Been a Long Time, eh?

Well I suppose it has, but in these times of fast writing, instant messaging and general mucking about I just haven't sat down and dedicated an hour to putting my thoughts into blog format. The other thing is that once you get out of the pattern and the drill you end up losing confidence, and worrying that you may make a goose of yourself in the end. Which I do regularly anyway. You also tend to focus on the negative things in life and dwell on things that just don't matter any more.

I did start to write about the time my family, while we were living in the USA, visited Niagara Falls and camped there. But that is for another post at another time. The song you may or may not be listening to has something to do with that (click the play button above).

I suppose I had better catch you up with life in Bungers Central. AARON HAS STARTED WALKING!!!



I apologise for the quality, it is done with my phone. The quality is, however, much better than an iPhone even though my phone is two years old. Slam.

You may think that the music doesn't match, well I don't care for your opinion. It smells like a poo. An iPoo.

You may pick up that I am annoyed with iPod, iPhone or anything by Apple iPhuk. You may be right, but you may be more correct in saying that I am just a bit jealous of people in the other countries that managed to get them at decent prices or on decent plans. May your hard drives become as corrupt as Morris Iemma, and your battery life be as minuscule as Sarah Palin's intellect. And may your touch screen sue you for indecent assault.

Speaking of politicians, Turdbull has been awfully quiet, is he trying to seem intelligent, or is he actually intelligent? I hate to admit it, but if this is the trend, I might start to like the libs an eensy, teensy bit. They at least seem to be behaving in a constructive manner, rather than the old Dr. Nelson aka Captain Bitchy Pants method of 'let's be as negative as possible and see if people begin to like us'. It doesn't work, just take a look at North Korea.

Onward with the rant muthas! Where should I go from here. Oh, yeah, Qantas. Well don't flying turkeys come home to roost!

Where next? Um. I just had a look at this site, and it stopped my rant dead in its tracks. Thanks Frommelbin, I am going to bed now.

Oh Where Life Leads You

Having recently left one job, and started another I have come to a point where things that once made sense don't any more. Things that were once unclear are now lucid and transparent. I was comfortable in my stagnation; personal drive was destroyed at every burst. Life assumed a predictable course - until I was fucked over that is.

I am not going to take this little opportunity to lambaste the people that deliberately did me wrong. They don't deserve my full attention, the bottom feeding, plague-bringers that they are. They make the bile rise in my throat just thinking about them. On the other hand, I don't want you to misinterpret what I say here. There were a small handful of people that did what they could to keep me there. Mostly my friends and mentors. Thanks.

I am much happier now, however I just can't shake some feelings of regret. I am in a wonderful place, developing strong friendships and acquaintances, tonnes of opportunity being thrown at my feet, and my home life is much happier for leaving. I just can't get rid of it. Will it pass?

Sometimes I just want to scream and yell at the injustice people are suffering for the selfishness of others. Sometimes I feel such anger, hatred and animosity welling up inside me that I can barely control it. The other day I looked across the lake, up that wonderful parade and shed a tear for the innocent suffering of people that are trying to do their job for the right reasons, and get shafted for the wrong reasons. A bit like the poor men at the Nek.

People must have found it hard to walk away from a war, because I find it hard enough walking away from a job that I loved, and hated, but mostly loved.

I think Charlie Sheen (playing Chris Taylor in his best effort to emulate his dad) summed it up well in the movie Platoon:

I think now, looking back, we did not fight the enemy; we fought ourselves. The enemy was in us. The war is over for me now, but it will always be there, the rest of my days. As I'm sure Elias will be, fighting with Barnes for what Rhah called "possession of my soul." There are times since, I've felt like a child, born of those two fathers. But be that as it may, those of us who did make it have an obligation to build again. To teach to others what we know, and to try with what's left of our lives to find a goodness and a meaning to this life

Well, maybe not precisely, but you get the gist anyway.

Maybe I did it to myself, I doubt it, but surely some of it is owed to my stubborn pride, and the fact that I will always stand up against the Barnes's and fight for the Elias's of the world.

