smells like fun: 09/01/2001

Tuesday, September 25

hanging out with Jeff- we're making cd's for ma'n'pa's birthday party this weekend. My punk costume is complete! Hoorah!

Thursday, September 20

Operation Infinite Justice! Infinite Justice! My fucking lord. Words fail me.

Not only is world war three about to break out, but it will start under the wankiest, moronic, ridiculous, monika ever thought up by a sperm-gurgling American general. Infinite Justice! Justice? Against whom, exactly? Wake up and smell the dead terrorists, Bush. Geeezus effing christ.

The world is going mad.

I usually feel guilty about eating and drinking excess amounts of chocolate and coffee during lectures, but seeing as the world is about to end I thought, fuck it. I was also planning on cutting down the amount of alcohol I consume, but I'm thinking about ditching that one. At least until the world ends, anyhoo. This whole 'apocalyptic excuses' for not bothering to eat right, do exercise, live healthy thing is cool. Much better than anything else I've come up with thus far.

Wednesday, September 19

Hi to Michelle- the first visitor to my site. Hope you enjoy the "ironic consumption" pink kitty-cat stylings of the layout. I sure do.

Currently sitting in the office of the Union Recorder, reading rude letters people have witten us about how they think the magazine is a load of pooh. Fair enough, I mean, I used to do exactly the same thing and that's how I got the editorial job. Blah blah- some moron has written that to be a truly better magazine "we should follow the layout style of Rolling Stone"- Sure, while we're at it, why don't we just copy all their fucking articles too, loser.

Can't really concentrate because I'm sitting here listening to the latest Slayer CD called 'God Hates Us All'- it's a total wank. Cover artwork is a picture of a bible with blood dripping over it with nails hammered through it and slayer scrawled on it. I would have loved it if I was 15 again. Yawn. - See what I mean? Criticism of everything surrounding you is unavoidable when you're surrounded by complete idiots and wankers.

I think it's time I left university.

Sunday, September 16

Ow ow ow- I'm sunburnt to a crisp. My hockey team made the major quarter final play-off today but we got our butts kicked 3-0 by Glebe, the nasty cow team. One day I'm going to invent sunscreen that won't come off even when you sweat 10 litres a minute. Then I'll be a billionaire and rule the world with my money.

Wednesday, September 12

Yesterday as part of my course work for Criminology I had to goto Mulawa, the maximum security womens' prison in Silverwater. There are 319 prisoners in there, most of them on drug-related sentences. The place is built on a toxic waste dump site in an industrial area- totally polluted and nasty.

Can I just say that I am no longer entertaining the idea of entering into a life of crime and mayhem. After spending 4 hours being shown around by prison guards, even the occasional joint now seems like too much of a risk. Actually that's crap. But the place did scare the shit out of me.

Everyone is acting like it's the end of days or something. There's a huge TV screen in the middle of Martin Place and everyone from the offices on their lunch breaks was watching the news about the NY Trade Centre attacks on it. The screen is set up almost in the same place it was exactly one year ago for the olympics. Eleena and I were watching the telly there exactly like we watched the olympic grand final of the women's hockey there a year ago.

Monday, September 10

My hockey team got thrashed on the weekend. We played like we were wading through mud: 3-2. Last time we played the same team we won 5-1, so what the fuck's with that?I had 2 shots on goal but Heather's were the ones that made it in... And did I mention that the umpires were SHIT! This means we are 3rd on the ladder going into the semi-finals.

Friday, September 7

I am currently sitting at my desk at work. Things are pretty cruisy- this would be the perfect job, if only I got paid... but that is the life of a volunteer alas. I could totally work here for a few years. The lawyers all wear jeans and leather jackets and go drinking at the Woollomooloo Bay Hotel after work, which is a really interesting pub, because it's on the corner where the Kings Cross junkie crazies in cardboard boxes meets the posho yuppie scum from the finger wharf and W hotel.

Thursday, September 6

Get a load of this Blog I just visited. Can a single person be more vacuous? Sadly, they probably could, but that says more about the pessimistic world-view I am currently nursing, as opposed to semi-redeeming this cotton-ball head.

Below I've attached a great email my friend Tom wrote me last month about his trip to Kabul- and the weird scariness that is the Taliban.

