viva east timor


This is the East Timorese cycling team that’ll be off to the Olympics this year. If they come up against australia I think I’ll barrack for the E.T.s because of the continued bully-boy tactics this country is on with — as if the 14 years of dirty deals with Indonesia, before independence wasn’t enough.

I got the clipping from ex-girlfriend jean, who returned to town briefly for educational commitments. She showed some of the villagers this entry back (with the Cherry Guevara icecream wrapper) and they didn’t like at all. It made them angry. That’s the difference – fighting for freedom is a real thing there and not much more than an abstract concept here — we decide to stay home and make it a Blockbuster evening — every evenning, as freedom erodes.

But hey! if they didn’t like that then I sure wouldn’t want to be standing too close when they find out about the pitch I had accepted – the (banana flavoured) Xanana Split Icecream Sunday with GusmaoBerry Topping. It comes in a little plastic cup.

Speaking of the evil icecream conspiracy


I bought an eskimo pie the other day just for the hell of it, and as you can imagine, was horribly diappointed. It’s just a whack of vanilla icecream in crappy chocolate. Where’d the damn busicuit go? Two dollars?! .. get outta here…


The attentive will remember that I listen to the RRR Breakfasters in the morning. Last week they said next week’s album of the week would be Skalpel‘s new one and I said to myself I want to win that. Album of the Week is where they give away two copies each morning. Skalpel are from Poland and are on the NinjaTune label — all their artists are good.
And so this morning I did win it because I can do anything I set my mind to.
Then the really nutso stuff started to happen. I notice that a song on it is saying my name – not yak sox but my real life name.
There’s a Melbourne, rockin’ all-girl trio that I’d never heard of before called My Wedding Night, and it’s this new song where they sing about how hot I am and how much of Demon in the sack I am. They spell out the seven letters in a chanty cheerleadery way!
I was spinning out so much that I didn’t think to press record until halfway through. One of the lines is, “That boy he can please us like four kinds of cheeses”.
If that doesn’t rock then nothing does. I kind of feel sorry for all you who do not share my name because I have never come across a better way to reconstitute personal P E P ! levels than dancing around listening to a chorus of people of the opposite sex (or whatever your thing is) sing-spelling out your name.

From my point of view, up until I got to high school my impression was that my name was relatively rare. Not freaky — it’s not like ‘Buggy’ or that. Then in highschool there was two others in my level. I think they’re plumbers now.
Then about six or eight years ago the name started to climb the baby-name charts. It never made top of the pops, but sat on no.2 for a couple of years and may still be in the top ten. When I heard this I realised my calling.

As the eldest, or at least the one with the vision, I would become their leader. This should come to fruition in four years when most of them are ten or twelve and able to fight.
I even wrote a poem about it called 10,000 *******s coming over the hill. It’s ten thousand lines long.
Our destiny is to destroy the anti-******* and over-run his evil empire. He is the most likely heir to the largest remaining family-run media conglomerate.

At this point I will direct you to D/blog’s recent piece on self-indulgence, I’m off to practice my star-jumps.


using curried eggs to curry favour

Q) You know what’s bringing me closer to wretching than anything else in recent history?
A) Discovering sqished bits of snail or slug on the carpet.

Q) You know what depresses me most of all?
(apart from missing out on tickets to see Kamahl perform in geelong on thursday)
A) Not the 40 hour famine, the greenhouse layer or dolphins. It’s the fact that even when I find a good pair of shoes that are really comfortable, eventually the heel of the sole will wear down and they’ll have to be chucked out. I know cobblers can supposedly fix that kind of thing, but it doesn’t look the same and it doesn’t feel the same.
I refuse to believe it’s got something to do with me walking llike a mutie; dragging one leg behind, torso tipped on an angle to the side, arms bent up against my chest with hands flopping about, teeth hanging over bottom lip, heavy breathing and groaning.

