|
AussieAri's weblog
Edit this message to change the title of your weblog.
last modified Dec 22, 2001 at 22:31
There's a near deaf old cowboy arguing about his inter library loan at the front desk at the moment.
At least he's reading i suppose.
But it begs the question, WHY do i live here?
Still no luck finding a truck :( I have a sinus something or other that will not quit and an in house Jiu Jitsu tournament/belt ceremony tomorrow. gah.
Dear Snatchta..uh..sorry, my dyslexia there...
Dear Santa,
This year i've been very naught but i still think that...
You know what? forget it. If Cheryl doesn't get toys then i don't want em either.
-Ari
This is as good as Greenskeepers- Phillipino Phil. And here are a two others
Lesbian Death Dirge- The Meatmen
Henry Darger
Some of the fabulous sights of Texas as immortalized in a road kill screen saver with 365 different pictures. Available at discerning country gas stations in the Middle Of No Where, Texas.
The buzz about Vegansexuals.
Meanwhile, the subversion by Graffiti Research Lab grows.
What do you think about American concentration camps?
Ever have dreams about hunky mormon boys or seen the calender?
They should be my gay boyfriend.
Or just wisely choose to be a hedgehog.
You should get more fun underwear than you could possibly dirty in a life time.
Whoa mama daddyo!
My lip gloss is poppin'!
Screw it with some really expensive designer sex toys.
And if all else fails, mail them poop
It occurred to me a while ago that there may actually be a case for malpractice around my mother’s death. Her GP who she liked, trusted and went to for many years while whenever we were living in Dallas (ever since I was a toddler) never told her to get a colonoscopy. I liked this man too but for one bad suggestion I take birth control to cure my monster menstrual cramps which did not work out well for me. My mother did everything this doctor suggested for her health and did it regularly; paps, mammograms, etc. But he never even mentioned colonoscopies. This was in the mid to later 90’s when getting colonoscopy in people over 40 was normal, especially if you had any sort of a family history.
Now my mum had an Aunt that died of a ‘lump down there’. Keep in mind this in a time and place where they simply called it that. They weren’t going to get very specific and say ‘Anal vaginal tumor’ or ‘gross intestinal obstruction’ etc. Other than that there are no other instances that we know of of colon cancer in our family.
The fact she never got a colonoscopy did lead to her death. The tumor in her colon was 5 inches long which suggests it had been growing for at LEAST 5 years (up to 10 they estimated). This places the date of the latest possible start of the tumor at 2001. She was still seeing this doctor at that time as her main health care provider and would continue to see him for another year till my parents moved.
On her deathbed she was still cursing this doctor for not telling her, suggesting, or informing her in any way about colonoscopies. She never suggested I sue his ass though- because really, at the time we had other things to worry about and it wasn’t going to save her life or give her a better death in ANY way. But her cursing him over and over is still something I remember most about her life just before death. Maybe there is still some anger in there for me. At the time her curses did nothing but make me sad because I felt they did no good and shouldn’t be what any of us should focus on as she died.
None the less, I take lawsuits seriously. I prefer to work things out outside of the legal system, hell outside of all systems and in honest communication if I can. The time and energy (not to mention anything of the eventual cost), even of just finding out how this would be pursued could be not worth even the most hoped for end result.
Karmicly speaking I feel like it is a campaign that may bring no good unless I am absolutely certain of a NEED to enter into a lawsuit. Obviously I am not certain of any such NEED. I don’t know of his medical advice to others and if this is simply a symptom of a general mal practice that affects his other patients as well, a singular goof up, or if he’s really not at fault at all. If he’s not at fault but still loses what have I done but support a bogus system, harmed someone’s otherwise deserved rep, and wasted a portion of my life. What a bad practice indeed.
Uniforms? You think this unionized or something?
Washing your hands isn’t a chore.
What other environment could you be surrounded by deadly weapons and still have you boss yell at you?
Or for that matter also have enough booze to light a temple on fire for 8 days?
