And Nothing Can Be Done.
| 23 September | And Nothing Can Be Done. | fibrous heathen |
This feeling was brought on by the news that the Israeli Army was flattening Yarafat's headquarters, systematically bulldozing it and demanding that all of Arafat's allies be handed over to them... that after invading the West Bank Israelis impose martial law, slapping a blanket curfew on all Palestinians... I asked myself, "Why doesn't somebody do something?" - This is out of hand, but you know why it won't be stopped? You see, this is my epiphany, and while not revolutionary, this time around it's backed up by statistics... You see, while only 3% of Americas citizens identify themselves as Jewish, 10% of the US Congress are Jewish, and the are equally over-represented in all positions of power. Furthermore, the American media is dominated by Jews, and I'm not just talking about Jerry Springer... with these two factors going for them, and a War on Terror that in practise targets Arabs and those of the Muslim Faith (for the moment, anyway) dictators like Ariel Sharon are unstoppable. Just moments ago I watched him speak on television to an audience of "Christians supporting Jewish action in Israel" - he stuttered in front of a bunch of inbred fuckers, waving their American flags maniacally after every sentence... I ask myself what is this?
In the Sunday paper I can read of Saddam Hussein, about how he sleeps at a different palace every night, with another woman who he kills the morning after because of his intense paranoia. His tendency to move between 24 secret locations by night, and his obssessive need to be near water to purify him of his guilty conscience (which no doubt results from all the brutal atrocities he's committed?!) Dear me, the American propaganda machine has stepped forth, into the (reputable publication that is) the Sunday Star Times. When they're not exposing butchers for using unorganic meat, or following up some other "hot lead" they're serving as a publication for the public good, that will one day be hailed as instrumental in destroying the Axis of Evil, no doubt. What for the public opinion? Joe Bloggs who reads this will accept this pathetic journalism as gospel truth, just as he will watch CNN coverage and cheer as another "terrorist-harboring" family home on the West Bank is flattened by tanks... all this leads me to despair,
And Nothing Can Be Done.
Well, the World today is such a wicked thing... beyond what Ozzy Osbourne could have comprehended when he wrote Wicked World, too. How long will it be before another Superpower makes a stand for a hopeless, less-developed country that endures U.S. military sanctions... are there any other Superpowers left? Will equality ever be restored... what has become of Peter Fraser's dream of the United Nations? We face threats far beyond nuclear weapons... and the United States pose most of these threats... why don't we send weapons inspectors there, or was the country just deemed "responsible" by God... the Heavenly Celestial Western Kingdom of Humanity, Democracy and Equality even? Rumination of the Moment™: "Fuck you, I want your balls smashed, eat shit... bastard." Well, I did have a lot of other stuff to rant about, but this entry has just made me progressively more angry, so there shall be no idle banter. Tirah.
| 21 September | What a cruel trick of nature! | Master of the House |
Last night yielded entertainment for all, and to be honest, I had been dreading every moment of it... that might explain me being a little uptight at the start, but a good time was had by all generally... I think. Rather than try and review the travesty that was Austin Powers 3 (Okay, okay, I thought it was pretty good for what it was) or catalogue what happened that night, I thought I might seek closure in the events of last night. One thing I like to tell myself in these sorts of situations, remind myself even, is that a failure of communication has occured. Language has failed us as a medium by which to express our intent, and things simply don't work out the way anyone ever intended them to do. [A clumsy phrase - Ed.] What it did do, however, was introduce me to the smoke-obscured world that is Planet Pool... I imagine most other places like that are very much similar, and there's quite an excitement from being charged to play (yes, it's different from sitting in Matt's basement shooting pool, I'm afraid) with a "charged atmosphere" to boot. A roaring success? Possibly, whatever the case, my return to Verona was far more satisfying (oh we hardly knew ye) and even if it did involve sitting in there arguing until after 1AM, a good time was had by all.
