hold/save button

A slow day at the office. There’s all these extra empty offices at my ma’s workplace and I’m here waiting around for the afternoon train, pretending to be an office worker, goofing off. Ma’s doing that too – it’s a slow office week ’cause the boss isn’t around.
Man, there’s so many retards in Colac. Honestly, you can’t tell the difference between the ones who’ve slipped through the system, and the ones that got institutionalised. There’s this big institution out on the outskirts of town. I did werkexperience there for a week in yr.10. It was okay. They bought me a Fanta.
We went out for dinner last night and the place was full of spazzies. I’m sure it’s not a thing of perception on my part. If they’re not that then they’re stoners or angry cops — that’s all there is in this town. I got told this story ages ago that when cops get reprimanded, they get transferred to colac. I don’t need to rely on anecdotal evidence for any of those demographic sectors.

It didn’t make it for chrismaz, but my stocking filler book is now available. K’Plah! – the quiet revolution; Klingonasse is taking over our language system by Mitch Andrews. It details how changes to English as we know it won’t be the obvious ones like death of apostrophe or decimation of vowels: tts what its all abt. No, – I go back to the first utterings of Klingon in star trek 3, the search for spock. And from there how the conception was taken up by unfamous but dilligent nerds who constructed a full language and disseminated it through the world via books.
The causal pivot and success to the venture was its arrival co-inciding with the rise of the internet – ’94–> and with people like those google nerds helping the movement along – reference.
The book concludes on how language is the harbinger of a greater change; not long ago the only place you’d see people dressed up as Klingons is at conventions or possibly Las Vegas. Now, you can be reading through an everday magazine about food & drink and come across a photo of a ‘normal’ sitting in a canteen with a couple of Klingons. Indeed, visiting my local supermarket the other day I went to the eight items or less check-out where the cashier greeted me with a grimace, hiss and two rows of teeth filed to sharpened points.

Wow, I could get used to being an office werker if this is all there is. Computer’s nice too.

Oh Yeah, Oh No

“If our eyes were able to sense the waves of invisible radiation now emanating from the innumerable communications and other electronic sources, we would be immeresed in a shimmering haze. Shafts of more intense light would streak, like searchlights, across the scene from radio, TV and radar towers. If these phantom lights left their marks as colour stains we would, no doubt, have been more cautious about intruding them into the environment and our lives.” – Les Dalton

I got a few minutes to check out ACMI yesterday, but nowhere long enough. The theme is sight. I was just about to leave as a piece showing on one of the larger screens rolled credits: to Van McCoy’s discoruisy “Do The Hustle” was footage of airliners crashing – and no not twin towers –man that whole thing really stuffed things up, after that I couldn’t tell people I really dug watching footage of planes crashing without being chased from the building. I mean – that german airshow one where it just didn’t get high enough and trimmed a bunch of connifers with its wings, disappeared from view and reappeared as a fireball. Or the one where they deliberately crashed one for safety and fun.

^ ^ ^ ^

Uhuh, I feel like I should explain the superwhite link. Before crizmaz listening to the radio – a wrap up and snippets of interviews from the year of a show I don’t listen to. I heard a song by this guy Jim White, on David Byrne’s label – it didn’t stand out at all. But then he was talking about how he was once talking to this friend, a black woman about how some whiteys try be black thru wearing clothes and affectations and it only made them look pathetic, so Jim White says that he thinks he can attain some kind of blackness through being really really white. So, you’re going to be ‘superwhite’ huh? He replies, yes. And thinks, who is the epitome of really really white? Some nervous, skinny awkward fella… like David Byrne — and Jim resolves that if he ever sees David Byrne, he’ll yell Superwhite! out at him.
Some time later Jim White is living in new york city, doing the Travis thing: mohawk, driving taxi –and while prowling around in the cab, happens to see Byne walking on the foot path. He crusies up alongside and yells, hollers “Superwhite!” but gets no reaction.
Then, some time later someone sends Jim White’s demo tape to LuakaBop and eventually Jim white ends up sitting in a room with david byrne being told that they’d like to sign him.

