Because Anyone Can Whip Up a Batch of E

I could see him scrabbling with his things desperate to free up space on the seat, I had noticed him earlier but chose to ignore him. There were no other seats and exhaustion forced me to join him. I returned his beam with a polite smile and proceeded to read my newspaper.
‘’Those look heavy.’
’Pause. Oh he’s talking to me.
‘’Uh yeah they’re from the library.’
’Back to my newspaper.
‘’So you work there?’’
Again it takes me a few moments to register his words.
‘’These are for an assignment, I’m a uni student.”
By now it had become clear that this boy was going to insist on dialogue and that I would have little choice in this matter. Resigning myself to what would surely be a very painful 40 minutes I folded the newspaper in my lap and turned to face him.Still smiling, he pulled up the sleeve of his t-shirt and pointed to the Southern Cross tattooed on his arm before beginning to question me. ‘Whereabouts you from?’’
‘’Sydney...?’’
‘’Oh, right. Well if you enjoy a barbie and the footy on Sundays then anyone’s welcome around here!’’
Apparently an attempt at being friendly.His name was Brad, aged eighteen and he had recently joined the army reserves, an idea that appealed to him wonderfully because it complemented his awesome chef’s job in a city club. He’d get to party after work every night and train with the army every now and then; he figured it was a pretty a sweet life.He stopped to pull a thread from his shorts.
‘’It really helps to keep busy, especially now, just gotta keep moving forward you know?’’
His girlfriend had broken up with him, dumped in favour of the HSC. She was a nice girl, lived on the Northshore, the uptown girl to this downtown man.
‘’It’s funny cos all her friends were scared of me, since I’m a westie and all.’’
He’d decided to tackle this perception on the day he met her parents. Brad turned up to his (now) ex-girlfriend’s home dressed in army shorts, a white singlet and a baseball hat. As soon as he was introduced to anyone he would throw up his arms and shout
‘‘Don’t worry! No guns! No knives! You’re all safe!’’
What a relief.

‘’So, do you have a boyfriend?’’
‘’Uh No’’
‘’Aww why not?’’
I threw him some roundabout response that didn’t answer the question; I did not appreciate having my personal information broadcast on a train to an audience silently urging us to shut up. His smile wavered for a moment, then returned as he continued his chatter.‘
’Us westies we’re not so bad right? Those Northshore types think we’re all into drugs and that, I can tell you now it’s not just us, any science student at uni can whip up a batch of E, it’s real easy, my friend can do it’’.
He leaned closer to me in our cramped, hot little corner.
‘’I reckon it’s all a conspiracy, the government, they want those drugs out on the streets, they want kids out there getting stoned, it keeps their little system rolling you know?”
What could I do but nod along? Watching his blond curls jump with every bump of the train. He would have to shave those locks off soon; the military had their rules after all.
Much sooner than I expected we reached his stop.
‘’Anyway it was nice to meet you, I’m stationed in Iraq in two weeks so wish me luck!’’

Why You're Single

You’re under some sort of delusion that Romeo/Juliet/both/other exists

Did you seriously believe that story? Sorry to burst your bubble honey but it was just that, A STORY. Fiction that was written some 400 years ago by a guy who took far too much pleasure in killing off all his characters.People won’t serenade you from outside your window, Mr Darcy won’t fling himself into a still body of water and Taylor Swift will have many more teardrops on her guitar.

You’re too picky

What’s this? You want someone who’s smart, funny, good looking, actually cares about you and shares the same values you do? Want to throw in rich as well? Clearly you live on some other planet where such advanced alien concepts are possible. Down here on planet Earth you should consider yourself lucky if you’re getting laid by someone who covers one or maybe even TWO of the aforementioned.Just marry some old rich bastard and run off with all his cash. Wait for him to cark it, then go find yourself some sexy brainless toy boy until you get bored. Or until your money runs out, in which case you just go back and repeat the cycle.

The sex isn’t good

So what, you think you’re Lily Allen? That girl could get anyone to sleep with her now that she’s famous, but back in the day she had to put up with shit sex if she wanted a nice guy, and if you ARE getting good sex, he’s probably an arsehole.

You’re insanely desperate

Sadly, declaring eternal love on the first date isn’t very attractive. Unless of course, the person you are on a date with is also as desperate as you are, or a virgin. Unlike those romantic fairytales you hear on love song dedications (which you listen to diligently every night, just waiting for Mr/Ms Right to call up) or the shit that Shakespeare’s spun, announcing your undying affection 20 minutes in, isn’t a smart move.

You don’t put out on the first date

It all comes down to sex. Our society is built around it, well actually it’s built around the heavily revered penis, but that’s a whole other issue. Just take what you can get.

You put out on the first date

No one wants to tap the same shit twice.

I'd Love You Even If You Were A Murderer

I don’t usually talk to the TV, but this morning I made an exception.