As I said, today has been a particularly social one, with more excitement still to come as I prepare to "head out" on what will undoubtedly be a "wild night". I'll just keep telling myself the two major essays I have due on Friday mean nothing and require no research. Phew! Also significantly improved is my archive section, today doubling in size, and bringing you into the New Year that was 2002... back to the future? I think so.
Excommunication [27 October - 29 October] The first few entries into the Memoirs of a Madman Journal. This was a time when I was struggling to get my journal back on its feet after it had been destroyed in its previous form on my computer. I'd like to think it set a precedent for other entries to follow, but to be blunt it was more just about showing off the extent of my HTML knowledge and "getting things right".
Smells Like Purification [31 October - 18 November] Some might call this the Golden Age of my Journal, but I'd tend to disagree. I mean, it quite nicely documents the end of my career at Auckland Grammar (well, the point leading up to it at least) and probably reflects the thoughts of someone wildly different to the person I am now. I'm quite proud to say it strikes a nice balance between hatred and self-loathing, but probably loses focus a bit when I dare to stray onto my own experiences (what was I thinking?!)
The Happiest Days of Our Lives [20 November - 6 December] A topical reference? I hope not. This angst filled little gem of self-discovery concerns my final days at Auckland Grammar as well as the rather unspectacular period of waiting that occurred before my Bursary French exam. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll blow chunks™.
Got that Festive Feeling [7 December - 9 January] Christmas is a joyous time, is it not? Well, while I start to feel the tremors of what will no doubt be another explosive Christmas (and a happy New Year!) I can only hope it will in no way resemble this "stinker". That's what I get? Whatever the case, this controversial little number is a tour de force (hahaha!) brutal in its honesty, and uncompromising in its ideas.
Well, with that out of the way, I believe the "Mattster" is due any minute, and while I can already feel potential for pandering around, pondering, and achieving nothing on the air, I'm gonna give my "best shot" to this whole night. Rumination of the Moment™: I'm a confident philosopher and life long mate... if you don't believe me you can ask my cat.
| 18 September | Evolve Some Balls! | Karmic Potato |
As I watch international politics unfold, it seems more clear than ever to me that "people" simply aren't interested in avoiding war. I could pull the usual "Oh they want to gain competitive advantages over others through military might", but in the case of the US it can't really be applied... I could claim the whole thing occurred because of mankind's innate evil, but something my (dying, hollow, mindless zombie of a) grandmother said when I attempted to fill her in on world affairs was "Well, I suppose there has to be a war now and then" - strangely profound? Maybe not, but given this is the most intelligible thing she has said in the last year (she is at the shitting herself, pissing herself, truly pitiful end of her life when she can't tell whether she's in pain or not) and after a little consideration, probably bears a great deal of truth... what is war now? Sport? Something for a bit of excitement?
I was thinking of taking the whole "Oh, this vexes me greatly!", love for humanity attitude, but the fact is, I can't deny that the prospect of war ends some of the monotony of everyday life. I could say "Oh, what a grievous waste of human life, what a travesty!", but I won't. You know about as well as I do that human life is worthless. Thank the heavens for the Circle of Fair Karma. Rumination of the Moment™: Evolve some balls! I'm sorry, but it had to be said. For those of you wondering about the lack of content here, well, that will be corrected with the pretty much finished Quest for An Old Hippie Named Sue, but at the moment, I have other concerns to attend to.
| 14 September | Sometimes it is like a Game to Discover | archivisterator |
Today I found out that my slowly decaying grandmother has a broken pelvis... the thing is, she has probably had it for quite some time... I'm doubtful that it will ever heal, but her inability to communicate her own discomfort has allowed us ignorant bliss since she "took a fall" a few weeks ago. While I haven't gone to see her since hearing the news, its probably important I remedy that in due course because (kiss me, you're beautiful, for) these are truly the last days.
