Nothing much to report

I haven't touched blogs for ages. I have written or read any in a while, and I'm not sure that anyone still reads it except for Joeii. God bless her.

So, since the conjuctivitis, it's been fun fun fun. First there were the nose bleeds. In a period of three days, I had five nose bleeds (though I think they all stemmed from the first), which may not sound that amazing except that I've never had a nose bleed in my life. In the words of Comic Book Guy: 'First. Nosebleed. Ever.'

What else, after that there was the parking fine. Only my second ever. I guess I deserved it. Oh yeah, the Simpsons movie. That was good. So good that the next day I went out and bought two Simpsons boxsets. And Fracture. I saw that too. Not too bad. Ryan Gosling (besides being one of the luckiest guys in the world for dating Rachel McAdams) is looking like a yound Edward Norton. I love him already. He's with Christian Bale and Cillian Murphy in my short list of up-and-coming young(ish) male actors. No, I didn't leave Ryan Phillippe and Freddy Prinze off by accident.

Shortly after that, I ate the sushi of death. Well, that may be pushing it. But I did bite my lip, causing a massive ulcer, and also a piece of my tooth fell out. That led me to panicking and asking around for the nearest dentist. So I found one at Lemon Grove and I got an X-ray (actually three) and the destist tells me I need root canal treatment. So it's hello Dr Nick (no, that's not his real name) six more times and goodbye $3.5K. Excellent. I'm supposed to be planning my move out and my China holiday. At least the nurse is kinda cute. I'm 45% certain they're having an affair.

Here is a quick rundown of my dental visits so far:

1. Expected worst, but it wasn't too bad. Rating: 4/5 stars.

2. Got cocky. 'Meh, this dentist stuff is nothing.' WRONG. It's painful. Uncomfortable. And painful. If I had a choice, I would may have picked swallowing half a piece of Lego. But since I didn't get that choice. We'll never know. Rating: 1/5 stars.

3. I got some posts put in. I got no idea what that means. Rating: 3.5/5 stars.

4. Deep cleaning. Didn't feel a thing. Until I rinsed my mouth and dribbled blood and water because I couldn't feel my chin. Rating: 2/5 stars.

5. Got my dental imprint done. Because I have permanently restricted nasal passages (a lovely story for another day), I could feel myself losing consciousness due to a severe lack of oxygen. Now I have a temporary crown that feels like a tic tac, but doesn't taste as good and doesn't come with Kate Kelton. rating: 3/5

My sixth is next Monday.

OK, so on to last week. My friends Jo and Tony get married. But the day before that, I decide to have a couple of drinks with my workmate who was leaving. I figured two drinks and I'll be home with a pizza in my mouth by 9:30. WRONG. Change of plans. Another friend emails me and says she needs a drink desperately. And Leon is there. And more blonde babes than any drinks I've been to since Sweden. And I end up staying til 1:30. Home by 3:30. Next day, wake up for the tea ceremony by 7:30. (Oh yeah, as an aside, my friends were at Privilege bar that night. Yes, the infamous Asian den of cheap drinks and RnB. I went there the week before. I bumped into about 7 groups of people that I know, all of whom claimed that they never go there, except for Dung who said 'I'm ever every week. If you don't find me here, it means I'm sick' or words to that effect. I had an alright time but going there is a bit like watching porn. It's fun while you're there but you come out feeling seedy and a little sticky. Well that's what people who watch porn tell me it feels like. So last week, I refused to go back there and, all in all, Ithink made the right decision.) So yeah, the wedding. 7:30 start. Suit OK. Shoes a little grimy but doable. All I have is ankle socks. Fine, no one will notice. I have a hangover so I take some Panadol. i survive. Wedding is fun. Hanging out with Chune is fun and like nothing had changed at all (as a second aside, speaking of nothing changing, I had dinner with a couple I hadn't seen in ages. Me and another friend came late to dinner and we got scraps. Leftovers. Really. I had two pieces of tofu and the second last piece of pancake. We thought this was fine since we would have our proper dinner later. When it came time to pay the bill, BAM, the couple does an even split. $15 for scraps. Whatever. All I'm saying is, some things just NEVER change.) OK so the wedding, actually not much to tell. But it was fun. Maybe I was too tired to enjoy it to the most. But they're a lovely couple. I love couples that look like 'We're in love and we want to tell the world'. Not ones who look like 'I'm almost 30, I need to get married.' or 'God would like us to get married and have children, and besides, we can't stand not having sex with each other for much longer.' So yeah, best of luck to them. (Third aside, met a girl who's half Indo Chinese and is also a Kwee/Kueh/Kwok [however you want to spell it]. We MAY be related. Doubt it. Well, she's my Facebook friend now.) So that was that weekend.

Last week, we almost lost a basketball game in the last 3 minutes while I was sitting down. And then I came back on to save the day. At least that's how I imagined it happened in my head. In reality, coincidence may have played an equally important role in the result.

Wednesday, was meant to have dinner with the Chickens: Trevor and Mark. I had made a CD or sampled recordings and everything. This was the cover.

But a late call made me cancel. Instead I had tickets to see Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf at Belvoir. Now, I know I often go on about things I love, but trust me, this is one of the best stage productions you will EVER see. For me, it was the best play I've ever seen. And I've seen quite a few. Everything was just perfect. the actors, the set, the music. And I love Catherine McClements. She's still hot at 42. It was explosive, thrilling, creepy and downright sexy. It's times like these that I realise why I love drama theatre. Because there's so much crap out there see it's hard to remember. No movie experience could touch this. This will stick in my head for years to come. And because it's not a movie, I hate that I can't revisit this like on a DVD. I can't wait for holographic projection technology.

Next night is Ryan Adams. I knew forecast so seeing him play in near darkness wasn't too big a surprise. It was alright. He's an arsehole but I knew that too. Thing with Ryan is, since I got into his music 7 or 8 years ago, i've heard so many other singer/songwriters and bands and whatever, and to me, no one comes close. Ryan could get me edgy, thrilled, excited, emotional all in the one song. When I first heard him live, he came on stage looking uneasy and almost scared. But when he opened his mouth, it was downright angellic and not only I did i feel that, I felt the entire audience felt that. I felt that collective moment when everyone in the building held their breaths and it was almost like time froze. There was no cheering or chatter. It was mesmerising. If you don't believe me, then you just weren't there. Granted, there were no moments like this during this concert but it's him. I can forgive him for just about anything, unless he commits mass homicide somewhere. Even on CD, this guy's got a gift. Yes, all in all this concert was a disappointment, but I think that's because no critic of his (including myself) has ever held him to a reasonable bar. There are much better performers out there but Ryan Adams is Ryan Adams. Maybe if I had seen Dylan in person in the 60s, Ryan would be a pale afterthought, but I'll never quite know that. And in my generation, no one I've heard can even hold a candle to him. (Sincere apologies to my other 'hero', Jack White. I'll write about him in detail at some point. Promise.)