It was a great story – funny, well told. The kind of thing that’d make me go back and have another listen to the music.
As opposed to another interview – with the guy from Smog – which was terrible. He didn’t want to be talking at all, but couldn’t be botherd actually saying so.

^ ^ ^ ^

I can’t believe some hippy chick from the ‘hood bought my couch. No tv here now either – sitting on the floor with piles of trash on the floor and a mattress, also on the floor. Feels like squatting.

dadada dada da, dadada dada da, da da, da

– The only good elton john song is that ‘for guy’ song. If I had a band I’d cover it – either guitars or electronic would work. It’d also be great to commit suicide to.

– I spoke too soon about the zip on my jeans – it’s really stuffed. O why hast thou forsaken me? I got some more jeans from an op-shop today.

– My sloth bites me on the arse, ass, airse. I think after this, it’ll be a standing policy that when I’m moving out of a rented place, I’ll just runaway before the final inspection and deal with what ever negative-karma comes from it.

– I didn’t mention it here, but several months ago I had a convo with exgirlfriend jean who was still in East Timor. If it’d been an instant message to-and-fro it would’ve looked like this:

Exg/f jean: I met Xanana today. All I could think of was I’m standing here talking to the president, wearing flip-flops.
And well… Guess What?! I’m pregnant! I found out a few months ago and am due in late March. What do you think?
esquimaux pie: Hey wow. That’s great. I’m really happy for you.
Say, when you spoke too Xanana, did you happen to mention my icecream sundae idea to him. Because, y’know, if he’d be willing to appear in a tv ad we could cut him in for a nice chunk of the earnings.
Exg/f jean: wtf?

Ah, not really — if it’d been an IM conversation the punctuation would’ve not been anywhere near as thorough as that.
But I remember once on KUI reading about how there’s all these euphemisms in English; up the duff, in the family way, bun in the oven, knocked up, eating for two, exhibiting signs of man-juice infection and so on (I wish I could think of some more – they’re great) while in France it’s simply kown as being pregnant.
Am having lunch with xg/fJ tomorrow. I’m secretly hoping she eats all the food in the restaurant and they have to close the restaurant. I am happy for her though.

like a little shining full-stop in the clouds

The Red Shoes

: Do you have Red Shoes and do you love them more than anything else including god, your feet, telling the truth and going to church? If so, take a picture and send it in along with a little anecdote or explanation and help us celebrate Red Shoes-love.
But why stop there? If you see someone on the street wearing Red Shoes, don’t be shy! Go ask them for a foto of their fabbo footwear. What a great way to make friends 🙂
Send to: yaksox@gmail.com

* * *

Exit-Bowl — If you want to come along, this friday arvo around three at the Northcote Bowlarama – because I’m leaving the continent.

* * *

Y’know, I lost my 2dollar sunnies at the festival, and the fly zipper on my jeans got wrecked. I got my undies caught in it. I had to walk around the whole two days with it middle-positioned so it didn’t look so obvious.
Yesterday while getting a load of washing together I was looking at them in a sorrowful beat kind of way, like Chewbacca in Empire… when he’s examining the ripped apart bits of C3-PO. I mused to myself that what if I wished or prayed really hard then maybe they’d fix up — what if I stress. I dragged the zippy bit right down to the bottom then tried bringing it up again, and lo! – it worked.

I don’t know why, but I feel unusually unaffected by the tsunami situation. Why is is that one person can be really torn up inside about it and the next feel nothing? I don’t know. I don’t feel nothing. I feel something. I’m not watching much news lately which may have something to do with it.
Does it matter that the reasoning doesn’t follow conventional logic – where good things can be attributed to *a* god, but bad things – well that’s just life.
And even at the point of death – if those people realised that everything would be alright for them and they were being delivered into something else greater or whatever — I could totally understand if they were still a bit sad about going — because maybe they had some project on the go that would’ve been good to finish, like a jigsaw puzzle.

the RIP special

Maybe a month ago now that cat of mum’s went walkabout and didn’t come back. Every cat has its foil; food, sex, drugs, roughhousing, hunting et cetera and this one’s was definitely food. We guess it probably ate somethin’ it shouldn’t have and died in a field. Either that or it got abducted by aliens. Or maybe it was an alien and was homesick.
Y’know there’s this theory based on how a lot of stuff – like cultivatable grains and veges etc. came about too quickly when measured up against what the evolution-science-mafia mob say. “Oh, selective planting huh? Yeah right.” – that’s what the ‘intelligent design’ people say. They’re not creationists, more along the lines of the earth was seeded by a more ancient race.

