Happy New Year
Blogwise:
- Introspection is what pretentious wankers substitute for intelligence.
- Reminiscing is what pretentious wankers substitute for real emotions.
So there will be none of that here... until I feel like being a pretentious wanker again. Yeah, it won't be long. I know.
Looks like my banner is out of order for a while. Villagephotos is doing maintenance work or something. So for now, my blog will remain nameless.
Christmas was good. And NYE is looking OK. But I don't really have much to write.
I think I now know my limits as a karaoke singer. I will venture no further than songs that rarely leave the mid-range notes. That doesn't leave me with much variety. Here are some rather daggy songs that I think I can sing OK.
Can't take my eyes off you
Can't fight this feeling (unless it's late at night and my voice goes croaky)
Cold, cold heart (although it would be even better if I knew how to yodel)
Amazed (this is getting boring)
Karma chameleon (usually pisses other people off when I sing this)
Mr Tambourine man (see above)
All for you (no one knows this song)
Most Frank Sinatra songs (possibly the easiest songs to sing)
Arms wide open (I can't really do his voice though)
Wherever you will go (I don't know this song too well so I tend to make bits of it up)
Next are some songs that I can't really sing but I try to anyway.
Don't wanna miss a thing (come on, it's Steve Tyler)
Remedy (I can't sound anything like him)
Why Georgia (most of it is easy except the bits that aren't easy)
Harder to breathe (holy crap, this is impossible!)
Bubbletoes (I can reach the notes, actually, but I still sound like crap doing it)
Finally, here are some songs that I'd love to sing but either isn't available at any karaoke places or once were available but no longer are.
Kiss (I used to like singing this but they took it off)
Come fly with me
For once in my life (the song all the Australian Idol contestants had to be able to sing)
Moondance
Curbside prophet (never gonna happen)
Your body is a wonderland (here is one John Mayer song I can sing but no one has it!)
I'll leave it there. Hope you guys have had a great Christmas and New Years.
Peace, love and mung beans.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Monday, December 22, 2003
The sketch artist
If you haven't yet discovered Ryan Adams or you've just been dismissing him as a depressing alcoholic anti-social bastard, now is the time to reconsider. If you think he's just another one in the current wave of retro-styled rockers, well now is the time to reconsider (even though he's only 29, he's been around for 10 years!). Listen to some of his new stuff here. From his new album Rock N Roll to his two EPs (all three CDs released within a month of each other) Love is Hell Parts 1 & 2, he's let go of a lot of the pretensions that other rock musicians (including himself, earlier in his career) try to pass off as honesty and he's producing some of his best stuff ever.
"I guess I've finally come to the realization that I'm never going to be Bob Dylan,"
"I'm not going to be any of my idols, and whatever delusions I had of becoming that good are crap. I am just a decent sketch artist. My music can be fun, funny, and I enjoy playing it. So that's what I'm gonna do. I am now the plaque on the teeth of alt-country."
Ryan, you're much better than you give yourself credit for.
If you haven't yet discovered Ryan Adams or you've just been dismissing him as a depressing alcoholic anti-social bastard, now is the time to reconsider. If you think he's just another one in the current wave of retro-styled rockers, well now is the time to reconsider (even though he's only 29, he's been around for 10 years!). Listen to some of his new stuff here. From his new album Rock N Roll to his two EPs (all three CDs released within a month of each other) Love is Hell Parts 1 & 2, he's let go of a lot of the pretensions that other rock musicians (including himself, earlier in his career) try to pass off as honesty and he's producing some of his best stuff ever.
"I guess I've finally come to the realization that I'm never going to be Bob Dylan,"
"I'm not going to be any of my idols, and whatever delusions I had of becoming that good are crap. I am just a decent sketch artist. My music can be fun, funny, and I enjoy playing it. So that's what I'm gonna do. I am now the plaque on the teeth of alt-country."
Ryan, you're much better than you give yourself credit for.
Monday, December 08, 2003
Something funny happened to me on the way to Grandma's house
Here's something:
Saturday morning, I got lost going to my friend's house. He lives about 10 minutes from me and I've known where he lives for about 10 years now.
Here's another thing:
In the afternoon, I lost my car in the Broadway shopping centre car park. It took me about 25 minutes to find it.
One final thing:
I forgot to bring my shoes to play basketball later that day. So I had to play with sandals.
Here's what I'm thinking:
I'm a moron.
I don't think I've always been a moron. But let's just say I'm not very happy with myself at the moment. My memory functions have been shot to pieces. I used to go to bookstores to find books. Then I'd remember their names and when I get to a computer, I look for a review of the book on Amazon.com. And then I come back to buy it. Nowadays, by the time I get to the computer, I've forgotten the name of the book already. OK, so I've gotten older but I'm far too young for this. When I told a friend about how I couldn't find my car in Broadway, he said 'maybe you have Parkinson's'. It took me much longer than it should have to realise that what he meant to say was Alzheimer's.
As Keanu once said, while pointing to his head, 'there's something wrong up here.' I don't know what it is. My motivation level is low. I'm even lazier than I've ever been. I do nothing but my weekly patterns. Work. Basketball. Drinking. Food. Then we start again. I have no passion for anything. I'm not depressed. But I'm far from content too.
I'd like to blame it on lack of sleep. But that might be too simplistic. Or maybe it's because I've been in the same job for far too long. But my favourite theory is that even after two years, I haven't gotten over my trip to Europe. That trip may have been both one of the best and worst things to happen to me. Best for obvious reasons. Worst for the reason that it gave me a glimpse of something which I can never have - that being the life of a bum that can eat, drink, sleep whenever and wherever I want. Move through days and weeks without the dread that tomorrow will be a working day. Wake up in the morning and go walking unshaven and do whatever I may be inclined to do at that time. All the freedom of a homeless bum, but with the financial security of knowing that I would never starve. And never have to sleep in open air unless it was by choice.
All I got was a glimpse. What I want is forever.
All I feel now is that I'm stalling. I've lived so long on potential alone. The potential of better and brighter tomorrows. And yet I'm doing nothing to fulfill them. I can tell myself that all my life so far has been set-up. And I clean the table with my next shot. But who am I trying to fool, really?
I don't know if this was what I was talking about at the start.
But I can't remember.
Maybe I've always been like this.
But I can't remember.
All I really want is to have the time of my life, every day of my life.
Is that really too much to ask?
Here's something:
Saturday morning, I got lost going to my friend's house. He lives about 10 minutes from me and I've known where he lives for about 10 years now.
Here's another thing:
In the afternoon, I lost my car in the Broadway shopping centre car park. It took me about 25 minutes to find it.
One final thing:
I forgot to bring my shoes to play basketball later that day. So I had to play with sandals.
Here's what I'm thinking:
I'm a moron.
I don't think I've always been a moron. But let's just say I'm not very happy with myself at the moment. My memory functions have been shot to pieces. I used to go to bookstores to find books. Then I'd remember their names and when I get to a computer, I look for a review of the book on Amazon.com. And then I come back to buy it. Nowadays, by the time I get to the computer, I've forgotten the name of the book already. OK, so I've gotten older but I'm far too young for this. When I told a friend about how I couldn't find my car in Broadway, he said 'maybe you have Parkinson's'. It took me much longer than it should have to realise that what he meant to say was Alzheimer's.
As Keanu once said, while pointing to his head, 'there's something wrong up here.' I don't know what it is. My motivation level is low. I'm even lazier than I've ever been. I do nothing but my weekly patterns. Work. Basketball. Drinking. Food. Then we start again. I have no passion for anything. I'm not depressed. But I'm far from content too.
I'd like to blame it on lack of sleep. But that might be too simplistic. Or maybe it's because I've been in the same job for far too long. But my favourite theory is that even after two years, I haven't gotten over my trip to Europe. That trip may have been both one of the best and worst things to happen to me. Best for obvious reasons. Worst for the reason that it gave me a glimpse of something which I can never have - that being the life of a bum that can eat, drink, sleep whenever and wherever I want. Move through days and weeks without the dread that tomorrow will be a working day. Wake up in the morning and go walking unshaven and do whatever I may be inclined to do at that time. All the freedom of a homeless bum, but with the financial security of knowing that I would never starve. And never have to sleep in open air unless it was by choice.
All I got was a glimpse. What I want is forever.
All I feel now is that I'm stalling. I've lived so long on potential alone. The potential of better and brighter tomorrows. And yet I'm doing nothing to fulfill them. I can tell myself that all my life so far has been set-up. And I clean the table with my next shot. But who am I trying to fool, really?
I don't know if this was what I was talking about at the start.
But I can't remember.
Maybe I've always been like this.
But I can't remember.
All I really want is to have the time of my life, every day of my life.
Is that really too much to ask?
Monday, December 01, 2003
Top 10 reasons why I'm cooler than you
I still use a Nokia 3210
I know all the words to T.U.R.T.L.E Power by Partners in Kryme
I go to karaoke on a Sunday afternoon
I have my own bathroom
I own Roxette's Look Sharp on vinyl
I don't have a cat
I eat banana with cheese
I know what the 'T' stands for in James T Kirk
I own both the Lion Force and the Vehicle Force Voltron toys
I have a blog
I still use a Nokia 3210
I know all the words to T.U.R.T.L.E Power by Partners in Kryme
I go to karaoke on a Sunday afternoon
I have my own bathroom
I own Roxette's Look Sharp on vinyl
I don't have a cat
I eat banana with cheese
I know what the 'T' stands for in James T Kirk
I own both the Lion Force and the Vehicle Force Voltron toys
I have a blog
Friday, November 28, 2003
When I went to Lourdes, France two years ago, I brought back a little wooden cross that I bought for only 6 francs. I've been wearing that cross around my neck every day since.
Last night, I lost it. I think I know where I lost it but by now it'd be far too late to try and retrieve it. The irony is that a part of me believes that bad karma contributed to me losing this piece of Catholic symbolism. But right now, I am in no mood to talk about such things.
It's upset me but I know that I get over these things perhaps quicker than I should, so this will be a written testimony that I am upset over the loss. It is one that is both physical and symbolic.
Last night, I lost it. I think I know where I lost it but by now it'd be far too late to try and retrieve it. The irony is that a part of me believes that bad karma contributed to me losing this piece of Catholic symbolism. But right now, I am in no mood to talk about such things.
It's upset me but I know that I get over these things perhaps quicker than I should, so this will be a written testimony that I am upset over the loss. It is one that is both physical and symbolic.
Thursday, November 27, 2003
Ghosts
I am sitting in front of my computer and I am typing away because there is a gun pointed at my head. When I turn towards the gun, he sticks it against my left temple and pushes me back towards the screen.
Write, he says. You snooze, you die, he says.
I am writing because I can feel the cold barrel of the gun against my temple.
I want to point out to him that 'die' doesn't rhyme with 'snooze' but he has a gun to my face.
Lose, I say. He says, what? And I say, nothing.
I am writing because the bullet is less than fifteen centimetres away from turning a quarter century of learning and development into an afterthought.
I begin with the girl who takes a picture of me. She goes home. On a plane. There's a guy sitting next to her that looks like John Laws. She takes a look at her holiday photos. Then I'm stuck.
I move on to the guy who goes back in time. He goes back in time to beat up on kids who used to bully him when he was a kid himself. Except maybe they never really did bully him because when he was a kid he already had his future self protecting him from these bullies. And at this point, I'm stuck.
He says, write. But I am tired. I'm hungry. He pushes the barrel of the gun harder into my head. I'm thinking a bed. I'm thinking donuts.
But I am writing because I want to live.
A girl falls in love with a zombie. A young man has to come to grips with the death of a clown, who also happens to be his sister. A pre-op transsexual finds love on a backpacking tour of a plague-stricken Europe.
I have a box full of stories waiting to be written, I tell him.
He says, then write them. I say, I can't. I'm too tired. He pushes the gun harder. I'm thinking a quilt on the couch and a bowl of chips.
He says, then what about me? Write me. I say, I can't. He says, why? I say, I don't know how it ends. I don't know how any of these stories end or begin. Or even how they middle. They're just ideas. They're sketches. Ghosts of the unborn and maybe never to be born. And now I'm tired. And I want to sleep.
No, he says. You sleep, you die. You don't write, you die.
I say, later. I say, no one is going to die tonight.
And I wave the gun away.
He watches me as I get up and stretch. There would be nothing good on TV right now so I think I'll read that book.
The sound of the light rain outside will help me sleep. I say, I'll see you again tomorrow. And I close my bedroom door behind me.
I am sitting in front of my computer and I am typing away because there is a gun pointed at my head. When I turn towards the gun, he sticks it against my left temple and pushes me back towards the screen.
Write, he says. You snooze, you die, he says.
I am writing because I can feel the cold barrel of the gun against my temple.
I want to point out to him that 'die' doesn't rhyme with 'snooze' but he has a gun to my face.
Lose, I say. He says, what? And I say, nothing.
I am writing because the bullet is less than fifteen centimetres away from turning a quarter century of learning and development into an afterthought.
I begin with the girl who takes a picture of me. She goes home. On a plane. There's a guy sitting next to her that looks like John Laws. She takes a look at her holiday photos. Then I'm stuck.
I move on to the guy who goes back in time. He goes back in time to beat up on kids who used to bully him when he was a kid himself. Except maybe they never really did bully him because when he was a kid he already had his future self protecting him from these bullies. And at this point, I'm stuck.
He says, write. But I am tired. I'm hungry. He pushes the barrel of the gun harder into my head. I'm thinking a bed. I'm thinking donuts.
But I am writing because I want to live.
A girl falls in love with a zombie. A young man has to come to grips with the death of a clown, who also happens to be his sister. A pre-op transsexual finds love on a backpacking tour of a plague-stricken Europe.
I have a box full of stories waiting to be written, I tell him.
He says, then write them. I say, I can't. I'm too tired. He pushes the gun harder. I'm thinking a quilt on the couch and a bowl of chips.
He says, then what about me? Write me. I say, I can't. He says, why? I say, I don't know how it ends. I don't know how any of these stories end or begin. Or even how they middle. They're just ideas. They're sketches. Ghosts of the unborn and maybe never to be born. And now I'm tired. And I want to sleep.
No, he says. You sleep, you die. You don't write, you die.
I say, later. I say, no one is going to die tonight.
And I wave the gun away.
He watches me as I get up and stretch. There would be nothing good on TV right now so I think I'll read that book.
The sound of the light rain outside will help me sleep. I say, I'll see you again tomorrow. And I close my bedroom door behind me.
Monday, November 24, 2003
Hey you
I bumped into you the other day and I have to say that I had a simply delightful time. I really have not had company so entertaining and stimulating in such a long time. You're like three breaths of fresh cool alpine air. So bursting with energy and enthusiasm. It felt as if you were breathing new life into me. You made me smile. You made me want to run and dance and sing (although admittedly, it doesn't take much to make me want to sing) and write over-the-top blog entries about you.
I shall hold back and only write one.
But you see, this isn't the first time. During our many years of acquaintance, my head always screams these same thoughts everytime our paths cross. But the problem is I always forget shortly after the euphoria and I forget about you until I see you the next time. And this has been happenning over and over again. Life often does tend to numb everything.
So now I am writing it all down.
So that I won't forget this time.
So that I will know.
The next time our roads converge.
I am looking forward to it already.
xtn...
I bumped into you the other day and I have to say that I had a simply delightful time. I really have not had company so entertaining and stimulating in such a long time. You're like three breaths of fresh cool alpine air. So bursting with energy and enthusiasm. It felt as if you were breathing new life into me. You made me smile. You made me want to run and dance and sing (although admittedly, it doesn't take much to make me want to sing) and write over-the-top blog entries about you.
I shall hold back and only write one.
But you see, this isn't the first time. During our many years of acquaintance, my head always screams these same thoughts everytime our paths cross. But the problem is I always forget shortly after the euphoria and I forget about you until I see you the next time. And this has been happenning over and over again. Life often does tend to numb everything.
So now I am writing it all down.
So that I won't forget this time.
So that I will know.
The next time our roads converge.
I am looking forward to it already.
xtn...
Friday, November 21, 2003
Things music-related
Australian Idol is now no more and Guy won. I'm happy he won but a part of me wishes that Shannon had won. But if Shannon had won, I would probably also say that a part of me wanted Guy to win. I like the two of them. Nice guys it would seem. I don't know if I'd buy their albums. Depends on the songwriting quality I guess.
What I did buy is the McDonald's/Australian Idol Karaoke DVD sampler for $4.95. And here's my review of it:
DON'T BUY IT!
It's horrible! It's full of McDonald's TV ads and songs by Idol contestants that couldn't even crack the top 12! Seriously, if I were to compile the most rubbish collection of snippets from the series into a DVD, it would still be slightly better than this. But I thought, it's for charity. Then I read that only $1 of the purchase went to charity. Damn! I should've just gave $5 straight to the Ronald McDonald House instead of buying this crap!
Here's a healthy piece of hyperbole:
Ryan Adams (NOT Byan Adams) is the greatest singer/songwriter still working today! This guy is a genius! Even when he's releasing his so-called B-grade stuff, it's still better than most others' A-grade stuff! He's got a new album called 'lloR N kcoR' and it's fantastic! He's got 3 CDs coming out this month. He originally wanted to release two EPs called Love is Hell but the record company said it was too depressing. So he made lloR N kcoR but now he's managed to release Love is Hell on top of that. Thank goodness there's this much good music coming in.
Australian Idol is now no more and Guy won. I'm happy he won but a part of me wishes that Shannon had won. But if Shannon had won, I would probably also say that a part of me wanted Guy to win. I like the two of them. Nice guys it would seem. I don't know if I'd buy their albums. Depends on the songwriting quality I guess.
What I did buy is the McDonald's/Australian Idol Karaoke DVD sampler for $4.95. And here's my review of it:
DON'T BUY IT!
It's horrible! It's full of McDonald's TV ads and songs by Idol contestants that couldn't even crack the top 12! Seriously, if I were to compile the most rubbish collection of snippets from the series into a DVD, it would still be slightly better than this. But I thought, it's for charity. Then I read that only $1 of the purchase went to charity. Damn! I should've just gave $5 straight to the Ronald McDonald House instead of buying this crap!
