Ten Ways to Avoid Lending Your Wheelbarrow to Anybody - Adrian Mitchell
1 PATRIOTIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I didn't lay down my life in World War II
so that you could borrow my wheelbarrow.
2 SNOBBISH
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Unfortunately Lord Goodman is using it.
3 OVERWEENING
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is too mighty a conveyance to be wielded
by any mortal save myself.
4 PIOUS
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
My wheelbarrow is reserved for religious ceremonies.
5 MELODRAMATIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I would sooner be broken on its wheel
and buried in its barrow.
6 PATHETIC
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
I am dying of schizophrenia
and all you can talk about is wheelbarrows.
7 DEFENSIVE
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Do you think I'm made of wheelbarrows?
8 SINISTER
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
It is full of blood.
9 LECHEROUS
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
Only if I can fuck your wife in it.
10 PHILOSOPHICAL
May I borrow your wheelbarrow?
What is a wheelbarrow?
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
devondale alley
this one goes out to all the non-readers.
[you know I only mention non-readers in the vain hope that I actually have readers who will get offended by me calling them non-readers. and then comment. to let me know they are real. you guys suck]
[no! I don't mean that at all! I love you!]
Yesterday I bought a skirt and some massive ghetto hoop earrings from Sportsgirl. Sportsgirl is my fave chain store by far, but I never buy things from there unless they're on sale. So these items cost me a total of $45. I made awkward complimentary conversation with the shopgirl about her awesome fringe and me and my housemate tried on tiny hat fascinators to amuse ourselves.
After a brief drink with work people across the road at the Order - we sat upstairs because it was sunny, but the Order rooftop was poorly positioned that afternoon and it was bloody freezing - I came home and decided I wanted to wear my new things and put on makeup to amuse myself. I want to learn how to put on eyeliner properly. It's one of those things that you think would/should be easy, but if you want it to look good then you really should trial it out a few times. Anyway then my housemate and her boyfriend arrived home and I was unamused by their presence and the prospect of having them talk all the way through Love Actually so when Zoe asked me out I leaped at the opportunity to leave the house. Neither of us had any idea what to do though so we both put ideas onto tiny little bits of paper "bigger than confetti, smaller than a banner". I shoved scissors and looseleaf paper into my bag and did this on the train.
Waiting for Zoe. Watching skanks at Flinders street. Why do they think it's ok to wear the things they do? I can't even sum up the atrocities I saw there. Vile.
Devoid of any hat or similar recepticles to place the pieces of paper into and hence draw out and select an idea, Zoe put all the pieces of paper into her pocket and she drew one out that I had written that suggested we go to places we've never been to before and have always wanted to go to. But I said that we shouldn't do anything we really didn't want to do. We ended up going to Old Bar to see this band called the Butcher Birds. We didn't catch all of their set so we heard from one of the guitarists that they were playing a set at Pony later on that evening we decided to get grotty and head there (after a brief stop at the watering hole pleasantly known as McDonalds).
We saw the band again. Zoe saw people she knows. People she didn't want to see. We went outside to the alley across from Pony and made friends with a tall boy with a moustache, a lipring and a furred-leather that read Canadian Club (Wiliam) and this cute little boy from Wellington (Jeremy). We all spoke about milk and sunglasses and Bono and I smiled at the Wellington boy and he smiled back at me and blushed like a child. I asked the wider group if you could possibly use the gum wrappers from extra to roll cigarettes with and then Zoe made a clever joke about needing the gum from regular papers. We headed back inside briefly then came back outside to our friends who had been joined by this lad in a stripey jumper and this tall, thin fellow with a hat who looked like a beautiful indie boy but when he spoke sounded like he came from a farm near Geelong.
The five of us had a session. I loaned Jeremy my scissors to cut the weed and he asked me if I always carried scissors and paper around and then I said paper mostly and that we'd been making notes earlier in the evening. It began to rain and we sought refuge near some ventilation bits of a building. Hat-indie-boy sat on a bin, while William rescued a milkcrate from inside this cage of air conditioners and stood on it like a soapbox. He was so outrageous and just announced the strangest things. I liked his openness and how he was just so inclusive and welcoming. But I have a strange feeling like if we had needed him in a crisis he would run away and flake. Zoe and stripey jumper boy, later named Vaguey Vaguerson, were drawing on the walls of this place with my pens while I stood with Jeremy, William and Hat-indie-boy. Some other people walked into the shelter and Jeremy goes to me "were those people with us the whole time? I don't really know what's going on now. I'm so stoned".
Zoe and I went back inside at some point due to coldness and we were accosted upstairs by a guy who looked like Ozzy & Snape & Morticia & Iggy & Noel Fielding. Not enough like Noel unfortunately. He had a nose piercing as well, but I didn't trust him. We were kind to him and were friendly. So then he found us downstairs later and asked us to mind his drink while he went outside for a smoke. But he took ages and we wanted to see if our alley friends were still there. They weren't. But Spooky Spookerson was out there and he got shitty with us because we left his drink unattended. He ran back inside. We dodged a bullet.
The rest of the morning was spent writing those stories that you write a few lines of, fold over and give it to the next person. It's like a joint, but with words. We also watched stripey jumper guy from before macking on with some babe. It was intense. We wrote a story with this guy with a massive fro and a massive voice.
Story time was over by 6am and we got our respective trams home, stomachs rumbling from Pony-exertion.