Chose your own lunch break, length of break and other breaks.
A schedule? What schedule?
Overtime? Hahahaha. Come on, this isn’t France.
You won’t ever get fired, you’ll just get miserable.
So the forge film project is still looking for a backer. In the mean time we often return to ideas for the video, one of which is inserting dream sequences. For example:
Kara and I fanning guy and john on one of their many smoking breaks (which she and I do not take)
Having high tea time.
Get out of murder free card for john so that he can off someone in the shop and they come back the next day
Us bouncing on trampoline
When bossman Dan returns from a trip having everyone dressed in what they should NOT be wearing. John in shorts and sandles, guy in a tutu, kara with a pregnant belly, myself in a cocktail dress.
And of course, a chorus line dance sequence.
“Is a vagina a pre-existing condition?” -Cheryl
damn you for having health! We’re an insurance company not doctors!
“You don’t call Mormons ‘Church of Latter-day Saints Devotees’ so why call them ‘Members of the Arian Brotherhood’ instead of Neo-Nazi fuck heads?”
Speaking of which, a joke Cheryl and I came up with:
What do you call a fascist raver?
A neon nazi.
And another one, punchline thanks to Elias:
What did the Texan Iraqi say when he found out we were at war with Iraq?
JEEEEE-Haaad!
Ok, this is the end of this offensive post, please continue with the rest of the weblog as usual.
“See? That wasn’t erotic in the slightest.”
“...about as much fun as a cardboard applicator.”
Having avoided desk jobs my whole life i am pained to see that Dilbert transfers so well to my life at the forge.
Ouch
Back from a short visit to NM for Thanksgiving. It snowed for me Thanksgiving night and stuck. Cheryl's new place there is fab.
All in all, i don't feel like giving a full retelling of my visit. Let's just leave it with it made my heart glad. And i need to plan when i'll be back in December...
Miracle upon miracles! With no explanation or notification after my bitching and several months of stalemate between the coin operated dryer owners and the local electrician, the dryer in the laundry shack is now working again! My life has just become considerably easier! Especially since SOME furry arse creature decide to have four diuretic movements on my prized Australian top grade down comforter! Hum, I’m not so excited anymore.
Confession time. I’m doing something really really dorky. Uber dorky even. Without a question it’s considered the pinnacle of dorkdom by garden variety dorks. And when I say dorky you have to realize I sneer at boffer fighting, laugh but will drink with the SCA after having kick their arses, yawn at video and online games, get exasperated over fantasy novels, have worked and gone to many renaissance fairs in costume, and blink blankly at table top D&D stuff.
Yeah it’s even dorkier than some of my previous dork shenanigans such as studying classical fencing styles, memorizing ancient texts in their original language, wearing Hawaiian shirts and spiked dog collars, doing my own computer programming just for fun, building 3D models of the platonic solids, writing a play based on Euclid, being a proud member of the Sci-Fi club in high school, attending anime conventions as a favorite anime character, watching 12 hour back to back Star Trek (yes, Enterprise) and Xena marathons, having a catalogued comic book collection, having crushes on numerous fictional characters, and collecting coins and stamps.
In fact, this thing I am going to tell you goes WAY BEYOND all those things that I have mentioned so far.
I first heard of this activity when I visited a friend from high school who was going to MIT. She lived and ran with the crowd that did this most dorky of things quite regularly. This is the same crowd that most MIT students called ‘weird’ if you can even fathom that.
When a friend told the girlfriend that I was going to be participating in this ultra-dorky activity her head jerked like he had thrown a rock at it and her eyes rolled back as she said “oh, god!” in response.
Yeah. So you desperately want to know now right? Have you figured it out yet?
Believe me. For the first time since catholic school I’m experiencing extreme guilt in telling or even thinking about trying to explain to people I don’t know VERY well ‘what I did last Saturday night, one night a month.’
I’ve started LARPing.
Yeah.
Vampire the Masquerade.
Yep.
