New remixes on Projectile Vomit
http://projectile-vomit.blogspot.com/2009/03/back-to-boards.html
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Touchy
Let me be frivolous for a second.
Aside from dicing with dodgy cyclo drivers and rambling up and down ancient temples Jo and I have found time in our SE Asian sojourn to indulge in a massage or two. Or five.
In fact, we could've called this trip Foot Rub 09 such was our dogged dedication to pampering our paws.
Massages are, as you all probably know, extremely cheap in Asia. They're also famous for unusual twisting, pulling and trampling and, of course, infamous for rubbing and tugging and massaging the baby.
When I settled in to try a Khmer (Cambodian) massage I thought I wouldn't be in for any nasty surprises. Furthermore, I was assigned a male therapist which led me to believe I probably would not be offered a 'happy ending.'
It started off innocently enough. Khmer massage is technically similar to Thai massage with similar manipulation of meridian points. Therapists also often clamber on top of you, using body weight to apply pressure with knees, thumbs and elbows. When my therapist began to crawl up the backs of my legs I thought, fair enough. He skipped over the gluteal region which was fine and started applying pressure to my lower back. So far so good.
He then proceeded to park his rear end directly onto my rear end with his package aligned neatly between my butt cheeks. He continued to massage my lower back requiring a forward and back grinding motion which made the situation in my butt a little bit like sliding a frankfurt in and out of a hot dog bun.
At this point a man begins to wonder just who exactly is going to get the 'happy ending' in this particular massage configuration.
For a gruelling sixty seconds I wondered whether my masseuse was in fact numb from the waist down and had no idea what was going on. I ceased thinking about my lower back spasm and instead concentrated on spasming my anal sphincter tight enough that if I had coal in my ass I'd poop diamonds.
I can guarantee you there was no tipping that night.
Aside from dicing with dodgy cyclo drivers and rambling up and down ancient temples Jo and I have found time in our SE Asian sojourn to indulge in a massage or two. Or five.
In fact, we could've called this trip Foot Rub 09 such was our dogged dedication to pampering our paws.
Massages are, as you all probably know, extremely cheap in Asia. They're also famous for unusual twisting, pulling and trampling and, of course, infamous for rubbing and tugging and massaging the baby.
When I settled in to try a Khmer (Cambodian) massage I thought I wouldn't be in for any nasty surprises. Furthermore, I was assigned a male therapist which led me to believe I probably would not be offered a 'happy ending.'
It started off innocently enough. Khmer massage is technically similar to Thai massage with similar manipulation of meridian points. Therapists also often clamber on top of you, using body weight to apply pressure with knees, thumbs and elbows. When my therapist began to crawl up the backs of my legs I thought, fair enough. He skipped over the gluteal region which was fine and started applying pressure to my lower back. So far so good.
He then proceeded to park his rear end directly onto my rear end with his package aligned neatly between my butt cheeks. He continued to massage my lower back requiring a forward and back grinding motion which made the situation in my butt a little bit like sliding a frankfurt in and out of a hot dog bun.
At this point a man begins to wonder just who exactly is going to get the 'happy ending' in this particular massage configuration.
For a gruelling sixty seconds I wondered whether my masseuse was in fact numb from the waist down and had no idea what was going on. I ceased thinking about my lower back spasm and instead concentrated on spasming my anal sphincter tight enough that if I had coal in my ass I'd poop diamonds.
I can guarantee you there was no tipping that night.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Consumption: Singapore part 1
Singapore seems to be an island economy solely designed as the infrastructure to support a vast network of air-conditioned shopping malls. That's probably a little more cynical than it needs to be, but today, after nine days in Singapore the sheer magnitude of the consumerism at play in this buzzing, gleamingly clean metropolis hit me square in the gut.
(Nevermind that that same gut has been spoilt by a palate-widening smorgasbord of Asian meals. Bar two instances I have not yet had two repeated meals in nine days. Mee pork, rojak, mee siam, popiah...the vocabulary needed just to sustain proper eating here is staggering.)
Singapore is a consumer's paradise. For instance, I've seen more Charles and Keith (a local shoe store chain) outlets than MacDonald's. Once, I sat in the middle of one such store during lunch and observed the shopping frenzy unfold and the tempo was more suited to a dingy flea market than upscale mall. So dense are the shopping choices that it took my travel companions three hours to move twenty-five metres worth of shopping mall.
(Small aside: whilst trying to maintain my zen in the midst of the chaos I also tried to no avail to unravel the inner workings of the female mind when hunting for that most elusive pair of pumps. I had a Eureka! moment recently when I figured out the process to buying women's bags but this process of visualising feet in shoes co-ordinated to all possible outfits already owned by a woman is evidently far too many variables for the male brain to process.)
I was hoping for a similar level of choice when it came to local music but after asking around and then hunting through a few CD stores myself I found that the Singapore music industry is fledgling in scope. A few of the rock bands I was able to sample like B-Quartet, Electrico and GreatSpyExperiment have an international and progressive sound showing lots of promise. Local urban and hiphop talent is so far unrepresented on shelves.
