now

 

it's official. 8th October has been banned. It has been replaced by 11th November. If only starting with four people. His partner Helena, his two daughters Lauren and Adrienne and myself. On the 8th October, there is no demise, witnessed or understood, that way we all get to celebrate two birthdays. I'm sure when the phenomenon takes hold, many more will embrace this. How can they not? At this point I guess I should go into some detail.

Forget playing the guitar. He can play it like a titan, but there are so many other factors to take into consideration. I'll start with his train of thought. He embraced the writings of George Orwell. Not the obvious works, like 1984 and Animal Farm, but all the others. The novels that led up to these famous works, that contain themes and ideas in the developing Orwell's 2 "greatest hits". I would think of the craziest ideas and we will talk them through until they made sense. 

One thing I wrote was a book about scale patterns. Not only did he tell me what components to reject, but how to develop it further. He uses it to practice on his Chapman Stick.

There is an overall feeling about the way he approaches things. From teaching himself to read music; to dropping everything to focus on not just something else, but to the unknown.

The same phenomenon is more than apparent in his daughters, with an emphasis on Adrienne. Dropped whatever she was doing in her life to become a solicitor. Lauren took up the flute. When she dropped that to do whatever, he isn't happy, but took it in his stride. Maybe the most annoying fact was that she is so damn good.

The whole thing reminds me of my tabla teacher. I have never referred to her as my "former" tabla teacher. Every time I see her I learn something new. From the coincidental to the monumental. plus another thought about now. Not can, but how do I forget what she taught me? I think about it every day. Not only what she taught, but the very experience of knowing her. The very same could be said about him. Plus teaching me - she was a real ball-breaker. That I am eternally grateful for.

All I can say, in conclusion, is the overall train of thought. Whatever you are doing, anything. Embrace it until you make sense of it. I find information on the internet every day, no matter how oblique or obscure. I think constantly of sharing what I have gleaned and sharing it with him.

His name is Wayne Monger. there was no funeral on the 8th of October. It has now been replaced by 2 birthdays on the 11th of November.

He is alive. Every day.

Whoever he is changing the lives of, now. How can he not be?

these are horrible people

 

so without mentioning the electricity company by name; let's just say that the actions of this energy provider came across as definitely un-Australian. the actions were like god's private mystery, and I am not religious. here we go.

1 month ago I received 3 emails in one day saying that one of my credit cards was about to expire. this was from my former energy provider, who had not been with for over a year. June 2022 to be precise. after many calls to their call centre, I was told to 'rest assured' that the emails were a scam and ignore them. there were no alternate addresses in the emails and no links to their site; only a link to their privacy policy which went to their site, without going to anything to do with my credit cards. 25 days ago, after also dealing with the energy ombudsman, I was given an assurance that I would not recieve another email from them again. 9 days ago I get another email from them and get this; containing a survey asking about loving to hear my thoughts interacting with the company.

so now it has come to the point where I and my former energy provider will receive a formal letter asking them to remove my email address from their system.

so please, after all this, I dearly hope that they take in the scope of this simple, yet direct, request.

please, fuck off.

desperate to get my head around the disparate

 

some of these things have a disparate quality within one descriptior; others are just a 'collective' overview of the disparate nature of now.

maybe let's start off with the definition of disparate

essentially different in kind; not able to be compared:"they inhabit disparate worlds of thought"

the other day, and I have no idea why, I passed out in the street. when I woke up, there were people standing over me, asking if I needed anything, like an ambulance or a glass of water. all I could think of was the dead bird on the way to the post office before I passed out. It was obvious the creature had been hit by a car, but then the overriding question; of all the wild birds that are alive in the world, and there must be millions, where do they go to die? Is there some order meaning that when a certain amount are born, there is some enforced attrition and for a certain population of birds it's sorry, but it's time to go? there is an obvious order to us beyond the service, whether it be burial or cremation and then in the form of the cemetery. there are no bird cemeteries or even for that matter, formal places for wild animals as a whole.

just today and without going into detail I was seeking a legal remedy in a civil matter. aside from the interruptions which destroy my train of conversation and moreover, thought, when the solicitor who was advising me spoke, there was only one thing going through my mind - his metaphors were crap. Not so much that they were not reflective of the common person or even the average person, as subjective as those descriptors may be, but they had this overall feel of examples from his world, with the only overall descriptor I could proffer as 'planet law', full of it's expertise and experience but no understanding of 'now' . then his comparison of email messages to physical junk mail in the letter box came across as somewhat naieve. like I was reporting something in it's infancy, even with organisations like an ombudsman to monitor certain behaviour. 