Here's a healthy piece of hyperbole:
Ryan Adams (NOT Byan Adams) is the greatest singer/songwriter still working today! This guy is a genius! Even when he's releasing his so-called B-grade stuff, it's still better than most others' A-grade stuff! He's got a new album called 'lloR N kcoR' and it's fantastic! He's got 3 CDs coming out this month. He originally wanted to release two EPs called Love is Hell but the record company said it was too depressing. So he made lloR N kcoR but now he's managed to release Love is Hell on top of that. Thank goodness there's this much good music coming in.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
Damn, I hadn't realised how shite this blog has gotten. I just hope it's not the same reason as the last time I really felt crap about my blog. I got nothing to write. I have an XBOX now. So what am I supposed to write - how my electronic alter ego is going in the world tennis rankings? How he's been twice beaten by Sebastian Grosjean and has 2-1 record against a fictitious tennis player named Gerhard Gide?
Other stuff in my life? Oh boy! I don't wanna be writing about that! There's nothing exciting. Especially since the last two times I've been to Happy Cup, that girl hasn't been there! What else? I've started yoga. That's pretty cool.
OK, this sucks. I'm going back to writing fiction.
Other stuff in my life? Oh boy! I don't wanna be writing about that! There's nothing exciting. Especially since the last two times I've been to Happy Cup, that girl hasn't been there! What else? I've started yoga. That's pretty cool.
OK, this sucks. I'm going back to writing fiction.
Monday, November 17, 2003
I have a mantra.
When things get bad or boring or complicated or I just want to avoid life, I say two words:
OTM SHANK
and I start laughing uncontrollably and the world becomes just that much nicer.
I even start laughing out of nowhere on trains or other public places. It's ridiculous. You may need to watch a particular Simpsons episode to appreciate it though. I was gonna explain but then I started with 'Well they were in the cinema and then Lisa saw...' um... it just wasnt gonna work. Had to be there.
OTM SHANK
Hehe :)
When things get bad or boring or complicated or I just want to avoid life, I say two words:
OTM SHANK
and I start laughing uncontrollably and the world becomes just that much nicer.
I even start laughing out of nowhere on trains or other public places. It's ridiculous. You may need to watch a particular Simpsons episode to appreciate it though. I was gonna explain but then I started with 'Well they were in the cinema and then Lisa saw...' um... it just wasnt gonna work. Had to be there.
OTM SHANK
Hehe :)
Thursday, November 13, 2003
This has been edited. Now it's back to the original.
I’m not bitter (The monkey song)
It must have started in 99
Or some such year I no longer remember
Guess I crossed that invisible line
On a stupid day in that December
Not over it or behind
When I came too close you pushed me away
You had me in such a bind
Cos you’d also never let me stray
That’s all I have to say now
I’ve left. I’ve taken my bow
Well I hear you’ve got your monkey
So I hope you’re happy now
Cats and dogs to me are fine
But you don’t like them to walk on four
When you smiled the sun would shine
All other days it would just pour
That’s all I have to say now
I’ve left, you stupid cow
So you’ve got your friggin’ monkey
Well you better be happy now
So I’m walking, so I’m singing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
I’m not bitter, I’ve just been drinking
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
It’s a monkey, what are you thinking?
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
And you’re a… damn, what was I thinking?!
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
I’m not bitter (The monkey song)
It must have started in 99
Or some such year I no longer remember
Guess I crossed that invisible line
On a stupid day in that December
Not over it or behind
When I came too close you pushed me away
You had me in such a bind
Cos you’d also never let me stray
That’s all I have to say now
I’ve left. I’ve taken my bow
Well I hear you’ve got your monkey
So I hope you’re happy now
Cats and dogs to me are fine
But you don’t like them to walk on four
When you smiled the sun would shine
All other days it would just pour
That’s all I have to say now
I’ve left, you stupid cow
So you’ve got your friggin’ monkey
Well you better be happy now
So I’m walking, so I’m singing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
I’m not bitter, I’ve just been drinking
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
It’s a monkey, what are you thinking?
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
And you’re a… damn, what was I thinking?!
Sha la la la la la la la la la la
Monday, November 10, 2003
Dancing Tiger Hidden Party
Now that was cool. Not that it was actually my birthday. Yet. But close enough. It sure felt like it was my birthday.
Thanks to:
Stephen and Lillian. Everyone who came. Everyone who couldn't come and told me that they couldn't. All the guys who came early. Even earlier than I did. Everyone who stayed til the end. My family who came. DJs Pulsar, Nud-e and the other guy. You were good. I just couldn't hear your name over all the noise. Everyone who got me drinks. Everyone who got me presents. The two fools who hung around with me til 6:30am. Everyone who came not knowing many people or someone OTHER THAN me. Thanks for your effort. It's appreciated. Really. It is.
Apologies to:
Anyone who couldn't get in. We grossly miscalculated numbers. But please next time call us if they don't let you in. Some did and they eventually got in so there! Everyone who I haven't seen for a while (or eons) but I couldn't spare much time catching up with. We'll catch up another time. Soon.
Dubious acknowledgements to:
Everyone who kept making 'Time out' signs at me all night.
Did I mention it was cool? Well it was. Cool. We'll do another one maybe. Bigger place maybe. Did I mention it was... oh yeah. I did.
Now that was cool. Not that it was actually my birthday. Yet. But close enough. It sure felt like it was my birthday.
Thanks to:
Stephen and Lillian. Everyone who came. Everyone who couldn't come and told me that they couldn't. All the guys who came early. Even earlier than I did. Everyone who stayed til the end. My family who came. DJs Pulsar, Nud-e and the other guy. You were good. I just couldn't hear your name over all the noise. Everyone who got me drinks. Everyone who got me presents. The two fools who hung around with me til 6:30am. Everyone who came not knowing many people or someone OTHER THAN me. Thanks for your effort. It's appreciated. Really. It is.
Apologies to:
Anyone who couldn't get in. We grossly miscalculated numbers. But please next time call us if they don't let you in. Some did and they eventually got in so there! Everyone who I haven't seen for a while (or eons) but I couldn't spare much time catching up with. We'll catch up another time. Soon.
Dubious acknowledgements to:
Everyone who kept making 'Time out' signs at me all night.
Did I mention it was cool? Well it was. Cool. We'll do another one maybe. Bigger place maybe. Did I mention it was... oh yeah. I did.
Friday, November 07, 2003
I wanted to post a comment on Riss' blog but it failed twice so I've given up. However, I just looked up the ten commandments on the net and apparently the Catholic version is different from the Protestant version. Though basically the same, the Protestants have an extra commandment against the worshipping of idols while clumping 'wife', 'ox' and 'ass' in the one group of your neighbour's possessions that you may not covet. The Catholics give coveting the wife its own commandment. Both however have 'Keep holy the Sabbath'
They should have an extra one saying 'Though shalt not think of fish as not being meat.'
All this is rather a non issue though, since Jesus has since come in with his own two easier-to-remember commandments (the NEW covenant) that has effectively rendered the old ten obselete.
'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind, and love your neighbour as yourself.'
They should have an extra one saying 'Though shalt not think of fish as not being meat.'
All this is rather a non issue though, since Jesus has since come in with his own two easier-to-remember commandments (the NEW covenant) that has effectively rendered the old ten obselete.
'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind, and love your neighbour as yourself.'
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Here's my proposal for a new fast-food restaurant chain. I may post more on it in the future.
CHRISTIAN'S HOUSE OF GOAT (CHG)
‘So good, you’ll be lickin’ your chinny chin chin!’
Menu
Burgers
Big Bad Billy: Three flame-grilled all-goat patties, special goat’s milk herb mayonnaise, lettuce, goat’s cheese, pickles, onion, on a sesame seed bun.
Quarter-pound goat feast: Quarter-pound flame-grilled all-goat patty, ketchup, lettuce, goat’s cheese, tomato, beetroot, onions.
Goat’s cheese burger: Flame-grilled all-goat patty, goat’s cheese, onions, pickles, ketchup.
The Devil: Fillet of goat cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices coating, special spicy chilli sauce, lettuce, goat’s cheese.
Others
Goat pieces: Goat chops cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices - per piece or in packs of 6, 12 or bucket of 30.
Goat nuggets: Bite-sized goat fillets cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices – 5-pack, 11-pack, 19-pack, 60-monster pack.
Horny fries: Horn-shaped potato fries with spicy seasoning.
Meal deals
Burger meals: Any burger, Horny fries, soft drink.
2-pack’a’goat meal: Two pieces of goat, Horny fries, soft drink.
Death by Goat: Big Bad Billy, 2 pieces of goat, 6-pack goat nuggets, Horny fries, Goat shake.
Beverages
Soft drinks: Coke, Fanta, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Creaming soda
Goat shake: Goat’s milk shakes – Chocolate, Vanilla, Avocado, Pineapple
Freezing Goat: Goat’s milk sundaes – Chocolate, Cherry, Caramel
CHRISTIAN'S HOUSE OF GOAT (CHG)
‘So good, you’ll be lickin’ your chinny chin chin!’
Menu
Burgers
Big Bad Billy: Three flame-grilled all-goat patties, special goat’s milk herb mayonnaise, lettuce, goat’s cheese, pickles, onion, on a sesame seed bun.
Quarter-pound goat feast: Quarter-pound flame-grilled all-goat patty, ketchup, lettuce, goat’s cheese, tomato, beetroot, onions.
Goat’s cheese burger: Flame-grilled all-goat patty, goat’s cheese, onions, pickles, ketchup.
The Devil: Fillet of goat cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices coating, special spicy chilli sauce, lettuce, goat’s cheese.
Others
Goat pieces: Goat chops cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices - per piece or in packs of 6, 12 or bucket of 30.
Goat nuggets: Bite-sized goat fillets cooked with Christian’s 13 secret herbs and spices – 5-pack, 11-pack, 19-pack, 60-monster pack.
Horny fries: Horn-shaped potato fries with spicy seasoning.
Meal deals
Burger meals: Any burger, Horny fries, soft drink.
2-pack’a’goat meal: Two pieces of goat, Horny fries, soft drink.
Death by Goat: Big Bad Billy, 2 pieces of goat, 6-pack goat nuggets, Horny fries, Goat shake.
Beverages
Soft drinks: Coke, Fanta, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Creaming soda
Goat shake: Goat’s milk shakes – Chocolate, Vanilla, Avocado, Pineapple
Freezing Goat: Goat’s milk sundaes – Chocolate, Cherry, Caramel
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Jakarta
Picture me on the dance floor wearing a pure wool suit. Outside, it’s 31 degrees. I’m dancing to ‘Can’t take my eyes off you’ with this girl who I thought was my age but turns out to be 30. Behind me I have my mother, grandmother and some assorted uncles and aunties watching my back. It’s hot, a little awkward and slightly uncomfortable. But I’m feeling strangely fine and I’m having a good time.
This pretty much sums up my trip to Indonesia.
Jakarta is a craphole of a city and besides the food, truth be told, I didn’t really want to go back.
It took us over two hours to get to the hotel from the airport. A ride that shouldn’t ever take more than 45 minutes. We go through four tollways along the way.
Jakarta is about the only city I’ve heard of that has five cars driving abreast on a three-lane road and every driveway you come in and out of has some ‘parking officer’ asking for money. The traffic along the freeways are so slow that there are kids walking between the cars and bikes and bajajs, selling cigarettes and deep-fried tofu. Or tofu and deep-fried cigarettes. I can’t remember which. The streets are so filthy and poverty-stricken that you might actually hear someone say ‘Let’s go inside for some fresh air’ or some Indonesian equivalent.
But let’s face it, I don’t live any of this. None of my family do. We look out into the filth from windows of air-conditioned buildings. We’re driven from these air-conditioned buildings to other air-conditioned buildings in air-conditioned cars by paid drivers. We have maids. What accentuates the poverty in this place is the fact that my usually working class Australian arse gets a chance to be wiped with gold-gilded toilet paper for once and the feeling is rather jarring.
I went on this trip for my cousin’s wedding. I went mostly because I wanted to see some of these people again that haven’t seen me since before I reached puberty. I wanted to experience a big-arse 1100-guest Indonesian wedding at Jakarta’s Grand Hyatt while hopefully dodging any potential bombings that may come.
The wedding was nice and fun. But so was the city itself. So was trying to speak the best Indonesian I knew how (and not the mish mash baby babble I speak at home). I basked myself in the overpriced luxuries that Jakarta offers to its high and mighty. I was amused that everywhere I went, there was at least a 3:1 employee to customer ratio.
Jakarta is the epitome of inefficiency. At this one food court, you first have to buy coupons, then take the coupons to get your food. You then get your change back in coupon form which you have to convert back to money at the coupon counter. To add to that, there are four people manning each coupon counter while each counter can only serve one customer at a time. So I guess that’s one person to make the transaction, one to collate the money and a third to stamp the coupons with the current date. The Fourth, I suppose, is the designated nose-picker. Or the one that shrugs whenever you ask them a question and the other three are too busy to respond. They must do a rotation.
After lunch, when you decide to go shopping, you’ll be followed around the stores by someone holding three or four options of what you might like to buy. When you finally find a shirt you like on the rack (which is probably NOT one of the three or four options presented to you) you’ll ask where the change room is, only to be directed to someone else who’ll know where whoever it is that’s manning the change rooms is. After you decide to buy it, someone will take the shirt off you and direct you to a counter where you will pay for the item. You will then be given a coupon which you will take to another counter where you can pick up the goods.
What’s not to love about that?
I suppose a third-world country of 200 million people has to provide jobs to its citizens somehow.
Places I liked
Pondok Laguna: One of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to. Mostly seafood and other assorted Indonesian dishes. If they opened one here, they’d make an absolute killing.
Blowfish: A trendy bar/nightspot with the best views you can get in Jakarta.
Kelapa Gading: There’s a huge mall there with many stores yet to open. Also has an eat street much like Singapore’s Clarke Quay and Boat Quay, except it’s facing a sewer pipe instead of open water. It’s still nice though.
__________
Singapore
Nothing much to report here. Always nice. The highlight, I suppose, was going clubbing and then finishing off the night with grilled sting ray and satays at Newton’s Hawker’s Centre at around 3am.
Places I liked
Zouk: Their world-famous nightclub.
Newton Hawker’s Centre: Went there twice. Fresh seafood cooked right in front of you. Plus other stuff. You should see the size of these tiger prawns!
Picture me on the dance floor wearing a pure wool suit. Outside, it’s 31 degrees. I’m dancing to ‘Can’t take my eyes off you’ with this girl who I thought was my age but turns out to be 30. Behind me I have my mother, grandmother and some assorted uncles and aunties watching my back. It’s hot, a little awkward and slightly uncomfortable. But I’m feeling strangely fine and I’m having a good time.
This pretty much sums up my trip to Indonesia.
Jakarta is a craphole of a city and besides the food, truth be told, I didn’t really want to go back.
It took us over two hours to get to the hotel from the airport. A ride that shouldn’t ever take more than 45 minutes. We go through four tollways along the way.
Jakarta is about the only city I’ve heard of that has five cars driving abreast on a three-lane road and every driveway you come in and out of has some ‘parking officer’ asking for money. The traffic along the freeways are so slow that there are kids walking between the cars and bikes and bajajs, selling cigarettes and deep-fried tofu. Or tofu and deep-fried cigarettes. I can’t remember which. The streets are so filthy and poverty-stricken that you might actually hear someone say ‘Let’s go inside for some fresh air’ or some Indonesian equivalent.
But let’s face it, I don’t live any of this. None of my family do. We look out into the filth from windows of air-conditioned buildings. We’re driven from these air-conditioned buildings to other air-conditioned buildings in air-conditioned cars by paid drivers. We have maids. What accentuates the poverty in this place is the fact that my usually working class Australian arse gets a chance to be wiped with gold-gilded toilet paper for once and the feeling is rather jarring.
I went on this trip for my cousin’s wedding. I went mostly because I wanted to see some of these people again that haven’t seen me since before I reached puberty. I wanted to experience a big-arse 1100-guest Indonesian wedding at Jakarta’s Grand Hyatt while hopefully dodging any potential bombings that may come.
The wedding was nice and fun. But so was the city itself. So was trying to speak the best Indonesian I knew how (and not the mish mash baby babble I speak at home). I basked myself in the overpriced luxuries that Jakarta offers to its high and mighty. I was amused that everywhere I went, there was at least a 3:1 employee to customer ratio.
Jakarta is the epitome of inefficiency. At this one food court, you first have to buy coupons, then take the coupons to get your food. You then get your change back in coupon form which you have to convert back to money at the coupon counter. To add to that, there are four people manning each coupon counter while each counter can only serve one customer at a time. So I guess that’s one person to make the transaction, one to collate the money and a third to stamp the coupons with the current date. The Fourth, I suppose, is the designated nose-picker. Or the one that shrugs whenever you ask them a question and the other three are too busy to respond. They must do a rotation.
After lunch, when you decide to go shopping, you’ll be followed around the stores by someone holding three or four options of what you might like to buy. When you finally find a shirt you like on the rack (which is probably NOT one of the three or four options presented to you) you’ll ask where the change room is, only to be directed to someone else who’ll know where whoever it is that’s manning the change rooms is. After you decide to buy it, someone will take the shirt off you and direct you to a counter where you will pay for the item. You will then be given a coupon which you will take to another counter where you can pick up the goods.
What’s not to love about that?
I suppose a third-world country of 200 million people has to provide jobs to its citizens somehow.
Places I liked
Pondok Laguna: One of the best restaurants I’ve ever been to. Mostly seafood and other assorted Indonesian dishes. If they opened one here, they’d make an absolute killing.
Blowfish: A trendy bar/nightspot with the best views you can get in Jakarta.
Kelapa Gading: There’s a huge mall there with many stores yet to open. Also has an eat street much like Singapore’s Clarke Quay and Boat Quay, except it’s facing a sewer pipe instead of open water. It’s still nice though.
__________
Singapore
Nothing much to report here. Always nice. The highlight, I suppose, was going clubbing and then finishing off the night with grilled sting ray and satays at Newton’s Hawker’s Centre at around 3am.
Places I liked
Zouk: Their world-famous nightclub.
Newton Hawker’s Centre: Went there twice. Fresh seafood cooked right in front of you. Plus other stuff. You should see the size of these tiger prawns!