Other than that I am still drunk from last night's escapades. Went drinking with Eleena at a nice little bar in a big posh hotel she used to work at years ago.She became friends with the guy that works there now - (it's so tiny that only one person works there)- and he gave us free long island iced teas. Needless to say we got shitfaced. The night was a complete blur, but I am getting flashbacks. I remember talking to a French guy called- wait for it- Tin tin! No bullshit! But he didn't have red hair or wear jodphurs and a jaunty cap. He looked like Paul Mac funky dj-type person. But then again, I had the Ice Tea goggles on, so he may well have for all I really know.

And now, on to Kabul...

Thankyou Allah. You have returned me safely to Pakistan after ten crazy days in the most bizarre country on earth, Afghanistan.

Its going to be hard to explain why the hell I went, and what the hell the place is like, but in the limited space of an email I'll try and summarise the whole intense experience.

The madness starts when you apply for your visa from the notoriously-suspicious-of-foreigners Taliban regime. After lots of questions like, 'Are you a journalist?', 'Are you definitely not a journalist?' and, just for good measure, 'Are you a journalist?', they let you fill out an application. On this you state where you wish to go. I wrote a few town names. The guy read them and demanded, 'How do you know of these places?'. I told him that during my briefing with the CIA for my mission to assassinate Osama Bin Laden, the name 'Kabul' may have come up. No, I sucked up to the bastard and 15 days later I had my visa, although I must have scared them a little as they only authorised me to visit Kabul.

Preparations for the trip consisted of making myself as acceptable to the crazies in charge as possible. I grew a beard, packed only Afghani clothes, bought a little Muslim skullcap, left anything that was banned or suspect (guitar, condoms, photos, notebooks, western clothes, actually just about all of my stuff) in Peshawar, and then met a travel buddy named James with whom I could share the madness and who would maybe prove useful in rescuing me from having my hands amputated by the Taliban.

We entered Afghanistan on the 11th via that most romantic route, over the Khyber Pass. We needed an armed guard to accompany us, as the Pass is in Tribal territory, which is exempt from Pakistani law. Everywhere you look in the villages you drive through there are hard-as-shite guys doing their shopping with machine guns slung over their shoulders.

The border crossing is insane. Hundreds of Afghanis are constantly trying to get through the gates, and are constantly being beaten back by the Pakistani border guards with batons. I got clipped on the arm as I went through by a guard beating the shit out of some poor little girl. Once in, the Taliban checked our bags, and then showed us a 24 year-old guide book to their country, the most recent and useful to the 100 or so idiots who go there each year under the guise of 'tourists'. It's quite funny relying on a book that old to find places to see and stay and eat, especially considering the place has also been through 22 years of war. Hearing Nancy Dupree's flowery description of the zoo is morbidly hilarious when you see the bombed-out shell and starving animals that remain.

We took 8 hours to get to Kabul, driving through stunning scenery and past numerous tanks and guns to get into the capital just 20 minutes before curfew. We found a hotel, run by a protective ex-army officer we named 'The Colonel'. Whenever the Taliban from the Ministry of Information and Culture across the road looked like giving us hassle, The Colonel would intervene and keep us out of harm's way.

Kabul is a surprisingly normal place, barely functioning, retaining a lot of charm and a real 1970s feel. I guess that's to be expected for a city where nothing has been built for 20-odd years. The sights are quite surreal - razed suburbs, rusty tanks by the roadside, crumbling palaces and whole rows of ship containers that have been converted into shops. The zoo is bizarre. We got a free tour from the head keeper, which basically took in the monkeys, the rabbits, a few wolves and lots of empty, war-ravaged enclosures. The highlight was the lion, one of the zoo's original inhabitants. Five years ago a successful Mujaheddin commander wanted a cool photo op, so he climbed into the lion cage and was promptly mauled. His deputies retaliated by throwing in some grenades. Two lions were killed, and the remaining one is blind and horribly disfigured. We were allowed to put our hands in the cage and stroke the poor thing, quite scary but I don't think the old bastard really cared after the grenade experience.

We only had one bad run-in with the Taliban. One day the really evil guys, the religious police (from the 'Department to Propagate Virtue and Eliminate Vice') grabbed James by the arm and started abusing him and trying to drag him away. They then started on me. We just kept shoiuting, 'English! English!' until they buggered off. An Afghani friend then told us what their problem was - our beards were deemed to short by Taliban law and we were liable for a week in the slammer for this heinous crime. Luckily we didn't join the minibus full of shaved men we saw drive past on its way to Kabul Gaol.

