2 of my favourite songs.

Of course by that I mean 2 songs that make me want to sleep with the woman singing them just from the sound of their voices. (it's not complicated)

1. The Sundays Here's where the story ends

2. Angie Hart - Careless. A Paul Kelly cover from the album "The women at the well". Sadly I can't find a link to this one, so I've posted Angie's picture instead :-(

Both breathtakingly beautiful voices.

Aural aphrodisiacs

A Pro Wrestling Revelation

I was watching the "Professional Wrestling" yesterday with the boys when I began to feel uneasy. I was listening to the contrived dialogue between the two protagonists, who were overblown stereotypes with no acting ability or redeeming features other than their bodies, all the while knowing that sooner or later they would be grappling, trying to show off as many different positions as possible, before one or both of them was laid flat out on their back.

Then it hit me.

Pro Wrestling is porn for people who prefer violence to sex.

Surely not, you say? Then consider this.

It follows the same formula (the setup, the tease, the action and then, finally, the climax), and surrounds itself with implausible story lines so people with ridiculously proportioned bodies can strip down and roll around together in the name of entertainment.

And, as I tightly gripped the remote, I realised I was watching it one-handed.

Scary

I guess when you get to my age you would expect that health issues would not come as a surprise. In fact, I find the opposite is true. Maybe each day we get by unscathed just strengthens our sense of invulnerability.

That is, of course,until someone close to you has a health scare. A very good friend of mine recently suffered a severe asthma attack and had to be resuscitated and put into an induced coma last week. More than the threat to his physical health (that sense of invulnerability is very strong) I worried about his state of mind. This guy, growing up, was one of the most loving and giving people I knew. His family was an inspiration to me, and I believe that he and his family came in to my life to show me that side of myself, how to give and love unconditionally. Unfortunately, as they grew older, disillusionment and a little bitterness took hold. He still gave with his heart, unquestioningly, but I think he became frustrated when people did not reciprocate.

Skip forward to a month ago. A new job in a caring profession had a new spring in his step. Things were falling into place for him and a conversation I had with him 2 weeks ago had me singing the praises of his new outlook on life.

Then the health scare.

I visited him in hospital yesterday and he is, if possible, even more positive than the last time I saw him. It was like he had accepted that he is loved and cared for. That he has learned that love is not necessarily a "back and forth" thing, that the love he has been giving out has always come back to him, just not always from the direction he expected.

He told me that the doctor said to him that instead of his life beginning at 40, his had very nearly ended. After seeing him yesterday, I choose to believe that his new life has truly started.

Go with it, my brother, you'll never walk alone.

Is it worth it?

"War grows out of the desire of the individual to gain advantage at the expense of his fellow man
Napoleon Hill


How can I explain to my sons the difference between strength and aggression? How can I explain to them the line between defending one's self and exploitation, when I'm not sure of it myself.

I sometimes wonder if my leftist, pacifist leanings lead to me being "taken advantage of", but when I consider the alternative, I hope so. How can you give freely of yourself, then complain when someone accepts? Conversely, why would you "take" from others something not offered? We can see where that leads in just about any newspaper on any day. If anyone reads this, try for this week to offer freely of yourself and to accept what is offered to you and nothing more.

All nighter

It may be an off shoot of my white line fever, but part of the pleasure I gained from yesterday's start to the Ashes Series is the thought of English people missing out on sleep so they can watch their team disappoint them again. The pain of their 2005 taunts is beginning to fade.

Not that I'm bitter or anything ;-)

It definitely (finally) on

The wait and the hype have been unbearable, but finally it is here. And things are going our way. After the first hour listening to the commentary from Smee's phone it sounds like the status quo has been restored. England opted to play Giles ahead of "the best finger spinner in the world" (Duncan Fletcher's words, not mine), we won the toss and batted and Steve Harmison was all over the shop. Was it an omen that the first ball in the series was an English wide? Langer batted like he was thinking "Phil who?". Captain Hercules bowled 2 no-balls in his first over. Once again, Hoggard looked like the only Pom that can bowl.

I love cricket. For the moment, anyway

Sing with me now

(To the tune of Chirp a chirp a cheep cheep)

Where's Trescothick gone?

Where's Trescothick gone?

He's a whinging pom
He's a whinging pom

He's run away
He's run away


Damn Barmy Army

White line fever.

This is a completely new entry to replace the whiny,self pitying piece of crap that was previously here.

I suffer from white line fever. Actually, if I indulge in any sort of competition, I am prepared to do anything short of kill someone (well, depending on whom it is) to win. I have almost no control over my temper when I think (and here is the vital piece of information) that someone is ENJOYING BEATING ME. For me, this is a completely unacceptable frame of mind for any of my opponents to have. I don't mind being beaten by people who don't enjoy it or I don't see as a threat, but god forbid they show any pleasure or even any desire to win when competing against me. A classic example from the weekend. I was playing cricket, bowling in fact, and the batsmen tapped the ball to short mid wicket and took off for a single. I took off after the ball and even though I knew there was no hope of running him I threw the ball. The ball went wide of the keeper and the batsmen ran three overthrows. The reason the ball went wide was because somewhere in my brain, one of the remaining sane synapses saw clearly my atavistic desire to hurl it in to the back of the scurrying batsman and decided to tell my right arm that it didn't want any part of it.

To make matters worse, shortly afterwards at Tea, all the batsman kept talking about was the additional 3 runs they'd scored and how they would contribute to their run chase.

