Turks Bezerk

Off to Turkey tonight. Can't wait.

Got lovely drunken txt last night that was from someone quite unexpected!

01:08am New Message
i can see your naked body on top of me right now and it doesn't just look fucking sexy, it feels fucking sexy too.

Nice! Can only assume it was meant for someone else. May just let it slide for a week.

Text slut

Last night I spent online drunkenly looking for jobs and getting flirty on the txt with a work colleague, which was fun but not wise. Made a tit of myself. He only said 'are you at the pub?'. Basically translates as 'you must be pissed' but in my pissed state I thought it meant he wanted to join me and replied 'Nope, at home'.

Got frustrated at lack of jobs on Internet and ended up fooling about with my tax, and then, in the most typical time-waster style, did my IQ test. Got a score of 154. Depressing. Why am I doing such braindead work? Not that I hold any stock in those tests. Remember when I was a kid I asked mum what my IQ was and she said 'oh, I don't remember. I do know your brother has a high IQ.' Devastated.

Today, I extended the tit making ability. Told this guy I regretted the flirty txting and was going to stop the office flirting. He replied 'you'll save a fortune in txts'. Think it was meant to be a funny and polite let down, but it still came across as the Big Rejection. So I tried to justify it be joking that my txts are free, but technically I'm not. I explained that I wanted a friend, and not after an office affair, which is 100% true but sounds very sad and false. What's that expression about sleeping dogs? Again he was polite with a 'No probs. It's fine'. But again I couldn't let it rest, must have been hit by some kind of honesty drug, and spilled the beans that I'm going away to Turkey with this guy. Oh, the jealousy card is the last measure of the desperate!

Now, I'm looking back and wondering if I completely misread the situation. Get such a mixed vibe from this guy, and I know I'm also sending a mixed vibe. Maybe there was a chemistry... Anyway, too late now. I just blew any chance out of the water! Yay me!

It's true that I would like a bit of friendship. It's hard starting out in a new city. You get to that age where you have your group of friends, and you don’t tend to think of expanding that group. It's not like primary school where you bond over both liking pink lemonade. While I have met some great people, they tend to have their own group and only invite me to things when they think of it. Say, if I ran into them in the street they would say ‘oh, what are you doing this Saturday? We are all doing blah, come along.’ The invites are a matter of luck, being in the right place at the right time. Whereas at home, I was on the top tier for invites from all my five friends! It’s not personal, just the way people are, but it is hard.

And this bit about Turkey is true. I leave tomorrow with GM. Again, another complicated situation I'd rather not go into, but things are good.

Do I like Interpol?

Interpol: Media keep using the words 'Joy' and 'Division' to describe this band's sound, to describe the way they can make a song that was both unbelievably depressing and achingly uplifting. It's like Interpol have taken the same notes from 'An Ideal for Living' and played them in a different order. It's a cold shadow to live under. Perhaps it's not their intention, but have they missed the mark in delivering Ian Curtis angst? Is comparing them to JD even fair? As one critic said: "It's the musical equivalent of Gus van Sant's shot by shot remake of 'Psycho'."

Nevertheless viscerally powerful music both mournful and detached.

Renaissance and repetition

Great article in The Guardian today about cut and paste bands. While it seems like English pop and rock has had a resurgence, after a decade of dance music, many of the bands just seem to churn out mediocre sounds.

There are numerous morose, David Gray-type songwriters (Damien Rice, Johnathan Rice, James Blunt, Tom Baxter). There are the spiky, shambolic Libertines-type bands (the Rakes, new Virgin signings Kooks, the Others, the Cazals). Hordes of bands owe a bigger-than-healthy debt to Franz Ferdinand, including the Brakes, the Editors, VHS to Beta, the Departure and We Are Scientists. Much of the time, Razorlight are an eerie facsimile of the Strokes.Other spin-offs include the bands being signed because they sound a lot like the Killers, as well as the boy bands because they're from the same management stable as a McFly or Busted. Athlete and Keane [How they make me angry] are just the famous ones in a fog of bands producing endless permutations of Coldplay's sound.

In truth, some of them sound great but it's like they are only pushing all the right buttons to produce this winning formula. It's an empty orgasm of sound. Succesful Indie rock music defeats itself by its very nature. You can't be sardonic and critique society while wearing designer labels and simulating a rock band.

As for ballad pop, I used to hate Coldplay because I was cynical. Now, I secretly appreciate them but I can't forgive them for all their emulators. Part of me hopes that they will completely reinvent themselves. But they can't without losing their core audience, and they are limited with their sound. Nice as his voice may be, they will always make insipidly sweet balladic pop.