---
Just before, I was thinking about whether it is worthwhile posting entries about nights out. Whether I should offer opinions rather than anecdotes. Because maybe nobody cares and nothing I say is worthwhile (this is quite possible). It's too late now I guess. Also, these people who I met once and will never meet again - people who would never remember me anyway - what would they think about having a blog post essentially written about them? They will never read it. Has this happened to me before? I guess that's the majesty of blogging. There's the romance. And I just fucked it up for ya'll.
[you know I only mention non-readers in the vain hope that I actually have readers who will get offended by me calling them non-readers. and then comment. to let me know they are real. you guys suck]
[no! I don't mean that at all! I love you!]
Yesterday I bought a skirt and some massive ghetto hoop earrings from Sportsgirl. Sportsgirl is my fave chain store by far, but I never buy things from there unless they're on sale. So these items cost me a total of $45. I made awkward complimentary conversation with the shopgirl about her awesome fringe and me and my housemate tried on tiny hat fascinators to amuse ourselves.
After a brief drink with work people across the road at the Order - we sat upstairs because it was sunny, but the Order rooftop was poorly positioned that afternoon and it was bloody freezing - I came home and decided I wanted to wear my new things and put on makeup to amuse myself. I want to learn how to put on eyeliner properly. It's one of those things that you think would/should be easy, but if you want it to look good then you really should trial it out a few times. Anyway then my housemate and her boyfriend arrived home and I was unamused by their presence and the prospect of having them talk all the way through Love Actually so when Zoe asked me out I leaped at the opportunity to leave the house. Neither of us had any idea what to do though so we both put ideas onto tiny little bits of paper "bigger than confetti, smaller than a banner". I shoved scissors and looseleaf paper into my bag and did this on the train.
Waiting for Zoe. Watching skanks at Flinders street. Why do they think it's ok to wear the things they do? I can't even sum up the atrocities I saw there. Vile.
Devoid of any hat or similar recepticles to place the pieces of paper into and hence draw out and select an idea, Zoe put all the pieces of paper into her pocket and she drew one out that I had written that suggested we go to places we've never been to before and have always wanted to go to. But I said that we shouldn't do anything we really didn't want to do. We ended up going to Old Bar to see this band called the Butcher Birds. We didn't catch all of their set so we heard from one of the guitarists that they were playing a set at Pony later on that evening we decided to get grotty and head there (after a brief stop at the watering hole pleasantly known as McDonalds).
We saw the band again. Zoe saw people she knows. People she didn't want to see. We went outside to the alley across from Pony and made friends with a tall boy with a moustache, a lipring and a furred-leather that read Canadian Club (Wiliam) and this cute little boy from Wellington (Jeremy). We all spoke about milk and sunglasses and Bono and I smiled at the Wellington boy and he smiled back at me and blushed like a child. I asked the wider group if you could possibly use the gum wrappers from extra to roll cigarettes with and then Zoe made a clever joke about needing the gum from regular papers. We headed back inside briefly then came back outside to our friends who had been joined by this lad in a stripey jumper and this tall, thin fellow with a hat who looked like a beautiful indie boy but when he spoke sounded like he came from a farm near Geelong.
The five of us had a session. I loaned Jeremy my scissors to cut the weed and he asked me if I always carried scissors and paper around and then I said paper mostly and that we'd been making notes earlier in the evening. It began to rain and we sought refuge near some ventilation bits of a building. Hat-indie-boy sat on a bin, while William rescued a milkcrate from inside this cage of air conditioners and stood on it like a soapbox. He was so outrageous and just announced the strangest things. I liked his openness and how he was just so inclusive and welcoming. But I have a strange feeling like if we had needed him in a crisis he would run away and flake. Zoe and stripey jumper boy, later named Vaguey Vaguerson, were drawing on the walls of this place with my pens while I stood with Jeremy, William and Hat-indie-boy. Some other people walked into the shelter and Jeremy goes to me "were those people with us the whole time? I don't really know what's going on now. I'm so stoned".
Zoe and I went back inside at some point due to coldness and we were accosted upstairs by a guy who looked like Ozzy & Snape & Morticia & Iggy & Noel Fielding. Not enough like Noel unfortunately. He had a nose piercing as well, but I didn't trust him. We were kind to him and were friendly. So then he found us downstairs later and asked us to mind his drink while he went outside for a smoke. But he took ages and we wanted to see if our alley friends were still there. They weren't. But Spooky Spookerson was out there and he got shitty with us because we left his drink unattended. He ran back inside. We dodged a bullet.
The rest of the morning was spent writing those stories that you write a few lines of, fold over and give it to the next person. It's like a joint, but with words. We also watched stripey jumper guy from before macking on with some babe. It was intense. We wrote a story with this guy with a massive fro and a massive voice.
Story time was over by 6am and we got our respective trams home, stomachs rumbling from Pony-exertion.
---
Just before, I was thinking about whether it is worthwhile posting entries about nights out. Whether I should offer opinions rather than anecdotes. Because maybe nobody cares and nothing I say is worthwhile (this is quite possible). It's too late now I guess. Also, these people who I met once and will never meet again - people who would never remember me anyway - what would they think about having a blog post essentially written about them? They will never read it. Has this happened to me before? I guess that's the majesty of blogging. There's the romance. And I just fucked it up for ya'll.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
phat disclaimer
(This is the kind of blog entry I write when I pretend that I have readers)
Today I realised that my philosophy classmates have probably been googling transpersonal solipsism (because it's not commonly written about apparently?) and this blog has probably been coming up. It'd be nice if some people actually decided to read the blog for real from this accidental stumbleupon but I doubt it somehow. Anyway it would be really embarrassing if my teacher himself googled it and saw how reverently I regarded that email. I've come through my "philosophical breakdown" now so I don't really feel as mushily about it as I did then but I'll keep it up just for kicks. Plus I really think it's a good bit of philosophical propaganda.
