Wow, the sound of my own voice is AMAAAAZING!!!
That is why I write on the blog, so I gloat about how cool I am with my AWESOME opinions on "stuff". You ain't got it if you ain't me and you ain't writing my blog. Only I can do this because that is how good I am, as I blog away. READ my stuff. You have to read everything I write because that is the point of a self indulgent blog. Of course my mind be mightier than the sword - hence why I am all over this. Guess what else I have been thinking about - Oh just how Radical I am with my ALTERNATIVE views on "stuff". I am like sooo DIFFERENT - like totally ORIGINAL. And that is the reason I write these blogs, so I can inspire people and make money off the adds - just so I can help the poor people in third world countries. I am such a good person, Kama will give me red roses everyday as I help the needy. I also support everything, because that is what amazing means - support all, no matter what. Anyway, I got to go now, got to go save a life or something out of the KINDNESS of my amazing heart. If only more people were like me, our world would be a better place.
XOXOXOXOXOX
The Amazing Secret Guy ;)
Thursday, 25 October 2012
Wednesday, 24 October 2012
Culture is lame
I was trying to think of something real lame right now in my over tired state of mind, and all that came up was how lame culture really is. If you think about it, it is full of crap that nobody actually gives a toss about. The only parts that people enjoy have common themes like EATING, ENTERTAINMENT and PARTYING - yep that is the foundation of good culture, might as well drop all the lame acts with silly getups - and get out and get something, or life's just gonna pass you by. Forget wishy washy cultural crap. Everyone loves a good feed. Take my japan for instance: We got great food, sweet cartoons, cool as celebrations (less people care about these because half of them are boring).... Go to Brazil - got an awesome party, and a whole lot of meat, the really got some go BBQ - bit like American culture - what is it about, entertainment, food, partying... it is all the same destination with all these cultures. All these claims of having a unique and amazing culture is just bogus. Make believe, trying to make you believe in something that ain't really true. Who the hell cares about the boring sides of culture besides the brainwashed mumpty dumpties. When I get all cultured with the Samoans - I don't do it for their 6 hour white Sunday boring ass church service where half the crowed snooze - I go straight to the after party where there be a feast. When I chill with my Italiano friends - do I go there to talk about the building of Rome - hell no, I go there to eat Nona's family recipes and to drink some of the home made wines. You gotta be kidding me if you actually care more about the boring ass side of cultures when the good side is all the same stuff anyway. You go to a Jewish wedding for the crazy dance - then fooood. The sooner we get over all this let's be cultured crap the sooner we will mold as the simple society we really are, a food loving, entertainment loving, party loving bunch of crazy kids.
PS: Purebreeds can go die, us mix and match fruit salad types kick ass - because we embrace the most important bits. For me it's all about food. I don't give a damn about some silly traditions. Shove tradition in a fatmans tomb for all I care.
PS: Purebreeds can go die, us mix and match fruit salad types kick ass - because we embrace the most important bits. For me it's all about food. I don't give a damn about some silly traditions. Shove tradition in a fatmans tomb for all I care.
No Shell in my Soup
So I was skinny dipping down by the ocean and this Green Turtle comes up to me and says "Dude, what happened to your shell, your like so naked."
Turtle Soup
Such a fine dish to eat
while laying naked in the sand
- Moral of the story kids, is don't be a direct perve, do it privately from the safety of a sandbank.
Turtle Soup
Such a fine dish to eat
while laying naked in the sand
- Moral of the story kids, is don't be a direct perve, do it privately from the safety of a sandbank.
Use Paper - It is great.
After randomly reading Amber's blog about how evil ebooks are and agreeing that the real deals is far superior and then noticing her little "oh well I am saving trees"... This is a common misconception - the only time this should be said is with Corks - facts are we are running out of those trees. But the more paper we use, the better for the environment - because amazingly we farm trees, yes we grow them faster than we turn them to paper. I know I know, it is amazing that some trees actually grow really fast... And yes electronics are miles worse for the environment. Actually I have a forward that was going around that is quite hilarious - it makes the point of how it is our generation that is ruining the environment rather than those before us.
