Dorrigo

I thought I'd better post a few of my photos, even though I've been really dissatisfied with my strike rate lately. Here's the best of a bad lot from a reasonably recent trip to Dorrigo.



Dorrigo is the home of a World Heritage National Park, an old train yard, a somewhat interesting hand-made motorbike called the Ned Kelly bike - more interesting because it's housed in a very terribly cafe - and really not much else. From my older days of living near that area I remember that Dorrigo red soil potatoes are apparently the best you can get. Those must all get shipped out because we didn't see a spud anywhere!



Back to the bit about the World Heritage National Park - it's part of the Central Eastern Rainforest reserves of Australia. Here's the tourist mini-guide: "Dorrigo National Park protects areas containing plant and animal communities typical of the eastern rim of the New England Tablelands. High rainfall and moist conditions nurture subtropical, warm and cool temperate rainforests. Subtropical rainforest grows in the richer soils and supports huge, buttressed yellow carabeens, black booyongs ahnd bungalow palms. Strangler figs germinate high in the canopy and vines loop from the branches. Elkhorns, staghorns, crows nest ferns, cunjevoi, ferns and mosses create a vivid green forest, splashed with deep red flowers of flame trees in early summer."

I really would love to spend days and days walking around these rainforests. The vegetation is amazing. The greens are so vivid. Theres thousands of little microworlds to learn about, explore and marvel at. And then there's fungi. Keep a firm grip on my hand... because when I stop, fascinated by something, it's easy to leave me far behind!

Sunday Smart

“I find myself moved by man in his new violent environment. I want to paint this explicitly and beautifully… only very recently have artists again started to comment on their real surroundings” - Jeffrey Smart

Things that constantly amaze me

• Rain. I know the sciencey blah behind it. But seriously, it just falls from the sky. Then it doesn't. Then it does. Then it sniffs out public holidays and stays! Brilliant!
  
• The abilty of cats to sense when you wake up and appear just in time to wind themselves in between your legs on the way to the kitchen.
  
• My continuing fascination with Matt Preston
  
• Auto Electricians. *Snip *Snip *Snip *Twist *Key-click *VROOM. There you go, done. They make a spidery mess make sense in ten secons flat.
  
• How I can use a packet mix to make muffins yet still feel like a masterchef at 6am when those little bliss bombs roll out of the oven.
  
• The addictive properties of the Zelda series of games.
  
• Tourism-driven art vendors.
  
• That practising scales to a metronome is the best form of relaxation I know.
  
• How much Jonah continues to amuse me. I just watched him bury his nose into the bristle end of an oversize paintbrush and waited for the inevitable sneeze. Cracks me up every time.
  
• Touch phones
  
• The undiminishing libido of my partner... *grin*
  

Bin for Laden

I'm feeling like an arse.

In America there's people dancing on the streets in joy that Osama bin Laden is dead, people spontaneously singing the Star Spangeld banner, shouting out USA! and waving flags. Kids who should not know hate waving signs.



Here, I sat in front of my computer and raised my eyebrows. The most I spoke was a comment to my girlfriend - Hey babe. They reckon they shot Bin Laden. Why am I feeling like an arse? I'm not excited at all. I don't think it's a milestone in any way other than to take away the known element - the focus of a name - and bring back in to play the core of terrorism: that the perpetrators are faceless. At least with a figurehead those who felt the need to hate had somewhere to point that hate. Those who felt the need to fear had someone to blame for that fear. Now what?

Just because the guy who was the face of Al Quaeda to the media is dead do we think it's over? Even if Al quaeda itself were to proclaimed eradicated it would not be over. There will always be terrorism in some form because it is a very strong capacity in humans to be terrified.

I can't get excited about it at all.

I can't even decide on which of my ideas I support the best. I'm just not passionate about it at all.

Do I go with theory one: That Obama is coming up for re-election and needs some form of victory to justify that troops are still kicking around away from home? Piss off Pakistan so it can stay in the media for a while? Get some pictures of blood stained trashed rooms together (miraculously no blood on the walls, just the floors... even though there were claims of head shots)? Get some party pictures of everybody in the situation room like they're about to watch a football game. Then dump the body over the side of a boat and say it's out of respect?

Or do I go with theory two? Al Quaeda needs a new face. Bin Laden has been at it for ten years and it's time to give the guys someone new to respect. They'll be taking over from someone who was taken out by the very people they despise - a great motivator to start something new. It'll shut the Americans up for a while, too, because they feel they've made a victory. There'll be more pressure to take the forces back home.

Or theory number three: That it wasn't Osama at all. Just a dude with a beard made to look like him and that he's planted his own death.

Too many theories. Not enough desire to believe them. So I'm settled with this for the moment:

A dude is dead. The Americans are happy because they shot him. It apparently avenges the thousands of deaths associated with the twin towers plane attacks.

Road Trip!

We're heading off to a festival this weekend.

You go, you camp out, you listen and party like you know best.