Also today I was walking down Burwood Rd and I realised how much I really like grooving away while I'm walking. I love singing while I walk and I just do it all the time lately. I was returning home from our favourite Indian restaurant on Glenferrie rd, Sahni's. It has $15 buffets on Wednesday evenings. And they taste so good! Tonight there was this eggplant and potato thing and it was utterly fabulous. Usually we eat and eat until we are sickeningly full but tonight we restrained ourselves. By we I mean my sister and my dear wife Jacqueline. And then I wanted to scope out this place where my dear friend/boss/general awesome person is going to be MC-ing a poetry reading. These events are created by Laura Smith who is Melissa's friend and who I hung out with at TiNA. I rather admire Laura because she seems to be part of this really awesome poet crew. And after TiNA I decided that I want to be a bit more into poetry and writing in general. Of course, it's a rather unfortunate time for me to realise this seeing how university happens to be really alarmingly busy at the moment.
Whilst at TiNA, this little story I wrote was totes put into the Voiceworks zine. And that made me feel cool. So I just want to write something fierce lately. You can't stop me. I'm like a words machine.
Today I realised that my philosophy classmates have probably been googling transpersonal solipsism (because it's not commonly written about apparently?) and this blog has probably been coming up. It'd be nice if some people actually decided to read the blog for real from this accidental stumbleupon but I doubt it somehow. Anyway it would be really embarrassing if my teacher himself googled it and saw how reverently I regarded that email. I've come through my "philosophical breakdown" now so I don't really feel as mushily about it as I did then but I'll keep it up just for kicks. Plus I really think it's a good bit of philosophical propaganda.
Also today I was walking down Burwood Rd and I realised how much I really like grooving away while I'm walking. I love singing while I walk and I just do it all the time lately. I was returning home from our favourite Indian restaurant on Glenferrie rd, Sahni's. It has $15 buffets on Wednesday evenings. And they taste so good! Tonight there was this eggplant and potato thing and it was utterly fabulous. Usually we eat and eat until we are sickeningly full but tonight we restrained ourselves. By we I mean my sister and my dear wife Jacqueline. And then I wanted to scope out this place where my dear friend/boss/general awesome person is going to be MC-ing a poetry reading. These events are created by Laura Smith who is Melissa's friend and who I hung out with at TiNA. I rather admire Laura because she seems to be part of this really awesome poet crew. And after TiNA I decided that I want to be a bit more into poetry and writing in general. Of course, it's a rather unfortunate time for me to realise this seeing how university happens to be really alarmingly busy at the moment.
Whilst at TiNA, this little story I wrote was totes put into the Voiceworks zine. And that made me feel cool. So I just want to write something fierce lately. You can't stop me. I'm like a words machine.
Stacey's Seasonal Haiku
spring
i put my hood on
walk through the wet streets
warm spring rain
autumn
people in scarves
jump on
crunchy leaves
summer
the sun on my skin
this infinite heat
this summer's day
winter
tangled in blankets
the glow of my computer
keeping me warm
i put my hood on
walk through the wet streets
warm spring rain
autumn
people in scarves
jump on
crunchy leaves
summer
the sun on my skin
this infinite heat
this summer's day
winter
tangled in blankets
the glow of my computer
keeping me warm
seasons haiku
autumn
everyone on this train has
red eyes &
a matching red nose.
winter
everyone in Melbourne is sick
& tired. trying to be
cold & romantic.
spring
hours spent choosing clothes
Melboune's wrath is fierce:
weather changes. Wrong again.
summer
my back & shoulders ache
and I'm sure
my lettuce is sweating.
everyone on this train has
red eyes &
a matching red nose.
winter
everyone in Melbourne is sick
& tired. trying to be
cold & romantic.
spring
hours spent choosing clothes
Melboune's wrath is fierce:
weather changes. Wrong again.
summer
my back & shoulders ache
and I'm sure
my lettuce is sweating.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
material things
I've posted like ninety thousand videos on facebook tonight so I'll just post this one here instead.
I heard it on RRR yesterday while I was waiting to panel for our Room with a View show. I was like "oh that lyric about adobe slabs sounds familiar" then I'm looking up that lyric and it's that Animal Collective song.. but then I watch the video for that song and I go.. that's not right.. it was a girl singing. And then I found this. And it is amazing. So watch the hell out of it. Oh! Just researched Taken by Trees and it's that girl from the Concretes! No wonder this cover is so awesome
I am going to use this blog for real blogging soon AND I also have been collecting haiku for the haiku task below.
I heard it on RRR yesterday while I was waiting to panel for our Room with a View show. I was like "oh that lyric about adobe slabs sounds familiar" then I'm looking up that lyric and it's that Animal Collective song.. but then I watch the video for that song and I go.. that's not right.. it was a girl singing. And then I found this. And it is amazing. So watch the hell out of it. Oh! Just researched Taken by Trees and it's that girl from the Concretes! No wonder this cover is so awesome
I am going to use this blog for real blogging soon AND I also have been collecting haiku for the haiku task below.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
long but beautiful
You don’t think philosophy has relevance to you, your life, or your
career? Are you sure you’re listening? You who drive a car, you who
have accidents, you who get dumped by boyfriends/girlfriends/spouses,
you who get robbed, you who find out your father is not your real
father, you who get into abusive relationships, you who can only find
comfort in eating, you who get diagnosed with cancer or another illness,
you who are getting older, you who are dying.