I’ve been thinking about this a long time and the only answer I have is to splice some kind of production cell with the sole rubber. The type that makes fingernails would do. There’d have to be some special shop to go to get these special shoes. Depending on how much your shoes get worn down they could excite or chill-out the cell production rate. If you didn’t wear them for a month you would have platform shoes. If you left them for a couple of years they would take over your closet.

Last night I went water sking on Venus with the host from ‘My Restaurant Rules’. What does Venus look like? A lot like the Murray River. I think it’s ironic that the hosts of these newer shoes, alleged “TV Personalities” have no personality whatsoever. They all look and sound the same. It could’ve been one of the guys from Australian Idol, I’m really not sure. Someone let go of the tow-rope while going around a corner and there was a scene of smashed trees 10 or 20 metres onto the embankment. Unfortunately he wasn’t hurt. If they wanted me to like those shows why didn’t they get people like Kamahl to run them.

I would like to sum up by saying that if Shakespeare were alive today he would be well over 400 years old.


norm gallagher eat your heart out

One of those things I don’t know if other people experience is very occasionally if I’m having a nap in a bright daytime environment and I start to dream then through the whole dream I’ll be stumbling around sheilding my eyes and feeling my way along. Occasionally I’ll lamely flail a bit, attempting to bat away the invisible light source.
It’s that flailing approach that I seem to have adopted to homework this year and it’s proving hard to change the attitude.
Anyway, if it all falls apart there’s a job niche I just noticed that’s open. I’ll become the union organiser for paper delivery people. The bosses call us ‘walkers’ but that’s rubbish, anyone can walk (except people who can’t walk). I prefer the term slotter. They probably don’t earn enough for me to skim a wage off but I don’t care, I’d be happy to do it for the power.
The thing is, if I say we’re going out on strike, then those papers ain’t gonna get delivered and nobody will find out that The Good Guys are having a fridge sale, and the whole society will come to a screeching halt. Besides, slotters get paid so little that the bosses will never find anyone else who’d scab for ’em.
Sure it’ll be a bit of a challenge convincing all the various kinds of people that become slotters to join the union — grumpy old buggers, 10 y.o. kids who can’t concentrate for ten seconds and a myriad other unemployable freaks and half-bakes, but a routine of spending 95% of the week inside alone is preparation that’s second to none.

Once I met a guy who was organiser for a renegade sheep shearers union. He was very good with the talkin’, and had a rotund, silent offsider who did the drivin’. Arms crossed over chest sort.
I need to get me a fat guy.

Yesterday I realised that there isn’t one proper toy shop left in the middle of town here. Fortunately there’s a perfectly good one just up the road. I was looking around :- HotWheels cars have taken on a positively surreal quality
-neither they or Matchbox have any damn cars that correspond with those in reality anymore
-MicroMachines have this variety called ‘Phat’ cars, again surreal. In scale, you’re average street car would be about 30 feet wide. They have these little action sets, ‘dioramas’ if you like, which come with one car. It’s called ‘Phat Boyz City’ and the particular diorama I was looking at was of a hamburger restaurant (at least it wasn’t a product tie-in with McDs or BK).
Maybe it’s a vision of our fat future when, after eating ten hamburgers, we need a 30x30ft car to fit all that lard into.

L.A.M.P. and CMSes etc.


Well I must say it’s nice to be setting this site up on an apache server — a L.A.M.P. set up no less. This is going to be a nerdy entry, you’re warned.
Yup, Linux, Apache, MySql and Php. The first year of spouting on the internet was on a unix server, but it was Zeus – and poorly maintained. And then, most recently – a microsoft server which has a lot of disadvantages. The other day I was able to set up an .htaccess file and put an end to hotlinking of images. Goodo!
Eventhough it’s only been a week or two that I’ve been using this new server, why spoil a fine record of opining on things way before time. I’m impressed with the unchangingness of the SmartArtist serving behaviour — it’s always there so far which is actually pretty good in these procrastination-filled times because I’m clicking through several times a day.