I don’t know if they’re right but when I look at a lot of mammals they seem so odd and different and I fancy they each came from different planets, like a horse planet, seal and dog planets, cow planet and definitely an elephant planet.
One day a long time ago, 1970s and ancient Egypt, cats in their flying saucer came into orbit and scanned the planet. They looked at the humans and knew that if they wanted to, they could come live here because they knew the humans were partial to soft, furry mostly floppy things. So they did. “We Go Where We Please” – that’s their motto.

Also, the little dog that I claimed was a stock photo of a little dog in this post wasn’t. It was actually a friend’s little dog. About two months ago it got mauled by a larger dog. He loved that little dog, he’d pick it up and nurse it like the Duchess and the baby pig.

My mum was dropping sis off at the train station and there were these scungy kittens running around the joint. My sis said chase it get it or something like that but they didn’t. Mum tried not to sqwash any when leaving the station — and she didn’t — but when she pulled up at the servo she looked around and there was the same kitten. Just like Sideshow Bob, as she rightly pointed out, it’d somehow attached itself to the bottom of the beat-up beat-down ’85 volvo stationvagen. Ma took this to be a sign and took the kitten home. It’s ugly as all fuck, apparently.

Best christmas song that nobody ever plays: another lonely christmas by Prince.

I would do one of those best albums of the year thingies except that I don’t remember if I’ve actually listened to any albums that were made this year. When it comes to figuring that stuff out it’s like I’m permanently on drugs. I just found out I had Neil Young’s Harvest Moon on LP – I don’t know how long it’s been there.
It probably wasn’t made this year, but it did make quite an impression on me — Richard Cheese‘s Lounge Against the Machine album. I mention this because I surprise myself that I like it, I mean, I’d sooner stab myself iin the ear drums than listen to Limp Bizkit, Blink 182 or Offspring — but the reinterpretation of their songs in a caberet style impresses me in a way that I could really make sound good if I could only remember all that academic jive lingo I learnt in communication studies.

It’s just very catchy and singable. If I had to get up and do a kareoke number, I’d sing the dick cheese version of Guerilla Radio.

Well, it’ll sound a lot better coming out of Paul Anka.

Well it’s just been a fucking madhouse around here of late so team sunny breaks unfortunately can’t be offering the usual level of carefully planned caustic wit n’ bleak humour.
Been packing stuff and trying to flog off some. Does anyone wanna buy my desktop computer – it’s got everything, 1000megahertz never driven above 766. I sold some of the more pulpy books that hadn’t come out of boxes since the last move and have come to the conclusion that 2nd hand bookshop proprietors are nothing more than glorified (glory! glory!) pawnshop scuzzballs.

My buddy Obs is going to take over my paper route. You’d never think that a guy who’d lived under a vow of silence for 4 years would be interested in that job, but it just goes to show, it’s no ordinary paper run. He came along the other morning which was heaps of fun. After the fourth week of doing it I could’ve done it sleepwalking ie. plenty of time to think, and I’ often thought about what kind of tips I’d pass on to an apprentice re the art and technique of slotting.

I’ve been in this ‘enjoy the stuff I’ll miss’ over-compensation thing and have been listening to old LPs.
Team Sunny Breaks’ man on the ground in S.Korea emailed the other day and said that he won’t be able to meet me at the airport “because it’s too much of a hassle”. I started to kirk out way ahead of time about the thought of getting on the wrong fucking bus or something. The old noggin’s been whirring and at night it don’t stop. Always trains — whenever life speeds up I get train dreams. And this weird helicopter one: a police helicopter lands in my parents’ yard — then it’s actually a police woman in uniform with a cap on that had rotors and controls sticking out of it. She was having a hard time getting relaunched because of wind shear and a tight window above due to power lines so the whole family gives her a boost into the air.