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Our empty wonderland
Hung up the telephone
Said our goodbye
Fall back to sleep tonight
But with eyes open you lie
Showed you a new mountain
Took away your hope
Gave you a new burden
Then let go of the rope
I know you don’t know the score
I know you’ve never been here before
Just work up a smile
Empty your mind
Don’t try to fight
Tomorrow will be bright
Just close your eyes
Take hold of my hand
Turn down the light
By dawn, we’ll be alright
Turn off the taps
Reverse the blood’s flow
Wear your new glasses
It’s already tomorrow
Yawn to your troubles
It’s not overflowing
Just look to the rooster
That’s where you’ll be going
I know there are things that you’ll miss
This isn’t a lesson, it just is
Just walk down a mile
Head up in the sky
Don’t lose sight
Leave that for another night
Just close your eyes
A new world waits
Forget what might
We’re here, we’ll be alright
We’ll sing and dance
We’ll start a band
Anything has a chance
In our empty wonderland
Hung up the telephone
Said our goodbye
Fall back to sleep tonight
But with eyes open you lie
Showed you a new mountain
Took away your hope
Gave you a new burden
Then let go of the rope
I know you don’t know the score
I know you’ve never been here before
Just work up a smile
Empty your mind
Don’t try to fight
Tomorrow will be bright
Just close your eyes
Take hold of my hand
Turn down the light
By dawn, we’ll be alright
Turn off the taps
Reverse the blood’s flow
Wear your new glasses
It’s already tomorrow
Yawn to your troubles
It’s not overflowing
Just look to the rooster
That’s where you’ll be going
I know there are things that you’ll miss
This isn’t a lesson, it just is
Just walk down a mile
Head up in the sky
Don’t lose sight
Leave that for another night
Just close your eyes
A new world waits
Forget what might
We’re here, we’ll be alright
We’ll sing and dance
We’ll start a band
Anything has a chance
In our empty wonderland
Monday, October 13, 2003
Happiness in a cup
I have a crush on the Happy Cup girl at my train station. She gives me a cup and it makes me happy. And she only charges me $3.00 plus an extra 50c if I want pearls with it.
I’ve been there twice now. And she’s very slow. But she’s also very nice. She can take up to 5 minutes just making one drink. But I suppose that’s 5 minutes well-spent. I don’t know how she manages during peak hours though.
She’s pretty, she feeds me and she speaks English well. What more can I want, really?
I guess it’s pretty early in our relationship at the moment to tell anything. Maybe eventually she’ll get to know me so well that she won’t even have to ask anymore if I want pearls. She’ll just know. Then we’ll work on our names.
Then we’d really be getting somewhere.
I have a crush on the Happy Cup girl at my train station. She gives me a cup and it makes me happy. And she only charges me $3.00 plus an extra 50c if I want pearls with it.
I’ve been there twice now. And she’s very slow. But she’s also very nice. She can take up to 5 minutes just making one drink. But I suppose that’s 5 minutes well-spent. I don’t know how she manages during peak hours though.
She’s pretty, she feeds me and she speaks English well. What more can I want, really?
I guess it’s pretty early in our relationship at the moment to tell anything. Maybe eventually she’ll get to know me so well that she won’t even have to ask anymore if I want pearls. She’ll just know. Then we’ll work on our names.
Then we’d really be getting somewhere.
Friday, October 10, 2003
xtn according to Emode
As you can see, I went nuts with Emode. I shall never do this again.
- Your belief system is best suited to religions that value salvation from sin
Your score shows that you share core beliefs with religions that offer to deliver you from sin or save you from evil.
Some religions assert that all people are born with original sin and must seek salvation. They also maintain that a savior has come to save humankind and that you can find salvation by accepting this as the truth. You are attracted to spiritual groups that believe salvation is possible and encourage you along that path.
- Your IQ score is 129
During the test, you answered four different types of questions — mathematical, visual-spatial, linguistic and logical. We also compared your answers with others who have taken the test, and according to the sorts of questions you got correct, we can tell your Intellectual Type is a Facts Curator.
This means you are highly intelligent and have picked up an impressive and unique collection of facts and figures over the years. You've got a remarkable vocabulary and exceptional math skills — which puts you in the same class as brainiacs like Bill Gates. And that's just some of what we know about you from your test results.
- Your subconscious mind is driven most by Peace
You have a deeply-rooted desire to make peace in the world. Whether through subtle interactions with loved ones, or through getting involved in social causes, it is important to you to be able to influence the world in a positive way.
You have a deep respect for humankind. You care about the future of the world, even beyond your own involvement in it, and you inspire others to feel the same way. Your innate drive toward peace guides you in daily life towards decisions that are respectful toward yourself and others.
- Your true talent is verbal ability
You seem to know how to pick the right words for almost every occasion. Beyond your ability to interpret information and articulate your points, you appear to understand the power and aesthetic appeal behind language. Your verbal knowledge can make you versatile in expressing yourself. And your skills in this arena also allow you to pick up subtle meanings behind what people say.
- Your Emotional IQ is 112.
So, where are you most emotionally smart? Your test results show that your strongest suit is perception — your ability to pick up on what others are feeling.
Because of this, you are unusually good at reading people's verbal and non-verbal cues. You're especially aware of the subtleties of people's actions, and can feel out the vibe of a situation better than many. That gives you and edge many wish they had. People with high perception skills like yours, however, tend to rely on them to the exclusion of others. As a result, they sometimes have underdeveloped abilities in other realms of critical emotional intelligence like managing emotions, empathy, and being expressive.
- You're a Rock Star!
Your personality is actually determined by two personality sub-types - your primary, or dominant sub-type, and your secondary sub-type. You are a Rock Star which means you are a Success / Seeker. Your primary sub-type is defined by "Success" characteristics and your secondary sub-type is defined by "Seeker" characteristics.
That means you crave attention, the limelight, and the fawning admiration of millions. Chances are you have a bevy of fans and friends, and you like knowing how much others appreciate you. On top of this, you're a go-getter and you really shine under pressure.
- When it comes to psychic abilities, you have an unusually strong talent in the area of Retrocognition
This means you have an uncanny ability to look into the past at events that perhaps you had no part in and actually see what happened. This may happen with someone you are close to where you just know that for example, their father was too strict or that they were picked on in school. Perhaps you can even imagine the actual setting in which it happened. Oftentimes these imaginings are more than something your mind "made-up." What you are witnessing is actually true.
This is a highly valuable skill that can be used in any social setting to help to understand the people you are dealing with or aspects of the actual physical setting you happen to find yourself in. For instance, say you are in-between buying one of two houses and you apply your gift to learn that one property has a history of positive experiences and the other was a former battleground. For the sake of wanting to live on a property with more positive energy, you may then choose to buy the house with the more positive psychic history.
- You're a Type 2 - The Humanitarian
Friends, family, and colleagues probably appreciate your caring and generous nature. They're also apt to know that when they come to you with a problem, you'll usually offer a shoulder to cry on and unparalleled compassion. As a Humanitarian, you're likely to be seen as a loving and helpful person with a kind heart.
Being a member of this type puts you in good company. Mother Teresa, with her tireless devotion to aid the sick and destitute members of society, and Bishop Desmond Tutu, with his emphasis on nonviolent protest against racial injustices, are also Type 2s
This means that compared to the eight other Enneagram types, you have a strong sense of empathy for other people. In fact, you're the kind of warm, sincere person who can be uniquely capable of seeing the good in others.
- You're happier than 48 percent of the other people who took Emode's Happiness Test.
Your test results show that your relationships help you feel happier overall. This means that you often find joy in the people who make up your support network. You may also tend to gravitate toward communities that mirror your values. Because you ordinarily feel comfortable relating to other people, you can gain a real sense of belonging and connection.
- You are Balanced-brained
That means you are able to draw on the strengths of both the right and left hemispheres of your brain, depending upon a given situation.
When you need to explain a complicated process to someone, or plan a detailed vacation, the left hemisphere of your brain, which is responsible for your ability to solve problems logically, might kick in. But if you were critiquing an art opening or coming up with an original way to file papers, the right side of your brain, which is responsible for noticing subtle details in things, might take over.
While many people have clearly dominant left- or right-brained tendencies, you are able to draw on skills from both hemispheres of your brain. This rare combination makes you a very creative and flexible thinker.
The down side to being balanced-brained is that you may sometimes feel paralyzed by indecision when the two hemispheres of your brain are competing to solve a problem in their own unique ways.
- Your destiny is to be a Provider
Whether you know it or not, this is the role that is most in tune with who you are at your core. As a Provider, you have a genuine nurturing concern for the welfare of others and you're eager to serve them. You can recognize exactly what people need and your friendly, helpful, social nature makes them feel comforted. With your kind and generous heart, you are personable, talkative, and outward with your emotions, and your openness and sensitivity makes you concerned about the way others view you. Along these lines, be careful not to blame yourself when things go wrong. You cannot prevent bad things from happening, even though your tendency to be orderly with a strong sense of right and wrong may lead you to believe you can. Accept that you do what you can to take care of things and that this will get you far in the world. Bill Clinton, Mary Tyler Moore, and Sally Field are also Providers.
- Your career personality type is ESFP
That means that based on the standard measure of personality traits, you are well-balanced and place equal importance on work as on your personal life. You are dedicated to maintaining a level of culture in your life and therefore won't sacrifice interesting work for high pay.
With your high energy and chameleon-like adaptabilities, you seek work that is fast-paced and ever-changing. Working directly with people provides you with that outlet. On top of it, you have an uncanny ability to keep peace and maintain a level of serenity and happiness in your environment. If emotions flare up in the room, people look to you to pull out a story or joke that deflates the tension.
You prefer to live in the moment and appreciate what life and work offer now. The future is unknowable and does not draw you in like the present. Part of your easy-going outlook toward the future has to do with knowing that you can adapt to whatever comes your way.
The reason employers and recruiters might be on the lookout for you is that only about 8% of the U.S. population shares the unique characteristics of your personality type. Research shows that businesses succeed when employers create a good balance of personality types in the office. And since only 8% of the U.S. population shares your type, that means employers are looking for you.
- Your values help make you a Privacy Guardian
Even when left alone with someone's most valuable secrets, you appear to be one of those rare people who could forego the opportunity to snoop. Because you're one who usually places a high value on privacy — yours as well as other people's — you're someone who can ordinarily be trusted not to let the skeletons out of other people's closets. Because you like to keep your business to yourself and prefer that others do the same, you're not likely to become embroiled in others' battles or concerns. You're more apt to feel that it's better to focus on your own actions and welfare, rather than face the potential consequences of meddling.
The values types you're most likely to click with — whether in business relationships or in love — are those types that most closely resemble your own set of values. As a result, people with the same type are usually the most compatible. But besides being with another Privacy Guardian, the two types that you most closely match with are Loyal Rebel and Resourceful Independent.
- In the last year you've earned 716 karma points
You've earned these points by doing good things, therefore allowing good things to circle back to you. There are 6 different ways people earn karma, and by looking at your responses to this test, we can tell that your caring nature is earning you the most karma.
You seem to be one of those people who has an uncanny ability to anticipate and meet the needs of others around you. This nurturing quality has helped you earn your karma up to this point. Your thoughtfulness strengthens your current relationships, and suggests that such kindnesses will be repaid to you some time in the future. Through your concerted efforts to express how much you care, you generate good karma for yourself and the universe.
- Freud would say your strongest unconscious conflict stems from events that happened when you were a Toddler.
He would also conclude that relative to others, your personality today is moderately affected by the events of your childhood. It appears that your biggest unconscious conflict that still afflicts you stems from what Freud defined as the anal stage of development that occurred when you were between a year and a half and three years old. Freud would say that this conflict can manifest in your personality by giving you a tendency to be especially orderly or clean, or "retentive." You may also harbor a strong rebellious streak. This normally happens when parents toilet-train a child on some kind of schedule, rather than at the child's natural pace and the child naturally reacts by struggling for their autonomy and the legitimacy of their needs.
Freud defined five psychosexual developmental stages that everyone goes through on their way from infancy to adolescence. And each of those stages is associated with adult personality traits. At each stage, we all had to overcome certain "conflicts" or hurdles as we learned new skills and developed relationships with others. No one gets through all five stages without having trouble with at least one of them. And it's this unresolved "trouble" that Freud encouraged people to travel back to, recognize, and overcome.
- Your most positive energy is flowing from your Fifth Chakra
This is the chakra located at the top of your throat. The fifth chakra represents honesty and truth. In your case, this chakra appears to be clear and unblocked so that positive energy can flow from it freely. Radiating positive energy from your fifth chakra indicates that you've cultivated higher wisdom concerning the important life lessons associated with this energy center. You're apt to feel a more burning need than others do to speak the truth, treat people with respect, and act with integrity. Possessing strong fifth chakra energy also suggests that you're not one to fight your life's natural path. Instead, you seem to align your will with divine will.
As you can see, I went nuts with Emode. I shall never do this again.
- Your belief system is best suited to religions that value salvation from sin
Your score shows that you share core beliefs with religions that offer to deliver you from sin or save you from evil.
Some religions assert that all people are born with original sin and must seek salvation. They also maintain that a savior has come to save humankind and that you can find salvation by accepting this as the truth. You are attracted to spiritual groups that believe salvation is possible and encourage you along that path.
- Your IQ score is 129
During the test, you answered four different types of questions — mathematical, visual-spatial, linguistic and logical. We also compared your answers with others who have taken the test, and according to the sorts of questions you got correct, we can tell your Intellectual Type is a Facts Curator.
This means you are highly intelligent and have picked up an impressive and unique collection of facts and figures over the years. You've got a remarkable vocabulary and exceptional math skills — which puts you in the same class as brainiacs like Bill Gates. And that's just some of what we know about you from your test results.
- Your subconscious mind is driven most by Peace
You have a deeply-rooted desire to make peace in the world. Whether through subtle interactions with loved ones, or through getting involved in social causes, it is important to you to be able to influence the world in a positive way.
You have a deep respect for humankind. You care about the future of the world, even beyond your own involvement in it, and you inspire others to feel the same way. Your innate drive toward peace guides you in daily life towards decisions that are respectful toward yourself and others.
- Your true talent is verbal ability
You seem to know how to pick the right words for almost every occasion. Beyond your ability to interpret information and articulate your points, you appear to understand the power and aesthetic appeal behind language. Your verbal knowledge can make you versatile in expressing yourself. And your skills in this arena also allow you to pick up subtle meanings behind what people say.
- Your Emotional IQ is 112.
So, where are you most emotionally smart? Your test results show that your strongest suit is perception — your ability to pick up on what others are feeling.
Because of this, you are unusually good at reading people's verbal and non-verbal cues. You're especially aware of the subtleties of people's actions, and can feel out the vibe of a situation better than many. That gives you and edge many wish they had. People with high perception skills like yours, however, tend to rely on them to the exclusion of others. As a result, they sometimes have underdeveloped abilities in other realms of critical emotional intelligence like managing emotions, empathy, and being expressive.
- You're a Rock Star!
Your personality is actually determined by two personality sub-types - your primary, or dominant sub-type, and your secondary sub-type. You are a Rock Star which means you are a Success / Seeker. Your primary sub-type is defined by "Success" characteristics and your secondary sub-type is defined by "Seeker" characteristics.
That means you crave attention, the limelight, and the fawning admiration of millions. Chances are you have a bevy of fans and friends, and you like knowing how much others appreciate you. On top of this, you're a go-getter and you really shine under pressure.
- When it comes to psychic abilities, you have an unusually strong talent in the area of Retrocognition
This means you have an uncanny ability to look into the past at events that perhaps you had no part in and actually see what happened. This may happen with someone you are close to where you just know that for example, their father was too strict or that they were picked on in school. Perhaps you can even imagine the actual setting in which it happened. Oftentimes these imaginings are more than something your mind "made-up." What you are witnessing is actually true.
This is a highly valuable skill that can be used in any social setting to help to understand the people you are dealing with or aspects of the actual physical setting you happen to find yourself in. For instance, say you are in-between buying one of two houses and you apply your gift to learn that one property has a history of positive experiences and the other was a former battleground. For the sake of wanting to live on a property with more positive energy, you may then choose to buy the house with the more positive psychic history.
- You're a Type 2 - The Humanitarian
Friends, family, and colleagues probably appreciate your caring and generous nature. They're also apt to know that when they come to you with a problem, you'll usually offer a shoulder to cry on and unparalleled compassion. As a Humanitarian, you're likely to be seen as a loving and helpful person with a kind heart.
Being a member of this type puts you in good company. Mother Teresa, with her tireless devotion to aid the sick and destitute members of society, and Bishop Desmond Tutu, with his emphasis on nonviolent protest against racial injustices, are also Type 2s
This means that compared to the eight other Enneagram types, you have a strong sense of empathy for other people. In fact, you're the kind of warm, sincere person who can be uniquely capable of seeing the good in others.
- You're happier than 48 percent of the other people who took Emode's Happiness Test.
Your test results show that your relationships help you feel happier overall. This means that you often find joy in the people who make up your support network. You may also tend to gravitate toward communities that mirror your values. Because you ordinarily feel comfortable relating to other people, you can gain a real sense of belonging and connection.
- You are Balanced-brained
That means you are able to draw on the strengths of both the right and left hemispheres of your brain, depending upon a given situation.
When you need to explain a complicated process to someone, or plan a detailed vacation, the left hemisphere of your brain, which is responsible for your ability to solve problems logically, might kick in. But if you were critiquing an art opening or coming up with an original way to file papers, the right side of your brain, which is responsible for noticing subtle details in things, might take over.
While many people have clearly dominant left- or right-brained tendencies, you are able to draw on skills from both hemispheres of your brain. This rare combination makes you a very creative and flexible thinker.
The down side to being balanced-brained is that you may sometimes feel paralyzed by indecision when the two hemispheres of your brain are competing to solve a problem in their own unique ways.
- Your destiny is to be a Provider
Whether you know it or not, this is the role that is most in tune with who you are at your core. As a Provider, you have a genuine nurturing concern for the welfare of others and you're eager to serve them. You can recognize exactly what people need and your friendly, helpful, social nature makes them feel comforted. With your kind and generous heart, you are personable, talkative, and outward with your emotions, and your openness and sensitivity makes you concerned about the way others view you. Along these lines, be careful not to blame yourself when things go wrong. You cannot prevent bad things from happening, even though your tendency to be orderly with a strong sense of right and wrong may lead you to believe you can. Accept that you do what you can to take care of things and that this will get you far in the world. Bill Clinton, Mary Tyler Moore, and Sally Field are also Providers.
- Your career personality type is ESFP
That means that based on the standard measure of personality traits, you are well-balanced and place equal importance on work as on your personal life. You are dedicated to maintaining a level of culture in your life and therefore won't sacrifice interesting work for high pay.
With your high energy and chameleon-like adaptabilities, you seek work that is fast-paced and ever-changing. Working directly with people provides you with that outlet. On top of it, you have an uncanny ability to keep peace and maintain a level of serenity and happiness in your environment. If emotions flare up in the room, people look to you to pull out a story or joke that deflates the tension.
