dream slideshows

I was reminded of the film "Eraserhead" the other day, when I read a David Lynch book.

Finally it explained the plot:
Man left with his ex-girlfriend's deformed baby, becomes paranoid. He loses his mind and begins a relationship with a woman in his radiator.

When I saw it, I was rather perplexed as to the point. There was an ugliness to the characters and creatures that inhabited it. It rapidly became grotesque and contrasted with the starkness of the man's small apartment.

Once I lost sight of the plot, it became a slide show of images that either intrigued or disgusted.

I often feel trapped in a dream like state when watching his films, easily manipulated by my own confusion.
Just once though I'll forget about agendas, the god complex and plot/meaning.

Random DVDs make the world go round, so does weird imagery.

Sydneysider

Upon arrival in a new city, I'm always keen to check out the basics: cinema, supermarket, public transport, different suburbs and TV channels.

When I arrived in Sydney, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore. The sheer scale of buildings and expanse of the horizon was exciting yet so unfamiliar.

I called the backpackers at the airport and a shuttle driver picked me up with some other randoms. Crammed into a van, it was a long drive to Kings Cross. The driver took the corners at a frantic pace as we looped in and out of small side streets and suburbs dropping off passengers. Bars on building windows gave me Back to the Future 2 flashbacks.

At the backpackers, which was modest yet colourful, I hauled my suitcase up a couple of flights of narrow stairs.
My friends were on a later flight, so I had the one bunk and a bed room with a fridge to myself for the day. It was bleak and looked out to an internal light well along with the other windows.

Walking into the city, there were the usual drunk men on the street at 2 in the afternoon.

We compromised our food intake for spending money. Somehow surviving off a piece of jam toast each for breakfast and minor things for lunch and tea.

Subway stations were a new experience. People kept to the left on the escalator so others could run down or up quickly. Random cheap clothing shops operated next to the ticket counter. On subway platforms, there were vending machines and ads projecting on the walls.

TV monitors hung above listing train stops and was announced by a monotone sound recording on a loop. This was in the smaller stations of Bondi, Kings Cross and Redfern. Martin Place station was massive and multi-levelled in the city centre.

We explored Chinatown, then got lost in the Spanish quarter on our travels.
I didn't realise I relied on brands when I couldn't figure out what to buy at the mini-supermarket. Nestle seemed to have the market covered with all things dairy.

One night, we went to see 'American Splendor' and stopped at the local Indian restaurant on our way for a treat. Every night since arriving, a man had stood at the doorway with his menu, proclaiming the wonderful dishes inside.

We were seated and perused the menu with the owners' family stationed at the doorway.
Being cheap students, we decided on the $10 special.
Away went all the finery: plates, glasses and napkins. We were presented with a divided plastic dish of food and paper serviettes. It was a bit of a shock to the system, as the resident family looked on.

Being in another time zone, having an accent and not knowing the correct terminology to use in shops or bars is an adjustment. But near the end, I thought "I could live here".
Sydney had its own vibe and colour while not being too far removed from home.

Melbourne is next on the list.

Rewards for sacrifice

The other day I was looking at a dreary office building and its windows. I imagined a 9-5 worker behind it, watching the clock aka living for the weekend.

There is always the reminder of what is outside the office- family, friends, holidays in photos pinned to the wall.
At work, our time and soul are the sacrificial lambs of life. They have to be traded to get money. With all this sacrifice, we need lots of rewards to keep us happy.

Why not indulge ourselves, just to ease the drudgery of modern living and Monday mornings?

So out came the rewards loyalty card. We all want that 'free' coffee or 20% off our next purchase but we have to pay with our money, persistence and consistency.
You'll forget about them. Then when you eventually find them at the bottom of your wallet, you'll discover they all have used by dates in their fine print.

Later, I was at the trendy site of revelation, the petrol pump. There was a sign about being a FlyBuys Millionaire.
Even if you buy into reward schemes, you have to be the most persistent person on the planet, never forgetting your membership card, coffee cards or vouchers.

But when will you reach enough points to be rewarded 'well'?

With my points I could get a vegetable dehydrator from Noel Leeming but not the promised trip to London. That's about $10,000 of extra buying to get close. These schemes are all pipe dreams, promising big 'rewards' just by spending money.

If I need a reward, I'll try a walk around the lake.
Some worthless points aren't going to cut it.

Consumer Pawn

I find the best time to peruse the stores is when I'm really tired.
I can wander without motivation and not get frustrated. Unfortunately it isn't without its consequences, as an internal critical dialogue begins. It revolves around the central question of "why am I doing this when I could be sleeping?" but strays to goods, signs and shoppers analysis.

"Can I help you?" is the death kill conversation opener and drips of desperation. I was hoping to exchange dull pleasantries but now I have to justify my existence just to begin a conversation. With my sleep walking and happy temperament interrupted, the inevitable "just looking" comes out and my retreat to the exit.

Friendlier conversations may be in the tone of friends stopping by for coffee, all warm and fuzzy. Reacting favourably to this atmosphere, unwittingly makes me the pawn in the brutal retail game and then I have to question my motivations for shopping.
Does my self-esteem, validity or existence really hinge on a shop assistant, who just wants to sell me something.

Being ignored is expected, maybe if I was awake, I'd take offence. No point coming back when I'm now a member of the rejection club and a number.

An internal monologue can lead to irrational choices and perceptions, but it livens up the most trivial situation. Just turn it off when you see a movie. You start to question why an actor is wearing an ugly shirt or when the actress will pick up her handbag.

10 Ways

A new month is here and it could be the time to make yourself more fabulous by having a personality procedure.

The advice industry is massive, even though resolutions are usually reserved for New Years Eve or the milestone birthday.

Lifestyle magazines and websites indulge readers with quizzes, personality tests and horoscopes. Its pure trash but appeals to human curiosity and over-analysis.

There are the usual suspects on the list of '10 ways to change your life', regardless of the source.


1) Stop smoking/drinking

2) Travel

3) Learn a foreign language

4) Exercise/diet/makeover

5) De-clutter

6) Budget

7) New job

8) Volunteer

9) Seize the day

10) Socialise/ Communicate more


They could change your life, depending how radically you implement them.
Effects of routine seem to drive some people to the extreme to change their life.
Maybe advice isn't so harmless when it results in a life crisis.

Quarter-life, mid-life or late quarter, a crisis though could change your life for the better.

How Leaf We Are

There is a poem I quite like. Though it is dark, I find it refreshing.

How leaf we are,
At first, all furled in separateness,
Peeping out with little vanities and hopes, also vanity;
Perhaps the last vanity, holding us to that green world,
Our life shall be; believing ourselves,
So individual, we all reach, being identical,
Shall the prodigal gardener weep?

How leaf we are,
At last, all seared in brittleness,
curled up with tiny tears and hurts, also fears;
Perhaps the last fear tethering us to that dry twig
our life's become,
then knowing that we are enumerable we fall,
being expendable, all,
The gardener is blind,
He will not sweep.

How leaf we are,
Like waves we do become;
First urged, then merged.

That gardener is a fisherman,
That fisherman is asleep.

-Anon