Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Deciding to move

Today, I decided that the world should just fuck off.

I've been woken up the last three mornings before the alarm by a spate of thunderstorm activity - as if I'm getting enough sleep anyway! Nature is not cooperating here.

The rogue flatmate is pissing me off more rather than less, causing me to believe that there is a divide in the household that I do not want to bother stitching up, and that it will not heal by itself.

The bosses pulled out thier usual you're a little late this morning so we're not going to actually say anything about it directly, but we'll give you all the shit jobs today stunt.

I'm tired, unhealthy and a little heartsick.

And that's where I got to thinking.
Fuck you, world.
More than that, though.
Fuck you world, I don't care any more. I can move and move on and be better for it.
I can leave town!

I took my lunch break to look online for flats in another town and went back to work thinking just try it fuckwits, I'll walk if you piss me off.

I think something clicked with that. I must have relaxed for the first time in ages with the knowledge that I could just walk out and not care. And what did that achieve? I had the best afternoon. I hung shit on the bosses as much as I wanted, and they just played along. It was great.

So maybe I should tell the world to fuck off more often. I seem to have a good day when I do.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Meet the family: Joey

”Here is where you start: Play one note on one string and pour in every ounce of your heart and soul. Then repeat.”

Meet Joey (and of course the gorgeous woman pictured with Joey is Kate). Joey is the classical guitar I came across in a pawnbroker shop in Tamworth – a town known for being the Country Music Capital. For this reason I picked my Joey up as a complete bargain. It seems to be hard to appreciate a classical guitar in a town that is centred around the world’s longest line dancing record attempt every year. The woman in the shop was hell bent on telling me that the little blue steel string piece of mass-produced crap sitting next to this one was much better.

Joey is a dynamo for me. It has a gorgeous comfortable neck that just makes me want to play. I can feel the back purr against my chest as I strike the deeper notes. It is easily the guitar in my collection that I have most identified with, and been immediately comfortable with. It’s brought out a deeper emotional connection in my classical playing.

I came across the above quote in a book I’ve been dipping into lately - Zen Guitar. I’m not a fan of the way it’s been written, which causes me to keep putting it down, but some of the thinking is great. It strikes me that the body of this quote is a major reason that Joey and I have clicked so well. I named this guitar to somebody that I am not afraid to pour my soul into, and it reflects in the instrument and my attitude toward playing it. Through this, my playing has more of an emotional focus than a technical one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a control obsessive who would rather do two hours of technique practise than actually learn a new piece, but now I’m listening more to how I express myself musically, and giving my soul that form of expression.

A nonmusician is thrilled to be doing music and is quite happy to sit there and plunk one note all day. And is very alert to the effect of that. Nonmusicians really listen sometimes, because that’s the only thing they have available to them.
- Brian Eno

I took Joey with me to meet Kate this weekend. It was an amazing experience. I spend most of my days introducing students to guitar with the expectation that they learn something straight away. That’s what I’m paid to do – give you a guitar, sit you down, help you play. Have you come out of a half hour lesson with material that keeps you interested and has built your knowledge. And that expectation is reflected by the students as well. They want to play, they want to be a musician now. With Kate, there was no expectation. I let her experience the Joey in her own way and I was fascinated. She listened, she experienced the sounds that she produced in a totally different manner to anybody I’d ever watched before. She related to it by listening to the sounds and making an emotional connection with them.

The shame is that I cannot teach this way – there needs to be a little more forward motion. However the experience has made me revisit the wonder of striking just one note and hearing it for the first time. The Hey! I made that sound happen! feeling of accomplishment these kids I teach must have. I can appreciate it more, and allow them the time to appreciate their achievement too.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Quote of the Day


Yes. That's me.

My crime? I believe it had something to do with the orgasm I brought her to on Sunday...

The Monday Melee

So my week was suck a prick that I stopped blogging in favour of sleeping last week.
And then I had a fantastic weekend away where I stopped blogging in favour of shagging.
Go figure.

So today I'll try to get back on top of it all with the Monday Melee.

