Blog J

Call me what you like, but this male gets joy in the company of the female form; frumps and lumps need not apply, and when I take a break from the relentless restoration of a very ancient post and beam farm building into a melange of ancient and modern designer chic, and I switch on the TV in this tiny country, I get more coverage of sport, than an ordinary bloke could ask for, canoe races, international athletics meetings, soccer, bloody soccer, handball, volleyball, swimming, and shoot me dead lord, rhythmic gymnastics. Now I'm a normal bloke, and I don't know if you get coverage of RG in your section of the world, but what I see there could gladden the heart of the most jaded couch potato. They're all teenage girls, and dressed in girls' gymnastic tights, but garnished by the most dedicated embroiderers, (look closely; little old ladies slave thousands of hours to make their grandchildren look good here..) and they perform; hell do they perform. I have only a vague idea of how many hours in the backstreet gymnasiums of Azerbaidjan and Poland these youngsters slave, to attain the precision and physical stamina to get on the podia of Europe, but the result is, overwhelmingly, joy, for me. For you too possibly, but I dread that you know more of Paris Hilton, or Kylie or....... there is, in talent, an adage of 90% Perspiration, 10% Inspiration. These girls, not even young women, a lot of them, have so much talent and dedication, and the stadia they perform in are so often half empty, that I wonder what drives them? Do you have the name of a current RG champion on your lips? I can't recall the number of ice skaters I've seen who've 'made it big' and disappeared into obscurity, but for a quotient of joy, for an amazing few minutes of sheer impossibility, set to music, see what a youngster from some newly emergent republic can put together under the spotlight; I've watched the smoothest Nikest ladies of the 100 metres sprint persuasion, the highest high jumpers, and the pole vaulters, all awesome, but if you've missed this season's output of RG puppies, you've done your eyes a disservice. Joy, pure Joy, but do they feel it? I wonder? The 100 metres girl will get $30,000 for her first place; I don't know what these girls of the RG persuasion get, but think about where you put your eyes and money this season, and give the rythmic gymnasts their due. Nuff said.

Blog H

A hundred years from now I really think 'Happy' will be an extinct word; Bob Dylan once, when asked, indicated that he'd never been happy; thousands of respondents in a global survey did not comprehend a question about 'Happiness', and I view daily many people driving bright shiny new motorcars who in no way reflect their possessions in their visage; scowly, grumpy, lumpy, poorly dressed, overweight, underweight, pale, wan, drawn, flushed, perhaps we feel buying something new improves the image? I am not fooled, but I indulge anyone their fancy, and am the happiest shopper in the world, like in a crowd at a fashion show, horse race, or village fair, happy to watch, to know, to see the familiar reactions to new/different/amazing, as long as whoever I'm with is 'happy'...... am I a cynic? I walked through Japan for six months, in 1987, and was fascinated with that culture... they have no word for 'exciting', exhibit a control in a crowd that has to be experienced to be comprehended, and finally revealed to me where they go in this throb of uniformity; the 'wa' is their inner space that is where they can hang out in peace, not bothered by others' conventions, rules, pressure, and if any culture has it right, Japan gets closest. But scratch the surface wherever you go in this world, and a Dr Mengele is likely to leap out, whether you choose whiteanglosaxonprotestant or whatever, it lurks in us all, and seems to be beyond regulations to suppress. I'd like to think I can protest to someone, but over the years I've tried all sorts of objecting, and the most satisfying period of my life was a brief encounter, in Australia, once, with a series of ex crims who went out and destroyed and vandalized every night; they had already rationalised the futility of lawful protest, and found their only justice in faceless destruction. I could not stand to be in a space like that very long, but my opinion was that they were 'happy', so, one up to them..... Can you offer something better? Please don't push a bible under my nose; there are dozens of books I can escape with, none of them are more than fifty or a hundred years old, and a variety of yoga sessions can do better than that, but what is there, that we can all follow/getinto/find that has us all at peace with one another? When I was seven I was in Aden, wandering wide eyed amongst the port's colour and noise, when a big black soldier, with a funny hat with a tassel whacked the muzzle of his rifle into my chest, signifying, I wonder to this day, 'don't go here', or some other interdiction. I didn't get it, distressed and confused, stumbling back to my parents, but every time, since then, when I hear some plaintive voice crying out 'you're not allowed', I find the officious twerp and say firmly 'yes you are, you just have to ask nicely', and hope some day there will be a place where I can be me, and you can be you, and I won't have to wonder if it is all in some stupid, officially sanctioned rulebook, guidebook, or religious text, which still, despite the best intentions, is going to be twisted and manipulated into another hateful doctrine. The Dalai Llama is probably as good a representative as I've ever heard of, and he's a man without a home..... Nuff said.