So that was that. But the night was tainted by the fact that my car got broken into in Enmore. Nothing was stolen except about $6 worth of coins and the triagular bit of the rear passenger side door was the only thing broken. I hate petty criminals. Like the person who broke into my apartment a few years ago. Why can't they just get normal jobs like the rest of us? I really wish there were vigilantes out there that just went around beating up thieves and bulglars. The world needs superheroes! Right now, I really wish I could beat up that person who broke into my car. And yes, I know it's not a Catholic thing to do.

Well, then friday, went to dentist, and then hung out with the usual gang for a bit. And saturday had out first practice in five weeks. We sounded pretty rusty but it felt great to get back into it. We really need to keep this momentum up. We got eight songs now. Sort of.

Finally, just a little thing (bigger than an aside perhaps). Throughout the years I've had this habit of hanging out with girls who have boyfriends and then eventually the boyfriends end up hating me. I find this really annoying because to this day, I've never done anything bad in any of these cases. So it's almost like I'm paying the time but not having done the crime. A couple of them have turned out pretty ugly. Now it might be happening again soon if the pattern keeps going. I've been hanging out with a friend of mine who does indeed have a boyfriend. In the past week, I've seen her three times one on one. And I would hate for it to ever get ugly in any way because I really have been enjoying hanging out with her. For now he doesn't hate me (I actually think he's a rather pleasant fellow) and maybe it won't come to that unless their relation gets rocky (no signs of that at the moment) but it's not like it's my fault. She asks to hang out with me as much as I ask her. And I've never said not to bring him along. He just never ends up coming. Yes, I do realise that it will only get harder since I'm older now. And the fact that I think she's really hot... maybe I should have mentioned that from the start.

Adventures in Conjunctivitisland

I probably should have gone home on Friday but I persisted with the trivia night even though my eyes were already bloodshot by then and excreting a sticky substance that looked like a cross between pus and snot.

On Saturday morning I woke up and had to peel the green crust that had locked my eyes shut tight. And my left eyelid was swollen and the redness was getting out of hand. In the words of Casey Jones from the original TMNT movie, 'I look like I just called Mike Tyson a sissy'.

Since then, I've been to the doctor, tried four types of eye drops and finally it's coming around. I've been home doing very little now for four days.

Back to work tomorrow.

The fun never stops.

Federer is really really good

I like Federer. I think he's the most likeable sporting superstar of my generation (and by superstar, I'm talking upper upper echelon once-in-every-20-years-type stars). Michael Jordan was too relentless, Tiger Woods plays too boring a sport, Michael Schumacher still is a dickhead and Ian Thorpe sells pearls.

Last night, Federer beat Nadal in a very tough 5-setter to win Wimbledon for the 5th time, equaling Bjorn Borg's record. If you care at all about tennis, then you've already heard this today a million times. But what was so great about last night was that it was by far the most difficult win of his career. I've witnessed at least half of Federer's grand slam victories and he's never looked so vulnerable. In fact, I think it's fair to say that Nadal was in fact the better player on the day (or at least the most consistent). Federer had a lot of trouble containing him.

But what was so impressive and memorable was that Federer had this turbo boost button that he managed to turn on everytime he needed it. In basketball terms, he was clutch.

Nadal had so much more momentum going into the 5th but Roger just willed his way to the championship.

By the end, I don't know how he managed to pull that off. But he did. Like an absolute true champion.

I don't know what Roger Federer's legacy will be. If he ends up winning 15+ slams then his legacy is cemented, but even if he doesn't win any more from now, he should still be in the argument for the greatest ever.

OK, I was gonna write more but I just realised that the Ryan Adams tickets I bought were standing BEHIND the seats because they've reconfigured the theatre for this show. I almost threw up a little in my mouth.

I’m a geek

So the most exciting news to come out of last week was the hint (yes, just a HINT) from George Lucas that there might be a new Star Wars movie in the works. Speculation says that it will be set way in the past, in the golden age of the Old Republic.

Now why is this exciting?

Only because that’s the setting of the GREATEST COMPUTER GAMES EVER!

Yes, I wasted many many hours playing Knights of the Old Republic and its sequel (The Sith Lords). I’d go as far as saying that I like the stories in these games even better than the Star Wars movies themselves. I know that sounds stupid. But it’s true!

Having said that, though, I know that George Lucas will end up writing and directing it, and then cast a crappy actor (Mark Hamill or Hayden Christensen) and the movie will be crap.

So here are my suggestions to make this potential movie good (no, GREAT!), and Mr Lucas, if you end up reading this, I was kidding about the whole ‘you’ll make this crap’ thing… honest! I love your stuff.

Star Wars Episode Zero: The Knights of the Old Republic

Director: Joss Whedon
Easy choice. Firefly shows he can do great space operas. Just the right balance of action, sentimentality and cheesiness. The movie would be in very safe hands.

Writer: Michael Chabon
Many credit his co-writing hand for giving Spider-man 2 the depth and gravitas that most comic book movies lack. I think he’s the best writer working at the moment and most people don’t even know who he is. And he is a mega geek. Perfect.

Cast

Bastilla Shan: Kate Beckinsale
Easy choice. Hot, British and has shown to be adept at playing an action hero (Underworld). The choice of who plays Bastilla could make or break the movie.

Carth Onasi: Ben Affleck
We need someone a straight, honest and clean-cut military man. Ben Affleck fits all that, and has just the right amount of self-righteousness for a supporting good guy.

Mission Vao: Emma Watson
She’d look perfect (with blue face paint and head tails) as the street smart Twe’lek kid.

Zaalbar: Christian Harimanow
Dear Mr Lucas
Please let me play Zaalbar. I would make a great wookie. I love wookies. I’m sure the acting won’t be so hard in a hairy suit and I don’t have to make my own sounds, right? Even if I do, I can do wookie sounds after a few drinks! I know I’m a little too short to be a wookie (what are they, like 6’5”?) but surely I can wear platforms or something. I love wookies. Please let me play a wookie. Please! Wookies rule!
Christian.

Canderous Ordo: Russell Crowe
He’d have to grey his hair. But Gladiator proved he’s got the voice and the toughness to play a hardened warrior.

HK-47: Hugo Weaving
Who else but Agent Smith could play a psychotic killer robot? And he was brilliant behind a mask in V for Vandetta.

Jolee Bindu: Ron Glass
This character is a Mace Windu rip-off and a token black guy. He should be played by Ron Glass who played the token black guy in Firefly and suits the character. A ref at KGV looks exactly like Jolee Bindu but I don’t think he’s an actor.

The Handmaiden: Keira Knightley
She’s tall, lean and athletic. Perfect to play an Echani warrior. She looks good with short hair too. Plus everybody loves her.

