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Thursday, April 15, 2004
Life is a roller coaster, just gotta ride it
Your thin end for today:
Have you noticed how Life is like one circular train track? Of course it is, think about it...
You start off your journey by embarking on the train as a newborn. You travel first with your Mum and Dad and any siblings you may have. As you travel people come and go in your carriage. Sometimes they are just passing through; sometimes they stop to chat for a while, and other's like the atmosphere in your carriage, they stay for the entire journey. Along the track you chop and change carriages, too and some of them you stay in for a long time, just taking in the view from a different angle, watching the scenery go by as it's reflected in a succession of other people's eyes. Every so often people will leave the train, but you don't know they are leaving until they have gone; they usually don't know they are leaving until the train has pulled away and is gathering speed as it races away from them, down the line with new passengers aboard. Then you have to wait for the next shared circuit around the track to catch up with them again.
I reckon that it would be easy to spend an entire lifetime always in the wrong carriage. Truly the train ride from Hell.
Speaking of Hell, visit HumanDescent and see what Noah neglected to include on the cargo manifest.
"Roaring Success"
~~ Don't touch the green acid, man" - Cheech n Chong ~~
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Have you noticed how Life is like one circular train track? Of course it is, think about it...
You start off your journey by embarking on the train as a newborn. You travel first with your Mum and Dad and any siblings you may have. As you travel people come and go in your carriage. Sometimes they are just passing through; sometimes they stop to chat for a while, and other's like the atmosphere in your carriage, they stay for the entire journey. Along the track you chop and change carriages, too and some of them you stay in for a long time, just taking in the view from a different angle, watching the scenery go by as it's reflected in a succession of other people's eyes. Every so often people will leave the train, but you don't know they are leaving until they have gone; they usually don't know they are leaving until the train has pulled away and is gathering speed as it races away from them, down the line with new passengers aboard. Then you have to wait for the next shared circuit around the track to catch up with them again.
I reckon that it would be easy to spend an entire lifetime always in the wrong carriage. Truly the train ride from Hell.
Speaking of Hell, visit HumanDescent and see what Noah neglected to include on the cargo manifest.
"Roaring Success"
~~ Don't touch the green acid, man" - Cheech n Chong ~~
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Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Grace and favour
Your thin end for today:
I'm all in favour of grace. In fact, I think it's a wonderful thing. Unless it's the kind that's holding up a yummy dinner, then I'm not so keen.
There are lots of different kinds of grace, when you think about it...
There's the charm version of grace - an ease and suppleness of movement or physical bearing. Elephants aren't known to be especially graceful.
There's the coups de grâce, the final merciful stroke of death to humanely euthanase the mortally wounded. I ordered mine on Friday the 21st of February this year... it hasn't arrived yet.
There's a saving grace, a redeeming quality or factor of some description. Where??
There are the Three GRACES (always in caps), the 3 sister goddesses in Greek mythology who are the givers of charm and beauty. Can you say " pfffftttt "?
There's de bonne grâce - the good grace, being willing and helpful. Allied to that, I suppose is the art of staying within someone's good graces for approval or favour. There's no payback for this one, folks.
There's also the intransitive verb version which confers dignity or honour or embellishes and adorns an object. Once upon a time I used to occasionally grace class with my inimitable obnoxious and overbearing presence. But I would never embellish, not me.
There are shitloads more meanings to this one, simple word. So many that I can't be bothered laying them all out. No, really.
Suffice to say that Grace is at least one of three Greek women selling charms and beauty products to elephants, who are always willing to assist administering the coups de grâce to their stricken benefactor. You know morticians use special make up for making the recently snuffed look damn fine in their wee box, don't you? I guess they sell a different kind of immortality, huh... (Remind me to tell you how I want my funeral to be, ok?).
Anyway, do you have friends? I used to have a lot of friends. Heaps of them. Are your friends good friends? You know the sort, the ones who you could ring at one in the morning because you needed to talk to them; the sort that would borrow $5 to give to you if you really, really needed it.
I used to have friends like that, too, but they are a bit thin on the ground lately. Remember how back near the end of the "Slice" blog I was talking about how stupid I had been rushing around all summer pretending I was a real person, well what I didn't realise until well after I realised that, was that that was exactly what I have to do if I want to have any friends or have a life, cos all my friends live in a busy world where I'm a bit sort of not a priority. Oh, it's natural, but it hurts and it sucks just the same. They are all busy banging their rocks together and getting ahead as best they can. They're working, and studying, or working AND studying, or working and screwing around, or working and trying not to screw around, or working hard at work and when they are not working they are working at home to save their marriage or their property or their sanity or whatever it is that is top of their priority list.
For weeks now I have done little more than sleep, and cry, and cry myself to sleep and sometimes cry in my sleep. Occasionally, someone will want something done for them and I will get my shit together long enough to comply with whatever good grace (there's that fucking word again) I can muster but that is just about the upper limit of my social contact. And no one's even noticed that I'm all broken into tiny little pieces and my heart is all smashed.
Guess who's not feeling very helpful at the moment? I wish my coups de grâce would bloody hurry up and grace me with it's presence while there's still someone left to organise the funeral. There's nothing like a bit of gratuitous self-pity to really get the bbq started.
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I'm all in favour of grace. In fact, I think it's a wonderful thing. Unless it's the kind that's holding up a yummy dinner, then I'm not so keen.
There are lots of different kinds of grace, when you think about it...
There's the charm version of grace - an ease and suppleness of movement or physical bearing. Elephants aren't known to be especially graceful.