Perhaps that's why I always preferred Radiohead - who influenced Coldplay - and have changed their sound from indie rock pop to electronic bohemians.. Same with Blur, who tried about 5 angles before starting on side projects. Let's have more reinvention and less recycling.

Listening to Devendra Banheart. Now there is a guy that has no sound alikes. Perhaps that's a good thing, but for some reason his quirky sound can be catchy.

Living in fear

Shit! It happened again. A co-ordinated attack, this time no casualties and only major inconveniences but following the same pattern - 3 tubes, 1 bus. Incident escalated from 'minor' to 'serious' within an hour. We are now living with the phrases: 'Situation Amber' and 'suicide bombers'. Men in orange plastic chemical suits and sniffer dogs are becoming a regular and routine site. We don't even seem to notice them anymore.

A man arrested at Downing St. A hospital, where most of the victims of the last bombing are recovering, has been cordoned off after circulated memo warning of attack.

Reading inappropriately titled book on the Tube this morning. 'Big Bang' by Simon Singh. Not clever.

NecRomancers

Two surprise blast from the past emails from two different exes a few years past their use-by-date certainly caused me to reflect this month. It's the 'heard your single' jingle.

Funnily enough, Belle de jour posted on this very subject and she articulates her thoughts on the subject much better than I could:

Oh, so it's that time of year again already, is it? The ex-boyfriends making contact time. Must be the aftermath of June weddings or summat, for I can't figure it out.

There's more than just the whiff of desperation among this year's candidates. While last year was dominated by the I'm-Married-So-There contingent, this year my inbox is brimming with half-thought-out, wistful correspondences from the men who can't help but wonder, 'what if?'

Well, I'll tell you 'what if', darlings. If it was meant to be, it would be you and not someone else. If the timing was wrong then it isn't any better now, and though the passage of time may have many negative aspects - cringing at any photo taken of me circa 1985, for instance, when Bananarama was the word - there are some extremely positive ones, such as being grateful to not have been even more entangled with a man who does the email equivalent of drunk dialling every two years or so.

While I have seldom wished for the men in my life to be younger and less experienced, every time one of these notes drops through my electronic slot I find myself wishing for a return to the callowness of youth, when a goodbye meant exactly that. It is said that while women may hope for the revival of a romance, men know there is nothing so dead as a dead love. It plainly isn't true; I can only be polite and distant in a reply but wish someone would tell these buffoons they're attempting to resuscitate a pile of bones.

Love this image of The Night of the Living Dead Romance, but it seems the real thing for me is just as zombied, and certainly moving along in a shuffling 'eat your brains' manner, except it's on my side. While there is at least a few potentials out there, I still feel like there are tumbleweeds rolling in the place where my heart used to be.

Not going to go on about trying to revive the past because I know that is not the right path. I've seen Frankenstein. But in ters of romance there isn't much ahead of me either. Well, there is, but nothing that I want.

Actually I asked a guy out for a drink on a dare, and he said yes, so then I freaked out. But when we finally went out he casually said 'Is anyone else coming?' so he didn't realise that it was a date, or at least wanted to establish that it wasn't in his mind. And I felt relieved. I said No, and we had a few drinks together alone. Not sure whether he is flirting or not, but when you don't really care one way or the other where it's leading, you just come across a lot smoother and confident.

A quiet life

Been listening to The Longcut. I love their sound, but I wish the guy had a better voice. The punk voice with this almost Sonic Youth/Stone Roses sound seems to not quite work. Yet it's tasty. I want more.

mundanity and insanity

Well Jess had her little baby boy, Leo, and Katy had her little girl, Genevieve Albany. I can't believe that it's baby season already.

Not something that I thought I would do. Well... apart from those weird dreams that I have, and I know that if I was to have a child, I would probably be a single parent.

Marilyn Manson is clearly crazy with his latest obvious shock tactics, but he is good at being a celebrity.

What is more upsetting is this. Still a 'shroom virgin. Was planning to lose my mushy cherry (that just sounds wrong) but was too lazy to trek to Camden on the weekend and Wilks told me a lie about the dates. I should have just done it, and skipped Greenwich. Mind you, I can always go to Amsterdam...

Con Form

Can I just say I hate post offices and I hate DVLA. I have been to the Post Office twice this week and I still have this form in my bag unsent.

First time, I had to get the form. None on display. Queued for form.

Second stage. Get photo. Find someone in this country that has known me for 2 years to sign photo and fill out form. Find the guy. Append photo to form (which I will regret in under 24 hours).