Happy ending after all, within 2 overs of the resumption of play, the same guy spooned a little leading edge off my bowling. Normally I would have jogged on or two steps forward and watched with a wry smile as the ball bounced short of me. Not today. Not THIS batsman. I sprinted down the pitch and hurled my less than athletic frame lengthways down the carpet and concrete strip with no other thought than "Get this bastard out!" I managed to keep the ball from hitting the deck with two fingers and the thumb of my right hand, at the cost of some bruised and scraped ribs, but at the time it was worth it!!

Now I'm not so sure.

I really think this summer's Ashes tour is going to be a test for my tolerance and patience.

Update: This made me feel better though

The worst sin toward our fellow creatures is not to hate them, but to be indifferent to them: that's the essence of inhumanity: George Bernard Shaw

After listening to Woodie and Mils bang on...

....I found this quote appropriate.


The feeling of patriotism - It is an immoral feeling because, instead of confessing himself a son of God . . . or even a free man guided by his own reason, each man under the influence of patriotism confesses himself the son of his fatherland and the slave of his government, and commits actions contrary to his reason and conscience." : Leo Tolstoy, Patriotism and Government

There ain't 'arf bin some clever bastards

I mean really clever. Time has announced its inventions of the year. "YouTube", while not immediately world changing, has given us true freedom of information (this is not a comment on the veracity of that information) and made good the promise of the internet. For a while. Better get in quick, as Google has bought it.

Have a look through some of the other inventions. I was particularly impressed with the Tesla car and the bike riding robot. If you have a few minutes, have look and wonder at human ingenuity.

Melbourne Cup Day

I have never been a fan of horse racing, not even the Melbourne Cup, though usually I do have the day off and get trashed at the local race track, but that has more to do with the company than the actual entertainment.

I was intrigued earlier this week by calls for Melbourne Cup day to become a public holiday in states other than Victoria.

Now, I like a bludge as much as the next person, but I believe this would be a mistake. For me, the beauty of having Cup day off is that there are still people all over the city working. It gives me a thrill of slightly illicit pleasure to think I am out carousing while government buildings, offices and schools through out the metropolitan area are filled with people crowded around radios and wheeling in televisions to watch the race. Or if I am at work myself, one of the huddlers, it gives me a sense of community with my co-workers to take the time to watch the race. Frankly, I think the sense of sharing is what makes it special for those still at work. Otherwise, it's just a horse race.

Who won?

Mondays

I think "weekday" and "weekend" are not enough choices when it comes to days. Especially when your weekend consists of 2 nights drinking, 1 and a bit nights sleeping, an engagement party, 1/2 day playing cricket, 1/2 day umpiring/coaching and 2 x 1/2 days watching your children play cricket. Oh, and a couple of hours sleeping on the couch trying to stay awake to watch Australia play cricket.

Summer hasn't even started.

Carn 'straya

Vale Wally

Wally Foreman, along with Dennis Cometti, was always one of my favourite commentators growing up, probably because they were Western Australians. I always thought Wally was passionate about his sport but not to the degree where he lost objectivity or even handed-ness. I only ever met him once, as an opposition coach in junior cricket, but even in that forum he impressed me with his attitude to the game. Sport in Western Australia and Australia for that matter will be sadly poorer for his passing.

Get on the green

No, that's not what I mean at all! I was thinking something more along the lines of this:


Get on the Green is a drive by bowls clubs to attract people to bowls. My regular Wednesday nights have moved from the shed to the Innaloo Sportsmans Club for our annual foray into community bowls. Any sport that marks it's rinks with ashtrays at each end and has a beautiful young woman walking around with a wheeled esky selling cheap beer gets a big tick from me.

Oops....

Methinks the Kazakhs do protest too much....

Equality in sport

I found this interesting story while trawling the internet for cricket related news. It seems an "Old Boy" has taken offence at his school selecting a girl (Ian Healy's 16 yo niece) in their First XI.

Personally I cannot understand how someone could take offence at such a thing. How insecure would you have to be to wish the girl anything other than success? I have always sort of hoped that sport would be truly unisex (and not only so I don't have to watch women's sport). I love the fact that on the field, you are either one of the "goodies" or the "baddies". No in between, no shades of grey. I don't care where you were born, where you live or what you do for a job. And I see no difference between men and women (other than the good ones) on the sporting fields. Sport, more than most other avenues, offers the opportunity for equality. Everyone wears the same uniform and everyone gets the same chance.


If you're good enough.

Minimum Wage Rise

Try as I might, I keep finding reasons NOT to like the current Liberal government. All politicians really. They (and apparently most of the voting Australians) have no idea what government is supposed to be about. This weeks decision by the Fair Pay commission to award a $27 a week wage rise to the minimum wage earners should have been a chance for the goverment to bask in the glow of a job well done. Instead, all I have is this image of John Howard and Kevin Andrews grinning smugly, not because the people they represent have more money in their pocket, but because they think that it will piss the unions off.

Andrews was quoted as saying "The only people disappointed about this decision are Kim Beazley, (Labor's IR spokesman) Stephen Smith and the ACTU who have been running around Australia saying this decision would reduce wages for Australians"

John Howard is no better "It must have been a very bad day for Mr Combet (ACTU secretary) today, a very bad day indeed"

To me, it lays bare the greed and desire to cling to power inherent in the personality of these men, that they would expect a man who's goal it is to represent workers to be disappointed that the Fair Pay commission grants Fair pay those very workers because it may somehow weaken his political standing. This is not a fucking game, people. To those workers, that $27 represents a lot more than a chance to thumb their nose at a political opponent.

If anyone out there does read this, please know that these people do not represent me.