Another day we ran into a British journalist, accompanied by his Taliban 'interpreter'. The guy thought we were mad for coming to the place for fun, and did a little interview with us in our hotel. His 'interpreter' wasn't happy, and tried to steer him away from us, but we managed to meet up again later at his hotel, the rather plush and eerie Kabul Intercontinental.

This hotel is where the Taliban keeps all the troublesome foreign journalists who actually manage to get a visa. It has a staff of 140 for an average of 5 guests. I had dinner there last night, as it's a nice refuge from the mad world outside, and you can actually talk to women if you are lucky enough to be sharing the empty restaurant with one.

Women do lead atrocious lives in the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. However, I saw a lot more than i thought I would, and a lot of them were breaking the rules. I saw maybe a few hundred not wearing the burqua, the tent/shuttlecock thingy that makes all women look scarily the same. Thousands of women risked the lash by venturing outside alone, without a blood male relative. One even risked a stoning by asking James where he was from.

In the middle of this let me tell you the most special thing about my trip to Afghanistan: the people. These poverty-stricken and displaced humans have so little, yet somehow they still manage to smile. After all the power plays by the Soviets and the American that have seen the country reduced to rubble and blood, they still welcome westerners like old friends. The number of invitations for chai, dinner, a place to stay, and eternal friendship, from people who earn about $10 a month and who are officially not allowed to really fraternise woith foreigners, is truly astounding. Truly inspiring stuff. If there is one thing that gave me hope for Afghanistan's future, it was the spirit of the mangled population. Minus the bastard Taliban of course.

Last Friday, after making sure we were off the streets during afternoon prayers (another offence) we went to Kabul's infamous 'public execution' stadium to watch a game of football. I don't think the executions take place any more, or really that they ever did. The football was funny. All the players wore tracksuit bottoms under their shorts (no visible knee flesh allowed of course). The quality of the soccer was crap, but it was funny watching the Taliban guy going around with a small whip to keep the rowdy kids at pitchside under control. They all thought it was a laugh too, baiting the brutal bastard by running across the pitch and trying to avoid his nasty rubber whip.

After seeing all that Kabul had to offer, we went to the next big town to the south, Ghazni (after I had acquired Taliban approval to leave Kabul). Not much of note, just a few thousand-year-old minarets surrounded by a massive array of war junk. James and I were like a couple of schoolboys sitting in the downed Soviet copter and the mint-condition tank for some surreptitiously-taken photos.

Yes, photos are banned. So is music. So is TV. Basically, anything that's fun is branded 'unIslamic' and taken away from the masses. We did manage to take part in some of the population's little rebellions, though. When locals discovered we had cameras, they would ask us to take a quick picture, normally a hush0hush affair in a private room. We also met a few people with smuggled Indian and Iranian cassettes, playing the bad quality music at low volume in case the religious cops came by.

I was an idiot and I drank the water in a war-torn city. I have the giardia to prove it.

Last night I returned to Kabul after seeing James off from Ghazni (he headed to Kandahar). Being alone freaked me out a little, and the vibe at the hotel had changed. I met another foreigner there, and whilst we were talking in his room, a Taliban guy knocked on the door. He told us he was the hotel manager (he was about 18 and certainly wasn't The Colonel) and he wanted to search the room. He seemed content with a quick peek but I had been given the scare I needed to leave. Afghanistan is a volatile and unpredictable place, especially when it comes to the Taliban, who are just a bunch of power-happy teenagers out to prove themselves (usually at other's expense). I couldn't sleep last night as I was so paranoid that they were going to come knocking on my door and threaten me or try to extort money from me, as I've heard has happened to most other tourists. At 4.30 this a.m., I split from the hotel and got a share taxi from Kabul to the border. I was still paranoid, and was certain they wouldn't let me out without an exit visa (which you apparently need and takes 2 days to get). I latched onto one of my fellow taxi passengers, a Taliban-approved doctor from the Ministry of Health. His presence helped me through, and we were soon back at the mad refugee-clogged border. I squeezed to the front of the mass of humanity as the brutal Pakistani guards tried to close the gates. I shoved my passport in one of their faces and shouted 'Australian! Australian!' until he dragged me from the tragic crowd of war-stricken Afghans into the relative normailty and safety of Pakistani territory. From there it was a quick visa stamp (I've been given 72 hours to get to Iran by the mean bastards), then I was assigned another armed guard for the return trip over the Khyber Pass. We found a taxi. climbed in, and began the ascent over the Pass. The friendly (and noticeably un-bearded) driver picked out a cassette and put the music on full blast. I sat there laughing to myself, completely relieved and happy after my ten mad days in Talibanland. And let me tell you: Hindi pop music has never sounded so good.