I really like my philosophy teacher a whole lot. This is an email he sent to us. I am dumb for reposting it, but my sanity relies a lot on correspondences like this.
Having read your journals I ask myself the question:
What is the main thing about Transpersonal Solipsism that students are
failing to understand?
They are failing to understand the distinction between oneself
considered empirically as a particular human person, or persona, or
avatar, and oneself considered transcendentally as the transpersonal
creator and player of all the avatars. Hence they keep asking questions
like: “Why would I have created the world (dream, virtual reality
game) to be as it is rather than something more to my liking?” *
i.e., the ego’s liking, the persona’s liking. They are assuming that
the preferences of oneself as transpersonal creator Self should be
exactly the same as the preferences of oneself as personal self or
avatar.
But this does not follow. There is no reason to suppose that the
various personas or avatars will have the same preferences as the
transpersonal Self. Indeed, there are a couple of excellent reasons to
expect otherwise. First, there are billions of persons/personas/avatars
of the one creator Self in the virtual reality game called the world,
each with its own unique perspective on things and set of likes and
dislikes * from Genghis Khan to Mother Teresa to Apache Indians to
Pygmies to Victorian cockneys to Vikings to monastic flagellants to
modern Melbournians, etc. Obviously they cannot all have the same
perspective and set of likes and dislikes as the one creator Self that
has created and is playing all these different avatars.
Second, remember the idea is that the creator Self has deliberately
deceived itself into forgetting within the game its own status as
creator of the game, all the better to play fully its avatars. One would
not expect the avatars to remember who they really are or their real
perspective and values (unless perhaps they have some kind of mystical
experience and momentarily transcend the game, or there is a glitch in
the dream matrix, or perhaps they meet a local philosopher avatar *
some crazy Morpheus-like character * who attempts to remind them who
they really are: the One).
As avatars within the game, each person will naturally play out that
persona and hence like and approve of certain aspects of life and
reality while vehemently disliking and disapproving of other aspects of
life and reality. Each will be different regarding what aspects they
like or dislike and none (or only a very few) will realise that they are
the One, the creator of the whole game, playing every avatar.
In short: there is no reason to expect that yourself (as creator Self)
will create a gameworld that yourself (as person/persona self) likes in
all respects. That you vehemently dislike many aspects of life and
reality is perfectly in order: it is what you yourself, as creator of
the gameworld, wants in its personas. To put it boldly: you want
yourself to dislike (or be fearful of or depressed about, or be
horrified by) some aspects of this life and reality. That is why you
dislike them.
That would explain why “Man” is so frequently in disagreement with
“God”. That is: individual human beings very rarely feel in accord
with or at peace with “God’s will” * i.e., the unfolding of fate
(game destiny) from moment to moment. That is: we are very rarely at
peace with ourselves (considered transcendentally as God, creator of
this world and of our fate/destiny within it).
If you think about it, there is only one way for a non-servile sort of
person to be at peace with God, life, reality, fate: see yourself as the
sole creator of it * i.e., that no other being is imposing anything on
you against your will. Hence: you as the transpersonal playmaker Self
are the creator of you and your fate as a personal player self. Hence:
you are the author of all your dislikes and limitations. Hence: you are
the creator of the fact that you are fearful or horrified by this or
that in life or that you are a weak and fragile being (in short, a
normal human avatar).
Realising this you might come to like that you dislike some things.
That is your personality/persona to play out. So play it. “Play out
the play” * as Shakespeare said. It is perfectly in order that you
get angry or anxious at this or that, or that you sometimes get
depressed, or that life seems so tragic at times, or you get horrified
at some things (war, earthquakes, bushfires, etc).
Be honest with yourself about how you feel and feel what you feel *
it is okay to have those feelings. Be at peace with the fact that you
are not at peace with it. Hence, if you are angry, be at peace with that
anger. And so on.
What happens? Paradoxically, what tends to happen when you are at peace
with not being at peace about something (angry, fearful, depressed, etc)
is that these un-peaceful emotions start to weaken and wither by
themselves (setting their own pace). Why? * Because you are not
feeding them with further divisiveness and hostile agitation (eg,
getting angry about being angry is just more anger).
In short, let everything be as an integral whole as it currently is in
this moment, including yourself as you currently are. It is perfectly in
order that it is as it is * including that you don’t personally like
this or that much (that you yourself as transcendental playmaker have
created).
Being able to be at peace in life * it all depends on which self and
its values you identify with most. If you identify most with your
personal ego and its values then you will rarely be at peace. You will
be at the mercy of every changing wind that blows. For your personal
self or ego is very fragile and has so many likes and dislikes. Fate
seldom gratifies your personal likes and dislikes * as you may have
noticed by now. On the other hand, if you identify most with your
transcendental transpersonal Self and its values, then you will be able
to let go of your personal ego and its various likes and dislikes more
easily and so be at one with change and fate and death * i.e., God’s
will * i.e., your own higher will. No matter what happens in life you
will always have that sanctuary within.
Ancient Greek philosophers called it eudemonia: the capacity to be
intelligently untroubled and freely happy from within yourself and
thereby relatively immune to the changing flux of fate and fortune. This
is also widely reckoned to be a kind of wisdom * which is what
philosophy is all about. For as we said in week one, philosophy is the
love of wisdom.
career? Are you sure you’re listening? You who drive a car, you who
have accidents, you who get dumped by boyfriends/girlfriends/spouses,
you who get robbed, you who find out your father is not your real
father, you who get into abusive relationships, you who can only find
comfort in eating, you who get diagnosed with cancer or another illness,
you who are getting older, you who are dying.
