God - She Rides a Vespa

For somebody who has no strong religious beliefs, it' surprising how often my mind turns to things of a spiritual nature.

A few years ago, I resided in the lovely suburb of Glebe. I had an apartment on Bay Street, next door to the Broadway Shopping Centre and within observational distance of the tower where those two people were spotted shagging the other day. I also overlooked Greek Street, a narrow road that was more of an alleyway than anything else and was used mainly for drunks to urinate/vomit/swear at the top of their voices in. It was also where the church of Scientology has a branch, and I was constantly disappointed to not see Tom Cruise or John Travolta walking down the street headed for a meeting. Each evening, the scientologists would come back from goodness knows where in buses all dressed identically. They seemed happy enough and there was a broad cross section of age and race amongst their ranks. In some ways, I quite liked them as they seemed to have some sort of purpose in their lives and refrained from bothering me when I would be in transit to/from the pub to wet my whistle. I was a happy man living a reasonably reserved life amongst a throng of activity.

Religion, I feel is a very personal choice that we all have to consider at some stage. What you choose to believe (or not) will have an effect on your life either directly or indirectly. The key though is to ensure that whatever decision you make, it is your decision. It's also important to ensure that a healthy respect is afforded to other people's rights to believe whatever they like. I may think that someone's religion is misguided, but I'll defend their right to follow it.

For me personally, there have been times where I would have classified myself as an atheist. I don't anymore, as I feel it cuts off too many options. I've always been rather keen on options, and believe it is healthy to keep the mind open to different possibilities. I don't feel that any specific choice needs to be made, and I have no intention of doing so. Instead, I maintain a curiosity in the various faiths and try to take something from them all. I must stress that sometimes what I take is not necessarily positive and as I cheesily included in my bio for this blog, the beautiful and the ugly are equally important.

It's hopefully through a continued interest in the faiths that I can develop a better understanding of the people that follow them. Perhaps then this is my personal religion, a type of humanism.

Amen to that.

Superfluous Pants and the Technofear

When did modern technology become so rude?

Let's set the scene. Arriving back at my apartment after a day of work, the humidity and heat made my workclothes uncomfortable and clingy. I hate them really, the shirt that rubs my neck and the god-awful pants that never seem to sit comfortably. No sooner had the door slammed behind me than the work duds were dispensed with and I stood, pantsless, before my wardrobe wondering where my comfortable denim shorts were hiding. Alas, the whole transformation was done in haste and (again) I had failed to draw the window blind and had unwittingly revealed my nakidity upon the world outside my window (which is a bloody big window mind). Squealing in a decidedly non-masculine tone, I quickly saved my blushes covering up my naughty bits (yes that's right, nipples) with my hands and leaping behind an adequately sized pot plant (which was almost dead and rather small, sadly). Peculiar fantasies raced through my mind of the inhabitants in the womens fitness centre across the road seeing this spectacle and being overcome with lust. The truth being more that the viewing would be motivation enough to keep working hard to avoid looking like I. Who cares, what's wrong with naked!

Now suitably clad, I wandered down to the local shops in search of sustenance. This is usually a nightly journey as my fridge is used mainly for inedible substances. The other day I found a spare set of keys, a Jimi Hendrix CD, and a packet of chewing gum in there. Oh yeah, well what do you keep in YOUR fridge then? Yeah well, ok that does sound pretty good then being food and all. Anyway, at the shops I got what I wanted (something in a can to eat, something in a can to drink) and proceeded to one of the self-serve checkouts that are fairly new. You know the one's, where you scan the items yourself receiving nothing from the attendant other than a contemptuous sneer as you fumble about. I actually don't mind these as it is better than being served by the person who appears to be about to give up on life and bring a machine gun into work with them. The problem is that when you have finished the scanning and paid, the voice from the machine emits a firm "please take your items!" which is only one level up from "we have your money, our interest in you is now extinguished, please go away!". Rude.

Even in my home it doesn't end. Last night I was doing some things on my computer when it all of a sudden popped up a message saying a windows update had occurred and required to be shutdown and restarted. I was right in the middle of something for goodness sake. I leapt to my feet, pantsless, and shaking a finger at the screen exclaimed "You swine, how dare you!". I was then distracted when I noticed my window blind was up. Rude.