You prefer to live in the moment and appreciate what life and work offer now. The future is unknowable and does not draw you in like the present. Part of your easy-going outlook toward the future has to do with knowing that you can adapt to whatever comes your way.
The reason employers and recruiters might be on the lookout for you is that only about 8% of the U.S. population shares the unique characteristics of your personality type. Research shows that businesses succeed when employers create a good balance of personality types in the office. And since only 8% of the U.S. population shares your type, that means employers are looking for you.
- Your values help make you a Privacy Guardian
Even when left alone with someone's most valuable secrets, you appear to be one of those rare people who could forego the opportunity to snoop. Because you're one who usually places a high value on privacy — yours as well as other people's — you're someone who can ordinarily be trusted not to let the skeletons out of other people's closets. Because you like to keep your business to yourself and prefer that others do the same, you're not likely to become embroiled in others' battles or concerns. You're more apt to feel that it's better to focus on your own actions and welfare, rather than face the potential consequences of meddling.
The values types you're most likely to click with — whether in business relationships or in love — are those types that most closely resemble your own set of values. As a result, people with the same type are usually the most compatible. But besides being with another Privacy Guardian, the two types that you most closely match with are Loyal Rebel and Resourceful Independent.
- In the last year you've earned 716 karma points
You've earned these points by doing good things, therefore allowing good things to circle back to you. There are 6 different ways people earn karma, and by looking at your responses to this test, we can tell that your caring nature is earning you the most karma.
You seem to be one of those people who has an uncanny ability to anticipate and meet the needs of others around you. This nurturing quality has helped you earn your karma up to this point. Your thoughtfulness strengthens your current relationships, and suggests that such kindnesses will be repaid to you some time in the future. Through your concerted efforts to express how much you care, you generate good karma for yourself and the universe.
- Freud would say your strongest unconscious conflict stems from events that happened when you were a Toddler.
He would also conclude that relative to others, your personality today is moderately affected by the events of your childhood. It appears that your biggest unconscious conflict that still afflicts you stems from what Freud defined as the anal stage of development that occurred when you were between a year and a half and three years old. Freud would say that this conflict can manifest in your personality by giving you a tendency to be especially orderly or clean, or "retentive." You may also harbor a strong rebellious streak. This normally happens when parents toilet-train a child on some kind of schedule, rather than at the child's natural pace and the child naturally reacts by struggling for their autonomy and the legitimacy of their needs.
Freud defined five psychosexual developmental stages that everyone goes through on their way from infancy to adolescence. And each of those stages is associated with adult personality traits. At each stage, we all had to overcome certain "conflicts" or hurdles as we learned new skills and developed relationships with others. No one gets through all five stages without having trouble with at least one of them. And it's this unresolved "trouble" that Freud encouraged people to travel back to, recognize, and overcome.
- Your most positive energy is flowing from your Fifth Chakra
This is the chakra located at the top of your throat. The fifth chakra represents honesty and truth. In your case, this chakra appears to be clear and unblocked so that positive energy can flow from it freely. Radiating positive energy from your fifth chakra indicates that you've cultivated higher wisdom concerning the important life lessons associated with this energy center. You're apt to feel a more burning need than others do to speak the truth, treat people with respect, and act with integrity. Possessing strong fifth chakra energy also suggests that you're not one to fight your life's natural path. Instead, you seem to align your will with divine will.
Wednesday, October 08, 2003
I went to KFC the other day for lunch and just before I left, the girl at the counter says ‘Eat in or take away?’ so I considered this question like I would any other.
Yes, I do want to eat here, but I also prefer the box that you get when you ask for take away and I wanted the plastic bag so that I can have somewhere discreet to chuck all the bones away.
So I said ‘Take away’, which is basically a lie, really, but was necessary in order for me to get what I want. If she really didn’t want me to lie, she should’ve just asked ‘Would you like a plastic bag with that?’ or simply ‘Would you like that bagged?’ because that is, after all, what she’s essentially asking anyway. It’s more convenient to be straight with people.
For example, if you had a feral greenie type eat at KFC, he might want to take the food away but he probably wouldn’t want the plastic bag since plastic bags destroys the Earth or the Universe or something. So then he’d either have to lie like I did or explain why he just wants to carry the chicken in only the cardboard box, which takes a lot less time to biodegrade than plastic would.
Of course, this feral greenie type probably wouldn’t be eating at KFC in the first place since KFC is a big capitalistic corporation entity thing that uses under-aged slave labour to cook the chicken and is probably associated to or with some other corporation entity thing that knows someone that’s also destroying the Earth or the Universe or something. They just wouldn’t go there.
Which is precisely my point.
Yes, I do want to eat here, but I also prefer the box that you get when you ask for take away and I wanted the plastic bag so that I can have somewhere discreet to chuck all the bones away.
So I said ‘Take away’, which is basically a lie, really, but was necessary in order for me to get what I want. If she really didn’t want me to lie, she should’ve just asked ‘Would you like a plastic bag with that?’ or simply ‘Would you like that bagged?’ because that is, after all, what she’s essentially asking anyway. It’s more convenient to be straight with people.
For example, if you had a feral greenie type eat at KFC, he might want to take the food away but he probably wouldn’t want the plastic bag since plastic bags destroys the Earth or the Universe or something. So then he’d either have to lie like I did or explain why he just wants to carry the chicken in only the cardboard box, which takes a lot less time to biodegrade than plastic would.
Of course, this feral greenie type probably wouldn’t be eating at KFC in the first place since KFC is a big capitalistic corporation entity thing that uses under-aged slave labour to cook the chicken and is probably associated to or with some other corporation entity thing that knows someone that’s also destroying the Earth or the Universe or something. They just wouldn’t go there.
Which is precisely my point.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
I've been added to Ricebowl Journals!
Dunno why I have to have that big Indonesian flag on my Ricebowl page though. I've migrated! Oh yeah, forgot. I guess it's some Asian pride thing... right.
Dunno why I have to have that big Indonesian flag on my Ricebowl page though. I've migrated! Oh yeah, forgot. I guess it's some Asian pride thing... right.
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
UPDATED
Dear Mr Mayer,
‘Well, that was pleasant.’
That’s what I thought.
Pleasant.
Maybe even good.
But never spectacular.
And certainly not $75 worth.
This was my John Mayer experience. I like your music. I really do. Room for Squares is a good album. A fantastic album. And Your body is a wonderland is one of my favourite songs. Ever. Really.
Maybe it’s because the Hordern is too big a venue or maybe you just aren’t that good a performer at the moment. But it was kinda bland. Kinda blah. You didn’t start with a bang, never really built it up and didn’t really climax anywhere. It was just… well… pleasant.
It reaffirmed my belief that you will one day be remembered as this generation’s Bryan Adams. Especially since you seem to be singing more ballads these days. It’s not a bad comparison. Bryan Adams sold a whole heap of records in his time. It’s just that one day, you and your music will be considered daggy. Not just daggy, really. But people will actually deny ever thinking you were cool.
Please don’t get angry. I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just telling you how it’s gonna be. And look on the bright side. At least you’re not this generation’s Michael Bolton.
But see, I reckon you can be better than that anyway. I wanna see you rock. I wanna see you, and your band (have they all been glued to the ground?) let loose! Why can’t you do that? Most good guitar-based acts know to really rock on stage. You’ve toured with Counting Crows. You should know. When they perform Mr Jones, they bring the house down! They go nuts! Adam’s pineapple haircut is flying everywhere and he’s jumping and his sweat’s splashing everywhere and the whole band’s moving around and jumping around and playing with and to each other. That’s how you rock.
OK, sure your fans were cheering too. But they’re teenaged girls. That’s just too easy. They’d cheer even if you just stood there.
Alright, so had your one moment. Come back to bed was very well done. But that was it. And that isn’t even one of your big songs. And while it was a great display of your guitar skills, it didn’t rock! And you never looked like you were particularly having fun out there. What about your big songs? You sleepwalked right through No such thing. Bryan Adams would never perform Summer of 69 with such indifference.
I remember Tegan and Sara playing Living room and I hear noises — their signature songs. And the Bens playing Khe Sanh with Jimmy Barnes. And Jason Mraz playing Curbside prophet. They all rocked! They all went nuts! They were performances that I'll never forget. That sends shivers up my spine just reminiscing about them! Michelle Branch rocks more than you! Hell, even Lo-Tel, your backup act, rocked more than you! They built up momentum very well. By the end of it, they really let loose! You’re too controlled. Too blah. Your face goes nuts but you don’t.
Forget about the fact that you’re all bigger than your body now and you have all these teenaged girls who want to sleep with you. Just loosen up and have some fun out there!
I do like your music. Really, I do. And I’ll continue to listen to Room for squares. But unless I hear that you’ve really beefed up your performances, if you come around to Sydney again for another $75 yawn-a-thon, I think I’ll pass. I’ll wait outside and listen to your CD in the car. One of my speakers is busted. But I’m sure it’ll be OK.
Your fan
xtn
__________
Concert grades 2003 Update
HD
The Bens (Enmore Theatre)
D
Jason Mraz (Metro)
Counting Crows (Enmore Theatre)
CR
The Whitlams (Metro)
Norah Jones (Opera House)
Michelle Branch (Metro)
Tegan and Sara (Annandale Hotel)*
Butterfly 9 (Basement)
P
The Superjesus (Metro)
John Mayer (Hordern)*
Charlton Hill (Basement)
*Tegan and Sara and John Mayer may have gotten extra marks if it weren't for their respective venues.
Dear Mr Mayer,
‘Well, that was pleasant.’
That’s what I thought.
Pleasant.
Maybe even good.
But never spectacular.
And certainly not $75 worth.
This was my John Mayer experience. I like your music. I really do. Room for Squares is a good album. A fantastic album. And Your body is a wonderland is one of my favourite songs. Ever. Really.
Maybe it’s because the Hordern is too big a venue or maybe you just aren’t that good a performer at the moment. But it was kinda bland. Kinda blah. You didn’t start with a bang, never really built it up and didn’t really climax anywhere. It was just… well… pleasant.
It reaffirmed my belief that you will one day be remembered as this generation’s Bryan Adams. Especially since you seem to be singing more ballads these days. It’s not a bad comparison. Bryan Adams sold a whole heap of records in his time. It’s just that one day, you and your music will be considered daggy. Not just daggy, really. But people will actually deny ever thinking you were cool.
Please don’t get angry. I’m not trying to insult you. I’m just telling you how it’s gonna be. And look on the bright side. At least you’re not this generation’s Michael Bolton.
But see, I reckon you can be better than that anyway. I wanna see you rock. I wanna see you, and your band (have they all been glued to the ground?) let loose! Why can’t you do that? Most good guitar-based acts know to really rock on stage. You’ve toured with Counting Crows. You should know. When they perform Mr Jones, they bring the house down! They go nuts! Adam’s pineapple haircut is flying everywhere and he’s jumping and his sweat’s splashing everywhere and the whole band’s moving around and jumping around and playing with and to each other. That’s how you rock.
OK, sure your fans were cheering too. But they’re teenaged girls. That’s just too easy. They’d cheer even if you just stood there.
Alright, so had your one moment. Come back to bed was very well done. But that was it. And that isn’t even one of your big songs. And while it was a great display of your guitar skills, it didn’t rock! And you never looked like you were particularly having fun out there. What about your big songs? You sleepwalked right through No such thing. Bryan Adams would never perform Summer of 69 with such indifference.
I remember Tegan and Sara playing Living room and I hear noises — their signature songs. And the Bens playing Khe Sanh with Jimmy Barnes. And Jason Mraz playing Curbside prophet. They all rocked! They all went nuts! They were performances that I'll never forget. That sends shivers up my spine just reminiscing about them! Michelle Branch rocks more than you! Hell, even Lo-Tel, your backup act, rocked more than you! They built up momentum very well. By the end of it, they really let loose! You’re too controlled. Too blah. Your face goes nuts but you don’t.
Forget about the fact that you’re all bigger than your body now and you have all these teenaged girls who want to sleep with you. Just loosen up and have some fun out there!
I do like your music. Really, I do. And I’ll continue to listen to Room for squares. But unless I hear that you’ve really beefed up your performances, if you come around to Sydney again for another $75 yawn-a-thon, I think I’ll pass. I’ll wait outside and listen to your CD in the car. One of my speakers is busted. But I’m sure it’ll be OK.
Your fan
xtn
__________
Concert grades 2003 Update
HD
The Bens (Enmore Theatre)
D
Jason Mraz (Metro)
Counting Crows (Enmore Theatre)
CR
The Whitlams (Metro)
Norah Jones (Opera House)
Michelle Branch (Metro)
Tegan and Sara (Annandale Hotel)*
Butterfly 9 (Basement)
P
The Superjesus (Metro)
John Mayer (Hordern)*
Charlton Hill (Basement)
*Tegan and Sara and John Mayer may have gotten extra marks if it weren't for their respective venues.
Friday, September 26, 2003
It’s Captain Jack Sparrow! ...or Where has my money gone?
The last three movies I’ve seen have all had something to do with the undead. One of them was even called Undead. All three are vastly different and they all succeed to varying degrees. Here’s what I thought.
28 days later
I really liked this. I liked the way that the zombies were fast and foaming at the mouth, rather than how they’re usually portrayed as lumbering, moaning things. What makes a horror movie work for me is the supernatural placed side-by-side with realism. This film had a very gritty feel to it (looks like it was shot with a handycam) and so when the zombies attack, it’s almost believable. The scene where they go shopping in an empty supermarket was especially good. As was the church scene with the zombie priest in the beginning of the film. The main problem, I thought, came in the second half. I don’t want to say what happened but it felt like watching The Beach a second time. Another big problem was the sense that these survivors had been living in this apocalypse for a very long time when it’s only really been 28 days. That’s a very short time. All in all, it’s worth watching. It’s an original take on the zombie genre.
***1/2
Undead
A more traditional zombie movie. Undead lies somewhere between Night of the living dead and Dark city. The result is only so so. The acting is hammy and there was no sense of realism whatsoever. OK, so maybe that’s not the point. But here’s where I get confused. What’s it meant to be? If it’s a spoof, then there’s too many serious bits. If it’s a horror, well there wasn’t a single moment where I felt the least bit scared. To me, the second half was quite good (but I can’t say anything without giving spoilers) while the first half was pretty much shite. I know there’s a lot of people who love this sort of thing. Maybe I’m just not one of them.
**
Pirates of the Caribbean
Ahh, here we go. This movie is wonderful! I’ve heard people say things like ‘It’s OK’ or ‘It’s pretty good’. What’s wrong with you people?! It’s probably the most fun film of the year! Yes, it was a little long, perhaps. But what was there was fantastic! Visually, it was stunning. But what made this work for me were Johnny Depp and Geoffrey Rush’s over-the-top performances. They shone in every scene they were in. They were perfectly cast. Even the usually scene-stealing Orlando Bloom took a backseat to these two. It’s rare that a film is genuinely fun. This film succeeds. Much like the Disneyland ride it was based on, I never wanted this to finish.
****1/2
__________
I’ve been buying a lot of CDs lately. Too many. But they’ve all been pretty good. Here’s a rundown of what I have bought in the last two weeks.
Rachael Kane – Appetite
Good but unspectacular. Girl with a guitar singing rock-tinged pop songs.
***
Elan – Street Child
Sounds frighteningly like Hanson before their voices broke. Soulful, but only a few songs stand out. The rest kinda blends together.
***
White stripes – Elephant
Hey, they are as good as their hype. It’s stripped-down back-to-basics bluesy rock. There’s just the two of them, no bass player, and they don’t swear or sing about drugs. It’s everything I didn’t expect from a rock band but the result is fantastic.
****1/2
Bob Evans – Suburban kid
Bob Evans is the alter ego of Kevin Mitchell from Jebediah singing mainly acoustic folksy music. I love it.
****
Rumanastone – By design
I have no idea why this Sydney band isn’t more well-known. They sound something like a rockier Gin Blossoms. They’re good!
****
The last three movies I’ve seen have all had something to do with the undead. One of them was even called Undead. All three are vastly different and they all succeed to varying degrees. Here’s what I thought.
28 days later
I really liked this. I liked the way that the zombies were fast and foaming at the mouth, rather than how they’re usually portrayed as lumbering, moaning things. What makes a horror movie work for me is the supernatural placed side-by-side with realism. This film had a very gritty feel to it (looks like it was shot with a handycam) and so when the zombies attack, it’s almost believable. The scene where they go shopping in an empty supermarket was especially good. As was the church scene with the zombie priest in the beginning of the film. The main problem, I thought, came in the second half. I don’t want to say what happened but it felt like watching The Beach a second time. Another big problem was the sense that these survivors had been living in this apocalypse for a very long time when it’s only really been 28 days. That’s a very short time. All in all, it’s worth watching. It’s an original take on the zombie genre.
***1/2
Undead
A more traditional zombie movie. Undead lies somewhere between Night of the living dead and Dark city. The result is only so so. The acting is hammy and there was no sense of realism whatsoever. OK, so maybe that’s not the point. But here’s where I get confused. What’s it meant to be? If it’s a spoof, then there’s too many serious bits. If it’s a horror, well there wasn’t a single moment where I felt the least bit scared. To me, the second half was quite good (but I can’t say anything without giving spoilers) while the first half was pretty much shite. I know there’s a lot of people who love this sort of thing. Maybe I’m just not one of them.
**
Pirates of the Caribbean
Ahh, here we go. This movie is wonderful! I’ve heard people say things like ‘It’s OK’ or ‘It’s pretty good’. What’s wrong with you people?! It’s probably the most fun film of the year! Yes, it was a little long, perhaps. But what was there was fantastic! Visually, it was stunning. But what made this work for me were Johnny Depp and Geoffrey Rush’s over-the-top performances. They shone in every scene they were in. They were perfectly cast. Even the usually scene-stealing Orlando Bloom took a backseat to these two. It’s rare that a film is genuinely fun. This film succeeds. Much like the Disneyland ride it was based on, I never wanted this to finish.
****1/2
__________
I’ve been buying a lot of CDs lately. Too many. But they’ve all been pretty good. Here’s a rundown of what I have bought in the last two weeks.
Rachael Kane – Appetite
Good but unspectacular. Girl with a guitar singing rock-tinged pop songs.
***
Elan – Street Child
Sounds frighteningly like Hanson before their voices broke. Soulful, but only a few songs stand out. The rest kinda blends together.
***
White stripes – Elephant
Hey, they are as good as their hype. It’s stripped-down back-to-basics bluesy rock. There’s just the two of them, no bass player, and they don’t swear or sing about drugs. It’s everything I didn’t expect from a rock band but the result is fantastic.