1. The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate.
Being threatened to be evicted from my current home, which doubles as my teaching studio because there were complaints about rowdy occupant behaviour the weekend just gone. The pisser? I was not even here.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Energy drinks. I ingested five of the little suckers over a four-hour drive - after having three cups of coffee before leaving on the trip. Admittedly I arrived home at 5am this morning, but I still landed flat on my face in bed for an hour's deep sleep before work. I should have been bouncing off the walls all day with that much under my belt.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
There are two girls appearing to be playing Stud Wars within the lesbian acquaintances I have. It's fucking (literally) ridiculous. The only thing that is proved in that behaviour is the total lack of manners and regard for the feelings of others.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit and name it if you can.
Tuesday student Bassdude, for reducing me to a laughing, teary mess with his
Okay, I'll get it right this time... Hmmm. Gonna be a man. Suck it up.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
I have painted toenails. For the first time. And I haven't removed the nail polish yet.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
A felafel kebab with hommous and tabouleh, and all the extras.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Monday, October 22, 2007

The Monday Melee

I almost forgot to do the Monday Melee today.

1. The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate.
Imported vegetables. If it's not in season, don't eat it. It won't be much good after being flown halfway around the world, plus you're not supporting local produce.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Shred-head guitarists. Need I say more?

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
Holding a PMS party for one just isn't satisfying. I need to share my cheeses with a sympathetic audience.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit and name it if you can.
Zomb, the drunk guy I met at the Saturday gig. This guy came up to me and asked me to clarfiy something, because he'd made a bet. He bet that I was a bloke. Cool. Sorry, dude. You lost, but you made my night.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
I've been practising a classical piece about confronting demons lately and it's coming together musically. It's finally taken on a personal aspect for me and that reflects in it's performance.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
A town with more people, more opportunities musically, and no ex-girlfriends from hell to taint it.

Finding Mary

It's becoming a trend. Last weekend I went drinking with Jesus.
This weekend...

Weekend housemate Icepick and I were driving along after the downright annoying affair of the Saturday gig, getting ready to hit the town when we almost drove into the Virgin Mary. There she was, standing serenely in the middle of the road, watching over the double lines. We stopped and went over to her.

Icepick tried to move her, unsuccessfully at first. He tried picking her up: Holy shit, Vic. She's so heavy!!

With a glimmer of madness in my eyes I looked at him. I want her.

So he lifted her and dumped her in the boot of my car.

A horn beeped at us. Headlights came on. Somebody was guarding Mary. So we floored it out of there with this car chasing us. All over our section of town. We wove through the streets at speed, getting glimpses of the headlights at every corner. Finally we cruised into our driveway, headlights off, and watched as our pursuers flew past.

I wanted her for a garden feature. But we're in a block of flats - there might be a little trouble. So we decided to play dressups with her inside, in the meantime...

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Bass Diva

I did a fill-in gig last night, where I was a replacement bass player for a band that plays heavy, original music. This genre seems to attract egotistical, self-centred musicians (using that term extremely loosely). Why did I do the gig? I only know of two gigging bass players in town who use five-string basses, and I'm one of them. The other is the regular player for this band, who couldn't make the gig. The singer is a friend of mine, so she asked me to help and I said yes. It's certainly not my genre of choice, but I can appreciate the music and have no problem with being able to play it.

Egotism in musicians is one thing I cannot stand. Arrogance about your chosen genre and your playing just cut you off from the rest of the musical world. That's why these guys form such a clique - they've got nobody else left who wants to talk to them.

I got the CD on Monday night. I asked for charts - why should I go about working something out from a recording when these guys know it already? They wrote it. Okay. So Thursday night is when I get handed a few pages of tablature of the riffs. No rhythms, no form, just a bunch of numbers. To me a chart is a sketch of the chord structure and a form showing the order of sections of the song. So basically the tablatures were handy for what the riffs actually were, but I was still at square one with everything else.

There was a full rehearsal with the band set for Saturday afternoon, with the gig Saturday night. In true last minute form I worked out the songs Saturday morning. I turn up to the rehearsal completely prepared.

I sit there and watch them fart-ass about setting up. [Tick, tick, tick.]

Both guitarists make eye contact with each other, but the only band member to look at me is the singer. Cues, anybody? I asked for them at the start, with specifics of where I'd need them. But no. [Tick, tick.]

The singer stops the band: "Is Vic playing the right bit in this verse?"
The guitarist: "Nuh"
Thanks for letting the singer point that out, asshole. You should have communicated with me there. [and the Bass Diva time bomb is set to explode]

"Oh yeah we do another song. It's really simple. Just follow along."
..."Oh yeah there's a bass solo in it."
So, Bass Diva is right on exploding point. What do you want the solo over? Verse or Chorus as you've got them so far?
"Whatever, man. Just make it up."