Much of my time there doesn't make sense now, I did really well, but I also did some things really badly. All I ever got were mixed messages when all I tried to do was the right thing.

Hopefully this post will put it all behind me now. I have much more important, beautiful, exciting and wonderful things to care about.

Back Again

Sometimes things just work perfectly - like Dark side of the Moon and Alice in Wonderland . Well this moment came over me whilst listening to this...



That moment happened where all of the past rushed past and the most post-modern of extraordinary expressions happened. I cried and laughed at the same time. Really. The future is now consuming me.

Everything that I ever wanted to do with music, and everything I should have and could have done was tied up into that moment. It was all of my friends and enemies, and angst and hatred and love, and... music tied into one.

It truly was weird.

Treat 'em Mean, Keep 'em Keen...

Tonight I heard a bit of garbage talking. Hang on, was that garbage or was it that bit of turd under my shoe. No, wait! It's SuperTurd.

I just sat and waited for a good fifteen minutes for Dr. Brendan Nelson to say something of substance. FIFTEEN MINUTES of watching Julie Bishop's head bounce up and down like a cheap toy dog in the back window of a cheap imported car. She is so cross-eyed it is like all she does is focus on objects really close to her face. Like one of those scantily clad women in one of those films you get in Fyshwick. I think the symptom is some sort of sucker cramp.

By the way, where was Turnbull? He was conspicuously absent, perhaps he was off doing what he does best - pretending to be George Clooney. Or maybe he was causing Joe Hockey's head to bob up and down. No, that was caused by the fact that he is a fat, spineless piece of whale blubber.

There were a few moments of sheer comedic brilliance, however. Moments such as when Dr. Nelson remarked "watching petrol prices does not bring them down".

Ha, ha, ha, big belly laughs.

Good thing Julie Bishop isn't watching them. Oh wait, she can't. Julie looks in the mirror and thinks she has two heads like Zaphod.

I suppose what Dr. Nelson really wanted to say is "watching the opinion polls doesn't make you popular" or "watching a doughnut doesn't make you Joe Hockey".

Another piece of comedic brilliance was when Joe Hockey nodded his head furiously to confirm Dr. Nelson's views on alco-pops. Taxing them is going to cause the kids to take harder stuff - like marijuana.

Teenager: I can't afford a six pack of orange, yummy tasting stuff, so I am going to share a dirty, disease spreading bong that tastes like pigeon shit crossed with syphilis.

Joe Hockey : Well, pass me the bong when you are finished.

Teenager: No worries, but by the way it's not a doughnut.

Joe Hockey: I know, but that horse I just ate wasn't a doughnut either. Do you have any ideas of what I can say in parliament tomorrow? I am sick of sounding stupid. Wow, its weird when you listen to what you say, it's like you forget what you said and just keep going and going and going and eating...

Julie Bishop: (lighting bong with incredible dexterity and accuracy) It is like my eyes were designed for this.

Malcolm Turnbull: Wow, its like I'm not here.

Budget Budget Budget Budget Budget Budget Budgie Budgie Budgie SMUGGLERS!

Once upon a time, in the land of the Post Pubescens, a man called Jummifera swore that he would never become a Servent of the Pubelist, and nor would he care for the Budgetus. Jummifera would become a purveyor of magnificent smuggled goods, living a Bohemian life playing the five-string, pulsing, 'Lady Trembler' in a band of magnanimous fame. Consuming caffeinated beverages in the morning, and fine ales from noon would be his daily routine.

As much as Jummifera knew about the world - and he knew everything - he didn't know about himself. Nor did he know about Wisdom and the Rose that hath a Wyrm. The Wyrm of Growing Uppeth.

DAMMIT!

I grew up.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck - I have now sat and watched TWO budgets in a row (the passing of years has become like the passing of days). Sadly I am going to sit and watch the budget reply. FOR THE SECOND TIME TOMORROW!