Wednesday, September 5

Bizzare things happen.
Like just now. I'm in the panicked last hours of writing this essay on 'equality' and anti-discrimination laws and how John Howard and his liberal government has pulled the rug from under us with it's neo-liberalist bullshit.
So I go to call Michelle, the smartest person I know and expert on all things political to get the lowdown- but it just so happens she ironically works for one of the most facist bastard law firmsin Australia whose clients include tobacco companies and other nasties, when Howard's spawn, Tim- answers her phone! Howard! The guy I've been writing about like he's the devil.
So in a way it's like I just spoke to Damien- son of Satan- on the Phone...

Tuesday, September 4

WooHoo! At 10:42pm by Blog got in the 10 Most Recently Updated Blogs List!!
I am quite proud.

Rock'n'Roll! This is a link to one of Sydney's classic pub rock bands, in which I have featured from time to time as a guest drummer. I dare say it could be-
THE BEST BAND IN THE WORLD!

Vote for me (stage name- Gurgen) in the Band Member People's Choice Awards. Follow the links to the poll when you get there.

My University -I'm probably there right now being a total girlie swot.

Wanna read what my teacher Graeme wrote about the class presentation I did yesterday?

The topic was "Effective Legal Reseach"- So I presented my part in the form of a quiz called the "Fabulous Legal Research Quiz"- Fabulous Legal Research? An oxymoron, yes. So I bribed everyone with lollies to make it more interesting.

Dear Rachael

Thanks for your seminar presentation yesterday.

These are just some quick notes to provide feedback on your presentation. I do this for all students in EPP. My comments may sound picky, but I think detailed feedback is useful. I will not give you a mark as yet. I prefer to leave room to juggle at the end of semester if need be (I always juggle up).

The first thing I should say is that the quiz was an excellent idea. Also, you have a warm and friendly manner as a presenter, which is excellent, and you do not come over as nervous. You gave the impression that you were enjoying what you were doing, which then encourages your audience to enjoy it too.

Re the quiz: it was good to involve your audience, and to get them thinking about what they know, and to be aware maybe of what they don't know.

That immediately introduces the topic of what you were trying to achieve with the quiz - I presume it was meant to be educational (as well as fun: see more below under the Three of You). You probably needed to be a bit more "controlling" - unfortunate word I know. Responses were a bit haphazard from your audience at times. You needed to sum up at each question more coherently than you did. Sometimes you were very thorough (eg ACL, AGIS/APAIS etc), at other times it seemed as though you were relying on everyone hearing what someone had said (and I hadn't). I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can have the fun element, but emphasis the learning as well.

It might have been a good idea to have a few less questions, and analyse one of them in detail, say the "war correspondents" question, which was fascinating anyway. That would have avoided the feeling of things being "bitty", if you know what I mean.

The book cover overhead was excellent (I won't tell Butterworths if you don't!), but then the photocopy of the ACL chart was rather pointless as it was way too small. You could have left it out altogether and explained it was in a handout, or else talked to it more than you did.
~~~~~
Re the Three of You:
1. The quiz was a very good idea (and the lollies an excellent idea!). Having said that, it wasn't entirely clear whether you wanted it to be a fun exercise, or an educational exercise, or both. The fun element tended to rule. There were times when Rachael was summing up on something, and Frances and Ellie were chatting quietly between themselves (no doubt about the questions). It tended to emphasise the informal, but slightly undermined the professional, if you know what I mean. I'm not trying to make a big deal out of this, so please don't misunderstand. Just keep it in mind for the future, depending on your audience.
2. The EPP anecdotes were excellent, and some of the most enlightening comments appeared during that segment. It was apposite to then turn it over to your audience, and their contributions, though brief, were clearly enthusiastic.
~~~~~
And Rachael, your input re EPP anecdotes was particularly edifying.