I left my explosion until after the rehearsal and the singer copped the full brunt of it. I'll keep it simple here - "arrogant fuckwits" "guitarheads" and "better things to do with my time even though they might not" was the guts of the explosion.

So I did the gig. Did my job, played well. Had fair few comments about how good it was from people in the audience. And did not recieve one thankyou from the band. Not one member. I don't think they even said goodbye when they left.

Was it worth it? I earned a total of fourty fucking dollars for all of the shit. But I know one thing now:

There is no place for arrogant cunts in my life.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

and she pisses me off

I've got lots of favourite photographs that I've taken. I tend to take a lot of nature shots, but there's only so many interesting trees you can look at in one sitting. I'm starting to value shots of people more and more.

Anyway, I have one shot that I'm particularly proud of. It was taken on a morning walking along the Thames at Twickenham. It was misty, and wondereous. Also icy as all hell. That didn't detract from the beauty of the day, though. It seemed to add it.

The problem is that there is a person in that shot. One day it will be a memory that I can cope with. But now... I want to rip her head off most days. Let's call this character Ms. Catalyst. I still love the photo, but it makes me angry all over again. I don't look at it often. I don't display it. I still recognise it as my own favourite photograph.

So I was surfing Facebook. Checking out to see if there was anybody I should be catching up with on there, and I come across Ms. Catalyst in somebody's list of friends. Catlike, curious, I checked out the profile. And then the photo album. And there is my photo. Actually there's a couple. But she's uploaded a photograph that I took?

So who's property is it? Mine because I took the photo? Or hers because she's in it?

Friday, October 19, 2007

How do you percieve me?

"I'm an All-Purpose Groover. A laid-back guitarist, bassist and teacher. A percussionist. A fruit and vege worker. I'm an ecletic mix of interests that occasionally combine into a coherent thought process. Unless I have a hangover."

I'm not happy with my profile. How the hell do I describe myself? To me I'm just Vic. Finding words for that seems a little too hard. But it gets me thinking... How do other people percieve me?

The challenge, for those who may be interested - write a profile for me. You most likely haven't met me - hell, you might even be here for the first time. But I'm interested to know the impression I make.

Drop me an email, or leave it in the comments.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Homing socks

I wear white socks. Most of the time. White school socks. A major reason for this is that if you buy a heap at once you don't have to fold them after washing. I just shove them all in a drawer and when it comes to wearing them (which I refuse to do on weekends except when absolutely necessary) I pluck out two of hopefully the same vintage and elasticity. Even that is not of much importance if the colour matches. That's easy with white.

Periodically I go through them and evict the worst cases of wear and tear. The ones where your big toe has patiently tunneled it's way free - only to come up against the confines of the shoe. The ones where the heel is non-existent and the sock can quite happily exist in two states by half turning itself inside out through that hole. I buy new socks. I go through the old ones. And I throw them out. The thing is... they keep coming back. Like homing pigeons I seem to regather these remains of former socks. They even seem to force out the existing fully qualified socks from the safety of the drawer and take their place instead.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Quote of the Day

Gayman, telling us a story of a night out on the town:
"Some bitch wanted my tiara and I told her to fuck off or I'll slap her."

Monday, October 15, 2007

Yep. Another music meme

I found this meme at Views From the Back Row, home of Osbasso, the godfather of Half-Nekkid Thursday. I was sold as soon as I read the first question with the groove reference. No need to tag anybody - I know that Dive will do it as will anybody else whose fancy is taken by it.

What music are you currently grooving to?
Groove is the word. Currently I'm giving a lot of time to some of the funkier Medeski, Martin and wood pieces. My head seems to not require actual lyrics at this point in mental evolution, just good melodies and a groove.

What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favorite album?
Damn. What a question. It depends entirely what mood I am in. I think listening to music is similar to eating. It's an essential part of me and I tend to feel undernourished if I don't ingest enough. But it's a matter of what you feel like, and that depends on a lot of factors. For example, I love a good ceasar salad, but it isn't the top of my list on a cold wintery day. Probably my favourite album would be Pearl Jam's Ten. I don't listen to it often at all, but I have it when I feel like it, and it's extremely satisfying.

What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?
Oh tragedy. From these, the only way is up. They were both bought in my local shopping centre, on the weekly Saturday morning shopping expeditions.

