Tuesday, May 31, 2011

#267: Go Your Own Way

My head aches in the morning.

5 degrees is not a good time to forget head-wear.

The fact that buses do not run on time, or appear to stick to a set time-table makes me grumpier when I have wait in the cold.

School kids – if you think you’re going to be embarrassed in front of a bus full of giggling school girls when I say, “Fuck off junior. Come back and talk to me when you’ve got some fuzz on your nuts,” then don’t look at me as I get on the bus, grin and nudge your mate and say, “Wassup Grandpa?”  Yes, I’m a grumpy old man and still more than agile enough to both catch you and box your ears clear off your head.

Always close the curtains when in a hotel that faces a building with windows that have a coating which means you can’t see me but I can see your naked arse prancing around.  And never, when faced with such a building, open the blinds, have a stretch and welcome the day.  It’s a good thing I didn’t have breakfast.

It now takes me thirty minutes to prepare and finish a report that used to take the previous author over half a day to do.

People are now amazed when I don’t deliver work in a timely fashion, not when I do.

Some people hate it when it takes a person thirty minutes to prepare and finish a report that used to take the previous author over half a day to do.

I always fall asleep in meetings and no amount of Red Bull can fix this.

The show Cheaters makes me laugh.  There's nothing funnier than seeing a man sprung with his pants off and his dick in some tarts mouth turning to his wife, on camera, and saying, "It's not what it looks like!"  I have no idea what it could be, but when I saw that one even Blind Pew would have known what it was.  Having said that, there are people on Cheaters who I can understand why their partners are cheating on them.

I don't understand why people allow Cheaters and other 'reality' shows to film them or to trespass on their property, let alone man-handle, harass and deprive them of their liberty.

Not all jokes go over well, nor does everyone get every joke you tell.

I can bore people to tears by talking about topics that most people can’t understand, such as the Titanic, the GFC, lies that all politicians tell, history in general, MS Office applications, vintage cars, art, web design and web-building, sports and marine biology, amongst other things.

I am well rounded and have a good grasp of knowledge.

Joey Greco is a dickhead.

Liberal Party supporters are happy to whinge over Julia Gillard telling ‘lies’ about the proposed Carbon Tax, but have all forgotten how John Howard lied each time he spoke, with the most famous being the GST lie and the Children Overboard saga. 

Some window cleaners clearly like to sing The Lion Sleeps Tonight as they clean, and ultimately crash, into windows at a 4th story level.

Some window cleaners look very much like homeless people, which is a surprise to me as they use water and soap all day.

Deleting a years worth of emails in my in-box frees up nearly a gig of space at work.

The three acoustic tracks that I have featuring Rainer Ptacek are still amongst the best things Robert Plant has ever done.

My world does not revolve around my dick.  I think that ceased to be the case quite a number of years ago now.  My world revolves around my loved ones.

My life is a quest for knowledge and improvement, not a quest for sex.

I Don’t Want To Talk About It can still bring tears to my eyes for all the right and wrong reasons as it has some of the most evocative lyrics in a song.  I can sing that song with ease.

If Rod Stewart had died in 1977 then people would remember him as a genuine talent instead of a raspy voiced guy who sang bad disco songs and had a head like a ferret wearing a worn down toilet brush.

If you don’t believe the above statement then listen to The Killing Of Georgie and remember that Rod wrote that one alone.

I can recite entire routines by Monty Python but can't remember any Shakespeare.

Each time I hear the songs Forget Her and Gone I think of an ex girlfriend of mine.  I can’t help but wonder if she thinks of me when she hears them, but I’ll never know, but I doubt it highly.  I have several songs that affect me like that for any number of reasons.

I had a dream about Hell last night.  I discovered that my own personal Hell runs like this: I find myself on stage with my monster guitar.  For some reason I begin to play the opening chords of Immigrant Song when I look over and see Justin Bieber, who promptly asks me to play it, “…more like Nickleback or Creed,” as Miley Cyrus walks out on stage.  They then begin to ‘sing’ and, try as I might, I cannot wake up…

The place where I eat lunch now knows my order before I do.  I have become predictable in that regard.

People who think that U2’s Pop album is crap are tone deaf cretins.  The two albums that were released after it were crap in comparison, but were popular in America, unlike Pop.  What does that tell you?

Mastering the Pivot Table function in Excel actually improves your life when it comes to reporting.

I wanted to be a professional drummer until I sat down and really listened to John Bonham.  I still had my hopes but then I heard Gene Krupa and knew that the dream was over.  I still drum from time to time though.

I had the same thing happen to me, guitar wise, and then I saw Eddie Van Halen and heard Steve Vai.  I still play guitar and can make that bastard howl and squeal when I want to.

I’ve met both Eddie Van Halen and Steve Vai and both were extremely nice to me.  That was a relief.  Unlike Gavin Rossdale, and some twat from Blur, both of whom I personally invited to step outside with the intention of beating the shit out them.

I’d still do it too.  Especially Rossdale.  The talentless wanker.  Gav, both you and your band suck.