Atton Rand: Robert Downey Jr.
Downey plays the perfect dodgy sidekick who you’re not you can trust. He’s done it a million times. He’s a little old now but otherwise he’s perfect.

Kreia: Helen Mirren
Absolutely perfect. A hard-as-nails older woman who’s fit enough to convince you that she could kill you with a lightsaber (which rules out Judi Dench).

Juhani: Milla Jovovich
Athletic, has an accent and looks vaguely cat-like. With a bit of make-up, she looks positively Cathar.

Visas Marr: Scarlett Johansson
Nobody in Hollywood does sultry like Scarlett and no character in the games is more sultry than Visas. The only other person who might pull this off is Angelina Jolie, but nah. Scarlett is better.

Bao-Dur: Elijah Wood
I know he doesn’t look like him, but Wood plays earnest well and Bao-Dur is as earnest as they come. He could even get to speak like Frodo in this role.

Mira: Rachel McAdams
She’s hot and plays a comical bitch really well (Mean girls). I could believe her as a bounty hunter. My second choice would be Sarah Michelle Gellar.

Calo Nord: Vin Diesel
Calo Nord is all muscle and tough talk. And so is Vin Diesel. Easy.

Darth Malak: Gary Oldman
We’ve seen him play psycho villains before (The Professional, Fifth element). John Malkovich could pull this off too.

Darth Bandon: Colin Farrell
I admit this is purely because Bandon looks like Farrell’s Bullseye in Daredevil. But I stand by this choice.

Darth Sion: Tim Roth
He’s one of those off-beat actors that could do weird characters. Darth Sion is a dead guy whose flesh is kept together by the strength of the Force alone. That’s weird enough.

Darth Nihlus: Any bozo looking for work in Hollywood
Nihlus says nothing, is behind a mask and does limited fighting. Anyone could play him.

Revan: Edward Norton

After Kingdom of Heaven, I’m convinced there’s no better actor behind a mask (Hugo Weaving is one behind. Just.). And Norton could pull off the role of the fallen jedi. Just look at him. He looks unstable! (Except in Keeping the Faith). Revan is the most important character of this era. He’s gotta be perfect.

The Exile: Cillian Murphy
He’s in every movie these days. And for good reason. He’s a very flexible actor. He’d be perfect as a soul-searching exiled jedi. Johnny Depp could do it too. But then Johnny Depp can do anything.

And there you have it! The perfect Knights of the Old Republic movie!

Random thing I discovered as I was doing this post: There are heaps of naked pictures of Helen Mirren on the net. It was rather unsettling.

Also, Icky Thump is fantastic!

This is also fantastic!

Talking with Sleepwalker 23.05.07 7:24pm or thereabouts

Sometimes you frustrate me.

Other times, it's really nice and I laugh.

It's good to laugh.

Although some consistency would be nice.

But I guess that's not what I like about you.

And I do.

- What is that? A song? A poem?

- Maybe.

- It sucks.

- Thanks.

- You use 'nice' too much.

- I like 'nice'.

- I can see that.

- I'm not much of a poet.

- I can see that too.

- You're not nice.

- We can't all be.

There was this fat guy on the train who was trying to pick up these two girls. One of them was cute.

- And the other one?

- Stop interrupting.

So he asks them what nationality they are and the cute one says she's 'Aussie'. And the other one...

- The ugly one?

- I didn't say she was ugly.

- Was she fat?

...and the other one says the same thing and then he says 'I thought youse was lebo. Are you lebo?' and they say no and he says that he's 'half lebo' and they giggle and try to ignore him. Somehow though, he worms his way into sitting with them.

I mean, he's fat and he's unattractive.

- What are you trying to say? Did you want to sit with them?

- They were probably 18.

- So did you?

Anyway, then he says 'State of Origin is on tonight' and the cute one says 'Oh cool, who's playing?'

- Hey that's pretty funny. So what did the ugly one say?

- Nothing.

- So she was ugly.

- I didn't...argggh!

But they got up and told him that they were getting off next stop.

- And?

He let them go at first. But then he went up after them but they were gone. They didn't get off at the next station either.

- How did you know?

- Because I got off at the next station. And they weren't there.

- So you're saying they must have changed carriages or something just to get away from him?

So the girls were just... yeah, what you said.

- You liked that, didn't you?

- Actually, yes.

- That's not very nice.

- We can't all be.

And so as we walked home he asks 'what are you going to do about this?' and I say 'what?' and he says 'you know...' and I say that I want to go to sleep.

Sleepwalker says that I always say that when I don't want to talk about something.

And I tell him that he's right.

But that I really do want to go to sleep as well.

Two really badly-written reviews of sorts

I have no idea why the movie is called The Science of Sleep because I couldn’t spot any ‘science’ in it. But I think it would make a perfect date movie, except I wasn’t on a date, which is a shame I guess. But I still really loved the movie.

My friend wasn’t as enthused as I was about it. She said it was nice but there weren’t any memorable scenes in it. I must respectfully disagree. I can still picture lots of memorable scenes.

I think I have this soft spot for movies (or books or whatever) with weird, awkward (but well-intentioned) guys making a mess of their lives. I also really liked Punch Drunk Love and Benny and Joon, to name a couple. Characters like that make great feelgood stories to me.

Gael Garcia Bernal was brilliant in the role. I haven’t seen him in anything else, but I might check out his other movies now because it looks like he might be someone with a Johnny Depp-like scope for acting. He was entirely captivating.

The film’s story is almost completely improbable, chaotic and awkward. In real life, such a man would probably be institutionalised. But it works because it is about sleep and dreams and stuff. Think of it like the good dream to David Lynch’s nightmares. A lot of the humour (and actually, the insights as well) is very Vonnegutian.

AND

It even has a White Stripes song in it.

I’m definitely buying the DVD at some point. You should see it too. It’s good.

__________

Today I met Natalie, the Youtube vlogger star. She said she’s in the top 30 most viewed and has over 19,000 subscibers. To me, that makes her a star.

So I had a look at her vlog (communitychannel) tonight.

Well, I really can’t see the appeal with video blogging. I saw that lonelygirl one after I read about it in the papers (yeah, I know it turned out to be fake) and this one is pretty much the same format as that. Besides the fact that she’s pretty (so many comments like ‘communitychannel, your so HOT! – why do so many people get your and you’re mixed up?! It’s really not that hard, people!), I’m not sure why people would get all that interested in a stranger’s everyday life (OK, so she also dresses up, like as a school girl or an evil teacher, but that only explains her male stalker subscribers) or maybe I’ve just never really given it a chance. I guess people say the same thing about blogging. And I watch Home and Away and this is pretty much like a soapie. And her production quality is really good. And now that I’ve met her in person, I guess the whole thing becomes a little more interesting (even though I’ll probably never see her again) and I'll probably watch more. And a part of me is already thinking of ideas to make my own video blog (if I had a camera and more time and some video editing software). So it's probably all a really good thing. And I think I’m contradicting myself too much for one paragraph. So I’ll shut up and watch Heroes now.

