aw bagger

So tired. But I feel guilty that I've neglected this bit of writing as it's about the only creative thing I'm doing right now. I've realised that most people are pretty much incapable of understanding anyone who isn't exactly the same as they are. Thus most human beings fail to understand other human beings. That's about the only conclusion I can come to about human nature.

I wonder why anyone bothers complaining about anything. As if that'll do anything. As if I'm not guilty of the same. Why do I bother complaining? About Rhea, about my fucked up family, about the fact that I can't sustain relationships.

I was oddly touched by the death of George Best, even though I hadn't heard of him until very recently. There's something that resonates for me about troubled sporting greats. Something to do with the fact that I wouldn't be here were it not for a troubled sporting great. Leave it at that.

another thing

One of my students has created a rather nice blog of photos. rtrtf.blogspot.com Some very nice snaps of the sculptures by the sea, among other things. Enjoy!

enough already

It's been a while since I've logged on and blogged on. It doesn't seem to take too long for the guilt to take hold as a result of that neglect. Anyway, what is there to say? Christmas is looking like being an enormous root up the bum, what with having to take two weeks off with no pay. It's no good. I'd like to just hibernate for those two weeks and ignore the whole damn thing, not have to spend anything. All that Christmas consumerism, it really sucks the energy out of you.

Rhea and I are back together, for the time being. We're fighting a bit less, although there are the usual share of dramas. It seems she wants more than I can give: house, car, kids etc. I don't know how I'd be able to realistically offer her that. In my job there is no job security whatsoever. Of course I could do a course or two and get a more stable job, but do I really want one? Do I really want to devote myself to teaching that much? I don't even know what I want to do when I grow up, like most people I suppose, and like most teachers I have practically no ambition. My ambition is to get through today, and then get through tomorrow and then one day I'll be dead and I won't have to worry about getting through the day anymore.

I feel like I should be doing some proper writing. I mean, "proper" writing. Ever since this blog has started the other writing has pretty well dried up. Of course there are always lots of things that I should be doing but I'm not. At least the Christmas shopping is almost done. And I even wrote a completely original exercise or two for my students last night. That was a first for the beginner class, I can tell ya. Usually it's Cutting Edge or Headway all the way.

shrum

Some folk reading this may not be aware of the "archives" bit of the blog, which at the moment is not very deep, but which will grow. Go down the right of this page and see where it says "archives" click "october" and there you are. Even more crap!

Jeez I don't know how I survived my teaching day today. Had about 2 hours' sleep last night. One of those Gawd-awful Sundays where you just don't feel rested at the end of the day and the prospect of the week fills you with a sick, sinking stinking dread and you just toss and turn, turn and toss. And then some truly absurd idea enters your brain as you toss and turn and just sits there for about an hour or three, going round and round and round. Anyway, muddled through there somehow and was embarrassed by a couple of old students who dropped in to tell me what a good teacher I am (apparently they're not so thrilled with where I sent them....it was supposed to be a promotion, really). Anyway, I didn't feel like such a brilliant teacher today but I suppose somebody learned something in spite of my relative lead-footedness. Actually, the diversity in the room is making a big difference now. Once all the Egyptians roll in you can't help getting carried away by the cheerful atmosphere they create, even if you feel kind of crap. And people are learning as well. An all-Thai classroom, fun as it is, isn't always the greatest environment for learning anything. The new crop of Egyptians have been like a blood transfusion to the class, and a life-saving one at that. Apart from the fact that they make it economically viable even.

How much do our circumstances dictate our lives to us. Noam Chomsky says that the same individual, given the right background, could be a saint or a gas-chamber attendant. We all have it in us to be either. If that's true, the society we've created isn't conducive to saintliness I suspect. The tone of discourse is getting steadily coarser, or so it seems. Being good seems to be an out and out liability. Money is the new God, even (especially perhaps) for so-called Christians.

In spite of modern capitalism's best attempts, in spite of the millions of tons of concrete that have been poured over our spirits, the spiritual life goes on somewhere and somehow. Drink lots of water, avoidbooze, coffee and animal products as much as you can, be still when you can and then be up at sunrise and go for a nice stroll and you'll see what I mean. It's still there everywhere if you concentrate on the quiet and avoid the noise.

absolute rubbish!