Onward goes my mission to archive this diary into neat and concise eras, and tonight I announce the opening and movement of a new section (details to follow). On top of that, I've continued to fix broken picture links (but typos remain for your viewing pleasure) and generally kick things up a notch. Next stop? Well, I was thinking of adding really annoying low-quality looping sound effects to the archived pages, but I'm not sure that I'm ready to inflict such things against innocent readers, and so I can't be accused of having "changed, maaan" I think I'll leave as is... true to the "old order" and all that. Yessum.
A few quick words on Mulholland Drive before I end, simply because (while this movie absolutely defies explanation/analysis) it is fun to speculate about. Without mentioning any critical plot details or anything, all that needs be said is that it is a must see. My 9:10PM showing ran till 11:45PM and it kicked ass... I did hit a yawning fit at one stage, but its reasonably paced (I'd say better than Lost Highway) and has some truly terrifying scenes/images... yes, the sort that'll burn onto your retina and stay there as you try to walk home in the early hours of the morning. Scary? Yeeep, tense as hell, and utterly incomprehensible (can we expect any less from David Lynch?) Whatever the case, I would be more than keen to head along to another session with other people, not because I think I could get any more out of it, but because I crave to feel that "terror" oncemore. I'd say this is the sort of movie I'll be buying on DVD (with deleted scenes and director's commentary!) when I get my chance.
Excommunication [27 October - 29 October] The first few entries into the Memoirs of a Madman Journal. This was a time when I was struggling to get my journal back on its feet after it had been destroyed in its previous form on my computer. I'd like to think it set a precedent for other entries to follow, but to be blunt it was more just about showing off the extent of my HTML knowledge and "getting things right".
Smells Like Purification [31 October - 18 November] Some might call this the Golden Age of my Journal, but I'd tend to disagree. I mean, it quite nicely documents the end of my career at Auckland Grammar (well, the point leading up to it at least) and probably reflects the thoughts of someone wildly different to the person I am now. I'm quite proud to say it strikes a nice balance between hatred and self-loathing, but probably loses focus a bit when I dare to stray onto my own experiences (what was I thinking?!)
Anyway, with that I shall leave you. I actually find myself with quite a few things to say, and little motivation to document them tonight, but with the smell of Spring in the air, I feel it is my duty to draw myself away from Das Komputermachine. Rumination of the Moment™: "God made everything out of nothing, yet the nothingness shines through."
| 11 September | Death and Rebirth | token mourner |
Before I get too "controversial", I should mention that today I arrived back from something of an outstanding Road Trip to the scarcely explored Coromandel. Expect a full report with photos within the next month, but I have to weed through digicam pics/the photos of my colleagues before compiling something truly complete. In the meantime, why don't you check out the newly archived first "Era" of this diary (no longer available on pitas), Excommunication. Admittedly, not all the pictures are broken, but if you keep your eye on it, things should change. Excellent. Rumination of the Moment™: "Twice as sweet as sugar, twice as bitter as salt, and if you get hooked baby, it's nobody elses' fault! (So don't do it!)"