Christian, David and Paul

[Spoiler warning to anyone that might be watching the play]

The reason why I generally hate watching or reading true stories and biographies is that I end up spending a lot of time wondering how much of it was truly true.

To me, fiction is king. I say never let truth get in the way of a good story. And anyone who thinks that truth is stranger than fiction probably just doesn’t have a very good imagination.

Tonight I was at the newly renovated Belvoir Street Theatre with my friend David to watch Paul.

Paul, being the name of the play.

David and I are high school buddies and we are both Catholics.

David is an openly gay Catholic.

I am an openly absurdist Catholic.

Neither of us are meant to exist.

But whatever.

To those unfamiliar with the Biblical story, Saul was on a mission to Damascus to weed out (and kill) Christians when he got blinded by God and was converted to the Christian cause, and even changed his name to Paul.

From there, he teamed up with Peter (Jesus’ original disciple) to spread the good word around the area to any non-believers they could find.

It’s kinda like he was a religious super hero and that was his origin story.

He is most famous for this quote (and what a beautiful quote it is):

If I have all the eloquence of men or of angels, but speak without love, I am simply a gong booming or a cymbal clashing. If I have the gift of prophecy, understanding all the mysteries there are, and knowing everything, and if I have faith in all its fulness, to move mountains, but without love, then I am nothing at all. If I give away all that I possess, piece by piece, and if I even let them take my body to burn it, but am without love, it will do me no good whatever.

Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous; love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offence, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people's sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes.

Paul and Peter are widely regarded as the ones responsible for the birth of Christianity.

This play is the conspiracy theorist’s account of that birth, and watching it was interesting in that it was an uncomfortable, yet enjoyable, experience. The set was modernised to reflect today’s middle east (about the only humdrum part of the play. I mean, come on… the whole ‘middle east hasn’t changed in 2000 years’ thing is so overdone). The cast was brilliant, with Peter being the standout in my opinion. Paul is portrayed as a religious nut who shows enough flashes of wisdom of presence to make you sit up and listen.

The story plays out cleverly. It starts out conventionally and slowly starts revealing ‘what actually happened’ and ends with a kind of ‘so what if it’s all lies as long as they’re beautiful lies?’ Not until the very end do you really get to know how far the playwright is going to push it (and it's pretty far). But it's done with a kind of tenderness that I found admirable.

The reveal is wonderfully done because the start sucks you into the Christianity story before it systematically rips apart the stitchings. The first act ends with the now-popular (thaaaanks Dan Brown) revelation that Mary Magdalene was Jesus’ wife, to several gasps from the audience.

And that was another enjoyable part of the play – watching the audience. They were so animated. You can see the atheists scoffing a lot in the beginning and then having sighs of relief in the second half as the revelations come out.

Actually, pretty much the entire play’s success comes from the audience's constant struggle between what you already think to be true and what you’re afraid is coming next to ruin those beliefs. By the end, there’s little doubt that it’s an atheist’s point of view. But that’s OK by me. I enjoyed it. I was gripped the entire way.

If you’re an atheist and you enjoyed it, you’d probably sum up the play with ‘don’t let truth get in the way of a good story’. And if you’re a believer and you enjoyed it, you’d probably also sum it up with ‘don’t let truth get in the way of a good story’.

Except they would mean two very different things.

The highlight of my day

A: Have you guys seen that Wild Hogs movie?

D: What's that?

A: It's the one about the middle-aged guys who go out on Harleys. It's got John Travolta and that guy from Fargo.

D: Who?

A: And it's got that black guy. What's-his-name.

D: Danny Glover?

A: No. Um... Martin somebody.

D: Martin Glover?

A: No...

D: Martin Sheen?

A: No... black!

Memoirs of a hack writer (or... The love that dares to speak its name)

The very first story I can remember writing was about a ninja. He went into hiding as a child and then didn’t come out until he was thirty, by which time he had become an incredible skilled fighter. I don’t quite remember how the rest went, but I assume he killed a lot of people.

The second story I remember writing was pretty much a rip-off of ET but with elements of Flight of the navigator thrown in. I can’t remember much of this one either, but there was a joke about humans looking like alien hat stands that was particularly not funny in hindsight.

I think I was about six or seven.

What followed were years of painfully awkward and derivative science fiction and fantasy stories. They’re all a blur now. But they all modelled themselves pretty much after the books that I read at the time. I think I read a lot of crap at the time.

The first serious book I ever got into was a little novel called To kill a mockingbird. That one simply blew me away. So much so that it inspired me to write what would be my first serious piece of writing. That was a short and overly idealistic ode to racial equality that I called A case of black and white. I flogged that one around for years, getting it published in several student publications. Around the same time was my first attempt at humour writing. That was another poem, called Ode to liquid paper. I flogged that one around too. As far as poetry goes, those two were the best I’ve ever written.

I peaked in Year 10.

In Year 12, I was served with three masterpieces of writing that would change the way I look at the English language forever.

The first was Hamlet. This taught me about isolation, angst and the internal monologue.

The second was Great expectations. This taught me about love and obsession.

The third, and most influential of all, was Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. This taught me about rhetoric, irony and the absurd.

What would spawn out of this period of my life was a romantic trilogy called Three ways to fall in love with Sally. In three unrelated stories, three tragically clueless boys fall for three girls, each of them called Sally. And each of them end up heartbroken due to their own stupidity.

I still remember this one. And remember it fondly. They were juvenile stories and I wouldn’t want to read them now because I suspect that they were actually really badly written. I know I would cringe. But I like the ideas and maybe one day I will update them. Or maybe not.

There would be four other significant pieces of writing that I’ve done that would bring us up-to-date to the present.

The first was the screenplay called The finer subtleties of role-play, which would be my most polished piece of writing to date. Anita ended up filming it. Not to my satisfaction, but to my satisfaction that it was even filmed at all.

The second was my epic Asian-Australian soap opera Everything you want, which is both my greatest writing achievement and my greatest failure. It’s an overlong behemoth of a script with an approximate running time of 4.5 hours. It still haunts me to this day. It just won’t die! I’ll revisit this sometime too. I’ve tried a few times already. I still believe there’s a lot of good stuff to be salvaged from it.

The third would be my long-suffering and painfully unfinished serial Magic for beginners. I know at least three people who want me to finish this. And I will. I promise.

But I think the best thing I have ever written was a blog entry from 19 July 2002 called S is for Sleepwalker (or Falling in love on trains). I invite you to look it up in my archives if you’ve never read it or you haven’t read it since 2002.

I’ve probably read it over 200 times.

It’s my favourite because it’s probably the only time that I have ever come close to achieving complete clarity in what I was trying to say. I love it because it is so short and succinct, compared to my usual verbosity. That one piece said everything that I have ever wanted to say in a piece of creative writing.