Third, bring in passport and take to PO to get verified, but they will verify UK passports only. As a dirty foreigner I have to send mine to DVLA and place my trust in the swine that run the postal system that it won’t be lost and will be returned to me. The same swine that can’t stock forms and have no pens in their offices, not even for sale!

Oh, and guess what, I need another form to find out where to send the form too. Queue for form.

Realise I need to refer to form INS 572/B fucking X to find out how much to pay. Of course, would you believe it, they have run out. Need to come back another day.

Finally, I have everything together, but I need to sign it. But the only pen in the PO was red… ‘They won’t accept that’ she says, and flips it back to me as if I’ve smeared the application with faeces. So I have to fill out a whole new fucking form because I needed to use a black pen. To top it all off, when I come back to office, my black pen is gone.

bloggerbater

Finally getting around to posting about T in the Park. Awesome fun. Went with lovely John who played tour guide. Edinburgh is gorgeous. I actually prefer it to Dublin, although I prefer the Irish for company.

The festival was in the country and the people there were mad. God the Scots can drink. And they drink until they fall over at a stupidly early hour - like 3pm only 3 hours after the doors open. This left John and I stepping over bodies and rubbish to see bigger and better bands in ever dwindling crowds. A nice advantage.

Some of the women too. Back to the Loch with you, Nessy. I haven't seen that many large people together since Vegas. OF course, the ones that were pretty were gorgeous. All that red hair.

The Bands, yes. Highlights:
James Brown - still spinning.
The Killers - heard some new stuff. Those guys are going places.
Doves - beautiful shoe gazing pop.
The Longcut - early Sonic Youth meets Stone Roses with a dose of Ramones. Really liked this guys. Watch that space.
Death in Vegas - well we sat outside the tent but they were kicking
Susanne Vega - just nice to see her live. All those girls with accoustics sound alike after a while (smelly cat, smelly cat) but she was a pioneer.
Audioslave - like seeing a cover band do SoundGarden and Rage Against the Machine, but it was actually them. He is looking a bit weathered, but Chris Cornell is still on my top 6 list of male vocalists I would happily shag.
The Coral - I missed them but have been listening to them all week.
Joss Stone - she is talented, I admit.
Death from Above 1979 - yeah, mad sheeeet.

Lowlights:
Keane - fraudulently peddling bland middle-of-the-road ooze while pretending to be an exciting "alternative" rock band, and ruining the credibility of British music. Although I do like his voice.
Maximo Park - as above, although I like skinny lead signers with skinny ties that grab the mike and shake their leg young elvis style, and hop about the stage like their music is really exciting.

Felt really happy for the first time in ages. Came back and smoked up a storm with George, talking rubbish philosophy, then home to my sweet sweet bed!

That first egg was named thought

Like this quote of the week. Very Monkey Magic:

Dalai Lama Quote of the Week

The Meaning of Empowerment
As for empowerment in general, what does the term wang, or empowerment, signify? To begin with, our fundamental nature - what we term 'the buddha nature', or tathagatagarbha, the very nature of our mind, is inherently present within us as a natural attribute. This mind of ours, the subject at hand, has been going on throughout beginningless time, and so has the more subtle nature of that mind. On the basis of the continuity of that subtle nature of our mind rests the capacity we have to attain enlightenment. This potential is what we call 'the seed of buddhahood', 'buddha nature', 'the fundamental nature', or tathagatagarbha. We all have this buddha nature, each and every one of us. For example, this beautiful statue of Lord Buddha here, in the presence of which we are now sitting, is a representation that honours someone who attained buddhahood. He awakened into that state of enlightenment because his nature was the buddha nature. Ours is as well, and just as the Buddha attained enlightenment in the past, so in the future we can become buddhas too.

...In any case, there dwells within us all this potential which allows us to awaken into buddhahood and attain omniscience. The empowerment process draws that potential out, and allows it to express itself more fully. When an empowerment is conferred on you, it is the nature of your mind - the buddha nature - that provides a basis upon which the empowerment can ripen you. Through the empowerment, you are empowered into the essence of the buddhas of the five families. In particular, you are 'ripened' within that particular family through which it is your personal predisposition to attain buddhahood.

So, with these auspicious circumstances established in your mindstream, and when you reflect on what is taking place and maintain the various visualizations, the conditions are right for the essence of the empowerment to awaken within you, as a state of wisdom which is blissful yet empty - a very special state that is the inseparability of basic space and awareness. As you focus your devotion in this way, it allows this special quality of mind, this new capability, as it were, to awaken.
-- by His Holiness the Dalai Lama from Dzogchen: The Heart Essence of the Great Perfection, published by Snow Lion Publications

Whooooo is meeeee?