Random meme

1. List two things that are true of you that are not stereotypically true of members of some group that you belong to.
a) Married with children
b) My eyebrow is pierced


2. List two unusual talents that you have.
a) I remember phone numbers and birthdays
b) I have a knack for finding other peoples lost stuff


3. List two unusual weaknesses that you have.
a) Crap television (Neighbours, Australian Idol)
b) I hate going to sleep but I hate getting up (call me Mr Inertia)

4. List two unusual things that you aspire to.
a) Record and play my own music
b) Tall Children

5. List two words that you use more than most people do.
a) cunt
b) archetypal

6. List two foods that you dislike and most other people like.
a) all seafood
b) tomatoes

7. List two strange habits that you have.
a) blogging
b) filling out these questionnaires



Found it here

YAAAHHOOOOO!!!!!

Beginning December 1st, Western Australia goes on to Daylight saving time. For three years!! Then of course all the nay-sayers will have their chance to screw up summer again. But for the next 3 years.........

Sweet.

Working with Witches

After what was a pretty messed up weekend for me, with moments of mind blowing clarity interspersed with mind numbing (but ultimately affirming, thank you) lunacy, I have finally started to get my head back together.

Until late yesterday.

My current role requires me to present data from on of our systems in an on line report. I discovered a slight design imperfection in one of the reports that meant it reported some items as overdue that may not have been. As I am fairly new to this role and keen to impress (and my boss asked me to) I repaired it.

Mistake.

Instead of the majority of items reporting overdue, now only the ones that were actually overdue showed up.

My phone rings.

"What's wrong with the report!?" says The Wicked Witch of The East.

"Nothing, why?" say I, playing the innocent (actually I forgot I had made the change, inconsequential as it was).

"All the things that were overdue yesterday are not overdue anymore"

"Oh, yes, that's right, I noticed that anomaly yesterday and repaired it for you" (yay me)

"What does overdue mean?" asks TWWOTE

(This really freaked me out. My job entails taking pieces of data and applying rules to them, often with no idea what they mean. But I'm not about to admit that to her as she has a history of antipathy to my group. So I attempted to explain)

"Well, if this date is earlier than today and the item is not finalised then it appears as overdue. If however this other date is before today and this third date is blank, then that can also be overdue"

{silence}

"Umm, does that make sense" I ask, not without trepidation.

"Not a bit"

After three or four more attempts at explaining she adds,

"I shouldn't even be ringing you you know, we're supposed to loge every problem we have with you guys" (What problem? That the report WORKS!?)

"Yes I know that and getting this report fixed and delivered to you guys has been my raison d'etre for the past month", I plead.

"You should have been working on it for the last 6 months!!" as her voice and my hackles raise at about the same rate.

I've only been working here for 5 months. The conversation then chased itself in circles with me making placating noises and her raising complaint after complaint.

The upshot of it all was that I spent 15 minutes on a telephone call brought about by delivering a 100% correct report.

I've worked with people like the Wicked Witch before. Work is War. Everyone is out to get you. Make no more effort than is absolutely required, that way you can save your energy to whinge and complain and undermine those you perceive as a threat. To me that is an incredibly unhappy way to work, especially as we are all working for the same company. Now my work is unpleasant and further impeded by red tape.

But that's ok, it's Wednesday.

Music and Emotion

Sitting at my desk with my headphones on I am amazed at the range of (and the rapidity of the change in) emotion I allow to be invoked by music. Not 5 minutes ago I was almost in tears listening to "Adam's Song" now I'm bopping along to "This Charming Man" by The Smiths, and dancing at my desk to "Wishing" by A Flock of Seagulls.

That's all.

Random musing

Just a quick note this morning. I woke up from one of those vivid dreams that follow you in to the waking world. It was highly emotive and left me feeling a little bit down which usually leads to me over-thinking things. This was no exception. It raised the following question:

If, as the Bible states, "As a man thinks, so shall he be" and sins of the mind are as bad as sins of the flesh (e.g. the commandment "Thou shall not covet thy neighbour's wife"), do Catholics have to confess and do penance for their dreams?

Good news

Apparently poverty in Pakistan has been taken care of, the Israelis have handed back Palestine and the world is at peace. It must be so, otherwise, surely, these fuck-knuckles would have better things to do than burn pictures and effigies of a cricket umpire.

Re-editing history

I really didn't know how to take this story when I read it this morning. The licensee for the Tom and Jerry cartoons in Britain has agreed to cut scenes that glamorize smoking. Initially it was “You’ve got to be kidding!! Who watches Tom and Jerry cartoons??” Then I thought about the message the cartoon in general was sending out. Violence is ok, but smoking is not?? It has become a bit of a trend (especially in the UK) recently to “politically correct” old forms of entertainment. Enid Blyton just had a going over with a whole raft of characters from “The Magic Faraway Tree” being renamed to “bring them in line with modern values”. And of course who can forget the homosexual/racism scandal caused by Noddy and Big Ears.

I get where these people are coming from, but I hope that original copies of all this work is being kept somewhere to preserve our history. To me it is a bit like removing depictions of endangered animals from cave paintings. Sure we don’t want to encourage the behaviour depicted, but does that mean we should forget it?

Mind Bomb

Prophetic Vision?

It's funny how things sit in the back of your mind, hidden from conscious view until a spark or a trigger brings them flooding back. In this case, the "thing" is Matt Johnson and "The The" and the trigger was a really interesting woman I met at a party on Saturday night named Mary. We were talking music and got to "The The". Her favourite album is Mind Bomb and she recommended I give it another listen in light of current political affairs. I have and now am recommending that anyone reading this does the same. Matt Johnson was either extremely paranoid or a visionary. The album starts with a muezzin calling the faithful to prayer and continues to examine the themes of religion and politics, love and lust, light and dark without trying to provide pat answers.