My first cassette: Jason Donovan - Ten Good Reasons

My first CD: Roxette - Joyride

Which musician have you ever wanted to be?
Myself, first and foremost - however I'd love to be a session muso. I'm far too eclectic (diverse, if I'm being nice to myself or unfocused if I'm being a realist) to specialise in one particular genre.

What do you sing in the shower?
My own melodies, generally based over some internal groove that I have at the time.

What is your favorite Saturday night record?
Jamiroquai, followed closely by anything funky of a similar groove. I use this music to pump up, get happy, to get in a positive mood.

And your Sunday morning record?
Now that the warmer weather is about, I'm enjoying The Cat Empire's new alnum So Many Nights. It's bright, brassy and latin influenced, and perfect to lay about in the sun to.

The Monday Melee

A while back, Dive from Small Glass Planet set the challenge of doing a single-artist lyrical version of the Monday Melee. I took the challenge and clean forgot about it for a while. So here we are, finally... A single-artist, single-album melee. The album of choice is Snow Patrol's Eyes Open, which I loved to bits, got over and then revisited this weekend. Thankfully, I still love it to bits.

1. The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate.
Lash out first
At all the things we don't like
Or understand

- It's Beggining To Get To Me

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Get up, get out, get away from these liars
Cos they don't get your soul or your fire

- Open Your Eyes

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right

- Make This Go On Forever

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit and name it if you can.
I find the map and draw a straight line
Over rivers, farms, and state lines
The distance from A to where you'd B
It's only finger-lengths that I see

I touch the place where I'd find your face
My finger in creases of distant dark places

- Set The Fire To The Third Bar

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
For once I want to be the car crash
Not always just the traffic jam

- Headlights on Dark Roads

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
I wanna hear you laugh like you really mean it
Collapse into me, tired with joy

- Hands Open

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Finding Jesus

In an effort to snap out of my bleak mood last night I hit the town. I dressed up, making an attempt to feel good about myself, to feel that I looked good. So I pulled out the nice jeans. I pulled on my best (newest, therefore most elastic) boobsmasher chest flattening crop top and then the white shirt. Not tucked in, unbuttoned at the top and with a tie. I haven't worn a tie in so long - I found that I'd missed the process of it so much. And top it off with a pinstripe jacket.

So I walk to town, prepared for a night out on my own. Prepared to meet new people and talk to them. Prepared to listen to live music because for once there actually is something happening in town.

I walked into the muso's club and there he was.


Jesus, sitting across a crowded room.

Jesus held out his arms to me, and I went to him. His beard was soft, and his embrace warm.

Jesus and I talked. And we drank. We decided to move to another bar and that's when it happened. Jesus fell. He will not be walking on water for some time. He will perhaps be hopping across it on crutches, but definately not walking.

Maybe I just should not drink.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

What is my space?

I have a bedroom that technically nobody is allowed to enter without invitation.

My bedside tables are these two huge speakers that I scored at a garage sale for ten dollars years ago. I've dragged them from house to house where they've been used as shelves, plant stands and only once before now as their actual intent. I've hooked them up and finally they serve as speakers as well as bedside tables - they're such a me thing. And loud! Hell yes. I can shut myself in there and the entire room becomes my theatre.

The bed is covered in a sheet set that I am still coming to grips with the girliness of. It's pretty, but... I just want suave. Dark sheets to set off the wood grain in the bedhead. However the pretty silken set is a light blue with cool copper and silver embroidery which I kind of like on some level. They're just not suave. I want to wrap myself in dark sheets and pillows rather than these ones that I blend with and pale between.

I have candles lining the top of the bedhead and bedside tables. Actually not the entire way across the bedhead - because I like to light them and sit there and read by the candlelight. It's not a particularly good idea to have your head near a flame when you're trying to relax, so I don't have them on my side.

I tried to set this room up to be a den of sensuality. An extension of myself where I felt comfortable, sexy and confident. And the fact is, I'm beginning to hate this space. It represents a failure to the intent. I bought a new bed to fit it. Since that purchase I have not had sex in my room at all. In fact I can count on one hand the number of times I've had sex in this house and still have fingers left over.

No, sex is not everything. But my bedroom feels like a complete and utter failure. It isn't a space I enjoy. In fact I'm hating my entire house. I can't keep on top of the cleaning. The kitchen is a bitch and the bathroom is not a place I want to spend any time. My studio is a box that barely fits me and my instruments let alone the flow of students that occupy it part time.