Thus far, then, Singapore could be representative of the best and worst of Asian cultural excesses. Pragmatic governance delivers sturdy infrastructure to give the people what they need on a day to day basis: ultra-efficient public transport, construction that actually finishes, organized and ubiquitous food outlets, a large selection of the best in consumer products from around the region. In exchange there is a feeling, reflected by some Singaporeans, that there is some suppression of free speech and the pursuit of economic and academic goals over artistic and cultural endeavours.
In the midst of this I've found Singaporeans to be a mostly friendly people, even if I had to throw a few doubles takes to understand the wonderfully inclusive beast of a language that is Singlish.
Off to Bangkok tomorrow and Phuket after that. More thoughts on Singapore to come with more photos, as well as For Men: How Women Buy Bags.
(Me tasting durian for the first time: not recommended if the idea of a plastic/creamy/strandy fruit that smells like feet and makes you feel hot inside doesn't appeal to you)
(Kaya toast - wafer crunchy bread with a spread made of ?coconut)
(Rojak - a salad dressed with a thick sweet prawn based dressing coated in peanut)
(Nevermind that that same gut has been spoilt by a palate-widening smorgasbord of Asian meals. Bar two instances I have not yet had two repeated meals in nine days. Mee pork, rojak, mee siam, popiah...the vocabulary needed just to sustain proper eating here is staggering.)
Singapore is a consumer's paradise. For instance, I've seen more Charles and Keith (a local shoe store chain) outlets than MacDonald's. Once, I sat in the middle of one such store during lunch and observed the shopping frenzy unfold and the tempo was more suited to a dingy flea market than upscale mall. So dense are the shopping choices that it took my travel companions three hours to move twenty-five metres worth of shopping mall.
(Small aside: whilst trying to maintain my zen in the midst of the chaos I also tried to no avail to unravel the inner workings of the female mind when hunting for that most elusive pair of pumps. I had a Eureka! moment recently when I figured out the process to buying women's bags but this process of visualising feet in shoes co-ordinated to all possible outfits already owned by a woman is evidently far too many variables for the male brain to process.)
I was hoping for a similar level of choice when it came to local music but after asking around and then hunting through a few CD stores myself I found that the Singapore music industry is fledgling in scope. A few of the rock bands I was able to sample like B-Quartet, Electrico and GreatSpyExperiment have an international and progressive sound showing lots of promise. Local urban and hiphop talent is so far unrepresented on shelves.
Thus far, then, Singapore could be representative of the best and worst of Asian cultural excesses. Pragmatic governance delivers sturdy infrastructure to give the people what they need on a day to day basis: ultra-efficient public transport, construction that actually finishes, organized and ubiquitous food outlets, a large selection of the best in consumer products from around the region. In exchange there is a feeling, reflected by some Singaporeans, that there is some suppression of free speech and the pursuit of economic and academic goals over artistic and cultural endeavours.
In the midst of this I've found Singaporeans to be a mostly friendly people, even if I had to throw a few doubles takes to understand the wonderfully inclusive beast of a language that is Singlish.
Off to Bangkok tomorrow and Phuket after that. More thoughts on Singapore to come with more photos, as well as For Men: How Women Buy Bags.
(Me tasting durian for the first time: not recommended if the idea of a plastic/creamy/strandy fruit that smells like feet and makes you feel hot inside doesn't appeal to you)
(Kaya toast - wafer crunchy bread with a spread made of ?coconut)
(Rojak - a salad dressed with a thick sweet prawn based dressing coated in peanut)
Monday, December 29, 2008
Lazarus leaving
About to leave Australia for the first time in ten years.
I think I'm nervous. I've had irritable bowel for the last three days. Travel is not one of those things that I'm usually taken to - I prefer to exit my own comfort zone through uncomfortable introspection or moderate social embarrassment on home soil, but I'm looking at this as a chance to expand my horizons.
Have been doing push-ups in a vain (read: unsuccessful) attempt to appear more menacing should there be some kind of physical confrontation I need to fight my way out of.
Very much the travel virgin, and the big wide world might eat me up. See you on the other side.
Have a happy new year!
I think I'm nervous. I've had irritable bowel for the last three days. Travel is not one of those things that I'm usually taken to - I prefer to exit my own comfort zone through uncomfortable introspection or moderate social embarrassment on home soil, but I'm looking at this as a chance to expand my horizons.
Have been doing push-ups in a vain (read: unsuccessful) attempt to appear more menacing should there be some kind of physical confrontation I need to fight my way out of.
Very much the travel virgin, and the big wide world might eat me up. See you on the other side.
Have a happy new year!
Monday, March 03, 2008
King's disciples
(also posted on Projectile Vomit)
Michael Jackson ft Justin Timberlake and Clipse - Billie Jean (studiogypsy remix)
This is my musical response to the remixes that latch onto the 25th anniversary re-release of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller', the biggest selling album of all time. Kanye West's version of 'Billie Jean' and will.i.am's remix of 'The girl is mine' are passable efforts mostly because the respective producers are wise enough to get out of the way of the musical juggernaut of the 80s. When the producers decide to try to recreate the Santana new-school-meets-old-school vibe in 'Wanna be startin' something' (Akon) and 'Beat it' (Fergie via will.i.am) the results are what you expect: even 25 years on Jackson's electric vocals remind you why he was the king, and why Akon and Fergie will be remembered only as mere bumfarts from the colon of commercial pop.