As I lay there in bed, tossing and turning at 3 in the morning I was thinking about what really causes suffering, the old Buddhist idea that desire is at the root of it. Desire for money, fame, beauty, comfort, love, acceptance, approval. The desire to live and the desire to die. I’m convinced those desires and more are behind each and every sleepless night, every moment of anxiety and existential anguish.

Why do people get so uncomfortable talking about death? I’m sorry folks, but death is the only thing that’s truly democratic in the world. I was just about to mention a politician, but scratch that. Anyway, it’s as democratic as anything. We eat, we shit, we fornicate and reproduce and then we die. Yes, there truly are things that unite all of humanity throughout the entire world. Sounds like I’m talking in clichés doesn’t it? I’m too tired to think of anything original. Three nights of minimal, light sleep on the trot, and last night there were four beers and a couple of scotches. You try thinking of anything original. People think they can put death off, like their credit card repayments, they think that if they take the right vitamin supplements and stay off cigarettes and booze and do enough exercise they’ll be ok. They won’t be ok, they’re all going to die anyhow. Religion won’t save you either, it’ll just give you something to help you stay in denial. Or that’s how it looks from here.

The technology is too efficient. I fear that it will lead to a spanking new kind of fascism that will make the old forms of social control look dang well pale by comparison. The encryption codes, the electronic walls, the surveillance technology. The mind-fuck drugs. Either there will be all-out control or all-out chaos. Actually, all-out chaos seems just as likely. The Bush agenda seems to be to fragment the world. It seems to be working very nicely.

I'm alive and that's all that really matters. Soon enough I'll be gone. Maybe next week or maybe in 50 years' time, who knows? Either way it actually doesn't bother me too much. Nobody is really missed all that much when they go. Life itself doesn't actually miss anybody and that's the beauty of it. That is beautiful, isn't it?

dahhhhling

I discovered the other day that Lucie has indeed given birth to her baby. I'd called her mum a few months ago (wouldn't dare call Lucie herself anymore) just to check up on how she's going, and her mum tells me she's about 8 months pregnant, but she won't tell me who the father is. Anyway, I decided to call her mum again just to see if she was now ok, her baby was ok. Both are ok, her mum said. In fact she said that the baby was wonderful, marvellous, then she asked me if I wanted to speak to Lucie. I said well no Lucie might not want to talk to me, but she passed the phone over to Lucie anyway. Lucie said hello, I said hello, then she put the phone down, like she did the last time I tried to call her whenever it was, a year or more ago.

I can't say I'm heartbroken but I'm not thrilled either. It's frustrating that she won't talk at all. That's about all I've got to say about it.

The state of my mental health these days is good. In spite of what some might imagine, it's never been better. Most days I don't even think about suicide, whereas in the old days the thought of it and the desire for it used to hang there constantly. Living didn't really interest me much at all, whereas now at least I can get up more than just a flicker of interest, most days. In fact, life for the most part was just a terrible, terrible burden. Nowadays it is actually a pleasure. It's a pleasure to get up in the morning and eat, a pleasure to teach my students and a pleasure to come home. I put that down in part to diet and exercise. For those of you who don't drink wheatgrass or take spirulina, a daily dose of both can turn things around quite dramatically.

No I'm not a depressive and if I sound like one I honestly don't mean to. In writing as in life, it's important to be both cheerful and honest. I'm as cheerful as I can be and hopefully my writing is an honest reflection of just how cheerful things actually are.

View from Watson's

glorious

I realised at some point last night that alcohol is killing me. Actually I've known that for quite a while but it really hit home, even harder than usual. So at least I haven't had anything today but I never know how long I can stick to a non-drinking regimen, not long usually. I must be quite suicidal if I keep doing it in the full knowledge of what it's doing to me. Possibly that realisation may lead to the beginning of the end of my drinking career. I don't lose hope.

Alan Ramsey, Herald high priest of political pontification says we're sliding into a new kind of fascism and I can't disagree with him. I feel quite ill about where we are going, away from the light at the end of the tunnel or so it seems. The war on terror. The war is terror. The population is being terrorised. Australia is part of the terror zone. Welcome to it folks. But remember who is protecting you from the terrorists. Step right up and watch respectable public figures eat and then regurgitate their own shit. Triffic, triffic.

A person can waste so much time in spite of all the things that conspire to keep us busy. It alarms and depresses me the amount of time I've wasted on smut and on booze, in chatrooms as well as the countless hours spent lying in bed awake and staring at the walls and ceilings in the near-darkness. I could have been writing the great Australian novel, or at least polishing the crap that I've already written.