At 6:10AM this morning the shrill of the alarm broke my slumber with all the subtlety of electrodes on testicles just when I was in the middle of a terrifying nightmare about electrodes on testicles. Furious, I leapt from my bed, pantsless yet wearing a small beret on my head..... why, I hear you ask? Because it was time to get up.... oh the beret.... because I went to bed after dark and because there was no light outside I usually don't lower the blind. The beret can quickly be used to recover my modesty. It's up here for thinking, down there for dancing. And you thought it was going to be something weird and perverted didn't you? Honestly, where is your mind!

So, what all this means is that I feel modern technology needs some decent manners. The self-checkout should thank you and wish you a pleasant day. Your PC should gently enquire if it would be allright to shutdown and restart. The morning alarm should wake you by saying "psst! uhm excuse me but you really should be getting up if that's allright with you". And the system generated form letter from the local council tersely warning you that indecent exposure is a crime should instead be more understanding of the complexities associated with window blind operation and the pantsless man.

Here endeth the ramble.

The Hands that Built the Blog

As suggested in a previous post, may I present my hands. The first image is called "The Right to Reality", the second "The Left to Life".

Cheese Is My Favourite Fruit

What? Hold on there Dan, what on earth are you talking about?

Taking a few steps back, it is probably prudent to explain my gastronomic "weakness", which I incorrectly call a weakness because it is actually something I'm pleased to have. We all have certain foods in our lives that hold a special place and transcend the role of simply providing nutritional fuel. There is something else going on, something almost indescribable and illogical, but obviously very important. For many it is chocolate, seafood, or something else that sparks the culinary senses.

For me it is - cheese.

Now, let me try to explain what I mean by the title of this post, as many people would want to point out my error (uhm, if they read this blog ofcourse). When you bite into a piece of quality fruit, there is the sensation of what I refer to as the "burst", a pop of the skin that releases the juice and flavour. Cheese, in my opinion has a similar characteristic. Placed on the tongue, it sits inanimate. But as soon as the molars begin their crush, the tongue begins to explore the texture and confront the flavour, the "burst" ignites.

The other day, I indulged in some aged New Zealand cheddar. A dense, crumbly textured cheese, it had a burst that I could feel in my spine, and gave me a pleasant headache which lasted about two seconds (I'm guessing this was the pleasure chemicals being released from my brain). I had no choice but to express my delight with a rapturous "mmmmm". I ate a few pieces, and the amazing thing is that each piece was better than the last. I think my tastebuds adjusted their sensitivities to take best advantage and the suspense leading up to the next piece was wonderfully fulfilled. This was living in the moment, attention being placed on doing nothing but enjoying deliciousness and the buzz of what I presume must be dopamine lovingly injected into my bloodstream by my brain.

There's no doubt that an excessive amount of cheese is no good for anyone, and I actually have excellent skills to ensure I don't over-indulge. Actually, I think it is good to self-deny to an extent as it seems to intensify the experience, it makes it special and heightens the enjoyment. There is also the side benefit that cheese actually does have many nutritional qualities.

A food that is good for you and delicious = Joy!

The Beautiful Shades of Grey

A little while ago I watched the screenplay adapted from Frank Miller's graphic novels "Sin City". It got me to thinking about the use of black and white imagery and how much I enjoy pictures that use it effectively. I also was curious about the use of limited splashes of colour in the imagery.

Attached is a picture I zapped up tonight. Tools used were a 5 year old Kodak digital camera set for a closeup, Picasa for image manipulation, and a willing model who worked for no pay (yours truly) so as you can see a limited budget was in place for the project. Twenty images were taken with this one selected. It took about 10 minutes from click to "that'll do". I chose the eye and eyebrows as the subject because I find them the most interesting (windows to the soul and all that stuff, right?) and it's actually a little unnerving looking at it now. The furrowed brow indicating the scepticism and cynicism, the disorganised hairs of the eyebrow a reflection of the mind behind it, the slightly drooping eyelid betraying my laziness, while the cooling blue of the iris gives a sense of control to all this negativity. Anyway, I'm sure this is not an original project but I shall call the image "Blue Mine Eye". Criticisms gladly accepted in the spirit they are offered.