Michael Jackson ft Justin Timberlake and Clipse - Billie Jean (studiogypsy remix)
This is my musical response to the remixes that latch onto the 25th anniversary re-release of Michael Jackson's 'Thriller', the biggest selling album of all time. Kanye West's version of 'Billie Jean' and will.i.am's remix of 'The girl is mine' are passable efforts mostly because the respective producers are wise enough to get out of the way of the musical juggernaut of the 80s. When the producers decide to try to recreate the Santana new-school-meets-old-school vibe in 'Wanna be startin' something' (Akon) and 'Beat it' (Fergie via will.i.am) the results are what you expect: even 25 years on Jackson's electric vocals remind you why he was the king, and why Akon and Fergie will be remembered only as mere bumfarts from the colon of commercial pop.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Projectile vomit
I know it's been a long time since posts. Just to reassure you all I'm not dead - my friend n.t. and I have set up another blog to focus more on the creative aspects of our lives:
projectile-vomit
Two posts up there from me already. I'll post my vomits to projectile-vomit to this blog too so you only have to check out one place if you want, but n.t. will have interesting vomits of her own in time for you to peruse too!
projectile-vomit
Two posts up there from me already. I'll post my vomits to projectile-vomit to this blog too so you only have to check out one place if you want, but n.t. will have interesting vomits of her own in time for you to peruse too!
Friday, August 10, 2007
Letter to my MP. It's a start.
My good friend Bohemian Rhapsody is up in the Northern Territory experiencing the changes that are going on following the Government's radical and highly suspect intervention to curb child sexual abuse in indigenous communities. She has been there since the intervention was suggested, and now, long after the issue died away in the local press, she's still there and she emailed me today.
It's easy to forget things when you're removed from their immediacy. I'll admit to having not thought about it for a while, but after she emailed me I decided to make a start. Thoughts are only thoughts until we give them voice through action.
If you want more information on this issue you can find it here at the Australians for Native Title and Reconcilliation site.
What follows is my email my MP Ms Nicola Roxon. I urge you to do the same. Find your MP here at the AEC website.
***
Dear Ms Roxon,
I'm angry but not surprised at crisis-whore John Howard.
I'm writing with deep concerns and misgivings about the Government's paternalistic response to the Little Children are Sacred report. I'm writing with the hope that the Labor party has the courage and wisdom to uphold basic human rights in this situation, and to advocate for intelligent and comprehensive solutions to the problem.
The logic behind much of the proposals highly is suspect and defective, flying in the face of both recommendations that arise from both experts in the field as well as the lessons learnt from general world history.
Prohibition didn't work for the Americans in the 1920s and they didn't have to contend with the complex cultural issues that exist for indigenous Australians. Does John Howard have his nose so deep into the backsides of the Americans that he cannot remember this?
I hope that the vision of the Labor party is not so clouded.
The proposed changes to strip away the permit system and land titles from Aboriginal communities makes me wonder about the last time I saw a nasty land title wander out of a filing cabinet and beat up a poor unsuspecting indigenous child.
Oh wait - wait, I remember when - it was in the Dark Ages, when using logic and reason got you burnt at the stake, or hung.
The other thing I want to touch on is the fact that there will be provisions exempting this legislation from the Racial Discrimination Act.
You know that if this happened to any other ethnic group, particularly any that might reside within your electorate, there would be widespread outrage.
The remoteness of the indigenous communities involved means that exposure of this issue is limited and I will be the first to admit that I only know about it because I have a friend who is in the Northern Territory on the ground, in the field, experiencing it firsthand.
I paraphrase my friend in saying that the Government's actions violate the principles of democracy and fairness this nation is meant to be built upon. Any emotional connection to the Aboriginal people notwithstanding, I cannot stand by a Government that employs myopic problem solving skills that sacrifice basic ethical standards.
In closing, I hope the Labor party can serve as a vital check against this madness. Have you and your colleagues read the Combined Aboriginal Organizations proposed plan?
http://www.antar.org.au/content/view/491/1/
Thanks for your time. Yours in good faith,
Dr David Mai
MBBS BSc(Med)
Western Health Footscray
***
It's easy to forget things when you're removed from their immediacy. I'll admit to having not thought about it for a while, but after she emailed me I decided to make a start. Thoughts are only thoughts until we give them voice through action.
If you want more information on this issue you can find it here at the Australians for Native Title and Reconcilliation site.
What follows is my email my MP Ms Nicola Roxon. I urge you to do the same. Find your MP here at the AEC website.
***
Dear Ms Roxon,
I'm angry but not surprised at crisis-whore John Howard.
I'm writing with deep concerns and misgivings about the Government's paternalistic response to the Little Children are Sacred report. I'm writing with the hope that the Labor party has the courage and wisdom to uphold basic human rights in this situation, and to advocate for intelligent and comprehensive solutions to the problem.
The logic behind much of the proposals highly is suspect and defective, flying in the face of both recommendations that arise from both experts in the field as well as the lessons learnt from general world history.
