Did Pablo Picasso play the guitar?

Marking may be a pain, but writing mid-term tests allows me a little creativity.
“Vincent van Gough was known for doing something that was pretty crazy. Circle the crazy thing that he did.”
(a) He bit off Paul Gauguin’s ear.
(b) He lived in Antarctica with the penguins for a year.
(c) He cut off part of his own ear.
(d) He cut off part of his girlfriend’s ear.
(e) He painted pictures of Space Invaders before the game was invented.

You see how I got some delayed rhyme in the (a) n’ (b)? So far, no one has taken choice (e) but I’m less than halfway through.
The thing that I really dig is to see how they illustrate how their minds work. They circle, underline and make all kinds of markings through the question, hinting at what they think is the pivot-word. ‘Crazy’, and ‘crazy thing’ are most common.


One thing I like about getting weeks off like this is, no matter where I get to physically, I get brain space enough to think about writing fir the sunnybreaks more than twice a month.

A couple of weeks ago the geelong cats australian rule football team, the sox family’s chosen team, won the Premiership (last game of the season) after being losers for forty years. Several times during the 90s Geelong got into the Grand Final and we, the family, went to the games only to see them lose — it’s pretty tuff on a kid, letmetellya. It’s worse to come second than third or forth, that’s for sure.

A few times in the last couple of months mum’d told me about how well the team was doing. I listened but thought that they’d choke any week soon. There was probably more than a couple of gatherings of people watching the game in Seoul but I wasn’t really up to being around that kind of crowd. Even when I went to the games I’d often be approaching the whole viewing experience from a different angle than folks around me.

Thanks to a few wealthy people in anonymous places in Australia (I say wealthy because bandwidth pirates, Telstra, keep internet culture in poverty in aust.) I was able to download bit-torrents of the two halves of the game and ended up watching it on sunday night (it was on saturday arvo).

The first half was in Hi-def and looked fantastic. The game was good too. Well, it was a bit of a walkover, but when it’s your team doing the walking you don’t mind.
Sport doesn’t really warm the cockles of my heart, but it made me happy to see Geelong win.

As I was saying, barracking for the team is a family thing and extends through my mum’s side of the family. Here is a picture of one of my cousins who somehow got hold of the cup. They must be letting anyone have a feel of it these days. Probably charging 5 bucks a go.


on the streets of Tokyo

Having a bunch of fun wandering around here and there in the city. Lots of things to tell but most of it’s fairly mundane.
Someone please break into my house and smash up my guitars. It’s the only way I could justify buying one here — but by golly they’re cheap. Cheap and good. Locally made Fenders, that is. Just look at this Jaguar and Jazzmasters.


The prices translate to roughly $621 USd. I don’t think they can sock a tax on you if you’re just carrying something as hand-luggage. There’s bass guitars too. I think I’ll go back there tomorrow and have a play.

The Japanese really do know how to do cute. This is the logo of a courier company — simple, yet something that pretty much everyone can understand, and cute!


Re entry


I’m on my way to Japan. I’m surprised they’re letting me back in after the last little fracas.
Nevertheless, I am going back — my sister lives in Tokyo, did I mention that? Or as they say in Korea, I am going to the dokkyor.

Ah, it’s all in the past now. It’s almost funny when I can think back with this much distance between.
I was down in the south part of the main Island — I forget the name of the area now, funny that, but it was winter or nearing it and I was at that place that’s famous for the spa bath monkeys. The ones with red noses.

Man, you know I just wanted to get warmed up a bit – so I went in the water in the main section with the monkeys.
They didn’t take to kind to this, you see.
First it was just dirty looks, then looking away stiffly when I looked at them, as if they were saying, “good day, sir!” in a huffy English way. However, after living in Korea for two and a half years, I used to this kind of thing. I ignored it and enjoyed take-a-bath.
One of them splashed me.
I splashed back.
A larger one waded over slowly and in quite a deliberate kind of way, stood up and slapped me across the face.
A monkey slapped _me_ across the face.
I would have none of this, yet could not lower myself to the truly barbaric notion of fisticuffs with a monkey.
I beat a retreat to the edge of the pool and was making to get out.
A monkey jumped on my back and puled me back down!
I wrestled free, got out quickly with several of the monkeys hot on my heels.
They were surprisingly fast little buggers and I was only just in front of them. I lost my advantage as I bent down to grab my backpack. I felt a push in the back, lost balance and went sprawling. Stuff from my bag went everywhere.
The silver of my pocket-knife, glinting orange in the light of sunset caught a monkey’s eye.
The monkey grabbed it, flipped out the blade and it was on. Two centimetres of raw stainless-steel terror!
Action music started blaring from speakers in tree-branches!
We danced around eachother keeping a low center of gravity, each waiting for a moment of weakness, the time to strike.

Needless to say, things did not turn out all beer n skittles for the monkey, for it is *I* writing this weblogue memoir and not he.
Caused a big international incident. On the re-entry form it asked ‘had I ever been convicted of a criminal felony in this country?’ I just lied — seemed to work okay.
So I’m here staying with my sister, did I mention that? Her place is _tiny_.


The 49th parallel

h3. It’s a canadian movie from 1941.

p{color:blue}. I actually tried to watch this about a month ago. It was on TVlinks and I got to about halfway through before attempting to pause it to go to the toilet. The divX thing crapped out and I couldn’t get it back to the same spot without watching it it again.

p{color:blue}. As a side note, the whole communication via the internet and electronic means seems to be falling down when it comes to how to show telly and movies streaming. The whole thing dies on me often. I don’t knoww if it’s divx, or firefox or apple but someone needs to get their act together.

p{color:blue}. Back to the movie.
There’s submarines in the first five minutes — that’s what kept me watching. A German U-boat gets sunk in Hudson bay and a bunch of the nazis onboard have to make their way down through the countryside to the USA, which is at that stage, neutral. That’s right, in 1941 Uncle Sam didn’t have a problem with the Third Reich, or as thehy pronounce it in the movie, riiiissshhh.

p{color:blue}. Laurence Olivier is in it and he gets shot. The Nazis come across a community of Hutterites. (Go listen to their music.) This was the first of the funny scenes, where the head-nazi gets to a point where he was confident that the Hutterites would love Hitler too, based on the fact that they were german.
After dinner he gets up and huffs out the whole spiel, he gets to the end and does the salute + “Heil hitler” and so do the other three nazis with him, but all the Hutterites are still sitting there stony silent. The head-nazi sits down. I guess you had to be there.

p{color:blue}. Anyway, it’s just a funny movie. The main characters are the Nazis – we follow them through the county. It switches between bits where the Germans argue with canadians, and the canadians say how great it is to be free, free to complain, to worship, or to hang out in the forest with the Redfoot Indians while acting like a fop. It switches between that and bits that seem like Canadian tourism promos. that’s hard to do considering it’s in B&W.

p{color:blue}. I give this movie 3 cement mixers out of five.


When I was a third through the sixth year of my primary education we moved and I went to another school. There was a boy there whose family name was Cretin. He had red hair.