But, back to the issue of proper black and white imagery. Take for instance just about any of the black and white photo's of James Dean cityscapes (a favourite can be found here). They ooze cool and sophistication from every pixel (digital photo ofcourse). Not only the main character but the gritty scenery that surrounds him. The shadows and reflections sizzle and melt like thick molasses. I'm not sure if I want to be like James Dean or replace him in those scenes.

Envy, pure envy.

The Transit of the Mobile Phone Ignoramus

Blessed was I to pay another visit to the township of the new today after my rambles of the previous week. The reason? A chance to meet some accomplished affiliates of the blogosphere. But, it so nearly wasn't so.

To one stumbling accidentally upon this blog and not quick enough to strike the "back" option in their browser after realising their blunder, the author's primary mode of transport would seem obvious. But obvious it was not today, instead it was what fellow Vespa riders would refer to as "being a bitch of a thing" and not cooperating with forward propulsion on command. My relationship with my Vespa is similar to a mad dictator with his subjects and disobedience is not tolerated. Undeterred, I hoofed it down to my local train station, only to find the connection to my destination not being serviced by said transport, instead resulting in a jarring and sometimes dangerous bus ride to get me to my desired terminus.

I had arrived and felt confident the hurdles had been leaped, and a dive into conversation and iced coffee (hold the cream) would soon be underway. Alas, through poor planning and dare I say an arrogant attitude as to my knowledge of the area, I found myself located where the arranged meeting place was not. Clueless, I weighed up the options which consisted of throwing myself to the ground and bursting into tears or calling one of the affiliates. A cool head prevailed, and I took the tearless option. With a friendly "look across the road (git!)" I spotted the waving confederates.

The iced coffee was delicious, the company enjoyable. I made valuable contributions to the meeting by demonstrating my ridiculous inability use my mobile phone skillfully, the plight of Greek accordian music at 2:30 in the morning, and how to drink iced coffee without spilling it down the front of oneself (miracle!).

In an extraordinary display of forward planning (by my substandards anyway) I have already decided that next weekend I shall be visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art on the harbour and giving another one of my rambles about the experience. Perhaps if I take my laptop, and write the ramble while inside the MCA I may personally qualify as a piece of performance art. Surely this has been done before, and I will have learned types referring to me as "derivative". I've been called worse!

The Devil's Work for Idle Hands - iMacsturbation

I may have rambled in a previous post (find one which is rambless, and I'll give you a prize) about being a geek and totally out of touch with all that is fashionable and valued by real people. I may have also mentioned that it is an impossibility for me to step foot inside the Apple store on George Street here in Sydney and not drool like a mental patient at the goodies therein. Very embarrassing, but I guess we each have our weaknesses.

So it was that recently I have had to declare those loveable bastards at Apple a pack of swines, as they revealed a line up of new iMacs that seemed to be specifically designed to turn the screws on my junky like tendancies for this sort of thing. They are beautiful things, designed to work as good as they look. For 1600 knicker they are pretty well priced. The problem is, I don't actually need one. I have a perfectly functional PC that although it's a little old does the job with aplomb and does everything I need it to do. But I want one.... badly.

Whenever I look into potential purchases such as these I have a tendancy to do my homework rather well. The first issue that strikes me is the financial outlay that would be required. Through a staggering example of bad planning, my father is not the Sultan of Brunei or some other such person of equal wealth. This has meant the 1600 clams required for said purchase would need to be sourced from my personal income. Unfortunately, as that is limited and has many other strains imposed upon it, some economic juggling at master accountancy levels would certainly be required. When I consider that my Doc Martins are just about worn through the sole, my jeans are developing a "distressed" look that is genuine, and my vacuum cleaner is just about to explode, you can see why I have doubts about this being a wise decision.

Secondly, the purchase would go against a plan I was developing. You will shake your head in disbelief when I mention that in order to force myself to limit time in front of the computer, I replaced an old chair with a stool for sitting on. The idea was that it would become uncomfortable after 10-15 minutes and force me to walk away for a while. It actually worked too and I hate that stool with a passion. If I get a new iMac, I won't want to have to put up with that and the bad old habits return.

Thirdly, and probably most important... Dan get a life ! Yeah, go on say it, I know anyone reading this is thinking it.

I guess spending money and time on things that one doesn't need is not uncommon. I just seem to really enjoy wasting time on silly things I guess.