I need my own space. My own confident space. An entire house of it.
A room with a view of the city.
My guitars in my loungeroom with no worry of a drunken thoughtless idiot destroying them.
Leftovers for days on end, because I always cook too much.
Walking around with no top on, because I love to.
My art on the walls.
Music to wake up to in the morning.
Practising one bar for hours on end without guilt.
A place where I could spend time with someone I want to and not have the rest of the world talking about it, or wanting to be part of it.
My space.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Moths and light

Sydney has been apparently hit pretty hard by the bogong moth migration this year. Not that I could care about Sydney - even though I've just recently been there it's not in my backyard. It's more than six hours drive, placing it well outside of my care zone. Just lately though, it seems there's a hell of a lot more moths everywhere. My cat has been having a ball. You hear a thunk! and it's her head smacked up against the kitchen window with a freshly caught moth in it. Or you see a leaping form as she catches one mid-air.

I was chatting on MSN last night and in dire want of a cigarette, so I just up and took the laptop outside with me. Under the outside light. It was a less than brilliant move that led me to be buzzed far too many times and gather a nice group of them on my screen. They do not seem to be deterred by smoke.

So it brings up that eternal question - why? Why are these little tykes attracted to the light anyway?

In a quest to find out a little more I discover the concept of phototaxis. This occurs when a whole organism moves in response to light. So the moth is an organism that is positively phototactic. It moves toward the light source. On a nice day, I also become positively phototactic. With a hangover, however, I become negatively phototactic and attempt to remove myself from the source of light.

Some theories say that the moth uses the moon as it's navigational source during migration. So when they encounter a much closer light source it results in confusion. I can just imagine it - Holy shit guys it's the moon!!!! I made it!!!...
... now what do I do?

Or maybe it's just one big disco party for them all.

Another idea is that moths, being night-flying creatures, go into sleep mode as they encounter a source of light. It's an artificial daytime for them, therefore time to sleep. Kind of like the egg-producer's practice of keeping the lights on so the chickens still think it's day, therefore time to lay.

But there's another, alternative theory. This one I like the best especially because of the research behind it. Henry Hsiao showed that moths can be drawn toward a light source from up to 200 feet away, but when they get close, they circle it. This is because the bright point of light affects the eye of the moth in such a way that it causes them to perceive a very dark band around the light source, a Mach band. In fact, all seeing creatures have this. The moth tries to fly into the dark spot to avoid the light. Eventually momentum carries it away. So maybe the moths that end up sitting on my laptop screen are just buggered from this circling idea and need a rest.

The best thing about that theory is the research. This guy is like one of those kids in primary school who pulls the wings off flies to see if they can go in circles (actually... I was one of those, too). Except this guy Hsiao gets paid for it. It's now research. He tethered moths to little styrofoam boats in a tiny artificial pond and tracked their flight as they headed toward a light source. I can just imagine it - a moth with a pin in it's arse tied to a bit of string, dragging a styrofoam boat across a pond. Ten points for ingenuity.

I want to give it a go myself.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

A Crocodile Ate My Baby

On another local art road trip and we came across this:

A crocodile, yes.

But when you get close, there is some seriously sinister stuff going on.

Monday, October 8, 2007

Quote of the Day

... Goes to a nine year old girl I was looking after whilst driving in Newcastle (aka Planet Newy) on Friday.


The Monday Melee

It's time for a Monday Melee already?
I want the weekend back!

1. The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate.
Budgie Smugglers. Aka Shitcatchers. Speedos. Those awful little swimmers that seem only to be worn by men who are really scrawny, or old fat bastards. Either way, if you wear them it’s a crime against aesthetics and you should be shot for it.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Phony is my appearance of good health. My ears are blocked and if mucus was a valuable commodity I would have the market cornered as a major producer. I feel as good as a freshly discarded tissue.

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
Only being able to squeeze a weekend or only a day in with the people I truly want to be around. It takes me that long to become comfortable and then I have to go again. I think I’ll just have to move closer to them in order to solve that problem.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit and name it if you can.
James Blunt for the new album All the Lost Souls. I’m captivated well and truly, even though I still think he’s a bit of a whinger. I just can’t not fall in love with a lyric that says
Valium said to me
“I’ll take you seriously,
and we’ll come back as someone else
who’s better than yourself”

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
I do not own anything that has floral print.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
Two weeks in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. With one other person. And possibly an internet connection.

Friday, October 5, 2007

Yes, I do get angry

I spout that I'm a laid back muso. That I'm too apathetic to get worked up, to get pissed off at anything. That I'm reasonable.

