A blaggers guide to...
I awoke yesterday on the sofa. It was lunchtime and with only 5 hours until the deadline for my magazine features it was time to do some work. I spark of inspiration entered my head: Instead of not handing any work in, why not hand a couple of shitty articles and if they receive a grade of 40% or better it's a bonus.
I can write shitty articles, I thought to myself. So with my balls against the wall, I knocked up a thousand words on 28 Weeks Later (using very little research) and five hundred words titled "The Blagger's Guide To: The White Stripes". The latter being a run through of my favourite White Stripes album "De Stijl". Not too much thinking work involved, and not too much effort spent. With the big hand approaching the twelve and the little one edging on to the five, I got my work submitted. Job's a good'ne.
The evening was spent carting my crap over to my mate's house in West London. I must have lost about 3kg in sweat as I heaved my backpack (which weighs at least the equivilant of my body mass), two laptop bags (only one computer, the other one full of magazines and other assorted junk) and my parker (I don't know why I brought a parker with me. It's been drizzling at best) to Shepherd's Bush station.
After the blandest fish and chips I've ever had, about 3 or 4 cups of tea, and a little smokie, I passed out at my new lodgings. I'm going to miss all these adventures when I go back to Cornwall next week.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The suited hammer hits home!
I've just got a fresh gust of wind in my sails after dropping the suited hammer (7-2) to smash an ace high all-in bluff. With bottom pair (the 2s) and a flush draw I felt it was time to raise up the pot. Some jackass re raises me and pushes. What else could I do? It's my first hammer in ages. I call (not a great call, admittedly) and he shows A-Qo. The hammer holds and I double up. Shit yeah! Or as the great Alan Partridge just said on UK Gold "Jurassic Park"
I've just got a fresh gust of wind in my sails after dropping the suited hammer (7-2) to smash an ace high all-in bluff. With bottom pair (the 2s) and a flush draw I felt it was time to raise up the pot. Some jackass re raises me and pushes. What else could I do? It's my first hammer in ages. I call (not a great call, admittedly) and he shows A-Qo. The hammer holds and I double up. Shit yeah! Or as the great Alan Partridge just said on UK Gold "Jurassic Park"
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Ho hum...
I haven't done any real work today, despite having a feature to hand in tomorrow, I haven't started (and can't, because my contact hasn't come in and won't answer their phone). This doesn't really put me in the mood to do any work.
At the placement today my task was to go around London and photograph the town's casinos and cardrooms. A very enjoyable task on a hot and sunny day. I don't know what it is, but either more good looking girls come out in public when it's hot, or it's the heat and everyone looks hotter. Are hotties just a mirage? No, that can't be. But as soon as it went cloudy I couldn't see a looker among them.
My last cardroom to photograph was the Gutshot. I almost walked past it. Through the media and stories of grandeur, I imagined the Gutshot to be a classy and quite intimidating place. The fact that it looks like an internet café from the outside made me laugh, and wee a little. The inside wasn't much of an improvement either. But, I can understand that they're effectively fighting a legal battle against the legal system - so finishing the building work can't really be on the top of their list of worries.
The timing of my arrival to the Gutshot fit in perfectly with their lunchtime £20 tournament. Not wanting to look like a complete twat, I made sure not to be the first player eliminated. As the first hour approached I found my stack effectively destroyed. The player to my left said he was going to raise, out of turn. I looked down to see pocket Queens. I called, to see how much he was going to bet. He bets about 4 times the big blind. The button calls and so do I. The flop comes down 10-6-3 with two spades. Out of turn guy starts talking like he's on a flush draw and bets (about half my stack). Matey on the button calls and I figure, fuck it. If anything, he is on a draw and the other guy has a low pocket pair or A-10 or middle/bottom pair top kicker. I push. They both call. Out of turn guy shows A-J spades, exactly what I thought. Button turns over pocket Tens for trips. Shit. I'm effectively drawing dead. The turn and river don't help and I'm down to about 500 from a starting stack of 1500. With the blinds going up every other hand (or so it seemed), I pushed with K-10d looking to steal. I get called by out of turn guy, who shows A-Q and a Queen on the flop speeds up my exit. No help again on the turn or river and I'm sent packing ruing my weak play. I should've pushed with the Queens pre flop, but seeing as it was early on in the game it's bit of a marginal decision. Ah well, at least I can vent my frustrations in cliché poker speak.
I haven't done any real work today, despite having a feature to hand in tomorrow, I haven't started (and can't, because my contact hasn't come in and won't answer their phone). This doesn't really put me in the mood to do any work.
At the placement today my task was to go around London and photograph the town's casinos and cardrooms. A very enjoyable task on a hot and sunny day. I don't know what it is, but either more good looking girls come out in public when it's hot, or it's the heat and everyone looks hotter. Are hotties just a mirage? No, that can't be. But as soon as it went cloudy I couldn't see a looker among them.
My last cardroom to photograph was the Gutshot. I almost walked past it. Through the media and stories of grandeur, I imagined the Gutshot to be a classy and quite intimidating place. The fact that it looks like an internet café from the outside made me laugh, and wee a little. The inside wasn't much of an improvement either. But, I can understand that they're effectively fighting a legal battle against the legal system - so finishing the building work can't really be on the top of their list of worries.