I really like my philosophy teacher a whole lot. This is an email he sent to us. I am dumb for reposting it, but my sanity relies a lot on correspondences like this.
Having read your journals I ask myself the question:
What is the main thing about Transpersonal Solipsism that students are
failing to understand?
They are failing to understand the distinction between oneself
considered empirically as a particular human person, or persona, or
avatar, and oneself considered transcendentally as the transpersonal
creator and player of all the avatars. Hence they keep asking questions
like: “Why would I have created the world (dream, virtual reality
game) to be as it is rather than something more to my liking?” *
i.e., the ego’s liking, the persona’s liking. They are assuming that
the preferences of oneself as transpersonal creator Self should be
exactly the same as the preferences of oneself as personal self or
avatar.
But this does not follow. There is no reason to suppose that the
various personas or avatars will have the same preferences as the
transpersonal Self. Indeed, there are a couple of excellent reasons to
expect otherwise. First, there are billions of persons/personas/avatars
of the one creator Self in the virtual reality game called the world,
each with its own unique perspective on things and set of likes and
dislikes * from Genghis Khan to Mother Teresa to Apache Indians to
Pygmies to Victorian cockneys to Vikings to monastic flagellants to
modern Melbournians, etc. Obviously they cannot all have the same
perspective and set of likes and dislikes as the one creator Self that
has created and is playing all these different avatars.
Second, remember the idea is that the creator Self has deliberately
deceived itself into forgetting within the game its own status as
creator of the game, all the better to play fully its avatars. One would
not expect the avatars to remember who they really are or their real
perspective and values (unless perhaps they have some kind of mystical
experience and momentarily transcend the game, or there is a glitch in
the dream matrix, or perhaps they meet a local philosopher avatar *
some crazy Morpheus-like character * who attempts to remind them who
they really are: the One).
As avatars within the game, each person will naturally play out that
persona and hence like and approve of certain aspects of life and
reality while vehemently disliking and disapproving of other aspects of
life and reality. Each will be different regarding what aspects they
like or dislike and none (or only a very few) will realise that they are
the One, the creator of the whole game, playing every avatar.
In short: there is no reason to expect that yourself (as creator Self)
will create a gameworld that yourself (as person/persona self) likes in
all respects. That you vehemently dislike many aspects of life and
reality is perfectly in order: it is what you yourself, as creator of
the gameworld, wants in its personas. To put it boldly: you want
yourself to dislike (or be fearful of or depressed about, or be
horrified by) some aspects of this life and reality. That is why you
dislike them.
That would explain why “Man” is so frequently in disagreement with
“God”. That is: individual human beings very rarely feel in accord
with or at peace with “God’s will” * i.e., the unfolding of fate
(game destiny) from moment to moment. That is: we are very rarely at
peace with ourselves (considered transcendentally as God, creator of
this world and of our fate/destiny within it).
If you think about it, there is only one way for a non-servile sort of
person to be at peace with God, life, reality, fate: see yourself as the
sole creator of it * i.e., that no other being is imposing anything on
you against your will. Hence: you as the transpersonal playmaker Self
are the creator of you and your fate as a personal player self. Hence:
you are the author of all your dislikes and limitations. Hence: you are
the creator of the fact that you are fearful or horrified by this or
that in life or that you are a weak and fragile being (in short, a
normal human avatar).
Realising this you might come to like that you dislike some things.
That is your personality/persona to play out. So play it. “Play out
the play” * as Shakespeare said. It is perfectly in order that you
get angry or anxious at this or that, or that you sometimes get
depressed, or that life seems so tragic at times, or you get horrified
at some things (war, earthquakes, bushfires, etc).
Be honest with yourself about how you feel and feel what you feel *
it is okay to have those feelings. Be at peace with the fact that you
are not at peace with it. Hence, if you are angry, be at peace with that
anger. And so on.
What happens? Paradoxically, what tends to happen when you are at peace
with not being at peace about something (angry, fearful, depressed, etc)
is that these un-peaceful emotions start to weaken and wither by
themselves (setting their own pace). Why? * Because you are not
feeding them with further divisiveness and hostile agitation (eg,
getting angry about being angry is just more anger).
In short, let everything be as an integral whole as it currently is in
this moment, including yourself as you currently are. It is perfectly in
order that it is as it is * including that you don’t personally like
this or that much (that you yourself as transcendental playmaker have
created).
Being able to be at peace in life * it all depends on which self and
its values you identify with most. If you identify most with your
personal ego and its values then you will rarely be at peace. You will
be at the mercy of every changing wind that blows. For your personal
self or ego is very fragile and has so many likes and dislikes. Fate
seldom gratifies your personal likes and dislikes * as you may have
noticed by now. On the other hand, if you identify most with your
transcendental transpersonal Self and its values, then you will be able
to let go of your personal ego and its various likes and dislikes more
easily and so be at one with change and fate and death * i.e., God’s
will * i.e., your own higher will. No matter what happens in life you
will always have that sanctuary within.
Ancient Greek philosophers called it eudemonia: the capacity to be
intelligently untroubled and freely happy from within yourself and
thereby relatively immune to the changing flux of fate and fortune. This
is also widely reckoned to be a kind of wisdom * which is what
philosophy is all about. For as we said in week one, philosophy is the
love of wisdom.