| 31 August | The Heady Feeling of Freedom | eileen |
Nowwwwwwwww, dear diary, putting all my woes, insecurities and stress behind me (this only happens so often, you luck biznatches!) I'm in a state of relative bliss, mid-semester break is here, and with it come hopes for "wild excursions" and a new social dynamic. What could be better? Tomorrow is the last night I'll be working at Bodrum (it's been a "buzzy" 7 months) and I'll be free to "party hard" with all the Young Dudes oncemore. I think, however, there is probably a little bit of stuff I should deal with regarding Bodrum before I simply shut it out of my life. The experience, in general, has rocked. There have been a few hard times, and I think the "ugly, short bastard" incident will deal with that but by the same token I've enjoyed myself immensely and got a lot of valuable experience. I've managed to gain some degree of affluence, which I will again sacrifice in favour of socialising with people my own age. My time at Bodrum has seen every single person that worked there, including the manager, leave (haha, can I claim to have "destroyed" them?) and as the oldest (and most respected, pah!) staff member I feel a great bond with the place... it's prevented me from leaving in the past, which is something I've wanted to do every single time I hear about my friends' crazy adventures, sure I've taken part in some of them, the Mescaline Experiment (pictures still forthcoming) probably being the most entertaining of these, and has taught me something of an individuals responsibility to society (work is for suckers) amongst other things... social skills gained? I guess so, but the sort of interactions I've been having are quite dull for the most part... the life of a waiter is one that requires a keen wit, but also a love for humanity, and if you're only concerned about how you're viewed by others, you tend to avoid going "tete-a-tete" with the more obnoxious of customers... that said for the most part it's been really cool... it's taught me a lot about projecting a false image of myself upon others, and coupled with 12:30 AM Neon Genesis Evangelion on Cartoon Network, it's reminded me of the general unimportance of one's own self image, in favour of recognising the many number of "selves" that exist within the minds of others... not just a duality, but a multiplicity of personalities. Like the Tim Gray existing in the mind of my Mum, the Tim Gray existing in the mind of any friend of mine will be rather different indeed. I'm not denying there exists common elements to these "images of Tim", but people simply get different impressions of people based off their personal experience. To those of you that hate me, or think there is something essentially wrong with "where my heart is", I'm sorry...
Anyway, as this entry gets increasingly cynical/serious, it may be time to "hot foot it" to bed. As much as I would love to go on at length about this theory (relating it very loosely to my Bodrum experiences), tiredness/self-interest now consumes me, and it will not be satiated by sitting here typing crap and listening to feel good Eighties hits... sorry. Rumination of the Moment™: Get higher, baby.
| 27 August | Astro Boy Returns! | in pog form? |
However, one thing I could help but notice throughout the whole experience was the make-up of the gym members… upon my arrival, I was confronted with a “hunk of manmeat”… oh dear… um, well, you get the idea. He was a burly, uncharismatic jock with a terrible lisp that he tried his best to conceal… When I entered the changing rooms, all I noticed was the large number of people wearing absolutely nothing! Personally, I don’t actually see how they manage this, considering that I didn’t once have to remove my underwear to change between gym gear and casual clothing… question mark? As Rob had warned me, there were a large number of men looking out from the shower room down the long hallway into the changing room, full frontal and everything… pretty bizarre. Anyway, while everyone else in the room looked to be trying to stay naked for as long as possible, I slipped my gear on and descended downstairs.
Rather than find myself swimming in a sea of “hot chicks”, the gym membership (or at least the people working out at that particular time) was 95% male. Not only that, but there were many a gym buff with shaved head and shabby moustache waddling back and forth, struggling to keep their hands at their sides. By this stage, I had pretty made up my mind about the “type of people” that frequent this particular gym, but nonetheless I went on with a gym routine, which largely consisted of pulling parts out of Rob’s and Matt’s workouts, and toning them down hugely for my own untrained body… and what a workout it was!
My arms are incredibly sore, and my body fairly much exhausted… from a few paltry sit ups on a novelty “exercise ball” I find my abdominal muscles collapsing in on themselves, every sneeze bringing new excitement… If I can keep this up 3 days a week, I can only imagine the man I shall become… Speaking of which, given my general distrust of gym goers and homophobia in regards to the whole thing, I’m going to justify why I wanted to do this…
Basically after my run in with the Pox I wanted to feel better about my physical appearance. That does not mean tight skin pulled over rippling muscles across my body, hell no. What it does mean however is that after the 2 weeks of lying in bed that the Pox brought on, I want to regain and maintain some basic level of fitness where I can feel healthy (though my only experiences of physical health come when I’m near the sea in Summer, usually) and ready to arbitrarily pick fights with passers-by, to prove my masculinity… just kidding? Largely, I’m sure I can ignore the culture that this environment encourages, and work out a routine to push my physical boundaries (I think, like anyone, I find this intensely satisfying) mayhaps 3 times a week, and ascend the plateaus that my friends have now reached… Rumination of the Moment™: ”One of the indictments of civilizations is that happiness and intelligence are so rarely found in the same person.”