The timing of my arrival to the Gutshot fit in perfectly with their lunchtime £20 tournament. Not wanting to look like a complete twat, I made sure not to be the first player eliminated. As the first hour approached I found my stack effectively destroyed. The player to my left said he was going to raise, out of turn. I looked down to see pocket Queens. I called, to see how much he was going to bet. He bets about 4 times the big blind. The button calls and so do I. The flop comes down 10-6-3 with two spades. Out of turn guy starts talking like he's on a flush draw and bets (about half my stack). Matey on the button calls and I figure, fuck it. If anything, he is on a draw and the other guy has a low pocket pair or A-10 or middle/bottom pair top kicker. I push. They both call. Out of turn guy shows A-J spades, exactly what I thought. Button turns over pocket Tens for trips. Shit. I'm effectively drawing dead. The turn and river don't help and I'm down to about 500 from a starting stack of 1500. With the blinds going up every other hand (or so it seemed), I pushed with K-10d looking to steal. I get called by out of turn guy, who shows A-Q and a Queen on the flop speeds up my exit. No help again on the turn or river and I'm sent packing ruing my weak play. I should've pushed with the Queens pre flop, but seeing as it was early on in the game it's bit of a marginal decision. Ah well, at least I can vent my frustrations in cliché poker speak.
Need to sleep, must write...
Well, in all honesty, I mustn't. It's late, I've had a long day (been at the office all day, until 7.30 - quick sit n go afterwards). I've been doing college work since 9.00, that's over 5 hours in my book, and now I need to sleep. [You can tell from all the sentences I'm being with the the "I've"]
It's really annoying because I spent the day doing pretty much sweet f.a. My tasks included: going to the post room and writing some ideas for a feature on the best ways to steal a pot. Why they asked me, I do not know. My style of play doesn't get in the slightest bit aggressive until the really late (probably too late) stages of a tournament/sng. I even proved the point by making terrible moves with terrible cards. I should stick to my own game, that if anything, is the only thing I've learned from any literature. Perhaps some stuff is seeping in subconsciously.
Yes, the lovely college work. My first task (and I use the term task very lightly in this case) was to sub-edit a college colleague's work [I like the sound and look of those two words together]. It wasn't a pleasurable job, but I did have a laugh (and a cry almost) doing it. Following that was the joy that was transcribing my interview with the Associate Publisher her. Firstly, that use of the word 'joy' was sarcastic, whereas actually doing the interview was of the standard definition of the word. I think I'm getting better at doing them, I must be if I take pleasure from doing them.
That's it for today. I've got to get up in five and a half hours to start again.
Well, in all honesty, I mustn't. It's late, I've had a long day (been at the office all day, until 7.30 - quick sit n go afterwards). I've been doing college work since 9.00, that's over 5 hours in my book, and now I need to sleep. [You can tell from all the sentences I'm being with the the "I've"]
It's really annoying because I spent the day doing pretty much sweet f.a. My tasks included: going to the post room and writing some ideas for a feature on the best ways to steal a pot. Why they asked me, I do not know. My style of play doesn't get in the slightest bit aggressive until the really late (probably too late) stages of a tournament/sng. I even proved the point by making terrible moves with terrible cards. I should stick to my own game, that if anything, is the only thing I've learned from any literature. Perhaps some stuff is seeping in subconsciously.
Yes, the lovely college work. My first task (and I use the term task very lightly in this case) was to sub-edit a college colleague's work [I like the sound and look of those two words together]. It wasn't a pleasurable job, but I did have a laugh (and a cry almost) doing it. Following that was the joy that was transcribing my interview with the Associate Publisher her. Firstly, that use of the word 'joy' was sarcastic, whereas actually doing the interview was of the standard definition of the word. I think I'm getting better at doing them, I must be if I take pleasure from doing them.
That's it for today. I've got to get up in five and a half hours to start again.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
I arrived back from work tired and hungry and with the intention of eaking a little bit more work out of my sleepy body after a long day at the office. Seeing as we had a game of poker, I didn't get in until around 8.30. But it was worth the delay, I came second (again), which isn't bad when you are as bad at heads up as I am. The deciding hand I decided to push on the button with anything. I'd been folding often, and generally being beaten around the park for the past five minutes. "I'm all in", I say with confidence, concealing the fact that I had 4-5o. Rick replied "I'd string it out like I did with Alun, but I can't do it again", I knew as soon as he said that it was over. He had Aces. The flop was friendly, giving me a pair and an up and down straight draw. It was to no avail though. I walked to the tube in good spirits, knowing that I was beaten by a better hand.
When I got in I was going to have a pizza and do some transcribing of an interview I did. It turns out the recording was really quiet. Too quiet to hear barely in the office. "Barton Fink's on in a minute", my mate Jane said. "Great film. It's got an awesome script, you should watch it." These comments came about from me telling her about my new found (or is that re-) interest in writing, with a certain focus on screen writing. Bugger, I was going to have to watch it.
And so I did, and I did enjoy it, very much. I don't have to explain how good it is. There are film critics for that, I get the impression that they enjoyed it as much as I did. Although at the minute I don't have the slightest energy to go on about it any further.
