Tag Archives: Zen

What?

By the time you read this, i hope a title will have occurred to me. Right now, it’s like someone scooped out my brain and replaced it with blancmange (a wobbly milk dessert). Nothing as on-trend as pannacotta, not in my head.

After surgery, i took home several infections. So my brain-deadery (it’s a word, at least MY mind says so) can be blamed on 8+ weeks of antibiotics and other pills, illness, and sodding convalescence. According to the surgeons (who i haven’t seen since 24 hours after my op 8 weeks ago) convalescence might take 3-4 months. Or more.

I’m sleeping ridiculous amounts of time round the clock – assuming one sleeps 8 hours a night, that leaves 16 hours to fit the rest of your life in – i am trying to fit a normal waking life into about 5 hours, during which time i have breakfast before going to  the doctor, the shops, whatever else needs doing.

I crawl home, fall back to sleep for 3 hours, up for the evening, (when i sort a meal, crash in front of the tv, unable to even focus on a book, let alone editing or the quickwittery of Twitter – yes, that’s a word too, i swear), then to bed for 10-12 hours and the cycle starts again. I don’t know if it’s worse because of my Chronic Fatigue, or normal, but it sucks.

Trying to edit Book 3, I’ve been hampered slightly by the brain-deadery, unable to remember either of the other two books with any kind of clarity. Hell, I can’t remember the previous page. Yeah, this is part of getting better, but it’s driving me nuts. Then Mr Whatsit got a stomach bug and so did i. Two weeks later, we think we’re finally safe more than a quick dash away from a loo.

Did i mention i was supposed to move house before this happened? My house is chaotic (but organised, i have lists!), and full of packed stuff, packing boxes and material for packing, because the lease ended and we were getting ready to move. So moving is next. I can’t do it yet (i still can’t lift much or drive – well, i can try, but pain is a good reminder of my limits), but depending on how nice the landlord is as the year goes on, i may find i just have to start packing.

This week’s been fun. I put my back out, (no idea how) and it’s been heatpacks, liniment, and back on the walking stick indoors. Trying to move at all is almost impossible. (So it’s past lucky that i’m finally over the stomach bug.) I’ve finally finished the antibiotics, and fingers crossed, no more.

Despite the back, I’ve been able to do a bit of exercise on my little X-trainer, down from the 4 kilometres i was doing before the op to 400m at a time (from 2 1/2 miles at a time, to 1/4 of a mile) – which despite being really hard, it does feel so good just to be a little active again.

When i think about it, life is on the up.

copyright 2016 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Expectations

Note, that’s not great expectations. So i had some abdominal surgery (i’m fine, they got the cancer before the bastard developed properly, so we think i’m alright) and i thought cool, i’m alive, and it was all laparoscopic (keyhole surgery x4) so easier on my bod. They kicked me out of hospital just 24 hours after surgery, which was fine, i was high as a kite and thought yes, home! Begin the recovery! And i can finish my editing, maybe even put the books out.

Oh dear. After two weeks of enforced DO NOTHING (enforced by Mr Whatsit, who has been like a recuperation nazi, stopping me from hurting myself, i’m now at the “carefully do tiny things and watch out because you are going to hurt” stage. I can’t lift anything heavier than a kettle (lifting this laptop is beyond my strength). I can close the garage door (thank you gravity), i can’t open it (damn you gravity!). Doesn’t matter, i can’t drive yet anyway. Standing is a short term event, walking likewise.

A new high-seated stool was necessary for the kitchen, or i couldn’t have even made toast. I’ve been more concerned with keeping my bowels moving (we’d like to thank psyllium husk, senna, and an initial diet of mostly fruit) and stopping taking the most awful drug i’ve ever taken – endone, or as it’s known on the street, oxycodone. Disgusting, and nowhere near the fun it’s made out to be.

I came off it as soon as i dared, after only 4 days – i was on anti nausea drugs to stop simply throwing up 24/7. With my doctor’s knowledge, I went back onto the drug most pharmacists get hysterical over, codeine (low dose), and immediately felt better. Within a few days I even stopped hallucinating from the oxycodone.

Mr Whatsit has been a great help, and i can’t really blame him for the toe. Yeah, middle of the night, i got up, remembered Mr W saying, TAKE YOUR WALKING STICK EVERYWHERE so grabbed it (i was very wobbly on my feet, still am). I made it out of the bedroom, then managed to put my walking stick in front of me, walk into it, and break the middle toe on my right foot.

There was much loud swearing and throwing of walking sticks. Mr Whatsit came to see what was happening and didn’t laugh hardly at all, (and fielded the darn walking stick). The toe was very definitely broken, i could feel the bits grinding together.

On the bright side, i was sick enough that sitting quietly with my foot up was no privation.