Apparently Wilks is the little kid from the Anglican TV ad, that runs around singing that song 'Hello, my God. This is me speaking. I'm calling up to say hello to you. I thought I'd like to tell you, it makes me glad to know...' The rest is blank.

Remember this one:

If I was a bird in a tree, I'd thank you God for giving me wings.
If I was a fuzzy wuzzy bear, I'd thank you God for giving me hair.
But I just thank you God for making me, me.

Then there is the creepy:

Why is a tree a tree?... whooooo is meeeee?

The one with a very unsettled and scared looking child peeking out from behind a tree, no doubt hiding from some tyrannical brother waiting to sodomise him senseless.

Explains a lot about Wilks. Whoooo is Wilksssss?

Indomitable spirit

This has been the most extreme week. Bombs have completely shaken this city.

Still trying to absorb everything and put it into words. It is incredible to be in the midddle of the explosions, the eye of the storm, where everything was eerily empty and calm knowing that underneath me and all around me there were rescue workers doing their hero thang.

Then to call home and speak to the family was so good. I wanted to cry when I heard their voices, but couldn't. My sister was just mad at me for not sending a postcard, and my dad extremely relieved. My mum calling in the middle of the night (must call her back). God, I love them all so much.

Speaking to the ex was the strangest. It was a 'could have been me, could have died' conversation and I should have felt lucky and intensely scared and full of life and love and appreciation. I wanted to say 'If anything had happened you know how I feel' but I didn't know how I felt. I was numb, probably shock. The Aussie reaction is to make a joke in the face of fear, which he did. A harmless joke about a mutual friend's viagra habit. But I felt a little disgusted with his response because I was in an office block only a few metres from a burning bus where at least 13 people died.

If it had been him... it would have been too awful to think about. But it was me that had the near miss and I don't know how to feel.

Of course, it wasn't just him making jokes. It was a general response from people on the other side of the world, and the same reaction I would have had if I hadn't been at the centre of it. Perfectly natural. But there were photos of people with their faces torn off in the papers. It's not the right time to speculate about who did it, or why, or whether it was deserved. It's not the right time for political commentary. Instead, it's all about stiff upper lip, Churchillian courage and carrying on with indomitable spirit.

As one commentator put it: "May I just remind you of one of those little rules that we have in our civilised society? We bury the dead and console the bereaved before we start making asinine political points."

I actually felt like a Londoner. It's a strange feeling, the feeling of belonging, because it's a transitory thing. I'm neither Australian, nor a Londoner. I'm straddling two worlds and am not completely in either.

It's funny because only a week ago I was quite lonely and thinking that if anything bad was to happen to me, would people notice that I had disappeared. Now I feel a bit more connected, like I do have a community here. Perhaps after Live8 and the Olympic win, people in old Blighty are more galvanised.

Interesting side note on how this was reported in The Guardian today.

On the whole, grateful to be alive and amazed at the spirit of Londoners. There was a man handing out cups of tea in the city. Doesn't get more British than that.

a funny thing happened on the tube the other day

On the Victoria, almost at OC when the tube stops. No-one looks up. After a minute or two, the driver tells us there has been an electrical fault at KingsX and the escalators aren't working. I get out, but the tube stays stopped at OC platform.

Finally bustle into work and logging on to emails when the word 'bomb' is mentioned. I walk to the boardroom to watch the news. Two blasts. Four.

Look outside. Men in yellow. Tape. Confusion. All traffic is halted. Nobody looks at anybody else. Nobody cries out. Nobody shows fear. I try to call my friends but the networks are jammed.

More confusion. A jangled morning.

Scribble scratch

Yes that is a lot of indulgent angry scrawling in my last post. It's like those angry jabs of the pen into paper when you are having a frustrating conversation on the phone.

Trying not to be so crazy, but sometimes I gotta let it out. It's like coughing up a fur ball of hate.

I am only the gun

Feeling very edgy and nervous this week. Not sure what I want to do. Need to organise leave if I'm going home for the wedding and my grandma's 80th, but I don't have enough money to get a return yet. Also, I hate my job and am so lonely here that it's tempting to quit and come home. I need to give 2 months notice so I need to make up my mind now. What if something wonderful is just around the corner? What if I get a fabulous new job? Well, then I probably couldn't take the leave that I need to come home.

Plus there are other holidays I want to take. I can't do both trips with the leave that I have.

