My Manifesto: The Incoherent Ramblings of a Madman

Wrinkles the 2nd keeps dive bombing me. He hides in the hall way entrance to my place and when you least expect it - flaps his little moth wings and surprises the hell out of you. I guess it's just his moth way of saying merry Christmas - or solstice - or Hanukkah - constitution day - presidents day - foundation day...etc :)

Does it count as racism if it is against your own people or is it merely an observation?

It's been one of those weeks where I just don't feel right. Everytime I get up a sweat my glands seem to swell up under my chin...I've talked myself into having glandular fever I think...but for all I know it could merely be the usual thing that the glands do, that is, swell up because they're erm sweat glands.

I've got myself an mp3 player - now I'm on the struggle to cut back the amount of songs I have ready to put onto it. With the limitations of 120 or so songs - it makes it damn difficult to decide what is worthy and what is not. Although I'm still just buzzing due to the affect of my slightly more looked into but essentially impulse buy - it is really good. When running along to my tunes I can run faster, look stupider, and feel "eye of the tiger" pulse through my veins and not give a shit what the rest of the world is doing because I cannot hear them anyway!

I've never had the ability to run and listen to music at the same time before. Sure there were always portable cd players or walkmans - but were they ever really able to be carried with you as you ran. I guess if you're 80 years old and your idea of running is walking down the stairs to get the mail from the letterbox once a day, then maybe, but for me? Hell no. They've always sort of been like a pocket dictionary or a waterproof watch - all modern day myths. But an mp3 player is a different story altogether.

I cannot wait for next week when the thrill will have inevitably worn off and I will be here complaining how stupid my purchase was - because a) I didn't really need it; and b) there's a better one on the market already.

Thanks to all of these "race riots" on tv, which were really no more than the usual friday night fights outside the pub until the media suddenly turned a slow news day into a "riot" and encouraged people to turn up to wreak havoc. Suddenly everyone is an expert on Cronulla, Western Sydney, the Bra Boys, and Lebanese gangs. I have been delighting in talking down the lebs to people saying how dodgy they all are in sarcastic tone to be agreed with by people - something I quickly follow with: "I have lebanese heritage" with them either quickly squirming to try and apologize for their comments - either that or challenge my claim. Really I'm about as lebanese as Hitler was Aryan - but I was brought up on some lebanese dishes from an old family recipe that my mother got out of the Australian Women's Weekly cookbook.

"Racism sux" it says on the tv glowing in the background - I had no idea that racism was so dirty in bed. I think i could see me getting some of that racism action. Let's face it - if you can't beat them you may as well join them. Either that or kill the fuckers. However, the last time someone tried to kill an entire nation of racists Zimbabwe got kicked out of the commonwealth as punishment. Maybe an eye for an eye isn't the answer after all? Maybe we should just realise that the surfie fuckups just need to be loved by a lebanese gang member and they can live in oral harmony.

it's fucking shameful that anyone should feel so let down by their own country that they become a citizen of another country in a half-arsed attempt at getting help.

I was outside today watching the piling contractors argue about how to correctly rake a pile. They're piling contractors! Raking piles is all they do all day - literally! I felt like slapping some sense into them! How in the hell can they not know how to rake a damn pile properly? It's not rocket science! They had it all marked out! It's their only job! How? Howwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww?

Clumsy - Our Lady Peace

Throw away the radio suitcase
That keeps you awake
Hide the telephone in case, you realize that sometimes you're not okay
You level off but its not all right now
You need to understand
There's nothing strange about this
You need to know your friends
I'll be waving my hand watching you drown
Watching you scream
Quiet or loud
Maybe you should sleep
Maybe you just need a friend
As clumsy as you've been
There's no one laughing
You will be safe in here
Throw away this very old shoelace that tripped you again
Try and shrug it off
It's only skin now
You need to understand
There's nothing fake about this
You need to let me in
I'm watching you

I don't even like christmas - but I cannot wait to get some time off this year. My new job sucks. It really does. There is more responsibility than I have ever had before and I am not handling it very well at all. I am over my head. Again.

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German Protestant youth group has put together a 2006 calendar with 12 staged photos depicting erotic scenes from the Bible, including a bare-breasted Delilah cutting Samson's hair and a nude Eve offering an apple.

"There's a whole range of biblical scriptures simply bursting with eroticism," said Stefan Wiest, the 32-year-old photographer who took the titillating pictures.

Anne Rohmer, 21, poses on a doorstep in garters and stockings as the prostitute Rahab, who is mentioned in both New and Old Testaments. "We wanted to represent the Bible in a different way and to interest young people," she told Reuters.

"Anyway, it doesn't say anywhere in the Bible that you are forbidden to show yourself nude."

Bernd Grasser, pastor of the church in Nuremberg where the calendar is being sold, was enthusiastic about the project which is explained online at www.bibelkalender.de.

"It's just wonderful when teenagers commit themselves with their hair and their skin to the bible," he said.

I can't wait for some of his earlier work to achieve such popular support, such as, erotic pagan moments and erotic buddhist moments. I've heard his next project is erotic muslim moments. i can't wait!



(yes - I know - I should not give up my day job)

I am sick of people telling me that their house is getting sand out the front of it when they live on a beach. If only a person would tell me they moved to the beach for the sun and sand and they love what I do for them. But would I ever hear that? I'm not sure. Positive feedback is a difficult thing to attain in the workforce.

This poem has to be up there with The Cure's "Caterpillar", and The Velvet Underground's "Heroin" with rythm that makes you feel like you are there experiencing it all. However, unlike the former two songs mentioned - it needs no music to add to the atmosphere. I guess superficially it does no more than repeat the key word. Whether we chose to look at the surface, or attempt to look deeper into it for more meaning, which may or may not even be there. Tracing his life and death? Most likely.


The Bells - Edgar Allen Poe

I
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!

III

Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!

IV

Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.