Friday, 29 June 2007

Why am I here?

Well, that got off to a good start. I brainfarted something out for my first proper post, and got a comment from the exquisite but slightly oddways Mist1 (I'll figure out how to embed links later - it's Friday afternoon and I'm over it. She's in the sidebar. Who am I talking to? She's my only reader.) I was all like "WTF?" and she was like "Protractor, huh? That's cool..." and I was like "No, seriously, like, WTF?" and she was all "Just take a breath" and I was totally like, something, or, whatever.

Anyway, it wasn't expected. And it's actually sort of buggered things up. Cos I had it all worked out. I was going to blog quietly, starting small, just writing about things that I find interesting, or that may or may not have happened to me. I was prepared to toil diligently, saving snippets of stories and sagas to slide smoothly into prose. I was willing to suffer for my art. I hoped to get noticed by some of the people in my small collection of links, most likely through clicking on my name above a comment that I had left on their pages in a subtle but sophisticated spot of self-promotion. I expected this to take time - I envisaged months of solitary composition before one day finding a little nugget of communication from someone reaching out to say "Hello! I'm here too! You're not working in vain! And stop leaving those bloody comments on my blog - they're not funny and they're not clever!"

But now I've got a comment. Two, in fact (not counting mine, cos that'd be sort of self-referential and a bit sad). Where do I go from here? This may present a problem. I started this to practise writing. Having comments is a bonus. I have this idea that it would be better to write a great book and have no readers than to write something shite and sell millions of them. Of course, Dan Brown might disagree. Anyway, now I've received instant gratification. And I've got a feeling that these little buggers could get addictive. Constant vigilance! That's what I need. And the new Harry Potter. I need that too.

So I'm on my guard, all you sneaky... reader... you. And don't think I'm letting your attention, flattering as may be, go to my head. I've got a plan. Options. Stragety and tictacs. And I'm watching you. I don't need your validation - I'm in this for the art!

Hey Mist1, can you let me know if this post is any good? Cheers.

Thursday, 28 June 2007

Where did I go? Why do you care?

It seems like a good time to do another entry - if this page was a child DHS would have taken it off me by now. I'll try to pay better attention to its literary needs, run the spell check over it regularly and give it a dose of grammar if it's feeling a bit under the... um... server? This analogy is working about as well as a fish wearing a... Well, let's just say it's shite. Note to self - work on analogies.

It's time for a holiday. My Girl and I are looking at wandering away for a long weekend - a full-blown mini-break! (Bridget was such a twat in the second movie - what the hell did they think they were doing? Dickheads.) Maybe up to Sydney, maybe to Queensland - not sure yet. There's lots of people to catch up with and get delightfully sloshed with. Or perhaps just smashed. I think the difference between sloshed and smashed has nothing to do with the amount of alcohol - it's all in the levels of exuberance and geniality that someone displays under the influence - it's the difference between nodding off and passing out. Between hurling in the front yard and on the dance floor. Nature plus nurture plus alcohol equals extreme concentration to avoid looking too drunk, or not caring how drunk you are. Regardless, both can lead to vom vom.

In general, sloshed = genial and slightly restrained ("Maybe it's not such a good idea to fall asleep in the toilet. Ooh, that couch looks comfy..."). Smashed = unrestrained and wildly exuberant (Jaysus I love you. I love you. You're so pretty..." *wipes mouth* "Sorry 'bout your shoes..." *falls over*).

The exception to this rule would be goon - I don't think it's possible for anyone to be elegantly drunk after four litres of chateau cardboard. Especially if drunken from a spinning clothesline. Goon of Fortune! Where's Baby John when you need him?

The difference between the two can also be measured using a protractor. An average lean greater than 15 degrees from vertical = smashed. Less = sloshed. If you find yourself hovering around the 15 degree mark, you may be in the curious transitional zone known as smoshed. This boundary layer is the region in which you may find yourself elegantly stumbling, and holding entirely rational conversations with people who cannot understand a word you are saying because of the slurring. You'll notice, but you won't care. It's a lovely state - trouble, like a bird, flies away. It returns later and attacks you in a phone booth (as Hitchcock foresaw), but it's a lovely state, all the same. It is my goal to reach and prolong this state on Saturday during a winery tour around Echuca.

And away we go...

Wednesday, 13 June 2007



Now that's just pathetic.



That's a bit sad, really.