****1/2
Bob Evans – Suburban kid
Bob Evans is the alter ego of Kevin Mitchell from Jebediah singing mainly acoustic folksy music. I love it.
****
Rumanastone – By design
I have no idea why this Sydney band isn’t more well-known. They sound something like a rockier Gin Blossoms. They’re good!
****
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
One foot on fresh air
Every day when I wake up I assume that I am the same person that I was yesterday.
And I suppose I am. But then obviously bits and pieces of me change with every second of every day. That’s how I grow. That’s how I get older. I think I understand that.
But even if I can account for each link of the chain, from the first link to the last, it is no longer the same chain. Or if I focus on the chain as a whole, then the individual links cease to be discernable. It’s just how things are, I suppose.
How old do I have to be to start feeling old? Where is the point where plans have to be carried through? Potentials be turned into results? When do I arrive and where? When do some dreams have to be let go? When do I say goodbye to old friends?
The longer I let a chain grow, the further I am from where I started and eventually I realise that the chain will be bigger and longer and heavier that anything I can control. I may remember where I started. But I’ve forgotten how I got to where I am now.
You see, I’ve lost so many old friends. And the more new friends I make, the more I will lose in the future. Surely I used to have more friends. Oh yes, I did! Lots! But where are they? What am I doing about it? I don’t have time. But I must. Everyone has time. But I don’t have the energy.
I don’t have the energy to write emails to tell them all how I am and ask them how they are. Do I care about them? Sure I do. Do I care about them enough? Well…um… sure I do. At least some. Sometimes I miss them. Really miss them. It’s just hard. And it will just get harder. It used to be easier. It was much easier. I want to hold a party now but I don’t even know if people will come anymore. How much strain can these chains withstand? Over what distance? What can I do?
I think I understand how all this works. I take a little. I give a little. I gain a little. I lose a little. I learn so much. I forget so much.
I never become better or worse. I just become someone else.
I think I do understand. I just don’t like it.
Every day when I wake up I assume that I am the same person that I was yesterday.
And I suppose I am. But then obviously bits and pieces of me change with every second of every day. That’s how I grow. That’s how I get older. I think I understand that.
But even if I can account for each link of the chain, from the first link to the last, it is no longer the same chain. Or if I focus on the chain as a whole, then the individual links cease to be discernable. It’s just how things are, I suppose.
How old do I have to be to start feeling old? Where is the point where plans have to be carried through? Potentials be turned into results? When do I arrive and where? When do some dreams have to be let go? When do I say goodbye to old friends?
The longer I let a chain grow, the further I am from where I started and eventually I realise that the chain will be bigger and longer and heavier that anything I can control. I may remember where I started. But I’ve forgotten how I got to where I am now.
You see, I’ve lost so many old friends. And the more new friends I make, the more I will lose in the future. Surely I used to have more friends. Oh yes, I did! Lots! But where are they? What am I doing about it? I don’t have time. But I must. Everyone has time. But I don’t have the energy.
I don’t have the energy to write emails to tell them all how I am and ask them how they are. Do I care about them? Sure I do. Do I care about them enough? Well…um… sure I do. At least some. Sometimes I miss them. Really miss them. It’s just hard. And it will just get harder. It used to be easier. It was much easier. I want to hold a party now but I don’t even know if people will come anymore. How much strain can these chains withstand? Over what distance? What can I do?
I think I understand how all this works. I take a little. I give a little. I gain a little. I lose a little. I learn so much. I forget so much.
I never become better or worse. I just become someone else.
I think I do understand. I just don’t like it.
Friday, September 12, 2003
Ding dong the witch is…um…
It was only a few weeks ago that she made a big speech about how important ‘open and honest communication’ is in the workplace. This was just after she chucked a spack at how we (mostly I) didn’t respect her authority and so forth. I then made a short counter-argument which to her ears probably sounded like ‘well you started it!’ and then she said some stuff about starting over on a brand new slate or something and then I nodded. Then back to work.
And now she’s gone.
She left yesterday. No prior notice. Nothing. Just came in earlier than anyone else, grabbed all her stuff from her desk and then left one note to our manager and one email. She said something like ‘Sorry it didn’t work out.’ No prior notice and the company can’t be bothered suing her. She couldn’t even tell us face to face that she’s leaving. So much for open and honest communication.
She was a manager too. Just one level below our other manager and two levels below the company owner, Bill. In McDonald’s terms, she would be a store manager. One level below the regional managers and two levels below Ronald. Either way, I am the drone. Or the ‘crew’. Perhaps elevated to the lofty heights of ‘customer care’ or ‘crew trainer’.
But she was right.
I didn’t respect her. She was a lot older than me (A LOT!) and all but I had no respect for her. I think respect is something you earn. And I felt that she was incompetent while at the same time she was trying to boss me around. She rubbed everyone (except one guy) the wrong way from day one and now we’re glad she’s gone. How she even got the job is beyond me. How she’s survived the last hundred years in the publishing industry is even further beyond me!
Hope we get it right next time. Or I pray that Ronald accepts me back into his ranks.
It was only a few weeks ago that she made a big speech about how important ‘open and honest communication’ is in the workplace. This was just after she chucked a spack at how we (mostly I) didn’t respect her authority and so forth. I then made a short counter-argument which to her ears probably sounded like ‘well you started it!’ and then she said some stuff about starting over on a brand new slate or something and then I nodded. Then back to work.
And now she’s gone.
She left yesterday. No prior notice. Nothing. Just came in earlier than anyone else, grabbed all her stuff from her desk and then left one note to our manager and one email. She said something like ‘Sorry it didn’t work out.’ No prior notice and the company can’t be bothered suing her. She couldn’t even tell us face to face that she’s leaving. So much for open and honest communication.
She was a manager too. Just one level below our other manager and two levels below the company owner, Bill. In McDonald’s terms, she would be a store manager. One level below the regional managers and two levels below Ronald. Either way, I am the drone. Or the ‘crew’. Perhaps elevated to the lofty heights of ‘customer care’ or ‘crew trainer’.
But she was right.
I didn’t respect her. She was a lot older than me (A LOT!) and all but I had no respect for her. I think respect is something you earn. And I felt that she was incompetent while at the same time she was trying to boss me around. She rubbed everyone (except one guy) the wrong way from day one and now we’re glad she’s gone. How she even got the job is beyond me. How she’s survived the last hundred years in the publishing industry is even further beyond me!
Hope we get it right next time. Or I pray that Ronald accepts me back into his ranks.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Don’t trust a fat bastard who wants to become an Australian Idol:
The story of Anthony Sumbati
For a while, I actually felt sorry for the guy. His teary-eyed ‘Just tell me you’re proud of me, Dad’ phone call, made in front of national television, I think fooled a lot of people. Sure we all knew he had no chance in hell of ever winning Australian Idol, but we cheered for the poor well-intentioned, but misguided, fool nonetheless.
And then he did it again. Being disqualified, he made an ‘I’m just trying to be myself’ speech on TV and apparently almost had a mental breakdown at home, and we thought… poor guy.
But after seeing his interview on Rove (his first since he’s ‘calmed’ himself down after the disappointment), no more tears, he just comes across as a devious calculating bastard. From ‘fool’ to ‘tool’.
His catch phrase for the night was ‘It just happened’. What, so interviews with radio stations on the morning of the voting ‘just happens’? And when Rove asks him whether he or the radio station arranged for the interview, our man Anthony glosses over the question twice and when pressed the third time, answers ‘Honestly, I can’t remember.’
What the?! He can’t remember?! Dodgy bastard! He planned this all along. He knew he had no chance of passing to the next round so he tanked it in, drew the media attention, and now he’s already reaped the benefits by landing a job at 2WS.
Rove could’ve torn him apart on TV but he’s too nice to. He could’ve even made him cry again. Anthony was just so transparent. Probably because now that he has his radio job, he has no reason to put up the charade any longer.
And according to Mix FM (who conducted the interview), it wasn’t even Anthony who arranged the interview. It was his manager. Yes. The big man has a manager! Isn’t he supposed to be homeless (his dad kicked him out of home for entering the contest) and jobless (he quit his job to enter Idol)? Since when do popstar wannabes have managers? Why should we feel sorry for the guy if he can afford a manager?!
Well, that’s all the energy I’m gonna spend writing about you, Anthony. And relish that new job of yours. Because it’s not gonna last. Once this Idol gimmick wears off, people will realise that you’re nothing more than a useless fat bastard that used a nation’s pity to get him a job.
The only thing I’d like to see you do is wear a kilt and say:
GET IN MY BELLY!
I might actually pay to see that.
The story of Anthony Sumbati
For a while, I actually felt sorry for the guy. His teary-eyed ‘Just tell me you’re proud of me, Dad’ phone call, made in front of national television, I think fooled a lot of people. Sure we all knew he had no chance in hell of ever winning Australian Idol, but we cheered for the poor well-intentioned, but misguided, fool nonetheless.
And then he did it again. Being disqualified, he made an ‘I’m just trying to be myself’ speech on TV and apparently almost had a mental breakdown at home, and we thought… poor guy.
But after seeing his interview on Rove (his first since he’s ‘calmed’ himself down after the disappointment), no more tears, he just comes across as a devious calculating bastard. From ‘fool’ to ‘tool’.
His catch phrase for the night was ‘It just happened’. What, so interviews with radio stations on the morning of the voting ‘just happens’? And when Rove asks him whether he or the radio station arranged for the interview, our man Anthony glosses over the question twice and when pressed the third time, answers ‘Honestly, I can’t remember.’
What the?! He can’t remember?! Dodgy bastard! He planned this all along. He knew he had no chance of passing to the next round so he tanked it in, drew the media attention, and now he’s already reaped the benefits by landing a job at 2WS.
Rove could’ve torn him apart on TV but he’s too nice to. He could’ve even made him cry again. Anthony was just so transparent. Probably because now that he has his radio job, he has no reason to put up the charade any longer.
And according to Mix FM (who conducted the interview), it wasn’t even Anthony who arranged the interview. It was his manager. Yes. The big man has a manager! Isn’t he supposed to be homeless (his dad kicked him out of home for entering the contest) and jobless (he quit his job to enter Idol)? Since when do popstar wannabes have managers? Why should we feel sorry for the guy if he can afford a manager?!
Well, that’s all the energy I’m gonna spend writing about you, Anthony. And relish that new job of yours. Because it’s not gonna last. Once this Idol gimmick wears off, people will realise that you’re nothing more than a useless fat bastard that used a nation’s pity to get him a job.
The only thing I’d like to see you do is wear a kilt and say:
GET IN MY BELLY!
I might actually pay to see that.
Monday, August 25, 2003
Things I spent non-Monopoly money on over this past weekend
I think I remember most of the details of my purchases over the weekend, except those that I have forgotten.
My weekend began on Thursday for no other reason than the fact that I bought some stuff on that day.
- Medium-sized pasta (half fettuccini bosciola (?)/ half spaghetti bolognaise), which also includes a free slice of garlic pizza
- A bottle of Mt Franklin water
- ‘RY’ side table at Ikea, which I will be using as a telephone stand (Only $19!)
- Metal spatula
- Metal ladle
- Metal serving spoon
- Plastic tongs
- 2 plastic funnels
- Floor lamp/ reading lamp (Only $29!)
- Married with Children 2-disc DVD set (Over 3 hours of Bundy fun! Yes, Minh, you can borrow it when I’m done)
- It’s a wonderful life DVD (On sale at only $7.47 AND I saved a further 2c when it got rounded down to $7.45. I suspect that I won’t be flooded with requests to borrow this DVD)
- Rice and three dishes at Ria Sari (The Chilli chicken was so hot I was crying AND had to give my tongue a break for half an hour)
- $20 worth of somewhat-overpriced petrol at BP in Kensington
Friday, I went to K-mart and bought the following:
- 1.15 m Ironing board with iron stand
- ‘Willow’ 25 ltr bin with swinging door (white with blue trim)
- Wooden spoon and that plastic thing you use to make a cake
- Plastic spatula
- Strainer
- 4 microwave-safe containers made of recycled plastic ($1.50 for the set!)
For lunch, I can’t remember what I got. At night…
- 1 ltr Mango beer at Lowenbrau
- A plate of the Rotisserie lamb with cornbread and sides of pumpkin mash and creamed spinach
- A cup of post-mix Coke
- One packet of Allens Anticol (to help me fight this mysterious throat condition I seem to be suffering from)
- 2 hours worth of karaoke time (experience enhanced somewhat by the Allens Anticols)
- Bowl of fries with sweet chilli sauce (but no sour cream)
- China gunpowder tea (one pot, no sugar, no milk)
Saturday, I went to Coles:
- 6 white noodle bowls
- 10 kg bag of premium long grain rice (which I lugged around in the boot of my car all day and night)
- Small tub of ‘Savings’ brand peanut butter
- Table salt
- Ground black pepper
- Oregano
- Garlic steak seasoning
- Lemon juice
- 750 ml bottle of sweet chilli sauce
- Small bottle of ‘Fountain’ tomato sauce
- Reach toothbrush with rubber bristles (brilliant!)
- 2 toilet freshners
- Glade ‘Plug-in’ (Lasts up to 75 days!)
- Microwave-safe container
- 1 ltr milk (full-cream)
- 10 packets of instand noodles (including 4 packets of mie goreng)
Later that day…
- A bottle of Vanilla Coke (because I was hot and needed to cool down)
Then at night,
- 675 ml of Belgian cherry beer (not as good as German mango beer and more expensive but worth it for the novelty factor)
- A pot of mussels cooked in white wine and vegetables (‘vegetables’ being a loose term that, in this case, means celery – I don’t like celery)
- A plate of veal and garlic sausages served with mash, peas and gravy
- A pint of Heineken
- A bowl of wedges with sweet chilli sauce AND sour cream
- Earl grey tea (a pot, taken with milk and 6 sugars)
Sunday was a pretty good day.
- 750 ml bottle of fish sauce
- ABC soy sauce (manis sedang [medium sweet])
- ABC soy sauce (asin [salty])
- Small bottle of sesame oil
- 4 small microwave-safe plastic containers ($2 for the set)
- A 12-litre plastic container (to store my 10 kg bag of premium long grain rice)
- A pork roll
- Grosse Point Blank DVD (ex-rental, $12.95 – one of my favourite movies)
- Full Monty DVD (brand new, 10.95 [!] – also one of my favourite movies)
I also got this.
- Possibly the second-worse haircut I have ever had (and it was $2 more than my usual haircut too!)
Also, while carrying a 12 ltr plastic container and sporting the aforementioned second-worse haircut ever, I walked past this girl who I met a few months ago and found rather attractive. She didn’t seem to see me and upon second thoughts might not actually have been her at all, which is probably a good things since I was carrying a 12 ltr plastic container and sporting the (now twice) aforementioned second-worse haircut ever.
This was basically my weekend.
Also also, you may have noticed some recurring themes in the above items, like beer, DVDs, kitchen utensils, Asian food products and so on. The occurrence of these themes is hardly coincidental. I like themes.
I think I remember most of the details of my purchases over the weekend, except those that I have forgotten.
My weekend began on Thursday for no other reason than the fact that I bought some stuff on that day.
- Medium-sized pasta (half fettuccini bosciola (?)/ half spaghetti bolognaise), which also includes a free slice of garlic pizza
- A bottle of Mt Franklin water
- ‘RY’ side table at Ikea, which I will be using as a telephone stand (Only $19!)
- Metal spatula
- Metal ladle
- Metal serving spoon
- Plastic tongs
- 2 plastic funnels
- Floor lamp/ reading lamp (Only $29!)
- Married with Children 2-disc DVD set (Over 3 hours of Bundy fun! Yes, Minh, you can borrow it when I’m done)
- It’s a wonderful life DVD (On sale at only $7.47 AND I saved a further 2c when it got rounded down to $7.45. I suspect that I won’t be flooded with requests to borrow this DVD)
- Rice and three dishes at Ria Sari (The Chilli chicken was so hot I was crying AND had to give my tongue a break for half an hour)
- $20 worth of somewhat-overpriced petrol at BP in Kensington
Friday, I went to K-mart and bought the following:
- 1.15 m Ironing board with iron stand
- ‘Willow’ 25 ltr bin with swinging door (white with blue trim)
- Wooden spoon and that plastic thing you use to make a cake
- Plastic spatula
- Strainer
- 4 microwave-safe containers made of recycled plastic ($1.50 for the set!)
For lunch, I can’t remember what I got. At night…
- 1 ltr Mango beer at Lowenbrau
- A plate of the Rotisserie lamb with cornbread and sides of pumpkin mash and creamed spinach
- A cup of post-mix Coke
- One packet of Allens Anticol (to help me fight this mysterious throat condition I seem to be suffering from)
- 2 hours worth of karaoke time (experience enhanced somewhat by the Allens Anticols)
- Bowl of fries with sweet chilli sauce (but no sour cream)
- China gunpowder tea (one pot, no sugar, no milk)
Saturday, I went to Coles:
- 6 white noodle bowls
- 10 kg bag of premium long grain rice (which I lugged around in the boot of my car all day and night)
- Small tub of ‘Savings’ brand peanut butter
- Table salt
- Ground black pepper
- Oregano
- Garlic steak seasoning
- Lemon juice
- 750 ml bottle of sweet chilli sauce
- Small bottle of ‘Fountain’ tomato sauce
- Reach toothbrush with rubber bristles (brilliant!)
- 2 toilet freshners
- Glade ‘Plug-in’ (Lasts up to 75 days!)
- Microwave-safe container
- 1 ltr milk (full-cream)
- 10 packets of instand noodles (including 4 packets of mie goreng)
Later that day…
- A bottle of Vanilla Coke (because I was hot and needed to cool down)
Then at night,
- 675 ml of Belgian cherry beer (not as good as German mango beer and more expensive but worth it for the novelty factor)
- A pot of mussels cooked in white wine and vegetables (‘vegetables’ being a loose term that, in this case, means celery – I don’t like celery)
- A plate of veal and garlic sausages served with mash, peas and gravy
- A pint of Heineken
- A bowl of wedges with sweet chilli sauce AND sour cream
- Earl grey tea (a pot, taken with milk and 6 sugars)
Sunday was a pretty good day.
