February 2007 Archives

today has been a good day.

for the past, oh, two plus weeks now i've been waiting for a client to hand off some work. they put off the original meeting, then postponed the postponement, then rescheduled the postponed postponement and then brought me in tell me about the job i would have just as soon as they had the job to give me.

ha ha.

they were going to put me to work on friday or monday. guess what? still waiting. such is the life of a freelance writer.

i tell you this so you can glimpse my mood when i arose this morning, before nine actually, with the fervid hope that i might actually have some work to do.

no dice.

instead i worked on writing my third crossword puzzle. remember when i said i wasn't going to write any more? i lied. this one definitely shows a marked improvement over the previous two. this time, i'm being a right bastard and not letting anything through that's questionable. nothing but the most rigid quality control.

i'd already chosen, rechosen and tweaked my theme clues (those long jobbies that are full of puns, or tricks, or salmonella). i'd reblocked the grid half a dozen times and struggled mightily with the fill (the letters that all need to make words across and down). on monday, i'd finished a first draft of the fill and on tuesday i'd been cleaning it up. trying to get rid of words that weren't up to snuff. words like "inmesh" which is in the dictionary but which no one uses. i'd smoothed it all out except for the top left corner which was kicking my ass. i spent hours and hours working and reworking it but i couldn't find any way to make it any better than it already was. and it used the word "ensate" which means "having spear shaped leaves" and which is recognized by a handful of botanists and precisely no one else.

so. the good day.

i woke up and, finding no work, thought i'd try again at this stubborn bastard corner. at 11:47, i decided to screw it. ensate isn't so bad? but whatever, i'll give it until noon.

then i cracked it. i used super magical words that are actually words and now my whole damn puzzle has honest to goodness acceptable answers in all the across and down slots. i only have two answers that are icky and they're acronyms i can make something work for. and "bia" who's styx daughter or some such, sister to nike, addidas' aunt.

then, i went to the cafe i like where the dude who works there actually recognized me and asked me if i wanted the usual. my months of selfless coffee drinking have paid off! his name is bob! he works with teagan! he likes my shirt which says, "never give up on your stupid, stupid dreams." i might actually be MAKING FRIENDS?!?

while at the cafe i finished a first pass at my ethiopia article and made myself laugh out loud. i figger that either means i'm writing funny stuff or losing my mind and EITHER WAY it means things are looking up.

back at home, at about 4:50, this client finally called to say, uh, well, maybe we'll have this work ready for you soon. i was very nice about it (read = need the money) and said, "dude" or something to that effect.

whatcha gonna do, right?

then, since bartlebee was off being a yogic swami stretchy pants i took myself out to the pub where --- drumroll --- the bartender recognized me AND i got to eat a hamburger. i also watched some animal planet show called "sharks with teeth and fighting rabid weasels attack helpless bunnies with tridents" or something. it appears to be on non-stop except when they're showing commercials for it. in the educational programme, i got to see a dramatic recreation of some poor woman getting a friendly surprise from a giant python hiding down the hole of her squat toilet.

ha ha ha.

what could be better right?

i think i wouldn't shit for a month, and even then i'd probably go in one of the less nice pots. sorry honey.

so i guess i got some stuff done today and nobody yelled at me and there were no giant reptiles in the bathroom.

also, the tomatoes are ripe.

the end.

dear battlestar galactica,

do you remember when we first met? the passion and fire that filled our relationship? i used to tell everyone about you, about how happy i was to have found you. and it was true.

i used to get giddy with nervous excitement in the moments before our visits. and you reciprocated, filling our hours with the unexpected, so gritty and real and breathtaking.

but now, it's like i don't even recognize you.

the spark has gone. how am i supposed to be happy to see you when all you want to do is ramble on endlessly about the petty jealousies of your friends? i mean, really? who cares! if i wanted to hear about love gone sour i could talk to myself. you bore me with politics and psuedo-mystical claptrap. do you offer to take me out on adventures? no. do you introduce me to new people, new things? no. it's just the same old shit every week; disappointment, false drama, and pathetic attempts at getting some action.

if you don't like me any more, why don't you just leave? you've been making noise about "finding earth" for three years now. i think it's time you got off your ass and found it. those cylons you're so sure are chasing you might as well be cheerleaders for all the danger they pose. half of them can't seem to find their way out of a frackin' cocktail dress anyway. oooh... real scary my ass. the only way they could scare me is if they started trying to make a decision. talk about an endless, useless conversation.

so forget it. it's over. you can chuck my toothbrush and i'll mail you back your skivvies.

i'll be polite if i see you around but i think it's best if you don't call me for a while.

and sorry, but i better tell you before you hear it from someone else. i'm having a cheap fling with Grey's Anatomy. she's seriously irritating sometimes but at least she knows how to have fun. remember that? fun? no. probably not. frackin' drama queen.

goodbye,
xz

we were standing in a long line for gelatto. we happen to live by the best gelatto place in town and since gelatto here is like pizza in new york, that's saying something. plus, it's been forty degrees here and sticky. so we went to grab some cones before meeting black belt si at plan b, a bar we'd decided to scope out.

so we're standing in line for gelatto. as we near the front i tune in for a second to the guys behind us chatting. i'd been distracted by the gentleman in front of me because he had perfectly normal handlebar moustaches. the guys behind said something like "zed zed." it was a familiar sort of thing he said but i couldn't quite parse it. he said it again,

"zed zed top know how to rock."

that may be the awrsomest thing i've heard in a while.

