Hey Canadians!


Have you voted yet?

Its 3:30AM and i'm wired on pure possiblity. Tonight's one of those Schrodinger's Cat nights, like Christmas Eve (when the possiblity that you're going to get everything you asked for is the same as the possibility that you are going to get nothing good). This morning I had an interview at SBS for an entry level position (a friend recomended me to them). If I get it, i've got something close to finiancial independence (though I don't really want it), something close to a fulfilling job (they showed Oz tonight, and it was good) and the very real possiblity of going somewhere.

If I don't, I'll ask that girl I've got a crush on if she can put in a good word to her superiors at KFC for me.

I hear about it tommorow and part of what makes life so unbearable in a city like this is that every day is multiple minute moments of possiblity, 'something good' vs 'something false'.

Yesterday I stood next to a cute punkish girl at Darling Harbour and watched as a man juggled fire, knives, and axes. Waiting for it to end so I could compliment her on the Lovecraft in her (clear) backpack made me forget any danger I was in, and i watched as the seconds ticked down.

Preliminary approaches were positive. No, she wasn't creeped out (she said). Yes, she was my age (she said). We chatted about politics and music and our crappy jobs. The conversation was going well, and another counter ticked down. I didn't know how long I had until she left, but I needed to get info before then, something to fix this in the future, make it a beggining instead of an incident.

'Hey... I was thinking maybe I could give you a call sometime, maybe go to a show together?'

'Sorry. I like you, but...'

'I understand.'

(I didn't, beyond the basic 'Would I give my number out to a guy i'd been talking to for 10 minutes? Probably not', but i wasn't thinking clearly enough to ask for her e-mail address, which may have been safer. Sydney is a small city, and as we talked we had walked into the area of the Bloomsday celebration, where I neglected to ride possiblity to its fullest and didn't even get the girl's number. That girl had a similar name and a similar background; I live life on the assumption that there is an Author and he likes these little recurrences.

I went home and played Soul Blazer for 5 hours. Five hours again today. Its the perfect game-- not too hard, not too easy, with every monster generator destroyed forming a switch, with their own delicious chances-- a change in the immediate dungeon? A new house added to the overworld? A new sword? Its very determined, very planned, and rather easy. I will beat it; it does what I need to do. Life is like that, I think. I have seen much moaning and whining on this site; that girl yesterday is nice, and she will be part of the fabric of the city; i will look for her at Death Disco and other alternative/indie/hardcore themed events I may attend. But that is all... I don't hold with so much of the wistfulness here. It has its purpose, but sometimes you need to live.

I could go on in circles for days, adding nothing to the database. Tommorow I may have a job; tommorow I may not; tommorow i may bump into someone on the street and I will have both a job and a girl; tommorow the world may end. I love living in a city.

(Its 5:41 am. I've been up all night like i'm at a job; i can't even explain why I do this. Its an addiction; its the knowledge that, job or no job, i've got no plans until Wedensday night's D&D game; its the horrible thought that when i do sleep i'll sleep until 4pm tommorw and the day will be gone, without even the enjoyment of watching the sun rise; its the reason there's nothing good written here. I've spent 10 hours or more in front of this today; the radiation is keeping me alive.

If my sporadic typing job calls me tommorow, i'll be dead in my mind and some market researcher won't get the data they need and another product will fail and i'll be broke some more.

On Sunday, after not getting that girl's phone number, I went to the bus stop and saw a girl from uni. Quiet, cute, so quiet I knew nothing about her though I saw her everywhere. She said she worked as a telemarketer; my bus came and I got on it. My life is guided by an author, point and counterpoint, every character a coresspondence. Paralelles and small epiphanies; exactly how I like my stories.

What’s the best way to express something? You could just write about it. Or you could craft an epic poem. You could sing your thoughts to others. But what about when the subject is pretty mundane – Geeky even?

See, I had soup for lunch. Minestrone. It was chockablock with macaroni noodles. It was OK. But the coolest thing happened while I ate. I can’t sing about it, since I’m awful and you’re on E2. If I wanted to express this geeky experience in poetry, what form should I use? What’s better, the Triolet, the Ballad or a Terza Rima?