Monday, September 14, 2009
making
Tonight I am internet happy.
&
Thought I'd share something with you. I recently decided that I want to be a bit more crafty and creative, so I made myself a little bit of an owl softie. I researched patterns and styles of owls for a little while then just kinda made up my own pattern.. I could be a little more adventurous though. Anyway here are some photos. If you look closely, you can see me wearing a silly headscarf in the background.
I read this guy's tumblr and he always uploads pictures he's taken of himself with photobooth. He's really pretty and can do that, but I can't do it the same. I'll just hide behind my owls.
I think for the next softie that I make I'll just use the floral material for the whole thing and maybe have the wings a plain colour. I wasn't really sure what combination would work the best.. I mean this little fellow is cute, isn't he? He was nice to cuddle last night anyway.
Farmer Wants a Wife is possibly the worst show to ever grace Australia's television screens, amirite?!
&
Thought I'd share something with you. I recently decided that I want to be a bit more crafty and creative, so I made myself a little bit of an owl softie. I researched patterns and styles of owls for a little while then just kinda made up my own pattern.. I could be a little more adventurous though. Anyway here are some photos. If you look closely, you can see me wearing a silly headscarf in the background.
I read this guy's tumblr and he always uploads pictures he's taken of himself with photobooth. He's really pretty and can do that, but I can't do it the same. I'll just hide behind my owls.
I think for the next softie that I make I'll just use the floral material for the whole thing and maybe have the wings a plain colour. I wasn't really sure what combination would work the best.. I mean this little fellow is cute, isn't he? He was nice to cuddle last night anyway.
Farmer Wants a Wife is possibly the worst show to ever grace Australia's television screens, amirite?!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
not not belonging
Stacey you want me to write about not belonging. I feel like I could write something about how I just went to Horsham and I never feel like that is my home any more simply because all my friends have left and nothing happens there.. but isn’t that just a giant cliché? I think it’s the closest I have to not belonging.
I feel like I don’t belong when I am alone at gigs (this happened to me more last year – have not been to so many gigs this year)
But actually I try to ignore all the things I don’t belong to! Better to concentrate on the things that I do belong to. Dwell not on the negative.
---
Anyway today on the train back to Melbourne there was this bunch of cool kids. By cool I mean French and Italian. I wanted to belong to them & I wrote something vague and vaguely poetic [HOPEFULLY]
---
French boys talking about driving on the left side of the road, snuggling into and leaning on each other with large eyebrows and lazy beards.
I feel like I don’t belong when I am alone at gigs (this happened to me more last year – have not been to so many gigs this year)
But actually I try to ignore all the things I don’t belong to! Better to concentrate on the things that I do belong to. Dwell not on the negative.
---
Anyway today on the train back to Melbourne there was this bunch of cool kids. By cool I mean French and Italian. I wanted to belong to them & I wrote something vague and vaguely poetic [HOPEFULLY]
---
French boys talking about driving on the left side of the road, snuggling into and leaning on each other with large eyebrows and lazy beards.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
from gloom cupboard
Robert Laughlin
Free
There still remain for you and me,
Though all the world exploit us,
Two purest pleasures without fee:
The library and coitus.
Free
There still remain for you and me,
Though all the world exploit us,
Two purest pleasures without fee:
The library and coitus.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
omlette
One of the best bloggers on the interwebs is Pip Lincolne. She posts so many sweet things I can barely keep up. Cute websites full of owl pictures and other bits of niceness, like this meme thing. I don't even care that everyone loves/knows her blog. I am just reblogging on the offchance that some "random" people who RSS to my blog (in the ideal/fantasy land that I live in I have secret people who subscribe to my blog) will see/read this post and go to her blog and henceforth enjoy all the loveliness that is Meet Me At Mikes.
And here's the stuff that I am doing
Making : eyes at the television
Cooking : nothing
Drinking : watre
Reading: a book about writers and their lovers/a lot of stuff on google reader
Wanting: this chair to be more comfortable
Looking: at the news
Playing: with my empty mousse thingo
Wasting: time!
Sewing: does knitting count ?
Wishing: that there was more mousse
Enjoying: making funnies behind Jason's back
Waiting: for people
Liking: express media buzzcuts programme for letting me in!!
Wondering: about the power of towers
Loving: my sister's art friends/hayley & amanda's exhibition opening (stay tuned to kym's blog for pictures!!)
Hoping: that I will create some decent ads for this stupid assignment
Marvelling: at the stupidity of Kyle Sandilands
Needing: another cushion for this couch
Smelling: there's still a waft of kebab scent in the lounge
Wearing: large flowery retrostar dress
Following: well I guess I'm now following that owl picture website
Noticing: that everyone is getting into tumblr. what's the deal?
Knowing: it's bedtime soon
Thinking: my bum hurts
Feeling: my sore bum
Bookmarking: owl pictures
Opening: up a can o worms
Giggling: about mousse related things
Feeling: like I wanna go see Taking Woodstock. Emile Hirsch + Dimitri Martin!!
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
appreciation!
Wooden objects post time.
I recently acquired a lot of hard rubbish, the most of which is wooden, but I kinda have a few little things around that I love a lot more. Also there are fairly obvious things like musical instruments that I adore (piano & oboe obviously) but I think it's nice to talk about small things sometimes. I also just ran around taking dumb pictures of the things on my phone because there aren't enough pictures on this blog for my liking.
So these are matryoshka dolls that my friend Natasha (the Russian) gave me for my birthday last year. the big one has things hidden inside her. Tasha said her mum made her bring them when she moved here so she could give presents to friends. Lucky meeeeee!
