the majority are single, they earn money to dress up and go to nightclub and work their way through arseholes and bitchs. Their wages dissapear on petrol, tax, rent and liqour.
They don't go to church they go shopping. They don't think they watch big brother. When having my health assessment the nutritionist pointed out that I was a thinker and how rare that was.
Why do we work, save money and try and storm up the career ladder? to be happy, to have lifestyles we want to lead.
But it is simple to say this just isn't happening. Marc pointed out about the baby boomers, are they really just going to hang their boots up for 15 years, isn't this a massive drain on society and why is work in such a state that most people wouldn't want to do it.
Most people work because they like it, report after report determines that money has no impact on job satisfaction. The highest impact are those social ones and enough stress to indicate simply that the work you do is challenging.
I almost don' know stress. A few times I might have some emotional baggage to work through and that gets me on edge but generally when approaching things I've either been too confident of success or didn't care if I failed.
It is amazing what a benificial scam it is to go out in the community and do something. It's like negative gearing for the soul. My volunteer work has made me feel worthwhile, and it means the world to the people I give my time to. I have made more friends in the past 8 months than I did in my entire life before hand.
My ex has been in a foreign country for 4 months I realised with a shock this morning, the amount of time and change and learning I've done in this brief time made it feel like at least 8 months. I'm getting double the value out of life. I realised how much I've changed (something I've refused to acknowledge previously) that I was thinking how unrecognisable I'd be to her right now.
Except that I apparently look so the same that some of the old friends I ran into asked if I was still living and doing the exact same thing that I was doing three years ago.
But everyday is great for me now. This blog probably makes it sound like I've got a huge ax to grind but I'm more connected to my city, people and the world. I feel like someone, something almost like I should have my own wikipedia entry.
I feel great.

Why are you alive?

It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but damn the game if it don't mean nuttin
What is game? Who is game?
Where's the game in life behind the game behind the game
I got game, she's got game
We got game, they got game, he got game
It might feel good
It might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it ain't sayin nuttin - public enemy 'he got game'

I got a playlist on my ipod called 'isness of the business' named after an Arj Barker comment on how guys are different from girls, provocative & topical! I been listening to it and had crammed on a stack of basketball themed tracks.
Right now I go to work and try and find enough work to justify my being there 8 hours. I work for my company because it is an environmentally friendly and socially responsible one. I also work primarily to observe and learn. Learn the organisational structure, the politics, the procedures and the people.
Immeadiately on starting full time work I was struck by how meaningless a lot of people's lives were there.
A harsh and arrogant statement to be sure to be sure, but literally there are people who's lives consist of working in circles all day then going home and watching big brother. They threw a party for me at work because I do some volunteer work in the community have you ever heard anything more appalling.
I mean it's confronting to think these people are out there consuming for what amounts to little or no reason but possibly the fear of missing out.
So I've been designing my company, my work place from first principles. I filled half a note book and discovered that I don't really care about what it does (just as an engineering graduate doesn't care if they work for a plastic injection mold firm or a asphalt engineering firm) what I wanted was to create a workplace that people wanted to work for. And I don't mean work overtime hard to succeed or any shit. But that they wanted to come and experience like a theme park everyday. One that stimulates and arouses, provokes and inspires.
I'm not talking one that requires dress ups or posturing but one where an employee can have a personal philosophy, express themselves in the way they dress. Get exercise during the day. Simple things like playing music and art.
Maybe I've got an immaturity complex but kinder was pretty fun. I'd still enjoy it and not because I'm a peadophile but because I still have a short attention span and diverse interests.
I don't want a job I have to recharge for at night with my loved ones but one where I come home charged with energy for my loved ones. Probably the most important point.
I think of Allen Iverson and his 4 kids (including Allen II, Rasheed [for his murdered homie], and Messiah) tattooed on his body and how important it is for him. He plays a game yeah, that's his job and he gets paid more in a year than I will probably earn in my lifetime but he loves the game and can come home to be a good guy for his baby momma and babies.
Everyweekday I wake up before heading to work in a cold sweat of hoop dreams. I literally live for the weekend. Since I've been playing with short lightframed asians, almost universally 10 x more skilled than me I've been playing center position. When I used to play on cold winter's nights in ballarat I was a wimpy forward, I could chase down any gaurd on the layup but lacked the confidence to ever try and block them, do a layup, rebound, take a shot at goal etc. before switching teams my nickname was 'benchwarmer' fuck you jades!
Anyway having at least 5 kg on any of my oponents and generally being close to tallest everyweek I've been playing better. Last Saturday represented probably the greatest single moment in my life where on the rebound in one smooth motion I smacked it straight into the basket.
My man crush cheered for me and it felt better than sex. I was blushing like a schoolgirl.
So converse to public enemies I'm finding of late that basketball once a week fulfills my whole maslow pyramid. and I'm not kidding either. Yet work fulfills only my baseline needs, food security and a bit of social interaction.
So my question to all of yous is why are you alive? what do you live for? if you live for the weekend what do you do on it? what do you do to add colour and shape to your life? does the pursuit of your dreams cause you nothing but headaches? are you doing it are you reaching for those goals? or are you complaining about petrol price hikes and how much you hate michael on big brother?
It might feel good
it might sound a little somethin
but fuck the game if it don't mean nothin.
word.