Yeah, the books are delayed. Life, it’s a weird place. I suggest you don’t make plans.

copyright 2016 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com

 


I can’t tell you that…

I’m going against my natural instincts. They are never to share. Blogging is so freaking alien. I was born in 1960, missed being Gen X, made it into the Baby Boomer generation by literally 8 weeks, but sometimes think i am a sekrit 1930’s gel who’s been trained to keep the real shit to myself.

When i told a friend i’d been offline (this was a few years ago) because i was depressed and didn’t feel like inflicting my real life downer on my virtual community. He was SHOCKED. He’s decades younger than me, and told me straight up, i should have said something online. I loved him for his concern but tell everyone i was depressed? Pht. Or perhaps ffft. Not sure of the spelling there, but take it as an expression of disbelief.

Every time i see that “ruok” anti-suicide campaign, where you say to someone who might be depressed, “are you ok?” and they are so grateful they don’t open their veins/OD/jump off the nearest cliff, but instead say “well actually i’m totes depressed and ready to like, pinterest my suicide plans but yr concern means i am now ready to live again!” i feel like laughing. I was relieved to see a few other pplz also saying, gawd, anyone realise really depressed pplz lie??” Yes, you can tell by my overuse of Z that i’ve been back on Twitter.

However, i can understand that for other people, opening your veins in a figurative sense on social media is a way to ease that feeling of aloneness. I wish that worked for me when i’m depressed. So if you’re like me, and people offering sympathy/feelingz makes you want to run away, smiling brightly all the time, not because you don’t appreciate their concern, but because nothing stops the fucking pain… perhaps see a psychologist (because that DID work for me). Continue reading


Sorry, Forgot You Were There…

I did mutter something on Twitter about delaying publication, but it’s not really enough. So, here’s the thing. Due to circumstances beyond my control, Book 2 was delayed. I was ready to publish, edits done.

The time while i waited gave me thinking space.

****

Book 2 is now not going to be released until i finish Book 3. Book 2 is complete, the Beta Readers loved it. No doubt I’ll do another edit, but due to those circumstances i couldn’t control, I was going to have to delay the release.

Book 2 took longer than I thought, about nine months, and I had a lot written to start with. It’s really good though, I’m glad I took the time. I hadn’t announced a publication date, wary of possibly having to change it, but was planning to release the book mid-April, and people did know I was close to publication, so figure I need to let them know I’m now finishing the trilogy first.

I’m learning from experience, at least in places. Book 1 suffered from a lack of promotion. The sales figures speak for themselves. It has only sold when I had time to promote it, despite being in the 10 top-rated books on Smashwords for nearly 12 months, and with a free sample (20% of the book) for anyone to look at.

I didn’t have time for promotions, being busy writing Book 2. Something for those self-publishing to remember, you really are doing everything yourself. I’ve decided I need time to promote the trilogy properly. I had already said to a number of people that I was glad that I self-published, but that it would have been easier if I’d resisted the pressure to put Book 1 out, and instead got the trilogy done first.

In my defence, I was planning a paper edition only a month before publication, which would have been easier, as being epublished (with no paper version) meant being in the forefront of a new publishing paradigm. Because i’d been planning for paper publication, being shafted that time (the person who was going to invest in me was just messing with my head for fun) meant when it all blew up, i was actually adrift without a plan at all.

For a while there I wasn’t sure epublishing would catch on, but fortunately for me, the Kindle and other ereaders have become commonplace. In the meantime, I’ll be re-releasing Book 1 – The Birthday Dragon – after a last run-through to remove stubborn typo’s. It will be Edition 4. Am sure I’ll get it right eventually.

Polo Shawcross wishes for a new life, but the Birthday Dragon brings a ghost who says he’s not one, a best friend who thinks he’s gay, and a very bad reputation. Polo’s crazy extended family keep trying to kill him, and he becomes an unwilling party to treason. Nanny Black says he’s like the goddess of death with testicles. Despite this, he’s considered a fine companion for the heir to the throne.

Nobody has noticed that the Crown Prince is in love with Polo or that the half-brother with the eating disorder is trying to kill him, and Mother’s still in denial over Father’s alcoholism. Polo doesn’t know where he fits in, but discovers that shapechanging is harder than it looks.

Adventure with more than one twist, set in a vivid new world where Men might be Dragons.

The story hasn’t changed, the editing is just a little more coherent, and there are fewer typos. The sheep are still suicidal and Polo Shawcross still has the kind of appeal he’s quite happy to take full advantage of. He still ends up escaping the farm, getting tangled in the machinations around the throne, and learning about the sexual possibilities of vegetables from the wife of the Kavar ambassador.

Thanks to all the people who encouraged and assisted me in getting The Thing this far. It’s called The Thing because it’s part of this Thing. It’s huge, I’ve been writing in this universe for over a decade, learning about it.

Always, at the birth of the Dragon Kingdom, there was a hero.  I couldn’t help wondering, what was he really like? The man from the songs and the legends, the man who united Theus. And so, I sat down with Polo Shawcross and his journals, and began to take notes.

