this bird is even deader than the last

I call this one Iva after Iva Davies from Icehouse, because it sings like an angel.

At first I though it was a magpie, but it just didn't taste like one.

dead and rotting bird

isn't he cute?

more car

Got new wheels today

my sex change.....

It's true. As a child, I was a girl faced blondy with blue eyes and dimples. Now, fortunately (or unfortunately) I am a gnarled older person with grey hairs, wrinkles and fading features.

Somewhere between distinguished and weathered I think is a fair description.

I plugged a picture of myself (the Younger me) into an online tool that picks your celebrity lookalikes for you, and lo and behold - Young James only looks like a bunch of girls. No males. Not one.

Look.

Why I hate yobbo football (Australian Rules) culture (or Boys Will Be Boys)

In a recent article in Melbourne's Age titled 'Nazi' hate attack probe Jane Holyroyd tells the harrowing story of a Jewish man who was bashed and vilified in his own neighbourhood and in front of his children by a bunch of yobbo footballers. The article could have had the headline "Fuckwits illustrate why football should be banned".

Melbourne is already getting a bad rap from tourists without having to deal with these immature, uneducated, mob-rule, wankers tarnishing our name even further. Individually these guys are probably the shy assholes who don't understand half of what normal people say to them. They become empowered with a flock of other fuckers around them. Gang-rape and Poofter Bashing are probably listed as hobbies on their resumes.

From the Age online October 17, 2006 - 11:50AM:

Police will interview an entire busload of footballers after some players allegedly bashed a Jewish man after a day at the races in Melbourne on the weekend.

About 20 players from the Ocean Grove Football Club had spent Saturday at the Caulfield Guineas when their bus pulled up alongside 33-year-old Menachem Vorchheimer, who was wearing traditional Jewish dress as he walked with his two children along Balaclava Road, Caulfield, about 6.30pm.

He was allegedly bashed when he approached the bus, which was carrying about 20 football players, after passengers began yelling racist comments at him.

This reminds me of stories from the Armed Forces too. Not just hearsay mind you, but anecdotal evidence from friends who enlisted. Get a bunch of young men together, feed them booze, keep them away from everyone else and teach them that they are the best there is. When they get released onto the public it is often mayhem.

I remember going on leave with some of my Army buddies and being turned away from half of the pubs, clubs and restaurants we tried to get into. It was because of past events involving guys from the same barracks. Brawls and molestation of female patrons were not uncommon.

my old corolla, retiring this week.

remembering a mate

Ross Howell was a loving father, son and brother. He loved family and friends and was in his element when surrounded by people. He was a great cousin, uncle, nephew, neighbour and friend.

My father grew up with Ross as his closest childhood friend as well as his cousin. Dad, the introvert, was forced out of his shell by Ross who always had a scam, scheme or plan for fun. Throughout their lives, Dad admired Ross above all others.

Whilst dad grew older, Ross never let time hold him back. He was a successful businessman and entrepreneur and took risks others were too timid to take.

Although there is a generation gap, Ross and I became good friends and had some great times together down in Mentone by the beach where he lived. Mentone's Edgewater Hotel, or the "Edgy" was quite a dive, but it was great fun to see Ross in his 80s disco gear (almost) in a crowd that made me feel old. There was no holding him back.

I never passed up an opportunity to tell whoever would listen about the time Ross asked me to go to an over 28s night (for moral support). We got there nice and early and proceeded to stake out a spot from where we could keep an eye on the nights festivities. The 6'4" black American barman was paying way too much attention to us, which we didn't notice till he came over, looked Ross straight in the eye and said "straight or gay?". Ross didn't hear over the music, so the guy had to ask again, but by this time others were listening in.

This happened a few years ago, but I can laugh about it to this day. But not today.

Recently Ross and Heather decided to end a 20 year marriage that produced two beautiful and confident daughters Che and Cody. Although the marriage was over, the friendship (once the initial hurt subsided) remained, and Heather was there for Ross when he got sick.

An operation a couple of months ago was supposed to cear up the issue that was initially identified when he thought he had a heart attack in the shower. It turned out to be tumours blocking blood flow.

More tumours were found again a week or so ago, and surgeons decided to go in on Thursday (12th Oct). Dad went to wish him luck, and Ross gave him a hug and said "I'll be ok, Stevie".

He died on the operating table.

american single mindedness

Recently I tried to enter into a civil dialogue with an American who seemed to think he was intellectual. He writes a blog called Think Sink and seems fairly extreme in his Right Wing, Christian extremist, high moral ground.

My comments on his blog were initially deleted, as I was obviously too offensive when I questioned his staunch opposition to Bill CLinton, yet his hardline support as a Bush apologist.

Here's his latest response.

Jeff H from Think Sink gets all intellectual on Jimmy's ass.