Well that said and done, back to trees:
Myths And Realities ... one of many pages that will finally get you up to reality.
Being GreenRemember - remember ?
Checking out at the store, the young cashier suggested to the much older
woman, that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags
weren't good for the environment.
The woman apologized and explained, "We didn't have this 'green thing'
back in my earlier days."
The young clerk responded, "That's our problem today. Your generation did
not care enough to save our environment for future generations."
She was right -- our generation didn't have the 'green thing' in its day.
Back then, we returned milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the
store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and
refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over. So they really
were recycled.
But we didn't have the "green thing" back in our day.
Grocery stores bagged our groceries in brown paper bags, that we reused for
numerous things, most memorable besides household garbage bags, was the use
of brown paper bags as book covers for our schoolbooks.. This was to ensure
that public property, (the books provided for our use by the school) was not
defaced by our scribblings. Then we were able to personalize our books on
the brown paper bags.
But too bad we didn't do the "green thing" back then.
We walked up stairs, because we didn't have an escalator in every store and
office building. We walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a
300-horsepower machine every time we had to go two blocks.
But she was right. We didn't have the "green thing" in our day.
Back then, we washed the baby's diapers because we didn't have the throwaway
kind. We dried clothes on a line, not in an energy-gobbling machine burning
up hundreds of amps -- wind and solar power really did dry our clothes back in our
early days. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters,
not always brand-new clothing.
But that young lady is right; we didn't have the "green thing" back in our
day.
Back then, we had one TV, or radio, in the house -- not a TV in every room.
And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief (remember them?),
not a screen the size of the state of W.A.. In the kitchen, we blended
and stirred by hand because we didn't have electric machines to do
everything for us. When we packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, we
used wadded up old newspapers to cushion it, not Styrofoam or plastic bubble
wrap. Back then, we didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut
the lawn. We used a push mower that ran on human power. We exercised by
working so we didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that
operate on electricity.
But she's right; we didn't have the "green thing" back then.
We drank from a fountain when we were thirsty instead of using a disposable cup or a
plastic bottle every time we had a drink of water. We refilled writing pens
with ink instead of buying a new pen, and we replaced the razor blades in a
razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got
dull.
But we didn't have the "green thing" back then.
Back then, people took the tram, train or bus and kids rode their bikes to
school or walked instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service
in the family's $45,000 4WD or van, which cost as much as a whole house did before
the "green thing." We had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire
bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances.
And we didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from
satellites 23,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest burger
joint.
But isn't it sad that the current generation laments how wasteful we old folks
were just because we didn't have the "green thing" back then?
Please forward this on to another selfish old person who needs a lesson in
conservation from a smartass young person...
We don't like being old in the first place, so it doesn't take much to piss
us off...especially from a tattooed, multiple pierced smartass who can't
make change without the cash register telling them how much.
Well that said and done, back to trees:
Myths And Realities ... one of many pages that will finally get you up to reality.
Blogging is evaaaal
I only do dis cuz I ave to do dis, dis class makes us do dis stuff yo.