[Addendum to entry; 15/12/04. I’m not vindictive, but I think it necessary to add to this entry if people are going to google SmartArtist to here. My end personal experience with SmartArtist was that, while thier servers were reliable, they failed miserably in the customer service dept and were not true to their word.]

Stretched out on a RAQ, it all is, with a little picture raq

Was a little miffed at Nukulus, because I did my database backup just like I was supposed to before the move and then when it got to business here, I find out from the lads down at R&D *that backing up with Mozilla doesn’t work*, which is preposterous really when you think about it.
So I’m slowly dragging my way through hand cut n’ pasting 400 entries back into shape. I’ve done this kind of thing before — there’s actually this unhealthy little bit of my head that likes doing it. But it’s heaps worse this time because some MySql quirk means that everytime I did “this” or contracted a word, it stuck dreaded ‘s next to the inverted commas.

On the upside I had a little fiddle with pivot 1.10 and was rather impressed. Truth be told, Pivot was another of those things that didn’t cope very well with the MS server. But it set up smoothly and I tried out its conversion tool, switching over the other 400 entries from movable type to Pivot without any problems at all. So even though the archives are still split between two CMSes, at least I’m finally rid of all those movable type hyperlinks. It converted comments, tracbacks no probs.

And nucleus eXtreme Edition looks interesting. Just tried it out on the internal server and even though I don’t like the slickness and bland ‘skins’, some of the plugins it has configured are neat. If it’s not extreme or monster these days it’s nothing, am I right? I think I dislike the misappropriation of the word ‘skin’ re: the oter surfaces of computer programs even more than I find the word ‘blog’ reminds me of sitting in the toilet.

Seymour headbutts. C’mon fellas I wanna seymour headbutts.

Golly, the incumbent’s electioneering campaign is way more entertaining than the challenger’s. And golly I love being a regional Victorian, we know how to take direct action.

<a href=”” title=”20040422_SEYMOURHEADBUTT by esquimauxpie, on Flickr”><img src=”” width=”200″ height=”301″ alt=”20040422_SEYMOURHEADBUTT” /></a>

Apparently it happened in Kilmore, but the guy was from Seymour and there’s no way I’m going past a heading-opportunity like this. The still image is pretty alright but the video footage, all 2 seconds of it was positively stellar. The facial expressions of the bloke doing the butting — even if I had two hours to sit around trying to word that half-second as he swung his head-as-a-weapon back … I could not. The way he rebounded backwards just as much as the minder was thrown back by the force – O the physics! it was like those silver executive ball-toys. The facial expression of the copper behind them as he realised what was happening and swung into action grabbing the bloke doing the butting.
And that fantastic mullet!

I look at things like this and I don’t see a disturbing display of violence, I see humanity in all its confused, complex beauty. A small man desperately gropes for a solution to an insurmountable difference of opinion, and comes up with the headbutt — the unthinking self-sacrifice where mind clashes against mind and the aggressor withdraws in as much pain as the opponent.

Maybe it’s just due to deadline-induced stress, but I feel like I’m getting laughs out of more and more things lately. I’m grateful I live in an era where there’s video cameras everywhere enough to catch gems like this.

I can’t wait to see what ‘politics’ inspired antics are on the news tonight.

indians scattered on dawn’s highway bleeding

Commenting on The News Of The Day isn’t usually my thing but hearing that johnny howard was in 1968-74 aka Colac yesterday was too much to pass up. Because an aboriginal woman pointed THE BONE at him. Ouch.
I didn’t even know the aboriginies had bone pointing skillz, I thought it was like an african thing. Me bruva did the main article in the Colac local rag, but no mention or photo of that Bah! – mostly just toeing the smalltown conservative line. Although there was a foto of some protesting hippies that I know.
Warrnambool’s local rag does mention it but, here.

