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a polaroid is all you take away
Mar. 17th, 2006
01:39 pm - Drowning and other such useful events
"I woke up to the sun shining and the smell of old socks in the air. A backpackers hostel, with all the associated disease and detritus. The sky outside would probably be described (by a person with a far greater degree of succinct wit and intelligence than I) as reminding you of all those childhood summer days, splashed in aqua-blue Dulux paint and stretched across the ceiling for all to admire (or some such bollocks anyway)
It was, for sake of argument, a lovely day. What better a day than to visit the beach I thought. For that is what one is expected to do to fully appreciate such a day. And besides, it's only 30 seconds down the road, there's really no excuse. And besides, Newcastle is one of those Australian towns built on surfing. Heck, it's even a destination on the world circuit. You'd think they'd have a half decent beach, no?
Well they did. Miles and miles of the stuff, full of toned tanned Australian citizens. People frolicking by the water. Or riding the waves a little further out. Or merely just kicking back and looking beautiful.
Naturally I felt completely out of place.
If this were a scene in a movie, and naturally this is how I've come to imagine all such episodes of my life. The camera would first catch a glimpse of me walking down the sloped path leading to the coastal road overlooking the beach. You would see me gainly trying, but ultimately failing, to prevent my 'Boogie Board' (a ridiculously bad name I've always maintained, hence the quotations) from taking the wind as its partner and dancing off down the road. Dressed in a tatty t-shirt and old, ill-fitting swimming shorts the viewer would appreciate how unprepared I was for the whole adventure.
When I reached the coast road, that came out from the town centre and swept round and then off further down the coast, the audience would deduce from my crest-fallen face that I'd glimpsed something but quite what this was was still open to interpretation. The camera angle would then seamlessly switch to a few from behind my back and the viewer would understand at this moment that the beach was the cause of my angst. Quite why my face had shown the best attempts to look manly and not to cry would become immediately apparent as the sweeping orchestral score would accompany the camera zooming further out to show a spectacular vista of sand, sea and beach people.
By remaining in the bottom-right of the screen the viewer would be provided with the contradiction I demonstrated with the beach people and how woefully out of place I undoubtedly was (a scene involving my swimming shorts appearing to have been soiled would later be cut by the Film Censors Committee).
Shaking myself out of my reverie I recalled the reason I had believed that this had been a good idea. I remembered lazy summer afternoons on the beaches back home. Empty sands; gently breaking rollers; that warm, deep red-glow of the late-day sun. Basic nostalgia if it boils down to it. Oh yeah, and that jumping on one of these souped up dinner trays was basically as easy as pie, back in my youth. So I'd decided to have another go.
And, having assured the hostel that yes, I could operate one of these things, thank you very much. I was let loose for the afternoon.
And that was the first mistake.
You see people; I should probably outline a few details for you. Basically, I'm an awful swimmer. Genuinely awful. You know the kid who hates sports? Yeah, that wasn't me, that was some other guy (I was actually in teams for stuff, like, sports and stuff) but whenever swimming season rolled round again, you could count on it that it would be me and the kid who hated sports coming last, again and again, whenever the teachers decided to race us, "Just for fun". My legs and arms just couldn't move fast enough and I ended up inhaling more water than displacing it. When I was about 4 my mum literally had to bribe me with stickers to get me anywhere near the swimming lessons I had been optimistically signed up for. Me and water sports just don’t get along.
Someone should have really reminded me of this on this day.
So I got down on the beach and strode with a purpose I was non-to aware of, down to the shore. I'd taken nay three steps when it became apparent that I was no longer in possession of the soles of my feet. I was evidently ill for the primary school lesson where the heat-retention capabilities of sand were explained. Having sufficiently heated my feet to a foodstuff vaguely resembling bacon rashers I lightly sprinted to the sea.
This arrival on the shoreline occurred somewhat earlier than I had anticipated and I was now faced with the realisation that these gently breaking rollers were a good deal larger close up that they had appeared from the relative safety of the road. It as akin to standing at the base of a moderately tall building and looking up. And then getting mild vertigo.
Geez, these things were taller than me! How..wh…di…no…no (words were difficult to come by) they don’t make them like this back home, was the most sense I could make.