****

My sincere apologies to those lovely people waiting. I have no new publication date other than I’m hoping to get it done this year. I’m not starting from scratch with Book 3, but I may not make it inside 2012.

Thanks for your patience.

copyright 2012 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


In celebration of our incredible good fortune…

I’d been waiting for them to come and arrest me or something after i published my book, The Birthday Dragon (The Journals of Polo Shawcross). Instead, @Tweet_Fail must be on drugs too, because she liked it.

Yes, someone’s finished it. And twelve other people bought it. I’m shocked. @Tweet_Fail liked it a lot. More beautiful words were said in private that left me fluffy for ages, and still make me glow when i think about them. People keep doing this – liking my writing – it’s lovely, but shocking.

The hero of my book, Polo Shawcross, (also my pen-name) would tell you that one must never be shocked. You can be surprised, but to be shocked marks you as an ingenue.

He learned this from an older woman during a long coach ride. Which you can read about for free, as it’s part of the 20%  free to sample  (about 25,000 words, enough for a decent commute) on Smashwords. If you want to read further, the whole book is $4.99.

But wait, there’s more…ahem… *waits until you look up from your phone* Yes, a competition. The voices-outside-my-head think it’s a good idea.

In similar fashion, they signed me up to something else i think is rather excellent, which i don’t have full details about yet, but it’s to give free ebooks to soldiers from all allied forces serving overseas, which i think is a nice gesture.  I’ll post more details when i have them.

Meanwhile, the competition.  Easy peasy.

Leave a comment answering these questions…

  1. What’s the name of the hero of my book? Hint: Also my pen-name.
  2. What’s the book called?

I’ll figure a way of randomly selecting two lucky winners.

Competition closes on Saturday midnight my time – which means as we’re in the future here in Oz, it will close Friday USA time. Or as the most excellent  timeanddate.com tells me…

The World Clock Meeting Planner – Details

These are the corresponding times for your meeting:

Location Local time Time zone UTC offset
Sydney (Australia – New South Wales) Sunday, 12 June 2011 at 00:00:00 EST UTC+10 hours
London (U.K. – England) Saturday, 11 June 2011 at 15:00:00 BST UTC+1 hour
New York (U.S.A. – New York) Saturday, 11 June 2011 at 10:00:00 EDT UTC-4 hours
Auckland (New Zealand) Sunday, 12 June 2011 at 02:00:00 NZST UTC+12 hours
Corresponding UTC (GMT) Saturday, 11 June 2011 at 14:00:00

The winners will be drawn at random to win a ebook copy of the book – downloadable from Smashwords.

It has to be approved (still a couple of weeks away) before it goes into the Apple Store, or onto Amazon, Barnes&Noble, etc, but you can download in any format from Smashwords now. Or have a look at the free sample.

****

And then @Tweet_Fail (Barbara Bailey) did her review.  I am officially blown away.

Review by: Barbara Bailey on Jun. 09, 2011 : star star star star star
My favorite writers: Terry Pratchett, Connie Willis, and now, Polo Shawcross. This first book in what I anticipate will be an exciting thrill-ride of a series left me hungry for more.

Trouble seems to follow Polo, hide in the shadows, and catch him by surprise, often because of his inability to keep his mouth, and trousers, zipped.

The story is as believable as it is fantastic. The writer deftly spins humor in the most unlikely of places, shocked, horrified, and thrilled me regularly throughout. No matter what trouble awaits Polo, how spoiled or self-centered he seems, or how often I wanted to reach through the pages to smack some sense into him, he’s a genuinely good kid, and a very likeable one.

The mark of a good writer is the gamut of emotions they are able to evoke in the reader. I loved some characters, genuinely hated others, laughed out loud, got teary-eyed, and gasped in surprise; so engrossed in the book that I couldn’t put it down.

A posh life of luxury and power awaits Polo. I can’t wait to read the next book, and the entire series, to see if he can stay out of trouble (and alive!) long enough to reap his rewards.”

I’m just blissed…

You did see the stars, eh? 😀  star star star star star

And two more people went and bought the book.

Baby I’m amazed, as the Beatles might say.

Copyright 2011 https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


I’m going to peel and salt Justin Bieber…

I’m going to be nice for a whole post. Stop laughing. I can do it. Alright, i probably can’t. So i’ll let the voices-outside-my-head do a post and i can go back to editing The Thing. (I’m two-thirds through the edit, for those following that thrilling saga.)

The last time the voices-outside-my-head did a post, it was New Year and i was going through my usual dislocated why-doesn’t-the-weather-match-the-Christmas-cards annual fugue, and the voices wished you joy in your life. I said you shouldn’t be fucktards. Both good bits of advice.

****

Life can be an awful experience. No doubt about it. Bad things happen to good people and to bad ones, with no regard to who deserves it. No use getting stressed over it. Stress releases cholesterol into your blood stream, and it’s a fatty gunk that coats your arteries, and eventually blocks them. Use the energy to do something about what’s stressing you, but don’t just sit there.

