Are the youth of each generation slowing bringing society to its knees? Adam puts Dan and his doilies somewhat at ease. And how ‘bout those internet freedoms? Are they quickly drawing to a close? Put on your Google Glass and take a peek behind the kimono.
Münchausen Syndrome [Wikipedia] Münchausen syndrome is a psychiatric factitious disorder wherein those affected feign disease, illness, or psychological trauma to draw attention, sympathy, or reassurance to themselves.
We discuss the whole “older generation thinking the world is going to hell because ‘youth doing CRAZY THINGS!’”. And I learn of some ways that I’m judgemental of the way some people choose to spend their time – which is always enlightening!
Perhaps for some, there really isn’t anything in life more fulfilling that spending twelve hours a day playing WoW! Who am I to something something.
After watching a live taping of Shaun Micallef’s “Mad as Hell” television pogramme, Adam and Dan talk urban urination and being a good audience member. They then hop over to the topic of jealousy and security in monogamous and polyamorous relationships.
Greens senator Scott Ludlam delivers a mocking invitation for the prime minister to visit Western Australia before the re-run of the Senate election. He urges Tony Abbott to drop his ‘excruciatingly boring three-word slogans’ and come to a state that has noted his policies on everything from the shark cull and Medicare to education and asylum seekers. He tells the prime minister: “Every time you open your mouth the Green vote goes up.”
A gently spoken but damning summary of every completely screwed up thing that Tony Abbott and his team are doing to Australia.
I feel kind of helpless; I don’t come into contact with people that would have voted for his and Murdoch’s fear-mongering, and even if I did – how do you reason with an unreasonable person?
I imagine one can only try to implant seeds of sense through kind words to make any difference, ‘cause if there’s one thing I know: yelling at people doesn’t help them understand how their ideas or arguments are fallacious.
Wherein John and Merlin discuss John’s recent experience at a Miley Cyrus concert as the only non-20-year-old female out of 10,000 in attendance. From there, they meanders into a terrific discussion of selfie culture.
What animalistic tendencies have you noticed in others and yourself? Do you plan big trips ahead of time, or as you go? When it comes to group situations, do you stay with the flock or eat Mexican, alone? And what smell defeated Adam’s adventurous spirit?
I walked with my walkers into this store like I would any ole storey store: forwards, frontal, fully nude, with upper lip searching the corners of the room for stray wallabii to ingest.
Like a spray of playing cards against a gyrating wall, I blessed the space with my humble presence.
But what’s this? What’s this that exists for here and now in this chirpy, casually dressed food dispatch environ?
MMMMMMMM - a yummy girrrrrl!
She talked things at me with smiles and filleted pistachio nuts, all the while retaining her dazling bin-liner blue eyes of sparklement in her dutifully appointed eye-socketeers.
I tracked her eye-ball movements with my equally roundish eye blingers, blinking every now and then, every then and now.
"I’ll eat the pizza!" I spluttered out as word-gooses; it was a pizza shop.
So far, so great .
"I’ll have blonde curls and blue eyes on my gourmet pizza, thank-you very much!" This is something I did not say.
Instead, I pulled a painfully blunt fragment of possum bone from my invisible pant pocket, and violently carved my order into her forearm, to affirm my verbal request.
"That tickles! He he!" she said, whilst saying "That tickles", followed by a donkey-like "Hee hee" he-hawing.
I think I need to bone up on my bone carving skillish, as she misread my pizzerie hors d’oeuvre (as later, a gourmet pizza with baby spinach on top snatched its way into my mulletesque goolet gulletane).
In any case… Top score! Many points. Donkey delights. The food was good. BUT. You know what was better? The post-foodal-conversation. OHHHEMMPEEEE!
Flicking her flick-licious hair this way and that (like a ball-swallowing clown set to maximum speed) that juicy pixie pearl in my heart’s leather bagette saddled her serene self up and over to my platitudes of greasy remains, to take it back to the Round and White herd of fancy flats.
BLOODY HELL! More talk!
I joked (as I DOOO) about not ordering a desert as I remembered that I’d already eaten three ice-creams earlier that day, as well as a healthy slice of unhealthy cheese-cake.
THESE CLAIMS SOUNDED UNTRUE. MADE UP. DRESSED DOWN. But they are true! I ate all of those things, damn it!
She danced around my fauxish apology with understanding and professional BEAUTIFUL EYES AND SMILES OF FUN AND KINDNESS and as I walked backwards out of our love cove, bowing with the utmost polished poise of many kings and statesmen a top of divine lemon icing, I explained how we were meant to be together for the rest of our natural lives and maybe into the technological singularity where we would unceremoniously meld into one amorphous hive-mind.
