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Saturday May 30 2009 Raiding the Archives [ ] [ mood | tired ] [ music | Eight Days a Week - The Beatles ] After the realization (which occurred about twelve seconds ago) that I may be very close to forgetting how to write, I have formulated a plan. I don't mean I'm forgetting how to write persuasive, witty commentary -- you can't lose something you never had. What I mean is, I'm actually forgetting how to write in the quite literal sense; sentence formulation being at the base of it. I could blame the system. I could blame the government. I could blame this world (for making a good man evil). But I won't do that. I think mostly I'll blame my university degree. What with communicating entirely in either predicate calculus or clingfilm wrapped around a banana and painted orange with a shoehorn stuck in it to represent life itself, there hasn't been much room for the English language. So my plan is this: no one has to read this entry. I'm quite confident everyone will abide by those guidelines anyway. But what I am going to do (see? There I go, beginning a sentence with a conjunction. Damned amateur!) is raid the writer's block archives and provide a one-paragraph answer to as many as I can before I fall asleep at the wheel. Hopefully I'll slowly be able to maneuver my way back through the canyons and crags of the written word or, failing that, at least get in some good rocking spelling practise. First prompt: Robert Frost speculated about the world ending in fire or in ice. Which do you think is likely to end us all: meteorite, global warming, nuclear weapons, zombies, or the superflu? Thought I'd pick a nice cheery one to start things off. But then I didn't. My opinion has always been; none of the above. I'm no expert on the matter of the apocalypse, but it seems to me that with stars exploding all over the place and planets being destroyed, what gives Earth the right to think that it's exempt from the unbridled forces of the universe just because it sustains a bit of life on it? I am by no means qualified to have an opinion, but I think the universe is perfectly capable of destroying itself, thank you very much. Our friends don't always know us as well as they think, particularly when it comes to likes and dislikes. Which popular book, movie, band, food, TV show, etc. would your friends be surprised to hear that you don't like? My friends know very well which foods I don't like, but never cease to appear surprised. One of the great assaults on the taste-buds, in my opinion, is tomato sauce -- which obviously poses a problem, being that I've lived my entire life in New Zealand and never touched more than a rosebud of the stuff. I also don't like pasta or any other sort of food with a spaghettiesque structure. I don't like sushi, rice or baked beans. I don't like quiche or, indeed, anything which comprises itself almost wholly of a fluffy egg texture. I should stop now, before I get uninvited from all your dinner parties. To actually answer the question, though, I think my friends - those who I haven't already told - would be surprised to hear that I didn't like reading The DaVinci Code, nor do I (and this is where I really seal my fate), apart from a handful of songs, very much like Led Zeppelin as a whole. And (there I go again with the conjunctions) I really can't stand the Red Hot Chili Peppers. If you could live in any era of history, which one would you choose? I think I would have chosen, whilst being no historian, from the late 1950s-early 1960s onwards. I wouldn't want to go too far back, because then you've got hangings and witch-burning's to deal with knowing my luck. The middle of the 20th century seemed to have the most kick before mankind sort of tapered off into a dormant state for the turn of the milennium. People tried to get things done. I'm not saying they succeeded (clearly), but the spark of certainty that one was actually alive and functioning at a conscious level seemed not yet to have been entirely extinguished. Do you ever do anything now which you swore you would never do when you were younger? What is it? When I was nine, like every nine-year-old, I swore I would never like boys. I'm beginning, now, to move away from that way of thinking. It's Limerick Day! Share a favorite or compose your own humorous five-line poem with an AABBA structure. There once was a student from Auckland Who had to write a limerick in shorthand But couldn't think up Any aural link-up Or anything that rhymed with 'lemons'

Sunday May 24 2009 Based on true events [ ] [ mood | accomplished ] Looking down at the perfectly in-tact porcelain toilet on the side of the road, I knew there was only one place it would end up. I could feel the cogs turning, I wasn't making them turn. I simply could not walk past this unique opportunity without exercising the possibilities. Twenty minutes later, at half-past ten at night, I was running down the road with somebody else's toilet (seat and cistern included), helping my cousin load it into the back of my car, then driving off with it. I will favor you with a picture of my new desk-chair when I'm done cleaning it.

Saturday May 16 2009 Nice little bird in a nice little cage [ ] [ mood | accomplished ] [ music | Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks ] A photo from my latest University project, part of a set called 'The Era that Never Existed'.

Thursday May 7 2009 Something I didn't really plan on writing here or, indeed, anywhere [ ] I have a little story. Last Saturday, while making my rounds at work, I came across a group of three people I was fairly certain I had not yet slathered with fliers and false, greedy charm -- so I made my approach. Upon offering them a programme for the festival, they flashed their performers' passes and made clear that they were obviously quite familiar with a lot of the acts... especially considering they were some of them. I laughed good naturedly and made a comment about being embarrassed. They were very kind and said they were nice people and there was no need to be embarrassed. The fellow in the middle leaned forward to shake my hand and introduced himself; "I'm Rhys". Wanting to redeem myself a little bit -- and those are my famous last words in the highest sense of climatic irony -- I jumped on the first opportunity my meagre knowledge of working comedians threw at me, and tossed back "Rhys Darby?" You must understand that that was a very difficult and painful experience for me to recount. Not more than two seconds after the words rolled so messily off my tongue did I recoil inwardly, mentally deliver a swift kick to the head and say no more about it. This fellow had a wild, curly 'white-man's' afro which I later discovered could double as a mullet under the right conditions. Rhys Darby is a little ginger chap. More importantly, I know this. I also know he's not doing a show at the festival. The things the mind can make us do when it sees no other route of escape. Anyway, out of some weird guilt mixed with a need for redemption (you'd think I would have learned to lay off the idea of bouncing back from a bad one by now), tonight I went to see his show. Not Rhys Darby. The other Rhys. Turns out he is a Rhys of the Mathewson variety. His show was brilliant. Not only hilarious and clever, but he ended with a dance. I don't think I have ever seen such an awful dance performed so spectacularly. When his show was almost over, he stripped down to a lime green leotard with fluoroescent pink flared tights (which he had been wearing under his clothes for the entire duration of the hour and twenty) and performed a dance, with what can only be descibed as unbridled enthusiasm, to Footloose by Kenny Loggins. Indeed, it may very well turn out to be the best $18 I ever spent. ...oh, except that I didn't pay, I got in free with my crew pass. Darn, now I don't have a send-off line. Eh, screw it. (Note: Although this sort of thing is in my job description, I am currently off the clock, and am not being paid for this.)

Saturday May 2 2009 First shift for Comedy Festival tonight! [ ] [ mood | rushed ] [ music | Veteran of the Psychic Wars - Blue Oyster Cult ] My boss just called me up (yes, I have a boss now!) and asked if I could cover a shift for tonight. Whoop! I wasn't meant to have my first night until Friday but now I get to work almost a week earlier than I'd expected. However that does mean that I'm a button unprepared. I recently found out that it is actually in my job description that I need to be funny. Apparently it's alarming the amount of people that come up to you with things like "Oh, you're a comedian? Tell us a joke!". It's also no good to tell them you're not actually a comedian, you just work for comedians, because that's bound to lose you a door-sale. So we're expected to have some one-liners prepared. I'm working on mine now. I have written a few down from various websites as a backup just in case I can't think of anything. They're very funny. I don't think I can match that.

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