Oh god.
Maybe I would have been better off if I’d started writing Xena slah fiction instead.
Does anyone else ever have totally depraved and dirty thoughts about Audrey Horn and Donna Hayworth every time they see them alone together on Twin Peaks??
Ah yes- I saw a billboard off of IH35 advertising a ‘twin peaks’ restaurant in Austin. 'Twice as much fun!' Bah. It simply CAN’T be that good.
Tim’s now a certified EMT in the army. He received extraordinarily high marks in the exams. I’m really happy for him and proud. Not that I think either of us has it worked out but he seems happy with his choices and his life and if not at peace, happy enough to ignore all the other bullshit. Sometimes I wish I had that kind of resolve. He might call it a resignation though.
I boiled up an artichoke donated by Cheryl and ate it tonight. I can’t even remember the last time I tore into an artichoke leaf by leaf and scooped out the hair inside to expose the heart. So satisfying.
Cheryl interviewed in NM for her job this weekend. I did nothing really.
Highlights include:
Crashing at Rasa’s and sleeping in her wonderfully comforting bed
Getting elbowed in the clit in Jiu Jitsu and maybe I even tweaked a disk
Wrote a depressing poem
Shopped at the whole
Bought a wool army sweater (I seem to go through one of these ever winter)
Bought some comics and was dismayed at the ever growing holes in my collection of series that are out now
Drank beer and watched (m)ass loads of queer as folk on my own
Read the first day of the Decameron
In an astounding display of brevity prompted by lack of familiarity I MCed at the World Peace Kosen Rufu.
After scouring papers and the net I found no foreign diesel trucks either in my price range or area and got no responses to my add selling the Rebel. Blast.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder
…and the pussy ache harder.
Things I find absolutely barbarous:
Not having tea
Not having books
Not knowing your neighbors
Things I don’t find barbarous at all:
Having road kill, hunted meat, or raw skins in your fridge
Dirty sex, fart jokes, anything un-p.c.
Bar fights
Bad spelling
Blood and sacrificial rituals
Mosh pits
Boxing, MMA, and cage fighting
The inherent humor in other people getting hurt
I think I’m kind of done with ren faires.
There will always be people I want to see there and some fun things to buy if I feel like spending. It will also always be an excellent place to wear ornate, fanciful, odd costumes or nearly nothing and not get assaulted or treated badly for it.
As a patron and a merchant I am really sick of all the rest of it to be honest.
So we’re at a gas station somewhere between Austin and Houston at about 9pm. It’s dark. A fairly unattractive but certainly wide and tall man looking like he just got off work from some desk job comes out of the store and looking behind him into the store and then looks at me approaching. He steps aside holding the door open. From inside a chicano girl wearing an expensive cocktail dress and strapy heels zips out, averting her eyes from him and doesn’t say a word as she hurries to her car. I look at the big guy, feeling a little sorry for him but as I always do when anyone holds a door for me I say thank you.
My question is- is that really how straight women treat unattractive straight men? Do they fear they’ll be pounced on if they respond in any way? Do they not feel them worthy of respect or attention? I don’t know. Many of the ways and artifice of how heterosexual women interact with men escape me. I feel like I’ve experienced all these treatments from both sides but it still baffles me.
Also on this trip I got complimented in a gas station by a middle aged scruffy construction worker and his brother. He told me his brother thought I was beautiful but his brother’s shy. I agreed with him about nothing ventured nothing gained and when his brother complimented me on my smile I said thank you. I don’t think this is flirting. It may have been a little odd for me, I may not have been enthused about it all or very responsive but there’s no need to spit in the guy’s eye, throw it in his face that he’s got no chance with me or that I have a girlfriend etc etc, or just plain ignore him. I guess I’m not afraid of him so I don’t mind interacting with him even if it means I may need to correct a mistaken opinion or assumption.
In the end I think fear really may have been what I saw in the way that chicano girl snapped her head down and away from the man holding the door from her. In how she clipped off to her car on high heels very quickly wanting to get in it and away from these as soon as she could.