This round box here used to be home to yummy turkish delight that my aunt bought me for Christmas when I was staying with her in this little village in England. Neat. And it wasn't the chocolate covered kind - although that kind is yummy too - but the proper .. icing sugar? coated type. Now it is home to badges and other miscellaneous things (like a key from Stacey that reportedly fits nowhere)
This is Jacki's hairbrush. Last Christmas I asked for a hairbrush and I wanted one like this but I got a crappy plastic round one. Jacki didn't even bloody ask for one and she received this beautiful one. Little bitch! So I kinda just use this when she's not looking.
I recently acquired a lot of hard rubbish, the most of which is wooden, but I kinda have a few little things around that I love a lot more. Also there are fairly obvious things like musical instruments that I adore (piano & oboe obviously) but I think it's nice to talk about small things sometimes. I also just ran around taking dumb pictures of the things on my phone because there aren't enough pictures on this blog for my liking.
So these are matryoshka dolls that my friend Natasha (the Russian) gave me for my birthday last year. the big one has things hidden inside her. Tasha said her mum made her bring them when she moved here so she could give presents to friends. Lucky meeeeee!
This round box here used to be home to yummy turkish delight that my aunt bought me for Christmas when I was staying with her in this little village in England. Neat. And it wasn't the chocolate covered kind - although that kind is yummy too - but the proper .. icing sugar? coated type. Now it is home to badges and other miscellaneous things (like a key from Stacey that reportedly fits nowhere)
This is Jacki's hairbrush. Last Christmas I asked for a hairbrush and I wanted one like this but I got a crappy plastic round one. Jacki didn't even bloody ask for one and she received this beautiful one. Little bitch! So I kinda just use this when she's not looking.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Wooden Things - Stace
Susie says: "let's do a blog post about our favourite wooden objects. up to three things. they don't have to be completely wooden, just mostly woooden."
I'm not sure if the three o's in wooden was a typo or if Susie was just really excited about the whole idea. Basically, I have one wooden thing that I like that I can think of.
That is my record player. It was a gift from my ex-boyfriend. On the lid it has messages from my two best friends and said ex-boyfriend riding on a dragon. Sam, my sig. other, drew a speech bubble connected to said ex saying "I'm fast at sex!" due to his dislike of him.
Apart from the scandal that takes place on the lid, the record player is quite lovely. It also has a CD player, a tape player and a radio player.
Sitting dormant in my record player, is a shiny black vinyl record which states "Townes Van Zandt. Live At The Old Quarter, Houston, TX."
It is relaxing for me to sit in bed and listen to a record; a far better experience than listening to music through the speakers of my laptop. No, this is the real listening experience. The physical, grittiness of the needle running through those grooves, over and over, around and around. Until the needle lays still.
I'm not sure if the three o's in wooden was a typo or if Susie was just really excited about the whole idea. Basically, I have one wooden thing that I like that I can think of.
That is my record player. It was a gift from my ex-boyfriend. On the lid it has messages from my two best friends and said ex-boyfriend riding on a dragon. Sam, my sig. other, drew a speech bubble connected to said ex saying "I'm fast at sex!" due to his dislike of him.
Apart from the scandal that takes place on the lid, the record player is quite lovely. It also has a CD player, a tape player and a radio player.
Sitting dormant in my record player, is a shiny black vinyl record which states "Townes Van Zandt. Live At The Old Quarter, Houston, TX."
It is relaxing for me to sit in bed and listen to a record; a far better experience than listening to music through the speakers of my laptop. No, this is the real listening experience. The physical, grittiness of the needle running through those grooves, over and over, around and around. Until the needle lays still.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
which way to
6 things that make me happy.
The rules:
Link back to the person who tagged you.
List six little things that make you happy.
Tag six bloggers and let them know they’re “it”.
1. working at union arts
2. beautiful bookstores (even though they are usually really expensive)
3. getting to sing songs (and play music) really loud when you're home alone
4. hanging around in the uni caf for hours after classes have finished (talking about very little at all with really good people)
5. wandering around Hawthorn on nice days (it's a pretty place to live)
6. toast (noodles also really, but for the sake of sixness, toast wins) with avocado
Nobody is tagging real people & I don't think I have six people who read this blog regularly so I guess if you read this, please do (apart from Stacey, who already did hers)
oh and Chelsea from the really awesome band Teacups started the whole thing
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Colours
Yevgeny Yevtuschenko
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
The wind is whistling violently through the cracks in the door. It is quite alarming.
- Stace
Yevgeny Yevtuschenko
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
The wind is whistling violently through the cracks in the door. It is quite alarming.
- Stace
ending, this week
This poem is from a website called Gloom Cupboard.
Lindsea Kemp
Ending, this week
This week has been nothing but endings.
Sticky endings, pulled apart with little
mucus ropes hanging together.
Clean endings, one schwap
of the axe and cut.
Mixed up endings, where
goodbye sounds like hello coming
from a pair of red Rocky Horror lips
that you later find out
is your sphincter.
This week I realized I am dying.
And for some reason all I want
is a hamburger, greasy.
I want to shove the thin
ground beef patty into my
open mouth. Squeeze a couple
ketchup covered fries in.
Suck frantically at the straw of my Coke
like it is life’s elixir.
My hands are covered
in grease, and I have a
funny feeling my soul is drenched.
Smeared shiny and sticky, I roll
in Hiroshima ash and curl.
I am a sugar covered donut.
