After writing no less than 4,000 words in the past week for closing out uni coursework for the year (and by extension – this graduate diploma – testify!) you would think that I have had just about enough of writing for the week. But no, here I am throwing more words at an unsuspecting audience. Not that unsuspecting, because you would have knowingly clicked on a link or typed the address into your browser.
POW! Magic capsicum pants! This is a picture of a tree!
See, you weren’t expecting that. In case you couldn’t tell, I’m quite fatigued. So fatigued that as I was driving home from uni this afternoon, I was making up rap songs about the drivers around me… Sadly, the hits “You Got a Busted Mudflap”, “Use Yo Indicator, Fool” and “Dump Truck Crunk” will probably never see the light of day. The illustrious rap career of P-Daggy shall have to carry on muted for now. Le sigh.
Part of the problem with those 4,000 words was that they were study-related. If I was creating 4,000 words for the sake of it, it’d be something to enjoy and potentially bake a cake to commemorate the occasion. But as soon as it becomes words that are not really my own and require proof of referencing inane scholarly journal #87,926 because I’m clearly not capable of independent thought, I could give a carrot’s top about creating words for an arbitrary number.
Except when you get a mark that equates to 95%. Then you may do the ‘raise the roof’ dance. And now that the premium formerly known as sleep can return to regular knowing that all that is left is four exams to write gives me happyface.
While on the topic of writing, allow me to contain my overzealous surprise at Robert Doyle making a royal dick of himself over the weekend in reference to his article about the Occupy Melbourne and Victoria Police fracas that occurred last Friday. I’mma leave all the politics aside for a moment because I could write for days on that whole thing. Regardless of which side you sit on – read THIS article.
Nothing more than rigmarole that glosses over the issue and uses petty references to media that couldn’t favour the right more if it were driving a car, sitting at an intersection with its right indicator on, sitting underneath a ‘Keep Right’ sign and the driver has amputated their left arm and leg. You could just about sum up the entirety of what he says with the word ‘harumph’. The only rabble is the drivel you believe constitutes writing, you loquacious git.
I seriously hope anyone with a conscience votes this waffling pile of claptrap out of office at the next mayoral election.
Does anyone else find it quite curious that an 11-month stalemate regarding wages for police officers in Victoria is resolved three days after the intervention related to the Occupy Melbourne movement? Quite curious, indeed.
It proves that you can mistreat a dog as often as you like, but give it a biscuit and a pat on the head and it’ll gladly do your bidding.
Switching topics now.
This documentary about real-life superheroes that currently exist around the US and Canada was very interesting viewing. I’m not going to go into great detail about this, but the documentary is worth watching. The two acts of the film is spent introducing the characters and giving you a snapshot of their lives, showcasing their will and determination. But the tone of the narrative in the first two acts by no means paints them in a positive light. I felt pity more than anything for these people. And then the final act does a 180 and shows you the lengths these people are trying to leave a positive stamp on this world. Check it out.
Considering that I had some spare time earlier today, I decided to go and get a haircut. My hair was getting to an unmanageable, scruffy state that I haven’t actually had time to set aside to sort out lately.
My Italian barber has cut my hair for most of my natural life. He’s a childhood friend of my father. His barbershop has all the classic characteristics – chequerboard floor, older Italian guys sitting around who don’t even need haircuts, crimson red barber chairs and photo clippings from fashion magazines from the ’80s.
Tie it all in with Magic 1278 churning out the likes of Roy Orbison’s ‘Only the Lonely’, Dion & The Belmonts ‘Runaround Sue’ and Henry Mancini’s ‘Love Theme from Romeo and Juliet’ (If you don’t know it, I highly recommend it) and I’m sitting there thinking, “OK, someone is going to whacked any minute now.”
I couldn’t help it. My mind just went to set up for a gangster film. Sitting there writing for the better part of an hour, though, was probably the best silent time I’ve had to myself in a while.
But listening to Magic 1278 made me realise how much music I listen to that is well before my time. It’s not any type of effort on my part to try and make myself cooler or give myself an edge at trivia nights, in case you were wondering. I routinely listen to Gold 104.3 and Classic Hits 91.5 in my car because, well, most (not all, by the way, there are some amazing talents out there in the music biz) of today’s music just sounds like cluttered nonsense.
This does not mean, however, that I am free from guilty pleasures. In two different instances last week, status updates on my book of Face became a game of one-upmanship (why can’t it be one-upwomanship, or one-upthemship?). The rules? Simple. Set your era and genre and get YouTubing. Post and enjoy.
More road trip planning is underway now that I can focus on it again, but I’ve encountered a bit of a problem. The drive from Brisbane to Cairns is approximately the same length as the drive from Melbourne to Brisbane and I don’t want to add another two days dedicated solely to time spent driving. Time to put my problem solving cap on yet again.
And now, in an effort to de-screen myself a bit, I’m going to go and relax after completing coursework for the year and give my eyes a break from the ambient glow of my laptop screen.