There's the coups de grâce, the final merciful stroke of death to humanely euthanase the mortally wounded. I ordered mine on Friday the 21st of February this year... it hasn't arrived yet.
There's a saving grace, a redeeming quality or factor of some description. Where??
There are the Three GRACES (always in caps), the 3 sister goddesses in Greek mythology who are the givers of charm and beauty. Can you say " pfffftttt "?
There's de bonne grâce - the good grace, being willing and helpful. Allied to that, I suppose is the art of staying within someone's good graces for approval or favour. There's no payback for this one, folks.
There's also the intransitive verb version which confers dignity or honour or embellishes and adorns an object. Once upon a time I used to occasionally grace class with my inimitable obnoxious and overbearing presence. But I would never embellish, not me.
There are shitloads more meanings to this one, simple word. So many that I can't be bothered laying them all out. No, really.
Suffice to say that Grace is at least one of three Greek women selling charms and beauty products to elephants, who are always willing to assist administering the coups de grâce to their stricken benefactor. You know morticians use special make up for making the recently snuffed look damn fine in their wee box, don't you? I guess they sell a different kind of immortality, huh... (Remind me to tell you how I want my funeral to be, ok?).
Anyway, do you have friends? I used to have a lot of friends. Heaps of them. Are your friends good friends? You know the sort, the ones who you could ring at one in the morning because you needed to talk to them; the sort that would borrow $5 to give to you if you really, really needed it.
I used to have friends like that, too, but they are a bit thin on the ground lately. Remember how back near the end of the "Slice" blog I was talking about how stupid I had been rushing around all summer pretending I was a real person, well what I didn't realise until well after I realised that, was that that was exactly what I have to do if I want to have any friends or have a life, cos all my friends live in a busy world where I'm a bit sort of not a priority. Oh, it's natural, but it hurts and it sucks just the same. They are all busy banging their rocks together and getting ahead as best they can. They're working, and studying, or working AND studying, or working and screwing around, or working and trying not to screw around, or working hard at work and when they are not working they are working at home to save their marriage or their property or their sanity or whatever it is that is top of their priority list.
For weeks now I have done little more than sleep, and cry, and cry myself to sleep and sometimes cry in my sleep. Occasionally, someone will want something done for them and I will get my shit together long enough to comply with whatever good grace (there's that fucking word again) I can muster but that is just about the upper limit of my social contact. And no one's even noticed that I'm all broken into tiny little pieces and my heart is all smashed.
Guess who's not feeling very helpful at the moment? I wish my coups de grâce would bloody hurry up and grace me with it's presence while there's still someone left to organise the funeral. There's nothing like a bit of gratuitous self-pity to really get the bbq started.
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Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Banging the Rocks
Your thin end for today:
See how it glistens and it glitters
Is it really gold or precious stones?
The keen, discerning jeweller's eye
Is rooted deeper than his bones
It's bright and cheery, sparkling, merry
Adorning finger, throat and arm
If it's light and has no substance
Then it's only gloss and gleam and charm
Is it an heirloom or a keepsake
Or a trinket or a jewel?
Does it drape you arm with tenderness
Or is it comfortless and cruel?
Whether showy, tawdry, smooth or warm
Perhaps attraction's based on taste
And as years go by their chipped facades
Show which ones were made of paste.
I've been playing pictures again...
"The Chalice"
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See how it glistens and it glitters
Is it really gold or precious stones?
The keen, discerning jeweller's eye
Is rooted deeper than his bones
It's bright and cheery, sparkling, merry
Adorning finger, throat and arm
If it's light and has no substance
Then it's only gloss and gleam and charm
Is it an heirloom or a keepsake
Or a trinket or a jewel?
Does it drape you arm with tenderness
Or is it comfortless and cruel?
Whether showy, tawdry, smooth or warm
Perhaps attraction's based on taste
And as years go by their chipped facades
Show which ones were made of paste.
I've been playing pictures again...
"The Chalice"
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Monday, April 12, 2004
A starter for 10
Your thin end for today:
Let's revisit that Subservient Chicken again, shall we? I'm fascinated with this bird, I might even be falling in love... I always said there was nothing like a big cock to keep a girl amused and entertained for hours :-)
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Let's revisit that Subservient Chicken again, shall we? I'm fascinated with this bird, I might even be falling in love... I always said there was nothing like a big cock to keep a girl amused and entertained for hours :-)
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Sunday, April 11, 2004
A new beginning
Your thin end for today:
Here is it, a whole new canvas for my random bitchiness, assumed injustices and minor mental aberrations to spill over into, with just a hint of my habitual black and execrable humour and cyncism. It won't be as nice as the last one, that I can promise. I'm sick of being nice, it's not worth a pinch of shit.
If you missed the final rivetting installment of the Slice of Life, check in HERE to catch the story of Little Nicky.
Let's get this shit-fest on the road.
~~ "It's not easy having a good time, even smiling makes my face ache" - Frank N Furter ~~
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Here is it, a whole new canvas for my random bitchiness, assumed injustices and minor mental aberrations to spill over into, with just a hint of my habitual black and execrable humour and cyncism. It won't be as nice as the last one, that I can promise. I'm sick of being nice, it's not worth a pinch of shit.
If you missed the final rivetting installment of the Slice of Life, check in HERE to catch the story of Little Nicky.
Let's get this shit-fest on the road.
~~ "It's not easy having a good time, even smiling makes my face ache" - Frank N Furter ~~
|
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