And then I wake up and the record player in my brain cues up ‘puppy love’ by Paul Anka. Crikey! I haven’t listend to these things in three or more years, why now? It’s just throwing me more out of kilter. Although I do like You Are My Destiny.

narcolepsy and doormouse

I bought an older apple laptop yesterday, like the one in this picture. It’s mostly okay. It took all day for them to give to me — applebits.net.au isn’t quite worth linking to because there’s no damn modem port in the side of the thing – wha?! You know where you put that phone jack/plug, with the little hinge and it makes that satisfying *snib* sound — there’s just a hole where there should be a socket that helps make a snibby sound. It’s got an airport card in it (wireless thingy) but now that I think about it, I don’t think there’s a single coffeeshop/food joint in Geelong that has wireless usage for patrons.
Let me tell you, I can think of a few better places to spend the day wandering around than Oakleigh in Melbourne’s south-east.
I’m sure the modem port thing was just a simple ommision but it means I’ve got to go back there and at the thought of that I say, “Baby Goats!”.

Just for the record, there was absolutely nothing wrong with the last webhost S.Breaks was at, Zainy, it’s just that HostCentral has helped me get a significant way toward the the point of this website being financially self-sufficient and for this I am grateful. Now if only it could write itself (via Dabs) then I could forget about it completely.

Part of the reason for my lack-lustreness for hoiking up a bunch of links to stuff is because of the StumbleUpon, www.stumbleupon.com, toolbar thing. It takes the effort and value out of presenting a bunch of obscure seeming topics. Because how do you know that I spent hours clicking around google, finding the most relevant, wacky site on a particular esoteric thing, of if I’ve just dribbled on the stumbleupon.

In this case, the latter — the stanford prison experiment, was one of about six psychology experiments done in the 20Cent. which supposedly went beyond what’s ethically good, but at the same time, these are the same ones that lecturers can’t stop yammering about. They get excited and froth up talking about them, then at the end of the rave they say, ‘but of course we could never repeat this today because of our strict moral and ethical standards and codes and committees’ … blah blah blah.
And you just know that in some underground base somewhere, they’re doing experiments that are ten times as hardcore.

Prisoner 8612 is a bad prisoner!

acumulated notes

There was this French movie with either Jean Reno or Gerard Depp-ar-dew in it, I can’t remember which. It was probably the ‘inspiration’ for the Highlander movies. Because Jean or Gerard was a medeval knight who’d been transported the the present day, along with a retainer; that is, a little man with coconut shells who’d run along behind.
Every now and then my mind returns to this one scene where they’re in a bathroom, looking at a toilet, kneeling over it trying to figure out what it’s for. Jean/Gerard puts a hand in, scoops up some water and drinks it.
And I wonder to myself what were the details to that… was it cleaned extra, extra extra thoroughly before the scene? Perhaps they installed a completely new toilet that’d never been used before drunk from..? Even if it’d been cleaned 20 times with the most abrasive chemicals known to humanity I think there’d still be some residue of shit in there. Is that part of the hazards of being an actor, even a succussful hollyweird-style one?

I still haven’t found any interesting links. The internet just got boring or something. I’m not holding out on you, if I had some, I’d say.

I’m reading the Richard F. Burton annotated and translated version of Tales form the Arabian Nights, selected from ‘The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night’. I’ve been reading it for 4 years off and on — it’s huge and extremely convoluted. Nice book – hardback and the typeface is very fancy. My scanner’s busted at the moment or I’d offer up some.