Prohibition didn't work for the Americans in the 1920s and they didn't have to contend with the complex cultural issues that exist for indigenous Australians. Does John Howard have his nose so deep into the backsides of the Americans that he cannot remember this?
I hope that the vision of the Labor party is not so clouded.
The proposed changes to strip away the permit system and land titles from Aboriginal communities makes me wonder about the last time I saw a nasty land title wander out of a filing cabinet and beat up a poor unsuspecting indigenous child.
Oh wait - wait, I remember when - it was in the Dark Ages, when using logic and reason got you burnt at the stake, or hung.
The other thing I want to touch on is the fact that there will be provisions exempting this legislation from the Racial Discrimination Act.
You know that if this happened to any other ethnic group, particularly any that might reside within your electorate, there would be widespread outrage.
The remoteness of the indigenous communities involved means that exposure of this issue is limited and I will be the first to admit that I only know about it because I have a friend who is in the Northern Territory on the ground, in the field, experiencing it firsthand.
I paraphrase my friend in saying that the Government's actions violate the principles of democracy and fairness this nation is meant to be built upon. Any emotional connection to the Aboriginal people notwithstanding, I cannot stand by a Government that employs myopic problem solving skills that sacrifice basic ethical standards.
In closing, I hope the Labor party can serve as a vital check against this madness. Have you and your colleagues read the Combined Aboriginal Organizations proposed plan?
http://www.antar.org.au/content/view/491/1/
Thanks for your time. Yours in good faith,
Dr David Mai
MBBS BSc(Med)
Western Health Footscray
***
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Bump.
Just to get that maudlin quarter-life crisis post off the top of the page.
Something to amuse you -
Top Five Vicious Slurs hurled at me by demented patients in the last 48 hours
1. You're a Fathead
2. You're a Ratbag
3. You're a Louse
4. I'm gonna stab you
5. You're going to hell for what you've done, I hope you're parents can't see you now
Awesome. Loving it! Even got to do this:
Pt: "Why won't you own up to what you've done to my husband?" (I have nothing to do with her husband)
Me: "...I can't lie to you...see you!"
Simpsons Movie, out late July!
***
Re: the Northern Territory Children are Sacred controversy.
John Howard is a total crisis-whore. That said, while I don't think what he's chosen to do is a good long term solution, at least the action and exposure of the topic may help kickstart real thought and planning about it. My question is a more long term one though (post on this issue soon - I've been re-writing it for hours and my head hurts).
Is assimilation truly a dirty word?
More on this, after the break.
Just to get that maudlin quarter-life crisis post off the top of the page.
Something to amuse you -
Top Five Vicious Slurs hurled at me by demented patients in the last 48 hours
1. You're a Fathead
2. You're a Ratbag
3. You're a Louse
4. I'm gonna stab you
5. You're going to hell for what you've done, I hope you're parents can't see you now
Awesome. Loving it! Even got to do this:
Pt: "Why won't you own up to what you've done to my husband?" (I have nothing to do with her husband)
Me: "...I can't lie to you...see you!"
Simpsons Movie, out late July!
***
Re: the Northern Territory Children are Sacred controversy.
John Howard is a total crisis-whore. That said, while I don't think what he's chosen to do is a good long term solution, at least the action and exposure of the topic may help kickstart real thought and planning about it. My question is a more long term one though (post on this issue soon - I've been re-writing it for hours and my head hurts).
Is assimilation truly a dirty word?
More on this, after the break.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
I guess Mr Mayer was right
Things aren't going so well. I think I've hit that quarter life crisis.
Events have transpired recently that has forced me to re-evaluate the twenty-five years I've lived on this planet and I've come to the conclusion that the person I have been might not truly be me, but merely a shell, a vessel carrying other peoples' hopes and dreams and their values.
In exchange for this fare they protected me from the winds and storms of the world and I have been sailing in smooth waters - riding the current of rivers draining to who knows where without any engine of my own.
As a consequence, if I may continue with the nautical analogy, instead of being bouyancy to those around me I become an anchor, desperately latching onto anything with a vague sense of direction.
***
Some of you reading this might understand that this has been prompted by girl problems, which is true. Some of you might think that I'm being melodramatic, which may be true (we aim to entertain here), but there's still truth in this.
***
So I'm thinking.
I'm thinking that it's difficult to change twenty five years of ingrained positively-reinforced behaviours, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that it's difficult to imagine being really, truly responsible for my own life for the first time, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that it might be difficult, but I might have to reconsider being a doctor, at least for the moment.
I'm thinking that it might be difficult to relax and let some mistakes happen, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that I hope I don't make too many choices that will disappoint people, but it might have to happen.
***
Wish me luck. I'll keep you posted.
Events have transpired recently that has forced me to re-evaluate the twenty-five years I've lived on this planet and I've come to the conclusion that the person I have been might not truly be me, but merely a shell, a vessel carrying other peoples' hopes and dreams and their values.
In exchange for this fare they protected me from the winds and storms of the world and I have been sailing in smooth waters - riding the current of rivers draining to who knows where without any engine of my own.
As a consequence, if I may continue with the nautical analogy, instead of being bouyancy to those around me I become an anchor, desperately latching onto anything with a vague sense of direction.