So now I'm in bed. Completely knackered. Inspired by a great film (inspired to not go to Hollywood and be a writer perhaps) and still miles behind on my work load. I have an article to do for college that I need to email in tomorrow night and I haven't got a clue where to start. I also don't have a clue when I'm moving out of this place, which will make things even more fun. But that's my working time frame, the last second of the last minute. I wouldn't have any excuses if I spent too much time over my work.
When I got in I was going to have a pizza and do some transcribing of an interview I did. It turns out the recording was really quiet. Too quiet to hear barely in the office. "Barton Fink's on in a minute", my mate Jane said. "Great film. It's got an awesome script, you should watch it." These comments came about from me telling her about my new found (or is that re-) interest in writing, with a certain focus on screen writing. Bugger, I was going to have to watch it.
And so I did, and I did enjoy it, very much. I don't have to explain how good it is. There are film critics for that, I get the impression that they enjoyed it as much as I did. Although at the minute I don't have the slightest energy to go on about it any further.
So now I'm in bed. Completely knackered. Inspired by a great film (inspired to not go to Hollywood and be a writer perhaps) and still miles behind on my work load. I have an article to do for college that I need to email in tomorrow night and I haven't got a clue where to start. I also don't have a clue when I'm moving out of this place, which will make things even more fun. But that's my working time frame, the last second of the last minute. I wouldn't have any excuses if I spent too much time over my work.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
I thought I'd make notes on a tournament I entered, to see where I went wrong etc etc. I played alright until the cards went a bit quiet. And then I got caught on the fish hooks. Back to the 5/10c cash games...
Shootout notes
$11 294 entrants
I haven't played a shootout before. And seeing as I've made +$11 on the 5c/10c tables, if think it's worth an investment to step up my game from the $3 s&gs that i'm placing in and the $6 games that i waste.
AJh on the button, get raised behind me, call. Flop comes 7 A K all spades, checked round to raiser. i call, they fold. turn 2h, he bets small. i call, not putting him on flush. river 7 blank, he bets 1/4 pot. i call, he shows Ac-Qs, winning with kicker. cock.
A-Qo pre flop raise, (4bb), one caller. A 10 7 flop, bet out 3bb, called. turn 8, bet 4bbs called. river 2, bet 5bbs, called. i win.
Big blind, 5 handed. I get Jacks, matey on the button raises to 1000 (bb 200), i put the squeeze on. Push. He calls, flips the hilton sisters. Bugger. A queen hits on the flop. Mother fucker, I'm out.
Shootout notes
$11 294 entrants
I haven't played a shootout before. And seeing as I've made +$11 on the 5c/10c tables, if think it's worth an investment to step up my game from the $3 s&gs that i'm placing in and the $6 games that i waste.
AJh on the button, get raised behind me, call. Flop comes 7 A K all spades, checked round to raiser. i call, they fold. turn 2h, he bets small. i call, not putting him on flush. river 7 blank, he bets 1/4 pot. i call, he shows Ac-Qs, winning with kicker. cock.
A-Qo pre flop raise, (4bb), one caller. A 10 7 flop, bet out 3bb, called. turn 8, bet 4bbs called. river 2, bet 5bbs, called. i win.
Big blind, 5 handed. I get Jacks, matey on the button raises to 1000 (bb 200), i put the squeeze on. Push. He calls, flips the hilton sisters. Bugger. A queen hits on the flop. Mother fucker, I'm out.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Less than two minutes ago a thought entered my head. I'll write it down on a scrap of paper I initially thought. That was followed by, no I'll remember it in the morning. By the time I decided to turn on the laptop and start writing, because I can't get to sleep - I had no recollection of the original inspiration. Hopefully, if it was that good an idea it will come back to me. If not, never mind, I've got plenty of ideas in my thick skull.
This is something that has taken me by surprise. I haven't engaged my brain to this extent on a daily basis since; I don't know when. In all honesty I'd have to say I can’t image it being in the last ten years or so. Have I really been coasting for that long? A quick scan of my brain (no more than ten seconds or so) can't find any evidence to argue that number. I really have been a lazy fucker.
That might have something to do with me not having the inspiration to do anything (mentally or equally physically straining) for so long. I've just been putting in half the effort and receiving half the rewards. Now i'm in London, working-eating-drinking-sleeping (not too so much on the second and fourth) I'm really enjoying 'doing'. Whether it's a shitty run to the shop to get some crap for the ed / researching the mundane, or trying to put together some questions, then ask the questions: whilst feeling the brunt of the night before's drinking. I'm being active. And it seems to be agreeing with me.
I think the lack of enjoyment has been the core reason why I haven't been writing. Also, because I haven't been writing (or working) so much, for so long, I haven't let myself get into any sort of momentum and anything that I have produced has been doomed from the get go. I think that's why I've forced myself to get back into the blogging lark. It's there, an output for all the crap that's running around my head. I don't care if anyone reads it, because I've managed to get it out of my noggin and into some form of fruition. Because I've got a means to empty my head, I have room to produce more stuff in my head. It's like some sort of farming mechanism I guess.
I'm also not afraid to bang out whatever I'm thinking anymore. I've always been a bit conservative with what I put on a page. Now I know that I can churn stuff out, who cares if some of it's crap. When it comes to publishing stuff (well, except this blog), the crap can be edited out. It's not like films are made in one take, or records are recorded in one session. These things take years to learn, to refine, and ages to produce to the point (or as close to the point) of the artist's/writer's/director's satisfaction. If only I realised this a long time ago. I'd be on my way to being a good writer.
