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?

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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.