-------

after bartlebee went home, black belt si and i continued to drink beer. this may have been a mistake. waiting for the tram that was never going to come we got into an argument. he's been talking to me about this thing called "tapping," which is vaguely like DIY-acupressure. i'd tried it out even though i'm a natural skeptic and did feel some benefit. at the time we'd been tapping to cure me of acrophobia. it didn't really take.

so we got into this argument of the sort that's only possible when both parties are slightly too sauced. i think it lasted an hour. in the end, though, we somehow unearthed some important stuff. i had a traumatic experience as a college student that's grown into a dreadlock. i've been unable to get the comb through it for a long time. i'd tell you about it but it involves cream cheese and rabbits and it's sort of embarrassing.

what i said there on lygon street at three in the morning was that i thought tapping was a way to key into your self-awareness. and like any ritual, it's not the ritual itself that's important but what the ritual allows you to do. and that i didn't think i could benefit from such rituals until i'd untangled that dreadlock. si heard that. and even drunk and tired it was good for me to cough it up like a gruesome hairball. to look at it now that i'm thirty-four and a vastly different person then when it first grew.

i'm looking at this hairball now that i clearly don't need and i'm watching it slowly piss off under my antagonistic stare. i've made progress on it before so i'm not going to celebrate too soon, but i did sleep soundly last night and i feel generally more whole.

i'm attempting to give up the need to always be in control (not of you, of me) so that's what's going on if i act unexpectedly. or if i start tapping on my head while we're talking.

si had to walk home as the trams sure don't run at 3:00. i expect he got home at quarter to four and had a day to recover before he earned his black belt in akido by squaring off with a pair of tigers armed with tridents. that's pretty rockin'.

-------

tonight we went to cancelled movies. we bought tickets to see an outdoor screening of The House of Flying Daggers but as we were on our way it started to rain. so they cancelled it and instead we got to walk around the park in the rain. when we left our house the ugly Abruzzi Club sign said it was 38 degrees. by the time we'd turned around and come home it was 24.

we still have left over mexican food.

i just thought these were awesome.

i invite you to marvel at the joi de vivre exhibited by my friends wanko and lohly in these very slowly moving pictures:

we just watched A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints.

i'd heard about it when it was playing and missed my opportunity to see it in the theatres. kicking myself because the writer/director dito montiel was actually in melbourne speaking at the Nova for a special screening. we were busy moving, though.

here's some of the best praise i can give a film:

at no time during the movie did i notice the actors.

all of them. the famous ones, like dianne wiest or robert downey jr., and the unknown ones like channing tatum. even though most of them were teenagers. all of them were so real that i never thought about them as actors.

and the way the film was shot; so rough and messy -- it just felt like you were there, alive then, involved.

it's not a pretty story. but i liked it. maybe you can tell.

and after watching a passel of films with crazy ideas and involved plots, all so cool and so avant guard, this is the one i've got nothing but good things to say about.

because i believed it. it's ugly and sloppy and real.

i think you should watch it.

what do my little eyes see? could it be? yes. more movies coming.

OCEANS 13
i'm a sucker for soderbergh. it's his fault i like george clooney (have you seen Out of Sight?). sure, Oceans 12 was pretty crap and Oceans 11 was way too generic-heisty and Don Cheadle's pommy accent a disaster but... this is our generations Rat Pack and i've got money to support honest shots at class. maybe this time...

PRIDE
sigh. this looks fine. i've just seen this movie a million time already. can the underdog (whomever) overcome the challenge of (whatever) to win the (who fucking cares?). yes. of course. just once i want to watch one of these movies where the disadvantaged team of colourful youths faces off against the overprivileged jerks only to lose so powerfully that they are fed to rabid weasels. 'cause that's what happens. aren't these movies actually just anti-affirmative action propaganda? nice poster though.

TRADE
while i can't imagine wanting to watch this film, the short looks well done; it's affecting. sexual slavery is quiet compared to so many other problems but it is seriously fucked up. i like that the leads are young.

MR. BROOKS
*shudder* this is the kind of film that makes me want to shoot fire from my butt. i predict this will be a film in which every single character is constructed around a wholly unbelievable nugget of super powered stupidity so intense it could make tubs of lard appear suave. if you pay to see this i may have to kill you.

i drove myself to the doctoratorium today.

it was the first time i took the car out on my own.

my first solo-flight in our grey shitbucket, the one with four doors and two working windows. the first time i drove on the left in a manual transmission auto with a choke sans the buoyant support of my wife.

i didn't hit nothing. although i did just squeak through one major intersection in first gear because i forgot to shift.

ha ha.

parking is the hardest. no matter how hard i try, looking over my left shoulder to see out the back seems wrong and generally of the devil.

but i'm driving now. so i can go places. and stuff.

also, if you haven't lately, you should listen to quadrophenia. it came into my head and i tracked down a copy and man, is that stuff good. they just don't make the rock music like that any more.

too bad keith moon had to go and die.

i woulda liked to see the who play back in the day.

near my house there's a billboard.

it says, in giant block letters:

HAVE SEX LONGER

then, underneath, in smaller letters it says:

nasal delivery system

i am left with many questions and some unpleasant snuffly imagery.

you can chalk me up in the "no sale" column.