It’s part of the old fight-or-flight-or-bugger-them-with-a-cactus reflex. The idea is you’ll burn that fat wielding your Cactus of Justice, or running away. If all you do is sit on your arse and shout, the way I do a lot, you’ll end up with high blood pressure, because your cloggy arteries are too small for the blood flow and your heart is over-worked. Oops, you just stroked out. (I’m not sure the voices should have let me type this, it’s much more cranky than they intended.)

Now, i don’t have high blood pressure, or high cholesterol, (any more), because i stopped worrying and learned to take joy in the moment. It’s not a permanent state, but it’s enough of the time that even with the extra weight i’m carrying, and my perpetual raging at the machine (on here and on Twitter), I’m not risking my life because i care.

Joy is where you find it. Watching nature, walking, cooking, making things, doing that perfect spreadsheet and knowing you’re going to make it financially through another month. Okay, so i’m not sure anyone but me gets that last one, but i totally love that feeling of being in the moment – i can get it washing up.

The big thing about the moment? Your brain is ostensibly off. You’re completely focused on the task in hand, even if that’s as simple as admiring the feather on a bird’s wing or that algebra formula.

You might be using your brain, focusing on some job, and the work might be hard, but you know you’re on the way to a goal, so it’s fine. And everything switches off. All worry, all care, all of it. You keep going, doing good work.

You come to, some time later. And often the solutions to problems are right there, as your ostensibly switched-off brain nutted out the answers while you were cleaning the silver.

We repeat. The word ‘enjoy’ means ‘with joy’ – so enjoy your life. Have it with joy. What else are you going to do with it? If you don’t like it, for most of us in the Western world at least, there are other solutions, like changing it.

You thought i was going to say ‘then top yourself if you don’t like it here’? Honestly, I’m the Antichrist, not a jingoistic right wing Earth patriot. I can imagine us in the future, snapping at alien immigrants the way the nasty little one nation types do. “If you don’t like this planet, then get off it!”

****

That’s all, i can’t stand it. It goes against the grain, being nice. What with me being the Queen of Darkness and proxy Antichrist. New readers may be wondering how i got to be the Antichrist, and all i’m saying is that even the Antichrist turned out to respond to a good clout across the earhole with a walking stick, and is still in a coma. I have his passwords. Nuff said.

As for being the Queen of Darkness, that’s a much older story – when i used to be in a band, i was shouting about something i’d read about Christian fundamentalists, and said, “They’re so sure they’re on the side of Light. If that’s Light, then i’m the Queen of Darkness.” (Originally there was swearing, because it’s the only language muso’s understand.)

That was nearly 20 years ago, old news. The Antichrist gig is fairly new. But hey, i’m told i get to peel and salt the emos, and i can do what i like with Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. At the moment, i’m edging towards using the Gleaming Instruments of Death, but maybe the Cactus of Justice would do the trick.

Oh come on, who doesn’t want to torture Justin Bieber to death? Just for the fringe, people! Just for the fringe!As for Lady Gaga, well seriously, does anyone neeed a reason? Her whole schtick of pseudo-vulnerability wrapped in emo pouting deserves divine retribution.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Zen in the New Year…

Life goes on. Even for the Antichrist. Bought a tiny birdbath, ($35 for a terracotta one from Bunnings? Even i can afford that). Being treated to all kinds of parrot-play.

On hot days, i’ll top it up a few times, as they queue up to drink and swim, while the ones who can’t get in play in what’s splashed out. What, the Antichrist can’t have a birdbath?

A pair of lorikeets having a dipI did put that pic up on Twitpic a couple of weeks ago. It’s taken through the glass of the back wall, next to my desk. Should have had it on Sports, that’s just Through Glass – trusty Olympus Stylus 840 did well. I have a fantastic view usually, but since the birdbath it’s even better.

The lorikeets are just like people. Some don’t like getting their heads wet, others are afraid to let go of the edge. Some are like Aqua Parrot, dive in, soaking themselves, splashing, standing on their heads, and then flapping their wings in a rainbow ecstasy of joy. They all, no matter how wet they get, just love it. It’s hard not to get distracted.

Still, i figure it’s good to take a moment, observe joy, and hold it close to your heart. Let it fill you, and then share it with the world. Barring serious chemical imbalances, you always have a choice – to choose misery, or happiness.

I personally believe that choosing misery often enough means you can cause the chemical imbalances. I’ve seen too many people do it over the years. Choose to be happy, instead.

May joy find you in 2010.

****

This post brought to you (so far) by the voices-outside-my-head, who are much nicer than moi. Me, for 2010, i hope you stop being a fucktard. That would be nice.

I hope you stop pretending politicians, the news, TV, the media generally, your religious leaders, and the people trying to sell you things, won’t lie to you. I don’t lie to you, but then i don’t need your vote, or your arse on a seat in the congregation – you see, that’s what the AK47’s are for.