Problem is, it's been pissing down for the last few days and it's not letting up.

Diagnosis Fail

I've been using an internet stick. You know them. The ones that you punt into the USB port and supposedly magically enter the world of the internet from anywhere.

Bullshit.

Even though there seems to be three levels of network speed in the area the fucking thing disconnects. Then the program that talks to it won't fucking start. Then after several different pissed off combinations of double-clicking it still won't fucking start. Even after I bring out the old key commands – the highest sign of my annoyed state – the program still won't fucking start.

Of course, I'm writing about it because it happened just now. Happily cruising along and then



Well why the fuck not? I look at the stick poking out the side of my laptop and the answer is there. That little light that chooses whatever colour it likes to be depending on how fast it feels like going today, well, that little light has started flashing. We've dropped out. Gone AWOL. No more pointless surfing. No more pointless poking around on Facebook. No more looking at silly pictures just because you can. Because now you can't.

Then I looked at the Oracle in front of me and realised that it may have the answers. That button certainly looked like it might. Diagnose Connection Problems. Sounds important. Why not? Click.

Consult your computer manufacturer's troubleshooting information. You can also use another computer to visit online support services. Contact your computer manufacturer for additional assistance if required.

Let me paraphrase that:

Dunno. You're on your own there.

Great. My faith in Windows is as strong as ever.

Quote of the Day

All I want is a nice glass of wine.

And a cardigan.

Holy Cow

I stopped dead in my tracks to gawk at him. Holy Fucking COW was the pathetic line that escaped me.

His name is Fonzy. He is 1.885 metres tall. He is a Canadian Holstien. He is one hell of a big boy.

Bloodsuckers

Female mosquitoes drink blood. Males do not. Both can feed on nectar and sugar. Females can only produce eggs after a blood feed. Then they keep going on feeding on blood anyway for the love of it.

Males swarm at dusk.

Females join the swarm because they're guaranteed a root in there.

So many parallels to life can be drawn.

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Ouch

Oh. My. God.

Bra chafe!

It's been so hot the last couple of days. Inside a mining machine that has been running a couple of hours previously, the air is still and the heat of working components refuses to go away. In winter it's ideal. Summer... Well.

Knowing this weather is hard on everyone I jumped into one of the worst areas to give the crew I was leading a bit of a break. I hooked into digging some incredibly hard crap and gave it my all.

I have bruises in suspicious places.

I not one, not two, but threechafe lines across my chest now, and also across my back.

This shit is not comfortable. Especially when you're supposed to do it all again the next day. Top surgery seems like a far better option!

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On Meeting a Drag Queen

I played pool with him. Her. Fuck... I don't know? Also, I'm afraid to ask.

Just let it roll... I think.

He puts on his feminine moves while he plays and it brings out this... instinct in me. Even though I am seeing before me a male, somebody I would not consider attractive or a potential partner, those feminine moves appeal to something deeper in me. They draw my masculinity out. They reach into that side that says I must look after those I consider vulnerable and precious in my life. They say to me that woman is definately precious to me.

Yes, it draws out my masculinity.

A male, acting in feminine capacity, makes this biological female feel masculine.

What a world.

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Quote of the Day

Not so much a quote, but a humorous writing on a toilet roll dispenser:-

"Turban repair kit."

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YUCK! Android Phone!

Testing a suppsedly crappy blogger app. If it works, all I have to do is master typing on this crappy little touhscreen...

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Quote of the Day

Heard on a children's television show:

Just sit there and practise until your blisters harden into callouses.

Damn, I should have been using that one on my students all along.

Early Morning Wash Job

For work yesterday the Roster Gods granted me the pleasure of having to do a 4am Excavator wash. It's been ages since I've been rostered on to do one of those – I tend to get stuck elsewhere doing other things and miss out on all the fun.

And it is fun.

Alright, you get shit all over you. It's freezing at this time of year and you're pressure blasting with water – which means that you will be standing outside in a long sleeved shirt with two jackets over the top, two bright white sperm suits over that, both of their little white hoods up over your beanie adorned head and a hardhat on top. Looking like a slow moving marshmallow. And you will still be freezing. After three hours solid of pressure blasting, you will also be saturated even through all those layers.

But...

You're using a gun with 4000psi behind it. They're easy to hold when you're used to them, but there's still a kick that will send a beginner backwards. You get up there in the dark and carve away at the grease and mud covering this huge machine and work your way toward the dawn.

I had chunks of mud an inch thick and the size of a man's shoe blasting off the top of this machine in the path of my water gun. All around me there was destruction caused by me, and only me. Oh, therapy. It was brilliant. After the destruction and debris is blasted off the side and into the dark the machine emerges as clean, shiny, and - of course – overwhelmingly orange.

Somewhere near the end of all this comes the other bonus of the shift... Dawn. I love seeing the sky change shade by shade as I'm working. It comes as a surprise every time. I look up from my destructive path for a second and realise There's a tinge of blue to go with those stars now and it makes me smile. It carries with it this indescribable burst of energy and wonderment mixed together. It's exciting. It gives me this wonderful feeling of awe at the way the world works.