TikTok. maybe part of me thinks whoever is reading this may say to themselves, no need to take this any further - we understand, but I will elaborate. simply put, there is no overall meter to this medium, be it quality or quantity, or moreover, the quality of that quantity. joining bullet points or topic headings together do not even begin to qualify as conspiracy theories; they are the ghost of a theory. I may even agree with what is being said but more times I am left thinking go on, explain. many times I am also left with thinking whoa, wait a minute! putting it mildly, that association was a little far reaching for my taste, but there are people who take these associations on as fact.

there is a lot of discussion about gender terminology and gender roles, here's a dual suggestion. teaching children about gender theory using a fictional character in the form a gender unicorn? screw it, teach away and when they have a full understanding, explain it to me. plus the depiction of the gender unicorn looks like a standing hippopotamus with a horn on it's head, with no genatalia, in any form.

Aldi. no problems with the prices - bring it on. I have very simple tastes but it seems that everything I like or want is out of stock.

for more than one episode, the news has broadcast the phenomenon of the demand for Taylor Swift tickets as relevant or 'newsworthy'. please. she's a revlon advertisement for numbskulls. say what you want. the music is awful. if there was a stabbing or even a gun related fatality in the line for tickets, now that would be news.

I could add more but that's enough for now, perhaps explain it all to me. makes me think about aliens from outer space, travelling all that way only to be confronted by a fraction of all this. all I can think of is a map of the solar system and a note for earth. avoid - exhausting.

mission accomplished!

 

this blog reminds me of the first blog I ever wrote about finding a passport at the supermarket and this involves something that happened the other day. the name of the pittie is Maggie and was wandering around the local train station. I was wondering where the owner was and with no owner in sight, I checked her collar. there was an address and a phone number. I left a message and waited for a return call. meanwhile, Maggie had a look on her face kind of suggesting like, well you've seen my address and called my owner, so failing a return call, why don't you take me home? a short while later, the owner replied and said he would be there soon. so here I was, giving Maggie plenty of rubs behind the ears, which was such an ordeal (sic)! whilst waiting, Maggie wandered off, suggesting well, if you can't take me home, I'll try it myself... 

I called her back and kept her there with plenty of back rubs - the things you have to endure when trying to do the right thing (once again, sic)! the owner turned up and owner and Maggie were extremely grateful. he said Maggie was affectionate to everyone. part of me wanted them to hang around so I could pat Maggie even longer.

it turns out a delivery person dropped off a package and left a gate open, causing Maggie to wander off.

anyway, a few days later I told this story to a person who said that they wouldn't have done it because they simply wouldn't have the time. to which I replied,

'are you fucking mental!?!?'

it's a weird thing as to what people regard as a priority nowadays

personally, I wouldn't have done it any other way.

part one?

 

the only other blogs I have done with more than one part were excerpts from the diary of Samuel Peyps in relation to the great plague of England and another in relation to our cares and woes with the vaccine and COVID.

so let's cut to the chase, shall we? former president  of the United States - 

Donald J Trump on trial

get ready for a few things that are going to turn this into a marathon. First off, having witnessed a few civil and many criminal trials in my time, there is a world of difference between the two.

perhaps we should start an online betting app as to the following-

the amount of times the residing judge says could the witness restrict himself to answering the question

the amount of times the prosecution objects

and here's something that might turn up  - the amount of times the defence objects. to witnesses they have called and even the accused when he takes the stand.

the main thing that comes to mind watching his speech after being formally indicted was this - the trial has nothing to do with the guilt or innocence of Joe Biden, Bill Clinton, Hilary Clinton, the FBI, the Department of Justice, politiciian Anthony Weiner, US National Security Advisor Sandy Berger, Dick Cheney, prosecutor Jack Smith, the Democratic Party en masse and Hunter Biden. even George W Bush and Mike Pence. surely that is all of them.

it all has to do with the guilt or innocence of one person

Donald J Trump

but the one thing that could really make for great odds in the betting world - the amount of times he could be charged with contempt of court and the subsequent number of days he could spend in jail for that alone. could hamper his campaining schedule a tad.

actually, there has to be at least a part 2. right now my head is spinning in relation to all this.

if you thought Amber Heard was a piece of work.

get ready.