Islam is rising
The christians mobilising
The world is on it's elbows and knees
It's forgotten the message and worships the creeds.
It's war, she cried, It's war, she cried, This is war...
If the real Jesus Christ were to stand up today
He'd be gunned down cold by the CIA..."

It's hard to imagine that these words were written over a decade ago.

Religious Junkies

Have you ever noticed that reformed alcoholics and drug addicts are the most fervent in their preaching and condemnation of sin? Have you ever wondered why? I know I have and today I figured it out (well in my mind anyway, you, as always, are quite welcome to think what you like). I used to think that because they had seen the darkness they were all the more protective of the light, but its not. They often think their life has undergone a magnificent transformation. It hasn't. Their situation may have changed, but they still haven't rid them selves of the problem of addiction.

They've just become addicted to God.

They throw themselves into religion with the same need they had for drugs/alcohol/sex but with the added bonus of not having to lie about it. They become 'pushers', getting their fix from spreading the word to others. Not for them is the silent contemplative life, No, GOD himself has charged them with enlightening the whole planet.

Stil, they are marginally less offensive now Jesus is their fix, but they maintain the balance with hypocisy.

Political Correctness Hypocrisy

Case 1
I read an article about ex-Australian cricketer and now commentator Dean Jones being sacked for calling South African batsman Hashim Amla a "terrorist".
Case 2
"The West Australian". Friday 4th August 2006.
The "editorial cartoon" was making comment on McDonalds hiring workers from the Phillipines to fill skilled management roles in their stores in Western Australia's North West. The left panel of the cartoon had McDonalds products and the caption “McDonalds Happy Meal”. The right hand frame had an obviously Asian person serving a non-Asian at the counter with a speech bubble saying “You rike flies with that?”
The customer had a speech bubble “Wot?” The caption is something along the lines of “McSkilled workers”.

The first case struck me as a tremendously thoughtless thing for Jones to do in this day and age. Therein is the key to my complaint today. "In this day and age". In the current political climate "terrorist" and "Muslim" have become linked. Jones' off the cuff comment was ill-thought and he can hardly be surprised that people took offence and that it made the news.

The West Australian'ss little anachronism, however, has passed un-commented. Is this because the PC brigade can only be sensitive to on stereotype at a time. Or have I completely mis-read the situation? Is the 1970's depiction of Asians as buck-toothed semi-literates once more acceptable?
What is the difference between these two instances? Is it that terrorists are dangerous and Charlie Chan is a harmless buffoon? Or is it the audience? I can't believe that there are no people in Perth (other than me) that took offence.

Velly solly Mr Arston, you a sirry iriot and me no crapping.

AAAAARRRGGGHHHH!! (A dummy spit)

I really cannot handle bullshit that passes itself off as "news" or "information". What tipped me over the edge was an online poll on ninemsn today. “Do you think Shane Warne is a great Australian?” For a start, what defines a great Australian?? I looked at it and dismissed it as a harmless piece of frippery designed to make the “New Idea” crowd feel as if they are part of “the Internet”. No-one could possibly take it seriously. Could they??

Obviously ninemsn staff do. This is from an "article" on ninemsn (byline ninemsn staff)

“It seems Barry is not the only one critical of Warne with a new poll showing 69 percent of Australians don't believe Warne is a great Australian.”

Do they get fucking monkeys to write this shit? What does it even mean?? Shane Warne is a cricketer, a great one, and he is Australian but the only people who could possibly equate that to meaning Shane Warne is a great Australian is a fool. How can these people be given (what I assume are) paying jobs to dole this rubbish out? You wouldn’t let them play with sharp instruments, why let them near a pc with an internet connection.

A fool with a tool is still a fool

Tipping

I was tended to by the best wait staff I have ever encountered last night at the Greenwood Hotel. Not only friendly, but knowledgeable, and seemingly eager to please. After the meal, I was faced with a dilemma.

Should I leave a tip?

The wait staff definitely provided excellent service, but personally, I am against the practise of tipping. Where would I draw the line? The meal itself was excellent, so should I fire a couple of bucks in the direction of the kitchen and let them divide it amongst themselves based on their contribution to our meals? In the end, I rationalised it this way; As the hotel itself would be the main beneficiary of having such commendable staff, IMHO, it is their duty to compensate them commensurately. My primary transaction was with the hotel, and the staff there are all part of the infrastructure required to run the business smoothly. The better the staff the more smoothly the business runs, and vice versa. I have never been compensated directly by a client of any of my employers for developing a useful computer application, but have made myself valuable to employers for doing so. So it should be with hospitality and service staff. I would hate to see Australia go the way of many American service industries, with the employers paying minimum wages and the service providers relying on the often fickle public for payment.

Tipping, from my point of view, is primarily to ensure good service, not to reward it. It makes more sense to provide an incentive before hand.

So, as you may have guessed, we didn't leave a tip (sorry Diane and Alexia), but made sure the hotel management were aware of the excellent job done by their employees.

Moral equivalence?

What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty and democracy? - Gandhi

Thanks for coming.

Sunday 9th July 2006 saw the end of an era for me. My beloved grandfather, Otway Leonard Rankin passed away 2 months short of his 100th birthday. The last time I saw him he’d had a bit of a fall in the morning. My Nanna asked him where he’d fallen. Immediately he fired back “Down!, Where else am I going to go?” then proceeded to chuckle at his own joke.

Even more disconcerting than seeing the traits you have passed on to your children is seeing where they come from.

Rest in Peace, Pop

Information Clearing House

In my quest for political education I came across the the above website. I have also added links to their most recent headlines in the sidebar. Conservatives beware, definitely only for the pink at heart, so don't click if you are not prepared to question.

