Forward
Answering Machine at Mental Health
Hospital...
Hello, and welcome to the mental health
hotline.
If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1
repeatedly.
If you are co-dependent, please ask someone
to press 2 for you.
If you have multiple personalities, press 3,
4, 5, and 6.
If you are paranoid, we know who you are and
what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace
your call.
If you are delusional, press 7 and your call
will be transferred to the mother ship.
If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and
a small voice will tell you which number to
press.
If you are a manic-depressive, it doesn't
matter which number you press,
no one will answer.
If you are dyslexic, press
9696969696969696.
If you have a nervous disorder, please
fidget with the pound key until
a representative comes on the line.
If you have amnesia, press 8 and state your
name, address, telephone number, date of birth,
social security number, and your mother's
maiden name.
If you have post-traumatic stress
disorder, s-l-o-w-l-y &c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y
press 0 ! 0 0.
If you have bi-polar disorder, please leave
a message after the beep
or before the beep or after the beep. Please
wait for the beep.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have short-term memory loss, press 9.
If you have low self-esteem, please hang up.
All operators are too busy to talk to you.
If you are menopausal, hang up, turn on the
fan, lay down &cry. You won't be crazy
forever.
A Blog About Nothing
I've missed my bus again.
This time it wasn't because of an unwillingness to throw away a cigarette, but being enticed by a book sale. I'd spent more time looking for books than I'd intended to. Most of this time was spent reading Dr Seuss.
For some reason it made me wish that Notorious BIG were still alive. Maybe he could have helped underprivileged children from the ghetto, teaching them to read and appreciate reading. He would read/rap lyrics based on Dr Seuss passages, sample Timbaland beats and have the occasional guest appearance by an otherwise little known R&B singer. Let's say Ashanti.
Hmm. Then again, maybe not.
I'm fumbling for loose change as the bus arrives. I hop on board and I'm left wanting for a forward facing seat. I feel uncomfortable travelling backwards. It's not so much the motion, but more so the uneasy feeling of not being able to see what most people are seeing. And it's harder to avoid any form of eye contact with strangers.
I turn my head incessantly, the neck guiding my head and field of view through little used angles. It’s the kind of neck spasms that kids perform when they try to lick their right ear. I can feel the heavy stares coming on. They're eyeing my erratic behaviour. Sooner or later somebody will probably offer me an exorcism.
I notice an edited sticker - Video Camera May Be infused - and I'm not quite sure why I bothered to remember it. I watch the couple seated directly opposite me. They are in deep thought , attempting to solve a crossword together. A group of young couples littered the rear end of the bus. I found myself laughing along with them, but felt somewhat silly in finding that I'm still amused by discreet farts surprising strangers. Their facial expressions were brilliant.
Outside, the traffic had built up. The streets were alive with people shopping and dining. Looking through the window, their images were distorted and entangled with neon reflections. I drift off into a light sleep.
A mini dream played in my head, like a preview for an upcoming feature. My car has been broken into, with the stereo and CD's being taken. Suddenly, I'm standing in a quiet park facing a beautiful stranger. We then...
An abrupt stop woke me. I leapt out of the bus in time to hear the doors snap shut cleanly, without a limb of mine being stuck. After a short drive home I walk up the now familiar steps and to my room. I'd forgotten to close my curtains. They'd been open since last night, in hope that the sunlight would act as a visionary alarm. I restrain my impulsive inclinations to switch on a form of electrical device.
The moonlight had painted my room and its fixtures in deep shades of blue.
Sitting on my bedside and facing the night sky, I am suddenly feeling thankful. But for what, I'm not sure.
I've missed my bus again.
This time it wasn't because of an unwillingness to throw away a cigarette, but being enticed by a book sale. I'd spent more time looking for books than I'd intended to. Most of this time was spent reading Dr Seuss.
For some reason it made me wish that Notorious BIG were still alive. Maybe he could have helped underprivileged children from the ghetto, teaching them to read and appreciate reading. He would read/rap lyrics based on Dr Seuss passages, sample Timbaland beats and have the occasional guest appearance by an otherwise little known R&B singer. Let's say Ashanti.
Hmm. Then again, maybe not.
I'm fumbling for loose change as the bus arrives. I hop on board and I'm left wanting for a forward facing seat. I feel uncomfortable travelling backwards. It's not so much the motion, but more so the uneasy feeling of not being able to see what most people are seeing. And it's harder to avoid any form of eye contact with strangers.
I turn my head incessantly, the neck guiding my head and field of view through little used angles. It’s the kind of neck spasms that kids perform when they try to lick their right ear. I can feel the heavy stares coming on. They're eyeing my erratic behaviour. Sooner or later somebody will probably offer me an exorcism.