Triolet:

I found a siphon in my soup,
and dodged to avoid the spills.
The broth did drain without my scoop.
I found a siphon in my soup.
The macaroni makes a loop.
Pressure drops and bowl refills.
I found a siphon in my soup,
and dodged to avoid the spills.

Ballad:

While I was slurping down my soup
I found a small surprise
The minestrone macaroni
Spilled broth before my eyes

One end of the noodle in the spoon
And one end hanging out
Pressure below and pressure above
And pasta like a spout

The broth pours down from spoon to bowl
I don’t want it on my shirt
At least the soup is not so hot
A spill would really hurt

Terza Rima:

On lunch as I sat -- reading the catbox,
while sipping minestrone from a spoon,
a strange phenomenon curled my socks.

I watched as it drained, but gone far too soon,
a siphon established there in my food.
Seeing the clock -- it was now just past noon.

With plenty of time to test if I’m shrewd,
I dipped the spoon in the soup once again.
The noodle spews broth -- a scene that’s quite lewd!

The pasta on broth acts just like a drain,
transferring content from soup-spoon to bowl.
Coworker to me: “you may be insane.”

Just eating the soup shows real self-control.
Pretending disinterest takes quite a toll.

I guess I’m voting for the ballad.

I have stopped by at this wonderful website to share with you some thoughts I was having today on a number of subjects. The first of these subjects I will bring to mind is stain causing foods and also the people who wear inappropriate clothing for eating of stain causing foods especially at a picnic or the like. If one is wearing white sailor style pants and eating a slice of blueberry pie on a picnic bench with rough housing going on all around you then you are asking for trouble to present itself. Often people will wear older blue jeans they are comfortable in and also wouldn't mind throwing away if unsightly stains were to place themselves on the garment. Also, there are many new types of cleaners I have not tried to use when cleaning stains I make myself on clothes that I either bought for myself or were given to me as holiday gifts. I do celebrate Christmas.

It is not difficult to consider when wearing white slacks or a fairly high priced light colored summer shirt that one might want to take the apple pie instead of the blueberry pie, regardless of personal preference. The apple will not stain as intensely as apple is not what we call one of the "trouble fruits" in the modern vernacular. Also, be sure to hold coffee cups with both hands as coffee stains can be difficult, especially on light colored fabrics and white slacks.

Also, it came to my attention the other day that there are some people in this country who live in a cardboard box or something even less appropriate for clean country living. At the same time I saw a man with a grimace on his face driving an Acura that is probably more expensive than a Toyota. I was not sure why he had a grimace on his face since he had an Acura, because the man I saw living in a cardboard box that once housed a Whirlpool brand refrigerator was smiling. I bought the man who lived in the cardboard box some Chicken McNuggets I purchased at a fast food store. I did taste one of them first to see if they were better now that my old friend Ronald McDonald is finally using all white meat in the McNuggets. They were a bit better than they had been when they made them with chicken necks and cartiledge, but still did not provide me with the taste explosion I had expected. I was not brokenhearted when I gave the remaining count of five McNuggets was given to the man who lives in the cardboard box. If you don't care for your dinner, give what is left to the man who lives in the cardboard box. Remember that his box gets soggy when it rains and you have windshield wipers in your Acura. From what I hear around the water cooler, if you have an Acura you can probably spare a buck or two.

A friend of mine is pregnant and she isn't married. I'm not sure what to make of it because she is a lesbian. A man must have become involved at some point in the recent history of her lesbianism. I am under the impression that two women cannot get each other pregnant by rubbing their private areas together. I have heard of this female ejaculation that is more popular than Baywatch now, but I do not believe this can cause a woman to get pregnant. I am thinking about asking my friend if this is not true. If it is true I imagine than men will become extinct and be replaced by a self-impregnating female population. This will also hurt my ability to date, as I usually take a lady out for a dinner of smoked mackerel and a good cognac. She may be less interested in me than she would be in one of these female ejaculators who will satisfy the entire female race once the men are duly eliminated. Such a group of women with ejaculating leaders would probably launch a mission to planets like Neptune and Pluto within a decade because of their fear of menopause.