In hindsight, that’s how my writing life unfolded to this moment. And this moment is the moment of clarity where I realise that I read my own writing. All the time. Revisit them again and again. Like old friends or family. Someone pointed this out to me tonight.

And you know what?

I do. I probably read my own blog more than anyone else’s. I love my own blog more than anyone else’s.

Even more than Wil Wheaton’s.

And that’s why I write. For the love of it. If other people love it, then great! I want everyone to read everything I write. Even the crap stuff. But if I wrote simply to get self-reinforcement, then I would have given up long ago.

I use this blog to the most of my abilities. I’ve done so much with it. I’ve experimented. I’ve written fake blogs. I’ve copied the styles of other bloggers to see what kinds of writing attract what kinds of comments or numbers of comments. And I do it all because I get a real kick out of it and I want to learn more and more.

Some people don’t understand. For example, when I wrote that Salem entry that spawned 22 comments, you should have seen me at the computer that night. My body had had so little sleep and was about to conk out. But I was on fire on the keyboard. There was so much I needed to get down before they’d dissipate into writers’ ether. I was like a man possessed. And not because the subject matter particularly mattered to me. It was because I had words formed into sentences and they danced around in my head when I was reading the other blogs. Just begging to be blogged. I got so carried away. Put everything down, then re-read it. Trimmed it. Or expanded, depending on what’s what. Sure it was cheap that I did at other people’s expense. But I was having fun. I was loving it. The adrenaline was pumping. Some people need to bungee. I just need a keyboard, some blog fodder and minimal sleep.

The Midnight disease. Like August Van Zorn. Like Kilgore Trout.

People can read what I write and question my talent or my commitment. I do that myself all the time. But I do know that the love is real. It’s the same as when I pick up the basketball or thrash six strings of steel. There are moments when I realise that I’m doing something purely for the love of it. Good or bad. And in these moments (not all the time), when I lose myself in these moments, that’s when I know I’m alive. And if you read this and you can’t understand what I’m saying or you think I’m being over the top, then I feel sincerely sorry for you. Because I think everyone should (and deserves to) feel like this about something in their lives.

And thus ends my most self-absorbed entry to date.

There’s probably only me and Sleepwalker here now. But if you’re still reading with us to this point (without skimming the rest, mind you), then you must really like my writing. Or you really like me. Or, hopefully, both.

But for now, to everyone and anyone who has ever visited this page since its conception...

Whether you’ve been here once or a hundred times...

Whether you’ve enjoyed, hated or been devoid of any opinion of what I write here...

I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you for sharing the love.

Word of the day

Irony is like the Where's Wally? (or Where's Waldo? for all you North American readers... I'm sure there are lots of you... ahem) of the English language. People love spotting it and then telling everyone else that they've spotted it.

It makes them feel smart. S-m-r-t. Smart.

Unfortunately, spotting Irony is often more difficult that one suspects and when you think you have found one but are actually mistaken, it is safe to say that you will come out looking like something that rhymes with Boron.

If you are unlucky, you may even get beaten up.

On the other hand, you may correctly spot Irony but incorrectly assume that the person you're telling this to has not spotted it (often the author of wherever you found the Irony). While you would still be technically correct, this is the equivalent of spotting Wally on the cover of the book.

So, again, you will probably come out looking like a Boron.

At this point I would also recommend against trying to explain that you are still technically correct.

It will not save you.

In fact, if you are unlucky, you may even get beaten up.

Word.

The best Anzac day ever

I gotta be honest with you, I don't feel Anzac day. It's just a day off for me. I have no real emotional link with the Anzacs and won't pretend to.

But I do enjoy the day off. And I enjoy clocking off early and having a beer or a few on Anzac day eve.

So that's what I did yesterday. Went to the RSL, had a few drinks. And I won a meat tray.

Yes, a MEAT TRAY!

Do you realise how great that is?!

5 beef steaks
5 pork chops
a whole leg of lamb
5 pieces of unidentified meat (I think it's lamb. My mum thinks it's beef.)

Then I went home and watched Pan's Labyrinth with my mum. Fan-bloody-tastic movie. Depressing though. But really poetic, which appeals to me.

Then today, we went to Habibs to farewell James and hung out the rest of the day with good friends, junk food, Frozen Coke and whatever else.

After that I watched TMNT at the cinema and got to use my new 3 phone to check the movie times. That turned out to be a lot more fun than I expected. I would almost say that it was good. But it's probably just because it's TMNT. Because TMNT will always be special.

Anyway, a few years ago I went wil Lil to Centennial park and we brought two sausages and a couple of bread rolls to eat. Then we went bike riding and Lil showed me in disgust that her shorts were wet with sweat. That was a pretty funny Anzac day (anytime you're with a girl with a wet crotch, you know you're having a good day!).

But this was the best Anzac day ever!

Did I mention I won a meat tray?

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

From Becky

Stuff about books and stuff

I have a problem.

I love reading books and I love buying books.

But I am such a slow reader that it takes me weeks (and sometimes months) just to finish one book.

So I have this huge backlog of books that I've bought and haven't read.

Actually, I have another problem.

When I read a good book, I find myself wanting to read other books of that ilk, so those outside that genre get neglected.

For example, after reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norell, I started wanting to read other fantasy/sci-fi books before I realised that I don't really like books of that genre.

Generally, I like quirky books. At least I have for a long time. So if someone recommends to me, say, a book about the courage of two orphans as they escape from a war torn Middle-Eastern country to make a new home in America, I'm sure it's a very good book but it's not going to be high on my list.

BUT

If it's about the courage of two midget orphans as they escape from a war-torn Middle-Eastern country to make a new home in Las Vegas, it might pique my interest.

Anyway, here are the books that I already own that I haven't read yet and are top of the list:

Lunar Park (Bret Easton Ellis)
American Gods (Neil Gaiman)
Morphing the Blues: The White Stripes and the strange relevance of Detroit (Martin Roach)
The Final Solution (Michael Chabon)
The man who mistook his wife for a hat (Oliver Sacks)

Currently, I'm reading Chronicles Volume 1 by Bob Dylan.

Lynching like it's Salem 1692

It's like this.

BloggerA writes a very short comedic piece about losing her sunnies in a dept store and then buying some plates or something. And she names it after a James Blunt song.

Not long after, BloggerB also writes a very short comedic piece about losing something, except this time it's about an IPod, I think.

You know, it's that whole 'I can't live without something frivolous and superficial, so much so that I treat it like a real live loved one' thing that makes you sound hip. Whatever.

Oh yeah, and BloggerB also named it after the same James Blunt song. (Gotta love a sad-eyed crooner with a Castrati voice.)

So then BloggerA's next entry does everything but name BloggerB and publicly crucifies her (oops, did I just reveal her gender...) for plagiarism. This is followed by some chest thumping bravado (along the lines of 'You're messing with the wrong biatch') and Meet-the-parents-style threats (something like 'I'm watching you', 'Do it again and I'll name you!' or 'I know when you shower' or something).