Youtube

 

so here are some points about what I don't understand this absolute mystery of life - Youtube.

when you play a guitar demonstration and the guitar has new strings on it, the guitar has new strings on it, but it sounds muffled because of my crappy laptop speakers.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2UlmgR_1ocU&t=932s

the introduction page has a video that is part of a series, but it is the second or third, or even who knows. You can only get to other parts once you have clicked on the relevant video. I'm not going to bother posting a video here.

when you search .for the word 'mix' and find a mix of an artist, you have exactly that problem - finding it. For example, the artist Bill Burr has a mix with his wife.

plus i feel weird describing an artist with the word artist. It sounds formal.

not so much abusive comments but weird comments.

intensely short videos

there was one video, speaking of Bill Burr that went for 11 hours!!! Talk about dedication!!!!

when it doesn't work(!)

is this how it starts?

 

So in my mind it was a freak of nature. My best friend for over 30 years dies. Along with his passing the music died, the massive exchange of information on a daily basis died, but moreover and most importantly the humor died, which may have been a blessing because he made me laugh so hard I couldn't function. I just lay down on the ground, in pain and begging him to stop.

January 10 this year. Jeff Beck dies. Sure it's rock n roll he played but the tremolo bends, the pinched harmonics with tremolo bends and his use of slide - techniques to name a few certainly changed the face of music. Certainly changed the face of my music.

That night I watched him play Where Were You - Live at Ronnie Scott's. Sure, majestic and beautiful, but there is one moment around 1:40 when he unleashes the power. Now every time I see this I stomp my feet as a form of joyous celebration - then I start to cry.

So is this how it happens from now on? I am at the age where my heroes start dying? There is a paradox in the age of now we are living in.  I have some issue with the new Ricky Gervais series After Life. He had a computer filled with videos of the time with his former partner. The paradox is I would give anything that similar files existed in relation to my best friend. At the same time I would give anything that similar files never existed in relation to my best friend

Putting it mildly (and personally), a case of information overload. Messages sent, messages delivered and Youtube videos to say the least. The temptation to become a glutton of grief.

But let's just come out and say it. Fuck it, I'd rather have them both back alive and no more information about my heroes dying from now on please.

the tenants

So these three people moved out some time ago and they were replaced by a family getting their house renovated but, needless to say, I  don't really miss them.

Here's the schedule. From midday until about five the friends of tenant#1 came to visit, tenant#2 between seven and ten and tenant#3 nine until all hours. On the weekends all bets were off with overlap occuring between all three groups of guests from the early hours of the morning until late.

Now here's the thing. All three tenants and their respective associates domain was the back yard and their tool of choice for relaxation was the bong. As the next door neighbor in this scenario, I had no issue with this form of herbal relaxation; the constant playing of Pink Floyd and music of the like wasn't loud but got a bit repetitve after some time. My main concern was the wind direction and the subsequent smell.

It was something I could tolerate until one event in history until one event changed everything - the pandemic. Due to circumstaces beyond me they must have changed dealers; as a side note I never thought that the pandemic would cause drug dealers to deliver. On a semi-regular basis, the groups of tenants would stand outside the local Centrelink in pairs, with one of them getting into a car that pulled up for a couple of minutes. Call me a bigot as far as evidence goes, but I observed this going on for a few months as I passed them when walking down tht street to do some shopping.

The smell had changed from the tolerable to the repugnant. This was totally different as this shit was strong and stunk like crazy. Wind direction made no difference and I was confronted with this stench for at least twelve hours a day,  seven days a week..

I had no desire to get anyone in trouble but this was becoming intolerable. Out of curiosity, I went to the local police station - to get a drug test. Twelve hours a day,  seven days a week of this pungent smell I thought surely this must have had some effect on me. I told the police that I don't smoke, I don't drive and I have none of the material in my possession, either in my house or on my person. Well it was a good thing I didn't drive because the test came back positive. I explained the situation to the constable and now a number of other officers after such a strange request; without giving any addresses, be it mine or theirs, they said there was little they could do in relation to what people get up to in the privacy of their own home. I had no evidence that they were dealing, but I sure  had plenty of evidence they were smoking.