Bleary eyed and flicking through yesterday’s copy of Mx I decided to turn on the TV. Catching the last few minutes of ABC kids’ school holiday cartoons I decided to leave it on whilst I went through the paper in the hope that something good would be on in a few minutes, or at least kill the time between infomercials on the other channels. I looked up from a riveting article on David Beckham to discover a middle aged British man informing me that his boys would never have survived a 1950’s childhood. Honestly, why would anyone want to go through the 50’s again? Unfortunately this appeared to be the exact purpose of the show. We moved from black and white pictures of this man growing up with his perfect hair and perfect little boy suits - naaw how wonderful! – And cut to a teenage boy with Taylor Swift like flowing golden locks, this is one of his disorderly sons. Cut again to another boy, whom the family like to call a ‘meterosexual.’ The voiceover man explains his 'meterosexuality' whilst our little metero man lies on his bed in a pink t-shirt, chatting to his ‘girlfriends’ about the third season of Desperate Housewives.

Hmm...

We then establish that the disciplinary problem with the family’s four boys stems from their ‘individualism’, clearly it is some sort of crime against humanity to allow your children to have personalities, heaven forbid you should have a sports nut, an emo guitar player, a macho little kid and a ‘meterosexual’ living under the same roof. Okay I can see how that could cause some conflict, but still...The boys are stripped of their iPods, computers, electric guitars, and metero boy loses his ‘cosmetics’. The look of disdain on his face when his bottles of god knows what are being taken away is absolute gold.

The ordinarily sweet natured father has been forced to become a cold disciplinarian and their normally empowered mother must now become the ‘perfect housewife’, the poor woman is clearly unhappy about having to take on this role as is evident through her various sarcastic remarks disguised as ‘jokes’ and ‘insecuirities’. Whilst mother dear is cooking dinner in the kitchen, young metero is asked to help her peel potatoes, but he seems hell bent on disobeying orders (and good on him I say!). This calls for Man of the House father to come along and save the day. Whilst poor metero boy is being reprimanded he stomps and squeals in a very effeminate manner and just before our young hero heads off to face 'punishment' in his room he makes some final remark, a remark accentuated by that little wrist flip, or ‘pansy hand wave’ that so many camp gay men have become known for. It was at this point that I snorted into my Weet Bix and exclaimed at the television

‘you morons! He ain’t no ‘’meterosexual!’ HE’S A HOMOSEXUAL!’’

Looks like someone’s parents are in denial.

Poor boy.

Lady in Red Is Dancing With Me

What is meaning?

What is truth?

Why does it matter?

It matters because we are here, because we exist and most importantly because it gives us something to do.

But why should it?

Why should we simply occupy our minds with simple drivel whilst ignoring what is important? I suppose that would mean actually knowing what ‘important’ is. Oh but important is family, it is belonging, it is knowing who you ARE the universal ‘they’ will tell you. Well thank you universal ‘they’ you have been of great help here today.Now back to the matter at hand.

Or is there in fact any matter at hand? It only matters if I say it matters and who am I to say it matters? Why should it even matter that I think it matters? But everything matters if it matters to you! They will proclaim. Yeah tell that to the millions who are being blown up by god knows who for god knows why right now, to the dictatorships forming and collapsing, to women being raped, children being abused, people being manipulated, cheated on, experiencing moments of euphoria, being born and dying. It’s all this huge tangled mess that no one can ever truly fix. Yep world peace, that’d be good, but then what would we all do with ourselves?

Humanity needs something to DO it needs something to mull over when it is not occupying itself with education (or avoidance of it), work, family/friends/workmates/ sexual interest etc or other form of hobby

.All we do is create things, watch them fall apart (if we live long enough, for surely everything comes to an end eventually) and then we wonder why we bothered creating it in the first place. But it gave me pleasure at the time! You will exclaim. Yes well making a baby gives you plenty of pleasure for a short period of time but then you’ve got the rest of your life to suffer for it. Or not I suppose, depends on whether you’re the kind of person who should be having kids.

Who determines who should be having kids? Why should it matter? Some say our only purpose is to make babies, to simply exist, to make more babies and die. Most people don’t like that idea because it is rather depressing. The vast majority of the time I do not like that idea either. Sometimes though, sometimes I do wonder,

faith.

To have faith is to KNOW to TRUST.

I have faith.

But what if I just have faith because I want to have faith? Because the alternative is simply too terrifying to imagine, that my life means nothing and the few people it DOES mean something to will soon perish and their lives will have meant nothing because the people their lives meant something to will also perish and so the cycle will continue. Sure some people live on in history but what do they really MEAN to us? I have had people tell me that these figures inspire them, that Jesus or Joan of Arc or Henry VIII have given them a reason to want to exist in this world and I believe them.

What if we took it all away? The distractions. The computers, TVs, movies, radios, music, books, science, history, war, exploration and religion. Would we then find TRUTH?Can truth be defined? Isn’t truth subjective? Isn’t it what you want it to be? Isn’t it what ‘feels’ right? Why should our ‘feelings’ make anything ‘right’?