I’d rather use my extra $ to travel than to acquire items of value. Sure you can use these items, enjoy them, but you’re paying for someone else’s experience whether they created the item or found it. With travel you’re paying for the time of your life. It is first hand experience you are gaining for yourself by it. It isn’t anyone else’s.
Kara, our foreman, says she believes the age of male objectification is at hand. 300 started it and now we see such sights as Beckham in a speedo on a French beach. Then again, she admits she may just be getting more lecherous as she ages.
- Brass knuckle belt buckle
- Baseball bat with spiked doughnut at end
- Labyris
- Spiked ball and chain mace
- Sledge hammer (20 lb)
- Hand forged high carbon butcher cleavers
- Club
- Throwing shovel
- Steel jaw bear trap
- Cross bow
- Sling shot
- Chain mail glove
John the other apprentice was house sitting for me while I was visiting NM. He was moving during this time and his new place didn’t have hot water. He came over to my place after work to feed my cats, take a shower and then he just passed out on my couch. He woke up with Percy stuck right up under his armpit and some morning wood. This is precisely when Tesla decided to attack this foreign object by pouncing his groin, batting it like crazy, and then biting the top of his dick. Of course John was flailing, flinching and shoving the cat away frantically.
Ah Tesla, my attack cat…I have trained you well!
It’s only when I’m at the mercy of nature that I truly appreciate its beauty. Because I have to; I can’t do anything else.
Marriage is seldom about marriage. Just as sex is seldom about sex.
Yeah, i'm in the throws of growing my hair out again. Maybe I should find myself a hair tonic. Any recommendations?
Remember way back when when I figured I should go walkabout after my mother’s death? Well it turned out I had no idea what grief was and how I would grieve and that grand travel was not in my heart anytime soon. But I’m thinking about it again. Thinking about it in these terms: In studying blades and weapons a certain history of mankind comes up. Namely where the artifacts are now, where they came from, where they were used and of course the change in techniques in working and making blades. I want to find them, see them, and once I have my journeyman papers do exactly what those papers are meant to let you do. Journey and learn about your trade. Where to go? England, spain, italy, France, Greece, turkey, Africa, demascus, switzerland, Norway, Russia, Pakistan, India, Malaysia, philipinese, japan,…in general.
This morning as I entered work an old and familiar voice, an unmistakable voice singing in a language I do not understand but in phrases I am familiar with, came across the radio in one of the arias that made him famous. Actually, in this day and age of performer recognition over composer I should say the aria that he made famous. We listen to a lot of different music at the forge but we have never listened to opera.
“Why are we listening to Pavarotti?”
“Because he’s dead.”
The first time I ever kicked in my mother’s womb was at a performace of his at the Sydney Opera house. The same opera house my parents had met at about a year and a half before. I remember Pavarotti’s voice all through my childhood; it seemed to constantly envelop the houses we lived in alongside Joan Sutherlands. I remember so many times during my teen years in dallas trying to escape the sounds of his voice as it reverbed through the living room speakers, into the hall, and back into my bedroom. Did you ever have to ask your parent to turn their music down? I did. All the time. I have always known his voice and have had a many different feelings towards it as I grew.
Pavarotti was my mother’s favorite singer, regardless of gender or genre. He was without a doubt the best tenor of our time and perhaps the greatest tenor ever (unless we count his dad as he use to say). I asked my mum about her admiration once, had se ever met him at any of his concerts she had attended? No, but she had stood near him and watched that night as he signed autograph after autograph from a gigantic line of fans. Didn’t she too want to get an autograph? No, she didn’t feel the need to wait in line to be introduced to him, or get an autograph, she explained, she just wanted to watch her favorite singer in person interacting with other people. He noted her presence and smiled at her. I don’t know what else to say about this all. The news sent me somewhere else for most of the day though. A famous death. A private death. Both of them woven into my life. I’m glad my mother died in a world that still had the best tenor, her favorite singer, in it. I can’t believe we let the house go silent before she died though. Now that I think of it, it’s been such a long long time since I’ve heard his voice so when I say ‘shocking really’ I mean it.