I hope you start reading labels, and don’t fall for crap like “eco-friendly” when it’s made of polyurethane, or other petroleum derivatives. (Yes, i’m looking at you, supermarket “green” bag.)

Don’t believe “low GI” or “low fat” can be good for you, or your kids, when the product is 50% sugar. (Yes, chocolate hazelnut spread, kids’ chocolate cereals, and chocolate malt ‘energy drink’ marketed as low GI food for kiddies, i’m looking at you. )

Pay attention to words, dear Minions of Darkness Beloved Visitors. That’s where the meaning is, no matter what the litcrit crazies tell you. I hope you learn the difference between marketing and truth. Hint: one is not actually true.

Oh yeah, and i hope you have a good time. Choose fun. Tell anyone who asks, the Queen of Darkness made you do it. She’s the Antichrist, you can explain, and it lays the groundwork for your defence on insanity grounds. (And mine.)

Yep, providing the real Antichrist doesn’t come out of the coma before the Rapture, (and he won’t once i tap him on the head with a good length of heavy hickory), we’re set.

2010 is going to be an excellent year.

© https://stinginthetail.wordpress.com


You never write…

Yeah, i have been thinking of you. It’s just that when i said back in March we wanted to move, i didn’t expect it to take so long. Just deleted the fourth new post i’ve tried to write lately. They didn’t sound right. I’m not a journo, or a paid blogger, forced to churn out copy, and my blog hopefully doesn’t sound like it, but those posts did.

Anyway, back in early May, Mr Whatsit (whilst organising a possible source of moving-house funds, in the form of a forgotten part-year tax refund from 8 years ago) tried to get old paperwork out of a medical insurance company.

Here in Australia, if you don’t have medical insurance when you can afford it, (he was high up in a telecom company then, and could), you get a nasty tax penalty – which would be the whole amount of the refund. So to get his tax back, he has to prove he paid for insurance.

The company was scarily inept on the phone, (they let slip that Mr Whatsit’s ex still has the same postal address, for instance, plus other indiscretions), but they decided to be extra-careful of releasing any info, and said it had to go to legal.

Mr Whatsit was told at least 6-8 weeks, waited patiently, then was ill, so didn’t call back at 8 weeks. When he did call, at 11 weeks, was told, “Why hasn’t this been sent to you? It’s just sitting in the stack.” Nice lady put it in the post, it was here in one working day – by the end of July.

So now we can fill in some forms, and start waiting again. Which is one reason why i’ve not been into blogging. What’s the point? Absolutely nothing is happening.

In case you’re not clued up, it’s the bleak midwinter, southern hemispheric-ally speaking. That is, in the Land of Oz, it’s cold and drear… oh, but the sun is shining today.

And i’m tired of whining about being sick, so can only imagine how you lot feel. The flu is finally starting to let go a bit, but after one major relapse with it, i’m not going to tempt Fate, and say i’m over it.

Unfortunately, Mr Whatsit’s become very ill, and may need spinal surgery – nothing to do with the flu, except that coughing and sneezing may have set the whole thing off.

His doctor is being a prick, refusing to give us a referral back to Mr Whatsit’s neurosurgeon, (who operated where the pain is, so should be consulted), and saying we should wait for A FUCKING YEAR to get into a clinic in pain management up in Newcastle.

He doesn’t need freaking management from some hippy with Certificate II & III in Chronic Pain Management in a year, he needs to see his neurosurgeon NOW, or (without unfortunately, any exaggeration whatsoever), he’ll be on morphine in a week or so and in a fucking wheelchair before fucking Christmas!

Ahem – Mr Whatsit has had around 8 major spinal operations – amateurs do not get near him. Just touching him wrong could cripple him – his spine is fucked.  So we go back to doc, (and the government pays his fucking fee again) and this time, tell him to sign a freaking referral – no more asking nicely – or we will find someone else who will.

****************

I’ve tried to get into some other subjects – fashion, for one – but nothing worked. I nearly got a blog post out of the latest no-eyebrows look, (as seen in Balenciaga & Givenchy collections) but it went blah.

Yes, they look like the Vulcan/Klingon crosses on Star Trek, or maybe emos with Neanderthal tendencies, but I am lacking patience – trying to do a light, funny post on the idiocies of fashion victims wasn’t a good move.

Promoting death for fashion designers who make women look fugly probably isn’t legal. When it comes down to it, though i can still reach Zen, it’s been a rough winter.

So that’s why, though i can happily lock in for hours on my novel or dip for a few minutes in the happy splashfest of Twitter, writing a blog has been so hard.

Sorry, nothing left to be amusing with.

*******************

This blog’s never been particularly about my life on a day-to-day level, so it feels weird to be putting this here, but i am honest in these posts. (Hard to tell with the mad parts, but i am.)

But i guess you need to know why i’m not writing.

I’m too fucking worried.