That is right, what has the world come to when anyone can write freely and have others read their garbage. The art of trash writing is blogging. It is the beginning of the end, along with the miles of toilet paper the pampers facebooks pretty little cheeks all day long. When the world became free to write what one wills, the world became stupider. Some people were not born to write nor express their moronic opinions. Writing should take a percentage of talent, but this is not true anymore as the darkness shreds through the once fine pages of an excellent book. The world is so tainted in a writing sense that "fanfiction" actually gets published world wide with lots of sales. And it all started with the Internet - one of the most forward, yet most backward bits of technology to hit planet earth. Some things were meant to stay hidden away in the mind of those that bore us. It was supposed to be a gift to have the art of creative writing, but now it is an even greater struggle with such garbage as blogging haunting the worlds pages. People read more now, they read electronic rags, also known as facebook rants, rubbish really, absolute pointless trash - they should be shot, but there are far too many. Even right now I am adding to the problem, I am doing the work of an Evil Lord. I hate most bloggers almost as much as I hate most journalist - it's dribble writing, as it requires no ink, just a driblling mouth that spends too much time self gloating. That is the blogging reality, the sooner the internet gets hit with a mega virus, the better for the world. We could do with less rubbish, if only there were a virus that killed the people that wrote the rubbish, that would really change the world. Captain Virus, please stand up.
In other news, Meryl Streep deserves anther Oscar for that performance coming soon to a theater near you.
That is right, what has the world come to when anyone can write freely and have others read their garbage. The art of trash writing is blogging. It is the beginning of the end, along with the miles of toilet paper the pampers facebooks pretty little cheeks all day long. When the world became free to write what one wills, the world became stupider. Some people were not born to write nor express their moronic opinions. Writing should take a percentage of talent, but this is not true anymore as the darkness shreds through the once fine pages of an excellent book. The world is so tainted in a writing sense that "fanfiction" actually gets published world wide with lots of sales. And it all started with the Internet - one of the most forward, yet most backward bits of technology to hit planet earth. Some things were meant to stay hidden away in the mind of those that bore us. It was supposed to be a gift to have the art of creative writing, but now it is an even greater struggle with such garbage as blogging haunting the worlds pages. People read more now, they read electronic rags, also known as facebook rants, rubbish really, absolute pointless trash - they should be shot, but there are far too many. Even right now I am adding to the problem, I am doing the work of an Evil Lord. I hate most bloggers almost as much as I hate most journalist - it's dribble writing, as it requires no ink, just a driblling mouth that spends too much time self gloating. That is the blogging reality, the sooner the internet gets hit with a mega virus, the better for the world. We could do with less rubbish, if only there were a virus that killed the people that wrote the rubbish, that would really change the world. Captain Virus, please stand up.
In other news, Meryl Streep deserves anther Oscar for that performance coming soon to a theater near you.
The Reaction Pack
Performance poetry I may not be a fan of, but I am a big fan of a great story that churns a persons stomach or mind. And this is interesting, listening about reactions to a favourite short story of mine.
More Performance with Gracey
So we played a game, and the game required different skills. We had to write a question on a piece of paper - a topic if you like. We folded it up, put it in a pile. We sat down as an audience, one came up, picked on out of the pile an talked about it for a minute - but the rule was no ummms or constipation words. I, being the charitable male, gave up my pride with humble humility, so that the ladies could feel better about themselves.
I stand up and all I have on my paper is forensics, and all I know of this is ummm - I was a little baffled on how to answer a word of something I do not know much about. But then I started over with the realization that it does not matter what I say. So I spouted out lots of stuff about nothing, it got easier and easier, and I am sure I could have kept it going for a good hour if I built up the confidence. Comes down to the way I just tried to get in my head to let me go anywhere, and so I played the connect the dot game and spouted out a bunch of crap over and over again. The minute went by quite fast. Then it was the next persons turn.
Some struggle a lot more than others, everyone had their methods - some actually kept on topic well unlike myself. Interesting exercise all the same. Then Grace pointed out the way in which we use our eyes and body like the way we use ummms, lots of blank staring.
Also in this lesson we walked around reading our poems out loud. It was extremely awkward - sounded like a chant at an occult sacrificial ritual.
Then we performed, I performed a different piece, but after, I found the poem to be annoying, and something I wanted to tear up, I could not read it again. It is done and dusted. Goodbye performance poetry.