- 750 ml bottle of fish sauce
- ABC soy sauce (manis sedang [medium sweet])
- ABC soy sauce (asin [salty])
- Small bottle of sesame oil
- 4 small microwave-safe plastic containers ($2 for the set)
- A 12-litre plastic container (to store my 10 kg bag of premium long grain rice)
- A pork roll
- Grosse Point Blank DVD (ex-rental, $12.95 – one of my favourite movies)
- Full Monty DVD (brand new, 10.95 [!] – also one of my favourite movies)
I also got this.
- Possibly the second-worse haircut I have ever had (and it was $2 more than my usual haircut too!)
Also, while carrying a 12 ltr plastic container and sporting the aforementioned second-worse haircut ever, I walked past this girl who I met a few months ago and found rather attractive. She didn’t seem to see me and upon second thoughts might not actually have been her at all, which is probably a good things since I was carrying a 12 ltr plastic container and sporting the (now twice) aforementioned second-worse haircut ever.
This was basically my weekend.
Also also, you may have noticed some recurring themes in the above items, like beer, DVDs, kitchen utensils, Asian food products and so on. The occurrence of these themes is hardly coincidental. I like themes.
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
Waves and radiation
A couple of nights ago I saw a delightful little Indonesian film on SBS called Ada apa dengan Cinta? Or What’s up with Love? in English. I already have it on VCD but it has no subtitles, so while I can understand the story, I miss out on the subtleties.
Watching it on SBS allowed me to play two games:
1. Let’s test my Indonesian
2. Let’s test how good the translation is
The first problem comes with the title. ‘Cinta’ means ‘love’ and also happens to be the name of the girl in it. The pun gets lost in the translation. Secondly, I only now find out the Indonesian word for ‘poetry’ sounds like the word for ‘police’ except you say it with a slight speech impediment.
At the end of the day, my Indonesian isn’t so bad, although I think I’d sound rather weird to the locals. I’ve been told my accent is fine. Just that I have the vocab of a 6-year-old.
Anyway, the movie is really cute. It’s a simple teen romance placed somewhere between A walk to remember and Dawson’s Creek, but not as syrupy as either and more fun. It’s non-pretentious, tightly scripted and has an attractive cast. Dian Sastrowardoyo (yes, a ridiculous-sounding name to any foreigners, but she’s cute as hell!) plays a spoilt and popular schoolgirl who loses a poetry competition to a mysterious boy (Nicholas Saputra) with no friends etc. And first they hate each other but then hate turns to love etc. Yeah I know it’s corny but it works well and it’s cute.
One thing though, some of the characters wear jackets in the film. It’s Jakarta! With 40 degree weather all year round! Who the hell wears jackets?! Why?!
I know it’s useless that I’m telling about this since the chances that any of you will get a chance to see this is next to nothing. But I thought I’d talk about it anyway since I enjoyed watching. A lot of Indonesian films are plain crap and/or are thinly disguised political propaganda (a broad and probably somewhat inaccurate generalisation). This film was just nice. Oh, and there’s this guy with the biggest afro I’ve ever seen! That alone is worth seeing.
__________
Last Friday I saw Michelle Branch in concert. I like her. Because she’s just this girl with a guitar singing catchy guitar-driven pop tunes. She doesn’t pretend to be some hard rocker like Avril, and she’s not boring like Delta Goodrem. But this concert disappointed me. Not that it was bad. But it was just too short and didn’t offer much more than just listening to her CD would provide. I actually enjoyed more watching her last year at Roselands shopping centre’s ‘Raindrop’ food court. There, she was just this one girl on a stool playing a guitar and singing. There was something magic there. This time around, she just becomes another stage performer. Although I gotta admit, she looks sexier than I expected.
To give some perspective of what I thought of the concert, I’d now like to grade all the concerts I’ve seen this year. I think this is more accurate than listing them in order of preference. Because I haven’t seen a real bad one, really. So they all range from Pass to High Distinction. There’s a couple more I’m gonna see soon. I’ll grade them when I see them. Oh and yes, I admit, this listing thing is just piggybacking Riss’ last post.
HD
The Bens (Enmore Theatre)
D
Jason Mraz (Metro)
Counting Crows (Enmore Theatre)
CR
The Whitlams (Metro)
Norah Jones (Opera House)
Michelle Branch (Metro)
P
The Superjesus (Metro)
I think that’s all I’ve seen this year.
A couple of nights ago I saw a delightful little Indonesian film on SBS called Ada apa dengan Cinta? Or What’s up with Love? in English. I already have it on VCD but it has no subtitles, so while I can understand the story, I miss out on the subtleties.
Watching it on SBS allowed me to play two games:
1. Let’s test my Indonesian
2. Let’s test how good the translation is
The first problem comes with the title. ‘Cinta’ means ‘love’ and also happens to be the name of the girl in it. The pun gets lost in the translation. Secondly, I only now find out the Indonesian word for ‘poetry’ sounds like the word for ‘police’ except you say it with a slight speech impediment.
At the end of the day, my Indonesian isn’t so bad, although I think I’d sound rather weird to the locals. I’ve been told my accent is fine. Just that I have the vocab of a 6-year-old.
Anyway, the movie is really cute. It’s a simple teen romance placed somewhere between A walk to remember and Dawson’s Creek, but not as syrupy as either and more fun. It’s non-pretentious, tightly scripted and has an attractive cast. Dian Sastrowardoyo (yes, a ridiculous-sounding name to any foreigners, but she’s cute as hell!) plays a spoilt and popular schoolgirl who loses a poetry competition to a mysterious boy (Nicholas Saputra) with no friends etc. And first they hate each other but then hate turns to love etc. Yeah I know it’s corny but it works well and it’s cute.
One thing though, some of the characters wear jackets in the film. It’s Jakarta! With 40 degree weather all year round! Who the hell wears jackets?! Why?!
I know it’s useless that I’m telling about this since the chances that any of you will get a chance to see this is next to nothing. But I thought I’d talk about it anyway since I enjoyed watching. A lot of Indonesian films are plain crap and/or are thinly disguised political propaganda (a broad and probably somewhat inaccurate generalisation). This film was just nice. Oh, and there’s this guy with the biggest afro I’ve ever seen! That alone is worth seeing.
__________
Last Friday I saw Michelle Branch in concert. I like her. Because she’s just this girl with a guitar singing catchy guitar-driven pop tunes. She doesn’t pretend to be some hard rocker like Avril, and she’s not boring like Delta Goodrem. But this concert disappointed me. Not that it was bad. But it was just too short and didn’t offer much more than just listening to her CD would provide. I actually enjoyed more watching her last year at Roselands shopping centre’s ‘Raindrop’ food court. There, she was just this one girl on a stool playing a guitar and singing. There was something magic there. This time around, she just becomes another stage performer. Although I gotta admit, she looks sexier than I expected.
To give some perspective of what I thought of the concert, I’d now like to grade all the concerts I’ve seen this year. I think this is more accurate than listing them in order of preference. Because I haven’t seen a real bad one, really. So they all range from Pass to High Distinction. There’s a couple more I’m gonna see soon. I’ll grade them when I see them. Oh and yes, I admit, this listing thing is just piggybacking Riss’ last post.
HD
The Bens (Enmore Theatre)
D
Jason Mraz (Metro)
Counting Crows (Enmore Theatre)
CR
The Whitlams (Metro)
Norah Jones (Opera House)
Michelle Branch (Metro)
P
The Superjesus (Metro)
I think that’s all I’ve seen this year.
Thursday, August 14, 2003
To my dearest Dora
It has been many months now since you left me that comment, urging me to write more. You told me that I entertained you while you were at work. You told me how much you enjoyed reading my words.
Well that comment shot like an arrow through my chest and seeded itself in my heart. At first, it was a smile. Then the seed grew into affection and finally blossomed into love. Yes, my dear Dora, I love you. Sure you know that in your heart! You are the sails to my ship, the jangly bits to my tambourine, the garlic sauce to my chicken!
You had told me to write more. And I did. Not for myself. Not for the other people who read it. But for you, my love.
And as time passed, my love for you had seeped from my heart and into my head, dizzying me with the intoxication that is the singular focused thought of you. And from there it flowed through the neck and shoulders and down my arms, my fingers and onto my keyboard. All my thoughts and all my energy transpired onto the screen as words that are meant only for you. And you alone.
And yet you have left me. You have not returned. Why Dora? Why? And now I am all alone while my love for you still festers in every cell of my body. It’s eating me up from the inside out! Sometimes I just think of you and I cannot breathe! I’m dying! Withering like a dried up worm stuck to a picket fence. I walk the streets at night now, calling out your name in case you happen to be somewhere in my immediate vicinity. One time, someone did reply. But alas, it was not you. It was just some woman who’s name was ‘Laura’ and simply heard wrong. She was ugly. She had a horrible croaky voice. And I still suspect that she might have actually been a man.
Why couldn’t it have been you, Dora? Why won’t you come back and ease my pain? There are embers in my soul and the winds are dying. Won’t you come back to breathe it new life? Give me a renewed glow? A new life? Please?
Eternally yours,
Christian…
It has been many months now since you left me that comment, urging me to write more. You told me that I entertained you while you were at work. You told me how much you enjoyed reading my words.
Well that comment shot like an arrow through my chest and seeded itself in my heart. At first, it was a smile. Then the seed grew into affection and finally blossomed into love. Yes, my dear Dora, I love you. Sure you know that in your heart! You are the sails to my ship, the jangly bits to my tambourine, the garlic sauce to my chicken!
You had told me to write more. And I did. Not for myself. Not for the other people who read it. But for you, my love.
And as time passed, my love for you had seeped from my heart and into my head, dizzying me with the intoxication that is the singular focused thought of you. And from there it flowed through the neck and shoulders and down my arms, my fingers and onto my keyboard. All my thoughts and all my energy transpired onto the screen as words that are meant only for you. And you alone.
And yet you have left me. You have not returned. Why Dora? Why? And now I am all alone while my love for you still festers in every cell of my body. It’s eating me up from the inside out! Sometimes I just think of you and I cannot breathe! I’m dying! Withering like a dried up worm stuck to a picket fence. I walk the streets at night now, calling out your name in case you happen to be somewhere in my immediate vicinity. One time, someone did reply. But alas, it was not you. It was just some woman who’s name was ‘Laura’ and simply heard wrong. She was ugly. She had a horrible croaky voice. And I still suspect that she might have actually been a man.
Why couldn’t it have been you, Dora? Why won’t you come back and ease my pain? There are embers in my soul and the winds are dying. Won’t you come back to breathe it new life? Give me a renewed glow? A new life? Please?
Eternally yours,
Christian…
Monday, August 11, 2003
All under heaven
Zhang Yimou’s Hero was meant to be the Crouching Tiger beater. A bigger and bolder film, truer to the spirit of the Chinese martial arts drama.
Having defeated the three assassins on top of the emperor’s wanted list, the warrior, Nameless (Jet Li), has been granted an audience with the emperor to tell of how he achieved such a feat. The movie then unfolds as the tale is given three different treatments – Nameless’ claim, the emperor’s amended version and then Nameless’ amendments of the emperor’s amended version. Right. It’s better than it sounds but isn’t as good as I expected.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was groundbreaking in that it was the first true martial arts drama to break into mainstream Western cinemas. And though a lot of cynical Asian audiences complained of it being too Westernised and/or compromised, you have to realise (and accept) that it was Ang Lee’s vision, and not just another rehash of decades of Chinese martial arts film history.
Hero, to me, is just another of Zhang Yimou’s films, which are, more often than not, slow and sparse in dialogue and movement. This may or may not be your cup of tea. But while this approach works well with a lot of his dramas (my personal favourite is Ju Dou), in a film with so much fighting, it just comes across as pretentious and even try-hardish. CTHD at least shows an awareness for its own ridiculousness and offsets this with occasional humour. Hero takes itself way too seriously (the way I felt Ang Lee did with Hulk – we’re talking about a big green guy here! Come on!).
I liked CTHD because it had a fantasy-like quality to it. It’s graceful, almost whimsical. China ends up being something like Middle Earth than any place on this Earth. No doubt the film’s Western infusion had a lot to do with this, but in my mind, it works. Hero is more artistic and stylistic, with a different colour scheme for each version of the tale. But it’s also stiffer, devoid of emotion or humanity. Bottom line, while beautiful, it’s actually not that fun to watch.
Character-wise, both films are very well acted (besides Chang Chen’s atrocious performance in CTHD) but while I could feel the unspoken tensions between the characters in CTHD, I felt that there was a lack of chemistry with the characters in Hero.
When Hero first came out, the criticism was that the film had thinly veiled pro-China propaganda as the backbone to the story, supporting a tyrant ruling with an iron fist for the greater good of ‘all under heaven’. I don’t know whether this was intentional but it sure comes across that way. The ending is overly preachy and, to me, rather cringe worthy. To be fair, CTHD’s ending was rather lame too.
On the plus side, Hero is a much more consistent film than CTHD. The film didn’t take an inexplicable (if beautifully shot) walkabout into the desert for half an hour. Also, Maggie Cheung (Flying Snow) had such a strong screen presence, despite playing a cardboard cut out character. The special effects, as well, are much more elaborate, although ultimately unnecessary because none of the action sequences in Hero comes close to having the same breathtaking effect as some CTHD scenes, such as the rooftop chase.
Overall, the two films are quite different. Hero has more of an epic scale. CTHD is more a personal story. But I did like them both although I’m sure it’s obvious which one I preferred. Watch them both though. You might disagree with me. Some people already do.
Scorecard
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: 4.5/5
Hero: 3/5
Zhang Yimou’s Hero was meant to be the Crouching Tiger beater. A bigger and bolder film, truer to the spirit of the Chinese martial arts drama.
Having defeated the three assassins on top of the emperor’s wanted list, the warrior, Nameless (Jet Li), has been granted an audience with the emperor to tell of how he achieved such a feat. The movie then unfolds as the tale is given three different treatments – Nameless’ claim, the emperor’s amended version and then Nameless’ amendments of the emperor’s amended version. Right. It’s better than it sounds but isn’t as good as I expected.
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was groundbreaking in that it was the first true martial arts drama to break into mainstream Western cinemas. And though a lot of cynical Asian audiences complained of it being too Westernised and/or compromised, you have to realise (and accept) that it was Ang Lee’s vision, and not just another rehash of decades of Chinese martial arts film history.
Hero, to me, is just another of Zhang Yimou’s films, which are, more often than not, slow and sparse in dialogue and movement. This may or may not be your cup of tea. But while this approach works well with a lot of his dramas (my personal favourite is Ju Dou), in a film with so much fighting, it just comes across as pretentious and even try-hardish. CTHD at least shows an awareness for its own ridiculousness and offsets this with occasional humour. Hero takes itself way too seriously (the way I felt Ang Lee did with Hulk – we’re talking about a big green guy here! Come on!).
I liked CTHD because it had a fantasy-like quality to it. It’s graceful, almost whimsical. China ends up being something like Middle Earth than any place on this Earth. No doubt the film’s Western infusion had a lot to do with this, but in my mind, it works. Hero is more artistic and stylistic, with a different colour scheme for each version of the tale. But it’s also stiffer, devoid of emotion or humanity. Bottom line, while beautiful, it’s actually not that fun to watch.
Character-wise, both films are very well acted (besides Chang Chen’s atrocious performance in CTHD) but while I could feel the unspoken tensions between the characters in CTHD, I felt that there was a lack of chemistry with the characters in Hero.
When Hero first came out, the criticism was that the film had thinly veiled pro-China propaganda as the backbone to the story, supporting a tyrant ruling with an iron fist for the greater good of ‘all under heaven’. I don’t know whether this was intentional but it sure comes across that way. The ending is overly preachy and, to me, rather cringe worthy. To be fair, CTHD’s ending was rather lame too.
On the plus side, Hero is a much more consistent film than CTHD. The film didn’t take an inexplicable (if beautifully shot) walkabout into the desert for half an hour. Also, Maggie Cheung (Flying Snow) had such a strong screen presence, despite playing a cardboard cut out character. The special effects, as well, are much more elaborate, although ultimately unnecessary because none of the action sequences in Hero comes close to having the same breathtaking effect as some CTHD scenes, such as the rooftop chase.
Overall, the two films are quite different. Hero has more of an epic scale. CTHD is more a personal story. But I did like them both although I’m sure it’s obvious which one I preferred. Watch them both though. You might disagree with me. Some people already do.
Scorecard
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: 4.5/5
Hero: 3/5
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
I wrote this great big blog entry yesterday and I was gonna post it up but then ooee asked me to wait a day so I did. But since then I don’t really feel like that anymore. So I may not post that up at all.
Last night I waited for a call for an hour before I left the house.
’I’ll call you back in ten minutes.’ He says.
Whatever. Actually I do really want to listen to what he has to tell me. But I’m not expecting much. I rarely do these days. Seems to work easier like that.
So when I get home later that night, I’m on the phone. But not to him. Someone else. It’s not a particularly pleasant conversation. But what can I do? When I get off the phone, I’m feeling anxious and agitated and so I get on the net for a bit but no one’s really on and I surf the net all day so I can’t do that. I’m in need of someone to talk to. Not about anything. Just stuff. Just a person to interact with. But instead I go to my TV and watch Star Trek. It’s an OK episode but I come in late so it finishes. Then it’s Letterman and he’s saying to Kate Hudson that she’s even more glowing and radiant than she usually is. And she says:
‘Maybe it’s my new breasts’
So after that, I’m in the bathroom, on the toilet and I’m taking a dump. And it’s a good one. It all comes up. Not runny or slurry or whatever. Just a release. Bombs away. A dumping of colossal proportions. It was a good one. I’m feeling crap. So I release that crap. Now I could sleep relaxed. Relieved. Content. I mean, why pour your heart out when you can just blow it all out of your arse?
This is a dumping to go down in the anals of history.
Now… um… what the hell, I’ll post up the other entry too.
Let’s blog!
It’s time for me to talk about stuff. So… um… yeah.
Australian Idol is craptacular
It’s one of those crappy shows that once I start watching, I can’t drag myself away. Of course, maybe I just think it’s crappy cos I didn’t try out for it this year. So here’s a call to you out there. If there’s anyone who’s interested in auditioning when next season comes around, I’ll come too!!! Serious! Anyway, back to the show. Here are a few reasons why I think it’s crap.
- The editing: they keep re-showing the same stuff over and over again. Are they trying to save on film or something?!
- The crying: Why is there so much crying on this show?! The contestants cry when they don’t make it. They cry when they do. Hell, even the judges cry! What’s with that?! Craig David Wannabe sings in Somali. The judges cry. Then they kick him out in the next couple of rounds.