I have several skills, including the ability to fart the opening chords of Smoke On The Water.  I have no idea how to make that marketable though.

Eddie Van Halen stood in a fountain signing a photo for me and then complained that his feet felt wet.

Mick Jagger once called me a ‘Cheeky cunt’.  I’m proud of that.

I know genuinely famous people; however I am not one of them.

I once sang Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue with three of the Ramones at a sound-check in 1989.  Or was it 1990?

Dave Navarro once kissed me on the mouth and asked me to run away with him.  I seriously considered about it...

I've always believed that you make the bed you lie in, so ensure that the sheets are tucked in and the quilt is a good one.

I know someone with the most amazing voice that simply does not match the delightfully kittenish look she has.

I do not want what I do not have.  I used to covet my neighbours’ oxen and suffer from jealousy, but no longer.  What is mine is mine, what is yours is yours.  So be it.

Every time I post a blog entry somebody I do not know emails me to point out the grammatical errors.  Now I deliberately place them into certain posts for fun.

I am loathed by people I will never meet, nor have I met, for their own reasons.  I find this flattering really, as I can’t loathe someone I do not know.  I deliberately antagonize them, at times, for my own amusement.

I fall in love every morning.  I have moments of desire during the day, I flirt a lot, but I fall in love again every evening when I get home.

I read something every day and I write every day.  It’s mainly non-fiction as that’s more inventive, at times, than most fiction.

I have done both of those things virtually non-stop since the mid 1970s.

I believed I could be a great fiction author until I read, in order, Huxley, C.S. Lewis, Orwell and Steinbeck.  I then gave up the dream.  I can write fiction, I just know that I could write for a million years and still not produce anything as immediate as Brave New World.

Watership Down is still one of my all time favourite books and has what I consider to be one of the most powerful exchanges of dialogue I’ve read.  I’m often dismayed to discover that some of my more literate friends have never read it.

I love being pleasantly surprised.

I want people to remember me as a person who did a lot of good, only the bulk of it went un-noticed.  I have come to terms with myself as a person, who I am, what I am and why.

I am a decent Backgammon player and am always up for a game, however these days my main opponent is the computer or my iPhone.

Celebrities are no smarter than you or I, so why do people value their opinions so much and treat their utterances like they're the words of geniuses?  Most are brainless and would happily promote the virtues of strangling kittens if they were paid enough.
When Richard Wilkins comes on the TV in the mornings it is my cue to feed the cats and get ready for the day.  The man is as vapid as they come. 

I think that the Cheaters cameramen probably upload and sell some of the footage they capture to amateur porn sites.

I have worked out my own eulogy and inscription for the grave marker.

I can get very angry listening to politicians and people of privilege talking about how hard people have it.  I lived for a good nine years in a state of relative poorness as an adult, including extended periods where I’d eat nothing but bread, noodles and baked beans for weeks on end, and hang around a local deli in the hopes that they’d have pies to give away, as I had to exist on around $25 a week, or less, for food.  Thus when people who do not know, nor will they ever know, how hard it is to scrounge for something to eat, talk about ‘battlers’ I want to punch them in the face.  I’d visit people at certain times of the day in the hopes of getting something to eat and if it wasn’t for my mother who would visit and bring food, or load me up with food when I’d visit her, I’m sure I’d have starved to death.  All through this my kids never went for anything and I’d ensure that they’d eat well, no matter how little food I personally had.

I have no tolerance for billionaires who are wealthy and ostentatious while people go without.  Some people waste more in a week than others eat in a year.  The inequities of life can frustrate me.  I share my wealth with those who are struggling.

There are not enough hours in the day for me to do what I want to do.

I write in my head and once I've worked it all out I then commit the words to screen, as paper doesn't exist as a writing tool for me anymore, and hasn't since 1993.

When people ask me what my favourite album is I just reply, “My iPod.”  It seems to work, although even with over 20,000 songs it still doesn’t have everything I want on it.

I use my iPod to block out the voices of people around me.  I have no great desire to listen to people talk at times, even when they're trying to tell me something.

I have the best feline friend in the world and I will always adore the person who gifted her to me.

My memory is fading.  There are times when I draw a total blank on things that I should, and do, know.  I now have gaps in my memory and this bothers me as I am now beginning to forget things that I need to remember.  The harder I try, the more I forget.  I have no desire to see a doctor about this, but I am convinced that it is tied in to the daily headaches that I have suffered from for the past six months.

I am liking life as I’m finding it, and I believe that Heaven, for me, will involve me being placed into the happiest moments of my life and being able to relive those moments over and over.  I believe that I shall be reincarnated, hopefully not as one of Beiber's band members or Lady Ga-Ga’s pet Chihuahua, but as a higher being, but time will tell.

I could do this all day if anyone asked me to.

I am very tired a lot of late, but I am happy.  

How are you feeling?


Anonymous said...

The ipod is exactly the tool to block out tools.... I enjoyed reading this.

Anonymous said...

I hope you let "the bear" read this post, take care.

Unknown said...

Fairly knowledgeable wisdom,seems to me.. Quite comical, I might add.