Filed under: generic text, i feel like bitching, image conscious, nerd... | Tags: nerd..., terrorist, watch
Christ, I just wanted it ‘cos it was geeky and black and stuff. The world’s sort of crazy, huh.
Filed under: generic text, i feel like bitching, muse o muse, political musings | Tags: ANZAC, day, M.I.A., war
I tried all day on friday to write a blog. I tried all day to do study. I tried all day to do something fulfilling or somehow useful. And I believe I managed to fail quite miserably. The one thing I managed was a catchy title (see above), but since the poignant moment of listening to M.I.A.’s Kala on ANZAC day has passed, that is also irrelevant. Therefore, the day seems entirely pointless, if rated by the usual ’substance of product completed’, ”concrete evidence of… something evident’ and ‘personal satisfaction with day’. You could almost say it was an empty day.
And, frankly, I would agree with you if you said that. I was about to attempt to iterate some statement of how I did things, how the day was truly fulfilling through that lack of ‘achievement’, etc, but frankly it was quite an average day. The highlight of the day was probably the point in time, just prior to 12.21am, when I and a friend jumped the fences from another friends’ house to mine (two fences in total). This was quite satisfying.
However, the amount of satisfaction that I gained from ‘jumping the fences back home’ was, to be blunt, fuck all, when I compare it to the amount of satisfaction that I feel when, in years past, I have stood on the side of the road, watched the old diggers drive past and honoured their contributions to this country. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am far from being a patriot… anyone who knows me at all, and possibly even anyone who has read this blog would know that. I disagree with war and violence in all its contexts. I quite blatantly disagree with the concept of the armed forces, although I acknowledge the need for their existence. Etc. Etc.
You see, I could keep bitching about the things I dislike about this country for hours and hours, just as I did back in high school, and in the last paragraph. However. The importance of acknowledging the service and sacrifice of the men and women who have died for the country that I am (often unwillingly) part of is something that, for me, far surpasses any of these notions. I don’t exactly know why. But I don’t care. For once, I don’t actually care why I feel the need to remember these people. I just think it matters.
So, next year, on ANZAC day, I’ll try to get to the parade. Instead of waking up with a hangover, wasting a day and then wasting the next one, I’m going to pay my respects. Not to war, not to violence, and not to the patriarchal society that I am a part of, but to the old buggers who we’re slowly forgetting about.
Filed under: generic text, i feel like bitching, playwright or wrong? | Tags: bad play, prisoner, prisoner of second avenue, QTC, sexist
Disgusted is a mild form of the putrid revulsion that I feel towards the play that I was unlucky enough to witness last night, QTC’s production of “The Prisoner of Second Avenue”.The times have changed, dear friends, and an attempted social commentary of 1976 is no longer the social commentary of 2008. The production was immensely flawed, from the overtly sexist tones and the intolerable plasticity of the characters, to the repetitive script, compiled from what seemed to be 2 hours of filler jokes. In fact, the only point of relevance (and therefore justification) that a struggling QTC spokesman could find for the production of this play was the freshly announced US recession and its entirely coincidental similarity to the ’stunningly brilliant’ plot.
Nice one.
From the opening seconds of “The Prisoner of Second Avenue” the production was textbook, freshly retrieved from the hugely popular ‘profit-guaranteed-script-recycling-bin’. At best, it was an empty performance, full of stereotypes and offence. Husband dominant, wife subservient. Husband unreachable and distant, wife intuitive and communicative. This would be excusable if it was an obvious play on the roles, a caricature of what society had/has become. Instead, the characters themselves became purely caricatures, capable only of transmitting the overtly invariable image of a ‘classic’ sitcom couple.
My, what an insight into reality. My two cents? Do not see this play.
Filed under: generic text, i feel like bitching, poetic blah, snobby shit | Tags: annoyed, cold, poetry, weather
I apologise for my bluntness, but there was nothing more annoying, more blatantly chilling nor more disturbingly potent in the early hours of this morning and, in truth throughout the entirety of today, than that purest of evils, the weather. Poetry, on the hand, is always good for the soul, if you believe in that sort of thing. Anyway, my weather-specific opinion stems from a number of reasons, which I have decided to outline below in a semi-concise list.
1. The decisively negative effects of a rapid, unexpected drop in temperature upon ones ability to escape from bed. This is a particular favourite of mine, as it has had a time-tested and most certainly undeniable impact upon my life. My earliest memories involve hours – or possibly nagging-extended minutes, it’s hard to tell which – spent huddled under covers as Mother and/or Father made repeated trips to my bed in an attempt to extract me from the silky warmth of thick winter sheets. What I could never understand was the importance that they seemed to place in something called ’skewl’, and how I had to attend. I still haven’t managed to grasp the importance of this bizarre ritual.
2. The potential of said weather to change between the hours of ‘home exit point’, ‘lunch point’ and ‘home entry point’.
Another of my favourites. Would you believe that I came into contact with this loathe-some thing today? 6:25am – very, very cold. 12pm – OMFG, I do believe my skin is burning. 12:15pm – Bought cheap t-shirt to replace the jumper which had seemed so essential at 6am.
3. ‘Instant-Runny-Nose’ Phenomenon.
I believe this is something we must all be very, very aware of, as it can be extremely hazardous to health. I personally am often stricken by this terrible ailment, and verily I pity any poor bugger who sits next to me, in front of me or frankly within the general vicinity of my nostrils on any form of public transport.
I think that’s enough for now. About 4.9 minutes ago I was forced to remove myself from my chair to journey to my room to search for a pair of woolly feet-socks and a jumper, because I was cold. I blame this and my ineffable cynicism for this tortuous and long-winded post.