That's another thing. I've got to stop this British, self depricating crap. Fuck knows why I do it. Well, I've got my theories but now's not the time to go in to detail on that. I was a bumbling, nervous fool before I went to Australia and did a stint of 'growing up backpacker style'. I came home confident. I seem to have lost that along the way in the last few years and I want it back. I no longer want to be nervous, or bumbling and definately not a fool.
When I get into working, I seem to switch that (the nervous, overthinking) part of my brain off. Whereas for years I've adopted the 'what seems to be enough, should be enough' attitude, when I do some work that engages me (i.e. writing) I stick my balls to the wall and do it properly. I've been worrying about the 6000 word count of the case study for so long, but in the last couple of days from writing at work or taking notes (in my case study diary), posting on the course forum to writing these damn blogs I must have written thousands of words. For years I've thought about being a writer, and until being forced to do it I've been scared to do it.
I'm getting the feeling that this may have started to get a bit repetitive, so I'll move on. And vent my bad beat story from the work game so that doesn't keep me awake all night.
£5 buy in, 'turbo' (or at least that's how it started). 6 players. Starting stack 2000
I'd managed to hit a few hands early on which put me up 4/500. This let me see a few flops that I normally wouldn't. What with being a tight player. Up until the last 3 I'd been floating around the 2000 mark, give or take the odd 100 or so. This is where the fun begins. I get a pocket pair and decide it's Shit or Bust time. Coin toss situation? Yeah, I think I'll take those odds. So I double up. It's all a bit equal - around 3-4000 each. I then take down a couple more hands and I have a decent chip lead. Cheung's down to 1500 with 300/600 blinds. I'm dealt A-4 on the button, I put Cheung (on the SB) all in, he calls, Dave folds. He turns over A-Ks, an A on the flop and no help. Bugger. Never mind, these things happen. I get the big blind and with it a shit hand. Someone raises, I fold. The next time I get the button I've got A-7. Not wanting to play, and lose to the same trick twice, I call (hoping to show strength, looking for a flop to trap on). Dave raises all-in, because of his short stack I'm pretty pot committed (I dunno, say two more BB's). I call, thinking if he's got a pair we've got a coin toss. He flips A-K. An ace and a King hit the felt.
This joke's wearing thin. It happens again. Pretty much exact situation. I raise (or call a raise, believing to be strong) and when the cards turn over I'm dominated by their kicker, which hits just to rub it in. By now I'm screwed. With the blinds up to 600/1200 I've got 1250 in chips and dealt Q-7 under the gun. I'm all in. I actually win the hand, and a following one. I'm up to about 2000. It's still gambling time though, because of the blinds. I'm dealt, strangely, Qd-7h, utg, again. 'I'm all in again' I announce, 'Call' says Dave and we flip the cards. He's got Qc-10s. 'For fuck's sake!', by now I've lost it. Verging the tipping point of the tilt. The board comes down 4c-Qh-7h. Shit I'm ahead, I think, trying not to jinx myself. The turn is another heart. Come on! I'm buzzing. The only two cards Dave can hit are the two 10s that aren't the 10h. Wallop! The donkey raping, piss guzzling, Ten of FUCKING Hearts hits on the river and I'm beyond devastated. I was literally in shock. I know it's a two outter (and I've been stung by them before, and I will again), but I've never been so gutted in my playing life. It didn't matter to me that it was a five pound game, it didn't matter that I was on the bubble. It didn't matter that tere was probably a hell of a lot more play left in the game, should I have stayed in. It just destroyed me that time after time, the same thing kept happening. To get to that point, despite the curse of the kickers, I felt I played alright. But no. The kickers kept kicking and this time I couldn't get back up.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
And so it was, they brought forth the beer festival and the hoardes did come. What a genius idea and one that I couldn't allow myself to miss. I mean I know it's on until Saturday night (The Ealing Beer Festival - http://www.beeronbroadway.org.uk/ ), but I had to check it out a.s.a.p. However, the a.s.a.p. turned into late yesterday evening, we didn't get there until 9pm and as it was closing at 11 I decided to get my money's worth.
Somehow, after caining a dozen or so half pints (I know, I'm ashamed) I found my head spinning (might have something to do with what I smoked on the way there) and my stomach purging. I got into work half an hour late and smelling of beer (no time for a shower, I'm digusting). Fortunately, my meeting was put off until after lunch, so I had time to wake up and get some food in me. At lunch we had a £1 crap shoot (or turbo as they're otherwise known). Wanting to get a quick start I reraised all in with A-Ko, my first premium hand in what feels like weeks. Needless to say I was called by the Iceman's pocket tens and I lost the race. Big stakes, big losses.
I was then given a proper workie's job. In the style of Sir Alan, Dave sent me on an errand to get some trackie bottoms. Walking down Oxford St with a mission I almost felt like a tit off tv. Minus the cameras I can only assume that that means that I'm just a tit. Mission accomplished, I got on with my real work tasks, and less hungover managed to have a decent chat with the publisher. Job's a good-un.