I stand up and all I have on my paper is forensics, and all I know of this is ummm - I was a little baffled on how to answer a word of something I do not know much about. But then I started over with the realization that it does not matter what I say. So I spouted out lots of stuff about nothing, it got easier and easier, and I am sure I could have kept it going for a good hour if I built up the confidence. Comes down to the way I just tried to get in my head to let me go anywhere, and so I played the connect the dot game and spouted out a bunch of crap over and over again. The minute went by quite fast. Then it was the next persons turn.
Some struggle a lot more than others, everyone had their methods - some actually kept on topic well unlike myself. Interesting exercise all the same. Then Grace pointed out the way in which we use our eyes and body like the way we use ummms, lots of blank staring.
Also in this lesson we walked around reading our poems out loud. It was extremely awkward - sounded like a chant at an occult sacrificial ritual.
Then we performed, I performed a different piece, but after, I found the poem to be annoying, and something I wanted to tear up, I could not read it again. It is done and dusted. Goodbye performance poetry.
Group Work: The Beginning
So we have our group for our "collaboration" - which is the Rockstar's mother, Miss Shatterhaze, and myself. It took us more than a minute or two to figure out the first steps in what we shall do. The instructions were 45 miles from clarity on what was required of us, so we went with a bit of guess work. We guessed we had to produce pieces of work into a collaborated effort that self published us, whether by the hassle of getting printed, by internet, or creating an audio recording. These were just few of many amazing ideas we came up with. The Rockstar's mother even volunteered her pet cat Nala, where we would shave in poetry and take photographs and videos and present it to the world. But Miss Shatterhaze decided she hated fur and didn't want to get it stuck in her nose. I agreed, as I was worried about the amount of family bloody in my blood, a cat killin' trait would make it more likely that I would skin the cat rather than shaved it. We also had to think of the ethical considerations involved. We did. And it was "considered" wrong by the mumbo jumbo crowd.
Well there we sat trying to work out what work we could use, but pretty soon we all realized that our work was nothing similar. Even our style differed a little. How could we possibly even think to bridge our works together. Then I was like, let's just make a new one where we all just write from the perspective of a diferent character in the story and just present that. And so that is how it started as Rockstar's mother wrote the first bit, and now Miss Shatterhaz must endure in the next bit, then I will tail, and the process may continue. This could all backfire with a disjointed story, or it could be genius. The latter less likely. But we shall try, and try we did, and try we are, and try we shall continue.
I will now sell a kidney on the black market to make money so we can self publish.Such is my dedication to my amazing group of heroes.
Well there we sat trying to work out what work we could use, but pretty soon we all realized that our work was nothing similar. Even our style differed a little. How could we possibly even think to bridge our works together. Then I was like, let's just make a new one where we all just write from the perspective of a diferent character in the story and just present that. And so that is how it started as Rockstar's mother wrote the first bit, and now Miss Shatterhaz must endure in the next bit, then I will tail, and the process may continue. This could all backfire with a disjointed story, or it could be genius. The latter less likely. But we shall try, and try we did, and try we are, and try we shall continue.
I will now sell a kidney on the black market to make money so we can self publish.Such is my dedication to my amazing group of heroes.
Performance with Grace Taylor
Today we decided to do performance poetry - or didn't decide as it was thrust upon us. Grace Taylor knows her craft well. I would never know a thing about performance poetry if it was not for her delivering to us a sound knowledge base on how to perform. Some got it well - some naturally - some don't get it nor ever will in a certain way. I can understand why people endure in performance poetry - but it is something I will never go near again. Publicity is the opposite way of where I want to go. I don't even use my real name. Have many pen-names and I plan to keep it that way - even if I do hit the NY bestseller list.
All the same it is interesting in the way that elements such as climatic pauses, high pitches, staring eyes, gestures of grace (no pun intended), volume and language can affect the performance. It was good to learn what I learnt. On the other hand, standing up and performing my pieces (actually for the first time I sat down, made me realize how much I hate my poetry (lies lies, you have always hated your poetry [thus is true]). After reading it out loud for the second time I realize that it would be far more than I can chew. Plus it required an accident.