Anyway, some food for thought. I certainly enjoyed it.
Cheers, Graeme

Monday, September 3

Today I discovered that our next-door neighbours, (the one who has breast cancer) killed one of my garden gnomes-Malcom.

He was the one with the cello. I liked him because he was the least sensible-seeming. The others all hold watering cans and spades and shovels and 'work-related' implements. I liked Malcom because he was like, a rebel gnome- a "fucked if you're gunna catch me working- I'm gunna play my cello and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it". See? Even when I was just personifying him I slipped into rebel John Wayne speak.

Malcom will be sorely missed. But I'm thinking of doing something cool with the chunks of his face and hat that weren't smashed by the blunstone boots of breast-cancer lady's inconsiderate gardener when he jumped over our fence to fix the rotted wood pailings. They might look interesting placed amongst my freshly planted basil and tomatoes.

Haiku- Death Ode To the Garden Gnome:.:.

Malcom played cello
Amongst the Autumnal leaves
Now he is in chunks

Sunday, September 2

I wish Napster would hurry up and come back online. Writing messages to myself is one way to procrastinate, but I'd rather be searching for songs.
Seeing as it is the second day of spring I have planted my traditional garden combo- tomatoes and basil. Hurrah for SpRiNg! Procrastinating outdoors is much more fulfilling.

3 Books I would Read if I Could be Bothered and What I would say to People when they Asked Me if I'd Read it:

1. Fyodor Dostoevsky- The Idiot
"yes, most penetrating character analysis. I could really relate to the title character."

2. James Joyce- Ulysses
" What a master stroke, to use the structure of the Homeric Odyssey as a contrast to the lives of the Dublin working class. I was so entranced I read the whole thing in one sitting. Mind you I'm now in hospital getting the bed sores removed from my arse."

3. Dr Suess- Green Eggs and Ham
"Brilliant, I was in a trance from beginning to end. I was I was I was you know, and now I can't stop rhyming so."

My 3 favourite songs of the minute: 2:03pm Australian Eastern Standard Time (Leichhardt, Sydney, 2040)

1. Chibo Matto- Sugar, Water Spoon.
Why? Because it's the song that Buffy and Xander do the "sexy dance" to in Buffy the Vampire Slayer- Season 2, episode 1, 'When she was Bad'

2. INXS- Never Tear Us Apart.
Why? Because it just came on random play on my Winamp MP3 collection, which has grown so large it is currently sucking 3 gigs out of Dave's hard-drive. Dave who? Flatmate who lives in the room upstairs above mine, currently deferred from his computer engineering course at Sydney University to pursue a career as an Opera Singer- will be performing at the Sydney Opera House in a few months in some opera that I'm going to have to go watch. Can you heckle at opera? Dunno, but I'll tell you in a few months...

3. Bush- The Chemicals Between Us.
Why? It reminds me of the brilliant feeling I had in my guts in November 1995 when I just finished High School and everything for about 3 months was fucking perfect- the best summer ever. Dunno why though, the song didn't come out until last year or so.

How does this sound for a possible research essay topic:

The US Federal Trade Mark Dilution Act 1995 restricts the use of famous trade marks from being "tarnished" by association with an inferior product or from being portrayed in an "unsavoury way". "Unsavoury way" can include parody or political commentary on the activities of the [crap!] famous brand. The First Amendment of the US Constitution provides a [penis!] strong defence mechanism against claims of "unsavoury" attacks on [fart!] famous brands. In Australia, s120(3) of the Trade Marks Act provides that the interests of the owner of the [jismspoof!] mark have been "adversely affected", and as such the "dilution" theory seems set to [fuckoff!] enter under this section of the act. Discuss.

Today I discovered that when ants wake up in the morning they yawn and rub their eyes. I think about that just before I squash them with my coffee cup on the kitchen bench each morning.

3 things of note that have happened to me so far today:

1. Got out of bed before noon
2. saw the new Kylie Minogue video clip that Ken's been raving about, the one where she's dancing in in a small white tablecloth. What's the deal with that? Seeing that her fanbase is composed of 50% gay guys and 50% teenage girls under the age of 13, I find myself asking "why does she bother"?
3. Purchased a new ink cartridge for my epson stlyus colour 480 to print the essay that hasn't been written yet. fuck fuck fuckety fuck

smells like fun