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[26 Aug 2003|11:08am] |
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mood |
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 happy |
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Went along to a film premier last night. Whilst the film sucked beyond any other every written or even thought about by a Hollywood director past, present or future, (in fact, one could go as far to say that better movies have been written by particularly talentless over-boiled cabbage leaves thrown by the worlds worst chef into the Thames) the nights entertainment on the whole was unparalleled.
Arriving at the pre-movie cocktail function I immediately decided to relieve the pressure build up brought on by an overenthusiastic use of the water cooler at work. Walking into the bathroom I walked into a wholly unexpected scene involving eight white towels, eight bow ties, eight bottles of baby oil, eight well defined male bodies and eight sets of eyes staring at me. Perhaps the phrase "sorry for interrupting your little party" wasn't the most appropriate thing for me to say, but hindsight is always 20/20. Turns out they were in fact the waiters getting into 'costume'.
The scantily clad waiters served the most appalling martini's I've ever experienced. Ok, so they were the first I've ever had. But James Bond drank them for chrissake! They cant possibly taste that bad ALL the time!
After the necessary, yet sickening display of oooohing and aaaahhhing from punters over the smattering of Shortland Street employees that happened to show up to tick off another of their obligatory contractual appearances at such events, we proceeded to the theatre for the feature.
Saw a fellow hostel inmate sitting in the row in front of us, whom for the sake of this post we'll call In Need of a Feed:
Stazi: Hey - great to see you! How are you?
In Need of a Feed: Great! What are you doing here? You dont know anyone important!
Stazi:(pause) Bye.
In Need of a Feed: Wait.....
Obviously not a suscriber to the How to win friends and influence people ethos. After the intitial exchange, the rest of the conversation became little more than thinly veiled pleasantries on my part.
Had a spare seat next to me in the movie theatre which always pleases me greatly. Just as the movie started however, a late punter, with martini glass in hand and two full shakers under the arms, decided to park himself next to me. No problem.
Rather than laughing or sighing or frowning or groaning or huffing or puffing, the punter sitting next to me punctuated his every expression of appreciation, disdain, enjoyment or otherwise with a huge nasally snort which increased in frequency, volume and velocity as the movie and alcohol consumption took its natural course.
Actually, thats a lie. At one time he did stray from what I dubbed the the patented snort method of movie appreciation and dabble a little in what a I now call the patented spray method of movie appreciation. For those not in the know, the Spray Method involves taking a mouthful of badly mixed martini in your mouth, seeing something outrageously emotive on the screen, and expressing the aforementioned emotion by opening the lips slightly to allow a fine misty spray, and exhaling forcefully for maximum coverage and velocity of the martini over the person directly in front of you.
Apparently I sank lower and lower and lower into my seat as the movie progressed, much to the general amusement of the friends sitting in the row behind me.
Despite all that, actually I mean because all that, I had a great time. Honestly. I enjoy the randomness and general chaos that seems to occur every time I go out with Jared.
In other news - had a weekend away with ma jolie fleur Rose - who incidentally warrants her own post, and will get one at some stage soon. Needless to say though, she's great in just about every sense of the word. I'll tell you all why later. Enough said.
Give someone a daffodil today. Thats your homework.
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[08 Aug 2003|08:19am] |
I spent the whole evening in front of the television last night. Disgusting. Deplorable. Not so much my behaviour, because I think the odd night of sloth is a necessary prerequisite for a sunshine-and-lollipop existence. But I have to say, having imprinted a permanent buttmark on the great big often lonely brown sofa that inhabits my lounge, I remember now why I dont watch a lot of TV.
The worst of the evening was undoubtedly the Inside Baywatch special which my tasteful and cultured flatmate insisted she wanted to watch. Do I really care about the inner motivation and behaviour on and off set of Pamela Anderson, David Hasselhoff, Carmen Elektra, Geena Lee Nolin and the balance of the frankensteineque cast? The speed at which I began despising these people proved once and for all that there are things that move faster than the speed of light. This just proves I am far cleverer than Stephen Hawkings.
But, snorting with derision and gasping with exasperation every few minutes, like an imbecile, I sat there and watched the entire show. Adding to its ratings. Inflated the worth of the advertising space. Giving the impression to the set-top-box that I was getting a measure of enjoyment from the show. This just proves I am far dumber than Stephen Hawkings.
TV should probably not be included in my escapism plans in the future.
Funnily enough, David Hasselhoff appeared on Whose Line is it Anyway?, which incidentally was at the other end of the enjoyment scale than the Baywatch trash. This just proves I am far more contradictory than Stephen Hawkings.
After I had mulled this over for a time, I went to my room, got into my running gear and pounded the pavement for half an hour and extrapolated more theories on sex, death, destruction, life, the universe in general, and the place mungbeans in the scheme of things. This just proves I am more mobile than Stephen Hawkings.
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[06 Aug 2003|01:18pm] |
Apparently I dont say enough nice things about John the Bastard in my journal. So here goes.....
I've known John the Bastard for nigh on 5 years. He has good taste in friends.
That should satisfy the critics.
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[05 Aug 2003|03:05pm] |
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mood |
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 aggravated |
] |
So I've been in a foul mood for the past week. So far, I've done pretty well not to let this influence my behaviour towards friends, colleagues, flat co-inhabitants, rude retail salespeople at the mall, obnoxious drivers, and/or people commenting on the weather. But my patience is starting to wear thin.
Ok, so we've shifted offices at work to the 8th floor. Good view, no traffic noise, no punters off the street constantly asking for directions to the IRD or to WINZ - but by God, this new open plan environment does my head in. Ex-call centre my ass! This place has been designed specifically not to deaden noise, but to magnify it. Today, I attached a note to the top of the worst perpetrator's computer which simply read "SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" I just cant stand the sound of people's voices at the moment. Especially at volume.
Ma jolie fleur Rose was captured by Wellington for most the last week. Escaping only yesterday morning, she hasnt yet surfaced from her tequila/cocktail/lack of sleep/exhaustion sated state. I'm kinda hanging out to see her. Things on this front are great. I like her. The badgers, giraffes and gnomes like her. Its only when I'm not with her I have doubts. And those are self-doubts. And they're entirely different doubts than before. Here endeth the disclosure.
Made a major boo-boo when applying for a job through an HR Agency. Who sent me an email confirming she'd got my CV and covering letter, saying she'd be in touch within a few days? None other than the MD of the HR Agency. No drama right? WRONG! The MD also happens to be the Deputy Chair of the Board of Directors at my current place of work. Fuckity, fuckity, fuck. Careless Stazi.
And the dreams. Somebody stop the dreams godammit.
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[16 Jul 2003|02:07pm] |
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mood |
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 excited |
] |
Text: mmmm..... feelin' fatigued in front of flickering firelight. Flirty female is free fursday for frolickin'
Response: mmmm... fursday fun with fab female firecat is favourite for this fella.