I notice an edited sticker - Video Camera May Be infused - and I'm not quite sure why I bothered to remember it. I watch the couple seated directly opposite me. They are in deep thought , attempting to solve a crossword together. A group of young couples littered the rear end of the bus. I found myself laughing along with them, but felt somewhat silly in finding that I'm still amused by discreet farts surprising strangers. Their facial expressions were brilliant.
Outside, the traffic had built up. The streets were alive with people shopping and dining. Looking through the window, their images were distorted and entangled with neon reflections. I drift off into a light sleep.
A mini dream played in my head, like a preview for an upcoming feature. My car has been broken into, with the stereo and CD's being taken. Suddenly, I'm standing in a quiet park facing a beautiful stranger. We then...
An abrupt stop woke me. I leapt out of the bus in time to hear the doors snap shut cleanly, without a limb of mine being stuck. After a short drive home I walk up the now familiar steps and to my room. I'd forgotten to close my curtains. They'd been open since last night, in hope that the sunlight would act as a visionary alarm. I restrain my impulsive inclinations to switch on a form of electrical device.
The moonlight had painted my room and its fixtures in deep shades of blue.
Sitting on my bedside and facing the night sky, I am suddenly feeling thankful. But for what, I'm not sure.
A Little Vanity
On the weekend my parents hosted a party for family friends to celebrate Valentines Day. T and I were playing pool, little sister C and her friend L were doing laps underneath the table. A visitor walks in and addresses L.
Hello pretty girl, what's your name?
C pushes L aside.
Hi, I'm C.
On the weekend my parents hosted a party for family friends to celebrate Valentines Day. T and I were playing pool, little sister C and her friend L were doing laps underneath the table. A visitor walks in and addresses L.
Hello pretty girl, what's your name?
C pushes L aside.
Hi, I'm C.
What Happened at the Petrol Station...
I am driving 85 in a kind of morning that lasts all afternoon, just stuck inside the gloom. Four more exits...
Great.
It's 1:00AM, I'm out of petrol and it's going to cost me an arm and leg for a half tank.
I fish around the car for loose change, silently cursing myself for being seduced by a midnight kebab. The residue of garlic sauce left on my fingers overpowered the strong petrol fumes. I watch the bowser gauges with great attention, aware that I cannot go over $20.02.
I slowly walk towards the counter whilst recounting all my loose change. The sliding doors open and the air conditioning pinched me awake. As I bob down to recount the money once more I spot a zip-loc bag on the ground.
Woohoo! Five free Marlboro's!
After paying the attendant I swoop down to the ground, scooping up the treasure swiftly. I let loose a triumphant strut towards the car.
Three more days til Friday.
I am driving 85 in a kind of morning that lasts all afternoon, just stuck inside the gloom. Four more exits...
Great.
It's 1:00AM, I'm out of petrol and it's going to cost me an arm and leg for a half tank.
I fish around the car for loose change, silently cursing myself for being seduced by a midnight kebab. The residue of garlic sauce left on my fingers overpowered the strong petrol fumes. I watch the bowser gauges with great attention, aware that I cannot go over $20.02.
I slowly walk towards the counter whilst recounting all my loose change. The sliding doors open and the air conditioning pinched me awake. As I bob down to recount the money once more I spot a zip-loc bag on the ground.
Woohoo! Five free Marlboro's!
After paying the attendant I swoop down to the ground, scooping up the treasure swiftly. I let loose a triumphant strut towards the car.
Three more days til Friday.
Strange Days
Visited the Powerhouse to see the Tokyo Street Style exhibition. Advice - take time out to read the comments, they're hilarious.
Current obsession - my daddy... (one of those it's-only-funny-if-you-were-there jokes; useful, I know)
Lunched by Coogee beach, waiting for Mary's apparent apparition. Staring at the white post...
ENTER: Two HOT! girls.
I may have missed a miracle, but witnessed another.
60 year old man, in King Gee's and a white bonds singlet, hoola hoop's in Strathfield Square, a confused afternoon crowd looks on. In their eyes you could see internal conflict was taking place.
Mind - don't laugh, just turn away. It's the right and good thing to do. If that were you blah blah blah...
Heart - BAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!
Walked into the empty building and took the lift up to the sixth floor. Five minutes early, but nobody else is around. I re-check the schedule - I'm one week and five minutes early...
Oh, the perks of living a directionless life.
Visited the Powerhouse to see the Tokyo Street Style exhibition. Advice - take time out to read the comments, they're hilarious.
Current obsession - my daddy... (one of those it's-only-funny-if-you-were-there jokes; useful, I know)
Lunched by Coogee beach, waiting for Mary's apparent apparition. Staring at the white post...