A couple of weeks later there was a strange amount of activity going on next door. I walked to the shops and two of the tenants were standing in the front yard. I asked what was happening.

"We're moving out."

Curiosity got the better of me and thus came the immediate response-

"All of you?"

"Yes."

Then it hit me. At last I was free.

dream #1

                                                                                                                                                                                          

                                             

So the other night I as I slept I remembered Wayne was gone. I thought all of this deep trauma had disappeared; he had passed away in October of last year - I had stopped crying most nights in March. Sure, I still miss him, but now in May I thought at least I was coping.

Then - it started.

It was like he was still here. I could not remember the specific environment, but he said something funny and we both let out a slight but collective giggle. Then we couldn't let it go.

The enormity of what he said started to build and we both started laughing harder. Then it developed into him laughing at me - and me laughing at him.

Maybe he had a little more self control than I did, as I fell to the ground. I was laughing so hard I couldn't form the sound of laughter. I just lie on the ground and fill my lungs with air every minute or so, gasping to feed the pain of my stomach and lungs pulsating. How can I describe it? The agony of intense humour. The occasional begging of "please stop", coupled with the phenomenon of us collectively wiping way our tears.

Then I woke up. 

Tears of joy rapidly turned into tears of pain and remorse. I was sweating like something that sweats profusely then I sat up, my head in my hands.

As selfish as this may seem, I couldn't give a fat rats ass about any other ability, and it is not lost me that his talent on guitar was more than substantial.

He was a genius of joy and fuck it, I want him back.

right now

 

well, it's official. I am one of the worst people on the world. I'm not anti - vaccine, nor pro - vaccine. I just want more information. To be so arrogant to be informed. The saddest thing is the amount of information I have been sent about so many points of view. Some saying get vaccinated but be careful because that is no guarantee. The amount of cases fully vaccinated but still getting the virus

20 years of Afghanistan. What was that all about? I don't want death to America, they are doing a good enough job of that on their own.

The climate crisis is real. So what are we collectively going to do about it? Keep the same mindset? Scotty from marketing is so useless and exhausting. He really loves statements about confidentiality to give him the chance to say and do nothing.

Businesses locally have closed up even before lock down. Sydney Road has felt like a Sunday for months. Today was interesting catching the tram to Coburg. So many people not wearing a mask. It makes me wonder why I bother.

who I miss

 

so let's make a list of those who I miss

Ian Dury - a wholesale celebration of funk

George Harrison - Photograph. I know it was sung by Ringo but what an amazing song 

Christopher Hitchens  - obsessed with what he would say now

George Orwell - what would he write about now?

Charlie Murphy - beyond funny just telling stories

Jon Hassell - part of me thought he would live forever

George Michael -love the solo record but look him up on Youtube - hilarious.

Bill Withers - just look up live on the BBC

Marvin Gaye - got to give it up (both parts) and sexual healing

I am sure there are more but that is enough so far

the ultimate dilemma

 

so here is the problem. I have been attending a psychologist. the one main problem is this. they ask the question how are you at the start of the session. how am I? I am having a bloody session with a psychologist! how the hell do you think I am?

but then there is the paradox. part of me thinks if there was a moment where there was a truly confronting question and I replied both candidly and honestly, then the response was wow, that is beyond mental. I would find some solace in that. It comes across as having some inherent honesty and actually addresses whatever the issue at hand.

another thing that they would never say that I would dearly love to hear is the words I guess you're screwed then. or words to that effect.

the dilemma

 today I was faced with the worst dilemma. Between hoping for luck to come any way to anyone and bureaucratic nonsense .It happened with my sister and a visit to the supermarket. Four days ago, where she was identified in a virus hot zone and a supermarket. That she took so long to get tested and subjected to federal nonsense just added insult to injury. The worst injury is all we can hope for is luck that this thing will cease. This is exhausting and makes no sense, without going into details but especially after parliament question time. Just get a perspective on this damn thing. There was a place I visited once and there was one infectious place in it. The Fairfield Infectious Diseases Hospital. Wasn't it once purpose built? Isn't it still upstanding? Can it still function in some way? Give us a break.

tram

 

so yesterday I was on the tram and of the 20 odd people who were on, 3 were wearing masks. The paradox of this is I left my mask at home so I had to go back to get it. I completely forgot I had a bag of masks in my bag. My thought process was 1. I hate wearing these things. 2. If all of you couldn't be bothered, why should I? Yet I persist. For the common good.