- Craig David Wannabe: Yeah I know he’s got a real sad story and he’s had a hard life and all. But that doesn’t excuse him from totally letting go of his sense of an authentic original personality! He has the Craig David beanie, the Craig David beard. He sings Craig David songs. He must’ve gotten all his stuff from the Craig David showbag at the Easter Show this year!
- ‘You’re the real deal’- my arse! That’s what the judges keep telling them contestants – that they’re the ‘real deal’. Here’s the thing: Big fat guy and Meatloaf get into the second round. Come on, let’s be honest here. Who actually believes these guys have a chance in hell of winning it all? Well maybe if everybody else dies! But then they’d probably just axe the show midway in that case. Big fat guy comes in, sings, then Judge Dicko tells him he’s got sex appeal. What the hell?! Sure the guy has a nice voice but come on! He’ll never make it as a pop star on this planet! They just have to pick these guys to make the TV show interesting. Just look at them!!
- Where are the pretty boys and pretty girls? Seriously, unless the winner looks like Sophie Monk, don’t even bother planning further than the first single. Yes the first single ALWAYS sells. But then after that, let’s face it…. You don’t see record companies chasing after members of Scandal’us these days.
- Dirty old men: It’s just not good watching two middle-aged men drooling over a 16-year-old girl in a bra and fishnets. OK, you can say a 16-year-old girl is ‘pretty’ or ‘attractive’ but please leave the sex object comments until they’re at least allowed to drink.
I think I’d rather be watching Jamie’s Kitchen. Not that I’ll stop watching this, of course.
Mandy Moore is boring
I was so pleased that Mandy Moore was going to avoid going the same direction as Britney and Christina and start skimping on the clothes and pumping on the make-up. But now she looks like she’s going totally the opposite direction. More like Celine Dion kinda way. Why? Why? Why? We already have boring Delta Goodrem. Mandy’s first two albums were good clean fun disposable pop. I liked them. Now, her next album will be ‘Coverage’ - a set of covers of pop songs spanning the last 30 years or so. Well I don’t have a problem, per se, about covering other people’s songs. It’s just that if you’re gonna do it, do it properly. Make it interesting. Or make it your own. Guns and Roses made ‘Knocking on heaven’s door’ their own. Even the over-covered ‘Big yellow taxi’ became a Counting Crows song. Now I’ve only heard samples from ‘Coverage’ but from what I can tell, she just sugarcoats everything. And with a standard musical accompaniment in the background. Sugarcoated Joni Mitchell, Candy-covered Cat Stevens, Frutti Tutti Elton John. It’s like she’s at karaoke and decides to record herself while she’s singing. Sorry Mandy, I refuse to buy this CD when it comes out. Well maybe if I can burn it off someone… Mark?
Authentic what?
It annoys me when people are so hung up about eating ‘authentic food’. I wouldn’t have a clue what authentic north Indian cuisine is like. But if I like the taste, I’ll eat it! Isn’t that what’s important? The reason why I don’t like take-away Chinese food isn’t because it’s not authentic or that it’s mostly white folks that eat it. It’s because it all tastes the same and I feel like sick afterwards. Fair enough? And what does ‘authentic’ really mean anyway? Let’s take Indonesian food (the only cuisine to which I can, to some degree, discuss authenticity). You can go to Indonesian restaurants that taste pretty much like what I eat at home. Do you call that authentic? Personally, there’s no point in me going to those places. Why would I go out to eat something I can get at home? Alternately, if they taste like restaurant food you get in Indonesia, well… which restaurant? Which street peddler? There’s this place called Ria Sari in Kensington which tastes, I suppose, vaguely but yet recognisably Indonesian. But really, it tastes nothing like I’ve ever tasted at all. Some people say it’s not authentic. But it’s fabulous! The food is fantastic! It’s one of two non-franchise food places that I actually get cravings for (the other is Habibs chicken but that’s another story). Do I care if it’s ‘authentic’ or not? Well, not really. I suppose when I order gado gado and I get a plate of lettuce and carrots with peanut butter on top (like I did at an unnamed ‘Indonesian’ restaurant in Marrickville), yes it pisses me off. But as long as it’s not too far off… I’ll take whatever tastes good, thanks.
Last night I waited for a call for an hour before I left the house.
’I’ll call you back in ten minutes.’ He says.
Whatever. Actually I do really want to listen to what he has to tell me. But I’m not expecting much. I rarely do these days. Seems to work easier like that.
So when I get home later that night, I’m on the phone. But not to him. Someone else. It’s not a particularly pleasant conversation. But what can I do? When I get off the phone, I’m feeling anxious and agitated and so I get on the net for a bit but no one’s really on and I surf the net all day so I can’t do that. I’m in need of someone to talk to. Not about anything. Just stuff. Just a person to interact with. But instead I go to my TV and watch Star Trek. It’s an OK episode but I come in late so it finishes. Then it’s Letterman and he’s saying to Kate Hudson that she’s even more glowing and radiant than she usually is. And she says:
‘Maybe it’s my new breasts’
So after that, I’m in the bathroom, on the toilet and I’m taking a dump. And it’s a good one. It all comes up. Not runny or slurry or whatever. Just a release. Bombs away. A dumping of colossal proportions. It was a good one. I’m feeling crap. So I release that crap. Now I could sleep relaxed. Relieved. Content. I mean, why pour your heart out when you can just blow it all out of your arse?
This is a dumping to go down in the anals of history.
Now… um… what the hell, I’ll post up the other entry too.
Let’s blog!
It’s time for me to talk about stuff. So… um… yeah.
Australian Idol is craptacular
It’s one of those crappy shows that once I start watching, I can’t drag myself away. Of course, maybe I just think it’s crappy cos I didn’t try out for it this year. So here’s a call to you out there. If there’s anyone who’s interested in auditioning when next season comes around, I’ll come too!!! Serious! Anyway, back to the show. Here are a few reasons why I think it’s crap.
- The editing: they keep re-showing the same stuff over and over again. Are they trying to save on film or something?!
- The crying: Why is there so much crying on this show?! The contestants cry when they don’t make it. They cry when they do. Hell, even the judges cry! What’s with that?! Craig David Wannabe sings in Somali. The judges cry. Then they kick him out in the next couple of rounds.
- Craig David Wannabe: Yeah I know he’s got a real sad story and he’s had a hard life and all. But that doesn’t excuse him from totally letting go of his sense of an authentic original personality! He has the Craig David beanie, the Craig David beard. He sings Craig David songs. He must’ve gotten all his stuff from the Craig David showbag at the Easter Show this year!
- ‘You’re the real deal’- my arse! That’s what the judges keep telling them contestants – that they’re the ‘real deal’. Here’s the thing: Big fat guy and Meatloaf get into the second round. Come on, let’s be honest here. Who actually believes these guys have a chance in hell of winning it all? Well maybe if everybody else dies! But then they’d probably just axe the show midway in that case. Big fat guy comes in, sings, then Judge Dicko tells him he’s got sex appeal. What the hell?! Sure the guy has a nice voice but come on! He’ll never make it as a pop star on this planet! They just have to pick these guys to make the TV show interesting. Just look at them!!
- Where are the pretty boys and pretty girls? Seriously, unless the winner looks like Sophie Monk, don’t even bother planning further than the first single. Yes the first single ALWAYS sells. But then after that, let’s face it…. You don’t see record companies chasing after members of Scandal’us these days.
- Dirty old men: It’s just not good watching two middle-aged men drooling over a 16-year-old girl in a bra and fishnets. OK, you can say a 16-year-old girl is ‘pretty’ or ‘attractive’ but please leave the sex object comments until they’re at least allowed to drink.
I think I’d rather be watching Jamie’s Kitchen. Not that I’ll stop watching this, of course.
Mandy Moore is boring
I was so pleased that Mandy Moore was going to avoid going the same direction as Britney and Christina and start skimping on the clothes and pumping on the make-up. But now she looks like she’s going totally the opposite direction. More like Celine Dion kinda way. Why? Why? Why? We already have boring Delta Goodrem. Mandy’s first two albums were good clean fun disposable pop. I liked them. Now, her next album will be ‘Coverage’ - a set of covers of pop songs spanning the last 30 years or so. Well I don’t have a problem, per se, about covering other people’s songs. It’s just that if you’re gonna do it, do it properly. Make it interesting. Or make it your own. Guns and Roses made ‘Knocking on heaven’s door’ their own. Even the over-covered ‘Big yellow taxi’ became a Counting Crows song. Now I’ve only heard samples from ‘Coverage’ but from what I can tell, she just sugarcoats everything. And with a standard musical accompaniment in the background. Sugarcoated Joni Mitchell, Candy-covered Cat Stevens, Frutti Tutti Elton John. It’s like she’s at karaoke and decides to record herself while she’s singing. Sorry Mandy, I refuse to buy this CD when it comes out. Well maybe if I can burn it off someone… Mark?
Authentic what?
It annoys me when people are so hung up about eating ‘authentic food’. I wouldn’t have a clue what authentic north Indian cuisine is like. But if I like the taste, I’ll eat it! Isn’t that what’s important? The reason why I don’t like take-away Chinese food isn’t because it’s not authentic or that it’s mostly white folks that eat it. It’s because it all tastes the same and I feel like sick afterwards. Fair enough? And what does ‘authentic’ really mean anyway? Let’s take Indonesian food (the only cuisine to which I can, to some degree, discuss authenticity). You can go to Indonesian restaurants that taste pretty much like what I eat at home. Do you call that authentic? Personally, there’s no point in me going to those places. Why would I go out to eat something I can get at home? Alternately, if they taste like restaurant food you get in Indonesia, well… which restaurant? Which street peddler? There’s this place called Ria Sari in Kensington which tastes, I suppose, vaguely but yet recognisably Indonesian. But really, it tastes nothing like I’ve ever tasted at all. Some people say it’s not authentic. But it’s fabulous! The food is fantastic! It’s one of two non-franchise food places that I actually get cravings for (the other is Habibs chicken but that’s another story). Do I care if it’s ‘authentic’ or not? Well, not really. I suppose when I order gado gado and I get a plate of lettuce and carrots with peanut butter on top (like I did at an unnamed ‘Indonesian’ restaurant in Marrickville), yes it pisses me off. But as long as it’s not too far off… I’ll take whatever tastes good, thanks.
Thursday, July 24, 2003
What I really wanted to write…
was something about my philosophy in life. About my world view.
One of my friends once told me that if she viewed the world the way I do, then she would probably want to commit suicide. I told her that the fact that she would say something like that means that she doesn’t view the world the way I do.
But it’s difficult writing about a philosophy. Most philosophical texts are dense and cumbersome. I don’t want that. And what are the chances that I could be understandable, consistent and convincing, all in the space of a blog entry? And to be honest, I'm not even sure that I can be bothered.
So I thought about another approach. By using some sort of analogy. A story to illustrate what’s going through my head. But here, there’s a problem of either (a) being too preachy, or the flipside (b) being too vague. And neither one is something I’d really want.
So instead I just watched some late night TV and I thought about this during the commercials when they were bad or when it was that beer one where the guy’s tongue goes off looking for a beer. And then I snacked on Twisties and drank some water and thought about the night before when I was talking to my mum and sister about religion. And then after that I went to bed. There was some new show on Channel 9 about justices and the supreme court and so forth but I didn’t wanna watch that.
So now I’m writing this while I’m at work. During my lunch break. And I realise that what I really wanted was to write about my philosophy in life. And instead I wrote about writing about (or not writing about) my philosophy in life. But I suppose that’s OK too.
was something about my philosophy in life. About my world view.
One of my friends once told me that if she viewed the world the way I do, then she would probably want to commit suicide. I told her that the fact that she would say something like that means that she doesn’t view the world the way I do.
But it’s difficult writing about a philosophy. Most philosophical texts are dense and cumbersome. I don’t want that. And what are the chances that I could be understandable, consistent and convincing, all in the space of a blog entry? And to be honest, I'm not even sure that I can be bothered.
So I thought about another approach. By using some sort of analogy. A story to illustrate what’s going through my head. But here, there’s a problem of either (a) being too preachy, or the flipside (b) being too vague. And neither one is something I’d really want.
So instead I just watched some late night TV and I thought about this during the commercials when they were bad or when it was that beer one where the guy’s tongue goes off looking for a beer. And then I snacked on Twisties and drank some water and thought about the night before when I was talking to my mum and sister about religion. And then after that I went to bed. There was some new show on Channel 9 about justices and the supreme court and so forth but I didn’t wanna watch that.
So now I’m writing this while I’m at work. During my lunch break. And I realise that what I really wanted was to write about my philosophy in life. And instead I wrote about writing about (or not writing about) my philosophy in life. But I suppose that’s OK too.
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Thursday, July 10, 2003
xtn, etc. the soundtrack
UPDATED
It seems I gots blogging fever again. I actually feel like posting all sorts of crap now. Yay for me!
xtn, etc. now has an official soundtrack to accompany this blog. It’s basically a collection of all my favourite downloads from this year that may or may not have had something to do with inspiring me to write the stuff I've been writing about. Listen to it while you read this blog. Or other people’s blogs. Or your own blog. Or just while you work. I know I do!
So order your copy now and you too can have the complete xtn, etc. experience!
Or conversely, you can just look up each individual song on the net yourself. They’re all there. After all, where do you think I pilfered (they were all legal actually!) them from?!
Here’s the songlist.
Abra Moore – Someone else’s mess
Jack Johnson – Posters (live)
Tegan and Sara – Come on kids
Jason Mraz – Curbside prophet (live)
Ben Kweller – I don’t why
Maroon 5 – Harder to breathe
Remy Zero – Out/in
Norah Jones – Bessie Smith (live)
Stephen Speaks – Out of my league
Josh Joplin Group – Camera one (acoustic)
Oskar Saville – Don't cry for me
Abra Moore – Trip on love
Badloves – Caroline (live)
Pete Murray – Bail me out
Jason Mraz – On love in sadness (live)
Rilo Kiley – Paint’s peeling
Norah Jones – Feeling the same way (live)
Jack Johnson – Inaudible melodies (live)
Stephen Speaks – Passenger seat
Vienna Teng – Lullabye for a stormy night
Tegan and Sara – Your love (live)
Now I'm off to design a cover!
UPDATED
It seems I gots blogging fever again. I actually feel like posting all sorts of crap now. Yay for me!
xtn, etc. now has an official soundtrack to accompany this blog. It’s basically a collection of all my favourite downloads from this year that may or may not have had something to do with inspiring me to write the stuff I've been writing about. Listen to it while you read this blog. Or other people’s blogs. Or your own blog. Or just while you work. I know I do!
So order your copy now and you too can have the complete xtn, etc. experience!
Or conversely, you can just look up each individual song on the net yourself. They’re all there. After all, where do you think I pilfered (they were all legal actually!) them from?!
Here’s the songlist.
Abra Moore – Someone else’s mess
Jack Johnson – Posters (live)
Tegan and Sara – Come on kids
Jason Mraz – Curbside prophet (live)
Ben Kweller – I don’t why
Maroon 5 – Harder to breathe
Remy Zero – Out/in
Norah Jones – Bessie Smith (live)
Stephen Speaks – Out of my league
Josh Joplin Group – Camera one (acoustic)
Oskar Saville – Don't cry for me
Abra Moore – Trip on love
Badloves – Caroline (live)
Pete Murray – Bail me out
Jason Mraz – On love in sadness (live)
Rilo Kiley – Paint’s peeling
Norah Jones – Feeling the same way (live)
Jack Johnson – Inaudible melodies (live)
Stephen Speaks – Passenger seat
Vienna Teng – Lullabye for a stormy night
Tegan and Sara – Your love (live)
Now I'm off to design a cover!
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
2 minute hate
Even though I mostly live my life through very cynical eyes, there are times when something or someone comes along and I think that this time it’ll be different. Somehow it’ll end up well with this one. That’s what I thought about you but I was wrong. Or maybe it’s just that given enough time, everything converges to a finite point. Certain death if you like. But either way, it’s your fault. And now I’m resentful. Mostly because it’s not like things just fizzled over time with us. You left. I’ve been discarded and I know that somehow you’ll make it like it was just a time thing. That we grew apart. Or worse — that it was my fault. But it’s not. It was all your doing. And I am a resentful, petty little man and so I feel like saying these things.
But yeah. That’s all I have to say.
__________
I saw Jason Mraz on Sunday. Other people have written about the concert so I won’t. He was good. I liked it.
__________
This whole thing about me looking like Chow Yun Fat is kinda getting out of hand. Really. I mean, it’s a flattering comparison and all. And I am quite a fan of his work. But last week, these people just came up and asked to take a picture with me. It used to be mostly Honkies (or I suppose other ethnic Chinese races) who would see a resemblance and yet be too shy to mention anything until a more appropriate time. And then people would have a nice little laugh at it and we’d all move right along. Now it’s strangers. Even non-Asians. I don’t really know that I’m complaining here. But it’s just beginning to feel a little creepy.
Even though I mostly live my life through very cynical eyes, there are times when something or someone comes along and I think that this time it’ll be different. Somehow it’ll end up well with this one. That’s what I thought about you but I was wrong. Or maybe it’s just that given enough time, everything converges to a finite point. Certain death if you like. But either way, it’s your fault. And now I’m resentful. Mostly because it’s not like things just fizzled over time with us. You left. I’ve been discarded and I know that somehow you’ll make it like it was just a time thing. That we grew apart. Or worse — that it was my fault. But it’s not. It was all your doing. And I am a resentful, petty little man and so I feel like saying these things.
But yeah. That’s all I have to say.
__________
I saw Jason Mraz on Sunday. Other people have written about the concert so I won’t. He was good. I liked it.
__________
This whole thing about me looking like Chow Yun Fat is kinda getting out of hand. Really. I mean, it’s a flattering comparison and all. And I am quite a fan of his work. But last week, these people just came up and asked to take a picture with me. It used to be mostly Honkies (or I suppose other ethnic Chinese races) who would see a resemblance and yet be too shy to mention anything until a more appropriate time. And then people would have a nice little laugh at it and we’d all move right along. Now it’s strangers. Even non-Asians. I don’t really know that I’m complaining here. But it’s just beginning to feel a little creepy.
Friday, July 04, 2003
Three posts in under a week. Wow! This one was inspired by my lunch this afternoon. You know the tune. Just sing along.
