We're Going. On A Holiday.

I have 60 hours on prime beachfront,

40 DVD's,

3 books,

it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses.






Hit it.

Dogs Are The Best People

I ended up going 'out' again tonight (in my defence, there was a specific occasion to which I was going). For all intents and purposes it was the same old script as it's always been at any given club; young things in their identical outfits, drinking too much. Young bucks decked out in the latest metrosexual gear (which seems to come with standard issue white leather shoes these days) also drinking too much. Both species fumbling about trying to get the attention of the other, in a vain but somehow strangely appealing attempt to make themselves feel better about who they are.

As I sat inside this club, trying to find something interesting to focus attention on, I noticed there was a dog on the footpath outside. He had a collar on so was clearly not a stray, but there was no sign of his owner anywhere. He seemed content enough just hanging out. I actually got the impression he was waiting for somone to return. A few people stopped to pet him. One idiot picked the poor thing up and held him aloft (in what was no doubt an attempt to impress a female, which, sadly, no doubt worked), then eventually the dog found a stick from the garden with which to play fetch.

To say this dog was infatuated with the stick would in no way do justice to how he clearly felt about playing fetch. He was absoutely beside himself whenever someone was willing to play. And he never grew tired of playing. A few different people obliged him in the game, but he really didn't seem to care who was playing with him, just so long as someone was.
There was one couple who refused to play with him. Everytime he dropped the stick at their feet they would shuffle awkwardly to the side and try to ignore him. He'd look up at them expantantly a few times, then pick up the stick and walk over to where they'd shuffled and drop it at their feet again, as if to say "I don't understand why you keep moving away from my stick-just pick it up and throw the freakin' thing".

If someone were to ask me what the definition of ecstacy is, I would use that dog as explanation. It was absolutely pure bliss in motion.

At some point in time I found myself wondering if he'd had anything to eat or drink and where he'd sleep tonight, but for the most part I had a smile beaming from ear to ear watching him play.

I looked at that dog, playing with reckless abandon and absolute euphoria, all the while not caring that anyone could see how much he wanted to play and how much he loved doing it.

I looked and thought "Yeah. Break me off some of that".

Love In The Time Of Binary

I think I could well be in love with a girl, and it's based solely on her blog.

Every now and then I look through friends blogs and read the comments on their posts, and if there's any with an interesting username I'll click on their blog link and check it out. A couple of weeks ago whilst engaging in this exact activity, I stumbled across a blog so succinct, so intelligent, pithy, irreverent and down right amusing that I was instantly smitten.

There's only 3 degrees of seperation between her and me, thought I will never know what she looks like, much less meet her. I don't know why, but I think the fact that something as stupid as a blog is responsible for envoking such feelings is just so.... cool.

Does that make me a geek, an idiot or a hopeless romantic?

I guess it's nice to have options either way.

Don't Pat Yourself On The Back, You Might Break Your Spine.

I've been having some nourishing conversations with a very good, highly regarded female friend of mine lately (she's one of the few who'll tell you the unabridged truth). Just recently I was quizzing her on the whole 'Chicks Dig Jerks' phenomenon, as it continues to fascinate and frustrate the absolute living shit out of me.

She hypothesises that the concept of women liking men who treat them poorly (and I've had 2 other female friends fully admit that the concept is true) is a relatively new concept, in that it's only developed over the last 20 years or so, and is therefore a generational problem.

She could well be right, though of course if you think about it rationally/realistically/cynically, you couldn't be so naive as to think that it's only been in the last 20 years that 'nice guys' have finished last.

Regardless, I want to believe that it is a generational thing, as that means that it will eventually pass, but the fact of the matter is if you're a 20-30 something genuine nice guy, you're fucked either way.

No Signal

I'm not proud of how much I suck at reading signals and seeing signs. In fact, I'd do pretty much anything to get better at it (any suggestions let me know). Seriously. Did I miss a meeting? What the bloody hell is going on?? There's a vital ingredient missing, I'm sure of it.

What the fuck Chuck? What the what the fuck's up?

Everybody's Good At Something

Don't ask me why this is so cool.

It's Arrested Development

Michael (father) : What do you think of when you hear the words 'Sudden Valley'

George-Michael (son) : Salad dressing I think. But for some reason I don't want to eat it.

Michael : Right. But 'Paradise Gardens'?

George-Michael : Yeah OK. OK, I can see marinating a chicken in that.

R.N.D.

I've got a bit of a case of the "I Just Don't Know Anymore"'s tonight.

I understand and acknowledge that is quite the cliche, and that it implies that at some prior stage I did know, something, at least (a claim I am far too self-deprecating to make). That said, it seems that 10 years ago I was much more self-assured, and even assured in general that it was all gonna be OK.

Now, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that the reason you feel like you know what's going when you're young can generally be attributed to the fact that you and your life are so far removed from what is actually going on that your brain can't compute the true nature of it all, but I mean really, I'm not that old, and this current state is getting beyond a joke.

I had dinner with a dear friend last night, who as it turns out, stands at a similar crossroads to me, and just as stagnantly too. She theorises that there's quite a lot of us in the same boat, it's just no one likes to talk about it, if for no other reason than it's so fucking petrifying.

Call me an aging sentimental fool, but when you're standing at the crossroads and there's no traffic in sight, it's comforting to know that a little ways behind you someone else is looking in all directions, and they can't see shit either.

January 1st, 2007.

There's always a lot of (generally banal) talk around this time of year about resolutions and the like. For the most part, I think it's a load of malarky.
This year I'm taking a leaf out of Daniel Kitson's book and rather than making resolutions, I'm drawing a few lines in the sand. In a nutshell, his idea was that there comes a time when you have to draw a line in the sand in terms of the things you'll accept, things you'll stand up for and things you think should be. And it doesn't matter if the line shifts, in fact, it's probably good that it does, just so long as you're drawing them.

The biggest line I'm drawing isn't so much a stance against anything, more of a limitation to things I used to do to myself. I'm being deliberately vague here for 2 reasons. 1) it's a highly personal thing and I'm not sure it should be shared in public domain and 2) I am not entirely sure how to define it. Regardless, I'm going to give it a go and hopefully it will work.

I find that the 31st of December always sees me remembering where I was at the exact same time the previous year. It's always staggering to look back at the things that have have happened, in any given year really, and think that this time last year I had no idea most of it would occur. I dunno. I think that's kind of cool.

Usually it gets me thinking about the lessons I've learnt. It's funny how it takes a specific date to conjure up that reflection, but at the time you don't sit back and think "I have just learnt an important lesson". I learnt a big one last year (one that now seems so stupifyingly obvious I cant help but feel a little more thick, as most intelligent people probably learnt it early on). I only hope that I can keep it in mind as this year unfolds. At this exact point in time, I am having my doubts.

I have to admit I like the clean slate feeling that the 1st of January brings. There's a real element of 'anything is possible' in the air, and it usually hangs around until about April. It's not that opportunity stops once April hits, it's just that up until then the year is largely undefined. What am I trying to say? I don't know what I'm trying to say.

It's January 1st 2007.

I'm doing my best to not fall into the patterns I set during 2006.

I am the King of Dirk this year.

Can't wait to see how this one pans out.