I decided I would write a new piece, but I don't have the gift for this area of writing at all, and nothing I write is made well for performance. What I write belongs only to the page, it feels completely wrong to say them out loud. Out loud does not work for me at all and makes me want to find the neck of my poems and strangle them with their own pink panther indulged ridiculous tie.
Others performed well, she also performed a piece and was very good - as she should be. I can admire why people do such, but that is as far as it will ever go. I will never enjoy performance poetry unless it is funny. What I really don't like about performance poetry after we watched some famous performance poets is the amount of political propaganda involved. It would be fine if there were facts for all that is said - otherwise a lot of the time it is a bunch of hateful gibberish that makes me want to close off my ears and go listen to a seminar from an 87 year old man that speaks like a desert wind.
This form does not inspire me as it does others. Once I went to a club in the city and saw some performance poets, some were good, some funny. But in general they remind me of lunatics. I have never seen so many people in socks and sandals and jeans - makes you wonder what goes on in their heads up there.
Oh, I am not having a go at anyone, as I do believe some are very good and entertaining and some can hit the right note - but only a few. I will stick to comedians, as performance poets are halfway there - might as well go the whole way.
But it was a very good lesson and I learnt a lot. I am not easily persuaded. Honestly I have been doing poetry all year and would rather write and 10,000 word story than a ten line poem. Poetry isn't my thing, and performance poetry is far from it.
All the same it is interesting in the way that elements such as climatic pauses, high pitches, staring eyes, gestures of grace (no pun intended), volume and language can affect the performance. It was good to learn what I learnt. On the other hand, standing up and performing my pieces (actually for the first time I sat down, made me realize how much I hate my poetry (lies lies, you have always hated your poetry [thus is true]). After reading it out loud for the second time I realize that it would be far more than I can chew. Plus it required an accident.
I decided I would write a new piece, but I don't have the gift for this area of writing at all, and nothing I write is made well for performance. What I write belongs only to the page, it feels completely wrong to say them out loud. Out loud does not work for me at all and makes me want to find the neck of my poems and strangle them with their own pink panther indulged ridiculous tie.
Others performed well, she also performed a piece and was very good - as she should be. I can admire why people do such, but that is as far as it will ever go. I will never enjoy performance poetry unless it is funny. What I really don't like about performance poetry after we watched some famous performance poets is the amount of political propaganda involved. It would be fine if there were facts for all that is said - otherwise a lot of the time it is a bunch of hateful gibberish that makes me want to close off my ears and go listen to a seminar from an 87 year old man that speaks like a desert wind.
This form does not inspire me as it does others. Once I went to a club in the city and saw some performance poets, some were good, some funny. But in general they remind me of lunatics. I have never seen so many people in socks and sandals and jeans - makes you wonder what goes on in their heads up there.
Oh, I am not having a go at anyone, as I do believe some are very good and entertaining and some can hit the right note - but only a few. I will stick to comedians, as performance poets are halfway there - might as well go the whole way.
But it was a very good lesson and I learnt a lot. I am not easily persuaded. Honestly I have been doing poetry all year and would rather write and 10,000 word story than a ten line poem. Poetry isn't my thing, and performance poetry is far from it.
On Writing with Sue Orr
This was a very helpful class as it was directed at motivation more than anything else. That is what I received out of the lesson. Most writers (except Stephen King and his minimal 6 hours a day) struggle to slide the ink onto the page and just write. I myself have had extraordinary trouble trying to achieve this.
Distraction was a major area she covered, as she has found the the modern world of nothingness is a huge distraction - such as facebook and mobile phones and television. It all clocks in the hours that we could do useful things with. I know for me I clock in too many hours on this kind of garbage - Procrastination 101.