***************

In other news, i may have found the funniest thing ever. Srsly. Extreme sheeps and the men who love them. (That’s a video link, which i don’t do usually, but it’s only just over 2 mins long.) The wonder of what happens when men are left alone with sheep.

Totally safe for ewe to put onscreen at work, and worth watching all the way to the end. I just love it – humans – so amazing.

(I didn’t actually find it – @Froosh posted it on Twitter.)

*******

Oh – and i’m completely undrugged…. which is shocking and accounts for part of my inability to show tolerance and kindness. I did sneak around Twitter doing good deeds and helping people this week. Nothing like a bit of voluntary work to help you forget your own problems.

How does one sneak? I was looking for things, and spotted people I wasn’t following who weren’t following me, asking questions or having problems, and helped them. I know, i know – it’s some kind of weird compulsion. White_wave even said

@stinginthetail OMG You are NOT the Antichrist! You are the first person to offer me honest-to-god roadside help that isn’t more exploitation!
3:55 PM Jul 26th
from web in reply to stinginthetail

That was so sweet. Sprung! Yes, we have become co-Tweeple.

**************

Well, i’m drug-free except the prescription ones that keep me alive – the mould in the house doesn’t agree with my heart, apparently, along with putting my body into a permanent state of extreme allergic reaction.

Straight sucks. How do people live like this?

The voices outside-my-head say we can endure.

So, we endure.

EDIT : some good news, the latest scans today (28th July 09) show Mr Whatsit’s spine is crap, but where he has the artificial disk (a piece of metal nestling rather close to his spinal cord) is apparently all fine. This is an incredible relief, as if it went wrong, a fused neck would be a good outcome, and a bad one was quadriplegia. He may still need surgery, but having been through 4 fusions and a disk replacement, pfft – this is something we can deal with.

NOTE: in case anyone thinks my drugfree state is me coming off some hard drugs, it’s not – i just have no painkillers – otherwise known as marijuana. Without it i have to rely on pharmaceutical painkillers – which don’t actually work half as well and are poisonous to my body –  for my own rather fucked up back.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


Take it like a man, son…

Rosellas (a small local parrot) look like God (or the lumpen-angel in charge of small birds for Australasia) thought budgies weren’t bright enough, so daubed their heads and chest with red, then decided the rest of the spectrum of their feathers had to be ramped up – bring on the electric yellow and acid green, oh yeah, baby!

How many shades of blue can i use? And let’s put a white spot near their eyes, to make them really stand out. I’ve got some red left over, it can go under the tail. Oh yes!

The black speckles on their backs, let’s make them out of a kind of black velour, that makes them look like they’re part-velvet painting. What was God on when he invented the Eastern Rosella? Whatever it was, it made something pretty.

Eastern Rosella  - Wikipedia Commons Image

Eastern Rosella - Wikipedia Commons Image

The reference is a joke – God, contrary to the edicts of the morally-corrupt minority, has a sense of humour, and i’m sure will not mind – seriously, please don’t pray for me any more, or i’ll have used up my prayers when i really need one.

Talking to God does not imply the owner of this blog completely believes in God, Satan, Heaven, Hell, etc etc, blah blah…. except in States where such a lottery is illegal. It’s just not as funny if i say “What was evolution thinking about?”

Especially because some ornithologist  – who happens to be passing this blog post, probably accidentally, looking for rosellas. The weird ornithologist says they evolved like that mostly for sexual reasons. And we’re back there again.

It’s mating season outside the window.  I feel like a parrot pervert, watching parrots make out. They’re so cute, and loving. And colourful. Rosellas are a minority, most of them are lorikeets, which are like a rainbow exploded.

http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3360/3224868366_c8dfac3e09_o.jpg

from OzJulian at Flickr

Down on the lake’s beach, a kind of Australian robin, with a speckled red breast, skim around insect-catching over the shallows . If you get close, like robins in the northern hemisphere, they come to see what you’re up to, hovering like honeyeaters at head-height.

Serene and so pretty, and the wankers who decided to run round the lakes several times on their hovercraft over the weekend were not welcome. I bet they think they’re so freaking green.

They were leaving a decent bow wave, only a metre or two from the shore, (that’s shore erosion right there), and were charging through shallows, in an area that’s a haven for birds and fish, usually never entered by boats (unless they run aground, in which case it’s great to watch.

We’re not being mean, just watching – anyone in serious trouble, we’d help, but the deepest part in front is only waist deep, they can walk to shore. It’s also full of diving birds, there for the fish that get trapped in the pools as the tide goes out.

Apparently hovercraft are driven only by complete wankers don’t have to obey normal regs, like keeping to the watercraft channels or speed limits, and they have petrol engines making enough noise to wake the freaking dead.

Though Mr Whatsit only grunted, because he had his earplugs in, it being the weekend, and round here they like to celebrate the weekend with Powertool Party Saturday, which nearly always ends up going into Mower Mardi Gras Sunday.