I’ve had this idea to set up a listening library with my mothers 1500+ collection of opera and classical CDS. Let’s face it. I will never have her same relentless love of opera and classical music and I will never listen to all of these CDS. Sometimes I wonder if there is actually enough time in life to and how much she ever got around to listening to. The CDS are all perfectly catalogued down to the original date of recording, who she got to CD from, who did the re-mastering, and when. An index has already been made. The further steps for making them library material may be repetitive but it is not difficult. I don’t know where this library should be set up- somewhere where it can be appreciated obviously. A little wing perhaps in some music college? ‘The Rosemarie Talbot-Burkhart Listening Library’ It is a plan to be executed in the next decade of my life and not here and now when the said CDS are across the country from me and I am busy trying to start a career.
Twin peaks twin peaks twin peaks! What are the supernatural forces that stalk the woods of the area? What are their purposes and intents? Why is dale cooper’s old partner out to kill him? What exactly about their Pittsburg operation was it that ‘drove him mad’? Will Audrey and Coop ever hook it up? Why did Laura Palmer tell no one of her father’s posesment and the abuse she suffered from Bob? Was she protecting him? Was this why she was into drugs and ‘flesh world’ at the same time as being into so many humanitarian and charitable services? What will become of mike if and when bob dies? Can bob even die? And who knew david duchoveny looked so cute in drag!!!
Oh, P.S. T.I.A.I.L.W. Audrey Horn. She’s TROUBLE.
I guess after this I’ll have to watch Northern Exposure. And I need to finish up Six Feet Under.
Sleeve rolling is much like martinis and boobs: one is too few, three is too many.
Tim S. is right. Soon there will be a term for people who sleep with both genders but get into relationships with one gender over the other. Because, let’s face it. Friction is friction but relation is key.
bootlegger brown ale by independence brewing co.
hot damn it will make a non beer drinker go ‘mmm’.
The Jiu Jitsu tournament was quite the learning experience for me. In the morning the little ones went. Wow! If only I had done jiu Jitsu when I was young! Though the kids often forget exactly what they’re doing it’s interesting to watch when instinct and technique alternately come out. In the adults division I only got to roll once. It was single elimination. There were only 9 adults there. Blue and white belt levels, all male but for me and I was also the smallest. I rolled with a guy who had about 30 lbs on me and certainly was less experienced than myself. He did however; use the tournament point system and time limit to best advantage. I rolled as I trained- tried to work fast for a submission, no time limit. This meant I didn’t stay in the positions long enough to accrue points (3 seconds). I certainly wore him out for his next match though! He got me locked up in side control twice which wasted a good deal of time. He didn’t know any submissions from there but he had side control down well and would switch his base each time I went for an escape so I had to work hard for it. What did I learn about tournaments? Keep it simple stupid but don’t be stupid- slow it down- and I’m in far better shape than most competitors in my level. Really, I liked it all in all. Despite the anxiety before I rolled and how much junk was released into my system I liked it. It did frustrate me for a while to not win that match but I learnt and I know better than to be frustrated about first attempts. Joao wants me to go with him to a big 500 person jiu Jitsu tournament in Houston in Nov. He’s stacking the cards in my favor by keeping me at white belt this year and as such he’s certain I’ll beat all the women I encounter there.
I was just saying to Cheryl how I would kill for a new Jeanette Winterson piece. A novel, novella, collection of poetry, essays, short stories, another children’s book, even criticism.
Ok, so in all seriousness I wouldn’t KILL for it. I would seriously mane though. Most definitely.
Wedding wedding. Well it was fabulous darlings! Even though I didn’t know anyone there much fun was had. The travel though tiring was good for my spirits and at the end I almost didn’t want to come home.