She settles herself away in a techno free cottage, where she has nothing to do but write - not to mention she is also inspired by the serenity of her surroundings. I on the other hand don't have anywhere like this. In fact I don't even have a table to write on - just a bed and my laptop - a very uncomfortable one at that. Writing can be achy. One thing that she achieved is peace and quiet. Which is what i desperately need, or I can't concentrate, as the mind is too ablaze with too much input. Night writing I can do, but it is a bit loopy, and not always the best sort of writing.
Self pressure is one of the worst things that writers put upon themselves - as every writer has to get over themselves, which is hard especially when you are extremely critical of yourself. It is just push as there seems to be no miracle cure. The best way is to set yourself up with a goal per day. E.g. she aims for a thousand words a day. Eventually she gets there. I did this same thing once, and it worked - became a habit - then i got distracted - that became a habit - it lasted one week.
The moral of the lesson is just to believe in yourself - slap yourself in the face more times than many - and write much more than much.
Distraction was a major area she covered, as she has found the the modern world of nothingness is a huge distraction - such as facebook and mobile phones and television. It all clocks in the hours that we could do useful things with. I know for me I clock in too many hours on this kind of garbage - Procrastination 101.
She settles herself away in a techno free cottage, where she has nothing to do but write - not to mention she is also inspired by the serenity of her surroundings. I on the other hand don't have anywhere like this. In fact I don't even have a table to write on - just a bed and my laptop - a very uncomfortable one at that. Writing can be achy. One thing that she achieved is peace and quiet. Which is what i desperately need, or I can't concentrate, as the mind is too ablaze with too much input. Night writing I can do, but it is a bit loopy, and not always the best sort of writing.
Self pressure is one of the worst things that writers put upon themselves - as every writer has to get over themselves, which is hard especially when you are extremely critical of yourself. It is just push as there seems to be no miracle cure. The best way is to set yourself up with a goal per day. E.g. she aims for a thousand words a day. Eventually she gets there. I did this same thing once, and it worked - became a habit - then i got distracted - that became a habit - it lasted one week.
The moral of the lesson is just to believe in yourself - slap yourself in the face more times than many - and write much more than much.
A visit from Louise Tu'u.
On this day in 2012 a playwright visited our class. She loved her field. And had a lot of passion, to the point where she went and acted as a homeless person in Auckland to investigate what it was like on the streets, so that she could write a play about I. That is dedication. It touched people rather deep with what she conquered with the homeless and needy. At times it was humorous, as her natural bone is full of it. She is quite the character indeed. I did enjoy her persona.
Though I can not see the point of her endeavors. It boils down to the natural angle that South Auckland Kiwi's perspect life. Seems to be common themes flowing through their veins. The culture of the place inherits through the art of those within, whereby I suggest that it is hard to ignore the instinctive patterns that have been sewn through the Southern cobweb.
It took me a while to realize what the video was about, as I didn't recognize the dances being related at all. Clicked in eventually. I guess I was looking from another perspective over the obvious one.
Sacrifices have to made, she has made many I am sure. To direct at such a minute audience must be a challenge, especially when it targets those that would come with a greater understanding of what is trying to be portrayed. I take my hat off to her for that. Maybe one day she will break away and target a larger audience. Win a Tony or two. At least she loves what she is doing.
Though I can not see the point of her endeavors. It boils down to the natural angle that South Auckland Kiwi's perspect life. Seems to be common themes flowing through their veins. The culture of the place inherits through the art of those within, whereby I suggest that it is hard to ignore the instinctive patterns that have been sewn through the Southern cobweb.
It took me a while to realize what the video was about, as I didn't recognize the dances being related at all. Clicked in eventually. I guess I was looking from another perspective over the obvious one.
Sacrifices have to made, she has made many I am sure. To direct at such a minute audience must be a challenge, especially when it targets those that would come with a greater understanding of what is trying to be portrayed. I take my hat off to her for that. Maybe one day she will break away and target a larger audience. Win a Tony or two. At least she loves what she is doing.
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