Definately....

Why has this particular spelling become so popular? I understand that language is a living, growing thing, but with most spelling errors, at least you can see some phonetic root to it ('loose' instead of 'lose' for example) but who says "definATEly"??
I used to be a bit of a language/spelling snob, but accepted that language will evolve. I'd just like it to evolve practically.

And not piss me off

The Con Man......

....and the Dupe








The cause of Association Football lost a lot of ground last night with Australia's 1-0 loss to Italy last night in the Round of 16 World cup clash. Not because Australia lost, Australian crowds are not that fickle. It was the manner of the loss that will do the damage.

Fabio Grosso is a coward and a cheat. Pure and simple. In the dying seconds of the game, he used his unquestioned skills as a footballer to beat Marcus Bresciano on the left and force Lucas Neill into an early slide, and then, instead of stepping to his right around Neill's prostrate form and shooting on goal, spoiled it by jagging left and using his questionable skills as an actor and acrobat to dive onto the ground. Referee Luis Medina Cantalejo, like a 12 year old at his first circus, was completely taken in and pointed to the penalty spot, effectively robbing the Socceroos of the game.

Watching the under 11's playing on the weekend, talking to a past player from Stirling and he said to me "It's such an honest game at this age"
Sadly, Fabio Grosso showed us how the game can be manipulated, and why Australia has been so reticent to embrace it.

My game is fair play. It's just not soccer.

Free Personality test

Have a computer tell you about yourself. Find god through MS Paint.

I did.

Dreams

Last night I had one of those dreams that stay with you through the day. I dreamt of a friend of mine that I haven't seen in a long time. We were in a seaside "shack" community, I was feeling lonely and she appeared and we explored and chatted.
Now I've been missing her all day, and I wonder what that means.

Mid-winters Day

The shortest day of the year

Not my favourite time of the year. While the days have been glorious here (it has only rained twice in the last month) this time of the year always has a slightly depressing effect on me. Coming off birthday celebrations, and with nary a long weekend in sight until September, it seems as though there is very little to look forward to. I say seems, because this is obviously untrue, but on the respective timeline scale, the excitement cupboard is a little bare.

I am feeling insignificant at the moment, which doesn't help my outlook. I strive to be even handed, to not over react to emotional stimuli, which I like to thik I achieve most of the time. Unfortunately, it also means that people are less wary of pissing you off, and when they do the prevailing attitude seems to be "oh well".

I have a recurring nightmare that I don't really exist. I wake up convinced that I am not real, and it scares the crap out of me. Days like yesterday don't help.

MIA

Actually missing in study, on a training course. I am really not a good student, I think it's down to impatience. Sitting in an over-warm room listening to people ask questions that I either know the answers to or don't care is a hard way to spend two weeks. I am learning, but I think I (and the company) would be better served doing it at my own pace.

Boo hoo

The answer to life, the universe and everything

The last long weekend, until the end of September, has finished. The Foundation Day weekend is a favourite of mine because it falls on or around my birthday! This year's was excellent. I started Friday night with Stormie and Woodie in the shed. Darts and cards and talking bullshit kept us occupied until the clocked ticked midnight and my birthday officially started. Then of course we had to celebrate, so it was nearly 2 by the time I crawled in to bed. Saturday was spent lazing around my house, my favourite past-time, with my favourite people, watching my favourite footy team (Go West Coast!) come back from 54 points down to snatch a 3 point victory from the Cats. Then down the road to Macedonia Park to watch a 9-1 cup match and sink a few more beers with Woodie. Home for dinner (HJ's, my choice),an hour and a half phone call from Face and Ang and a visit from me Mum. Just when I thought I'd had the perfect birthday, I decided I'd try to stick it out until midnight, flicked it over to rage and sat until 12:30 watching "The Sex Pistols" and "The Saints".

Sunday, back down to Macies to watch the 13's play, then off to Freo to catch up with the "crew" (sans Woodie, oddly). The photo (We're thinking of saving it for an album cover :-) shows Ned (Fatness, Mark),me , G (Stormie, Norm) and Snake (Jake, Greg). All with their respective spouses and children were there as well as Crystal and Woz and their boys. We'd booked in to an apartment, so all back to ours for pizza and wine. I fell asleep watching the Socceroos and Netherlands draw.

Up early this a.m. Fast Eddy's for breakfast (nice, but glad I didn;t see the kitchen or the toilet until after I'd eaten, spent some of my birthday money on a new harmonica then home for more lazing.

I love Foundation Day

What a difference a day makes

It’s all about perspective.


Teenaged boys no longer appear to me to be gangly, pimply, smelly, testosterone-fuelled eating machines. Today they are angelic creatures imbued with the essence of all that is good in the universe, bravely picking their way through the danger filled maze of puberty.

Why?

My big boy is 13 now. I am the father of a teenager. I can still remember, clearly, talking about having babies with my bride 14 years ago. I remember thinking “Babies are all well and good, but who can love a 10 year old boy? How am I going to love a teenager!”

Now, of course, I know the answers are “Me” and “With all that I am”.

Woodie was talking about having babies the other night, and he said to us “I don’t believe that I will love a child of my own more than I already love my nieces and nephews, or my family and friends.” I let it go. It’s not something you can explain to the childless. It would be like trying to explain music to the profoundly deaf, or colour to someone blind from birth.

Parenthood is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is the most rewarding thing I have ever done and the thing of which I am most proud. Our two boys, just by being here, have made our world a better place, and us better people.

And now I can add teenaged boys to the list creatures that I love.