This bit is from the editor’s forward, “Burton’s qualifications as a translator of the Nights were formidable, not only because of his extensive knowledge of Arabic (he was also fluent in Persian and Hindustani, not to mention several lesser Eastern languages and dialects) but because of his extrodinary personality. In 1853 he successfully made a pilgrimage disguised as as Afghanistan Muslim to Cairo, Suez, and Medina then on to the sacred city of Mecca, where he measured and sketched the mosque and holy Muslim shrine, the Ka’bah.
His account of the journey is not only a classic of English travel literature but also a brilliant commentary of Muslim life and manners. No enterprise could have born more powerful testimony to his knowledge of Eastern customs and beliefs than the expidition he later made to the forbidden East African city of Harer (1854-55) as he became the first European to enter this Muslim citadel without being executed.”

Sometimes it gets a bit bogged down reading, and you have to stick in active mode rather than passive reading because of the footnotes leading off in different directions – but most of the time they’re interesting.
Poignant to read place names like ‘Bassorah’ and Mosul as the backdrop to stories given the reasons why they’d be recognised today.
More info here.

“Because, it, sucks!”

Got a small job delivering the local free music newspaper around town. Me n’ this other guy nick in a little white van. He’s almost exactly like the quieter, snaggier of the two shop assistants in High Fidelity. Did everything except mention Belle & Sebastian.
Got to drive into the Ford (car) compound which was mildly interesting.

I don’t have much in the way of interesting links lately, apart from it’s funny how the seemingly innocent phrases, “mmm, that’s perfect” and “mmm, perfect” produce such a high rate of filth.

Re america what time is love? it’s a bit of a shame — I can’t say too much because the public here did the same thing. Maybe if the voting system there wasn’t so slabby and a little more proportional then the result might’ve (definitely would’ve) been different. And while both incumbents here and there presented a fear-boogieman, the one here – higher interest rates seemed more plausible than there; saying Kerry changes his mind. Since when was changing your mind such a weakness?

Get a big black dog up ya!


Been down in the country lifting things, a little whipper-snippering and teaching big ears to print digital images, which I can safely say would be more exhausting than a whole day of chainsawing. Man there’s a lot of throat-clearing goes on in that household. At one stage we were in the laundry fixing a washing machine. Bigs was under it, grunting away with a spanner, I was leaning against it, keeping it tilted over and just absent-mindedly glancing around the room. I got to gazing at a bunch of bras on top of a washing-basket pile and thinking something like how it’d been a long time since I’d seen bras lying around like that.
Sometimes the women in that family seem so odd to what I know that it’s like they’re from another planet. They’re so girly-girl-girl, but at the same time, in a way that’s hard to knock. Maybe it’s just a country thing — women do women-things and men do men-things.

There’s three girls who I mostly knew as little angel-haired kids – 12 or 15 years ago. Now they’re grown/growing up, as tall as me, still all-blonde and really attractive but all straight as straight can be. Not a rebellious bone amongst ’em. It’s like their parents are sweden: not Cuba but still fairly progressive and so, there’s never gonna be an uprising of the working-class in sweeden, and those girls ain’t never gonna get into [insert stuff that’s offensive to the older generation].

Hey how’s this for a nice troll. I didn’t even realise I was doing it, I just spouted off this email to one of the free community papers: “Less Flouride, More Apples — Page 8, (News, October 13) tooth decay in Geelong kids, page 10, kid eating fatty, sugar-filled doughnut. Join the dots. We don’t need flouride, we need to be encouraging kids to eat apples, not doughnuts. If the Make-a-Wish foundation had any conscience regarding kids’ health, they wouldn’t be accepting public relations-driven donations from American franchises like Doughnut King. Do we want our kids to be as fat as American kids?”

I didn’t bother to look to see if it’d been printed, I thought it was too crazy. But one of the dance-gang members said they saw it. I don’t know how I managed to fit in trashing so many with so few words: flouride, DK, americans, fat kids, fat american kids, franchises and the make-a-wish foundation. Go me. I even squeezed in my own ‘Eat More Apples’ agenda. Although it comes off as sounding like flouride actually does help teeth, when it doesn’t. It’s rat poison.
I think there’s some potential there to get up on the board, become a raconteur/marching-mob leader surfing a wave of discontent — the answer to everything being the scapegoating of fat people.