The other night my flatmate accused me of using his favourite cup (I wasn't even home when the crime occurred). Then last night he handed out free wine to the other housemates. When I asked if I could also have a glass, he said I couldn't as punishment for using his cup. Made me so upset that this is the school yard level of my life now. Is this the life I chose? Why do my flatmates make me feel like a leper? Don't they remember when they first came here? Or is it because they all have each other that they don't realise.

On Sunday I got teary at the museum because I paid full admission only to find out that all the exhibits and games were two player. The world is designed for couples or people with friends. I can't even go to a museum without being reminded of this.

What about people that walk through life alone? Why should we be made to feel like a social outcast just because we're alone? Why does every cafe table set for 2? So they can take away the empty setting when we sit down.

Lectures from home about how I made this choice to come here are meant to help, but they don't. I just keep thinking that it's my fault that things fell apart at home. I will never know whether it would have made a difference if I had stayed. I am such a different person now - but I'm not sure if I'm stronger. I only feel angry, lonely and slightly crazy today. Despite all this, I don't want to have a boyfriend or fall in love. I don't want anybody unreliable shitting on my life with one foot permanently turned to leave the relationship.

There's no point saying that I made the choice to come here, because the door to my life at home has slammed shut in my face. I can't go back and I can't seem to make any progress going forward. There doesn't seem anything ahead of me here. Again people say to put in the effort and after time it will happen. What if I said balls to that. I have rubbed my life raw putting in the effort and this shit still don't shine.

Where the fuck is the sun, is what I want to know.

How appraisals really work

I never posted anything about my work appraisal last month so this is my belated contribution.

What do guys think?

The latest mystery to add to the 'What is a guy thinking when he...?' list, I have to add:

What was a certain boy thinking when he went to a stags night at a strip club on Saturday and txted me that there wasn't enough intellectual conversation? This is followed up by the mysterious, presumably drunken txt - 'you're the absolute bomb. fa reel'. (Is that English?)

I should be flattered that he was thinking about me while watching pole dancers but I find it a little disturbing on various levels. Shouldn't he just be enjoying the moment and not texting me a blow by blow (oof, bad pun) account of his sordid night? Or maybe he was trying to set himself apart from his mates as being more than another seedy red-blooded male. I know that. He has nothing to prove.

If I was at a strip club on a hen's night, would I txt him? Only to brag about how many dancing dollars I put in their g-strings with my teeth! No, that's not true. I would feel just as uncomfortable, bored, turned off at this showy display of titillation, and a certain level of repulsion towards the whole scene as he did. I would probably feel the need to reach out and txt someone about it too.

Why am I so cynical? Because if there are that many men that hate strippers and strip clubs as they claim, why is there an industry? If I had a dollar for everytime I heard a man say he didn't like that sort of stuff, I would be earning a lot more than I do stripping for men.

In more news from home, Mum said that the floods had her trapped for a while because the river nearby and the creek in her yard actually joined cutting her off from the world. But she loved the chaos of it, I think. Loads of wild river birds came and swam in the billabong. Some long lost and forgotten piece of furniture was suddenly burped up from the depths, and then strewn up to her door as some sort of slimey offering from the river gods. This heavy wooden chair was lost five years ago and it’s a mystery how it ended up at the bottom of the creek.

Wasabi peas

I just gave a guy at work a wasabi pea because he had never had wasabi before and I wanted to see how cute he would look when he was in pain. tee hee.

Kiss me for luck

I remember a year ago I was so happy that I felt like I needed to spread it around, pass it forward. I remember feeling guilty that there weren't people in the world as happy as we were at the time. There were people coveting some of what I had. I had money, a satisfying job, a boyfriend, great friends, and great place to live.

And I also had the memory of where I came from, of a time when I scraped together pennies to buy food, when I worked as an ice-cream cone maker for Royal Copenhagen just to pay the rent.

Now, well I don't have that same extreme feeling of happiness anymore. I put myself out of my comfort zone and travelled the world - so I have been lucky - but the feeling of responsibility for others still looms. There is something really huge missing from my life. There is a thought that has been rolling about in my head and growing for a while now. I missed out on the first round, but after a bit of digging I have found many different offers.

Really want to tell people too, because I could do with support and encouragement for this, but at this moment I think it is best not to jinx it. I can say it's not a completely selfless act. I mean, this is me we are talking about. But it is probably the biggest thing that I could do for other people.

The doubts are - am I fit enough? Will I get the money in time? Will I be able to finish it?

It has nothing to do with my life. There are more important things in the world than career and marriage. There is the rest of the fucking world, for a start.