SMOKEY GHOST

Oli and Callum have been productive.

Introducing a track by Hans Pucket.

(artwork by me)

Smokey Ghost

Thanks Thom.

We Are House

My parents are in the process of building their dream home. It has really been a long time coming. When it was initially designed, all three of us kids were living at home. Now, Oli and I may only get a couple months in it before we move away to bigger things. But I know it's going to be the perfect place to come back home to. And I'm still getting my own room.

Anyway, we're at the stage where its finally looking like a house. It has an almost-roof and everything! It seems they really started making progress when Oli and I stopped pretending to be labourers (read "getting-in-the-way-ers) and got different jobs that we could actually do. So last Tuesday I took Paige to see it in all it's skeletal construction-site glory.

(*click on photos for a better view)


This is the view from the front driveway. To the left is the almost-garage, and to the right of that is the almost-front entrance way. Above the garage is a sweet alcove like space which will one day be utilised as a band/(wild) rumpus room.

This is a photo of Paige standing in my parents almost-bedroom.


Here, Paige is making use of the almost-roof by sticking her head through it.

This is Adrian, my ex-manager. He's up very high, isn't he? Hahaha... He knows what he's doing, don't worry. That almost-roof doesn't stand a chance!


This is a cool photo. Its Paige crouching inside my closet in my very own almost-bedroom. Yeah, I know, but Adrian assures me that when the house is finished it won't have such a draft.


And here, in all its autumnal beauty, is the view from my bedroom window. I love it. Second stories man! It is a vast improvement on my current view: a seedy overgrown tennis court through a chain-link fence.

"One day son, all this will be yours!"

Good News; Bad News

Good News; Forty Eight Hours

This past weekend I partook in the 48 Hours film making competition for the fourth time. And as what usually happens with 48 Hours, I had one of the most blisteringly productive and ludicrously enjoyable weekends of my life, and I don't know whether thats because of the thrill of the race, or the high that is film making itself. Seeing something that came from your own mind (or in this case, the minds of a bevy of incredibly creative and talented people) grow and develop and turn into something way cooler, and way real-er than your thoughts is outrageously exciting. It's a welcome reminder that this is what I need to be doing with my life. It is honestly so pointlessly obvious I don't know why I'm sitting here telling you when I can be out there doing it already, but I am. So stop arguing with me. Films man. Films. It's the only thing in my head at the moment. Well... not the only thing... (*tee he hee's). But the people around me can probably agree it's the only thing I talk about.

The other cool thing that this weekend did was show me just how awesome and talented my friends are. Like, for one, saying they'd do this for no other reason than as a way to have fun, or be creative, or as a favour, or whatever reasons they had, I am very grateful for. Also, everyone involved just gave it everything. The writing group... oh man, the arguments we had! The ACTORS! I mean christ, I did not see that coming. Brilliant. SO brilliant. And the music. Man, my brother is a god. And we were a team. For this one weekend we had this film. And it was the most important thing in our lives for a short while. Everyone just got fearlessly involved with it, and it was a beautiful thing to watch.

For those involved, sorry for being a cranky/uncommunicative git. You are all brilliant. Thank you. The film turned out amazing, and I shall definitely be posting it as soon as I can.



Bad News; Forty Eight (and a Half) Hours.

Yeah, so we kind of took a wee bit too long, put a wee bit too much awesome into the film, that it took a wee bit longer than forty eight hours to finish, and so we got disqualified. We can blame schedules or technology or karma, but I really don't care that we did. The film stands as something I am proud to be a part of, and a wicked memory, and a perfect encouragement, and as experiences go I can't really ask for more.


Today is a win for optimism.

Now play this:

Jobber

I've officially "settled in" to my new job. Well, I can't really say new, as my previous job at the Coffee Club only lasted a day. And it wasn't even a job, because I wasn't ever employed there. It was just a temp day, like training. See how I went. This was a while back actually.

It was going really swell. I had to bus into town and everything, and wear head to toe blacks. It was from ten till two, and I got there a bit early and so went to the library and read Roald Dahl's excellent Tales of the Unexpected that I got given by Nat when he left for The Big Salt (I don't think any ones ever called England The Big Salt before, but it was worth a shot).

I was training in the Kitchen by this guy whose name I don't remember. He let me wear his coffee club head cap thing because I had kind of long hair, and he wanted me to feel 'part of the team'. It was nice. We made awkward banter, and he told me about the perks of the job, basically showing me the ropes. I love ropes. He showed me how to make the breakfast foods, use the grill thing, make a huge batch of scrambled egg mix (I had to shell two huge trays of eggs and then mix in 2 litres of cream with a hand blender. It was awesome, but super gross), and do dishes. The dishes were easy, and involved an enormous industrial dish washer. I mainly did them because they didn't involve a recipe and made me feel like I was contributing and not just getting in the way.

This Korean guy named Q came in when shit got busy over lunch. I couldn't really understand a lot of what he was saying. He told me a funny story about sword fighting while I sliced a dozen or so tomatoes. He was pretty cool, and was alarmingly relaxed for what for me seemed like a high pressure job. I guess it was because he was just really good at it. The focus these guys had was mad. And such tough hands. I was told that I would get a lot of burns. I was prepared to bleed for this job.

Then, about ten minutes before the end of my shift, there was an enormous fuck off earthquake. The kitchen was quite small, and the two big fridges slammed against the opposite wall, almost trapping the other two guys in. All the people in the cafe were screaming, and I was almost certain the building was going to collapse. The sound of it. You really understand the weight of concrete and wood and plaster when you remember that it's there, above you. But everyone knows about the earthquake now. It was the worst possible thing any of us needed. I would almost complain about its inconvenience, but that's really a bad way to think about it. That general "fuck this" sneered across every ones faces. These earthquakes will make cynics of us all.

But with time comes perspective, naturally. I think every ones sort of gathered themselves. I understand where I'm at now, and have had time to place my feet back on the ground. I think it's just the uncertainty that scares me more than anything. I didn't really realise how much of a step everything is, whether its planned or not. I really hope it's leading somewhere useful.

I can't stand feeling unproductive. That's what got me through those weeks after the quake, keeping on making goals. The job was a goal, and now I've got it. Now I've finally got something to make my time more valuable. Something to complain about. And ultimately, a way of achieving the bigger goals.

I had this theory that you should never really tell people the bigger goals, because then there's more pressure on achieving them, and also making you less open to other options. I have recently muted this theory on the basis of a startling realisation:

I am allowed to change my mind.