The incidents of goofy smiles travelling across the stazi-face have risen a hundred-fold in the last couple of weeks. Why? I think you know already.
So the Awards are over - which is cause enough for celebration. Blood, sweat and tears were shed in the name of satisfying the many often contradicting whims of the some 750 punters in attendance. General feedback: the best ever. Enough said.
Took off to Ruapehu for my third experience of snowboarding last weekend. Got up at the truly ludicrous hour of 4am to get on the road with the new floral monkey in my life and her friends. Arrived around 9:00am to find that conditions weren't conducive to imitating a snowboarder. So we played. In the snow. And made snow-people. And rumbled. And slid. And threw snowballs. And admired the view. And got cold. I never knew such beautiful flowers could be found in such cold and inhospitable places.
An impromtu party at the lodge was a lot of fun. Had a bit of a mini-deep-and-meaningful with aforementioned jolie fleur rose (amateur french - corrections expected from those who know better thanks!), which made us both feel a little more sure of the others motives, and dare I say it, feelings. Oh crap, I just used the f-word.
Boarding on Sunday was superb. I made it off the beginners slopes and only maimed a couple of punters and myself. So a job well done by all accounts. Fab weekend. Fab company. Fab times. Fab Four.
Stuff I have won or been given in the past 5 days:
1. Two red, two white wines courtesy of my lucky business card
2. $40 for leasing my music taste for 1 1/2 hours
3. Champagne and glasses for a 'job well done' (a.k.a butt kiss gift)
4. Concert tickets courtesy of 14 F Red Spades
5. A quote to repair my car ($510 +GST) courtesy of my stupidity
6. A courtesy car to drive around for 3 days (see item #5 for explanation)
In the news this morning:
Overturned big-rig truck spills 10,000kg of dog food across Auckland Harbour Bridge. Workers say the clean-up will be rrrrruff
Thats a shocker.
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[03 Jul 2003|10:33am] |
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mood |
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 nervous |
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So I met this really, really cool girl on Saturday night. I think she's absolutely fabulous. She thinks I'm pretty darn cool too. We've been out twice and I've had a fantastic time on each ocassion. I like her a lot.
We're not boyfriend/girlfriend, although I think (read: hope) things may head that way in the future. I'm not entirely sure why I want this written in my journal. I just want it recorded.
The Awards are tonite. Tomorrow I'll be a lost little boy without them.
That is all. See you all on the other side.
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[02 Jul 2003|04:08pm] |
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mood |
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 enraged |
] |
I was wrong.
Journo's and Advertising Sales Reps aren't the bane of my existence.
Speech writers are.
I want to kill them all. (but I'd settle for just one right now)
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[23 Jun 2003|04:52pm] |
I lost my temper on the phone and said a number of things that, whilst undoubtedly true, may turn around and bite me squarely on the arse one day. Its never a good idea to berate a journo. Quotes included:
1. "A first-year journo student at AUT could have done a better job than that"
2. "I've never seen such a blatant display of lazy journalism"
3. "You've had FOUR WEEKS! Is that the best you could come up with?"
4. "You call yourself an investigative writer? Investigative writers investigate. They also write. All you've done is cut and paste what OTHER people have written".
Fucking journalists. The only other time I reacted similarly in a professional sense also involved a journalist funnily enough. I need them, but I hate them. The feeling is probably mutual.
And you know the only thing worse than a fucking journo? Someone who sells advertisting. And they're equally to blame.
Bias? Incredibly. But then again, I've done both those jobs for a time.
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| Do you know what nemesis means? |
[18 Jun 2003|04:57pm] |
I was checking out the websites of a couple of other Regional Business Awards around the country. Am I being overly negative when I say that the person who wrote this has the intellectual capacity of a squashed apricot?
1. Entrants are encouraged to submit their entries in their own way, thus using their imagination and initiative.
2. All guidelines for completing your entry must be adhered to.
Its Wednesday already and I do believe that weeks are flashing by more and more quickly. Soon I'll be 65 and retiring.
On returning home from a 90 minute gym workout last night:
Flatmate: Ewww..... You have a gross sweat mark on your back
Stazi: That's nice. You know what I think is gross?
Flatmate: No. What?
Stazi: People who sit at home all night watching TV telling people that have been exercising that they're gross.
I didnt exactly throw my toys, in fact the above was said quite sweetly. But I'm damned if I'm gonna listen to that shite! Needless to say, not a lot was said after that. I'm not nasty - honest. Just sick of bitchiness in general. And people lacking in tact. Then again, we all have our moments.
Also, I think knives are a good idea. Big, fuckoff shiny ones. Ones that'll skin a crocodile. You see knives are good because they don't make any noise, and the less noise they make, the more likely we are to use them. Shit 'em right up. Guns for show, knives for a pro. - Soap
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| I am Jack's smirking revenge |
[17 Jun 2003|04:53pm] |
One day very soon I'm going to have to take a machete and clear out some of the thickening foliage threatening to choke my desk. One day. Soon.
The Boogie-Sister and her husband Jimmy the Kumara are leaving the peace, tranquility, traffic-less vista of the Auckland region and are shifting to the middle of nowhere about half and hour from Vegas. Unsure where exactly at this stage, but names like Waikite, Murupara, Ngakura, Galatea, Rerewhakaitu might be used when addressing mail to them in the future. Full marks for any foriegners (and that includes certain Naked Bankers) who can pronounce all of those correctly the first time. Go on, I dare ya....
Still, its a little sad. Auckland will only have one Stazi soon.
In other news, I have a $750 piece of art of my desk. Its made from bronze and serves as a trophy for the Business Awards. Its quite nice and I'm seriously considering flogging it for myself. What I'll actually do with it I have absolutely no idea, but its certainly weighty enough to intimidate anyone who steps to close to my desk.
I've also developed an obsession with one of the staff at the gym I go to. Every time I see her, all I want to do is listen to her talk. She's got a Scottish accent. Enough said.
See these goods? They never seen daylight, moonlight, Israelite, fanny-by-the-gas-light. If you can't see value here today you're not up here shopping, you're up here shoplifting.� - Bacon
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[13 Jun 2003|02:55pm] |
If you hold back anything, I'll kill ya. If you bend the truth or I think your bending the truth, I'll kill ya. If you forget anything I'll kill ya. In fact, you're gonna have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. Now do you understand everything I've said? Because if you don't, I'll kill ya.
- Rory Breaker.
The warmth and comfort of my goosedown duvet seemed like a far better proposition than the 12 metre walk in boxers to the shower this morning. So I went back to sleep. What I forgot however, was that I was supposed to pick up Richie on the way to work. Luckily for me I'd put the phone right next to my ear on the pillow after blindly fumbling for it to check the time 1/2 an hour earlier. The piercing alarm not only threatened to burst my left eardrum, it also caused me to smack my head with a hollow thud against my rimu bedframe. Always a good way to start the day.