All that turns to bullshit, absolute and utter bullshit! when I get a phone call like the one I had this morning.

Indian Call Centre Fuckwit: Hello, I like to speak to ahhh.. Mrs. Ning?
Vic: [Thinking here we go, this is the fiftieth fucking time. ie The time bomb is already ticking for this person] Look. Mrs. Ning owns this place, but we rent. Through an agent. How come the name keeps on popping up on your call list?
ICCF: Oh is the owner there, please?
Vic: [Tick, tick, tick...] No, you don't get it, we've never met the owner. And this phone number is in my name. MY name. How come you lot seem to think that this number belongs to Mrs. Ning?
ICCF: Oh it must be the name at the address.

SNAP. I've done this before. If I wasn't so fucking livid it would be a great sport. But the trap has shut on this guy. It's on.

Vic: No way buddy. This is MY number. MINE. I brought it with me from the last address. How the hell can you tell me my number is in somebody else's name? Where the hell do you lot get your lists from because this is the fiftieth fucking time this has happened.
ICCF: Since the phone is in your name, what I am calling today is about -

Persistent PRICK.

Vic: No way buddy. I don't want whatever it is. I want to know where you get your numbers from?
ICCF: They are from our research department. Your number has been selected randomly -

Now I'm doing laps of the loungeroom, in long strides with the phone attatched to my ear. Voice raised, waves of that particular just fuck right off vibe that I produce emanating from me.

Vic: Look, I don't want to buy your product. Just leave me alone. Don't ever call again and tell your FUCKING RESEARCH DEPARTMENT that this is MY FUCKING NUMBER and that I DON'T WANT YOUR SHIT.


So now I'm pissed off. Stuff this guy. I own this number. I've had it since I first got a phone in my name. How the fuck can they get someone else's name in that. Piss off. Don't give my number away. I don't own the house but I own the number. Owned it before I even laid eyes on the house.

I'm alone in my house at the moment. So I've got the phone book out and I'm looking for numbers to call to figure out how the owner of the house I rent has been granted honorary ownership of my phone number - and I'm yelling at nobody. Just to yell. I'm absolutely livid.

There is a fucking "Australian Breastfeeding Association"?

Where is the fucking number for "Some Cunt Has Taken My Phone Number?" There should be a fucking help line for this!

And how the fuck can you justify taking a whole fucking page to say all your complaints numbers are exactly the fucking same???

I want old mate ICCF to ring back so I can have another go, I'm so worked up.

Thursday, October 4, 2007

Half Nekkid Thursday: Beer edition

It's my birthday on Saturday. I've been pre-celebrating all week with a different boutique beer every night. Tonight: Amstel, my favourite of all time.

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Local Road Trippin': The Pine Forest

This place, the pine forset near my town has seen quite a few battles - staged ones. There's a massive medieval gathering out here once every two years and the local club is pretty active out here all the time. So there's structures dotted all the way through the forest. Camps, fortifications, and when the whole deal is happening there's a longhouse with a bar serving mead. I've been known to sneak in, dressed as a monk, while the festivities are going on.

When medieval activities are not happening the forest becomes a place of exploration, of solitude, of contemplation. A place filled with the cycles of life.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Guess who?

More of the Meme Backlog

Hi, my name is Vic.

But you can call me VB, Groover or whatever takes your fancy, really.

Never in my life have I taken hard drugs.

When I am nervous I have shaking hands. It's great for a natural vibrato if you're playing guitar.

The last song I listened to was ... I'm currently listening Rodrigo y Gabriela currently, and I have two of their albums in iTunes. So one of those pieces will be the last piece I listened to by the time I post this.

If I were to get married right now, it would be to ... I'm not. I would rather die than get put into that.

My hair is gathering it's ranks into a Raghead Rebellion. It will march its way toward the hairdresser's to get cut down in its masses this week.

When I was four, I climbed onto a table. Which led to a garden shed roof. Which led to the garage. Which led to the top of the rather high kitchen roof. I had a stick in my hand. It was my climbing stick. I waved to my father. He shat himself. He made me drop the stick. I missed the stick. Years later I climbed the roof to find the stick and it was no longer there. I still mourn my climbing stick.

Last Christmas I spent without family for the first time. It was brilliant.

I should be in the sun, soaking up the spring loveliness.

When I look down I see Funkee Monkee pyjama pants on my barely awake body.