As my initial hysteria sub-sided my self-conscious kicked in and I realised how much of a fool I must be presenting myself as. Poor little past white-boy, the catcalls came in as, can't hack a little bit of water, some wisecrack. Ahhhh Diddummss, collective jeering.
So I ran in.
*Cut to camera set up on the viewing platform just above the beach. Toned, tanned boy of around eighteen years of age bounds confidently into the sea, effortlessly leaps the initial small-breakers on the shore and dives straight into the large 6 footer on the verge of breaking.
"He couldn't possibly have made that" the calls come from the beach as large numbers are gripped by this unprecedented show of bravado.
Remarkably the boy breaks surfaces and without breaking stroke paddles effortlessly, but with significant haste, to the aid of the beautiful drowning woman he'd spied from the shoreline. Scooping the fair lady up and onto his board he turns and in the same motion guides them both back to the shore.
The beach rises as one to applaud this demonstration of human courage.
-Cut to beautiful lady declaring undying love to boy-
-Cut to hotel room later same day-
And fade out. *
Ok. So, in my defence nobody had really ever advised me as to how you're meant to tackle the waves breaking on the shore. Apparently you're meant to dive through them. You're not meant to jump over them. I was not aware of that, thank you so much for providing me with the information to prevent myself from looking stupid.
Seriously, someone should be giving this sort of advise out the minute you step onto the beach.
"Excuse me sir, are you aware of the need to…"
Interrupting. "Yes. Yes. You ignorant fool. I did this at home. Of course I know."
"Oh. Ok sir. Sorry sir."
So maybe I should have listened. But I did realise my mistake as I attempted to leap six feet in the air and then over a substantial body of water. Most people would.
Now, I don't know how many of you have come close to drowning. I would hope none of you have. Incidentally, did you hear that it's apparently a great way to die?! Quite how is a mystery. Who did they ask? Is there some sort of device to interview the dead? Who knows?
Anyway, for those of you who maybe new to the whole drowning experience I can assure you that it is an altogether uncomfortable and unnerving one.
First off there's the initial blow. A cubic metre of water is just about one of the heaviest things ever and it packs quite a punch. So just being hit smack in the chest is enough to knock whatever wind you may have been fortunate to have stored away, out of you.
For any fighter, that would be enough. C'mon, you don't kick a man when he's down do you? Well water does, apparently.
Having knocked me off my feet she - so the ocean is classed as taking on the female form right? So I'm getting beaten up by both the non-entity that is water and also by a girl? Doesn't do much for self-esteem - then thinks it'll be a laugh to engulf me. Twisting me and turning me over and over for an alarmingly long period, so that up could be down for all I know, and forcing me to breath in large quantities of a substance that was very much not the oxygen I am used to.
And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. '"I'm alive! Ha-ha!"
And then the next wave arrived and the process repeated itself but with a little less available air and a lot less dignity.
And then it happened again.
And then, for good measure, for a fourth time.
As you can imagine, four such episodes is hardly a bundle of fun, but after I re-surfaced after this last dunking I found myself, mercifully, on the other side of the breaking point.
Genius I though. Let's ride some waves. Ain't nothing can touch me now (seamlessly morphing into a country and western song). I noticed that I'd managed to float somewhat away from the rest of the beach frolickers and the surfer dudes, who could actually stand on their boards. My first thought was that at least I wasn't going to get hit by some out-of-control, sugar-hyped kid on a board, but as my brain stopped concerning itself with drowning it immediately fixated on that other concern of the sea. Sharks.
Of the three things that I'm sure will end up causing my death, sharks are one - the other two being plane crash and drowning. I'm still unsure as to why I continue to venture into the sea - so as you can imagine, this was a rather large concern.
Figuring that this was more than enough sea for one day I started scanning the horizon for waves while at the same time writing the headlines that would appear in the daily's tomorrow.
'Hottest day on record'
and in a small subsection hidden on page B32
'Idiot killed on beach, shark complains at slipping foodstuff quality'
Well, I eventually found a wave and tried to remember the correct procedure for staying on. And I though I had it
1-Start paddling ahead of wave.