***
Some of you reading this might understand that this has been prompted by girl problems, which is true. Some of you might think that I'm being melodramatic, which may be true (we aim to entertain here), but there's still truth in this.
***
So I'm thinking.
I'm thinking that it's difficult to change twenty five years of ingrained positively-reinforced behaviours, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that it's difficult to imagine being really, truly responsible for my own life for the first time, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that it might be difficult, but I might have to reconsider being a doctor, at least for the moment.
I'm thinking that it might be difficult to relax and let some mistakes happen, but it'll be necessary.
I'm thinking that I hope I don't make too many choices that will disappoint people, but it might have to happen.
***
Wish me luck. I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
A simple paradox: part 1
So it seems the unthinkable has happened.
I got a date.
And then another. And another.
A noun (date n.) became a verb (dating v.) and there are a multitude of adjectives to describe this unexpected turn of events.
***
This is not the only reason why I've been offline of late. Things have been generally going well at work - I have been the anaesthetic resident for the last six weeks which makes me like a third nipple - unnecessary and obtrusive. There is intrinsically something more interesting about struggle, of which I've been doing very little of recently, and besides, it seems unfair to brag about how good work is for me now, when it isn't for many others.
Still, work turns up some gems. Yesterday my anaesthetic boss started waxing nostalgically about mediterranean romance and just as we were all heading to a warm, fuzzy, sun-soaked, beach-lined, soft-focus Danielle Steele place he promptly nuzzled his face into the imaginary bosom of a well-endowed imaginary Italian lady.
"When I was travelling through there I didn't have much money so I had to settle for big mama," lamented he.
Before you judge him, remember that he plays with gases for a living.
***
Sometimes when I think about the recent unexpected turn of events I recall the opening monologue to Woody Allen's Annie Hall, where he paraphrases Groucho Marx and Freud. "I'd never want to be part of a club that would have me as one of its members," he quips, in relation to his woes with women.
I don't know how I'm dating this girl. She's bright, sparkly, self-assured and cute. I'm slow, slightly dull, have insecurities you can park battleships next to and usually ony get told I'm handsome by demented people in hospital (not always patients!). I'm not sure what she sees in it.
I think, interestingly, that outwardly she's probably not the obsessively artsy-fartsy muse that I think and people think I've been chasing for years either.
But before you think I'm going to get all Woody Allen (or, Moses forbid, Jerry Seinfeld) on you and let my neuroses implode this situation, I'm going to flip it on you.
Check it, coz I'm easy, easy like Sunday morning.
(Maybe we'll take that back, because that song is actually about a break-up. Did you realize that?)
***
There's that old chestnut that states that you can only love others if you love yourself. It's got another permutation that more or less says that other people can't complete you if you're incomplete to start with.
I, being a naive romantic, have had problems with this idea for a long time. I liked the idea, sadistic as it may be, that someone else out there might have something so special that the absence of it in your life made life suck. Hard.
The idea that you ought to be complete without others seemed to imply to me that you really ought not to need or want anything from anyone else. The counterpoint clearly then was also, frighteningly, that they ought not need or want anything from you. They are complete themselves too, no? Let's look at some examples of famous people outgrowing their 'significant others' -
Diana didn't need the Supremes, Beyonce didn't need Destiny's Child and Justin didn't need Nsync (although he might need Timbaland). DeNiro didn't need Scorsese to get his Oscar and Scorsese didn't need DeNiro to *finally* get his (although he did have Mark "F*ckin*" Wahlberg). And George Bush certainly doesn't need Tony Blair, John Howard or Iraq to look like an idiot, but sure enough he's got them.
Where is the romance in a land of well-adjusted people?
Might Romeo and Juliet have been more tragic if, at the end, Juliet, upon finding her beloved deceased, thought to herself, "Well, I'm an independent woman clever enough to stage my own death and maybe I don't need skinny pre-The Departed Leonardo DiCaprio. I might as well retire to an anonymous Fijian island and release posthumous rap albums"?
Certainly Jerry Maguire wouldn't've been the same.
And what of marriage and monogamy in a world where people are complete?
***
Stay tuned for part 2, where I'll hypothetically massacre more Western institutions for the sake of spirited discussion and a few laughs!
(I might even get to the point)
I got a date.
And then another. And another.
A noun (date n.) became a verb (dating v.) and there are a multitude of adjectives to describe this unexpected turn of events.
***
This is not the only reason why I've been offline of late. Things have been generally going well at work - I have been the anaesthetic resident for the last six weeks which makes me like a third nipple - unnecessary and obtrusive. There is intrinsically something more interesting about struggle, of which I've been doing very little of recently, and besides, it seems unfair to brag about how good work is for me now, when it isn't for many others.
Still, work turns up some gems. Yesterday my anaesthetic boss started waxing nostalgically about mediterranean romance and just as we were all heading to a warm, fuzzy, sun-soaked, beach-lined, soft-focus Danielle Steele place he promptly nuzzled his face into the imaginary bosom of a well-endowed imaginary Italian lady.
"When I was travelling through there I didn't have much money so I had to settle for big mama," lamented he.