This of course attracts the attention of BloggerC, BloggerD, BloggerE and other assorted minions who all chime in with virtual torches and pitchforks and cry the likes of 'You go girl!' and 'She did not just mess with this biatch!!! She did not! No way!' and 'If you two fight, that evil heathen plagiarist slut wouldn't last three seconds!'. OK, I don't think they said 'slut'. That was just for emphasis. Sorry.

(Aside: At this point, I'm imagining BloggerA to be a 6'4" professional wrestler from the Republic of Georgia. But no. I think she's a regular Korean girl. But that's still close. Same hemisphere...)

BloggerB (under the guise of 'Anonymous' - I'm sure someone else has used that same moniker before - plagiarism! Hang the harlot!) replies with 'It's a parody. Drop it' and you can almost see her crying with distress in her words. If it had been a hand-written note, it would have been smudged with tears. This is followed with more of the above cries and some more threats by BloggerA's minions, as well as extrapolating musings (like 'Gee, she's plagiarising now. Maybe she's also a dog molester.' OK, now I think I'm making stuff up but you get the point, right? Right? Come on!)

Next up to stir the pot, BloggerC writes her own take on this alleged crime on artistic integrity, which of course attracts the attention of the same minions (including an appearance by BloggerA herself!) and they all pretty much say the same comments they said on BloggerA's entry and 'Anonymous' again produces the statement that it was a parody and could everyone please freakin' drop the freakin' matter! (I think her hand was steadier this time. Or maybe she was so distressed that she got someone else to write it for her.)

And... that's where we pretty much stand.

And so it's my turn to chime in, since I need to have a say in everything frivolous.

OK, here it is.

Get ready...

YOU'RE ALL LOSERS!

There I said it. [insert smiley face with tongue sticking out and winking eye]

What is the big deal? Why the lynching?

Sure she plagiarised. Of course she did. And no, she has no idea what a parody is. But so what? No one is profiting from anything on any of your blogs. BloggerB certainly hasn't won any fans for her version (if number of comments is anything to go by). If anything, BloggerC made a good point. 'Why would anyone want to plagiarise a blog?' That's almost like going to the toilet and stealing someone else's dump and putting it in your own toilet bowl to make it look like yours.

But here's something that both BloggerA and BloggerC forgot to do. Ask her why.

What good is the bravado? What good are the threats?

This one is an absolute doosey...

We're watching you chick. Taking my web link off of your blog list doesn't change that. You know who you are, I know who are are, we have buckets of mutual friends and we've met once or twice so let's stop here before it gets awkward.

Before it gets awkward? Holy crap, that warning itself was one of the most awkward cringeworthy moments of my blogging career.

I really hate how so many bloggers are so self-righteous about stuff like this. Get over yourselves. This medium is the plankton excrement of literature. Who cares if someone copies you for absolutely no discernable form of personal gain? Just ignore them. Or look down on them or if you're curious (as I am), ask them why.

And on the other side of this very blunt coin ('blunt' geddit? geddit?), BloggerB, why can't you just acknowledge, apologise and be done with it? Claiming it's a parady is ridiculous. Farcical even! It's almost as bad a crime against the English language as Alanis' Ironic. Almost.

Isn't it a parody?
Don't you think?
A little too paro..er..dic
Yeah, I really do think.
It's like copying
Someone else' blog
It's a .... etc.

Man, I'm all worked up about this now.

So much so that I will bring up something that I wasn't going to. Upon reading these blogs, I remembered something I wrote in my archives back in 2004. Here it is.

Goodnight my cover, goodnight my friend

I can only bring myself to blog about this now, thirteen days after the cataclysmic event that shook my life into a buzzy flubbering gas. Breaking up is not un-hard to do. I want to lock myself in a wardrobe and listen to Billy Ray Cyrus' "Achy breaky heart" on repeat, in slow motion, in reverse (it actually says 'Satan is my homeboy' if you do this), in karaoke style. Anything to elongate my past thoughts of you and of being with you. It feels like our trip ended before it started. I really miss you already. Word. I regret the terrible blogs I ever wrote on you and did to you. Why was I singing careless whisper, so cavalier about your level of wellness? The not-best thing is, I can't even isolate our break to a scientifically precise certainty. I only know that you pissed off there in Myer, like a brunted gullet, and I tried to comb over you, place you down. I was scared, afraid of what others would think of my lunatic-like behaviour but I was really wanting to find you and tell you how much I needed you in my life. After a long time, I was faced with no choice but to give up. It was time for you to leave. Rest in peace full head of hair. Hello receding hairline!

Posted by xtn on 29 February 2004, 2.34am

Compare for yourself. What do you think? Coincidence? I think not!

Oh, don't know where the original is? Um... I was gonna keep this anonymous... but... what the hell...

Here you go. Follow the links and have fun with it.

I know I did! [insert smiley face with... um... a big smile?]

God bless you, Mr Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. was my hero.

In so many ways, I've wanted to be like him.

When I first read Cat's cradle, and then Slaughterhouse V shortly after, I felt a connection that I had never felt before to a novel. His narrators are so weary of the world and the motions we go through every day that we call life, and yet they care so much. They can't help but care. It was like as if the writer of these books were me, only infinitely more eloquent.

Vonnegut was funny, witty and had an Oscar Wilde-like knack of being quotable, but most importantly, he was so human. So insightful. Through his manic blend of satire, science fiction and many other genres, he showed an understanding of the human condition that few writers (if any) could match.

His books were never really mainstream. They are maybe a little too 'out-there' for that. He was more a cult figure. But his followers are many and rabid. And I count myself as one. Without hesitation, I would say that he is the most profound writer that I have ever read. Nobody even comes close. He just seems to speak my language and I understand. And he does it all while making me laugh too.

I've always encouraged people to read his books. Once I even gave one away on this very blog. I own a few and will be willing to lend out. Just ask. They're books to pass around. And then talk about afterwards. Easy reads. Often with pictures.

But for now, I'll let the man speak for himself. Here are some of my favourite quotes of his taken from various sources and put down here as if to raise him to the status of prophet or deity.

I think he would have found that amusing.

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful what we pretend to be.

Beware of the man who works hard to learn something, learns it, and finds himself no wiser than before... He is full of murderous resentment of people who are ignorant without having come by their ignorance the hard way.

Those who believe in telekinetics, raise my hand.

Charm was a scheme for making strangers like and trust a person immediately, no matter what the charmer had in mind.

Artists use frauds to make human beings seem more wonderful than they really are. Dancers show us human beings who move much more gracefully than human beings really move. Films and books and plays show us people talking much more entertainingly than people really talk, make paltry human enterprises seem important. Singers and musicians show us human beings making sounds far more lovely than human beings really make. Architects give us temples in which something marvelous is obviously going on. Actually, practically nothing is going on.