2-Allow wave to catch up to you.
3-Ride wave in to shore.
And I did have it. I started paddling. I got on the wave.
And then someone tour out the little page between two and three that said don't be an idiot and suddenly the wave wasn't there anymore.
It may not have looked like it but to me It felt exactly like when the Coyote would run out of land and he just sort of hung in the air for that extra couple of seconds that allowed him to comprehend what came next.
That extra spilt second as I noticed the lack of water beneath me and the familiar appearance of the wave beside me enabled me to realise that what was about to follow would occur with a certain amount of déjà vu, and a great deal more pain and discomfort.
At this point I'd like to claim a moment of Zen enlightenment occurred. That I saw the purpose of being here. That I was spoken to by some higher power.
But I didn't.
I just drowned. Again.
There's some sort of metaphor in there I'm sure of it.
Dec. 8th, 2005
Nov. 25th, 2005
06:44 pm
I just read this article...
http://www.mobylives.com/Lissner_Y.h
and i was really surprised at how much it got to me.
it's the whole media frenzy about having to categorize every-bloody-thing that they lay their hands on. it happens with everything. the new velvet underground. the new gates. the new salinger.
it's almost like the ability to judge something on its merits, as opposed to its comparative values, has been lost. and it's sad.
for a start. generation y? do you feel you belong to that? fit its criteria? it's just a scene.
i actually think it's for the better that a so called 'spokesperson' hasn't been 'anointed' (who decides these things?). is it not far better to have a diverse and interesting literary field rather than a pigeonholed coupland and assorted clones?
does anyone else see the contradiction in writing books for the mtv generation?
Nov. 19th, 2005
09:30 pm
down in albion our songs are underproduced.
but we don't talk about that.
are those old tracks? sloppily produced.
i'd like to talk about that.
talk over
drug abuse and
wasted time
violence in studios
and a pale thin boy with eyes forlorn.
mr. doherty, you have a lot to answer for.
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disappointedNov. 14th, 2005
Nov. 13th, 2005
04:38 pm
hilarious social situation #2
i was at work last night when these two, patently under-age, kids came into the shop. They sortof wandered around the shop for about five minutes. the magazine rack, to pick up an 'intellectual' paper; the frozen foods, for some broccoli; the sandwiches, as a light snack. They then proceeded to the alcoholic beverages and stood around picking out vintage port and classic '94 Haut Boudeyron.
Confidently strolling up to the counter it almost pained me to i.d. them and see the crestfallen looks on their faces as all their hard work came undone.
"what..me? You want my i.d.? i'm twenty-one but whatever."
the facial hair they'd tried to muster amounted to little more than a thin film of sporadic growth.
"well can i see it then please"
"um..yeah mine's in my car" a classic line "but nick's got his"
*'nick' hands me his i.d.*
"i'm sorry sir but we can't accept this"
*adopts confrontational voice*
"how come?"
"for starters we don't accept European driving licenses (because they don't exist) and secondly this picture doesn't bear any resemblance to you (it appeared to be an old picture of his dad that he thought he looked like)"
that's the point they gave up the ghost and left and i remembered the exact feeling when i was the customer with the fake and the methods we used to adopt to appear older than we really were. it's funny now thinking about the laughs we must have provided to those shop assistants and how they were ALWAYS going to i.d. us.
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amusedNov. 12th, 2005
10:59 pm
this came on the radio yesterday...
"....the three minute silence that will occur today at 11am commemorates those British soldiers who gave the ultimate sacrifice for the protection of their country, England...."
*shakes head out of sheer embarrassment for this sorry state of affairs*
Nov. 11th, 2005
08:03 pm
'can we please all stand and have a moment of silence for those soldiers who died. and can we now have a moment of silence for those soldiers who killed them.'
Nov. 10th, 2005
08:29 pm
today was a sad day for two reasons
1.nikki, an incredibly spoiled; self-centered; and naive colleague of mine thought that yesterday (the ninth day of the eleventh month) was THE 9/11. and i had to put her right.
she also volunteered to be the only cashier open during the two minute silence for armistice day tomorrow.
she wants to work during the one time that we honour the thousands that died so that she could have that priveledge. and she wants to work. she wants to be disrespectful. it's wrong.