She sped over to me at the speed of sweetness whilst at the same time, throwing my plate and cutlery into the kitchen worm hole to her right - like a bolt of lightning – all without losing my engazement.
Lady-of-mine lifted my lowered head with one certain index finger to my chin, guiding my face level to her own. A glorious halo of white and gold light framed her beauty. Her eyes spoke in concert with her lips:
"Never again shall we not know this and now and us."
A chill flew up my spine and burst out of the crown of my head with dizzy sparks; fear dropped from my being and disappeared into the floor. That’s it. It was done.
Our fairytale had begun, and I was utterly melted – from the inside, out.
Pretty sure I woke at 8am and stared at my phone ‘till 10am. And I’ll never know how it did it, but my phone didn’t blink once. Not once!
With the day’s competition behind me, it was time to eat food and finish that frozen brown thing with the brown sticky stuff on top of it. MMM.
Music Status: just a bass line, thus far. An ace-line of bass-line.
Then down to business business.
Today I needed to edit a weekly podcast! Fast forward a few hours and I had THIS:
Pretty violent, I know. Pieces of human audio, hacked into many, many pieces. The above image is post-blood clean-up.
This is the reason many Skype podcasts only record the conversation at one end, rather than doing a “double ender" (or editing for bleeps, bloops and blops).
Music Status: just a bass line, thus far. No human voices harmed in that creation.
With much sitting having taken place, I needed to go for walkies. So I walked down to the local general store and purchased ICE-CREAM and bread.
"Thick’n’Rich" caramel Bread in a Bottle(!).
I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure that the check-out chick at the general store wants to marry me. But I said “No.” She said, “Huh?”
I guess it’s over – officially.
With that traumatic event having transpired, three ice-cream cones later I decided to wipe my emotional slate clean by going inside inside – and read a book.
Rescued from a crowded second-hand bookstore in Hobart.
Louise Hay has been around forever, but I’ve never read her work.
Reading “You Can Heal Your Life” is a treat, mostly ‘cause I feel like I’m walking the halls of an ancient structure, first published in 1984, then reprinted for Australia in 1988.
I know Hay uses affirmations a lot in her work – which I’m a little dubious of – but ten pages in, it’s reflecting a lot of what I’ve read else-where (that I agree with) and some of what I’ve experienced to be true for myself.
It’s focus is on letting go of emotional issues and cultivating self-love, which can be a very icky term if one is rather far from such a place.
Until I innately understood the importance of self-love, that was a very icky term and concept for me!
Music Status: a lonely bass line. (Ahem.) I am a piece of music with fully fleshed out arrangements for several thousand instruments.
There was an easy piece of musical fruit to pick, that was almost grazing the grass, it hung so low: lyrics.
The lyrics are simple and repetitive, so I wrote them down on my laptop, then made up better ones where I mumble in the original.
Something song-related done!
Now, 5:30pm! Think I’ll make this second recipe I shopped for.
To make any dish, it takes me at least twice as long as the recipe states it will.
But finally, ninety minutes later (of podcast listening), I had something worth eating!
Decorated with oyster mushrooms and lemon juice I forget to add into the dish, earlier – whooooops.
It’s a cranberry something something blah blah. And this is why I don’t bother cooking these kinds of things. They’re so needy!
I’d never heard of oyster mushrooms before, so isn’t my life so much richer for having NO. No. I could do without knowing about the wonders that are oyster mushrooms. But at least this dish tasted half-decent.
I will admit – I felt like quite the cook when pouring some white wine into a pan of spring onions and mushrooms. At least I think it was white wine. I don’t know. Perhaps it was more of an approximation of white wine.
Music Status: a bass line and lyrics. With a dash of cranberry-from-floor.
"Aw shit – better do something more for the song so I don’t crumble into an anxious heap of inflamed bone joints. Maybe I’ll take a production cue from the original version and record some body percussion."
So click my fingers and bang my chest I did – like a true pro.
That’s me pretending to record myself clicking my fingers.
Music Status: a bass line, some lyrics, and some percussion I knew I’d have a “fun” time editing into a coherent percussion track.
So at least I’d done something more on the track. Even though it felt like a cop-out and I still didn’t know what I should do next to make this into more of an actual song.
Whilst pondering the fact that I’d showered one in every three days that I’ve been here (hygiene has nothing to with creativity! If anything, it washes away the creative juices!) a line for the end of the song popped into my head! A beautiful flute and string duet.
So into the studio I sped, through the MIDI instruments I sorted, and down on the digital page I drew this inspired idea.
I can’t tell you how much I love this idea, except by expressing my inability to tell you how much I love it by saying what I said just now.