Anyway, I just hope y'all are happy out there, people. In spite of what I have to say about, it is still a beautiful world, really. If you are in any doubt about it, just go for a walk about town at sunrise when the weather is warm, or in any season really. Most people avoid the morning if they can help it and that may be one of the reasons for the sorry state the world has got itself into. We've forgotten the best and the most beautiful things and we're celebrating the worst and the ugliest. Learning for the sake of learning, living for the sake of loving or for beauty. Wouldn't it be good if more people would just try it? Wouldn't that just be better? It's possible you know, really.

na na na

I keep telling myself I should add to this here online affair but then I realise that I have nothing to say. Or at least, nothing that I want aired publicly. I mean you could stare into my head and see all sorts of nasty things, if you had the power to do so but you don't, so we'll just leave it like that for now. But I will say it pleases me no end how the Bush government is unravelling. It's great that Bush is already being treated as a lame duck president, even though he still has three more years to go. I hope he sweats and suffers. I'm looking forward to interviews over the next three years, as reporters feel steadily more emboldened to ask the hard questions that they've been avoiding these past few years. One shouldn't gloat, but it's hard not to.

Dateline interviewed a bunch of survivors of Abu Ghraib last night and I'm glad that they did. It's about time people were made aware of the human cost of deeply misguided policy. Not that Australian politicians give a shit. I wish that Howard and Ruddock and the rest would watch Dateline just to get some idea what's actually going on in the world, and just who and what they are endorsing. But I'm sure that they don't. I mean, why is Australia the only country that votes for that fucking wall in Israel, apart from Israel and the USA and a couple of pissy little Pacific island states? Shameful.

Free speech, long may it live on the net and in the street and the pubs and the cafes and in private homes and on our phones. Our Government is stupid enough to think that they will be able to shut down debate with their ridiculous, hypocritical laws. But they won't. For those of you who don't know out there in the world, the Australian Government is planning to introduce new sedition laws. I'd never heard of the word "sedition" until it was in the news. Sedition, apparently, means speaking against your country. It's the verbal equivalent of treason. So anyway, they're looking to expand the definition of it to include language that urges attacks against not just Australian troops but any allied troops stationed alongside Australians, for example. The other point is that although sedition has been on the books since federation, the only case that was prosecuted was in 1948 against some alleged Communist spies. Now they will be out after people. I just wonder if TISM would be able to perform "kill Americans" in the current political climate. Anyway, if the Government is in any doubt about the effectiveness of anti-democratic laws like the ones proposed, they should look to Communist Central Europe. People didn't shout opposition to the Government in public, they whispered it in the corridors and the regime eventually fell.

Australia is just a client state of the USA in a world that's full of them. But we're up there with the best of them. Israel, Saudi, Britain, Japan....Australia falls right in behind them.

You are allowed to speak freely, as long as you freely say what we tell you to say. That seems to be the message that the Government is conveying to us now, and it's a pretty psychotic message if you ask me. It's like John Howard proclaiming the virtues of Australian stoicism and calm in one breath, and in the next saying that terrorism is "the nuclear threat of our age". Sorry John, I'm far less scared of a few nailbombs going off downtown than I ever was of a full-scale nuclear war. I remember the sheer terror during the seventies and eighties, when we felt like the world was on edge and could end any second. It was actually the ultimate fear. Of course nothing's changed. The nuclear weapons are still there, just not talked about as much and there are other threats besides. Oceans full of chemicals and plastics, trees that have sucked in so much pollution that they start producing CO2 instead of oxygen. The rise of China and India which could mean that all the world's resources will be used up completely and the planet will finally choke on its own vomit.

I should end on a positive note I tell myself, but how? By thinking positive positive positive, chant the mantra. Think positive positive positive

ratatat

It's all good, all good all good....or that's what I keep trying to tell myself. Human beings are always trying to improve their lot, even though many of their efforts are totally and utterly misguided. What I'd like...I'd like to have unlimited time and money as well as unlimited inspiration to create beautiful things whether they were paintings or musical symphonies or stage performances or novels. When I look at the sum total of my achievements it really is pretty dismal, but most people feel that way I think. "I wasn't deep enough, wasn't beautiful enough, wasn't anything enough." Bob Fosse had his character saying that, and I have to admit that I feel the same way exactly, although I have a lot more reason to. So much more reason to.

yeah ok

I was tempted to make a private, personal aside but I won't. The idea is that whatever I write is supposed to be for everyone so let's just keep it that way. Comments always appreciated, but not from people trying to sell me their business concept from Hooternanny, Arkansas or wherever the fuck you come from.