Once again, the longing for a decent sniper rifle overwhelms me. Put Kalashnikov in as a search word at the top of the page, and you’ll see how many times i was also longing for just a weapon, damn it! I curse Australia’s nambypamby gun laws, that mean i can’t just shoot people going past because they annoy me.

They wouldn’t do this to me in Texas! The Queen of Darkness would be allowed her Kalashnikov in a choice of colours. Of course, in the USA you need weapons to protect yourself from everyone else who also has weapons. I don’t actually want to be where everyone else has weapons,  I’m just looking for a clean kill, and am too lazy to learn to use a bow.

****************

Anyway, aside from that, this is my first ever “Poor Bastard of the Week Award.”  Logan Campbell, a New Zealand martial artist, who’s an Olympian in Taekwondo, has turned to prostitution to support his career, saying he’s tired of his parents supporting him – it cost them over 100k to send him to the last Olympics.

He competed in Beijing, did very well, (lost against the guy who won bronze, and was in top 16) and is preparing for London in 2011. He’s started a gentlemen’s escort service – legal in NZ – and you’d think well, that’s enough, isn’t it? Nobody goes into prostitution without thinking about it hard. But no.

“Taekwondo New Zealand (TNZ) was unenthusiastic about the move, saying it would be taken into account when considering him for international selection.

“Selection takes into account not just performance but also the athlete’s ability to serve as an example to the youth of the country,” TNZ funding manager John Scholfield told the newspaper.” Quote from Australian Broadcasting Corporation.

Read it and weep. There he is, trying to be a man, starting a legal business and he’s now being judged as not fit to be around children. They say ‘an example’ but we all know what Mr Scholfield means. It’s well-known that all sex workers are dangerous paedophiles, usually armed with axes  and bags of sweets, so this is a good thing.

(I couldn’t find a pic of a prostitute with an axe, but i looked for one.)

Wait, the voices outside-my-head say that this is not true! Apparently, most sex workers do it just as a freaking job! Phew! They aren’t actually sexually abusive to children! OMG.

Someone should tell Taekwondo New Zealand – who were happy to hang this guy out to dry and let him find his own funding – that not relying on his parents to pay for his life choices is actually a fine example for young people.

I’m not sure who’s in control of this post – it’s not me, i’m too drugged and overloaded with hormones to know which way is up. I’ve had two periods in just under three weeks. I thought i was both stressed and sick, (getting over the never-ending gastric flu and waiting until we can move house), but now i realise i’ve been also struggling under a hormone overload.

Lovely. And you wonder why i want a gun? Pfft. Of course it would be safe. I’m very safety-conscious. Besides, i wouldn’t be shooting at anyone, just suggesting targets, Mr Whatsit’s already a crack shot, makes sense to use him. Maybe we won’t have to kill them. If we wing a few, the others will try harder.

In the absence of guns, i’ll have to blow a giant raspberry across the Tasman to NZ, to John Scholfield and the rest of the nice people at Taekwondo New Zealand. I was going to make poor Logan Campbell some kind of prize, but fuck it, he’s making more than i am – 150k savings a year? Nice one, son. Even if it is only NZ dollars.

So, he’s making a good living, but he’s probably destroyed his chance of selection on the team, despite being able to be fitter, more prepared, less stressed, and more able to capitalise on his Olympic experience in Beijing. And they won’t pick him because he’s a man-whore. So, everyone together,  “You poor bastard!”

Interesting thought: a woman in same boat would also be denied a place on a team unless from somewhere very enlightened like maybe Denmark. It’s  not just New Zealand which gives mixed messages to its citizens. Legal but frowned upon.

Glad i don’t have kids to explain the hypocrisy to, because as an adult, all i can think of is well, don’t ever think that if you work in the sex industry you’re going to be able to tell most people what you do, and not be judged as less for it.

It’s not fair, or right, but it’s sure how it is.

© stinginthetail.wordpress.com


With zombies, u need to blow their heads off…

I wrote a cranky post about how Michael Jackson’s death circus was sickening me. I was wondering if, when Gary Glitter or OJ die, everyone was going to prance around saying things like…

“Aw, his mommy/daddy was mean/abusive/over-pushy to him, let’s forget about the nasty (a) child sex (b)  murders (c) the armed robbery that finally sent the SOB to gaol (d) moments when he bought his his way out of a court case.”

But it was too cranky. And might have got me sued, lol. Yes, this is the cleaned up version. What do you mean, you can’t tell? Feck, i’m on drugs, i’ll say that in my defence.

With the original post, by then, the drugs had kicked in, and i was no longer in quite such an evil mood. The Queen of Darkness had been in total control. Pain does awful things to my empathy chip.

Small children start to self-combust around me. It’s scenic, and looks great through the filter of the drugs i’m on, but people talk. Next thing i’m being shunned at the pharmacy like when i ran over those pensioners in my tank.

When the drugs kick in, the voices-outside-my-head – the compassionate, nice ones – take over, and I can even feel sorry for the freak and his still-travelling freakshow.