ENTER: Two HOT! girls.
I may have missed a miracle, but witnessed another.
60 year old man, in King Gee's and a white bonds singlet, hoola hoop's in Strathfield Square, a confused afternoon crowd looks on. In their eyes you could see internal conflict was taking place.
Mind - don't laugh, just turn away. It's the right and good thing to do. If that were you blah blah blah...
Heart - BAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!
Walked into the empty building and took the lift up to the sixth floor. Five minutes early, but nobody else is around. I re-check the schedule - I'm one week and five minutes early...
Oh, the perks of living a directionless life.
Geology
In the Hunter Valley with my family and D last weekend. Baby sister C walks into the house carrying a plastic bag.
What's in there C?
Treasure.
She hands over several rocks. I point at a red piece that was once the corner of a paver.
What's this one?
It's a red rock.
I look at her handful of treasure again, and point to a white-ish rock with gray and black dots.
How about that one?
It's my Dalmatian rock.
In the Hunter Valley with my family and D last weekend. Baby sister C walks into the house carrying a plastic bag.
What's in there C?
Treasure.
She hands over several rocks. I point at a red piece that was once the corner of a paver.
What's this one?
It's a red rock.
I look at her handful of treasure again, and point to a white-ish rock with gray and black dots.
How about that one?
It's my Dalmatian rock.
Give Those Glasses to the Baliff... And those...
Opening my PO Box on a lazy Thursday evening...
Vodafone
Colonial
Commonwealth
Sheriff
Oh shit.
My mind was in panic mode, trying to search the memory for anything remotely illegal.
Results 1-10 of about 11,300. Search took 0.28 seconds. Thank you, come again.
I look around the empty room, just to make sure it was empty. I open the letter and have found that I'm on call for Jury Duty for the next year.
Thank God.
I let out a sigh of relief and make a personal promise to minimise dodgy activities. At least until when J gets back from China.
Opening my PO Box on a lazy Thursday evening...
Vodafone
Colonial
Commonwealth
Sheriff
Oh shit.
My mind was in panic mode, trying to search the memory for anything remotely illegal.
Results 1-10 of about 11,300. Search took 0.28 seconds. Thank you, come again.
I look around the empty room, just to make sure it was empty. I open the letter and have found that I'm on call for Jury Duty for the next year.
Thank God.
I let out a sigh of relief and make a personal promise to minimise dodgy activities. At least until when J gets back from China.
The Bible Code
Mario's bad habit #24: Spending too much time reading in the toilet
The last time I read a book my Mum had recommended, I was instantly hooked. I finished reading it within a night, then went about searching for every other book the author had published. I'm not so sure whether it's a wise idea to publicise that I have read every one of Sidney Sheldon's books. A lot of toilet time was spent on getting lost in a whirlwind world of Paris weekends and Swiss Alps retreats. Thank God I've flushed nearly all those notions down the drain.
I'm now deep into a book called The Bible Code by Michael Drosnin. Basically, it's about a code that a computer has managed to extract from the Bible written in Ancient Hebrew. Apparently it's a book of prophecy, with the main claim that the world is now in the End of Days stage, and that the apocalypse will be in 2006, caused by an atomic holocaust. The book is littered with the Ancient Hebrew script, with highlights of prophecies they have managed to decipher. The author reveals that it is quite detailed - names of current world leaders, specific place names and dates surrounding events had been foretold in the Bible code. As an example, the September 11 attacks were apparently encoded.
My mind has been uneasy with all these ideas churning in my head. There's 99% of me that is sceptical, and 1% willing to believe. The next major event prophecised states that Yasser Arafat will be assasinated by an Arab.
Until this day comes, I refuse to believe any of the prophecies.
But when it does, I better make use of my time before 2006 comes around.
Mario's bad habit #24: Spending too much time reading in the toilet
The last time I read a book my Mum had recommended, I was instantly hooked. I finished reading it within a night, then went about searching for every other book the author had published. I'm not so sure whether it's a wise idea to publicise that I have read every one of Sidney Sheldon's books. A lot of toilet time was spent on getting lost in a whirlwind world of Paris weekends and Swiss Alps retreats. Thank God I've flushed nearly all those notions down the drain.
I'm now deep into a book called The Bible Code by Michael Drosnin. Basically, it's about a code that a computer has managed to extract from the Bible written in Ancient Hebrew. Apparently it's a book of prophecy, with the main claim that the world is now in the End of Days stage, and that the apocalypse will be in 2006, caused by an atomic holocaust. The book is littered with the Ancient Hebrew script, with highlights of prophecies they have managed to decipher. The author reveals that it is quite detailed - names of current world leaders, specific place names and dates surrounding events had been foretold in the Bible code. As an example, the September 11 attacks were apparently encoded.