Before you judge him, remember that he plays with gases for a living.
***
Sometimes when I think about the recent unexpected turn of events I recall the opening monologue to Woody Allen's Annie Hall, where he paraphrases Groucho Marx and Freud. "I'd never want to be part of a club that would have me as one of its members," he quips, in relation to his woes with women.
I don't know how I'm dating this girl. She's bright, sparkly, self-assured and cute. I'm slow, slightly dull, have insecurities you can park battleships next to and usually ony get told I'm handsome by demented people in hospital (not always patients!). I'm not sure what she sees in it.
I think, interestingly, that outwardly she's probably not the obsessively artsy-fartsy muse that I think and people think I've been chasing for years either.
But before you think I'm going to get all Woody Allen (or, Moses forbid, Jerry Seinfeld) on you and let my neuroses implode this situation, I'm going to flip it on you.
Check it, coz I'm easy, easy like Sunday morning.
(Maybe we'll take that back, because that song is actually about a break-up. Did you realize that?)
***
There's that old chestnut that states that you can only love others if you love yourself. It's got another permutation that more or less says that other people can't complete you if you're incomplete to start with.
I, being a naive romantic, have had problems with this idea for a long time. I liked the idea, sadistic as it may be, that someone else out there might have something so special that the absence of it in your life made life suck. Hard.
The idea that you ought to be complete without others seemed to imply to me that you really ought not to need or want anything from anyone else. The counterpoint clearly then was also, frighteningly, that they ought not need or want anything from you. They are complete themselves too, no? Let's look at some examples of famous people outgrowing their 'significant others' -
Diana didn't need the Supremes, Beyonce didn't need Destiny's Child and Justin didn't need Nsync (although he might need Timbaland). DeNiro didn't need Scorsese to get his Oscar and Scorsese didn't need DeNiro to *finally* get his (although he did have Mark "F*ckin*" Wahlberg). And George Bush certainly doesn't need Tony Blair, John Howard or Iraq to look like an idiot, but sure enough he's got them.
Where is the romance in a land of well-adjusted people?
Might Romeo and Juliet have been more tragic if, at the end, Juliet, upon finding her beloved deceased, thought to herself, "Well, I'm an independent woman clever enough to stage my own death and maybe I don't need skinny pre-The Departed Leonardo DiCaprio. I might as well retire to an anonymous Fijian island and release posthumous rap albums"?
Certainly Jerry Maguire wouldn't've been the same.
TOM CRUISE
"You complete...me."RENEE ZELWEGER
"Well, actually, I'm doing fine over here, I've got my kid and he's alive and well fed, I've got my sister and her group of girlfriends, so why don't you go and take your Scientology someplace else?"And what of marriage and monogamy in a world where people are complete?
***
Stay tuned for part 2, where I'll hypothetically massacre more Western institutions for the sake of spirited discussion and a few laughs!
(I might even get to the point)
Saturday, March 03, 2007
New sound
I'm a bit mystified by this whole 'emo' music thing. As far as I can gather from my kid sister the main defining characteristic of emo bands are the tight jeans and floppy haircuts, which doesn't help me imagine them any differently from bands from the 80s.
I'm spinning the new disc from Fall Out Boy, called Infinity on High, which I'm told is sort of emo-pop. It's a pretty catchy mix of rock styles - a little bit Coldplay/U2 anthemic, a little bit Maroon 5 crooning, and very much punk.
Their lyrics are the best (and the true emo) part, with titles like "I'm like a lawyer (how I'm always trying to get you off)", lines like "the best way to make it through with hearts and wrists intact is to realize two out of three ain't bad" and "I want these words to make the wrong things right, but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life."
C-C-Crazy C-C-Catchy!
I'm spinning the new disc from Fall Out Boy, called Infinity on High, which I'm told is sort of emo-pop. It's a pretty catchy mix of rock styles - a little bit Coldplay/U2 anthemic, a little bit Maroon 5 crooning, and very much punk.
Their lyrics are the best (and the true emo) part, with titles like "I'm like a lawyer (how I'm always trying to get you off)", lines like "the best way to make it through with hearts and wrists intact is to realize two out of three ain't bad" and "I want these words to make the wrong things right, but it's the wrongs that make the words come to life."
C-C-Crazy C-C-Catchy!
You've read this post before
I'll forgive you if you read this post and feel deja vu. There's not much new happening right now, and the old things are recycling themselves.
I'd had a long day at a Paediatric Life Support course, so some friends and I went out and hit the floors last night. The regularly scheduled program ensued - that is, I went after an asian female with black hair and of moderate height, and inevitably, I got owned.
I got caught especially flat footed this time though - I approached her friend by gently tapping her on the elbow and the immediate response was a scared look and, "No."
I mean, what?
I hadn't even opened my mouth. There are plenty of questions I might expect a "No" response to - "Do you have herpes?" "Should Australia pander more to American global politics?" - but my mere presence hasn't done that before.
The girl I was actually hoping to speak to broke in and explained, "Sorry, she has a boyfriend." Once again, behind the eight ball, my only instinctual response was to cut to the chase.
"Well, actually, I was working up the courage to ask you for a dance." I forget her reaction. I got her name, and discovered that she "wasn't really" available.