----

my sister-in-law has pancreatitis. she's in the hospital now. lucky she is, too, 'cause we found out it has a 60% mortality rate. she should be okay since they caught it in time. if by okay you mean unable to eat for two weeks and on some serious pain killers.

we went to visit her on sunday. she is not happy. her poor husband looks like he's been sleeping under a rug in the parking lot for six days.

in australia, they have public health but if you're in the hospital they CHARGE you to watch television. $7.50 a day.

that may be the stupidest thing i have ever heard and -- i don't want to brag or anything -- i've heard some pretty stupid things. television is free pain killer/nursing. why in hell would you want to deny patients something that is A) free and B) going to make your staff's life easier?

----

we're making mexican food this weekend. if anyone has a good recipe for black beans, guacamole, fresh salsa, or fajita-style chicken please send it along.

yesterday, me and the missus drove to flinders for a lab picnic.

it's kinda funny, because we thought flinders was about a forty-five minute drive away. it took us two and a half hours.

ha ha ha.

flinders is on the coast, which is pretty far i guess. melbourne is actually on a giant bay, so you gotta drive far to get to the open ocean. although this bit of the open ocean is blocked by phillip island so, uh, yeah. we drove there. most of the lab people were diving when we arrived (two hours late) so we were worried that we'd driven for 2.5 hours only to miss the party.

then they emerged from the deep like giant suckfish.

i'm not sure there is actually a thing called a suckfish, but there should be.

the real excitement happened a bit later, after we ate snags, which are actually sausages. that's when i played my very first bit of cricket.

i know! you're all saying, "cricket? why that's the most exciting game in the universe! it's like skeet-shooting basketball on rollerblades!"

true. so true.

i'll tell you what. pitching overhand, which they call "bowling" (do not try it this way at your local bowling alley), is tricky to get the hang of.

if you're american, you've likely never thrown a ball this way. go outside now and try it with a hefty rock. swing your arm up over your head backwards without bending your elbow and try to hit a pram or something. it's hard! i managed to eventually combine speed with accuracy to throw like a spastic baboon; so i fit right in. today my shoulder hurts.

this particular photo is of christian, one of bartlebee's labmates who organised the barbie. you can see her in the background fielding with impressive lackluster. the guy in the foreground in the tintin t-shirt is steve, her advisor. he's also american and we were equally sucky at cricket.

i also tried batting. i was better at batting as i've played golf with angry woodchucks and a two-by-four and cricket is much the same.

this is joel batting. he also just started in steve's lab. it's his cricket set and he was a tiny bit better than me, but that might also be because no matter how hard i tried i always instinctively ran towards first base. there is no first base in cricket. when you get a hit, you rush the mound while holding onto your bat. so i'm not sure why the bowler wouldn't try to hit you since you're going to charge him with a hefty piece of wood regardless.

in the photo, that's taylor behind joel heckling by saying things i had to think about before they made any sense. like, 'you swing like a dunny door!' which i heard as 'you swing Adenny Dour' and assumed Adenny Dour was some famous cricketer i had never heard of. then i got it. hah! those wacky australians! i need to introduce them to my brother. he knows from heckling.

anyway, i knocked a few bowls pretty far which made up for the fact that my hands are oddly reflective when it comes to catching. and lo, i had the fun.

here's a group shot of everyone:

from left to right only to prove that i can remember the names: steve, joel, vanessa, dean, christian, taylor, bartlebee, jody and in front, malcolm.

hey! that's a lot of names! i must be a cricket star.

after many a long long year of greeting xzackly.com viewers, my edit of edward gorey's gashlycrumb tinies "z is for zila" image is gone.

wait. no it isn't! here it is one last time:

but alas, that's it. the last remnant of the original xzackly site has been deleted. this time because i decided the main page needed to make me some frickin' money.

i made some business cards, put the web address on them, and am in process of posting some work-soliciting foo-dee-foo at xzackly.com. you can check it out if your interested. the look is from the cards that matt designed for me.

i like the style. it reminds me of something my grandfather would have done. sort of 40's panache, i hope.

also on the agenda is finally getting around to buying troublonia.com so i can keep this blog somewhat separate from the work-world. not that i'm deluded into thinking it's hidden at all, just hey, whatever. nine bucks at go daddy. why not?

then, i think, i can have a different favicon for both sites and not corrupt my work site with the little troublonia-nuclear hazard icon above. all these things i will figure out slowly and with much error and trials.

i don't actually have any government cheese. i'm sorry for lying to you.