This is me, biting my tongue. And on enough drugs to no longer care. Seriously. This is someone else, who didn’t and wasn’t. But of course, they have a legal department, and besides, they’re part of the Murdoch Empire, so they end up in the category of Satan’s Minions and it’s quite alright if you want to go hate them.

You can hate me too if you like, but it won’t do any good either, i don’t like Michael Jackson – i didn’t when he was alive, and i’m not going to be a mealy-mouthed hypocrite and start acting like he was some kind of wonderful person.

I quite agreed with the article, but then i’m a monarchist anarchist, which is simultaneously so left wing and so right wing, that I sort of meet myself out the back somewhere, but in an attractive way – which is why you really need to vote for me as Queen of Darkness.

As the writer so eloquently points out – in regard to Michael Jackson – playing the victim doesn’t entitle you to abuse others.

(Look, i’m being nice, and paraphrasing things so you don’t have to go looking at links unless you want to. Yep, am completely wasted.)

***********

When i take a break during the day, (from the epic sci fi fantasy thing, which keeps morphing, so i won’t say any more than that, as already i don’t think it’s going to be a rite-de-passage story any more), my main source of amusement is Twitter.

It’s many other things as well as a laugh, including friendship, the opportunity to help others, (shh, i have these urges, i can’t help it – oh damn, now i’ve told you i have to kill you), and to both teach and learn – oh, and to make a right royal arse of myself, when i forget how many hyper-intelligent people are actually paying attention.

I like everyone in my list, or they wouldn’t be there. Some, i love to bits. A favourite tweep (or whatever the singular form of tweeple is), is @_SATAN_ . He’s playing the role so well, i find myself wanting to actually applaud.

_SATAN_ is in Australia, of course, because even the Kingdom of Darkness appreciates booze, sport, sunshine, and a social security safety net that includes healthcare. He’s in Victoria i believe, but @__God_ is in South Australia.

Which possibly explains __God_’s drinking problem, there are a lot of vineyards there. He seems to be falling apart lately.

__God_ Really people, who here hasn’t shat themselves after a few snifters? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

Turned out he was coming out as a sharter in a fabulous rant (over several more tweets) in support of a footballer who literally mistook a hotel corridor for a toilet.  __God_ only knows if he’s going to make it through the footy season. I mentioned that sharting was a sign of alcoholism.

(In the following examples, for those not familiar with Twitter, an @ sign means the post is directed to the person after the @.)

_God_ @stinginthetail daily binge drinker is the preferred terminology, thankyou

__God_ Poached salmon and bok choy in ginger broth. White tea. Someone please kill me now. I NEED SATURATED FAT AND ALCOHOL!!!

We may need to get _SATAN_ to do an intervention. Mind you, he’s  more likely to say something like this.

@_SATAN_ Who was it that said ‘everything in moderation?’ Ha! Moderation is for wimps and losers. You’re not a loser, now, are you?

He makes it all seem sensible. His conversations with other people are the most fascinating things, and it’s well worth following threads. _SATAN_  wouldn’t be the Bad Boy of Hell without Tweets like…

@_SATAN_ Now, if your girlfriend is being too demanding, why don’t you glass her? It’s the only way she’ll learn, dears..

Glassing – for those not familiar with the term – means smashing a glass in someone’s face. Yes, it’s horrible – he’s _SATAN_.

And in the Aussie news, another footballer was gaoled for eight months with good behaviour, after he glassed his girlfriend in the eye during an argument, then lied and said she’d fallen, changed his story and tried to blame it on his best mate, and then tried to argue that it wasn’t that bad because the doctors managed to sew her back together neatly.

Here in Australia, if there’s evidence of an assault, you don’t need a complainant to charge someone. (Oh yeah, _SATAN_ would be proud, she’s still with him.) It’s Australia in the winter – of course __God_ and _SATAN_ are football fans. They both get great replies...

ScotPThomas @_SATAN_ “Glass her”, o dark lord? Is there a recommended technique that I should use or should I just be creative?

And this…

Espimufin @_SATAN_ what if she’s not my girlfriend? can I glass her anyway?

I ended up following both those guys, they seem promising. (Erm, yes, they were being funny, i read their other tweets.) _SATAN_ and I had a nice conversation about sex toys and masturbation.

He’s preaching to the choir here. Of course, i’m not the only one with a Dark Kingdom passport…

ScotPThomas @_SATAN_ so how hard would it be, to like get in the top of the armies of hell? I mean, I’m already a member of the media. Good enough?

As _SATAN_ says…

_SATAN_ The Stones say “you can’t always get what you want”…well, I’m here to tell you that you can. All you need is a semi-automatic…

Well what have i been telling you? Yes, a man after my own heart. And yes, it does seem, as the lovely Tweet_Fail reminded me, when i said he was worth a follow…

Tweet_Fail @stinginthetail Nepotism: The AntiChrist and Queen of Darkness recommending @_Satan_ – Nice!

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