Suffice to say the night didn't get better from there. Even a brutal Barcardi 151 shot and the rip-roaring Neptunes beat under JT's Like I Love You didn't help me recover from the disappointment of that exchange.
C'est la vie. We keep going.
I'd had a long day at a Paediatric Life Support course, so some friends and I went out and hit the floors last night. The regularly scheduled program ensued - that is, I went after an asian female with black hair and of moderate height, and inevitably, I got owned.
I got caught especially flat footed this time though - I approached her friend by gently tapping her on the elbow and the immediate response was a scared look and, "No."
I mean, what?
I hadn't even opened my mouth. There are plenty of questions I might expect a "No" response to - "Do you have herpes?" "Should Australia pander more to American global politics?" - but my mere presence hasn't done that before.
The girl I was actually hoping to speak to broke in and explained, "Sorry, she has a boyfriend." Once again, behind the eight ball, my only instinctual response was to cut to the chase.
"Well, actually, I was working up the courage to ask you for a dance." I forget her reaction. I got her name, and discovered that she "wasn't really" available.
Suffice to say the night didn't get better from there. Even a brutal Barcardi 151 shot and the rip-roaring Neptunes beat under JT's Like I Love You didn't help me recover from the disappointment of that exchange.
C'est la vie. We keep going.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
What gets me through the shift
Me: "So, she's painfree and everything seems fine. I don't think there's anything wrong and she can go home."
Boss doc: "That sounds good to me. Tell her there's nothing to worry about...well, there's plenty else to worry about...Palestine, global warming, North Korea...but nothing to worry about that we can do anything about."
Me: "Right. Aside from unforeseen nuclear conflict, if she gets pain again she can come back."
Boss doc: "Exactly. If she gets worse and dies, she can come back."
Me: "And if she's well enough to come back from the grave, we'll just send her home again."
Boss doc: "You're learning."
Boss doc: "That sounds good to me. Tell her there's nothing to worry about...well, there's plenty else to worry about...Palestine, global warming, North Korea...but nothing to worry about that we can do anything about."
Me: "Right. Aside from unforeseen nuclear conflict, if she gets pain again she can come back."
Boss doc: "Exactly. If she gets worse and dies, she can come back."
Me: "And if she's well enough to come back from the grave, we'll just send her home again."
Boss doc: "You're learning."
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
14th of February
Apologies for being offline for awhile, but the Banana is back! I've been away on the Gold Coast, flirting unsuccessfully with Korean girls, then back through Sydney flirting with the idea of flirting, then back right down to earth (earth being Sunshine hospital ED).
***
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone who is single today! To the rest of you in relationships, if you didn't already hear it today, then...
...maybe you should try being single. Muhaha. Apparently the Koreans have a "Black" day in April where the singles from Valentine's Day commiserate by getting together and having black bean noodles (Jajangmyeon). Slightly morbid, but black is more hip than the extreme reds and whites of this Hallmark holiday ;)
Other noteworthy 14th February anniversaries -
1) St Valentine's Day Massacre of the Bugs Moran's henchmen by Al Capone's goons
2) Iranian leader Ruhollah Khomeini issues a fatwa encouraging Muslims to kill Salman Rushdie, the author of The Satanic Verses.
3) Discovery of Lawrencium, element 103
...hmm...
I guess none of those are really very noteworthy. I'm just hiding from Valentine's Day. I do want to thank the two sweet friends who sent thoughtful platonic messages to me today though, big hugs ;)
***
The first printing of FALLING STARS NEED PARACHUTES rolled off the press today, and my Mum immediately picked up a glaring grammatical error (sigh). Remember kids - if it's a contraction it's I-T-APOSTROPHE-S, but if it's possessive it's just I-T-S. Download a low-res copy of the pdf (grammatical error corrected) here.
The colors were problematic. I had finished most of the book when I was advised to warm up the colours a bit, which I achieved on the original page by tinting some blues with green. Subsequently the transition from page to digital through a scanner robbed the pages of any subtlety in colour, and in particular, those greens I tried to get in there. So the pages you see in the pdf are a little too red and a little too blue. I tried to adjust the colours in Photoshop but it just looks odd, so I've left it for the moment.
I showed the book to my brother Tim, and being the enterprising chap he is, immediately seized on the idea of mass production. It could be, with the proper marketing, my ticket out of medicine! In the works already are a Star action figure with Kung-Fu grip and automatic parachute. For diversification Tim and I decided that in the next installment Saburo gets a car *and* a beach house and that way we'll have cornered the entire merchandising market. JK Rowling and Barbie hold on to your riches, we're coming after YOU!
***
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone who is single today! To the rest of you in relationships, if you didn't already hear it today, then...
...maybe you should try being single. Muhaha. Apparently the Koreans have a "Black" day in April where the singles from Valentine's Day commiserate by getting together and having black bean noodles (Jajangmyeon). Slightly morbid, but black is more hip than the extreme reds and whites of this Hallmark holiday ;)
Other noteworthy 14th February anniversaries -
1) St Valentine's Day Massacre of the Bugs Moran's henchmen by Al Capone's goons
2) Iranian leader Ruhollah Khomeini issues a fatwa encouraging Muslims to kill Salman Rushdie, the author of The Satanic Verses.