Happy Birthday Sis

May 19 1966.
The day my little sister was born. I can't imagine how awful my childhood would have been without her, though I'm sure a lot of her memories are of me torturing her and generally causing her grief. Even though I know we didn't have a great relationship until I was 18 or so, there are very few happy memories I have of my childhood that don't include her.

There are many unhappy memories that revolve around her, but in most of those I am the bad guy. I always felt as if I failed her as a big brother because I didn't or couldn't protect her. As it turns out, she has never needed my protection and is now one of the strongest and strongest-willed people that I know.

I remember one day in primary school, walking home with friends teasing her all the way home. I could tell something was wrong, just from her reaction, but instead of coming to her defense I ran with the sheep and kept it up. It wasn't until I got home that she told me he best friend (Wendy I think) had been killed in a car accident that weekend. I'm not sure if she even remembers the incident but it had a defining effect on my life. It was the beginning of my realisation that, regardless of what others think or say, my moral compass is inside myself. I often worry that my two boys will one day have similar regrets about the way they treat each other, and I tell them that no-one in this world is as much like them as a sibling.


Not only is a sibling the closest genetic match, but they share an upbringing and a lifestyle. Either way, Nature or Nurture, they share a great deal of what defines you.

Thanks sis, for making the last 40 years so interesting. I love you.

Beneath the Southern Cross

I have been considering the politics of Australia recently, or more to the point, the culture of the people. It started around ANZAC Day and has stuck with me, primarily because I have been unable to pinpoint where it all started to unravel for me. Growing up I always thought we were a nation built on the "fair go" principle. Before "A Current Affair" turned the word "battler" from a mark of respect for someone who was poor, but hard-working, to a epithet for toothless, fat bogans in leggings with 6 kids from 4 fathers, bleating that the government should pay them more to shoe their children, but somehow managing to find cash for the carton of cigarettes and slab of beer each week. When did we get so lazy? Was it the fault of faux Labor in the '80's? Of WA Inc? Was that when I lost faith? A true Believer with nothing left to believe in? I would hate this flag to become nothing more than a symbol of greed flown over building sites around the city.

Where am I going now?

I think I’m having “abandonment issues”. Next week, my little sister is taking her family to Bali for her 40th birthday, Friday night G took off for Sydney, mi amica bella, leaves for Broome on Sunday for her 30th birthday and Crystal and Anne head off next week for Melbourne. And me? Where am I going? I don't know, but I’m wondering why there's a hand-basket in my driveway.

Time is precious.....

....if you don't believe me, next time you are on the front rank at the traffic lights during peak hour, sit back, put your hands on your head and count to 10

Here we go again.....

...with the ugliness
I am beginning (again) to question my involvement with soccer/football. Not because of the game itself, I get an honest pleasure from watching the game, but from the people it attracts. I know, I am aware of the incongruity in saying I'm attracted to the game and then in the next breath raisng concerns about the people it attracts, but I think that may be part of my concern. What if I am one of "them" or become one?
It all started Saturday, I took my boys to watch the local side play. It was a good game, a bit one-sided, but we wasted a number of opportunities. Then with 5 minutes to go, with the score at 1-0, the referee gave a bewildering free kick to the away side from which they levelled the score. Someone has then thrown a water bottle on to the pitch, not smart or acceptable behaviour. What I really found offensive about the incident though was the away sides assistant coach grappling with and shoving one of the club officials, whose job it is to keep the spectators from the ground. What was he thinking? Not exactly the type of behaviour likely to calm the situation. Thankfully calmer heads prevailed and the spectators settled to watch what was eventually a disappointing draw.

This however was only the prelude.

Sunday morning both boys played at the same ground, (the younger at 8:00 am , thank you very much!). It was the start of the season for the under 11's and resulted in a disappointing 2-1 loss, but we showed some promise for a side that hasn't played much football together. My older son's team was playing their 4th game, having drawn 1 (2-2) and lost 2 (3-4) and (4-5). I should point out that the coach's son plays for us (let's pretend he wears number 10), providing the perfect focus for the back-biters, whingers and belly-achers. With every loss the grumblings get louder, but as yet, no-one has spoken to the coach directly with their concerns, just to anybody within hearing that will listen. During the week we lost 2 of our back 4 to injury, making this week's clash with the top side just a bit more difficult. We started really well having all the possession and creating all the chances, but we failed to capitalise and against the run of play the opposition scored, 1-nil at half time. After the half-time break we faded badly and were soon 4-0 down. The coach was rotating the changes through the bench, and had called for a substitution when one of the mothers from our side (I really hate using the word "our" there, but "win as a team, lose as a team") screamed out


"Why don't you take number 10 off!!"

This sort of behaviour disgusts me, and disgust is not something I admit to often. The sheer cowardice of this semi-anonymous snipe (though no longer anonymous to the coach) fills me with contempt for people too weak to deal with their perceived problems directly. The most hurtful thing is that the boy's mother was sitting 2 rows in front of the offender. At least the back-biters and whisperers are nearly discreet enough that they don't cause pain to the coach's family.


This is junior sport, under 13's to be exact. If you are not happy, or more importantly, if your child is not happy, speak to your coach, face to face, like a grown up. If you can't do that, then just fuck off.

More Beth

....please

Go on, I asked nicely. I saw her Sunday night, and she was amazing. Right down to her pseudo-timidity when speaking to the audience, she was fabulous. As a fan of her lastest album, "Comfort of Strangers", my tastes were well and truly catered to, with just about every track getting an airing(I can't actually think of one she missed). Of course, this meant less time for her older stuff, with "This one's gonna bruise" and "It's not the spotlight" sadly missing. I loved it when it was just Beth and the guitar on stage, nothing to interfere with her voice. I could make believe it was just the two of us there. I was 4 rows back, dead centre, and it felt like she sang every song to me. Stand outs for me were "Heart of Soul", "A Place Aside", "Shadow of a doubt" and "Stars all seem to weep".