Newtown.... Trippin' Out On You

Indulging in perambulations down King Street in the locality of Newtown yesterday and also venturing down Enmore Road, I surveyed a locale teeming with a conglomeration of intense tribalism, casual indifference, wealth, poverty, sophistication, inelegance, and one or two examples of very advanced people who had decided all of these ingredients were to be tossed into the mix for their broiled persona. I was once told by a local resident that this part of Sydney is where you go "to NOT get away from it all". How true.

I actually considered establishing a residence in or very near Newtown at one stage. I used to scoot through on my way home from work each day and the wafting smells of curries, the commotion, the ne'er do well that seemed to always evacuate obscenities in my direction as I rode past, and the manicured goths (who I consider exceedingly interesting) always advertised the area as a place for living. It was mainly a financial decision that denied me the outcome and hence I finally found shelter a metaphorical stones throw away.

When I'm on these excursions, I have a stupid habit of not looking where I am going. If you see someone walking the footpath dressed unfashionably looking all about the place except in the direction of his travels, feel free to assertively request the chap to "look where your going!" as the chances of it being me are high and I won't take offence. As it was yesterday walking along Enmore Road I spotted the large sign for the upcoming B-52's gig at the Enmore Theatre. Foolishly lifting my feet insufficiently with each stride, I stubbed my right hoof and indulged in an unrehearsed performance of interpretive dance I call "Silly Man Trying Not to Fall Over". Applause and praise were not forthcoming, instead a muffled expression of hilarity was heard. I couldn't be sure where it emanated from and had brief pause to consider that God did exist and she had a sense of humour. I soon discovered the source was a scraggly little man dressed even more shabbily than I, nursing a bottle in a brown paper bag.

"Look where your going buddy!", he suggested helpfully. Wise words indeed.

I decided to recharge my batteries in case further artistic expressionism was required at a cafe the name of which has escaped me. Being a fairly warm day I ordered my personal yardstick for cafe quality:

"I'll have a regular iced coffee please"
"Certainly, would you like cream with that?"
"No, just the iced coffee please. Oh, can I also have one of those mini cheesecakes too please"
"Yes, would you like cream with that?"
"No thankyou"

I do hope I haven't accidentally made a faux pas in Newtown cafe culture. Perhaps it is rude to consume things that don't have a dollop of canned squirty cream on the side. Perhaps they thought I could do with the calories....to add to the other one's.

Deliciously satisfied, I headed for the train station, which set me to thinking of a solution to the graffiti problem plaguing Sydney. It seems to me that much of the wall art around Newtown is surprisingly free of graffiti. It seems there is a degree of unspoken agreement that they need no further adornment. However, Sydney trains represent a blank canvas, screaming out for expression. I bet if artists were given the opportunity to express themselves on the rolling stock the desire to graffiti the trains would reduce due to lack of effect.

But then I always were a dreamer.... and a tripper.... and an iced coffee sipper.

This is Meme, all Meme, and Nothing But Meme

A kind invitation by the Baroness of all things boot-worthy for the blogging world to participate in a meme had me scrambling to participate in an obvious exhibition of me tooism. I should be held accountable for my answers and if anybody was to think worse of me for them it would be unsurprising. Let's begin:

Where is your cell phone? Unsure.

Your hair? Frustrating.

Your mother? Concerned.

Your father? Unconcerned.

Your favorite food? Savoury's.

Your dream last night? Shoeless.

Your favorite drink? Iced-Coffee

Your dream/goal? Achievement.

What room are you in? Bedroom.

Your hobby? Observation.

Your Fear? Incapacitation.

Where do you want to be in 6 years? Utopia.

Where were you last night? Here.

Something that you aren’t? Savvy.

Muffins? Yum!

Wish list item? Savviness.

Where did you grow up? Adelaide.

Last thing you did? Swam.

What are you wearing? Boxers.

Your TV? Off.

Your pets? Greenering.

Your friends? Scattered.

Your life? Peachy.

Your mood? Relaxed.

Missing someone? Unsure.

Vehicle? Vespa.

Something you’re not wearing? Shoes.

Your favorite store? Apple-Store.

Your favorite color? Red.

When was the last time you laughed? Tonight.

Last time you cried? Unsure.

Your best friend? ...?...

One place that I go to over and over? Fridge.

person who emails me regularly? Spammers.

Favorite place to eat? Pubs.

And that's the way we do that then.