My mind has been uneasy with all these ideas churning in my head. There's 99% of me that is sceptical, and 1% willing to believe. The next major event prophecised states that Yasser Arafat will be assasinated by an Arab.
Until this day comes, I refuse to believe any of the prophecies.
But when it does, I better make use of my time before 2006 comes around.
Never Ending Story
It's 5:00PM.
I'm engrossed in an article on anti-american movements, sipping away on a tasteless Green Iced Tea, slowly melting into the summer afternoon. Someone sits on the table opposite mine and proceeds to twiddle with his mobile phone. He takes a long, heavy drag on his cigarette.
He concentrated all his efforts on the trail of smoke he exhaled, ensuring that the rings were perfect. After ordering a latte, he spots friends passing by and invites them to join him. They converse.
Hey, how are you guys?
Not too bad.
Guess what, I bought a new car!
Oh really, what is it?
An Astra convertible! Hey how about I pick you guys up on Friday after work, we'll go cruise Bondi, have coffee outside the Ritz Carlton with the TOP DOWN!
Ok, cool.
I bought it within half an hour and the dealer loved me, you know what he told me?
What...
He said he wished that every customer was just like me.
Err...
I didn't even test drive it. I bought it last Friday and test drove it on Saturday. It cost me $55,000. My supervisor was like spewing. Only the managing director drives a more expensive car than me now. I have the second most expensive car at work.
Why that car? I mean for that money you could have bought something else.
Well I wanted to stay away from the street racer image, because it's not cool enough. This is cool, with class and chicks love it. It's...
An Astra convertible drives by outside the cafe, and he is quick to point it out.
See! Look at it! It's got the red leather and black exterior. That's the colour scheme I wanted because all the other colours and schemes go out of fashion, but black is classy all the time, never goes out of fashion. Oh and by the way I told C I bought a new car and we got into an ugly argument.
What happened...
Well, he just bought a SECOND-HAND WRX and he told me my car was a chick car. So I told him, look - I'll pull chicks in my new car and you'll pull guys from Bankstown. He got so offended.
And then...
I said - ok, we'll see who has to go to the smash repairers first, who spends more on insurance or who is first into a service. I can buy two of your cars with mine. And mine's brand new!
The pair didn't know what to say. A minute of uneasy silence blanketed their mute conversation.
Ok. Well, we'll catch you later. Call us on Friday ok?
Ok. Bye. I'll come by as soon as it's delivered. I'll pick you guys up in my new car ok?
They had already drifted off into the peak hour rush at the station. With a satisfied face, he pulls out another cigarette. He browsed through a Holden catalogue, just to remind himself that he just bought a new car, and this is what it looks like.
With the silence I continued reading the paper. By the last drag of his cigarette, he was again busily fiddling with his phone. He calls three different people and the story is repeated.
I try to turn my attention to other things but I'm somewhat drawn to the story. I had more than a slight inkling to go over there and talk to him, and it's not because I'm interested in cars (I am), but more so because I couldn't stand his arrogance. I restrain myself, knowing that it would just be hypocritical - arrogant in my part in believing that my opinion was superior - and pointless.
I leave the cafe and start walking towards my car. I feel somewhat disappointed, but I'm not exactly sure at what. I pause to look around me, at the people pouring out of the station and the traffic going by. A fake Louis Vuitton bag here, an overpriced Marcs shirt there and an old BMW churning out music so loud it could raise the dead.
As I stand on the escalator I am left wondering how and why do material goods empower humans, when it is ultimately futile. I resigned to a comfortable notion that that is just the way the world is.
I get into my car and slot in a CD. Perhaps Mos Def said it best - The harder you flash, the harder you get flashed on.
It's 5:00PM.
I'm engrossed in an article on anti-american movements, sipping away on a tasteless Green Iced Tea, slowly melting into the summer afternoon. Someone sits on the table opposite mine and proceeds to twiddle with his mobile phone. He takes a long, heavy drag on his cigarette.
He concentrated all his efforts on the trail of smoke he exhaled, ensuring that the rings were perfect. After ordering a latte, he spots friends passing by and invites them to join him. They converse.
Hey, how are you guys?
Not too bad.
Guess what, I bought a new car!
Oh really, what is it?
An Astra convertible! Hey how about I pick you guys up on Friday after work, we'll go cruise Bondi, have coffee outside the Ritz Carlton with the TOP DOWN!
Ok, cool.
I bought it within half an hour and the dealer loved me, you know what he told me?
What...
He said he wished that every customer was just like me.