Listen: we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you different.

People have to talk about something just to keep their voice boxes in working order so they'll have good voice boxes in case there's ever anything really meaningful to say.

True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.

Roses are red
And ready for plucking
You're sixteen
And ready for high school.

All persons, living and dead, are purely coincidental.

If you really want to hurt your parents, and you don’t have nerve enough to be a homosexual, the least you can do is go into the arts.

You realize, of course, that everything I say is horseshit.

On 11 April 2007, Kurt Vonnegut lived to the age of 84 and then brain injuries got to him and he died.

So it goes.

Happy Easter

Easter is not really something that people go out of their way to celebrate the way that we do with Christmas. I've always suspected that the reason could be as arbitrary as the fact that Christmas occurs at the convenient time of the year's end, but I dunno.

In terms of my faith, however, Easter is a lot more important. Christmas was the start of Jesus' journey, but Easter was his fateful conclusion. Symbolically, Easter reveals Jesus at both his most starkly human moment (his crucifixion and the days leading up to it) as well as his most divine moment (his resurrection). I know that the Easter season usually concentrates on the latter, being his ultimate victory and all. But to me, it's always been more about his humanity.

The fear he shows in the Garden of Gethsemani. The doubts he displays on the cross.

I know not all Christians read these events in the Bible the same way I do, but that's what I see and I love him for these moments of weakness. For these moments of humanity. I believe that there is no courage and there is no sacrifice without weakness. And nothing illustrates this better than Easter.

And I'm thankful.

I spent this Easter in Avoca with a few friends and we pretty much did nothing. We ate, we drank, we sang and I made a pork roast at 12am on Sunday. We bitched about people, I discovered pleasant things about others, and it was fun. And that was pretty much perfect, really.

__________

In retrospect...

My last entry was probably a little harsh. It was out of frustration, I suppose. As many of my entries are. Seems like these days, frustration is pretty much the only push for me to write. And that sucks.

On a somewhat related note, sorry Becks for always giving you a hard time on your blog. I may not immitate you... but I obviously do sit up and listen from time to time.

Well... that's it.

Happy Easter everybody.

Pocket universes

I was exchanging emails today with a few friends and it really struck me how little I could relate to what was being said. One guy, for example, has this thing for really nice and expensive headphones at the moment. But he also rarely (if ever) buys actual CDs (blank CDRs don't count) and he says he doesn't listen to entire albums. Which only leaves pretty much the hit songs. Now, I don't have a problem as such with his approach to enjoying music, but it's times like these that I realise how far I personally am from such a line of thought. My most expensive headset cost me $30 (on sale, 50% off) and my favourite pair came free from an Adobe seminar. But I own buckets and buckets of CDs. I love albums. I have a 20GB mp3 player but I think I've only ever had the thing on shuffle once or twice. I love researching music. Finding influences. Counting Crows led me to Ryan Adams, which led me to Bob Dylan, Gram Parsons, Neil Young and a bunch of other old farts who made some absolutely fantastic records.

But I'm getting sidetracked here. The point, if there is one, is that so many people are sheltered in their own ways and yet they might not ever realise it. This group of friends, to generalise broadly, are the poster children for the disposable generation. They earn a lot (but want more), they're all highly intelligent and generally rather conservative. I personally have only met a handful of people whose high school TER (or UAI or whatever) was below 50. And 50, by definition, is the average! I have to constantly remind myself of this fact, because I honestly cannot fathom how a person can try hard in school and get below 50. Go ahead and judge me harsh if you like, but it's really very hard for me to understand something that I'm not. And maybe this is the real point I am trying to make.

I differ from this stereotype in that I really don't value money that much. I know that sounds like a wank, but it's true. Money is merely about survival and being able to fund whatever I want to do (which hopefully doesn't involve money). I've spent my whole adult life chasing career paths and interests that are totally impractical in terms of earning me a lot of money. I'm in the wrong industry right now if I wanted to be wealthy. And it's very hard for me to care. My brother has asked me to come to investment seminars and whatnot in the past and I really am not the least bit interested. Whenever somebody says to me that 'time is money', I feel like decking them.

My friends at work are totally different. Most of them aren't anywhere near as well-off as my other friends, they're much less conservative and are all convinced that everybody they know are Labor voters and thus cannot understand why the Liberals have been in power for so long. They're pretty much overgrown versions of the university art student stereotype. And I can't really understand them either.

From here, I'm gonna extrapolate (as I often do) that opinions are formed as much from a lack of understanding as they are from good understanding. And the problem is that most people are normally unaware of how little they do understand. Religion is a great example. So many atheists say they have a good understanding of religion. But they don't. And can't. Knowledge doesn't always mean understanding.

OK, now I think I just opened a much bigger can of worms. So I'll stop here. I don't know what I was trying to say or where I'm going with this. It was just something I felt like writing out of frustration.

And I just scrolled up. And that's a lot to write on something that I admit to having very little understanding about.

I'm big in the Philippines

Apparently so.

As of last night, I've received four Friendster 'friends' requests from teenaged girls in the Philippines.

I don't get it. Is this a joke? Is it a scam? Are they real? What do they want?

I haven't replied to any of them.

And they don't even seem to be friends each other, which makes it even more puzzling.

What am I missing here?

Is this happening to anyone else out there?

I just downloaded the Kooks' album and am listening to it.

This is what I'm doing.

I'm bored. And a little anxious. A little worried.

I have a buzz from just having played basketball. We won. We're just too good for the competition. We win even when we play crap. There's just one team that we reckon can beat us.

I use up a lot of my head space with playing guitar and singing and writing songs. But I'm not sure if I'm wasting my time. And money. And effort.

I don't think I have any discernable social skills left. I can't small talk. I can't chat up girls. I say and do stupid things when I'm drunk.

I think all my friends have left or are leaving. Well... not all...

I think I'm in a bad spot job/career-wise. I'm surrounded by people that I don't do any work for. I'm in the team and I'm not. It's getting awkward. My boss is disorganised.

I think Mean Girls is better than Clueless. The girls are hotter.

That makes me feel old. Everything makes me feel old.

The Kooks have a few good songs but it's not as good as I expected.

That's called disappointment, I think.

Take a bow, Mr Murray

I just witnessed, a few minutes ago, Rafael Nadal beat Andy Murray in 5 sets to move into the quarters of the Australian Open. In the end, Rafa simply bullied Murray with sheer physical strength. Murray just didn't have much left in the tank by the 4th set, while Nadal had that same pit bull look that Mike Tyson used to have when he was just about to knock someone out.