Right.. gotta go... rockstars have kidnapped my son.
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| and the winner is.... |
[11 Jun 2003|04:10pm] |
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mood |
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 drained |
] |
Well, another year of Business Awards is almost over. The top-secret-confidential-I'll-kill-you-without-mercy-if-you-tell names of the winning businesses are locked away in my head. More entries. More businesses. More budget. More praise from Sir Bazza. I'm just waiting for something to hit the fan at a great rate of knots. Something always happens.
The health thing has been given a greater priority now that some of the work pressure has eased. Exercising a LOT - I'm incredibly sore, but feeling the better for it.
I'm bored so I did a quiz thingy too.
( Read more... )
Righto... the brain is suitably custard-like now.
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[26 May 2003|01:00pm] |
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mood |
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 shocked |
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Another All Black team named without me in it....when is Mitch going to notice me?
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[09 May 2003|10:59am] |
Had an epiphany the other day whilst I have sharing some jovial humour with the office co-inhabitant. The first thing I did, was look the word 'epiphany' up in the dictionary to see whether my 120 decibel cry of "EUREKA!" was justified.
As a result I've formed the patented Stazi-Checklist-for-Epiphanys. Have you had:
a) A sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something.
b) A comprehension or perception of reality by means of a sudden intuitive realisation.
I'd like to say that my epiphany involved a cure for cancer, cold fusion technology, a better tasting peanut butter, or a sure-fire way to get women into bed with me, but as with most epiphany's this one was incredibly obvious and simple. But the scary part about it was that the epiphany was basically a repitition of what I've been telling other people for years and years. I just about snorted with disgust at the realisation about what this meant.
Picture Stazi giving out wonderful theoretical advice and suggestions and theories about the exact topic for the past few years, but never actually relating it back to his own personal experiences with other people and himself. Never actually understanding how the theory applied to Stazi's life. Because I'm perfect. Because I'm always right. Because my way is the best way. Because I'm cleverer than everyone else. Get the picture fool?
Now, at the risk of sounding a little self-obsessed, it made me accutely aware that the perception I have of myself might just be a little bit further from reality than I thought. The amount of stuff you know, and I'm not talking stuff you say, but stuff you know, might are two separate entities at times.
So my epiphany? Cue the drumroll, ready with the confetti, install fresh flashbulbs in the camera........ people grow at different rates.
Yep, you got it. Thats the little pearl of wisdom that I've been saying to other people for 2 1/2 decades, but only really understood myself for a few days.
When it fell into place, a whole bunch of stuff that's happened to me in the last couple of years, just sort of made sense. Once the shock was over, it was as if some of the baggage I've been carrying was taken away. With it came a realisation that theres just some stuff we cant influence. And theres some stuff we dont know how to influence. But thats not to say we'll never know how to influence it, because people grow at different rates.
Timing is everything.
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[28 Apr 2003|04:12pm] |
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mood |
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 recumbent |
] |
"This may come a little out of left field, but I'd like to say thank you for being such a good mate, and sorry that I haven't been at times. I really should show more appreciation for the things that I have before I lose them all completely."
I did nothing to prompt getting this. Nothing. But after thinking about analysing the why, the how, the what for, the when and all the other bits for about 4.56 seconds, I decided to just say that no apologies are required, and a "thanks for the e-mail, it made me feel nice".
Change in Stazi-habitat is eminent. Even though I'm only moving 3km down the road, I no longer get to say I live in One Tree Hill. Greenlane just ain't quite the same. So I'm thinking of declaring the new house a free and independent state of the Bongolese Islands though, so I can call it whatever I damn well choose! The place is an old villa with big lawns, wooden floors, high ceilings and funny looking cupboards. New Stazi-habitat will be confirmed this evening at the inaugural meeting with future landlady. I think I might put a few sheep on the lawn rather than mow it. And a garden to grow the mint out back. hehehehe
Me and Emma are going to have a competition over who can give you the biggest, sloppiest kiss. I've been doing a rigorous regime of lip exercises to build up my muscles in that region. I've also been on a diet of badger eyeball soup which, as everyone knows, produces more saliva than any other food in the universe. So I really, really think I will win when it comes to the sloppy kiss competition.
er...... hmmmm.... should I look forward to this? Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
Righto... time to rock the house like a extremely fat vibrating chair with lime green cushions.
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[24 Apr 2003|09:02am] |
Shaun's
Battle Imp
is |
Ouurd |
Backstabbing: 4
Dodgin': 9
Guts: 9
Magic Mojo: 8
Smackdown: 6
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| </tr>
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[08 Apr 2003|02:44pm] |
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mood |
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 infuriated |
] |
"One of the SIR's brought to our attention (through comments made by several staff members) pointed out the number of spelling and grammatical inaccuracies within the Annual Report 2001-2002. These occur throughout the report and reflect adversely on our professionalism and business nuance."
Allow me to translate to above:
SIR: Service Improvement Recommendation
several staff members: One staff member
adversely reflect: What this staff member is attempting to do to my reputation
business nuance: no idea... whoever heard of the term 'business nuance' anyway?
What really makes me boil however, is that this fucker was given every damned opportunity to critique, proof, and contribute to the report months ago, but chose not to. Sure, the ultimate responsibility for sign-off was mine, and I have to accept responsibility if there's a 'that' instead of a 'the'. But hell, everybody was asked to read and critique before the damned thing was printed. Cant help but get the feeling somebody is gunning for me.
Aside from thoughts of sweet, bloody, vengeful murder, things are going reasonably well. Did a preposterous amount of cycling on the weekend covering much of the distance between Rotorua and Taupo. I really should train for next years race methinks.
In other news, New Zealand is without the Naked Banker for six weeks. The Geordie Bastard has abandoned us and left for England to visit his nearest and dearest. Last I heard, he was "just outside Bangkok looking at Thai girls with little stars covering their nipples". Lucky bastard.
Righto. Time to sharpen my hatchet.
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[04 Apr 2003|02:44pm] |
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mood |
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Once upon a time there was this dirty great tea cosy that was knitted by an old grandmother whose crazy grandchildren had left her with nothing but a piece of cheese, a set of knitting needles and used potato sacks to live off. So using her superior knitting skills granny Bubbles (for that was her name) created a tea cosy made from the sacking and instead of a pompom placed a piece of cheese on its top. She named the Tea Cosy, "Reginald Peabody Dingdong III" after her late husband Bernard Smith.
Reginald Peabody Dingdong III would hunt small woodland creatures with the cheese pompom, trap them inside the folds of his potato sack interior, and bring the tasty morsels back to Granny Bubbles for her to make pies to sell to the village idiot, Spatula Rainbow. Spatula liked the pies so much that the amount of drool escaping from betwixt his lips was used by Granny Bubbles to fill a swimming pool she had dug out the back of her house using the knitting needles which she had cunningly crafted into a yellow 400 horsepower Caterpillar all-purpose digger.