Killing me slowly (with chicken)
I heard he cooked a good chook, I heard it has a style
And so I came to see him and ate there for a while
And there it was this chicken, 11 herbs and spices
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Feeling all flushed with fever, a Pepsi cooled me down
I had the Hot and Spicy, it tasted good I found
With potatoes drowned in gravy, a Picnic bar as well
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
This chicken made me smile in all my dark despair
But when I ate the last one, there was nothing left there
Except a greasy sore throat, and another year off my life
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Yeah it tasted good
But it was killing my life
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly (with chicken)
I heard he cooked a good chook, I heard it has a style
And so I came to see him and ate there for a while
And there it was this chicken, 11 herbs and spices
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Feeling all flushed with fever, a Pepsi cooled me down
I had the Hot and Spicy, it tasted good I found
With potatoes drowned in gravy, a Picnic bar as well
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
This chicken made me smile in all my dark despair
But when I ate the last one, there was nothing left there
Except a greasy sore throat, and another year off my life
I’m licking my lips and my fingers
Grease dripping down from this bird
He’s killing me slowly with chicken
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Yeah it tasted good
But it was killing my life
Killing me slowly with chicken
Clogging my whole heart with this bird
Killing me slowly with chicken
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Hi. I just wanna quickly recommend some things. And then I’ll go. I’m just afraid they might slip by unnoticed if nobody says anything about them. A film and two CDs.
Secretary
A film, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader. Directed by Steven Shainberg
I guess this isn’t a film for everyone. And I couldn’t imagine how anyone could make a film about S&M be both ‘nice’ and even ‘cute’. But this movie, in my mind, achieved that. It’s about a lawyer and his secretary and the interesting relationship that develops between the two of them. There’s nothing hardcore about this. There aren’t even any whips and chains. Just good old-fashioned spanking and crawling around on all fours. It’s essentially a romantic comedy. Just with a bit of kink to it. It doesn’t try to preach, promote or educate. It’s not serious enough to be pretentious, yet it never lowers itself to the level of parody. It strikes a nice balance. Probably my favourite movie of the year so far. Go see it if you feel like something off-beat.
__________
Songs about Jane
Album by Maroon 5
I discovered this band on Amazon.com. It was one of their recommendations based on other CDs that I enquired about. They’re a pop band that might appeal to the same kind of fanbase as John Mayer and Jason Mraz, although they sound more like Jamiroquai or The Brand New Heavies — just with a harder rock edge to them. I know the CD’s available in Australia somewhere. I just haven’t been able to locate a copy as yet.
Favourite tracks: Harder to breathe, This love, Sunday morning.
If it was you
Album by Tegan and Sara
This is actually the second album by these two Canadian sisters although I’d never heard of them until now. And they’ve come at the right time with the current explosion of the whole ‘chicks with guitars’ thing. They’re a little hard to explain. Kinda somewhere between punk, folk rock, and Josie and the Pussycats. Make no mistake. They’re a pop outfit. But they’re raw and energetic and actually sound like they’re having fun. I imagine this is how Avril Lavigne wishes she could sound like.
Favourite tracks: Time running, City girl, I hear noises.
Secretary
A film, starring Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader. Directed by Steven Shainberg
I guess this isn’t a film for everyone. And I couldn’t imagine how anyone could make a film about S&M be both ‘nice’ and even ‘cute’. But this movie, in my mind, achieved that. It’s about a lawyer and his secretary and the interesting relationship that develops between the two of them. There’s nothing hardcore about this. There aren’t even any whips and chains. Just good old-fashioned spanking and crawling around on all fours. It’s essentially a romantic comedy. Just with a bit of kink to it. It doesn’t try to preach, promote or educate. It’s not serious enough to be pretentious, yet it never lowers itself to the level of parody. It strikes a nice balance. Probably my favourite movie of the year so far. Go see it if you feel like something off-beat.
__________
Songs about Jane
Album by Maroon 5
I discovered this band on Amazon.com. It was one of their recommendations based on other CDs that I enquired about. They’re a pop band that might appeal to the same kind of fanbase as John Mayer and Jason Mraz, although they sound more like Jamiroquai or The Brand New Heavies — just with a harder rock edge to them. I know the CD’s available in Australia somewhere. I just haven’t been able to locate a copy as yet.
Favourite tracks: Harder to breathe, This love, Sunday morning.
If it was you
Album by Tegan and Sara
This is actually the second album by these two Canadian sisters although I’d never heard of them until now. And they’ve come at the right time with the current explosion of the whole ‘chicks with guitars’ thing. They’re a little hard to explain. Kinda somewhere between punk, folk rock, and Josie and the Pussycats. Make no mistake. They’re a pop outfit. But they’re raw and energetic and actually sound like they’re having fun. I imagine this is how Avril Lavigne wishes she could sound like.
Favourite tracks: Time running, City girl, I hear noises.
Sunday, June 29, 2003
You and me against the world
Last week I found a little dog and I took him into my care and gave him a home and gave him a name. The geek inside me called him Jean-Luc.
But let me say this:
He’s not a real dog. He’s a soft toy. Small. Not much bigger than my thumb.
I found him under my foot. On the ground. Just as I got out of my car at a Westfield’s carpark. I’ve been having a lot of bad luck at carparks lately. Scratches and stuff. Another story I suppose. And not one particularly worth telling.
But on this day, I found a little dog. And he had a bead for his left eye and a long thread where his right eye must have once been.
And so I picked him up and I took him home. I had saved him from the dirty car-oil-soaked concrete floor that would certainly have been his last stop before the garbage bin.
And at home I cut off the thread in his right eye so that from some distance he would look like he has both eyes intact. And as I was cutting, his mouth got stuck to my scissors.
He’s magnetic, you see. I remember now. I’ve seen him before on TV. Well not him him, but you know what I mean. The ads. I’d seem others like him before. They have a magnet about where their mouths should be. And they come with little metal toys that stick to them and you can pretend like you’re kinda playing tug-o-war with them.
Cute.
But Jean-Luc has no metallic toys. So he just sticks to my scissors. He even sticks to the fridge. It looks pretty ridiculous actually. A little dog holding on with his teeth on a smooth white surface. In this position, Jean-Luc looks every bit the toy that he is.
But I’ve given him a name. And I’ve given him a home.
Literally.
I made him a little dog house out of left-over cardboard. It even comes complete with a corrugated cardboard roof. And now he sits in my car, under which I had found him, in his little doggy house and he looks as happy as an inanimate object can be. And as I look into his cute puppy dog eye, I can’t help but smile a little.
eh… so I’m an idiot.
But I can make the world safe for you, Jean Luc.
Last week I found a little dog and I took him into my care and gave him a home and gave him a name. The geek inside me called him Jean-Luc.
But let me say this:
He’s not a real dog. He’s a soft toy. Small. Not much bigger than my thumb.
I found him under my foot. On the ground. Just as I got out of my car at a Westfield’s carpark. I’ve been having a lot of bad luck at carparks lately. Scratches and stuff. Another story I suppose. And not one particularly worth telling.
But on this day, I found a little dog. And he had a bead for his left eye and a long thread where his right eye must have once been.
And so I picked him up and I took him home. I had saved him from the dirty car-oil-soaked concrete floor that would certainly have been his last stop before the garbage bin.
And at home I cut off the thread in his right eye so that from some distance he would look like he has both eyes intact. And as I was cutting, his mouth got stuck to my scissors.
He’s magnetic, you see. I remember now. I’ve seen him before on TV. Well not him him, but you know what I mean. The ads. I’d seem others like him before. They have a magnet about where their mouths should be. And they come with little metal toys that stick to them and you can pretend like you’re kinda playing tug-o-war with them.
Cute.
But Jean-Luc has no metallic toys. So he just sticks to my scissors. He even sticks to the fridge. It looks pretty ridiculous actually. A little dog holding on with his teeth on a smooth white surface. In this position, Jean-Luc looks every bit the toy that he is.
But I’ve given him a name. And I’ve given him a home.
Literally.
I made him a little dog house out of left-over cardboard. It even comes complete with a corrugated cardboard roof. And now he sits in my car, under which I had found him, in his little doggy house and he looks as happy as an inanimate object can be. And as I look into his cute puppy dog eye, I can’t help but smile a little.
eh… so I’m an idiot.
But I can make the world safe for you, Jean Luc.
Friday, June 13, 2003
A portrait
My friend is down in the basement of his father’s house. It’s cold and damp down there. He sits on a creaky wooden chair, at a creaky wooden desk and writes by the light of a candle. Of course there is also an electric bulb swinging from the ceiling. It is the twentieth century after all.
Actually no, it’s the twenty-first…
…but he still hasn’t gotten used to that.
And indeed when the draft blows out the candle, he can still see. He can still write. In fact, he doesn’t even notice the difference. But he is a romantic after all. And romantics write by candlelight. Romantics wear scarves and stare off blankly into the distance. Romantics write on parchment with feathered quills.
Brain to the hand. Hand to the quill. Quill to the parchment.
He is writing a poem to her. And it’s all bleeding out of his heart.
My friend loves and wants to be loved. He writes and wants to be written about. There are songs that touch his heart that he wishes had been written about him. Or by him. Or something like that. He just wants to be a part of it all.
But he knows it’s just a song. And even mouthing the words won’t make them his.
‘It’s about you’ he whispers.
And he writes.
And he writes.
And then the words become a blur. As the hand begins to ache. As the songs begin to deafen. And the bottle of gin becomes a bottle of air.
But there’s still a long way to go. There’s still a few hours left before daylight. And we haven’t even gotten to the tears yet.
* * *
‘Is this really what I am?’ he might say to me.
‘Probably not’ may be my reply.
But I doubt that his version would be any closer to the truth. He is a romantic after all. And romantics tend to paint when they could have just sketched. Skip when they could have just walked. Romantics sing when they could have just said ‘hello’.
And frankly, I think I just happen to like my version better.
My friend is down in the basement of his father’s house. It’s cold and damp down there. He sits on a creaky wooden chair, at a creaky wooden desk and writes by the light of a candle. Of course there is also an electric bulb swinging from the ceiling. It is the twentieth century after all.
Actually no, it’s the twenty-first…
…but he still hasn’t gotten used to that.
And indeed when the draft blows out the candle, he can still see. He can still write. In fact, he doesn’t even notice the difference. But he is a romantic after all. And romantics write by candlelight. Romantics wear scarves and stare off blankly into the distance. Romantics write on parchment with feathered quills.
Brain to the hand. Hand to the quill. Quill to the parchment.
He is writing a poem to her. And it’s all bleeding out of his heart.
My friend loves and wants to be loved. He writes and wants to be written about. There are songs that touch his heart that he wishes had been written about him. Or by him. Or something like that. He just wants to be a part of it all.
But he knows it’s just a song. And even mouthing the words won’t make them his.
‘It’s about you’ he whispers.
And he writes.
And he writes.
And then the words become a blur. As the hand begins to ache. As the songs begin to deafen. And the bottle of gin becomes a bottle of air.
But there’s still a long way to go. There’s still a few hours left before daylight. And we haven’t even gotten to the tears yet.
* * *
‘Is this really what I am?’ he might say to me.
‘Probably not’ may be my reply.
But I doubt that his version would be any closer to the truth. He is a romantic after all. And romantics tend to paint when they could have just sketched. Skip when they could have just walked. Romantics sing when they could have just said ‘hello’.
And frankly, I think I just happen to like my version better.
Thursday, May 29, 2003
Bloggaversary
I missed my one year anniversary of blogging. It was earlier this month. I can’t believe I missed it. Especially since I never even expected to last longer than a month before becoming bored with the medium.
But here I am. One year older. And one year bloggier.
I suppose I’ll go for a drink with Sleepwalker or something. Or I’ll buy myself a present. Maybe create a new banner for this site. I don’t know. Maybe.
It went quite quickly. The year I mean. Even though I did struggle towards the end there. I hope I get to write more in year two.
All the comments that I have for my old blog entries have disappeared. They said that it’s not gone. It’s just been put in storage. So I go look up what I have in storage and there’s nothing there. Oh well. I guess it’s gone.
On Sunday night, I sat riveted, glued to the TV screen, watching the Eurovision song contest. What makes this worse than it already sounds is that I didn’t even get to see the performances. All I saw was the points tally and the final performance by Turkey. But I saw the T.A.T.U. girls hugging each other everytime someone gave them 12 points so I had to stick around.
They really do live in a different world, those Europeans…
Finally, before I go on to write a useless year-end awards thing, Riss wanted a mention if I was to write about blogging for one year. So here you go. Riss. You got yourself a mention ; )
__________
A useless year-end awards thing (xtn, season one, 2002/03)
All my favourite things from the past year.
Favourite CD - Ben Kweller (Sha Sha). This is an example of when random purchases work. I went to HMV, tried this CD by some geeky-looking guy I’ve never heard of, bought it and now it’s my favourite CD of the year. Trust me. It’s really good.
Favourite song - Curbside prophet (Jason Mraz). This guy is like Eminem with a guitar and without the violence… or the swearing… well maybe he’s not much like Eminem at all. But I’d rate these two as the most clever lyricists I’ve heard in a long time, if not ever. And I’m going to his concert! Yay!
Favourite concert – The Bens. I got Riss to thank for bringing me back to watching concerts (see, you got another mention). Although at the time I thought the Counting Crows concert was better (and in some ways it was), thinking back on it now… Kweller’s drugged out charisma, Lee’s um… well he sang well… and Folds’ sheer brilliance on that piano… not to mention the excellent rapport they had with the audience and each other… the way they were bumbling around the stage… and Jimmy Barnes’ surprise appearance… now I’m thinking, man, I’m never gonna see a concert that good ever again!
Favourite movie – Brotherhood of the wolf. Yeah, it’s a weird-arse French martial arts horror period piece. One of those. And I know it probably isn’t the best movie released in the past year. But it stands out as the most memorable. 8 mile gets an honourable mention. So does LOTR: The two towers. Matrix Reloaded gets a thumbs down from me.
Favourite purchase - My car. My fully-sick-mobile. Yeah I’ve been driving this Lancer MR for the past five years anyway… but it feels different when it becomes my car. Especially with the personalised plates and all.
Favourite piece of politics – The war with Iraq changing from being about weapons of mass destruction to being about freeing the Iraqi people. I don’t care much for politics but I found this… um… entertaining. And if anyone happens to read this and thinks I’ve misunderstood something or whatnot, please don’t bother saying anything. I won’t care enough to listen.
Favourite TV moment – When David Letterman decided to drop all this stuff from on top of his building onto an empty alleyway. What did he drop? Gallons and gallons of bottled water, a few buckets of superballs (really bouncy rubber balls), 25 cans of paint, hundreds of packets of playing cards, 20 bowling balls on a used car and my favourite, a giant bowl of chocolate pudding! This was on par with the time he wanted to see how many guys in bunny suits can go into a café before the owners complained.
Favourite new TV show – How old is Always Greener? Because other than that, I can’t think of anything else. I still watch old shows. How about Enterprise? Did that come on during the past year?
__________
That’s enough time wasted.
Thanks for reading.
Hope you’ll be sticking around…
Christian Harimanow
Sydney 2003
I missed my one year anniversary of blogging. It was earlier this month. I can’t believe I missed it. Especially since I never even expected to last longer than a month before becoming bored with the medium.
But here I am. One year older. And one year bloggier.
I suppose I’ll go for a drink with Sleepwalker or something. Or I’ll buy myself a present. Maybe create a new banner for this site. I don’t know. Maybe.
It went quite quickly. The year I mean. Even though I did struggle towards the end there. I hope I get to write more in year two.
All the comments that I have for my old blog entries have disappeared. They said that it’s not gone. It’s just been put in storage. So I go look up what I have in storage and there’s nothing there. Oh well. I guess it’s gone.
On Sunday night, I sat riveted, glued to the TV screen, watching the Eurovision song contest. What makes this worse than it already sounds is that I didn’t even get to see the performances. All I saw was the points tally and the final performance by Turkey. But I saw the T.A.T.U. girls hugging each other everytime someone gave them 12 points so I had to stick around.
They really do live in a different world, those Europeans…
Finally, before I go on to write a useless year-end awards thing, Riss wanted a mention if I was to write about blogging for one year. So here you go. Riss. You got yourself a mention ; )
__________
A useless year-end awards thing (xtn, season one, 2002/03)
All my favourite things from the past year.
Favourite CD - Ben Kweller (Sha Sha). This is an example of when random purchases work. I went to HMV, tried this CD by some geeky-looking guy I’ve never heard of, bought it and now it’s my favourite CD of the year. Trust me. It’s really good.
Favourite song - Curbside prophet (Jason Mraz). This guy is like Eminem with a guitar and without the violence… or the swearing… well maybe he’s not much like Eminem at all. But I’d rate these two as the most clever lyricists I’ve heard in a long time, if not ever. And I’m going to his concert! Yay!
Favourite concert – The Bens. I got Riss to thank for bringing me back to watching concerts (see, you got another mention). Although at the time I thought the Counting Crows concert was better (and in some ways it was), thinking back on it now… Kweller’s drugged out charisma, Lee’s um… well he sang well… and Folds’ sheer brilliance on that piano… not to mention the excellent rapport they had with the audience and each other… the way they were bumbling around the stage… and Jimmy Barnes’ surprise appearance… now I’m thinking, man, I’m never gonna see a concert that good ever again!
Favourite movie – Brotherhood of the wolf. Yeah, it’s a weird-arse French martial arts horror period piece. One of those. And I know it probably isn’t the best movie released in the past year. But it stands out as the most memorable. 8 mile gets an honourable mention. So does LOTR: The two towers. Matrix Reloaded gets a thumbs down from me.
Favourite purchase - My car. My fully-sick-mobile. Yeah I’ve been driving this Lancer MR for the past five years anyway… but it feels different when it becomes my car. Especially with the personalised plates and all.
Favourite piece of politics – The war with Iraq changing from being about weapons of mass destruction to being about freeing the Iraqi people. I don’t care much for politics but I found this… um… entertaining. And if anyone happens to read this and thinks I’ve misunderstood something or whatnot, please don’t bother saying anything. I won’t care enough to listen.
Favourite TV moment – When David Letterman decided to drop all this stuff from on top of his building onto an empty alleyway. What did he drop? Gallons and gallons of bottled water, a few buckets of superballs (really bouncy rubber balls), 25 cans of paint, hundreds of packets of playing cards, 20 bowling balls on a used car and my favourite, a giant bowl of chocolate pudding! This was on par with the time he wanted to see how many guys in bunny suits can go into a café before the owners complained.
Favourite new TV show – How old is Always Greener? Because other than that, I can’t think of anything else. I still watch old shows. How about Enterprise? Did that come on during the past year?
__________
That’s enough time wasted.
Thanks for reading.
Hope you’ll be sticking around…
Christian Harimanow
Sydney 2003
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