The happiest recent event was winning four games of pool in a row, holding the table. Normally I enjoy the game but I'm not that good.

If I were a character in Friends I would be one of those people who comes into the cafe to drink coffee as an extra, and then leaves again. Someone that doesn't participate in the bullshit.

By this time, next year, I will be looking forward to my birthday again.

My current distress is being in financial dire straits. Having bucketloads of cash is not at all important to me. But keeping my head above water when it comes to bills is a priority.

I have a hard time understanding my own thought processes.

There's these girls who I can't help but stare at their boobs. In my defense, it's a height thing. They're right at my eye level.

If I won an award, the first person I would tell is probably Blogville, if anyone. I don't like limelight in that way.

I want to buy a ticket to somewhere other than here.

I plan on visiting somewhere other than here.

If I could spend the night at any house, it would be anywhere that I feel comfortable and accepted, happy.

The world could do without MIDI on-hold music. Half an hour of the same tune being dinged out with no expression in it at all and they wonder why you have the shits when someone finally answers.

The most recent thing I bought myself is (not counting food) new sheets.

The most recent thing that someone else bought for me was the coolest pair of thigh high socks I've ever seen.

My middle name is so unliked by me that I changed it to an initial when I declared for a tax file number at fifteen. But hey, this is my blog - the place where I put all that crap... Here goes... Alice.

In the morning I can't function without caffeine.

Last night I was cursing my inability to find the remote control for the stereo.

There is this guy I know who taught me everything I know about nail care.

If I was an animal, I would be a mosquito. Just so that I could find out whether Aeroguard really does make people invisible to mosquitoes.

A better name for me would be Groover.

Tomorrow, I am having an easy day.

Tonight, I am drinking a boutique beer for Viktoberfest and trying to edit a video clip.

Monday, October 1, 2007

The Seven Deadly Sins Meme

Whom did you last get angry with? The driver of the car in front of me who decided that the roundabout had to entirely free of cars and approaching cars, and cars that might possibly come in that direction in the next few minutes, before deciding it was safe to enter the roundabout for himself.

What is your weapon of choice? A quick tongue.

Would you hit a member of the opposite sex? Yes, and I have. I have the worst fiery temper loss when I am picked on for no reason and pushed in an unreasonable manner. It takes a lot, but when I lose control I can hurt. I might write about that incident one day. Also, when it comes to self-defence I certainly would hit back.

How about the same sex? If it was for self-defence, yes.

Who was the last person who got really angry at you? I try not to piss people off. Truly.

What is your pet peeve? Idiots who can't tell when I don't like them.

Do you keep grudges, or can you let them go easily? I guess I do hold grudges. There are certain people that I avoid associating with because of things they have done to me. That's me holding a grudge and acting on it.

What is one thing you're supposed to do daily that you haven't? Exercise. In order to have more energy, I should exercise. But usually I'm tired and I don't have the time or energy. Catch 22.

What is the latest you've ever woken up? Definately after noon. But then I go back for more.

Name a person you've been meaning to contact, but haven't? Most of my friends from highschool.

What is the last lame excuse that you made? I was too busy ...[moulding the shape of my arse into the lounge]...

Have you ever watched an infomercial all the way through? Yes. It's sad when you have favourites.

How many times did you hit the snooze button on your alarm clock this morning? None, but my standard is six times.

What is your overpriced yuppie beverage of choice? Imported beers.

Are you a meat eater? Yes, but I'd rather not eat it full time. A couple of meals a week and the rest as vegetarian. This is my ideal, and much easier stuck to when I was living alone and not having to fit in with the meals of others.

What is the greatest amount of alcohol you've had in one sitting? Most of a carton of beer in one go.

Are you comfortable with your drinking and eating habits? I'm fine with my drinking, but I eat far too much.

Do you enjoy candy and sweets? Not often. I prefer a really good apple.

Which do you prefer: sweets, salty foods or spicy foods? Salty foods. I'm a spice weenie (I love it but hate the burning lips feeling), and I can't handle too many sweets either.

Have you ever looked at a small house pet or child and thought, "lunch"? No. I've thought "die" before. Does that count?

How many credit cards do you own? None.

If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it? Buy a home, and travel.

Would you rather be rich or famous? Rich. I can quite happily sit in the background, spending my money and not have anybody know who I am.

Would you accept a boring job if it meant that you would make megabucks? Yes, but not for a long term. I'd take the megabucks for a year or so, set myself up and then can the job.

