The Fan
I'd just like to take some time out to say:
1. Only 10 more days til John Mayer's concert!
2. GO THE ROOSTERS!
Goodnight.
2 Cents And A Blind Eye
I tuned into the news the other night, prompted by a guilty feeling of not keeping a 'real' perspective of the greater world...
It seems like nothing has changed at all - headlines: War on Terrorism, Sexed-up (hahaha) documents on WMD, Amrozi, and a licence plate fetching the same price as Phil and Amity's we-think-it-will-sell-for-$900,000 (errr - try $640,000) Bondi apartment.
But what really struck me was the story on the continuing war between the Israelis and Palestinians. It's sad to see that the media portraying Arafat as the sole "obstruction to the road map to peace" process, when it's clear that Bush and Sharon are both just as hard headed. Not to mention the fact that it has nothing to do with America, the Israeli's invaded Palestinian territory in the first place and Sharon had just finished off bombing Arafat's headquarters.
I guess, what's worse, is that none of these points were even mentioned in the story.
But that's ok, isn't it?
Sandra Sully looks trustworthy, a fine weekend is forecasted and Sport's Tonight is due in six minutes.
I tuned into the news the other night, prompted by a guilty feeling of not keeping a 'real' perspective of the greater world...
It seems like nothing has changed at all - headlines: War on Terrorism, Sexed-up (hahaha) documents on WMD, Amrozi, and a licence plate fetching the same price as Phil and Amity's we-think-it-will-sell-for-$900,000 (errr - try $640,000) Bondi apartment.
But what really struck me was the story on the continuing war between the Israelis and Palestinians. It's sad to see that the media portraying Arafat as the sole "obstruction to the road map to peace" process, when it's clear that Bush and Sharon are both just as hard headed. Not to mention the fact that it has nothing to do with America, the Israeli's invaded Palestinian territory in the first place and Sharon had just finished off bombing Arafat's headquarters.
I guess, what's worse, is that none of these points were even mentioned in the story.
But that's ok, isn't it?
Sandra Sully looks trustworthy, a fine weekend is forecasted and Sport's Tonight is due in six minutes.
I think, therefore I blog
Last night I had attended my first class in an introduction to philosophy. I'm not really sure whether this will be practical in any sense, but it's something that I've always had a vague interest in.
I hate to state the obvious, but it's just so much more satisfying and rewarding when you're studying something that you actually find interesting.
And it shits me that everything I have a keen interest in has no dollar profit involved with it.
Last night I had attended my first class in an introduction to philosophy. I'm not really sure whether this will be practical in any sense, but it's something that I've always had a vague interest in.
I hate to state the obvious, but it's just so much more satisfying and rewarding when you're studying something that you actually find interesting.
And it shits me that everything I have a keen interest in has no dollar profit involved with it.
Today, I Smile
I was at the crossroads last Saturday, faced with a beautiful morning, highway traffic, exit signs and a windshield covered with mysetrious debris. I was in a surprisingly good mood.
Maybe it was the weather, the driving, or the fact that I was alone - accompanied only by cigarettes, John Mayer, and the shrill sound of my own voice singing along.
Maybe it was the destination that excited me and the potential to turn a few strangers into friends.
Maybe it was the fact that this weekend has been the first in a long while where I have actually been out of town, or at least felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Maybe this will be the start of something new in my life.
Maybe it's just another standout day in an otherwise mundane life.
I was at the crossroads last Saturday, faced with a beautiful morning, highway traffic, exit signs and a windshield covered with mysetrious debris. I was in a surprisingly good mood.
Maybe it was the weather, the driving, or the fact that I was alone - accompanied only by cigarettes, John Mayer, and the shrill sound of my own voice singing along.
Maybe it was the destination that excited me and the potential to turn a few strangers into friends.
Maybe it was the fact that this weekend has been the first in a long while where I have actually been out of town, or at least felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Maybe this will be the start of something new in my life.
Maybe it's just another standout day in an otherwise mundane life.
Miss Stress
Dear Ms Marlboro,
Do you remember when we first met? How I stared at you at the newsagency and asked for you to join me for lunch that day? I felt so stupid, yet excited at the time. I was young and naive; wanting to grow old, when I had yet to mature. I still feel like this at times when I'm alone with you, but I'm starting to wonder when this affair will end.
We've shared so many moments together. Those endless hours in the cafe, exchanging thoughts on music, literature and movies; the times we would head for a drive without a destination; the pool halls and clubs; the intimate moments by the porch at home. I will never forget.
But I know it's time to move on.
I'm not really sure what has prompted this feeling within me. I still love you as much as I did that first day, and all the other first's we'd experienced together. Maybe it's a cocktail of public opinion, common sense and guilt all mixed that has swayed me to rethink; but in this unhealthy battle my mind always seems to succumb to my heart.