Interestingly, the 2 centre seats in the front row were empty. It made me wonder about the lyrics to "A Place Aside" and whether the seats were the place.

A Place Aside

I do still sometimes put my hand across
And I feel as yours gets placed on top
We drive along these empty streets
Same old ones they've always been

I can still hear your heartbeat in the dark
We're still setting up the same old sparks
Pull me close and we lay still
Wrap my toes around your heel

And we're talking as I write this song
Unfolding as we go along
And I suppose we really do
I suppose it must be true
There will always be a place aside
For you...

I do still sometimes stare into your gaze
The way we'd stay for days and days
‘skuze me but this seat is taken
They've been a while but I'm still waiting

And if I light these matches just to watch ‘em burn
And I forget to keep myself warm
And I forgot how to sing my song
Then I suppose I really do
I suppose it must be true
But there will always be a place aside
For you

On my way to work this morning

The Commodore slowed, as the line of cars concertinaed at the red light, tensing, ready to spring forward at the first hint of green. The passenger door opened and he alighted, picking his way through the waiting vehicles, across the road, eyes only for the footpath. She watched him from the driver’s seat, never taking her gaze from his back, waiting for the chance to wave a final farewell should he favour her with a backward glance, hoping for one more glimpse, a last chance to meet his eye.

Incongruous

My word of the week
Incongruity in my lifestyle is (I believe) the cause of all the stress in my life. Those of you that know me will be thinking "what stress?", but it's true. The key to happiness is the ability to be totally honest. Unfortunately, that's not always an option. People don't want to hear complete honesty, so we prevaricate. We twist what we feel and think, mould it into something not quite true, to something that we perceive others will find more palatable. Even when we know it harms us. Bizarre as it sounds, it's actually often springs from love, an effort not too offend or upset.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Beth Orton loves me...

I can hear it in her voice when she sings to me

Constants

I have a lot of trouble being consistent. Not so much in my behaviour (I am extremely predictable) but in my emotions. I have absolutely no problem switching sides mid-argument. What I believe and what I feel, I believe and feel 100% and I often let that drive me. That doesn't mean that I blurt out everything I am feeling or thinking, in fact just the opposite occurs. If I am in conflict about something, and by conflict I mean aware that my emotions are inappropriate or unsympathetic or possibly destructive, I am unable to fill the gap with incongruous small talk.

Blues and rooted

Wow.What a fantastic day. The West Coast blues and roots festival was this weekend, down on the Esplanade at Freo. While not many of the "headline" acts could be really labelled Blues and Roots, there was enough talent on show to forgive the organiser's for sneaking them in. I'll start at the start. We arrived at around 1:30 or so, hooked up with Shar-Lee, just missed Blue King Brown, but caught the end of Carus and the True Believers while organiseing beer tickets etc. Didn't really listen to them enough to do them justice, but I remember loving them from 2005. Jump back to the big top to listen to Josh Pyke and hook up with Damo, Lu and 'relle. I insisted that they all join me back at the Harbour Stage to see The Beautiful Girls (who incidentally are not girls, as Lu found out). They were fantastic and expanded their fan base by at least the five people I was with. Mia Dobson was next up in the Big Top. She has a voice I found similar to Melissa Etheridge, but not any where near as angry. Then came, for me, the surprise package of the day Jamie Cullum (and I don't just mean surprise as in he wasn't black or bald as I'd pictured him). He seriously rocked the crowd, just by playing good music and loving it. Even his version of Jeff Buckley's "Lover, you should have come over", which quite frankly appalled me when I first heard it, last year, struck a chord. Then he switched to playing a drum with a carnivale beat and the atmosphere just peaked. I didn't think he was ever going to leave the stage, or that the crowd would let him.

The weekend

Thank God it's Friday






I found the picture alongside this entry somewhere among my trawling of the web (no idea where) and it appealed to me. I thought "yeah, it's Friday, write an entry about the weekend". Then I looked at it again and realised it really didn't represent my current attitude to work at all. I am in the rare position of actually loving my job at the moment. My lovely bride is always having a go at me because when ever any body asks how my new job is (I've been here for about 6 weeks) my response is usually a non-committal sort or shrug accompanied by "Yeah, it's OK"
This is not through any lack of interest in my job ON MY PART, but a knowledge that the user (oops, Freudian slip),I mean, person asking the question, really doesn't want to hear anything about my job, but may be interested in my reaction to it. I work in engineering now, and do support work and development for computer software, so all the things that I find so endearing and interesting in my job would bore anyone else outside the game shipless. Rather than extend the conversation to a point where eyes begin to glaze over ("It's really cool, I was doing this thing this week with SQL that allows users to parameterise the other parameters in the report" See?) , I take the non-committal option and kill the conversation in it's tracks. It also gives the bride an opportunity to wrest the conversation back and do my boasting for me.
So, back to my original point, the weekend is no longer just a cessation of work for me, it is an opportunity to do fun things that are not work.

I think that's pretty cool.

Boring....

...but i won't let that stop me.
I am amazed by the blogs I turn up just by hitting the next blog button on the title bar. From disillusioned teenagers to middle age christians, it seems like everyone has an opinion about something, and is more than happy to share it. In the face of the overwhelming number of opinions, I have found it hard to motivate myself to keep this updated, but then I thought "What the hell". I really like to write and I really like to make my opinion known and this combines the two. It also appeals to me (or my vanity) that someone may read one of my entries and re-think an issue that's been bothering them. So, boring or not, I'll keep at it.