What's one thing that you have done that you're most proud of? Hmmm. Realising that my ex is a life-sucking bitch and that I am better off cutting off all contact with her.

What's one thing you have done that your parents are most proud of? About this I have no idea. I don't know what makes them tick. At the moment I don't know why they still bother harassing me to find out what I'm up to. I'm not motivated at all by what may make them proud, anyway.

What thing would you like to accomplish late in your life? Dying gracefully.

Do you get annoyed by coming in second place? Yes.

Have you ever entered a contest of skill, knowing you were of much higher skill than all the other competitors? No.

Have you ever cheated to get a better score? I went through months of Friday night canasta games with my parents. I lost consistently and could not stand my father's gloating. So at the end of each hand I used to add a little to my score, in an attempt to hide how much I was actually getting thrashed by. It didn't work. Eventually I changed my game to a completely different style and went on an equally long winning streak. I didn't gloat.

What did you do today that you're proud of? Made it home alive.

How many people have you seen naked (not counting movies, family, strippers, locker rooms)? Honestly I don't know. I counted, ran out of fingers, had a recount and an "Oh yeah that's right - forgot about that one" moment before I gave up.

How many people have seen you naked (not counting physicians, doctors, family, locker rooms, or when you were a young child)? Hmm. Same answer.

Have you ever caught yourself staring at the chest/crotch of a person of your chosen sex during a normal conversation? Hell yes. Oops.

What is your favorite body part of a person of your gender choice? Hair. Running my fingers through her hair.

Have you ever had sexual encounters (including kissing/making out) with multiple persons? Yes. Including my first time.

Have you ever been propositioned by a prostitute? No. Until recently it was on my to-do list.

What item of your friends would you most want to have for your own? I don't like to covet the possessions of others.

Who would you want to go on "Trading Spaces" with? I'll skip this question on the basis of ignorance.

If you could be anyone who existed in the world, who would you be? Vic, she's a groover.

Have you ever been cheated on? No. Not that I know of, anyway.

Have you ever wished you had a physical feature different from your own? Of course. I have a different image of myself mentally and often catch a reflection of myself and think - "Shit. That's right. You're shorter and stockier. Damn."

What inborn trait do you see in others that you wish you had for yourself? Hmm. Another toughie. I'm just me, and I don't think I can take cues from others for that.

What deadly sin...
Do you do the most often? Regrettably, Sloth.

Do you do the least often? Envy.

Is your favorite to act on? Lust. Definately.

The Monday Melee

Today is the day for getting through the meme backlog, starting with the weekly event of the Monday Melee.

1. The Misanthropic: Name something you absolutely hate.
Not being able to play guitar through injury. It's been a week of picking up the instrument and realising that it hurts to play every time, and having to set it down again. Without realising I find one in my hands - to the point where Cruiseydyke would look at me across the loungeroom and chip me with a dude, you're doing it again.

2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus.
Centrelink, the government handout agency that does not recognise same sex relationships on a basic level. If you declare that you are living with others in the Rent Assistance, the next question is are you living with any members of the opposite sex? If you declare that you are, you get handed a form to fill out that asks if you own anything with that member of the opposite sex. You do not have to do this if you live with members of the same sex. I've actually posed the question, so what if I'm in a lesbian relationship and we own a house together? They don't care. It's not part of the guidelines. This would work in my favour if I was eligible for a benefit - my benefit would not be affected by the income of a same sex partner because that agency would not recognise her as a partner. But that blows. Why should I be any different?
Also, just because I might live with a bloke why is it automatically assumed that we own stuff together, which on a basic level means it is assumed that we are in a relationship?
How about changing it completely? To Do you live with your partner? If yes, do you own any assets together?

3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with.
Living on top of a mountain range. I'm a water child. I was on the coast today, staring at fish through beautiful clear water at a wharf and I felt whole. I could have just sat there for hours, in the sun with the sea breeze on my face. There is something about the green countryside and the proliferation of water that just allows me to relax inside.

4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit and name it if you can.
The producers of Australian Idol for providing me with utter crap television for my viewing pleasure.

5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it.
I try to be polite where possible. I knock, I ask permission. I just think it's decent.

6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for.
No drama. I hate drama. I hate getting emotional and I resolve not to. The laid-back Groover is here to stay. Rumours might fly around me, words can be said to me, bombs could be dropped in my bedroom but I am Vic, and that is all I need.