Somehow, after caining a dozen or so half pints (I know, I'm ashamed) I found my head spinning (might have something to do with what I smoked on the way there) and my stomach purging. I got into work half an hour late and smelling of beer (no time for a shower, I'm digusting). Fortunately, my meeting was put off until after lunch, so I had time to wake up and get some food in me. At lunch we had a £1 crap shoot (or turbo as they're otherwise known). Wanting to get a quick start I reraised all in with A-Ko, my first premium hand in what feels like weeks. Needless to say I was called by the Iceman's pocket tens and I lost the race. Big stakes, big losses.
I was then given a proper workie's job. In the style of Sir Alan, Dave sent me on an errand to get some trackie bottoms. Walking down Oxford St with a mission I almost felt like a tit off tv. Minus the cameras I can only assume that that means that I'm just a tit. Mission accomplished, I got on with my real work tasks, and less hungover managed to have a decent chat with the publisher. Job's a good-un.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Just kidding, I've got too much stuff in my head to just post a dozen words or so. I'd like to say for my dozen readers, but that would just be kidding myself. If this post seems in any way disjointed, it'll be because I'm working on other projects (i.e. work) and I need to skip quickly between tabs. I don't believe in A.D.D., if I did, I wouldn't begin to think that I had it. But I have noticed how erratic my behaviour has been in the office. I can't keep still for more than 15 minutes at a time. I'm constantly getting up to get some water, or relieve myself of water, or going for a cigarette. Worst thing is: no one here seems to smoke. (I'll get around to explaining where here is in a bit) I'd better get on with some other work.
Yes, the evil W word. To cut a long and not very interesting story short: I'm doing an internship at a poker magazine in London. This is part of my journalism degree. I have to do remedial work and at the same time write a case study on an aspect of the business. The case study is a research project where I ask stupid questions and hope to not get stupid answers. Failing that I'll come up with some decent questions, which I expect will be thwarted by stupid answers. I've been at the mag for about two weeks, it is now time to get on with some real work.
But first, lunch. A turkey sub, white choc chip cookie and a coke, if anyone acres. I've noticed a bit of food talk on these blogs.
I've just been informed of the smoking patio in the building. Two weeks here, stood out in the street, watching courier vans and mopeds go past and now they tell me. I thought there was some weird anti smoking olicy going on or something.
I'm going to speak with the publisher in a bit to get some info that I need to write up my case study. So I'd better stop blogging and do some work.
Questions revised, blood stream full of nicotene, I walked into the publisher's office and fired round after round of hard hitting, corporate busting questions. Well, not quite. The first question I asked and then developed wrote off some of my other questions. I'm getting used to thiis from interviewing people. I just have to look like I expected it next time.
The interview went well though and I got more than I expected. Shit, I might actually have decent piece of work to put together. I got back to my desk to find that my news story I wrote yesterday has been posted on the website. Things are looking good.
So good infact, I don't mind doing remedial jobs for the rest of the day.
Yes, the evil W word. To cut a long and not very interesting story short: I'm doing an internship at a poker magazine in London. This is part of my journalism degree. I have to do remedial work and at the same time write a case study on an aspect of the business. The case study is a research project where I ask stupid questions and hope to not get stupid answers. Failing that I'll come up with some decent questions, which I expect will be thwarted by stupid answers. I've been at the mag for about two weeks, it is now time to get on with some real work.
But first, lunch. A turkey sub, white choc chip cookie and a coke, if anyone acres. I've noticed a bit of food talk on these blogs.
I've just been informed of the smoking patio in the building. Two weeks here, stood out in the street, watching courier vans and mopeds go past and now they tell me. I thought there was some weird anti smoking olicy going on or something.
I'm going to speak with the publisher in a bit to get some info that I need to write up my case study. So I'd better stop blogging and do some work.
Questions revised, blood stream full of nicotene, I walked into the publisher's office and fired round after round of hard hitting, corporate busting questions. Well, not quite. The first question I asked and then developed wrote off some of my other questions. I'm getting used to thiis from interviewing people. I just have to look like I expected it next time.
The interview went well though and I got more than I expected. Shit, I might actually have decent piece of work to put together. I got back to my desk to find that my news story I wrote yesterday has been posted on the website. Things are looking good.
So good infact, I don't mind doing remedial jobs for the rest of the day.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Forgetting about a blog for a weeks, well that's child's play. Taking it back up after three years, well I couldn't be asked to open a new account or come up with another witty title.
So, when I can be asked to do a full length update, this blog will be back in action. Like Roger Clemens after a long break. But without the payday. It won't take another three years.
So, when I can be asked to do a full length update, this blog will be back in action. Like Roger Clemens after a long break. But without the payday. It won't take another three years.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
I forgot that I had this site. I also forgot that it was possible to spend over two hours a day on the internet. Somedays I forgot to even go on the internet. Then, this morning I woke to find that my closest friends were no longer in Cairns.
Basically (Aussies love that term), over the last two weeks I have met up with Lauren (my girlfriend from England, well via Melbourne), Jodie - her and my mate, Izzy - one of my best mates from home, Ben - a cool dude and numerous other people I'd be proud to call friends. I had a great few weeks in a hazy bubble of happiness. Now everyone has left Cairns, and I haven't, I'm faced with meeting more new people and people I generally did not spend time with (to spend time with previously mentioned mates).
I'm bored, skint, well that's about it, horny as fuck but I won't ponder on that too long, and I have nothing to do. Ah well, internet games, such timewasting joy!