2.i had to explain, not remind, explain to another of my co-workers exactly what armistice day was....
um...ignorance scares me.
crushedNov. 8th, 2005
08:33 pm
i sat next to such the socially inept person at work today
i get into work, sitting around, serving, dishing out money, the usual.
and in a lull in customers she turns to me and says
"on the bus this morning there was this girl rubbing lotion on her legs and they were hairy"
and that's all she said
what do you say to that?
i mean really?
can someone help me?
plus she had sandwich in her teeth...
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frustratedNov. 3rd, 2005
05:25 pm - NME tastes shit
oooohhhh
have you heard the new Alfonzo track? it's like soooo now. with its throbbing bass and oh so arch nod to late Padre Pio during their Housebound session days. and the guitar lines that skitter over the top and underneath and any which way and lead you off to the hills.
and thats before Jesper Artwolf unleashes this primal howl that recalls early Colossal Apostle if fathered a love child with Karen O in the back-room of Pavements flat.
but you probably wouldn't like it because it hasn't even got a tune
that's so 2004
Nov. 1st, 2005
05:13 pm
i appear to have recently developed an interesting knack for burning bridges, and i'm not sure how...
i may have also managed to solve a medical conundrum. i've genetically mutated to become immune to the effects of tiredness, it's quite spectacular. it's just work work work all the time, almost like i don't need to sleep
*maniacal cackling*
maybe i'm an insomniac, or hallucinating...
this could get interesting
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tiredOct. 25th, 2005
08:51 pm
We're going to get a van
and we're gonna go on a "road trip"
and we're going to get a convoy going
and guitars
and make money
and connect
and keep dreaming
that it might just happen
only 35 days....
excitedOct. 24th, 2005
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apatheticOct. 23rd, 2005
01:43 am
i find it very weird how your average person can just accept mediocrity in their lives as if it were the norm.
take today for example, i was out delivering at nine this morning and there were people out, already pissed off, going about their shopping and whatnot, and getting uptight and frustrated how things weren't going their way.
i went into the market pharmacy and this one woman was complaining because the shop's shipment hadn't arrived this morning.
wtf! like it was the cashier's fault?!
but just as long as you have good honest values and uphold your moral integrity, that's all we ask. Is that it?! Is that all we want from life? Well fuck that.
i'm always worried that i'll be dead by tomorrow...
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pensiveOct. 21st, 2005
09:38 pm
www.nationstates.net
*maniacal cackling*
+ i officially can't wait for the new strokes album and...psst...i may have illegally downloaded some of it...don't tell anyone...please...
it sounds awesome...
Oct. 20th, 2005
04:45 pm
i've just seen three emo kids (male) picking out hair dye in a chemist
emo kid #1: "let's get some red"
emo kid #2: "no, no. we've already got red"
emo kid #3: "yeah we do. i don't like red anyway, it clashes with my colouring. let's get some more black"
i've only just stopped laughing
amusedOct. 19th, 2005
09:20 pm
TO THE STONER CREW
get over it; no-one wants to know when you last smoked it; when you next plan to smoke it; where you're going to smoke it; how there's just not as much around as there used to be; how you got "so damn stoked last weekend that i just, like, ate a whole variety pack of cheesie wotsits";
smoking that shit fucks you up.
TO THE EMO CREW
your life really isn't that bad; lighten up; you're just emotionally un-equipped middle-class kids; you're lost, but don't beat yourself up about it, we all are; so smile; and maybe if you stopped listening to one-dimensional palm-muting with accompanying screaming you might see the sun; which would be a good thing, have you seen how white you guys are?!
TO THE LADS
there's more to life than booze.
oh, also, there's more to life than getting drunk.
and white shirts
just stop it
no..really..i don't want to see how much you've drunk....i believe you...seriously...no, i don't want a fight, who do you think would win? have you seen me?
TO THE SCENESTERS
you know i heard about this new fashion for non pseudo-intellectuals but you probably wouldn't be interested, it's quite exclusive...
nowOct. 18th, 2005
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