This week I haven’t showered,
only spun in my own
fevered nightmares, my sweaty
sheets heavy as a lecher’s kiss—
an executioner’s axe—
the 1.65 ounces of metal
that it takes to put a bullet through
another human’s head.
This week I found the fear of death
hidden behind my puckering
navel. It was hard to find, because
it’s fear of life’s conjoined, bloody fetus.
So ugly, but I can’t turn my Oreo eyes
away. They’re now shrink wrapped and
labeled for resale ease.
This week I knew everything.
The first kiss of a dying couple, Osama Bin Laden’s underwear brand, your mother, the white and yellow Rx bottle used as a teddy bear, the space between the boot and the landmine, the dash in between the dates on the gravestone, a cheap hooker’s retarded brother, the wind on an Ugandan’s face, multiple orgasms, a dying pigeon’s final breath ignored, empty buses, cloudy sunsets, chewed bubble gum, the reason you need to pray.
It’s commonplace, really.
I am nothing. I am everything. I am ending.
Lindsea Kemp
Ending, this week
This week has been nothing but endings.
Sticky endings, pulled apart with little
mucus ropes hanging together.
Clean endings, one schwap
of the axe and cut.
Mixed up endings, where
goodbye sounds like hello coming
from a pair of red Rocky Horror lips
that you later find out
is your sphincter.
This week I realized I am dying.
And for some reason all I want
is a hamburger, greasy.
I want to shove the thin
ground beef patty into my
open mouth. Squeeze a couple
ketchup covered fries in.
Suck frantically at the straw of my Coke
like it is life’s elixir.
My hands are covered
in grease, and I have a
funny feeling my soul is drenched.
Smeared shiny and sticky, I roll
in Hiroshima ash and curl.
I am a sugar covered donut.
This week I haven’t showered,
only spun in my own
fevered nightmares, my sweaty
sheets heavy as a lecher’s kiss—
an executioner’s axe—
the 1.65 ounces of metal
that it takes to put a bullet through
another human’s head.
This week I found the fear of death
hidden behind my puckering
navel. It was hard to find, because
it’s fear of life’s conjoined, bloody fetus.
So ugly, but I can’t turn my Oreo eyes
away. They’re now shrink wrapped and
labeled for resale ease.
This week I knew everything.
The first kiss of a dying couple, Osama Bin Laden’s underwear brand, your mother, the white and yellow Rx bottle used as a teddy bear, the space between the boot and the landmine, the dash in between the dates on the gravestone, a cheap hooker’s retarded brother, the wind on an Ugandan’s face, multiple orgasms, a dying pigeon’s final breath ignored, empty buses, cloudy sunsets, chewed bubble gum, the reason you need to pray.
It’s commonplace, really.
I am nothing. I am everything. I am ending.
Since Susie was blogging about Melbourne, I’d though I’d say a bit about the city I live in, Auckland.
I have lived in Auckland my whole life and feel quite at home here. I know all of the nooks and crannies of this city and it brings me great joy. Some places in particular that I like are:
- The Laingholm, Titirangi area. It is close to where I grew up though it is not too far out of the city to make you feel out of touch with humanity. It is a peaceful place nestled away in the bush, it has an arty sort of feel and the people are so lovely.
- West coast beaches such as Piha, Murawai, Bethells. These beaches are perhaps half an hour drive from civilization but they are quite beautiful. To me, they are what all beaches should be; the booming waves, idyllic surroundings, BLACK sand – all the things that I grew up with.
- K Rd (aka Karangahape Road). I suppose you could call in the cultural centre of Auckland, strangely enough, it is also our red light district. As I now live just off K rd, I am quite used to the medley of strange characters that dwell on the road; the raving lunatics, the homeless, the drunks, the transvestites, the prostitutes and the hipsters. Mostly they keep to themselves. There are a wide variety of op shops, art galleries and cafes – everything a hipster needs.
- Waiheke Island. To get here, you catch a ferry from downtown Auckland; this will take you 30 minutes. The island is actually quite vast; but there are the few popular places that people mostly go to. Whenever I go there, I feel such a wonderful sense of community and it is a very arty community at that. Known for its vineyards and quiet beaches, it is really the ideal place for me.
I have lived in Auckland my whole life and feel quite at home here. I know all of the nooks and crannies of this city and it brings me great joy. Some places in particular that I like are:
- The Laingholm, Titirangi area. It is close to where I grew up though it is not too far out of the city to make you feel out of touch with humanity. It is a peaceful place nestled away in the bush, it has an arty sort of feel and the people are so lovely.
- West coast beaches such as Piha, Murawai, Bethells. These beaches are perhaps half an hour drive from civilization but they are quite beautiful. To me, they are what all beaches should be; the booming waves, idyllic surroundings, BLACK sand – all the things that I grew up with.
- K Rd (aka Karangahape Road). I suppose you could call in the cultural centre of Auckland, strangely enough, it is also our red light district. As I now live just off K rd, I am quite used to the medley of strange characters that dwell on the road; the raving lunatics, the homeless, the drunks, the transvestites, the prostitutes and the hipsters. Mostly they keep to themselves. There are a wide variety of op shops, art galleries and cafes – everything a hipster needs.
- Waiheke Island. To get here, you catch a ferry from downtown Auckland; this will take you 30 minutes. The island is actually quite vast; but there are the few popular places that people mostly go to. Whenever I go there, I feel such a wonderful sense of community and it is a very arty community at that. Known for its vineyards and quiet beaches, it is really the ideal place for me.
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