"You should be the change you want to see in the world" - Mohandas Gandhi

Seconds again

That's cricket
Literally. Cricket has officially finished for 2005/2006 for me. It was a disappointing end for the club, with both finals sides suffering defeats. Friday rain and an unlucky coin toss put paid to the top sides hope of promotion to first grade. Batting first on a soft damp wicket was always going to be difficult, but even so 107 all out was a disappointment. The 6th grade, on an artificial wicket, bowled out the opposition for a mere 148. Unfortunately it meant we had to bat for 8 overs before stumps on day 1, 3 for 16. Still gettable. We lost 4 for 6 to be 7 for 22 less than half an hour in to day 2 and all of a sudden, not so gettable. Kudos to Brickie for his defiant half century, but all out for 92, game over.

Oh, well, back to Saturday afternoons at the soccer club for the next 5 months for me.

Go Lions

Perspective

The strangest things


I am constantly amazed by the means life* employs to remind me not to get too caught up in myself. I was on the morning train, armed with my usual "war against everyone" mentality, glaring at the people sitting, daring them to try and stand up and leave the train before me (one of my pet hates). The girl in front of me leaned forward and her "Harrods" carry bag gaped open. Do you know what was inside?

Her lunch.

A bottle of water, a can of Coke and something wrapped in aliminium foil. In that instant, she went from being "she, her, they" to being "me". The simple recognition that half an hour earlier, she, like me, was packing her bag with her lunch to get to work filled me with a sense of peace and hope I rarely experience, but cherish when I do. The acknowledgement that no matter who or what someone is or does, we share a common humanity is spiritually uplifting for me, and I am grateful that life* reminds me occasionally.


*{insert your preferred name here}

Boycott the Osborne Park Hotel - Dummy Spit Ahead

I'll give my money to somebody else.
Unbelievable!!!

It was 30 odd degrees (C) in Perth today, and I spent from 8:00 until 5:30 in the sun at a soccer lightning carnival. I ducked out for an hour or so to watch some club mates play cricket. On the way, I thought, "Geez a beer would be nice" so I pulled in to the drive through of the OSBORNE PARK HOTEL. "Four TED's and a can of Coke thanks mate". The snot nose at the counter says "no mate, nothing less than a six pack" What the fuck?!?!. He then followed by what I can only assume was his attempt at a sales pitch "look mate, I don't even want to sell you less than a carton, have you seen how cheap it is?". Needless to say, I did not, as I was already on my way to find someone who wanted my custom. What a twat! Cross that pub of your list of places to drink (it's a shit hole anyway). The place must be doing well enough that it can do without my twelve bucks today, and any future money I would have spent there, so it probably doesn't need yours either. I won't put up with that shit. I'm a nasty prick when annoyed, and am not averse to the odd crusade. I wonder what his boss will think when he reads my email.

Beer on tap

Norwegian beer? Apparently the barman connected the wrong hose when setting up a new keg, and the apartment downstairs got beer instead of water, and the bar got water instead of beer. How did anyone notice? There is a law in Norway banning the production of beer over 4.75%. Still, an odd story, and stories about beer always catch my attention.

Urinspiration #1

Grumpy old man





I've had another of my "Urinspirations"
I am fated to be a grumpy old man. You know, the type who complains about every slight inconvenience.

The logic goes something like this.

I spend a great deal of my time trying to eradicate problems from my life, to make my life as easy as possible, and have spent most of my adult life doing so. I now believe that it has become a Pavlovian response, so that, even as my life gets easier (which it does) I am compelled to find "problems" to solve. The worst thing is that as the compulsion, through conditioning, gets stronger the problems will be come increasingly trivial, until finally I am arrested and jailed for laying in wait and strangling the lady that delivers "The Stirling Times" for sticking it in the letterbox in such a way that I tear the front page when I remove it.

Who says time in the toilet is unproductive?

Ugly Parents...

....raise ugly children

Sad to say, I wasn't really surprised when I came across this story. For the last 4 years I have been involved in junior soccer, the last couple at a fairly competitive level. Soccer parents are very intense. Bear (my younger son) started training in January for a season that kicks of on the last day of April, but one of the other Mums fronted his coach at training because she didn't believe the training sessions go for long enough!! It was 38 deg on Tuesday, and the boys ran from 5 o'clock until 6:15 or so. "This is Academy level football", as if that were a mantra. I guess I'm just the opposite, because I think that Fred (the elder) is being pushed too hard. February saw him start high school, play cricket at District level, start pre-season soccer and take up indoor soccer as part of his training. I love the game, I love sport in general, but some people just take it too far.

It's just a game.

Forever Young

Melancholy

I had a brief but interesting conversation with G and Sir Woodie last night about sadness and perspective. G mentioned watching a video clip of a song (Forever Young) that has young guys skating in it, and tried to describe the sadness and at the same time pleasure he felt reminiscing. I really thought I was the only one who thought like that. Sir Woodie, of course, never thinks like that, so he informs us, and I envy him if that is the case. I'm not trying to imply that all memories send me spiralling down into depression, but sometimes, the sense of loss for who I was, and what I was is almost overwhelming. I think it is because of the finality of it, the fact that it is impossible for me to go back and be that person that allows me to indulge myself in this way. If it was the re-creation of the experience I truly desired, then I would do something more about it than blog it. No, it is not the longing for past experiences I feel, but a longing for the past. The very fact that it is denied me allows me to rail internally about the unfairness of it all without the obligation (or even option) of having to do anything tangible.