….

Gusts of loneliness flit across the barren plain of his soul
Locked in the dying twilight of a lovers loss
A pitiful figure, he sits hunched in the swirling mists
The feeble light revealing his gaunt form
In this empty land, to live is to seek out the warmth
But the spark to such a flame, can only be fueled by hate

Gone Fishin’

Well, that’s it for this year (pick your jaw off the floor). We’re closing for the Christmas holidays and on through to the new year. I’m actually looking forward to not blogging because I can use this time to put my thoughts together and come up with some of the stuff I’ll be posting next year. That’s kind of a relief since I’m sort of coming to the conclusion I’m a sprint blogger rather than an endurance one. If I were to think of what animal best describes my style it would probably be a leopard or a cheetah (I can see you rolling your eyes over there). I prefer writing in short bursts that tend to sneak up on me which is somewhat the opposite of my reading habits. I can continuously rip through a book for days on end if I find it interesting enough.

Anyhoo, merry Christmas and a joyous new year to you all.

I’ll probably be sneaking in a post now & then after all, leopards don’t hibernate.

In my ear: Stereophonics – Maybe Tomorrow
Off my shelf: Michael Ondaatje – The English Patient
Midday Matinee: After the sunset (2004)
Starring: Pierce Brosnan, Salma Hayek, Woody Harrelson
Directed by: Brett Ratner

I’m getting a Vasectomy

It is with a heavy heart that I have decided to say a symbolic goodbye to Penelope. I’m going to admit something that not many men have the courage to; yesterday I drove like a complete knob.

I’ve always loved going fast, whether it was getting whirled around by my dad at 3 or watching the trees flit by along the runway as an aircraft takes off. I grin like an idiot every time I experience even the illusion of speed but lately I fear I’m getting addicted to speed, which is not in itself a bad thing if it weren’t for the fact I’ve been indulging my cravings in the absolutely wrong place: The open road. Risking life and limb not only my own (which probably nobody cares about) but everybody else’s out there is not just irresponsible on my part but certifiably insane.

I am really sorry.

Maybe it’s not really the speed I like but the adrenalin rush that comes from tearing around the highway, zipping in and out of traffic, downshifting then flooring it out of a corner or from behind a slow moving vehicle all the time only peripherally aware of pedestrians, cyclists and the occasional donkey cart that may be using the road at the same time. I looked up my behaviour on the internet and this is what I found.

Earlier I’d said Penelope is capable of blasting her way from 0-60 in a little more than 5 seconds but I have since come to the realisation she could deliver me to the afterlife just as fast. So, I’m going get a more sedate car for everyday use and probably restrict penny to where she belongs: On a racetrack where I get to wear a helmet and 4-point safety harness, plenty of ambulances and fire engines on standby and a bunch of drivers probably dumber than me.

Avg. Speed this morning: 50 mph
No hooting, no insane overtaking, indicators used as necessary and yes, both hands on the steering wheel when not changing gear. I hope Jeremy Clarkson will be proud of me.

In my ear: Jamairoquai – Virtual Insanity (ironic, isn’t it?)
Off my shelf: V.S Naipaul – The Mystic Masseur
Midday Matinée – The Big Heist (2001)
Starring: Donald Sutherland
Directed by: Robert Markowitz

Trackday Tarts

Well the Formula 1 season came to a close even before I started this blog but boy was it a cracker! The cars were hot and the drivers hotter (with the exception of the passive-aggressive, crybaby-bully Fernando Alonso).

Still, here’s a sampling of the fillies from last season that next seasons’ stable have to beat.

Vodafone Mclaren Mercedes

AT&T Williams

BAR Honda

BMW Sauber

ING Renault: Arguablythe best-looking car of the 2007 season

Panasonic Toyota

Honda Racing Team

Marlboro Ferrari

Super Aguri Honda

Spyker Ferrari

Unclean! Unclean!

I have been blackballed.

Please enter the URL of your blog:

http://gainsaid.wordpress.com

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

• death (2x)
• drugs (1x)

Very Gothic, I like it.

The Brown Envelope Brigade

Being unemployed is a difficult thing especially if you’re young. Mind you, older people could have it worse – all those bills, ugh. A job’s like an anchor that keeps one from plunging down the rapids to povertysville. It is the just(?) reward for the countless afternoons spent learning stuff you hated just to get a job you don’t like so that you can afford stuff you won’t need (hmmm, deja vu). Get yourself one and be instantly nay, magically transformed from a grungy, slacker student into a hardworking, deserving, productive member of society – Clark Kent eat your heart out and your telephone booths be damned.

 

The contemporary jobseeker is enveloped in a sort of mindless desperation, making applications for any and every vacancy we see no matter how ill-qualified we are for the position. Jealously, we hoard every snippet of information, every whiff of a rumour, every scrap of hope. Eyes hollow and hungry like an addicts’, overdosed on expectation shift suspiciously about sizing up the competition trying to if they know more than we do…or more…or less.

 

It’s all very dehumanizing.

 

Finally a job! A good one for starters. It has come after what seemed like an interminable wait. a flicker of interest, a surge of hope. sweaty fingers clutching at a pen that cannot scrawl across the dotted line fast enough. And just like that, dreams are shoved aside in a rush of ugly reality. Practicality comes bearing compromise, a sort of………..giving up but we are too busy to notice. We writhe in the orgasm of acceptance.

 

Afterwards, unable to bear the brutal prodding of one’s own conscience we begin to wonder just what it is we have gotten ourselves into. We begin to hate getting up in the mornings. The novelty of being gainfully employed has faded. The shiny newness of our jobs rusts away to drab, grubby, drudgery. The bright gleam of a better job elsewhere beckons, irritating the soul.

 

It’s off to the pub, the club, the mall, the bazaar for retail therapy. Buying something, anything to convince others and ourselves that we are worth a damn. To reflect our status as rising, young stars; parvenus of the post-modern age. No, we daren’t quit our unsatisfactory jobs, the paycheck is still punctual and after all, who is ready to take that leap into the great unknown risking status and comfort and security in pursuit of an old dream?
“I remember what it is like to be broke, desperate and unemployed. I must remind myself that there are many who would gladly kill for what I have and so dear friends, when tomorrow comes I shall step once more, into the breach”.