On the way home there is still a bunch of people not wearing masks so I offer one to someone. He barks at me where the fuck do you get off? I said, Moreland Road. Next stop some inspectors get on and he gets a $200 fine. I was giving him a mask for nothing. 

Last week I was annoyed by all this and there was a girl not wearing a mask. I gave her the look of death. She asked if I wanted to sit down. No, I said I wanted her to wear a mask. The driver berated me and said you need to treat fellow passengers with respect.

Well, where's my respect? Everyone must wear a mask.

define a mess

 it ain't a mess, but it'll do until the mess gets here. This guy was a guy. He's dead. The other guy was in charge. He killed him.

tell me about the factions. Those who will rise up. Make this a mess beyond belief. Other people will rise up, then insanity will reign.

look at this mad asshole on this guy's neck. How is that O.K?

I think just one more person to die at the hands of an officer like this and it will be on for young and old.

the solution

now this is not a solution. This is not even a suggestion. This is based on a dream where everything made sense to me. I am on the tram and, in the dream, half the commuters were not wearing masks. So my response was to shoot them in the ass.

keep in mind, I don't have a gun. My thoughts in the dream went to caliber. I have no desire to use a shot gun, that would create a huge mess. Something single shot with a low caliber or even an air rifle would be fine. It would hurt like fuck and take weeks to heal. If they still insisted on being an arrogant moron, to be fair, I could not so much turn the other cheek but use the other cheek.

this probably would be too hard for Richard Harris to take on because of his need for disregard. This is a whole new universe. Not serial killing - serial shooting in the ass.

maybe this is the greatest dilemma. Shooting with a purpose to enforce the common good.           

so what next?

 

recently there was the great storm in a teacup over the need for the hyper sensitive to change the name of an ice cream. I suppose the very mention of the name Golden Gaytime is enough to send the insanely correct into a seething rage. Far be it from me to suggest something that will set them off once more but I think I have the very thing that will generate a petition lodging frenzy. Just exactly who they want to complain to has got me stumped. But I guess I really don't really know the power of the internet when in the hands of the mentally unhinged.

Patsy Cline. Walkin' After Midnight. 

I go out walkin' after midnight

Out in the moonlight

Just like we used to do, I'm always walkin'

After midnight, searchin' for you 

I walk for miles along the highway

Well, that's just my way

Of sayin' I love you, I'm always walkin'

After midnight, searchin' for you 

I stop to see a weepin' willow

Cryin' on his pillow

Maybe he's cryin' for me

And as the skies turn gloomy

Night winds whisper to me

I'm lonesome as I can be

I go out walkin' after midnight

Out in the moonlight

Just hopin' you may be somewhere a-walkin'

After midnight, searchin' for me 

I stop to see a weepin' willow

Cryin' on his pillow

Maybe he's cryin' for me

And as the skies turn gloomy

Night winds whisper to me

I'm lonesome as I can be

I go out walkin' after midnight

Out in the moonlight

Just hopin' you may be somewhere a-walkin'

After midnight, searchin' for me 

of course, it's obvious isn't it? This tune just screams promoting rape culture. It makes me think why they haven't tried to ban it sooner. Forget women mock tribbing and licking on the Grammy's, this is outrageous.

then there is my trip to the supermarket the other day  - 

"where's the Coon cheese? what's it called now?"

there is no way I'm going to tire of asking that question. It's based on a family name and has nothing to do with race. Get over yourselves, you morons.