Err...
I didn't even test drive it. I bought it last Friday and test drove it on Saturday. It cost me $55,000. My supervisor was like spewing. Only the managing director drives a more expensive car than me now. I have the second most expensive car at work.
Why that car? I mean for that money you could have bought something else.
Well I wanted to stay away from the street racer image, because it's not cool enough. This is cool, with class and chicks love it. It's...
An Astra convertible drives by outside the cafe, and he is quick to point it out.
See! Look at it! It's got the red leather and black exterior. That's the colour scheme I wanted because all the other colours and schemes go out of fashion, but black is classy all the time, never goes out of fashion. Oh and by the way I told C I bought a new car and we got into an ugly argument.
What happened...
Well, he just bought a SECOND-HAND WRX and he told me my car was a chick car. So I told him, look - I'll pull chicks in my new car and you'll pull guys from Bankstown. He got so offended.
And then...
I said - ok, we'll see who has to go to the smash repairers first, who spends more on insurance or who is first into a service. I can buy two of your cars with mine. And mine's brand new!
The pair didn't know what to say. A minute of uneasy silence blanketed their mute conversation.
Ok. Well, we'll catch you later. Call us on Friday ok?
Ok. Bye. I'll come by as soon as it's delivered. I'll pick you guys up in my new car ok?
They had already drifted off into the peak hour rush at the station. With a satisfied face, he pulls out another cigarette. He browsed through a Holden catalogue, just to remind himself that he just bought a new car, and this is what it looks like.
With the silence I continued reading the paper. By the last drag of his cigarette, he was again busily fiddling with his phone. He calls three different people and the story is repeated.
I try to turn my attention to other things but I'm somewhat drawn to the story. I had more than a slight inkling to go over there and talk to him, and it's not because I'm interested in cars (I am), but more so because I couldn't stand his arrogance. I restrain myself, knowing that it would just be hypocritical - arrogant in my part in believing that my opinion was superior - and pointless.
I leave the cafe and start walking towards my car. I feel somewhat disappointed, but I'm not exactly sure at what. I pause to look around me, at the people pouring out of the station and the traffic going by. A fake Louis Vuitton bag here, an overpriced Marcs shirt there and an old BMW churning out music so loud it could raise the dead.
As I stand on the escalator I am left wondering how and why do material goods empower humans, when it is ultimately futile. I resigned to a comfortable notion that that is just the way the world is.
I get into my car and slot in a CD. Perhaps Mos Def said it best - The harder you flash, the harder you get flashed on.
Fences and Windows
I found this passage quite interesting, it's from a book called Fences and Windows by Naomi Klein.
Capitalizing on Terror
And so, on September 11, America woke up in the middle of a war only to find out that the war had been going on for years - but no one told them. They were hearing about OJ instead of the devestating effects of economic sanctions on Iraqi children. They were hearing about Monica instead of the fallout from the bombing of that pharmaceutical factory. They were learning about Survivor instead of the role the CIA had played in financing the Mujahedeen warriors. "Here's the rub," writes the Indian novelist Arundhati Roy, "America is at war against people it doesn't know, because they don't appear much on TV."
I found this passage quite interesting, it's from a book called Fences and Windows by Naomi Klein.
Capitalizing on Terror
And so, on September 11, America woke up in the middle of a war only to find out that the war had been going on for years - but no one told them. They were hearing about OJ instead of the devestating effects of economic sanctions on Iraqi children. They were hearing about Monica instead of the fallout from the bombing of that pharmaceutical factory. They were learning about Survivor instead of the role the CIA had played in financing the Mujahedeen warriors. "Here's the rub," writes the Indian novelist Arundhati Roy, "America is at war against people it doesn't know, because they don't appear much on TV."
Tale of the Half Pizza
Sometime last week, when the fridge was barren and the pantry empty, the mind was willing and the flesh was weak. And the parents were out of town.
9481 1111
Thirty-five minutes later…
That’s $20.95
Here you go
Cheers
I rushed back inside as the smell of barbecue chicken consumed my hungry mind. I lifted the lid to find three slices of pizza had been eaten(!). Stunned, I turned to the phone and grabbed a slice to eat for the 15-second wait.
Hi, I’d just received my order and there were only five slices
Sorry?
I think your driver might have been hungry, I’d like to speak to the manager…
OK. She’ll call you back in five minutes
Thanks
Five minutes later…
Hi
Hello is this Mr A?
Yes
What can I do for you, Sir?
I’d like a replacement pizza delivered, my pizza only came with five slices, I…
Um, our pizzas come in eight slices, Sir
Err… I know that (you fucking idiot) why do you think I’m making a complaint?