Now that I've had a couple of martinis I'm supposed to be lubricated enough that the thought processes just flow but somehow it just isn't happening. I don't really want to watch any more tv now but it just seems to suck me in. sbs is like a religion to me. It always makes me feel slightly redeemed after I watch it, like I've just eaten raw fibre or something. But of course it isn't helping me get more productive. I'm still just as much of a zombie staring at the screen, even if what's on offer challenges the intellect a bit more than Idol or Big Brother.

thwack

Not been getting enough sleep lately, nor have I ever really, but getting through the day yesterday was really a challenge. Hate it when you feel like you are just barely swimming through the day, drowning not waving, head constantly dizzy from the insomnia. But anyway, I'm not dead yet and that's the main thing isn't it? At least I managed to fall into a nice deep slumber just now, four hours of refreshing heaven. And, if I can't sleep, there's always this little spot to turn to, which seems somehow easier than real actual writing. But of course nothing is ever easy, at least not if it's worthwhile. Things like staying faithful in relationships, that's not too easy really. Although I must say that in my mid-30's it's getting a whole lot easier. When I condider the way I boozed and screwed and partied my way through my 20's, I've really slowed down quite a bit and I'm grateful for that. There are certainly better things in life than the mindless pursuit of oblivion and sex. One inevitably moves towards more spiritual pursuits as one ages, no matter what kind of youth one has had. The body simply refuses to put up with so much abuse. Even Charles Bukowski gave up whiskey in his old age.

One tosses about ideas for the next big thing, which usually come to nothing. I'd like to either write a story or make a little video doc about my terrace house, which is arguably the most run-down place in my entire suburb. Glebe these days is mostly a deeply yuppified place for 30-something professionals, not a place for professional loser/drifters like me although there are exceptions there of course. But anyway, I haven't seen any functioning households in quite the state of delapidation and neglect as mine. Of course I can only speculate what goes on in the neighbours' rooms, most of whom are actually pretty quiet these days. At least they painted the halls which made the interior look just presentable enough to entice a couple of female tenants. The remains of the old paint job made the place look like the set of Fight Club. But old Mick the mad Irishman remains as a remnant of what used to be here. I don't know how he affords to pay the rent, drink, gamble and maybe even eat occasionally. A government pension is only worth about a hundred and fifty bucks a week. Then there is Sam downstairs, who is also decidedly Old School. Sam may not drink, but he has other vices, like a vicious disregard for order of any kind. I was actually shocked when I saw the state of his flat. Mine may not be flash, but at least I tidy things away occasionally. I suppose that Sam is a manic-depressive, he has all the hallmarks. The laugh that is just a little too hysterical, the verbal diahorrea, the quirky mannerisms. And how do I know what a manic-depressive is supposed to look like? Well, my uncle happens to be one and, like Sam, his flat was in a somewhat shabby state when the condition was really out of control. My cousin stayed over with him one night and they folded out the couch only to find a dead rat in there. This thing had been dead so long it just ripped apart and turned to dust as the bed came out. They tried vaccuuming the thing up but then rat-dust just poured out of the vaccuum cleaner. Or so the story goes.

oooh

My poor aching blog. I've neglected you baby, but I'm back now. Not good that I didn't write anything yesterday, nor did I really do anything. I got up, went out for breakfast and coffee, walked up to Oxford Street, drank a couple of beers, went to the city, bought a cd, came home and listened to it then listened to a bunch of other music, then called Rhea, watched the news, cooked something, called my mum, watched a bit more tv, surfed the net, went to bed and that was my Sunday. Well it's supposed to be a day of rest and that's what it was, but somehow I still feel guilty that I didn't do a dang thing. Anyway, Saturday was a better day. Hit the demonstration at noon, listened to a bunch of speakers who had some alright things to say about the war, but the streetmarch was really the highlight. One often wonders "Who the hell would vote for John Howard?" but an experience like the march really throws it into sharp relief. Seeing the confused faces of the people in the street who stared at us like we were from Mars, people who haven't thought about things properly in a long while, if ever. People whose lives have been completely cloyed and deadened by brain-zapping consumerism. For once I really felt like I was alive but most people are just dead inside, most of the time and that includes me I'm sorry to say. We really are the lemmings rushing straight over the cliff, the most idiotic generation I can imagine. If I read one more article about the younger generation being more conservative than their parents I think I will have to spontaneously combust. Is that something to be proud of folks? You are so proud of your so-called values but what do you value? Your plasma screen perhaps? Or the fact that the Government you support lies about simply everything? Perhaps you value a complete and wilful ignorance of history. I mean, where do you think your thinking is going to take us. The lemmings keep running towards the edge of the cliff. Everything's ok. Oblivion is really your friend, although it might take you a few seconds to find that out as you whistle through the abyss.