I was trying to repair relations with my best friend Dale. Some time ago we had a falling out because I kissed his wife passionately and groped at her loins while he was getting a fresh bottle of red wine from the basement. She came onto me first, but she later told him that I forced myself on her. I did put my hand high on her thigh without invitation, but she was pushing her tongue into my mouth, something I know Dale is not into because he is very straight-laced as an individual. I was under the impression that once a woman puts her tongue in your mouth, you may start reaching high on the thigh, but not into the sensitive areas until she touches you in the same way first. These are the rules as I learned them from older kids when I was fifteen. They would also buy alcohol for us if we were willing to pay an inflated price, something like a tariff that may have been proposed by President Lyndon Baines Johnson. They always made fun of me because I would request a bottle of cognac. I would often take a brandy snifter to the ball yard and drink cognac from it while the other kids played baseball and the like. On the topic of baseball, let me say that I think Ted Williams is the greatest of all times and I am not upset that he is dead. If he remains frozen as he was at some point, he can be revived when we have a profitable old man baseball league. It would be quite a coup for the team that manages to sign Ted Williams, likely in 2088. That would be my guess for that particular event.

So, while I was trying to repair relations with my best friend Dale, a plumber came by to check something. Apparently Dale and his wife are having trouble with the pipes in their house, possibly from Dale's cheap approach to preventative maintenance. He always waits until the last minute, while yours truly, Berhardt Goates, is prepared ahead of time. I will often put a plumber or electrician through a twenty-one point process of being certain they have double checked all elements of their respective repair area. I cannot stand it when I have an electrician come by for preventative maintenance that he does not remove electrical sockets and re-pack the fittings. Electrical fittings must be re-packed every six months and re-primed every twelve months. It is just common sense.

Finally, Dale asked if he could punch me in the mouth, and I declined to agree with him. My face may not be pretty, but it is the part of me that ladies first take a fancy to, and I won't have it swollen or damaged during prime summer fox hunting season. I told him that in church we learned to forgive and to love, and so he hugged me and we went back to the living room. His wife had already changed into her nightgown and it was very revealing. I found myself visible aroused and tried to change the topic as she crossed and re-crossed her legs suggestively while eating vienna sausages. I continue to eat herring party snacks at a rapid rate in order to subdue my need for sexual congress with a lady. It was not completely effective, and so I got on my knees in front of Dale's wife and begged her to let me sleep with her. She declined to agree to do so and then Dale made me leave and he had an angry look on his face.

There is a film coming out that I am really hoping to go and see with another man. It is a film about what looks to be two baby leopards and a little boy who adopts them and takes care of him. He apparently has a hunter father or guardian who is also softened by the little leopard babies and stops hunting and becomes heroic in nature. This is definitely a film for two grown men to go see together.

The other trend I have noticed in the movie theatres is a complete lack of films by Joe Piscopo lately. I used to enjoy his films and now it seems no one is interested in showing them. I have been looking at things on the internet like this eBay site where maybe they have some of Joe Piscopo's shrugged off movies on the past decade or so. At this time, no hits, as people are reluctant to part with these films. They are great to watch when you are feeling nervous home alone.

Well, I can't share any more right now, as I am on medication and looking at a radioactive light such as the computer offers is not good for your eyes except in moderation or as required by your employment. Some people also work from home, which often requires intensive absorbsion of extremely dangerous rays. You should wear sunglasses and a heavy sunblock on the face, chest and shoulders, especially if you use the computer while not wearing a shirt of something open to the navel. I would not be surprised if this radioactivity caused breasts to enlarge, as many of the women who work with computers are very, very large chested. It may be the rays in case some of you were curious as to why this is the case.

Thank you.

My hopes and dreams - indeed my very life - has come crashing to an end.

She is getting married.

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