Well, let me talk to the driver…
And what, make me wait another half an hour? I want that delivered now! What kind of terrible service is this, making people wait for half an hour and give them a half -eaten pizza…
Ok, Sir someone will be there in ten minutes
Thank you
I settle back in front of the TV, finishing what was left of the half pizza.
This blog was proudly brought to you by John Gray’s – How to get what you want and want what you have. And the number 5.
Sometime last week, when the fridge was barren and the pantry empty, the mind was willing and the flesh was weak. And the parents were out of town.
9481 1111
Thirty-five minutes later…
That’s $20.95
Here you go
Cheers
I rushed back inside as the smell of barbecue chicken consumed my hungry mind. I lifted the lid to find three slices of pizza had been eaten(!). Stunned, I turned to the phone and grabbed a slice to eat for the 15-second wait.
Hi, I’d just received my order and there were only five slices
Sorry?
I think your driver might have been hungry, I’d like to speak to the manager…
OK. She’ll call you back in five minutes
Thanks
Five minutes later…
Hi
Hello is this Mr A?
Yes
What can I do for you, Sir?
I’d like a replacement pizza delivered, my pizza only came with five slices, I…
Um, our pizzas come in eight slices, Sir
Err… I know that (you fucking idiot) why do you think I’m making a complaint?
Well, let me talk to the driver…
And what, make me wait another half an hour? I want that delivered now! What kind of terrible service is this, making people wait for half an hour and give them a half -eaten pizza…
Ok, Sir someone will be there in ten minutes
Thank you
I settle back in front of the TV, finishing what was left of the half pizza.
This blog was proudly brought to you by John Gray’s – How to get what you want and want what you have. And the number 5.
The Rage Cage
Two weeks ago I underestimated D, squaring up against him on a 3-on-3 game in hope of an easy match. I'd like to tell people that I was plain lazy, or that he was wearing lucky charms, but it just wasn't right. The bottom line - I played badly.
And to add insult to injury, those that witnessed it didn't think much of rubbing it in my face on a near daily basis.
But it stirred something within me. It prompted a cameo appearance of my competitive side, which is usually dormant. I became restless and an insomniac. During those two weeks I made my intentions quite clear.
Typical scenario:
Hey M, do you want to go to the Rage Cage tonight?
Is D going to be there?
Maybe.
Man, I'm going to open UP A CAN OF WHOOOP ASSSS ON HIM!!! ARRGGGHH!!!
(No, I don't usually say that and I'm not quite sure as to what it means.)
The shirt is off; I'm punching the midnight air in an empty parking lot. Eye of the Tiger is playing in my head.
[19/12/02 11:45:03 PM | somewhere in between Silverwater Jail and Newington]
Back it in M!!! Use your weight!!!
OK.
START
DO
Check the ball
Turn around
Post up
Turn around
Release a baby hook
Score
IF Score
THEN
Crowd - ROAR!
Repeat from line 1
ELSE
Rebound
IF
Rebound
THEN
Repeat from line 1
ELSE
Defend
END
There was nothing much to it. I was a sophisticated robot sent back through time to open up a can of whoop ass on one unlucky and unsuspecting customer.
The satisfaction from revenge eased Mr. Competitive and me into a deep sleep.
Two weeks ago I underestimated D, squaring up against him on a 3-on-3 game in hope of an easy match. I'd like to tell people that I was plain lazy, or that he was wearing lucky charms, but it just wasn't right. The bottom line - I played badly.
And to add insult to injury, those that witnessed it didn't think much of rubbing it in my face on a near daily basis.
But it stirred something within me. It prompted a cameo appearance of my competitive side, which is usually dormant. I became restless and an insomniac. During those two weeks I made my intentions quite clear.
Typical scenario:
Hey M, do you want to go to the Rage Cage tonight?
Is D going to be there?
Maybe.
Man, I'm going to open UP A CAN OF WHOOOP ASSSS ON HIM!!! ARRGGGHH!!!
(No, I don't usually say that and I'm not quite sure as to what it means.)
The shirt is off; I'm punching the midnight air in an empty parking lot. Eye of the Tiger is playing in my head.
[19/12/02 11:45:03 PM | somewhere in between Silverwater Jail and Newington]
Back it in M!!! Use your weight!!!
OK.
START
DO
Check the ball
Turn around
Post up
Turn around
Release a baby hook
Score
IF Score
THEN
Crowd - ROAR!
Repeat from line 1
ELSE
Rebound
IF
Rebound
THEN
Repeat from line 1
ELSE
Defend
END
There was nothing much to it. I was a sophisticated robot sent back through time to open up a can of whoop ass on one unlucky and unsuspecting customer.