Basically (Aussies love that term), over the last two weeks I have met up with Lauren (my girlfriend from England, well via Melbourne), Jodie - her and my mate, Izzy - one of my best mates from home, Ben - a cool dude and numerous other people I'd be proud to call friends. I had a great few weeks in a hazy bubble of happiness. Now everyone has left Cairns, and I haven't, I'm faced with meeting more new people and people I generally did not spend time with (to spend time with previously mentioned mates).
I'm bored, skint, well that's about it, horny as fuck but I won't ponder on that too long, and I have nothing to do. Ah well, internet games, such timewasting joy!
Sunday, May 09, 2004
After another long drought of updates I thought I better get my ass in gear and start writing again. I've been pretty short of money for the last two/three weeks and money is the root of all blogs. Well, it cost money to surf (I hate that term!) the internet, and now it doesn't. My new hostel has free access, oh yeah, I've moved up to Cairns as well.
I don't know whether to write about Cairns yet, I've been here just over a day and haven't seen much so I don't think I have decent grounds to form an opinion yet. I could write about my flight up here, but that would be boring.
Likewise I could write about getting drunk on cheap wine, "goon" as us backpackers affectionately call it, that would be somewhat cliché. I guess I'll just write about having nothing to write about. A personal favourite of mine. It's about 25 degrees celcius, cloudy, muggy (I love that word) and I've got a sore stomach from the wine last night. I also don't feel like thinking, I've also run out of time on the computer, and for today's rambling irrelevent blog I'll have to say good bye.
I don't know whether to write about Cairns yet, I've been here just over a day and haven't seen much so I don't think I have decent grounds to form an opinion yet. I could write about my flight up here, but that would be boring.
Likewise I could write about getting drunk on cheap wine, "goon" as us backpackers affectionately call it, that would be somewhat cliché. I guess I'll just write about having nothing to write about. A personal favourite of mine. It's about 25 degrees celcius, cloudy, muggy (I love that word) and I've got a sore stomach from the wine last night. I also don't feel like thinking, I've also run out of time on the computer, and for today's rambling irrelevent blog I'll have to say good bye.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
I'm bored.
I've been in Melbourne for nigh on two and a half months, I've lived in the same hostel, been to the same pubs, seen lots of bands and now I want to move on. Not to mention the fact that I'm working a depressing but meaningful job (I am an advocate for a chairty) and my girlfriend has left town, there are endless movies on the tv here, I can't get five minutes to myself, or five minutes with anyone that'll make me feel better. I'm homesick but not sick for home, I just guess I've got itchy feet. That or I've just been smoking too much.
Good job I get paid on Wednesday. I don't care whether I get fired, (I'm not a great salesman), I've decided that I'm leaving at the end of the week, I just don't know where to. I've found living in hostels with no money a very boring and lonely experience. If you have money you can drink and talk bollocks to people, I don't. Plus I don't feel like talking bollocks anymore. I want to sit in the sun, surf, smoke pot and play guitar on a sunset filled beach. I know that's the rose-tinted view of things, but to be honest anything is better than a cold, miserable city, with cold miserable people who don't have time for the environment.
The next blog will hopefully posted from the warm east coast of Australia, I expect there will be no trams but that won't ruin my time. Trams are starting to piss me off to be honest, well public transport as a whole, commuting if you would. I hate travelling to and from work, I'm sure I'm not alone. Fuck, I never thought I'd be in a position where I'd be bitching about daily life like this. I'm dissapointed in myself.
No more of this madness, I need a sunny beach and warm tanned girls. Yes, that sounds good.
I've been in Melbourne for nigh on two and a half months, I've lived in the same hostel, been to the same pubs, seen lots of bands and now I want to move on. Not to mention the fact that I'm working a depressing but meaningful job (I am an advocate for a chairty) and my girlfriend has left town, there are endless movies on the tv here, I can't get five minutes to myself, or five minutes with anyone that'll make me feel better. I'm homesick but not sick for home, I just guess I've got itchy feet. That or I've just been smoking too much.
Good job I get paid on Wednesday. I don't care whether I get fired, (I'm not a great salesman), I've decided that I'm leaving at the end of the week, I just don't know where to. I've found living in hostels with no money a very boring and lonely experience. If you have money you can drink and talk bollocks to people, I don't. Plus I don't feel like talking bollocks anymore. I want to sit in the sun, surf, smoke pot and play guitar on a sunset filled beach. I know that's the rose-tinted view of things, but to be honest anything is better than a cold, miserable city, with cold miserable people who don't have time for the environment.
The next blog will hopefully posted from the warm east coast of Australia, I expect there will be no trams but that won't ruin my time. Trams are starting to piss me off to be honest, well public transport as a whole, commuting if you would. I hate travelling to and from work, I'm sure I'm not alone. Fuck, I never thought I'd be in a position where I'd be bitching about daily life like this. I'm dissapointed in myself.
No more of this madness, I need a sunny beach and warm tanned girls. Yes, that sounds good.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
While in the process of thinking about what to write about in today's blog I decided to type 'tramspotting' into google (the search engine, not my cat which has the same name. I don't really have a cat called google, but what fun it would be to have such named cat!) Dissapointingly this site is not in its list.