All the children would come from far and wide (well, from the next street) to swim in the enormous pool Granny Bubbles had dug. She charged them thruppence for each good..... hard..... swim. After a decade or two of doing this, Granny Bubbles took an enormous jar of the thruppence coins to a cosmetic surgeon called Dr Porkbone and asked for the standard nip, tuck and boob job that her friends at the Upper-west South Divisional Team of Northern Bowling club had gotten. She wanted to look like Susanne Paul you see, but without the accent, since she was happy with a Texas twang thanks very much.
Dr Porkbone did a wonderful job using the latest in medical wizardry : pliers, bandsaws, bits of driftwood and pieces of rudely shaped rocks. Granny Bubbles was like a new woman once the bandages came off. She was so happy she re-named herself Rachel Hunter, became a supermodel and lived happily ever after for 12 minutes before Reginald Peabody Dingdong III decided that he wanted a piece of the action and leapt on top of her head and strangled her to death for not paying him for all the mice he'd stolen to feed Spatula Rainbow.
The end
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[28 Mar 2003|04:29pm] |
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mood |
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pleased |
] |
Stazi: did you know that halibuts are the cleverest of all god's fish
John the Bastard: hows that?
Stazi: they know their 3 times tables whereas other fish only know their 2 times tables. They also recite Geoffrey Chaucer. Other fish haven't got past Pam Ayres' poetry yet
John the Bastard: ah yeah, ha, dumb fish
Stazi: which means...
John the Bastard: umm....?
Stazi: halibuts are cleverer than you. Because I'm pretty sure you don't know any Chaucer. Or any Pam Ayres for that matter either.
Oh the joy of longwinded insults. I really do value my daily dose of Bastard-baiting.
During the course of this weekend I plan to find myself a worthy occupation in the city of my birth, excercise with great vengeance and furious anger, save some money, finalise my cold fusion machine, and get a perfect score on Virtual Super12.
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| Give me some Appletons |
[27 Mar 2003|09:00pm] |
I'm watching a show about Medical Miracles. Sticking left hands to right arms. Growing ears on the back of mice. Growing someone a new nose on their forehead. Attaching someones small intestine directly to their throat. The usual sort of thursday night viewing really. With all this advancement in medical practice, you've got to wonder why the hell they cant cure athletes foot, acne and that dried-skin-on-the-elbows problem.
Spent a weekend in dirty-old-Welly visiting the Naked Banker and his cohorts for a weekend of fun and frivolity. Amongst the casualties were:
1. My forehead - which split apart and spilled claret having head-butted a lamp post.
2. One kina - sacrificed to the Snapper-gods 15m below the sea.
3. The Banker's cohorts innocence.
If nothing else, this weekend told me I shouldnt be living in Auckland. Stay tuned for a shift of Stazi-city folks.
Righto. Time for a crime spree.
Can anyone else tell the difference between regular L&P and the new Dry L&P? Cause I sure as hell cant!
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[26 Mar 2003|02:58pm] |
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mood |
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bored |
] |
Stazi: do you like tangerines?
Stazi: do you like strange glue?
Stazi: do you like live pop princesses?
Stazi: do you like chainsawing ceramic kittens?
Stazi: do you like ding dong daddy?
Stazi: do you like psychotic caramel?
Stazi: do you like torn undies?
Stazi: do you like Dr Spock?
Stazi: do you like miss piggy?
Stazi: do you like nailing coffee cups to the wooden park benches?
Stazi: do you like greener pastures?
Stazi: do you like magic makeup?
Stazi: do you like beef stock?
Stazi: do you like the moron brothers?
Stazi: do you like postcards from Delhi?
John the Bastard: LET ME GUESS, YOUR BORED
Stazi: just answer the fokkin' questions!
John the Bastard: 32 no's and 1 yes
Stazi: HA! I knew you liked makeup. This just proves it.
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[24 Mar 2003|03:10pm] |
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mood |
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 gloomy |
] |
My sandcastle was placed second in the recent competition. Nobody rememebers second place.
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| I want a free phone dammit |
[14 Mar 2003|08:41am] |
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mood |
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 determined |
] |
Breathe..... breathe...... breathe...... brain requires oxygen to function..... breathe.... breathe......
I'm gonna show off my sand castle. The pretty moats and towers I've built. The intricate shell decorations I've developed. The lashings of seaweed that create a forest surround.
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[10 Mar 2003|02:29pm] |
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mood |
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 energetic |
] |
The name "Kim Hunter" caused me a few minor headaches. For some reason I decide to repeat the name back but got things a bit wrong. Verbal dyslexia if you will.
Jewel: Do you know Kim Hunter?
Stazi: Nope, never heard of Tim Kunter.
pause
Stazi: Gee, that came out the wrong way. She's not a friend of yours I hope?
I just ordered beer online. My first alcohol related purchase over the Internet. Real Beer is offering a pretty good St Paddy's Day deal. Kilkenny is involved. Ditto Guinness. I had no choice but to purchase. A million humble thanks to the Naked Banker who tells me of these things.
Sally the Sigma was stolen from outside my place a month back. Ripped from the bosom of my love by car-boosting fiends! So I've been somewhat car-less for a little while. Decided against going with the late model Subaru which would have set my house-saving back 2 years, and instead went with a 1990 Toyota Corona sedan. Haven't decided on a name yet, but I'm into alliteration, so it has to start with a 'T' or a 'C' or a 'K'.
Been quite the traveller in recent times. Spent a couple of weeks in Australia where I got chased by a snake and flirted with a waitress from Conneticut called Mandy. Dived the Poor Knights a couple of weekends ago and chased a stingray. Was in Vegas last weekend, picking up a new car. Auckland and I just may spend some time together this weekend I think.
Lastly... I'd like to insult the following people......
John the Bastard is depriving a village somewhere of an idiot.
The Naked Banker couldn't pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.
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| "just thought I'd drop you a line and see how you are..... hope things are going well" |
[21 Jan 2003|02:17pm] |
Stazi: So your flatmates still being pains in the arse?
John The Bastard:No! everything change amazingly while you were here. Now I'm revered by them like a god
Stazi:Really?
John The Bastard: Dont be ridiculous. They're still warts on the arse of progress.
Stazi: Did you come up with that all by yourself?
John the Bastard: I read it on the back of a cornflakes packet.
Full of surprises that boy.
Busy few weeks. Off to Vegas this weekend. Then to Sydney the week after for 12 days of blissful nothingness. Oh yeah!