The satisfaction from revenge eased Mr. Competitive and me into a deep sleep.
Give Me The Night - Part 3
He opened the show with an instrumental piece, displaying a very slick and fluid technique. The music would smoothly warble down scale, usually followed by a surprisingly sharp note. And with every such note, his head would cock backwards, and his face would become sweet and sour at once.
Tasty stuff.
The bass guitarist also caught my eye – he played the bass as if it were as routine as breathing, but funkier. His body danced like the mid-80’s Michael Jackson, his head wandered about like Stevie Wonder and his left foot was kept busy by playing the tambourine.
The show moved along swiftly, mixing in his greatest hits (Greatest Love of All, Love X Love, Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You, On Broadway) with instrumentals of other classic 70’s and 80’s tracks, such as Lately.
One thing I realised that night was that the line from Moulin Rouge – the greatest thing you could learn is to love, and be loved in return – was actually from a song of his (!)
About mid-way through the concert, the crowd began to get involved, as the music became more upbeat. His disco hits were to affect everyone, as almost half the theatre got up from their seats and cut loose around the aisles and stage, before being told by security to sit down. A gay couple a row or two in front of me, though, couldn’t be stopped. Their dancing resumed on their seat, much to the amusement of the crowd and annoyance to those seated behind them.
I couldn’t help but smile throughout the show, witnessing a theatre full of forty to fifty year olds reliving their glory days of disco.
A good night was had by all.
He opened the show with an instrumental piece, displaying a very slick and fluid technique. The music would smoothly warble down scale, usually followed by a surprisingly sharp note. And with every such note, his head would cock backwards, and his face would become sweet and sour at once.
Tasty stuff.
The bass guitarist also caught my eye – he played the bass as if it were as routine as breathing, but funkier. His body danced like the mid-80’s Michael Jackson, his head wandered about like Stevie Wonder and his left foot was kept busy by playing the tambourine.
The show moved along swiftly, mixing in his greatest hits (Greatest Love of All, Love X Love, Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You, On Broadway) with instrumentals of other classic 70’s and 80’s tracks, such as Lately.
One thing I realised that night was that the line from Moulin Rouge – the greatest thing you could learn is to love, and be loved in return – was actually from a song of his (!)
About mid-way through the concert, the crowd began to get involved, as the music became more upbeat. His disco hits were to affect everyone, as almost half the theatre got up from their seats and cut loose around the aisles and stage, before being told by security to sit down. A gay couple a row or two in front of me, though, couldn’t be stopped. Their dancing resumed on their seat, much to the amusement of the crowd and annoyance to those seated behind them.
I couldn’t help but smile throughout the show, witnessing a theatre full of forty to fifty year olds reliving their glory days of disco.
A good night was had by all.
Give Me The Night – Part 2
Track 9
Repeat – 1
I have never been so much
In love before
What a difference
A true love made in my life
Most R&B songs that I can listen to on repeat usually contain some form of sampling. Interpolation is the word they like to use in the credits. It was from this song that I developed a liking towards George Benson’s music – stemming from K-Ci and JoJo’s Love Always album – back in 1998.
Track 9
Repeat – 1
I have never been so much
In love before
What a difference
A true love made in my life
Most R&B songs that I can listen to on repeat usually contain some form of sampling. Interpolation is the word they like to use in the credits. It was from this song that I developed a liking towards George Benson’s music – stemming from K-Ci and JoJo’s Love Always album – back in 1998.
Zeus Drives A Jaguar
Is it me or are there more and more personalized number plates these days?
Traffic, summer heat and taxi drivers are bad enough, but having to be told that the person in front of me is one or the other is just unnecessary. To the people on the list, I don’t know where to begin…
2SUAVE
GR8CAR
UGOGRL
RUNVUS
ADONIS
SMOOTH
Is it me or are there more and more personalized number plates these days?
Traffic, summer heat and taxi drivers are bad enough, but having to be told that the person in front of me is one or the other is just unnecessary. To the people on the list, I don’t know where to begin…
2SUAVE
GR8CAR
UGOGRL
RUNVUS
ADONIS
SMOOTH
Give Me The Night – Part 1
The foyer was littered with people on their requisite smoke break, and judging from their faces it was obvious that the main act had yet to come. It was one of those occasions when arriving late was actually practical. I'd skipped on traffic, queuing and on average opening acts.
Excellent.
The heavy decorations and ornate fittings adorning the State Theatre seemed like an interesting choice of venue for a 70's pop/jazz star. I couldn’t help but think that as recently as fifty years ago such a theatre would have strongly debated featuring ‘black music’.
Like everything else that I do, action was taken at the final minute. And as usual, the results could have been better.