Maybe when I do muster the courage to resist my temptation to be with you, I can act on a definite decision. But for now, I'm reduced to my own words and inaction.
Now, I'm just left waiting for the day I can wake up to the morning without thinking of you...
Ma...
Dear Ms Marlboro,
Do you remember when we first met? How I stared at you at the newsagency and asked for you to join me for lunch that day? I felt so stupid, yet excited at the time. I was young and naive; wanting to grow old, when I had yet to mature. I still feel like this at times when I'm alone with you, but I'm starting to wonder when this affair will end.
We've shared so many moments together. Those endless hours in the cafe, exchanging thoughts on music, literature and movies; the times we would head for a drive without a destination; the pool halls and clubs; the intimate moments by the porch at home. I will never forget.
But I know it's time to move on.
I'm not really sure what has prompted this feeling within me. I still love you as much as I did that first day, and all the other first's we'd experienced together. Maybe it's a cocktail of public opinion, common sense and guilt all mixed that has swayed me to rethink; but in this unhealthy battle my mind always seems to succumb to my heart.
Maybe when I do muster the courage to resist my temptation to be with you, I can act on a definite decision. But for now, I'm reduced to my own words and inaction.
Now, I'm just left waiting for the day I can wake up to the morning without thinking of you...
Ma...
The Bridge
I’m sitting with you on a damp, green bench
We are underneath bright stars and overlooking shimmering water
Light traffic passes overhead as we converse
Fears, dreams and regrets
Shared between too few cigarettes
And the hours of predawn
Is the time to fly away
Before the birth of another day
Brings the death of our night
I’m sitting with you on a damp, green bench
We are underneath bright stars and overlooking shimmering water
Light traffic passes overhead as we converse
Fears, dreams and regrets
Shared between too few cigarettes
And the hours of predawn
Is the time to fly away
Before the birth of another day
Brings the death of our night
Uno Momento
It's 10:24AM and I'm shuffling uneasily in a tight corridor. To my left are shelves full of cases; to my right, toilets. I hate working here, but I have no choice - my cubicle isn't big enough to house these shelves.
It's 10:24AM and I can sense the impending rush for the morning tea/toilet break to happen. I start feeling flustered and hurried as the secretaries walk past me and into the toilets.
It's 10:24AM and I dodge and weave for executives storming past. I keep my head down and try to look as busy as I can possibly look. I avoid their attempts at acknowledging smiles and shy away from any eye contact they may be trying to establish.
It's 10:24AM and the noise of light chatter and hand dryers consumes my attention. I feel a gush of wind as the toilet doors are open and shut behind me.
It's 10:24AM and a concoction of coffee, air freshener and perfumes alert me that they will soon retire to their offices. Exchanges of half-hearted greetings and lesser conversations are slowly fading.
It's 10:24AM and everything stops.
Hi, are you Mario?
Yes. (And you are so beautiful. What's your name?)
I heard you're covering for Rosalinda while she is away?
Yes. (I've been working here for a while but usually keep to myself. Nobody usually acknowledges me.)
Good to meet you. Well, welcome aboard. If you need any help my office is next to Nicole's.
OK. (Would you like to go for lunch sometime? How about today?)
I'll see you later.
It's 10:25AM and everything is back to normal. I carry on with my work as the last hint of her fragrance is whisked away by the gush of wind from the toilet door behind me.
It's 10:24AM and I'm shuffling uneasily in a tight corridor. To my left are shelves full of cases; to my right, toilets. I hate working here, but I have no choice - my cubicle isn't big enough to house these shelves.
It's 10:24AM and I can sense the impending rush for the morning tea/toilet break to happen. I start feeling flustered and hurried as the secretaries walk past me and into the toilets.
It's 10:24AM and I dodge and weave for executives storming past. I keep my head down and try to look as busy as I can possibly look. I avoid their attempts at acknowledging smiles and shy away from any eye contact they may be trying to establish.
It's 10:24AM and the noise of light chatter and hand dryers consumes my attention. I feel a gush of wind as the toilet doors are open and shut behind me.
It's 10:24AM and a concoction of coffee, air freshener and perfumes alert me that they will soon retire to their offices. Exchanges of half-hearted greetings and lesser conversations are slowly fading.
It's 10:24AM and everything stops.
Hi, are you Mario?
Yes. (And you are so beautiful. What's your name?)
I heard you're covering for Rosalinda while she is away?
Yes. (I've been working here for a while but usually keep to myself. Nobody usually acknowledges me.)
Good to meet you. Well, welcome aboard. If you need any help my office is next to Nicole's.
OK. (Would you like to go for lunch sometime? How about today?)
I'll see you later.
It's 10:25AM and everything is back to normal. I carry on with my work as the last hint of her fragrance is whisked away by the gush of wind from the toilet door behind me.
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.
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.
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