But I'll tell you what, Andy Murray is the guy who will get me excited about tennis again. If tonight was a taste of things to come, he's going to be awesome. Maybe not Federer good, but very very good nonetheless. He's what every tennis purist dreams of. At 19 years of age, he's already a master tactician. He's ridiculously flexible on the court. Not particularly fast, not particularly strong. Not even particularly consistent. And he's shown tonight that he lacks the stamina. But he's a thinker. Uber creative. Yet he's also emotional and expressive.

Not since Pat Rafter and Gustavo Kuerten has anyone gotten me so excited about tennis. The other two never quite made the most of their talents (mostly due to injuries). Let's hope Andy does better.

Introducing... THE IMPRACTICALS!

What happens to the superheroes who got cut from the X-men?

What happens to the ones that Spider-man doesn't wanna be friends with?

What happens to those whose super powers have limited practical applications to fighting crime?!

They've banded together to form...

THE IMPRACTICALS!

Name: The Sweeper
Alter ego: Sweepy Chan

A mild-mannered computer programmer by day, Sweepy Chan becomes The Sweeper by night. With the uncanny ability to locate all the mines in any Minesweeper computer game, The Sweeper almost made the Avengers roster until it was discovered that his powers did not actually work with Mac OS versions of the game.

Name: Heidi Seek

Astronaut Heidi Seek was sent on a scientific mission to Uranus, during which she got caught in a cosmic storm. Upon her return, Heidi discovered that she had gained the power of invisibility - but only when her eyes are closed!

Name: Exchanger
Alter ego: Karen C Ekschange

Not much is known about this former international superspy, except that she has the incredible power to convert all foreign currency to local currency at the touch of her finger. She decided to join the Impracticals since her last gig paid her in Mexican pesos while being based in London.

Name: The Shrink
Alter ego: Mike Smaller

As psychiatrist Mike Smaller was cleaning his attic, he discovered a mysterious box in the corner. When he opened it, he found the Shrink suit! This remarkable suit allows the wearer to shrink by about 4 inches off their normal height, making crime fighting in low-ceilinged spaces just that much easier!

To be continued...

My weekend

It seems to be true that gay guys are crap at ball sports.

On saturday, I was playing captain ball on a team of women in their 40s and 50s, and we managed to beat a team of young (well, around my age) gay guys.

OK, so we did lose to the gay cops team. But considering that one of our team members can't squat and that probably only I could run 100m in under 2 minutes, I think that's saying something.

At this point, you may be wondering where I was that I was playing ball games with middle-aged women and gay cops.

Well, yes. I would wonder too if I were you.

On SundayI had another jam session with Mark and our new drummer friend, Trevor. We're really coming along nicely, I must say. Much better than I had expected, to be honest. We have a song list now of 8 or 9 songs and they're beginning to sound alright. Trevor's drumming really adds so much to our guitars that we no longer sound like two guys playing in our living rooms. I can't say we're 'a band', but there are definitely moments when we sound like one.

One thing I'm trying to do (besides generally becoming a better guitarist) is finding 'my own voice', so to speak. I mean, when Ryan Adams sings Wonderwall, it sounds like Ryan Adams doing his version of Wonderwall. But I feel like when I sing Wonderwall, it sounds like a guy trying to sound like Liam Gallagher, which is a hard habit to break and a bad one to have. I know we're all just starting out, but I guess I'm just thinking out loud.

Speaking of the Gallaghers, sure they might be tossers, but playing their music has made me appreciate more that some of their songwriting are just brilliant. Their melodies and chord progressions are simple but they just work. I mean, the pre chorus of Don't look back in anger is just beautiful, and when the same chords are played underneath the solo, it still sends shivers down my spine no matter how many times I've heard it before.

This music thing has really been a godsend to me and I wish I had started much earlier. There are times when I'm playing and singing (especially with the psuedo-band) when I can genuinely get lost in the moment. I can't say that many other things in life can do that for me. Maybe there is something to that whole 'dance like nobody's watching' saying. I always just assumed it was cliched crap.

I'm loving this because it's something new that I'm learning and it's creative and it's collaborative and sometimes you get that whole 'the sum is greater than the some of its parts' feeling.

My tutor told me that he envies where I'm at right now because I've just cracked the surface of what I can do with the guitar and there's a whole new world under there. Oh, I do hope he's right.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
by Susanna Clarke

Ever wanting to be poetic, I felt that I should buy this book while I was in England, but the exchange rate at the time scared me away and I bought the Stepford Wives at a bargain bin price instead.

But I eventually got around to buying it once I got back to Sydney. I'd heard so much praise for it from my preferred literary circles (geeks and snooty intellectual types - the two rarely agreeing!) and now I've finally finished reading it.

And boy, has it lived up to the hype! It's probably the longest book I have ever read (at about 1000 pages) but it was a breeze to read. And not in a Dan Brown kind of way. Actually, I probably went through it a little too quickly and probably missed some little things along the way. But instantly it climbs up my all-time favourites list!

To summarise, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell is a fantasy of sorts set in England during the Napoleonic Wars. It has been 300+ years since England kinda lost its magical mojo and all that is left of English magic are simply remembered and studied, but never practiced. But this is only until a new magician appears on the scene to revive English magic and bring attention to himself by bringing a girl back from the dead.

And then a second magician appears.

And this is pretty much how it starts.

Yes, it is fantasy. But not Tolkien fantasy. Or even Harry Potter (I must confess that I've never been able to get into the Harry Potter books. I just never found the writing style very agreeable... but that's another story.). This reads more like Jane Austen. In fact it is as much a portrait of the 19th century English idle rich as it is a fantasy novel. The actual magic in the book is bizarre and often clumsy. Like when Mr Strange animates a bunch of sand banks into horses to defeat the French, except that he didn't know how to turn them back into sand banks so they just ran around for a few days and then returned to their sand bank forms, except in really inappropriate places.

Also, the novel is peppered with footnotes that further elaborates on the lore of this version of English history, while at the same time intertwines fiction with real historical figures like Buonaparte, the Duke of Wellington, the mad King George and Lord Byron.

The scope of this novel is just so immense. Its sheer ambitiousness would be praiseworthy enough, except that it actually does what it aims to do. It's a tight story. There won't be moments like in da Vinci Code where you go: 'Why the hell don't they just freeze the damn vinegar and crack the thing open?! It's the bloody 21st century!!!'

I really cannot praise this book enough. I know I'll be spending hours on the internet now looking for stuff to read about it (commentaries, reading guides, etc.). You all really HAVE TO read this book! It's brilliant! It's fantasy, but it's also literary and has oodles of mass market appeal.

If you still won't go and get a copy on my recommendation, then read Amazon's reviews and if that doesn't get you, then eventually the movie (when it's made) will convert you.

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On a separate note, there's a film being made that I'm also really looking forward to. Stardust should be ready sometime this year and this is also based on a (very English) fantasy novel by Neil Gaiman that I love (though on the Jonathan Strange level of love). Read this book too. This one is short.

As usual, I'm happy to lend out my books and... um... OK, I'm going to bed.