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|
| I doubt, therefore I might be |
[20 Jan 2003|03:32pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 working |
] |
Things I've done in 2003 so far (in no particular order)
1. Visited John the Bastard in dirty-old-Hamiltron
2. Acted as Chief Bridesmaid at my sister's wedding
3. Fallen off my mountain bike and down a dusty bank
4. "trashed a friendship"
5. Had saxaphone music blow from music stand during performance in wedding mentioned in #2
6. Imitated a taniwha
7. Imitated a monkey
8. Imitated a T-Rex
9. Fell in love with Riesling
10. Fell into a deeper level of infatuation with one of my sister's friends.
11. Imitated Tom Hanks and had a conversation with a volleyball imaginatively dubbed 'Wilson'.
12. Engaged in my first competitive swimming race in 7 years, with Jade the dog.
13. Blubbed like a baby
14. Ate the best breakfast ever cooked
15. Slept in the best chair ever built
Thats about it really.
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|
[25 Dec 2002|11:17pm] |
Another Xmas. Gluttony. DVD watching. Dog walking. Marshmallow Dicing. Inflating purple dinosaurs. Admiring new fishing rods. Intravenous Kilkenny all day.
The highlight of my day was definately the whole sleeping in lark, which to be honest, has been a rarity of late. Been having some real problems keeping my eyes shut and my brain under light-speed. Nothing to whinge about really, its just a little like living in Groundhog Day.
But Xmas aint for whining. The Banker is here and is assisting me in the search for a higher plain of existence through admiration of natures most amazing creatures; chickens, badgers, giraffes and wombles. The wombles are proving difficult to find however - they're underground rather than overground at the moment. Bloody wombling free no doubt. However, with the aid of my new fishing rod and some womble-bait (rubbish, garbage & litter) I will catch some to admire.
Righto. J2 is playing some dodgy Eighties songs and I feel obliged to sing along and make a fool of myself generally.
Merry Christmas people from Stazi (& The Naked Banker)
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[19 Dec 2002|02:44pm] |
I've calculated that if you added up the distance my mouth has moving every time I've yawned today (which has been on average every 90 seconds), my mouth and lower jaw have travelled approximately 29.4 metres since 7am. Which incidentally, isnt much less than the total distance my butt has shifted in the same period of time - given that its only gone to and from the lunch-room once today.
Perhaps even more interestingly, if you take into account the average length of each yawn (approximately 5 seconds) - I've calculated that I've spent almost 9 minutes today with my mouth wide open yawning.
Just quite who would actually be interested in any of this escapes me at the moment. If anything, all this little exercise did was prove the lengths some people will go to, to avoid doing anything resembling work. But this close to Xmas, nobody really will give a damn methinks.
The Naked Banker arrives in town on Xmas eve. I've gotten him some industrial strength, long handled cotton-buds as his gift this year. I was going to get him a woollen nose-warmer for winter, but it would have caused a world wool shortage if I'd asked for one to be made.
Cap'n Stazi gets to go on a boat to watch America's Cup Yachts on Monday. Might whittle me a wooden leg.
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[17 Dec 2002|03:10pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 thoughtful |
] |
Anyone got a spare $9000 they would be willing to donate to a worthy cause? In addtion to national press coverage, front row seats at a great party, and 3 hours worth of my time every fortnite I can promise you, I am willing to donate numerous hand-made belgian chocolates, chicken or beef (but not both) and Villa Maria wine from my good friend Georgie.
Tommorrow I get to boost the turnover of a local business by around $75,000. Whoop-dee-doo. This pales in comparison to the promise of wearing shorts and t-shirts for three weeks starting tuesday!
To keep with the increasingly strong money theme that is running through this post, the Naked Banker feels I owe him $5000.00 for being his friend. I dispute not only the amount, but also the use of the word friend. I've discovered better friends the last time I checked my hair for nits. Besides, he owes me $1.63, so he wont get his $5k until I get that.
In twelve months time... well... lets make it January 3, 2004..... if I haven't got enough cash for a deposit for a house, readers are hereby given the right to administer one (1) backhanded bitch-slap to Stazi's face. No prior warning by is required for aforementioned bitch-slap and will be met with no retaliation of any kind whatsoever from Stazi. I might print up some vouchers.
Righto. Time is money. Any sugar-mamma's out there looking for a toy-boy?
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[16 Dec 2002|03:49pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 hungry |
] |
The bliss of a quiet, otherwise unoccupied home has been met with much enthusiasm and relaxation for the past few days. She's a bit of a home-body which annoys me a little bit. I get sick to death of knowing that night after night she sits in front of the TV complaining about the world and the people in it. Maybe that's half the reason I go out so much. Good motivation to exercise though.
All of that ends from tommorrow though with her return. I think maybe I should just hurry up, get my ass into gear, win $10 million on the lottery and move the hell out into a mansion on a cliff-top overlooking the sea.
Had a silly work function on Friday night where I was accused of wearing my pajama's. Some people have no idea about general coolness and being at the cutting edge of men's fashion. They must all un-learn what they have learned. Doesn't help that they're all 20 years+ older than me. The Friday was redeemed by GG who was upset and invited me to share in her angst at Hugo's Frog Bar. Bloody nice of her really. Still, she bought me a beer so my empathy lasted for the length of time it took me to drink it. Joke... honestly.
On Saturday I declared war on Compaq. They've arsed around with my laptop for over a week, replaced the faulty DVD-CDRW combo drive with a DVD only one (fuckers!). I rang them up today and told them that they should pay for a courier to pick up my laptop because I've already made two trips into the city to drop it off. That idea went down like a lead balloon. Things got pretty heated. I asked to speak to the Manager. Decision pending. I will prevail against the multi-billion dollar demon.
Last full week of work before the season of gluttony begins. Cant wait. Last year I broke 100kg. I've got a little further to go this year given I'm currently 90kg - but I'm going to give it a damn good shot.
Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away.................
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| cherries cherish clueless carnivores |
[12 Dec 2002|02:37pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 sleepy |
] |
31.6 Oram to Patel, no run, full and wide outside the off stump
31.5 Oram to Patel, no run, left outside the off stump
31.4 Oram to Patel, no run, played to mid on
31.3 Oram to Patel, no run, odd length, bowling over to the right hander, played off the pads
31.2 Oram to Patel, no run, on the back foot, ball beats the bat with a good delivery, creates some interest in the cordon
31.1 Oram to Patel, no run, short of a length and leaves outside the off stump on the back foot
Crickinfo.com is the only thing getting me through today.
Had an evening of complete joy and unbridled immaturity at Rainbow's End last night. It was their 20th birthday and I got meself a funky invite I did. So I took along some of my more childish friends to share the experience. Aside from having an icecream fight with the Cowgirl, yelling BOOGIEBOOGIEBOOGIEBOOGIE whilst on the rollercoaster, and demanding free candyfloss because "I am quite clearly under 13 years old you foolish clown" I think I handled myself quite well.
Only a week and bit left of work for the year. About a months worth of stuff to do though. And here I am diarizing and staring at cricket commentary text. Yep, the priorities are a little skewed today.
But all remains well in Stazi-land.
My ceramice chicken (Gordon) who has been sitting quite happily on my computer since Xmas last year, decided today to attempt unassisted flight of the first time. The result was not pretty. I think he's bored and needs a holiday. Any takers?