walks with pizzas

That would be my n.american indian name if they were to give me one, because I seem to be doing an awful lot of that lately; walking eating a pizza. But who in their right mind could go past Monday Madness half-price night. $3.75 for a large pizza – that’s obscene. Pizza cutters have always been the mercenaries of the eats business. I didn’t need any ‘the pizza’ tvshow to work that out — I figured it out way back when Tower Pizza was at it’s height. It should’ve been called Dark Tower Pizza. Not in an ‘I’m whinging about this’ kind of way – but they were just evil. The last time I was near there there was dead leaves and scrap paper and wind-blown garbage around their door — the Tower now lies dormant, waiting for a new evil master.
And so Pizza Lovers of the monday madness was rather busy. Another of those things I wish I had the attitude for is to say a different name when the ask for a name — like blockhead or Potsy. It was very Happy Days there. I saw a guy wearing my 4WD slippers. A couple of weeks back there was an old Miss Marple-ish type sitting next to me waiting and via my mindblowingly brilliant peripheral vision I could see that she was doing something with a pen and paper and that her eyes were flicking up and down between the paper and _____? As I got up I managed one quick look at her paper and I think whe was sketching my profile – but frankly mr.squiggle could’ve done a better job.

Speaking of keyboard players, I was reading Monolake‘s website and he mentions Jean-Michel Jarre as being an influence. That name was familiar – I pass by a couple of his CDs at the library every week but hadn’t picked them up on account of them looking skanky and old. I listened to a collected hits type thing. One sounded familiar – from Chariots of Fire or something like that, and I can tell that he was probably a bit of an influence on some of the earlier techno people like Speedy J. Synthesizer music is kind of like computers in films though — it doesn’t take long for it (them) to date.

I aren’t no graphical designer, but I could still really dig this Patron Saints of Graphic Design – what I saw a link Dabs from adland put up. Especially St.Concepta I could relate to.

This is an interesting spin on participatory music nights – NoWax where you bring along yourfave tracks on mp3 and have a little dj comp.


Here’s the latest wacky offering at NQR – ‘Thai Spray’ — not only does it rhyme with fly spray, but the sweeping statement of the day is, “Nuffing good ever came out of a Spraycan” – except maybe spraypaint but only when it’s got lots of colours and is pretty, and I’m not around to inhale the toxic fumes. Fly spray, that stuff people put on baking trays, de-odourant with aluminium in, “air freshener”, WD40. I don’t need any of that junk.

Dies sind nicht meine Schuhe. Meine sind braun.

I’ll have to be brief because the homewerx are banking up again, they just won’t leave me alone.
I saw a Yamaha keyboard in the opshop on friday and snapped it up — 60clams. It’s this metalic light-brown colour, like a nissan skyline, and came in a beige-mustard polyester bag. The dint that this particular model, PS-25, made on reality musn’t have been very big, or was a long time ago because there’s basically nothing on the internet about it. I took a foto of it, intending to put it here, but then I looked at the foto and really, it just looks like a keyboard.
It has a disco beat button.

Since I sold the bass guitars last year there’s been a small hole. I’ve mentioned Dan Wilson before– and listening to his tape dropping antics has been inspiring to the point where I want to give it a go. While I’m trying to cut loose and employ unconventional ‘instruments’, some traditional ones would be good too.
I’ve got this foolscap sized plastic wallet thing for photocopies and it has fine grooves in it that when you scratch across them with a fingernail gives an excellent squikky-squikky sound, which I hope to perform a full opera on.
And the keyboard, accompanied by me making non-word vocal sounds, which are obviously hard to box into written form, but will be things like, “WWooHH!”, and “eewwrrahH”. Also I have a little British Airways German phrasebook (1978) for the business traveller, which I’ll recite from; Können wir Lunchpakete haben? — may we have packed lunches?
and Ich möchte ein englisches Frühstück. – I should like an English breakfast.
Hehe that thing’s been giving me entertainment for years. No one says ‘may I’ anymore. I should like to try and make a habit of it.