WHAT IS RIGHT?

How can you define it? Oh but it is the opposite of wrong! It is when we KNOW that what we have done is BAD.

But aren’t these just constructs? In some Arab countries men hold hands – this is RIGHT because it is a SYMBOL of FRIENDSHIP. Then when they decide to move those hands to other places or use other body parts it is suddenly WRONG. Why? BECAUSE SO AND SO SAID SO. DUH.

Oh right excuse me for not realising.

IT IS WRONG TO KILL.

Why?

BECAUSE SOMEONE SAID SO.

Which is why Americans still practice capital punishment, which is why men who kill hundreds of other men in war are celebrated as ‘heroes’ for they have been ‘brave’ and fought ‘for their country’ (oil/land/meaningless religious distinction) but the man who killed his son because hi s son was in pain always, never able to move or ‘live’ (whatever that is) that man is sent to jail because he has done something BAD.It is only ever ‘wrong’ when it suits your purposes for it to be wrong. It is wrong to ‘kill’ because this means that your neighbour could walk into your home and slaughter you simply because they felt the urge. It is, on the other hand, perfectly legal to slaughter cows, ducks, chickens, pigs, moose, elephants and anyone else that can’t sue you and kill them. Oh but I need to eat! Well there are vegetables. Yes but vegetables are alive too! WE ARE KILLING LIVING THINGS WHEN WE MOW THE LAWN, WHEN WE EAT POTATO PIE. We shouldn’t eat. We should starve. Eating merely fulfils unnecessary desires, desires that distract us from our goal.

What is this goal?

Why to find the meaning of life!

Don’t you have to be alive to find the meaning of life?

Well yes that does help.

Sometimes.

Not always.If you work fast you can find the meaning of life without living.

Define ‘life’

.I can’t, there are too many definitions – is it breathing? Is it consciousness? Is it being social? Is it all or none of the above?

I suppose you would need to eat to physically sustain yourself long enough to reach the stage of development required to contemplate existence.

PEOPLE DON’T CONTEMPLATE EXISTENCE! THEY THINK ABOUT IT FOR A MOMENT, FREAK OUT AND HIDE BEHIND/IN FRONT OF SOME SORT OF INVENTION.

Or they drive themselves mad with nonsense written in books by people who wrote what they UNDERSTOOD Buddha/Jesus etc to have said, NOT WHAT JESUS/BUDDHA ETC SAID.

Humans change things to suit themselves, all they care about are their selfish gains, gains that will mean nothing when they face their grave, all that will matter will be meaning itself.

Find the meaning of meaning and you will find meaning.

Education What?

there is a post about public education about two posts down

READ IT.

Crazed Rant

My internet keeps cutting out.As you can imagine, the first night this happened to me it wasn’t a very pretty sight, or I suppose I wasn’t the very pretty sight (though I assure you that normally I am exceedingly pretty). It was about some stupid thing called a ‘DNS Configuration’ and when it wasn’t that it was the ‘key ports’ not doing what they were supposed to. And all this meant that the INTERNET WAS GONE. There was NO FACEBOOK. Let me repeat that for you in case you didn’t catch its significance the first time:

NO.

FACEBOOK.

How was I going to avoid assignments now? How would I get random updates about people who I ordinarily do not give a shit about’s lives? And more importantly what if that hottie from the lecture who I still haven’t had the guts to speak to, was attempting to friend request me RIGHT THAT VERY MOMENT and I wasn’t there to accept and subsequently Facebook chat- them up? And I couldn’t complain about it because I couldn’t access my blog.Suddenly I had all this TIME readings were being done (2 weeks in advance) assignments due in week 14 were being polished off...and it had only been 2hrs without online access.Just imagine what I could do if I never had access to teh interwebz again! I could cure cancer, end world poverty, create peace on earth...or watch the Buffy box set again. Oh the possibilities! Children will clean their rooms, chores will be done and parents will float around homes, living in the kind of domestic bliss only observed back when they only had TV and radio to spread the word of the devil. But hey, with Rudd’s new internet censorship laws this might end up being the case anyway, I mean if your local dentist has been blacklisted as a paedophile, YOU won’t be going out and doing something horribly impure like getting your teeth whitened now will you? Clearly K-Rudd was having similar difficulties with his internet, and when he discovered how productive he could be if he got off that MySpace page of his (G 20 summit, solving a financial crisis) he figured we should al have this same fantastic opportunity. Which is also why he’s promised us super-fast broadband for the future, so sure you won’t be able to do much on the internet but at least you know that you’ll be able to do a whole lot of nothing at lightning speed rates, and isn’t that what matters?

Maybe She's Born With It?

Maybe it's the leather pants.

Eliza Dushku ( Or 'Ms Dushmush' as Hung so eloquently put it) returns to our screens with Dollhouse this year, hopefully it'll last longer than two seasons (Tru Calling).

This makes me quite happy, I've been waiting for some new awesome sci-fi to emerge, and Ms Dushmush never disappoints!