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| A perfect start to a day..... |
[19 Nov 2002|07:29am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 embarrassed |
] |
Caltex Worker: That'll be $51.78 for the petrol thanks
Stazi: No problem [rummages around wallet]
Stazi: ummmm...... [rummages around wallet some more]
Stazi: er...... my bank card is at home on my dresser.
Caltex Worker: [silence]
Stazi: What do you usually do in situations like this?
Caltex Worker: Call the cops.
Stazi: [silence]
Caltex Worker: That was a joke.
Stazi: Glad to hear it. Will you take a pair of Nike sunglasses as security?
Caltex Worker: Yeah, sure.
Stazi: Cool. I'll be back in about 20 minutes with the money.
Caltex Worker: I'll be waiting.
If that doesn't deserve the "Plonker of the Week Award" I dont know what does.....
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[08 Nov 2002|01:12pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 anxious |
] |
Time to get my sandcastle judged by the man in the big white building......
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[07 Nov 2002|02:38pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 rushed |
] |
Banker: These pictures are fantastic, they are up there with my skills.
Stazi: I disagree, compared with your artwork these drawings are masterpieces. You have the artistic ability of a squashed apricot that is colour blind.
Banker: Well your talents are like a hedgehog stuck in a wet paper bag.
Stazi: Sticks and stones can break my bones but people with the intellectual capacity of a sunburnt raisin can never hurt me.
I am currently seeking to boost New Zealand's exports earnings by $25 million per year. I've found that if you picture a sandpit, bucket and shovel instead of the reality of the situation, it makes the work a little easier to stomach.
This weekend I see an Andrew Lloyd Webber show at the Pump House. I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the show. I also plan to eat Tepinyaki food until my guts split open and I slump to a bloody mess of tangled intestines on the floor.
This weekend I plan to do nothing which requires any thought whatsoever.
This weekend I plan to conquer Return to Castle Wolfenstein.
This weekend I plan to catch up on some much needed sleep.
This weekend I plan on breaking all of the above plans and will no doubt end up a tired chappy on Sunday night. Thems the breaks though.
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| London - A small village on Mars, just outside the capital city, Wooble |
[04 Nov 2002|01:32pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 apathetic |
] |
Stazi: I saw a job advertised in Tauranga which looks good.
Banker:It will suit you, your life is like that of an 80 year old. What's the job?
Stazi: Communications Manager for the Bay of Plenty Polytech. You realise the only reason Wellington is windy is because the empty space in your head causes a vacuum so all the air rushes towards your brain to fill up the space where your brain should be. That's why you've got so much earwax too. Your body overcompensates for a lack of brain.
Banker: It's taken me a very long time to become as simple as you. It was a challenge which I took up and I believe I have achieved it.
I am thinking about writing an opera called "The Sooty Little Chimney Sweep". A three hour extravaganza with singing, dancing, mystery, intrigue and a misunderstanding about an orange staple-gun. The only thing stopping me is a distinct lack of talent for writing operas.
The weekend came and went. The backs of my knees are sunburnt. My feet were treated to a new pair of shoes. I saw "Jesus Christ Superstar". Tried Nando's Chicken for the first time. Thats about it really.
This week I plan to stay underwater for 45 minutes, chase cows, attract people who make suspension units for cars, solve math problems, and write a story about the Economic Development of Manukau from July-01 to Jun-02.
Aside from that the only thing I have to say is that selective memory loss is bitch.
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[31 Oct 2002|05:01pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
annoyed |
] |
The attitude to life resembles a particular episode of the Young Ones right now. With shades of Blackadder. And excerpts from the 1930's Test Match between England and Australia.
Apparently if you like a girl all you have to do is end every sentence or text message with the word sexy. I can't believe I've lived 25 years and haven't been clever enough to have discovered this. And perhaps more sad, I've seen this unimaginative, lazy, gormless way of operating seem to have an actual effect. What a crock.
Restore some faith for me girls. Its surely got to take a little more effort than that to impress you??!?!?!?!!?!?!?!? Guys, please, if you like a girl, try to be a bit creative about how you communicate it.
Now I may be a judgemental asshole but what the hey I'm going to say it anyway. Bearing in mind that I've never met, seen, spoken to, or communicated with in any way the guy involved in the above situation. In fact, all I really was, was a witness to the to-ing and fro-ing of sexy sentence ending text messages and emails. So the conclusion that I reached was as follows:
1. I think the dude has no brains
2. I think he's lazy
3. He's only out to get laid
4. I have no interest in ever meeting him
And you know what, I think the girl is pretty pathetic too for buying all the bollocks he's been giving away.
Sure, the attention might be nice and its always good for the ego to be complimented. But just remember, singular words are pretty generic. So be wary of singular words. They roll of the tongue far too easily. Girls, if a guy likes you - he should at least be able to string a few setences together about why this is the case. Guys, if you like a girl, think about why you like her. Then tell her for chrissakes. Really think about it. If you're sincere, it will show.
I dont think anybody should settle for anything less than sincerity.
That dude aint sincere.
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[15 Oct 2002|09:20am] |
There is too much maturity and sensibility in the world. Let our behaviour be dictated not by grey suit wearing, balding, buereaucrats with an over-inflated sense of self importance.
Roll up a hill rather than down it.
Take a look around using a pirates telescope.
Speak loudlly and nautically to no-one in particular.
Chase sheep, yelling "mint sauce!" at the top of your voice.
Speak in tongues to strangers who are walking there children.
Have a picnic with teddy bears and cuddly toys at Cornwall park.
Mime eating a baguette.
Notify the local constabulary of trees growing at unlawful angles.
Give aforementioned trees a piece of your mind.
Declare your desk at work a Free UIndependant State of the Bongolese Isles.
Write and distribute a constitution for the above.
Where are the skinned knees and purple medical disinfectant? Where is the boredom induced stupidity? Where are all the amusingly shaped vegetables?
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| you want a Scooby snack? |
[01 Oct 2002|09:46am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 tired |
] |
Morgan: woof...... woof...... woof.......WOOF...........WOOF WOOF........ WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
Stazi:SHUT UP!!!
Morgan: (silence)
Morgan: woof...... woof...... woof.......WOOF...........WOOF WOOF........ WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
Stazi: SHUT UP!!!!
Morgan: (silence)
Morgan: woof...... woof...... woof.......WOOF...........WOOF WOOF........ WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF
At which point I ran outside and squirted water at him. That'll learn him for keeping me awake. Little bastard.
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[27 Sep 2002|02:08pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
sleepy |
] |
There is an epidemic occurring at the moment. A spate of Wisdom Teeth Extractions have occurred among my circle of aquaintances. Everybody seems to be sprouting the little buggers. As a money reducing agent, they're amongst the best. Dont think I've ever spent $1000 so quickly before. Not a lot to show for it either. Orals surgeons have made an absolute killing from people I know recently.