 

activism

 so here are two tales of activism.

earlier in the week, I went to a protest. They met at Carlton Gardens in the afternoon to protest climate change. I have been busy dong other stuff but the day seemed free so I thought I would participate. A few observations - 

1. There should be some award for having more police present than protesters. On foot, in cars, in vans and on horses.

2. Once they started marching, I wished they walked a little slower. Savor the protest; I couldn't keep up with the throng. Maybe the protesting game is a younger person's game or maybe I'm just not protest fit. Part of me thought the copious amount of police surrounding us as we were marching were setting the pace

3. When they reached the main destination, a bunch of them locked themselves together or locked themselves to power poles or bike stands. Maybe it's just me but I didn't get it. It came across sort of petulant and childish.

anyway, I participated.

the next story involves a woman at the tram stop at Moreland Road, on the corner of Sydney Road. This woman comes up and asks if the tram is coming soon. I was drinking a coke and she goes into a lengthy diatribe about the carcinogenic properties of diet coke, which I wasn't drinking but she seemed to be leveling some kind of barb at me. Then she asked me if I had learnt anything new today. My response was just now I had learnt the value of peace and solitude - or lack of for that matter. Not getting the hint at all she starts singing some protest song in relation to some incident at Melbourne University from who knows when. Now get this - I leave and she starts following me and continues singing along Moreland Road. Because she is probably getting a tram she gives up not too far from the tram stop.

as I was walking away, I thought, is this the future when activists get old and remain active to embracing whatever cause on hand? 2 possible scenarios came to mind as I was walking away.

1. The first immediate thing that came to mind was to bark at her to fuck off.

2. Then I thought could there be some merit in just calmly stating to her that I am going to ignore you - because it saves time.

it turns out that actually performing and not stating the actions of scenario number 2 worked out fine.

 

3 things in one day

 

this was on a Sunday. I have no idea what it would mean if it happened on any other day. Sometimes it is either everything or nothing. I've had my fair share of nothing for a while; maybe it was time for a bit of everything.

1. So late morning and half the people on the tram aren't wearing face masks. There is one distinct exception to the rule however, as the majority of them are drinking. They are alcoholics and swilling cans of beer or mixer - all late on a Sunday morning. It still seals the deal for me as to what is the point of face masks. I think of the sum total of people during the week not wearing masks and this moment just seals the deal. Overall, if people can't be bothered, why should I? Yet I comply. I hate it, but I comply.

2. I am outside the front of the supermarket and I decide to clean my eye glasses using a hand sanitizing wipe from the dispenser out front. This woman walks up to me and asks if I am allowed to do this. My response is that I am doing it anyway, but if you have any great concern, maybe you could report it to the authorities. Or maybe you could go away and mind your own business. She was offended and stormed off in a huff, but strangely not so upset as to actually report it to anyone - and that was my suggestion. This makes me think what insane draconian measures people would come up with if they let their imagination run wild if they were in charge. Death penalties for all kinds of things.

3. I eat my lunch at the climbing wall across the road from Barkly Square. Two kids are playing there and one of them asks what am I eating. Before I can respond the mother walks up and says that our family are having quiet, private time together and she would appreciate that I not say anything to my children. I haven't said a word and stated that her kid approached me and said something. Her response? Nevertheless, just say nothing. I asked for quid pro quo. In turn, can you keep away from me? At best, you are mentally unhinged and I fear for the future of your children. As she was getting heated and animated I turned and walked away. Part of me wanted to really provoke her and say you've caught me on a Sunday, I usually assign my serial killing to a Thursday.

But that would require effort and based on the sum total events of today; basically, I am exhausted.

the nature of the beast

 

so I have resigned myself to the fact that the whole thing has been dysfunctional for so many years long before the crazy antics of Prince Harry in his formative years and the actions of Prince Phillip in those moments when he merely opened his mouth but looking at history, my relatives killed your relatives so we rule you. What exactly is the point of the royal family? If It means this degree of insanity, you can forget it.

now I wish no one to go through the trauma of suicidal ideation, but then I learnt about the fee the couple were going to be paid for the interview. $9 million dollars. Apparently, money can't buy happiness, but for that tidy sum, you can surely rent some happiness for a while. Plus renovations on the family home would go some way. Courtesy of the English taxpayer.

but there still the one thing that nags me and that is the cost. Have a look at this chart

to be frank, I am still wondering about Prince Andrew. Sure, he may not be on the books and has stepped down from his public duties, his actions may not scream jail, but at least trial. The Queen's net worth as of 2020 is $460 million dollars. For what? 

really, this is enough to give an aspirin a headache. Especially when it comes to the point of all this.

part of me gets the feeling that all kinds of factions that are seething in the United States alone are going to get one trigger that will set them all off and make this Royal nonsense a mere footnote. The President is senile and not long for this earth. Just one complication and watch out - the mess is about to explode.