jus chillin

.....

Such a nice dream that I was in Europe, in Prague again, wandering around in the rain, which turned to autumn snow. It was beautiful. I was with Rhea and for some reason she was at work in an office there. I contacted her and told her to look out the window. She had never before seen snow falling from the sky. I said to her "Europe's nice, huh? Ain't she beautiful?" I was excited to be taking her out of town that day, out to the hills where the snow is deep. Rhea and I may not have much in common, but we both love snow and that's something.

People tell me I should do this and do that, get a post-grad degree, go to China, get published, whatever. The truth is that I have no idea what I should be doing or what's best. I enjoy my life here in Sydney well enough. I have friends here and God knows it takes long enough to build up a network of friends in any big city. I feel like I'm too old to start again, it's just too exhausting to do it all over, make new friends, cut ties, go through the whole damn rigmarole. Maybe a three month trip to Thailand or China would be alright and then I could sublet the flat for a stretch without much trouble.

But even the whole effort of doing that would be too much hassle actually. When I think about it, it just makes my brain freeze up. I've done it all before, too many times. I've met very few people more uprooted than I am. I've been tossed about with the wind and I'm just grateful to have somewhere I can call home, at least for a while. It may not be perfect, it may not be the places that stirred my soul the most, in the same way that Budapest and Bangkok did, but it's a place I can feel comfortable. Relaxed and comfortable, as Johnny Howard wants us to be right up to the moment when he sends all the stragglers who aren't making enough money for his Australia in the direction of the gas, ladies and gentlemen.

At Bronte

Rock face

The tool

blah, blah

Dang it my last post just disappeared....it really gets pretty annoying when technology just fails on you. Not that there was anything exciting there. Just what I did with my crap day and how frustrated I am that I can't find any inspiration whatsoever. Nothing new in that. How many nights have I woken up at some ungodly hour, at 2 in the morning or something and then just lay there basically paralysed by apathy. Boo hoo.

huhu

It's a hot one. Got all sweaty down at the beach, sweaty and red taking the hike from Bronte to Bondi and checking out the sculptures by the sea. Some were fine, some were crap. Tamarama looked pretty good with all those sculptures everywhere. I'd go back when it wasn't so brain-zappingly sunny. Even if the sculptures weren't the greatest, the beach is always an adventure. Too bad I couldn't be with my babe and go hide behind the rocks somewhere discreet and have a quick little, you know, bit of fun. But anyway, who the hell cares what happened on my little day out? I can't stop thinking about the future of the arts in this country. I just think that the whole system is out to get the things that matter and add beauty to our lives. Everything needs to be a commercial transaction now or it doesn't have "value". That's the real threat, never mind what's going on in politics, which is really just that final nail in the coffin. It's a totally cloying atmosphere we are in, right against the grain of the human spirit. Well that's what I think anyway. I hope I'm wrong. I could rant and rant and rant and tell y'all how helpless one can feel in the face of thugs and hoods who call themselves politicians, corporate chiefs, respectable persons. But instead I'll just go hide under a blanket like I usually do. I'm supposed to be a writer, that's what I call myself most pretentiously. But last night like so many nights I just lay there at 4 am after waking and not feeling like sleep. I didn't feel like sleeping but I didn't feel like getting up to do anything. The inspiration just isn't there really. I don't know why everything is just blocked. Maybe it's because I feel like a complete failure and like I haven't really achieved much of anything. Three short novels finished, not one of them remotely publishable yet. That's not much of an achievement for a 36 year old so-called writer. So I'm not really a writer, just a frustrated teacher of English to foreign students. Enough self-pity for now.....