I can't believe I care!?

I remember sitting in a hazey blur a number of years ago, casting soap box comments on all politicians:

Me: They're just a pack of fags

Mate: It's not a fucking microphone, pass it over

Me: I mean, where do they get off? Determining what I pay for a pack of smokes, and for a longie of VB isn't fucking right.

- pause -

Me again: and they wear suits all the time... what's with that? You don't need a suit to be respectable. I know I'm a good person, right? I don't need neat hair to be taken seriously. Just 'cos I have an undercut, and black and blue colours in my hair doesn't mean I can't be a good person. Right?

Mate: I said... it isn't a FUCKING MICROPHONE PASS IT OVER!!!

Me: Oh, ok, sorry dude (passing the microphone over) what is it then?

Mate: It's a portal for our minds and souls to travel through this ridiculous material existence and into the panties of many hot chicks.

Me: Oh, I see... so it goes with my five-string, pulsing 'Lady Trembler' then. Cool. By the way, I dropped the portal in the ashtray earlier.

Mate: (Sniffing portal) You truly are a goose (gags)

Anyway, I have come to the realisation that I have now been in the Public Service for almost five years, have no intention of leaving, am the father of two children, am married, own a house, drive a car, kick a dog, attend church never and care about the budget. And interest rates, and tax, and the mortgage, and ironing my shirt and pants, and gardening.

Did I mention that I like gardening? No? Well, I am like a 32 year old Peter Cundall. Bloodey hell it is sad. I am going to plant leeks this weekend.

My bladder will also probably also start to leak this weekend.

New Zealand: Phase Fourteen - Goodbye and thank you very, very much.

Our last full nights sleep was fantastic. We both woke up resplendent, fresh and happy with coffees, robes and newspapers. I don't give a shit for the philosophies that denigrate material possessions; luxury is excellent. Really, really excellent.

After brekky we had to drop off our friend, Little GPS. This was a strangely sad time for us. We had travelled around for two weeks in the little fella, seeing mountains, sheep, llamas, deer and fjords of startling beauty - eating chocolates, having picnics, ginantonics and spilling beers behind the seat. We had become used to the little idiosyncrasies of the little food space under the bed, getting our clothes out before sleeping, the slightly strange column shift, and the funny vibration that happened only at 5251 rpm.

If you ever hire a Spaceship do not use this petrol station before you drop it off. The owner/manager/sheep fucker that runs it deserves herpes. If you ever want to know what happened you will have to ask, but be prepared to cop a spray.

After we dropped Little GPS back (very sad) we went for a bit of a walk, grabbed some food (I had a very healthy apricot Danish, Stacey had a decidedly unhealthy custard roll), we wandered down to the America's cup area (very Darling Harbour) and then up to the Sky Tower.

I was really quite impressed by the tower, the glassy floor bits that made my feet tickle, and the view across all of Auckland. It truly is a magnificent city.

After our little tower experience we bolted on up to drop off our oversized, ovine oval that is now in the possession of Aaron, and back down to the America's Cup area to eat some lunch.

We had a fun meal, listening to Beatles and sipping wine and beer. We then enjoyed the rest of the day buying cheap Kiwi souvenirs. We finished our time over there with some take-away, a bit of wine, a few Kiwi beers and a chat to the folks.

I suppose that ends my blog on our travels to beautiful New Zealand. Maybe I should claim 'trog' as my word for a 'travel blog'. New Zealand is an impressive and beautiful country. I cannot think of any other words to describe what the place means to us.

We had a lot of fun over there, and maybe, just maybe we will go back there and visit with our family.

Maybe, just maybe we will go back to that spot where we argued, and where I felt a little foot touch my hand for the first time.

FUNT

I just realised that I had posted one of my most prized possessions. My word. Miss Fitz took it upon herself to write a post on made up words. I stupidly used my special little word in my comment.

So here it is - my word is officially in the public sphere - FUNT.

There. My word, so piss of you pack of funts and have some fun with a T.