Things of note:
Woken at 3 am by grown (alcoholic) men screaming about how many people were killed in Nazi Germany. Not that they had it correct. (‘200,000 man!’)
Found old Meat Cake issues. Hur-ray!
Our rental car broken into and Cheryl’s backpack nabbed. This really sucked as Cheryl’s car keys were stolen (we weren’t sure she had an extra copy at home) and we found out her insurance didn’t cover the window that was broken. They also took my digital camera, the books we had both been lent and were reading, the wedding card, and, ironically, my prayer beads and book. Guess I’ll have to do some extra chanting for them. Maybe they’ll learn something. All in all, they probably got about $30 worth of re-sale stuff.
Had to remember the three things that allow a sleeping bag to function optimally the first cold Seattle night. Maximum skin contact, being zipped up, and being tucked in around the body.
That old question of are you different in different places came into my head. I decided you aren’t a completely different person- the places just bring out different qualities in you. Seattle? Sleepyness, urban-ness, walking and coffee shop visiting.
the dreams of my death have been greatly exaggerated.
the dreams of her death have all been true.
A diesel Datsun truck from the 70’s or a Volkswagen rabbit pick up from the 80’s (both inordinately easier to come by than a Nissan or Toyota diesel) costing around $2000-$2500 seems to be the answer to my white over privileged eco guilt. Also the fact that though there is much it’s possible to, there is still a lot of things you just can’t haul on a motorcycle. With a diesel truck I’m able to use bio diesel but if it runs out I can simply fill it with diesel again. This is a better option than the huge expense of a diesel truck converted to greasel (imported from OZ it’s around $8000 before you’ve even got the greasel mechanism installed or a POS Toyota from the 80’s that’ll still cost $5000 because they’re so bloody popular). Not to mention the trouble of refining the greasel and the fact that there aren’t a lot of good places to get used but still clean grease out here. Because they end up eating it all and calling it ‘vitimin g’ for grease….
“So I was at the wrong graveyard…[…] Actually there was more than one wrong graveyard…” Cheryl
Moto brew. As per my discovery that things taste better when your fingers are covered in axle grease, i hope this beer is brewed in that spirit.
KD Lang and Sir Elton John smootching.
In the words of Guy, 'I thought she was way to butch for him…'
I'm at the Wimberley library for the first time ever. Cheryl is doing last minute errands, getting directions off the puter etc. Her Pensky truck is parked out the front and ready to roll to NM. I won't be driving out there with her but i will be visiting Santa Fe in a week for Thanksgiving so be warned SF peeps- i will be dropping in on you at any time. Very excited.
Did well on my test and I got my Blue Belt in BJJ.
Had my yearly with a new gyno in Austin. She said 'oh my god!' when she saw my bruises and had to ask me about them three times before she was convinced they WERE aquired willingly through martial arts training.
Check out the aweful but funny pic of John and I on Brendt's website. Also check out the trailer for 'The Forge' show he finally posted online!
i am doing laundry with churl in Wimberley at the moment.
In training for my blue belt in BJJ (test this saturday) and my body has become covered in bruises. I lost count at about 30. How do you count multiple bruises in a cluster from repetitive activity anyway? Ouch.
Cheryl is moving back to Santa Fe. She got a great job there with her old company doing therapy with teens in the juvenile system. Hopefully i will be headed out there helping her move. In the mean time we are depressed. Indeed.
The little Texas town i live in is becoming less and less apealing to me. Not that it ever held my interest. When i have 3 old ladies gawking at me over lunch and i so fluster them they can't decide if they're in the right bathroom and when they do they walk into an already occupied stall i feel like there's more against me than for.
i love shoes and BRAINS.
here are some more pieces i did.
Also the first two on this page, the first four on this page, and the first and the first and the fourth ones here. Other than that the others i've done have all SOLD before even making the website!
Other blade things:
Here's a video of some UK women doing a great dance with blades.
If you live in NYC, go see this! Angel Sword will be there.
Marriage is so gay
|