The best seats I could negotiate were one row apart with the same seat number. Conveniently, the booking company left out the fine detail that our rows were separated by the main dividing walkway. So D and I sat apart, hoping that sometime during the show a couple would walk out and offer us their seats.
Not happy.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for eight-time Grammy Award winner George Benson!
The foyer was littered with people on their requisite smoke break, and judging from their faces it was obvious that the main act had yet to come. It was one of those occasions when arriving late was actually practical. I'd skipped on traffic, queuing and on average opening acts.
Excellent.
The heavy decorations and ornate fittings adorning the State Theatre seemed like an interesting choice of venue for a 70's pop/jazz star. I couldn’t help but think that as recently as fifty years ago such a theatre would have strongly debated featuring ‘black music’.
Like everything else that I do, action was taken at the final minute. And as usual, the results could have been better.
The best seats I could negotiate were one row apart with the same seat number. Conveniently, the booking company left out the fine detail that our rows were separated by the main dividing walkway. So D and I sat apart, hoping that sometime during the show a couple would walk out and offer us their seats.
Not happy.
Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for eight-time Grammy Award winner George Benson!
Dirty Pop
Lacking a comprehensive CD collection, the prodigal son has returned to the FM dial. It’s been three months since I’d last listened to the radio and once again my mind is crammed with more hooks than Rex Hunt.
You’re a good girl and that’s what makes me trust you
Late at night I talk to you
Previous experience has taught me that the best way to deal with insanely catchy tunes is to fight fire with fire, don't switch to another station or CD's. Let it into your system.
What's your flava
Tell me what's your flava
It works along the same mentality as smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one sitting. Just hope it doesn’t backfire and sink into you like nicotine.
Get it fired up in a hurry
Wanna get dirrty
Like all systems, there are still bugs that need to be ironed out…
Major bugs.
Stop
Collaborate and listen
Ice is back with a brand new invention…
Lacking a comprehensive CD collection, the prodigal son has returned to the FM dial. It’s been three months since I’d last listened to the radio and once again my mind is crammed with more hooks than Rex Hunt.
You’re a good girl and that’s what makes me trust you
Late at night I talk to you
Previous experience has taught me that the best way to deal with insanely catchy tunes is to fight fire with fire, don't switch to another station or CD's. Let it into your system.
What's your flava
Tell me what's your flava
It works along the same mentality as smoking a whole pack of cigarettes in one sitting. Just hope it doesn’t backfire and sink into you like nicotine.
Get it fired up in a hurry
Wanna get dirrty
Like all systems, there are still bugs that need to be ironed out…
Major bugs.
Stop
Collaborate and listen
Ice is back with a brand new invention…
Déjà vu
Blue. Red. Yellow. Red. Green.
Party lights.
God they’re an eyesore. It doesn’t help when the light is shining off a room full of fake antique mirrors and middle aged doctors dancing away on a Saturday Night.
I’m sitting at a far corner table, consuming coke to keep myself entertained. The food had been somewhat disappointing, and the company on my table, non-existent.
In the midst of watching a Saturday Night Live imitation I felt a strange sensation pass through my body. The shiver traveled through my body, and lingered around my brain.
Internal Monologue:
What’s going on? What’s happening?
Something is interesting about this evening; I’ll search through our memory files…
Are you sure it wasn’t the curry? I mean, those guys down at gastro are probably…
I’ve dreamt this scene before…
Are you sure?
Déjà vu.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened to me, and it probably won’t be the last. Ever since I could remember I would experience such episodes on average of three or four times a year.
It’s weird, feeling that I have seen the present before, somewhere in a past dream. But I have no recollection of it until I experience that moment.
And the moment reminds me.
Blue. Red. Yellow. Red. Green.
Party lights.
God they’re an eyesore. It doesn’t help when the light is shining off a room full of fake antique mirrors and middle aged doctors dancing away on a Saturday Night.
I’m sitting at a far corner table, consuming coke to keep myself entertained. The food had been somewhat disappointing, and the company on my table, non-existent.
In the midst of watching a Saturday Night Live imitation I felt a strange sensation pass through my body. The shiver traveled through my body, and lingered around my brain.
Internal Monologue:
What’s going on? What’s happening?
Something is interesting about this evening; I’ll search through our memory files…
Are you sure it wasn’t the curry? I mean, those guys down at gastro are probably…
I’ve dreamt this scene before…
Are you sure?
Déjà vu.
This wasn’t the first time it had happened to me, and it probably won’t be the last. Ever since I could remember I would experience such episodes on average of three or four times a year.
It’s weird, feeling that I have seen the present before, somewhere in a past dream. But I have no recollection of it until I experience that moment.
And the moment reminds me.
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