Drunk blogging #2: Long distance relationships

Why? Why? Why? Why?

I know why.

Some misguided attempt to save money and travel around the world.

But being two and a half states and a strait of water away from one's heart?

Not such a good idea.

Every visit only makes it worse...reminding me of what I am missing out on.

The peace and quiet of the Southern Highlands of New Souths Wales.

I used to dream of living there, or at least running away there...

But instead of being there helping my beloved I'm in fucking Tasmania.

Do I revoke whining rights if it's self-inflicted?

Image credit

If only.

Sigh.

Things that bother me: in which I drink wine and rant about things that annoy me (otherwise known as drunk blogging)

Well, my productivity levels did not increase due to my wonderful breakfast. I spent the day perusing the links in Feministe's Shameless Self-Promotion Sunday.

So, to kid myself into thinking I have actually done something I'm going to publish a rant I prepared earlier, with some additions. It shall be the first in a series entitled things that bother me; in which I shall drink my Merlette and rant to my heart's content.

Capitalism

Just because lots of countries are doing it, does not mean it is right.

Just because the people at the top of the food chain are earning lots of money and justifying this by saying that they worked oh-so-hard to earn more money than they could possibly spend in their lives, does not mean everyone that works hard could ever earn as much as them.

They should try telling that to the Chinese potters in Jing de Zheng who are working themselves into a painful early death caused by silicosis to earn mere cents per item.


All in the name of global economy. But in the world of Capitalism, people - just like monies - are expendable. Actually people are more expendable than money.

Oh wait, did I just use people in a supposed Communist country as an example of Capitalism?

Why yes, I did.

That is because I don't believe any attempts that have been made at creating Communist nations actually successfully created Communist nations. Hmm. That is another rant for another day.
From what I've read I don't think that ethnic-(or any other kind of)cleansing is actually fundamental to Communist principles.

I digress.

Just because some people worked hard for their money, does not mean that everyone can work hard.


The fact that not everyone cannot work hard for it, does not mean those who cannot do not deserve basic welfare, healthcare, living standards etc etc.

I am and always have been bothered by the necessity for money. Living in a major city like Sydney only exaccerbated this.

But it was never more obvious to me than when I was doing the 9 to 5 except it was 5am to 2pm. It started out at 7 but when a staff member left I ended up on the 5am starts.

The seven am starts were bearable. I could get home and still do things all afternoon. But when I had to get up at 4am for a 5am start I basically couldn't function when I got home. No matter how much sleep I had, I was exhausted for months. The job had taken control of my life.

Except, what really capped it off was that the job was making coffee for the 9-5ers.
My god.

What a bunch of whiners.

Every day I was reminded what day it was (I am normally not to bothered by this one, having always worked in hospitality weekends made no difference to me except that it meant there were more people around). I learnt that Wednesday is "hump day." I thought it was something else. Can't you do that every day? How far we were from the weekend. When you could do what? Get drunk and forgot how shit your job is. Or watch television. Watch DVDs. Watch movies.

And with every week that passes by you are only so far from retirement when you can do what, exactly? Really enjoy that widescreen television you spent all your hard earned money on.

Excuse middle-class white man with a mortgage, widescreen television, 4WD and 2.5 children, if you are wishing each minute, each day, each week, each fucking year away: you need a new job. Find something you fucking love and fucking enjoy.

If enough people fucking do it then we have a fucking revolution on our hands people!

Shock of the cock: part one

I'm half way through my bottle of clean skin rose (actually it's a merlette), so no better time than the present to write about what I have decided to call the 'shock of the cock.'

Yes, my friends, I am talking of the phallus. The big, hard, erect phallus that is even now penetrating my very consciousness. But in what form? No, I am not looking at gay porn. I am talking, very specifically about a very specific approach to art making.