Heading of to the snow this evening for the first ever Stazi Snowboarding Adventure. I plan to suffer multiple head traumas and get incredibly sunburnt. Much fun will be had I'm sure.
A word of advice for people. If there is free fake tanning cream on offer at work, stay well away. But if you can't resist the temptation to try it out, put it somewhere where people wont see. Unless you want to be teased for having a circular shaped orange stain on the back of your forearm of course.
The Naked Banker, in a thoughtful, considerate mood for a change, sent me a very cool rubgy goal kicking game. I enjoyed the banter more than the game however:
Banker: If you are bored try this game, I got 8 kicks in on the easy level.
Stazi: I got 7,5444 kicks on the hardest level
Banker: You BASTARD!! I thought the most you could get was 11. I believe there has been some cheating but I haven't got any evidence of it.
Stazi:I'm as honest as a weasel that has just graduated top of the class from Honesty University with a PHD in Honesty Studies and is about to become the Honesty ambassador to the USA (the most honest place on earth).
Banker: You're as honest as a skunk who has came out of the men's loo and has got that expression of 'it smells in there but it's got nothing to do with me, Honest!'.
Stazi: You're as honest as a piece of earwax that says "no, dont be silly, of course I didnt come from th Banker's ear".
Banker: You're as honest as a puppy sitting next to a pile of poo ... "honest I never did this'.
Stazi: You're as honest as Vinnie Jones when he said "I'm a very, very placid kind of guy who likes rainbows and lambs. I'd never harm anyone".
Banker: You'rr as honest as Ben Johnson, 'I have never taken drugs, it was the baked beans for breakfast that made me go faster'.
And so it went on....... and on........... and on........... and on.........
Take care you crazy kids.
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[25 Sep 2002|01:55pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 nauseated |
] |
I'm a big fat liar.
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[23 Sep 2002|04:08pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 jubilant |
] |
I just won $38.00 on Lotto from a ticket given to me for my birthday! The whole office knows this already. I must depart to the reception area for the compulsory victory dance.
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| I rode a tank, held a General's rank |
[23 Sep 2002|01:44pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
calm |
] |
The Earth is just like a tiny, golden grain of sand. Except its whole lot heavier. With more stuff living on it.
I forgot to breathe on Saturday night. It wasn't my fault though, it was oversight in the midst of intense concentration. Thankfully, I'm still alive. And richer for the experience. But, ironically, I find myself back in the place I started. I'm a little peeved at this, since I thought I'd put that sensation in a weighted sack and tossed it forcefully into a swift-running river. Who knew it would float?
Waves of regret and waves of joy, I reached out for the one I tried to destroy
Made another significant purchase this weekend. Bought some additional diving goodies. In exchange for spending an exorbitant amount of money I was given (besides the dive gear obviously) a sausage wrapped up in a piece of bread and a cold beer. A fair exchange I thought. Many crayfish will be sacrificed to appease the Stazibellygod.
In other news. This weekend I plan to avoid breaking a leg and/or a wrist. I plan to attempt this whilst learning to snowboard.
Righto. Its time to enter the mouth of the beast that is local governement.
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[20 Sep 2002|02:38pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
thoughtful |
] |
I got a bad disease,
Up from my brain is where I bleed.
Insanity it seems,
Is got me by my soul to squeeze.
Well all the love from me,
With all these dying trees I scream.
The Angels in my dreams,
Have turned to demons of greed,
That's me.
The ship unknotted itself from its mooring and slipped quietly out to sea. A favourable wind was spotted offshore some days ago and the captain rightly chose to sail. A strong, steady, warm breeze to carry the ship to the idyllic setting in the mind's eye of the vessel's master. The captain, mind already engaged on the promise of of a gratifying journey ahead, gave not a second glance to the lonely, hunched over figure on shore.
Unlike the captain, the imaginary sweet smell of the promised rich spices from across the seas did not fill the nostrils of the forlorn wretch. In stark contrast to the captain, the wind that carried his ship towards the horizon felt bitterly cold. It nibbled at first, then bit and slowly chewed through his soul. The gusts that buffetted his figure rocked him to his very core and filled him with dread as he realised he may not set eyes on the ship again.
He stood, motionless, as he had for months in that very spot. Watching. Hoping. Praying. Too scared to move, yet too afraid to follow. With a realisation that caused him to stagger as if poleaxed, he realised that his inaction was to blame for his predicament. In those months, he did not sense the warning winds of the gathering gloom. As the wind howled its mocking laughter, the gulls of grace became buzzards, hovering, circling, looming overhead, crying out Fooooll Fooooll, tossing him their crumbs of despair.
He had been stunned by the sheer magicificence of the ship. Content to gaze upon it, not daring to board. Untrusting of his skills to handle such a vessell. He paused as a wave of realisation washed over him. There was only one ship like her. And she had sailed away forever.
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[18 Sep 2002|04:42pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 blah |
] |
A reality check was required today. And I was given one from my favourite Kangawoo who sings a really great Kangawoo Song.
Roo: So what do you want?
Stazi: I want to run away and join a circus. I want to sit on a beach and then go swimming in the surf. I want to make something exciting happen. I want to escape from myself for a while. I want everything to be good for everyone. I want to write meaningful stuff instead of the crap I write for work. I want the rest of my life to start right now. I want to change the world. I want to feel in control.
Roo: Well your future can start whenever you want. That's the joy of living your own life
Stazi: Yeah, you're right. The future starts now. Fate is just a cowards way of justifying their failures. I'm done complaining. Nothing gets achieved by sitting back and moaning.
Onwards McStazi.
Does anybody know of any positions available for a dried up old not-for-profit professional bullshit artist? Seriously considering a change of working environment. Will consider anything that doesn't involve ear-wax. Some involvement with frogs and lizards would be a bonus. Maybe I'll just pack up my troubles in my old kit bag and smile, smile, smile.
Would all the snakes who wish to stay in Ireland, please raise their right hands!
- St Patrick
Righto. Time for a crime spree.
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| she was practiced at the art of deception, I could tell by her bloodstained hands.... |
[17 Sep 2002|12:41pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
thoughtful |
] |
From the pen of a certain Naked One from dirty-old Wellington........
This is to confirm that Mr Sexy Stazi can do what ever he likes as today is his birthday. So If Mr Policeman stops Mr Sexy Stazi, Mr Sexy Stazi can tell the Policeman to get lost as the Naked Banker has told Sexy that he can do anything that he likes. If Mr Sexy walks out from a shop with a massive turnip, Mr Shop keeper cannot do anything but just stay and let Sexy be happy for the day. So to everyone out there, it's Mr Sexy's birthday and he can cry and steal if he wants to and lie if he wants to and everything else that he wants to do.
Another year. Another birthday passed me by. Into my 26th year of existence now. Fast approaching middle-agedness.
Adjourned to the Mongolian BBQ restaurant in Queen St for a small gathering of the nearest and dearest. Indulged in wanton gluttony and catered for my new found taste for Shrimp Sauce. mmmm...... shrimpalicious.