3) Discovery of Lawrencium, element 103
...hmm...
I guess none of those are really very noteworthy. I'm just hiding from Valentine's Day. I do want to thank the two sweet friends who sent thoughtful platonic messages to me today though, big hugs ;)
***
The first printing of FALLING STARS NEED PARACHUTES rolled off the press today, and my Mum immediately picked up a glaring grammatical error (sigh). Remember kids - if it's a contraction it's I-T-APOSTROPHE-S, but if it's possessive it's just I-T-S. Download a low-res copy of the pdf (grammatical error corrected) here. The colors were problematic. I had finished most of the book when I was advised to warm up the colours a bit, which I achieved on the original page by tinting some blues with green. Subsequently the transition from page to digital through a scanner robbed the pages of any subtlety in colour, and in particular, those greens I tried to get in there. So the pages you see in the pdf are a little too red and a little too blue. I tried to adjust the colours in Photoshop but it just looks odd, so I've left it for the moment.
I showed the book to my brother Tim, and being the enterprising chap he is, immediately seized on the idea of mass production. It could be, with the proper marketing, my ticket out of medicine! In the works already are a Star action figure with Kung-Fu grip and automatic parachute. For diversification Tim and I decided that in the next installment Saburo gets a car *and* a beach house and that way we'll have cornered the entire merchandising market. JK Rowling and Barbie hold on to your riches, we're coming after YOU!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Wicked Wango Wednesday
Immersed myself in "Pan's Labyrinth" tonight at the cinema - my first great film of 2007. It tells the story of a little girl's escape into a fantasy realm admist the chaos of the Spanish Civil War. It is genuinely sad and moving, imaginative and in many parts intensely uncomfortable - not just for the fantasy aspects of it, but for the horror that is conjured up in real life.
Speaking of interesting images:
Me and my beautiful sister.
Sup Amie!
Polaroids are fun.
Painting on FALLING STARS NEED PARACHUTES continues...
Will be out of town from Australia Day - heading to Lakes Entrance for some camping, then up to the Gold Coast for some Sun and then down through Sydney for my ritual feed and greet. Back to work 5th Feb.
***
Oh - and thanks to all who have contributed comments in the last month - we've never had the boards this animated before, and there have been some insightful discussions!
Cool. :)
Speaking of interesting images:
Me and my beautiful sister.
Sup Amie!
Polaroids are fun.Painting on FALLING STARS NEED PARACHUTES continues...
Will be out of town from Australia Day - heading to Lakes Entrance for some camping, then up to the Gold Coast for some Sun and then down through Sydney for my ritual feed and greet. Back to work 5th Feb.
***
Oh - and thanks to all who have contributed comments in the last month - we've never had the boards this animated before, and there have been some insightful discussions!
Cool. :)
Saturday, January 20, 2007
"So...basically you just trace?"
I don't know what you guys think, but I think the technical pen isn't horrible. (compare to previous post)
Anyone want to play "spot the paraphrased Kevin Smith quote in the post's title?"
now in colour
Here's another test page from FALLING STARS NEED PARACHUTES, before I ruin it by seeing if black technical pen will mesh well with the watercolours. I'm still having trouble with the idea of more than two tones of colour.
My brain seems to work best in monochrome.
(Image has been slightly darkened and contrast increased)
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
David Mack I hate you
Still mucking around in the kiddie sandpen of watercolour artists. Have a look - you can tell I'm painting like my brain thinks I've got oils. Not happy with the colours. The yellow star creates such a clash - figuring out how to do him will be a neat puzzle.
Dug out Jared's copy of Kabuki: Dreams for some inspiration. David Mack, the artist, is God. I sit there boggled at his technique.
David Mack, I hate you.
Diving in
Bought some watercolours for the picture book today. I've never used the medium before. Hello Learning Curve ;) Did this today while experimenting with brushes and colour. I dedicate it to Kugs. It's titled Hair. Alternately it might be Spoon. He knows what I'm talking about. Hot diggity.
Monday, January 15, 2007
The Smackdown: Round 3
Some admin issues:
Buddha: (whoever you are, I haven't figured it out yet): I can assure you I did not delete your comment. Whenever/wherever/whatever it was. As far as I know, only the author of the comment and the administrator of the blog (i.e. me) can delete comments. So if I didn't do it, and you didn't, then I can only assume it's been lost to the ether. So please feel free to re-post.
Blogger has been upgrading recently and I think there are still a few bugs in it. Some of the old comments now come up as "anonymous", so it wouldn't surprise me if some comments went astray.
My apologies.
Buddha: (whoever you are, I haven't figured it out yet): I can assure you I did not delete your comment. Whenever/wherever/whatever it was. As far as I know, only the author of the comment and the administrator of the blog (i.e. me) can delete comments. So if I didn't do it, and you didn't, then I can only assume it's been lost to the ether. So please feel free to re-post.
Blogger has been upgrading recently and I think there are still a few bugs in it. Some of the old comments now come up as "anonymous", so it wouldn't surprise me if some comments went astray.
My apologies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)