Drop this fascist a line if you feel so inclined. I cannot stand this one eyed political crap so popular in the US. I am a lefty, but I won't vote for any idiot just because he or she is a lefty too.

pause

I received a call recently from an ex girlfriend asking how I coped with the recent illness and subsequent death of two uncles. She only knew about one of them until she made the call. Her uncle has just been diagnosed with the same illness. It's the all too common and dreaded lung cancer. There is nothing more vile, more sinister, expected yet surprising and ultimately as devastating as lung cancer.

When my oldest uncle first told me he was sick I almost laughed. Uncles are often kidders, and mine are especially playful at times. I thought it was a bad joke. I was devastated, but he was positive he could fight it. He lasted longer than expected, and hosted Christmas at his house as some kind of last goodbye to the whole family. You could see it in his eyes just how much he loved having us all there.

He didn't quite make it to the following Christmas. He had good days and bad ones. We cried with him and laughed with him. He finally succumbed with most of the family being able to sit with him on his last day. By this time he was no longer conscious. My dad called and the phone was held to Uncle Gary's ear. I still don't know what dad said, but he never forgave himself for being in Darwin when his best friend died.

Not long after my father and I were out for breakfast and ran into Gary's younger brother Michael. Always quieter and less confident, Michael didn't let on much about what was happening in his life. His wife had died of cancer a couple of years before, so he and his very very shy 12 year old son lived in isolation in the hills. Running into them at breakfast was not uncommon for me, but this time they seemed tense. As if in passing, Michael leaned forward and told us that he too had just been diagnosed with lung cancer. He hadn't wanted to say anything as the family was still reeling from his brother's death.

We spent a lot of time with Michael. His house was a few miles from where I grew up. We cleaned his house, took him to appointments, went out for coffee. Unfortunately, Michael didn't last very long. The coughing fits were too much for his heart. His son Jordan, found him dead on the couch one morning, and not knowing what to do, he went back to bed and cried until our aunt found them.

My favourite author Haruki Murakami wrote a line in a story "In a certain sense you can see a person?s whole life in the cancer they get". I know what he means, but I?d like to think that Gary and Michael were more than smokers.

And in a sense I don't entirely agree with Murakami. I think we see society as a whole reflected in the cancers we get. Individuals are the diseased parts of the society. One individual can do all of the right things and still get sick, similarly an individual can live an unhealthy indulgent life and make it to a ripe old age.

But why risk it? Give up smoking, drink moderately, eat well, and live long.

In the end, the only advice I could give my ex was to let her uncle leave the world knowing he was loved and that his passing will be noted.

There's no easy way to tell people this...

I have been sick lately. Quite sick. Migraine, fever, nausea, all the good stuff. And when I say migraine, it's not the sort mums have when they need to get the kids to shut up, or they need dad to take the kids for ice cream. I mean the type where you lose eyesight and balance, and really shouldn't drive, or walk. I was driving when the last big one hit, and I'm lucky I didn't crash.

Being an Aussie guy though, I held out to go to the doctors. The problem I had was that some people near and dear to me saw me in this poor state and thought they should bully me into going to the doctor.

I went along reluctantly and was prodded, poked, tested and scanned. Apparently my brain is fine (or has no damage) and most of my fluids showed no real issues.

My eyesight is also a bit screwed, and goes some way to explaining my migraine problem.

My liver let me down though. The tests showed two things. Liver damage, probably from alcohol and/or drugs, and the other, stranger thing showed that I have an hereditary disorder called Gilbert's Syndrome. Strangely enough, my grandfather's name is Gilbert, but it’s not his syndrome. Some French dude called Gilbert discovered it.

The upshot of the whole thing is:

lay off the booze; I gave up drinking about 18 months ago due to abdominal pains accompanying hangovers;

treat your liver well; fatty food messes with the slab of meat known as the liver, it takes a lot of energy to process the crap we put into our bodies;

get your eyes checked; I wanted to believe that glasses would make my eyes better, I know better than that, but I lived in false hope.

I'm going to survive, but isn't it odd that we can have all of these things wrong with us, whilst living a fairly good and healthy life. I had a pretty intense relationship with some liver damaging substances in my younger years (in fact a good percentage of my life) and although I have left it all behind, I will pay the price for a while to come.

my new car

So I finally got a car I like. This may sound a little trivial to many, but I have never owned a car I felt good about driving. Years ago I bought a SAAB as an impulse buy that I got when I thought I'd have to live in my car after a "domestic dispute". Nice car, but not perfect.

The SAAB died and I bought a Corolla Seca "for a while" until I could get something better. The Corolla was fine, and the only thing between me and public transport. It is/was a very basic car, but it got me from A to B and never broke down.

Now I am a Subaru driver. Take a look.

More pics here.

more car stuff

Just more information on my new car. Specifications etc.

my new car