Endured the yearly phone conversation from the only true signficant ex I have. Surprised me that did. Didn't expect a peep this year. Took it on the chin and the smile didnt show signs of cracking.
Realised properly for the first time last night that people should pay more attention to the words of the Rolling Stones. Mick Jagger isnt just a pouting, strutting, grooving musician, endowed with an enormous set of lips - he's a prophet I tell ya!
Is anyone else really, really, really, really looking forward to the new Austin Powers movie?
Righto. Just remember folks, dont mess with the affairs of wizards, for you are crunchy and good with tomato sauce.
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[13 Sep 2002|03:16pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
awake |
] |
I wrote a reply to the nasty letter I receieved the other day. Four pages of calmness, politeness and explanation. The stuff I really, really, really wanted to say was left unsaid.
Stazi:How do you think I should end this letter?
Boss: What do you think?
Stazi: Well...... I cant decide between "Kindest Regards" or "I know where you live".
Boss:(laughing) Go with the first one.
Stazi: Yeah you're right, the element of surprise may be useful when I seek revenge.
Boss: Its that the Maltese blood talking?
Oh well, at least the boss sees the funny side. She knows the lady who made the complaint and she's a bit of a psycho apparently, which made me feel a whole lot better about things.
This weekend I plan to find new and exciting ways to make ear-wax statues.
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| The world is coming to an end. Please log off immediately |
[11 Sep 2002|04:31pm] |
I've stunned myself with some particularly mature behaviour of late. I broke up with the Dutch Girl for all the right, grown-up kind of reasons. Details arent necessary but what I will say is that while I feel absolutely crappy for upsetting her, I kind of feel rather proud of myself too. In the not too distant past, I would have just been nasty to her and made her hate my guts and dump me. It was easier that way.
In brighter news I got a three page letter about the Business Awards from an entrant who said:
1. I am unprofessional
2. I am unresponsive
3. I am a liar
4. I falsely advertised the Award's benefits to businesses
5. I exercised undue influence in getting them to enter in the first place
6. I should be ashamed of myself
After I'd picked up my battered and bloodied self-image up from the floor, I went home and ate Gelato. Having re-read it though - there are a heap of spelling errors. And we all know what that means.
I am having lots of fun however playing with my new laptop. It has a CD burner. Which is also a DVD player. It plays CD's. It copies CD's. Andit plays DVD's. I'm quite tickled by my new toy. Although., the Blackadder DVD I bought doesn't seem to work and I'm having real problems getting XP Professional to run through an S-Video cable to the TV. It keeps coming through black & white. Any suggestions?
Lots of anniversaries this time of year. Most of them aren't reasons to celebrate unfortunately. Do you think we could formulate a way of 'weighing' all the good stuff in the world, almost like assigning a foolproof weighting system which measures the good times? And if you had a similar system to weigh all the crappy horrible stuff, do you think the good stuff would cancel out the bad stuff? And would those results balance out per person, or as an average across all people? Do we all get a share of the good and a share of the bad?
Personally, I think its all about perceptions. And freedom of choice vs. fate.
Anyway.... there are letters of reply to write and houses to firebomb.
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[04 Sep 2002|01:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 listless |
] |
82. Thats the way it should have been today.
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| watching the admiration of one who does not deserve the affection of heaven made flesh and sweet blood |
[02 Sep 2002|01:29pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
stressed |
] |
Can someone just take me to a field and beat some sense into me. Give me a bloody good thrashing. Lay a few kicks into the ribs, a knee to the face, a few backhanded bitch-slaps. Hell, use whatever weapon or household implement you like to inflict as much damage as you see fit. I only ask that you repeat the words, screaming Give it up - its not fucking healthy for you, you idiot! whilst administering the beating. Maybe that will work. Because sure as hell, nothing else has.
I find it disturbing that despite the fact I know whats going on, I can't bring myself to doanything about it. The same old thoughts repeat. The same old things are said. The same old things keep happening. Yet, still........ I roll over like a puppy and eat the scraps that are thrown to me, hating every fucking, bitter bite. But I keep on coming back. Thinking to myself, maybe the next scrap I get tossed will taste better. But it never does.
When does hope run out? At what point do you say that enough is enough? When do you stop giving the benefit of the doubt? When do you wash your hands and move on?
I look at what I have. And its great. Life is so fucking sweet at the moment. Today is the best day of my life. I had a fantastic weekend. But I want more. More than I have right now. I want a cosmic, nirvana-like place where I don't think these things anymore. But it doesn't exist. I know that. I feel it. But damn me, I still want it.
There is a fork in the road. I've been standing in front of it for 6 months. Unmoving, mapping out the course in my mind I know each road takes. But if you know where the road goes, and you don't like the destination or the scenery on the road itself, why travel it? I know what you're thinking. I've been thinking the same thing.......
Gonna get in my tractor and build my own damned road. Demolish the ones I see in my head, and go where I want to go. Fate and that bullshit about events being pre-ordained can kiss my lily white ass. I make stuff happen. Or not happen.
Stuff that happens, good or bad, is far better than stuff you never gave the chance to happen.
I'm going to fuck things up this week. But I don't care. Because I'll live to fight another day and be better for the experience.
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[30 Aug 2002|04:37pm] |
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Almost a quarter of a century ago a small little pink sausage took his first look at the bright lights of the delivery room and let out a wail of disgust at what he saw. The world outside the hospital impressed him even less and he kept on yelling and screaming for the next 18 years. He never knew exactly why he was yelling, or even what he was yelling at. He just knew he was angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the people in it. Angry at everything. And the angrier he got, the angrier he got.
The fact he made it to his 18th year without exploding and destroying himself was not only a surprise to him, but to those closest to him also. Have no doubts, he was headed that way. But things changed. The anger stopped. And the ocean inside his head became calm for the first time.
But why was he so angry in the first place? Was he in a constant state of disappointment because his expectations of the people and the world were too high? Didn't he know how to relate to people? Was he a selfish little shit who expected his own way all the time? Couldn't he find his own identity?
Why did he change? Did the fuel that burned him burn out? Did he give up on people and the world? Did he realise he was the same decaying orangic tissue as everyone else? Did he learn to walk a mile in someone elses shoes? Did he just grow up?
The battle was fought on many fronts across many years. Progress was measured centimetre by hard-fought centimetre. Although none of the many injuries sustained to him and those around him proved mortal, the scars are there if you scratch the surface. They're slowly closing up and disappearing though - centimetre by hard fought centimetre. But there are lots of them. And they were sustained on many different fronts over a number of years.
What caused the war in the first place? Was it weakness? Was it sensitivity? Was a defect of character?
To be nobody but yourself when the world is trying its best night and day to make you somebody else is to fight the hardest battle any human being will fight.
Everyone is battling. Some of us just find it harder to win.
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stazi's journal