It also means I can see any bits I've missed before we hand the machine back to the service crew.

It's crap, it's dirty, it's freezing, and it has the remarkable property of reminding me that it's great to be alive.

Breaking Down

Seven golden rules for healthy eating habits

1. Drink plenty of water.

2. Eat more fruit and vegetables (at least two servings of fruit and five servings of vegetables every day).

3. Manage your portion sizes.

4. Eat less processed food.

5. Eat regular meals – don’t skip meals – and always eat a healthy breakfast (e.g. bowl of natural hi fibre cereal with sliced banana and low fat milk).

6. Restrict your alcohol intake.

7. Limit your intake of “extra” food. These foods are not essential to provide the nutrients the body needs and some contain too much added fat, sugar and salt. Examples include lollies, chocolate, biscuits, cakes, pastries, soft drinks, chips, pies, sausage rolls and other takeaways. Choose these foods sometimes or in small amounts.

I went to an osteopath yesterday. What a disaster. All my conceptions of my own health are out the window.

I thought I was strong. No. My back is in severe pain because my muscles have degraded so much through bad nutrition that I don't have the strength to support my own body weight. There I was thinking I had just overstepped things a little. I thought I just needed a little adjustment and I'd be okay again. Good to go. Not a chance.

The weight that I am now, which I thought was reasonbale, but still about seven kilos over where I'd like to be, is actually fourteen kilos above the upper limit of the healthy weight range for somebody of my height. Fourteen to drop before I'm even on the border of it.

The tension in my neck is ridiculous.

My muscle tone is terrible.

This has all happened through years of constant abuse, lack of nutritous eating and proper exercise and of course, the word that is spat at me as a devil by every health professional I've seen: Smoking.

My blood pressure, however, is spot on. And my pulse is good. Conclusion? My body is fucked but I have a good heart.

I'm crushed, to be honest. I really thought I wasn't that bad heathwise and now that it's all come crashing down around me I feel like curling up into a ball and crying for a while. There's a small glimmer of positivity there - this is a good wake-up call to lead a healthier, more active lifestyle. To lose more weight. To give up or cut back on the smoking. It's an uphill battle that I wanted to fight and climb through anyway. But that hill just seemed to morph from a small ascent into something size of fucking Everest. Not many people have the skills to get past base camp there! How the hell are me and my fourteen extra kilos with zero knowledge of proper healthy lifestyle going to ever be equipped to tackle this one? Will I ever reach the top and do I have the guts and abitlity to maintain my balance when I get there? Will I teeter on the top for a while before my strength runs out and I go rolling back down again?

Gender and the Bathroom

I've started wearing ties again. Oh Fuck, it's been about two years since I felt comfortable enough in one. Let's just say that the elements I surrounded myself with in the time in between were rather quick to judge and I fell for it, slowly but surely cutting out the little masculine things I enjoyed. At the time I was kidding myself that I was fitting in. Now I see it as a major setback in my personal gender explorations.

Anyways, tonight I stepped out in a dress shirt and a tie. Apart from the fact that my chest still sticks out far more than I'd like it to, I looked good. I was happy. All I needed to do was to avoid checking myself out in side profile and I'd be fine and confident in my manufactured masculinity. Happy and fine as a non-gender-specific polymorphous individual.

I'm lucky to be sharing a very supportive environment now. The people around me are not just okay with me expressing who I am, they are encouraging me to explore it more, even. It feels great to be filling out my own skin again.

The fact that there are differences between my reality and that of other people became apperent when I went to the bathroom at the club we were having dinner at just this evening. I went to the bathroom for obvious reasons, and also to tidy up my apperance. I adjusted my tie in the mirror as I was turning to leave. At the same time, a poor older lady was walking in. She looked at me and I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Panic that she'd walked into the wrong bathrooms. She walked backwards out the door and checked the sign.

Shit.

First thought: I don't want a scene here at all.

Second thought: Fuck you, lady. I wear who I am on the outside. I'm sure you piss in the same bathroom as your husband at home anyway.

Such a dilemma. I felt for her confusion, yet was angered by her narrow-mindedness.

Perhaps I just need to remind myself that other people's thoughts and reactions are their own, and not mine?

Quote of the Day

"Vic's back is like a jigsaw puzzle that doesn't fit together."

Object of Affection

I want one.



It's rare these days for me to make a decision based on pure sexiness of an item. I tend to be influenced more by functionality of an item rather than looks. A nice, sleek looking car? Why the hell would you do that? Can you fit a drum kit in the back of it? No? What the fuck would you want it for then??

But wait just one second.

I want that one.

It gave me a funny feeling in my crotch. It made my mouth open. It made my eyes glaze over. It made my heart rate quicken and I don't want to stop looking at it. I want to stroke it.

What the fuck will happen when I sit on one?