However, as pure luck would have it, whilst thinking of what to write in this paragraph I stumbled on to this site:
http://www.thefa.com/Grassroots/GrassRootsNews/Postings/2003/01/35684.htm
A news story from the Football Association's website. Something to do with a man trying to reach the cross-bar at football grounds, not important, but his name Mr. Tram is somewhat relevant, anyway.
If you would like to open a new browser and look at the page I would like you to divert your gaze to the picture (you can read the highly interesting story afterward). The caption reads:
'"Tram" the hopper behind the wheel of his Blackpool tram'
I never thought once after coming up with the name of this site that I would actually gain any skill in tramspotting however I will divulge. The tram in the picture is not a Blackpool tram, it happens to be a City Circle Tram (a free to ride tram!) that circulates Melbourne, the yellow coloured building in the back-ground is Flinder's Street Station, one of the finest pieces of Victorian architecture in Melbourne. The city I am living in. Pure lazy journalism. Shocking.
I never thought I would find such coincidental circumstances, I'll have to email the F.A. and inform them of this vile act of lazy journalism
However, as pure luck would have it, whilst thinking of what to write in this paragraph I stumbled on to this site:
http://www.thefa.com/Grassroots/GrassRootsNews/Postings/2003/01/35684.htm
A news story from the Football Association's website. Something to do with a man trying to reach the cross-bar at football grounds, not important, but his name Mr. Tram is somewhat relevant, anyway.
If you would like to open a new browser and look at the page I would like you to divert your gaze to the picture (you can read the highly interesting story afterward). The caption reads:
'"Tram" the hopper behind the wheel of his Blackpool tram'
I never thought once after coming up with the name of this site that I would actually gain any skill in tramspotting however I will divulge. The tram in the picture is not a Blackpool tram, it happens to be a City Circle Tram (a free to ride tram!) that circulates Melbourne, the yellow coloured building in the back-ground is Flinder's Street Station, one of the finest pieces of Victorian architecture in Melbourne. The city I am living in. Pure lazy journalism. Shocking.
I never thought I would find such coincidental circumstances, I'll have to email the F.A. and inform them of this vile act of lazy journalism
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
I was just wandering how to get noticed by the admins at blogger.com, so I thought by writing this is may get some attention. Not that I want attention, just popularity, but I'll pretend that I don't want it when I've got it so I don't sound like I want to be popular, just that I am.
Where was I?
Well, I thought I'd write today about today. I've finished my job as kitchen monkey at La Porchetta (apperently a large franchise) pizza restaurant. It was shit, I must say. also feel inclined to mention that a company of its size (over 100 restaurants in Australia, and expanding to NZ, Japan and the USA) shouldn't be paying it's lower employees (any for that case) cash in hand and scamming the tax-man.
I know that all big companies tend to scam the tax-man, why almost all major multi-national corporations have a scam going, and the scam known as the United States of America has been well documented over the years. Sorry for that rant but I need to vent sometimes.
If there's anyone out there reading this and gives two shits (and works for the Australian Tax Office), please let me know (I won't give you my email, you'll probably know it already, "Big Brother IS Watching"). I wouldn't mind a few dollars for whistle-blowing (if you can call it that, more logic I think) I could do with some cash to see this country.
So if this has got any attention, from anyone, let me know, I need attention!
Where was I?
Well, I thought I'd write today about today. I've finished my job as kitchen monkey at La Porchetta (apperently a large franchise) pizza restaurant. It was shit, I must say. also feel inclined to mention that a company of its size (over 100 restaurants in Australia, and expanding to NZ, Japan and the USA) shouldn't be paying it's lower employees (any for that case) cash in hand and scamming the tax-man.
I know that all big companies tend to scam the tax-man, why almost all major multi-national corporations have a scam going, and the scam known as the United States of America has been well documented over the years. Sorry for that rant but I need to vent sometimes.
If there's anyone out there reading this and gives two shits (and works for the Australian Tax Office), please let me know (I won't give you my email, you'll probably know it already, "Big Brother IS Watching"). I wouldn't mind a few dollars for whistle-blowing (if you can call it that, more logic I think) I could do with some cash to see this country.
So if this has got any attention, from anyone, let me know, I need attention!
Sunday, April 11, 2004
It's been (another) while since my last blog, the connection to the internet at the hostel has gone and it's taken me until now to be bothered to find an internet cafe. Stupid library won't let me use they're computers for blogging, bastards.
Anyway, back to the point.
I've found the break from blogging over the last week quite useful to be honest, I am a fan of breaks, tea breaks, toilet breaks, cigarette breaks, if I sound like a slacker, that's because I am. I also think that today's slack generation ("generation x" as they used to call it) get a bad reputation for being slack. I mean, if there was anything worth working for I'm sure (some of us) would put in a little more effort.
It's dawned on me that's it's been over ten years since the first publication of "Generation X" (by Douglas Coupland, read it if you haven't) and the themes and ideas that run through the story still seem true to life in the twenty-first century world. Twenty-somethings are working McJobs for minimum wage (at least it's good in perspective to sweat-shop work and child labour) and have absolutely no goals or ambition. That is except to drive to secluded areas, sit around, talk and smoke tremendous amounts of cigarettes. Now we can't even afford an education to get the well paid job to leave behind for luxurious life of generation x.