It’s very pretty and it lifted me out of my “WHADDAFUCKAMIDOINGTHISISPATHETICLAMESHITTERY” anxious frame of mind (which I was in, by the by). And now, if I don’t do anything else on this song, I’ll be happy with just having recorded this pretty piece.
I feel compelled to also express my love for strings of the quartet or orchestral variety; a number of my favourite R&B/soul/chill-out songs have string parts in them.
They are divine.
[Note from my face: time for another ice-cream, chaps? The pimples haven’t got enough juice to push through to the surface!]
Clearly I need to build my “grit" muscle (regarding creative projects).
I’m expecting to be awesome at something I’ve only done, probably, thirty times over ten years, which is clearly pretty ridiculous an expectation. So…
Music Status: a bass line, lyrics, and a pretty instrument line for last few bars of song.
After arriving at “the beach” at the dead of night and loading all of my shite into the beach house, I got to sleep at 4am after eating those red things with the cheese in them. They didn’t taste as nice as I’d hoped.
I then rose far too early at an un-saintly 8am, and spent the morning figuring out which part I needed for a friend’s Mac, so that I could fix it. I ordered the part. Success!
Music Status: no music, yet. But here’s all my “music making shite”. Notice my biggest fan, photo-bombing (far left).
My other load is “things I will eat – at the beach”. Here they are. Five-days-worth. Fruit bowl in a fruit bowl.
That’s a dinga of garlic you can see, poking its head up from between the banana and the lemon, that I think I may have payed $2.63 for. Crazy.
Music Status: no music, yet – only musical fruit. But here is some (literally) top-shelf entertainment for when I need to take a break after heaps and heaps of sweaty, gruelling work at the beach.
Most, if not all of the classics.
Hmm – no “Sleepless in Seattle”.
Hairy hot dogs? or Macbook Air?
After falling asleep for a couple of hours, my first point of order was to systematically rummage through my collection of voice memos from 2006 to present day, to find musical ideas I want to make into fully formed songs; let the gold rush begin!
Above is my minimalist computer set-up. So minimal, in fact, that I don’t even need to turn the screen on. I am one with computer.
Music Status: no music, yet. Just a really minimal feeling of not much.
My voice memos mostly fall into three categories:
1. “”ComedySkits”” There aren’t enough quotation marks to surround that term.
3. DJci-ish Musical ideas that my mum would not take seriously.
Reviewing and sorting hundreds of my ideas reminded me to two things:
a) It’s very useful to note down a “comedy” idea before releasing it to the world, so that I have time review it and realise it’s not funny, before blurting it out in public.
2) I probably don’t need to record about 60% of the “great ideas” that pop into my head. In fact, we very well might have reversed climate change, had I heeded this warning from my future self.
Music Status: no music, yet. Only AM radio-esque mumbled “comedy ideas” recorded into my Sony Walkman™ mobile phone.
Time to take a break and take a stroll down to the beach (so that I can say that I actually went to the beach when I spent a week living in a beach house.)
Government Signage Portraiture: “Pipi Picker”
Above, is my beach-visiting highlight; who knew that government signage could bring me such joy? The Beach Gods – they are the knowers of such suchness.
After finding no bush-tucker down the street (all food places were closed on this here Monday night) I knew I’d have to make my own; luckily I’d brought a fook-tonne of food down with me, allowing me to do just that!
Several hours later, and I present to you… “Tastes-like-thawed-spinach with-pastry-on-top.”
The only thing I didn’t follow on the recipe was buying whole frozen spinach. One whole kilogram of the stuff.
I could only find chopped frozen spinach, and I’ll be damned if “chopped” instead of “whole” spinach would mean the difference between SHIT and GREAT.
I then continued sorting through my voice memos until I couldn’t stay awake. Some stuff has potential! Just needs a few dozen hours of work, is all.
Will tomorrow reveal an idea-nugget so large, that I need help lifting it from out of my external hard-drive, into my computer?
It’s a graph showing the performance of children after they’ve been praised for their intelligence (“you must be smart”) versus their effort (“you must have put a lot of effort into that”), and then given a series of hard problems to try and solve. The kids who are taught that effort counts increase in the number of problems they can solve. Those who are told that they’re smart show a frightening decrease.
Executive Editor Jason Pargin (aka David Wong) joins Cracked Editor-in-Chief Jack O’Brien for a discussion about millennials: why older generations seem to simultaneously fear and hate them, why a generation of people who don’t want to be employed might help our economy, and why millennials may actually be better adapted for a jobless future than everybody else. Throw on your headphones and click play above, go here to subscribe on iTunes or download it here.
This discussion changed the way I think about our society, “dole bludgers” and my own place in this world; kind of profound.