My Manifesto: The Incoherent Ramblings of a Madman

Fuck me - it is dangerous driving around Port Macquarie by day during the week. Not only do old people drive out of everywhere and running out of everywhere, walkers in hand. Don't get me started on those crazy old people in their little electric scooter thingos.

"It's every man's dream to hear that beer and pizza can prevent cancer," he said. "However, the 17 beers and four large pizzas needed to get enough xanthohumol and lycopene to help prevent prostate cancer is unfortunately not advised."

Atkins noted that drinking 17 beers a day can lead to alcoholism and cirrhosis of the liver, and overdoing it on pizza can lead to obesity and other health problems.

Associated Press

Hey hey - finally some research we can use to our advantage. Bring on the beer!

There's nothing like dragging up an image from the past for no reason to make one feel nostalgic.

I was at the Art Express exhibition today at the art gallery. It is often good to see - but somehow it always depresses me when I see the themes that seem to run through the works: death; destruction; hopelessness; old age; and despair - there is never any hope. If they've all given up at 17 and 18 years of age, what hope is there for the future? Hell even now - i still care. I am not immune to realising there are a lot of fucked up things in the world, in fact most of the world is pretty fucked up - but i care, I hope, I try to make a difference. I have not given up (yet). What makes them feel they have to?

"I *heart* forests" the rally car proudly displayed on his bumper bar. He was ignorant of the fact he was a driving contradiction. An oxymoron in the steel. His parents who had sarcastically placed the sticker on him would be well aware of the irony. In contrast the environmentalists who spread the word of deforestation and the benefits of trees, on a tree-destroying medium, sadly, do not.

Looking over some of my recent posts I've realised I'm missing large sections of my year. The more I think about it - I am actually missing large sections of my year. For the most part this year I could not even tell where or when or what or how I've been doing anything or anyone. The year seems to be passing me by as quick as a flash and I have next to nothing to show for it.

Everyone around me is getting married and having children and their lives are engrossed with "families". My life really has nothing. I have no purpose at the moment. I need a new goal. I need to be driving towards something. I need an outcome to aim for.

"FUCK!" *yells loudly in a harrowing echoing shrill voice*

Back to world domination. Sometimes I need the apathy slapped the fuck out of me.

I've a new found love of reading the Saturday paper on Sunday. Sure it is a day late - but nothing happens on Saturday anyway. The world stands still over the weekend - despite what people try and make you believe. A long weekend? Hell nothing will happen for almost an entire week in Australia. A long weekend during the football world cup? Hell nothing will happen until the world cup is over in the entire world!

Sure Hamas have called an end to their self imposed cease fire - but they don't have a team in the world cup anyway, if they did on the otherhand, there would be no need to be killing those pesky Jewish settlers on the westbank. And Israel? Hell if they had a team in the world cup they'd not be there indiscriminately killing those pesky Muslims on the west bank.

The articles in the Saturday Sydney herald are amazingly well written compared to the re-hashed Sunday tripe. The only problem I have is that to sit at a table and read the paper you have to spread it out over a 20 metre square area because there are so many sections within it. To carry it requires a small crane or wheels.

I'm experimenting with obscure mix play lists for reading the paper, almost like elevator music, but not quite:

1. Radiohead;
2. Jose Gonzalez;
3. Ben Harper;
4. Rae and Christian;
5. Unkle;
6. Massive Attack;
7. Portishead;
8. Counting Crows;
9. Wolfmother;
10. John Butler Trio;
11. The Doors;
12. The Donnie Darko Soundtrack;
13. Jack Johnson;
14. Echo and the Bunnymen;
15. Enigma; and
16. Pearl Jam live @ Benaroya Hall

It is sort of cruisy, then upbeat, and every so often you get something with some punch coming through. Much like my feelings as I read the newspaper. It also makes for good Sunday afternoon drinks music.

I hope one of these days to get some new speakers. In fact - I hope today to get some new speakers. My weapon of choice is the middle of the range logitech THX speakers, with subwoofer that are meant to retail between $165-195. *crosses fingers* i expect they will cost around $300 here.

Until we meet again....

Lips Like Sugar - Echo and the Bunnymen.

She floats like a swan
Grace on the water
Lips like sugar
Lips like sugar
Just when you think youve caught her
She glides across the water
She calls for you tonight
To share this moonlight

Youll flow down her river
Shell ask you and youll give her
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

She knows what she knows
I know what shes thinking
Sugar kisses
Sugar kisses
Just when you think shes yours
Shes flown to other shores
To laugh at how you break
And melt into this lake

Youll flow down her river
But youll never give her
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

Shell be my mirror
Reflect what I am
A loser and a winner
The king of siam
And my siamese twin
Alone on the river
Mirror kisses
Mirror kisses

Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses
Lips like sugar
Sugar kisses

I'm sitting here alone on a saturday night on a long weekend drinking the dregs of a $100 bottle of wine and shivering with some dodgy soccer show on in the background on sbs tv about nerdy english guys who are in a football team...god damn my life is on track. To make matters worse - either my eye sight is so bad that I cannot notice that my monitor is meant to be blurry according to REM or i'm losing my mind.