I don't really know where I'm going with this, it's all off the top of my head which could be a good or bad thing. But it seems to me that society has cut out the middle man of education, to leave us as un-intelligent socialites. Well, at least I'll have a McJob when I'm seventy.
Anyway, back to the point.
I've found the break from blogging over the last week quite useful to be honest, I am a fan of breaks, tea breaks, toilet breaks, cigarette breaks, if I sound like a slacker, that's because I am. I also think that today's slack generation ("generation x" as they used to call it) get a bad reputation for being slack. I mean, if there was anything worth working for I'm sure (some of us) would put in a little more effort.
It's dawned on me that's it's been over ten years since the first publication of "Generation X" (by Douglas Coupland, read it if you haven't) and the themes and ideas that run through the story still seem true to life in the twenty-first century world. Twenty-somethings are working McJobs for minimum wage (at least it's good in perspective to sweat-shop work and child labour) and have absolutely no goals or ambition. That is except to drive to secluded areas, sit around, talk and smoke tremendous amounts of cigarettes. Now we can't even afford an education to get the well paid job to leave behind for luxurious life of generation x.
I don't really know where I'm going with this, it's all off the top of my head which could be a good or bad thing. But it seems to me that society has cut out the middle man of education, to leave us as un-intelligent socialites. Well, at least I'll have a McJob when I'm seventy.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
I thought I'd use today's blog to whine about what a pickle I'm in regarding my stay in Australia.
I've got three months until my return (but I can extend it until the end of October) to blighty, I have hardly any money, and I've only seen Sydney, Byron Bay and Melbourne. What the bloody hell do I do? (Sorry for sounding so English). I need to work more, that's obvious, but I've got no idea where to go should I get the money saved.
Ah bollocks, I'm going to end up picking fruit!
Sorry for such a dire blog, I've been smoking a bit of green and mind isn't in a productive frame of mind. I really should sit down and write when I've got something to write. Never mind, maybe I'll think of something at work.
I've got three months until my return (but I can extend it until the end of October) to blighty, I have hardly any money, and I've only seen Sydney, Byron Bay and Melbourne. What the bloody hell do I do? (Sorry for sounding so English). I need to work more, that's obvious, but I've got no idea where to go should I get the money saved.
Ah bollocks, I'm going to end up picking fruit!
Sorry for such a dire blog, I've been smoking a bit of green and mind isn't in a productive frame of mind. I really should sit down and write when I've got something to write. Never mind, maybe I'll think of something at work.
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
I thought for today's entry (of a blog that is, not the penetration of anything into anything else, well, not right now, I'm sat in an internet cafe), I'd give a little background as to who am I, hopefully it will help make more sense of my writings.
I'm a twenty year old, British backpacker in Australia (I know there's hundreds of us). I've had a go at university and thought it was a bit crap (well, the place not the course, I won't be going to Stoke-on-Trent in a hurry again, a common point of view apparently). I've settled for working mind numbing, spirit crushing low paid jobs to fund my travels, and finally (after a good ten years) I think I've decided what I want to do in life.
Write.
This blog then, as I see it, is a sort of practice ground. I've noticed that practicing doesn't quite make perfect, but it does improve (I've been playing the guitar for eight years and now I can play somewhat more than "baa baa black sheep"). This blog is also something of a retreat for me from everything else, pouring my mind onto a website that I know no more than about half-a-dozen people are going to read is relaxing and therapeutic.
I've now just got to decide what to do with my life when I go back home to (what my parents call) 'the real world' (as apposed to the one I'm living in now, where the sky is made of honey, trees sing lullabies, hunger does not exist, but hamburgers eat people). Do I decide to continue on my course of mundane jobs and travelling (I'd like to go to India sometime), or do I study, amass a huge debt and work shitty jobs, while educating myself on my chosen career and learning a little more (what more can I learn?! well I guess I've learnt a few things while travelling) about myself.
I do miss the realm of ridiculously cheap beer that is Union bars, it's a bloody rip-off out here!
I'm a twenty year old, British backpacker in Australia (I know there's hundreds of us). I've had a go at university and thought it was a bit crap (well, the place not the course, I won't be going to Stoke-on-Trent in a hurry again, a common point of view apparently). I've settled for working mind numbing, spirit crushing low paid jobs to fund my travels, and finally (after a good ten years) I think I've decided what I want to do in life.
Write.
This blog then, as I see it, is a sort of practice ground. I've noticed that practicing doesn't quite make perfect, but it does improve (I've been playing the guitar for eight years and now I can play somewhat more than "baa baa black sheep"). This blog is also something of a retreat for me from everything else, pouring my mind onto a website that I know no more than about half-a-dozen people are going to read is relaxing and therapeutic.
I've now just got to decide what to do with my life when I go back home to (what my parents call) 'the real world' (as apposed to the one I'm living in now, where the sky is made of honey, trees sing lullabies, hunger does not exist, but hamburgers eat people). Do I decide to continue on my course of mundane jobs and travelling (I'd like to go to India sometime), or do I study, amass a huge debt and work shitty jobs, while educating myself on my chosen career and learning a little more (what more can I learn?! well I guess I've learnt a few things while travelling) about myself.
I do miss the realm of ridiculously cheap beer that is Union bars, it's a bloody rip-off out here!
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