Public Address - Club Politique (Home)

Bright Light Over Yonder | Jul 03, 2006 19:49

Having recouped almost a third of the price of my latest purchase by selling the old unit on TradeMe, I thought I could become an 11-star Sneetch by making sure I dropped it off. I'd made sure that I indicated that my old 1.8gig Athlon was collect-only, but the purchaser wanted me to mail it anyhow. I was hesitant until they indicated that the computer was for their wheel-chair-bound son. Pesky damn social conscience...

The main trouble of course wasn't that I'd be required to post the unit, I'd already volunteered to deliver it, I'd been enough of a sucker to drop off the old monitor a couple of weeks before ("I need the $$, and I need it now"), the trouble was the drive all the way to Farmerston North. But I figured hey, how bad can it really be? After the 'fug' of being in Wellingtown for too long, it couldn't be all bad. Plus, there was the whole getting the unit to the kid thing. I'm far too nice a guy for my own good sometimes.

Anyhow, I decided we should take the long way and headed over the Rimutaka's because it's far more scenic. Good decision. We raced on thru Featherston and stopped in Greytown for breakfast. After a few minutes snooping around we stopped at this place call Salute and I had what was probably the best breakfast pancakes I've had in years. Two light, fluffy pancakes topped with lemon curd and a berry compote. There was a layer of whipped full cream on top of all that with what they called pomegranate molasses drizzled all over. That and a decent coffee and back on the road.

I think one of things I do not miss about being a dishwasher is being able to spend $20 on breakfast and not have to think twice about it.

From the refined neighbourhood of Greytown we heading north into the bright sunlight and out past the geee-orgeous Tararuas, themselves all covered with snow, and made a beeline for Masterton to keep to the schedule I'd arranged with the buyer. We were supposed to meet in the carpark of the local ware-whare, and we looked like being about an hour late.

Funny place Palmerston. Literally. During the comedy fest I saw about four comics score points of it. My main [lack of] memory of the town is getting blisteringly blind there on this thing called the 'Tour De Coma'. It's probably the place's great contribution to athleticism and drinking. Jesus I was drunk. 24 cans is no small feat.

So, what's interesting about TradeMe exchanges is the trust it automatically imposes on you. One of the things I try not to do when the buyer hands me the money is count it. You just take it in your hand and count it later. If they short-changed you you can always character assassinate them online. Heh heh.

After getting the cash we headed into the aforementioned ware-whare. Damn they've got a flash one up there. Selling food, all kinds of crap, and dripping with people in sweatshirting looking for new sweatshirting to wear.

Like I say, funny place Farmerston.

On the way back we went along the coast, and a more boring damned drive you cannot imagine. Naturally we made good on the promise to drop in and see some family in Otaki, and enjoyed practicing a little of very simple Te Reo work has been kind enough to have me taught.

So no a bad trip all in all. Nothing quite like a drive in the country to clear out city dust.

On a final note, Bongo and the SpongeMonkeys didn't make it to the Wellington Finals of the 48 Hours film comp. But if you'd like to see what we knocked out, Jenn the producer kindly put it up on YouTube here. There was also this great photo doco by Karim Sahai that you might have wanted to check out, but it seems to have been taken down. I'll try track it down for you.

Oh... I said I'd do 'joy'. Sorry, wandered off into discussion of a roadtrip. But, that's probably for the best. No point having you all think I'm bipolar.

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Taiho on the kaiawhina | Jun 29, 2006 08:28

With at least one person thinking my last blog was a suicide note I thought I'd best clear the air and say all is well in Wellingtown. Apologies for any scares. I admit that winter melancholy had settled, and this freaking heart medication means my sleep patterns are a little weird. But I'm not eyeing up the rohypnol just yet.

What I did decide to do was to tap that melancholy for a literary punt. While the elements of the blog were real (self-doubt, desire to be a better person etc.), I thought that I'd try to wring some emotion out of it. It seems I succeeded, and perhaps a little too well.

Also, I am finding that news-columnist stuff isn't working for me any more. Other people are far better informed about things that I. But, I do have a little project in the pipeline that I'd like to pour this type of writing into. If I can actually turn this bright idea into reality, then maybe you all can come watch it sometime.

So, next week I promise to do 'joy'.

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Huha | Jun 25, 2006 21:57

After spending so many years trying to become ever more closely engaged with politics and decision-making, and working so hard to understand the nature of power, it's all suddenly a little bland. Maybe it's the amount of news resources dedicated to such mind-numbingly boring topics as dog registration, the miracle of cold weather in winter, or soldiers who are, surprise surprise, tragically killed by a war, but I'm well and truly switching off.

I dunno, maybe it's just that cynicism is settling in in my old[ish] age, but whatever happened to all my dreams? It may have been the realisation that there is no way to change 'da system'. Or the marked lack of surprise I felt when I saw that the seat of power was on different days either a series of petty squabbles or a bunch of lemmings . Thing is though, I saw this a long time ago, so why the disenchantment now?

You know, I think the childish optimist in me has finally been broken?

Long ago I thought that people were basically good. I thought that if you tapped into the right kind of feel within people you could release that good. I thought that if you were the person you wanted people to be, they would echo your truth. I thought that being true, being conscious, was enough, despite all my foolish failings. I thought my failings would fall away in time, I thought my foolishness would fail in time. I saw all the ways in which badness perched within me, and I smashed them one by one. I starved my greed. I held my vanity apart till it withered. I ridiculed my envy. I suffocated my laziness. I tried to bathe in humility.

And in all these things I failed, because for each and every darkness I let light fall upon, for every moment of freedom it granted me, still there remained more. Always more. But I tried.

But is that ever enough? Can you ever truly be what you hold up as your own ideal? Ideals are beyond we mere mortals, leaving us only to ever aspire. Is enough to only sing what they call songs of love and healing unto things we can never be?

And that's the vacuum. I think that trying to aspire to some kind of excellent goodness is a little naïve, a little flakey. Some people are good, and it's right for them to maintain their positive, giving outlook on the world. People like that have carried me time and time again through the years, and I still hear every one of the messages they left me with. Sometimes it's just good to lean on someone, you know? But what I seem to remember about these kinds of people is that they just are. Perhaps they too battle with the desire to be a better person, but the ones I remember the most are those who just were.

The desire to make a difference the way these people do has left me though. Once I thought that I could be as true, but you can only be disenchanted so many times. God, the world is just so full of the unconcious, petty, venal, greedy and insane. The kinds of people who bring back to me all those things I thought I'd left behind. So again I ask you if it's enough? Is it enough to be the best man you can be in spite of the failings?

Perhaps it is. Perhaps all a good man can do is listen to all the white noise put out in the guise of information and truth. Keep learning to understand ever-widening circles of others. Keep trying to be true to the ideals you choose to represent. Discard self-abasement and just get on with the getting on. Finally shake out the last of the fledgling feathers.

Who knows, perhaps in time the circle will turn, the melancholy will fade, and the ideals will come back. Perhaps losing a little faith in goodness and seeing human darkness is part of the learning. After all, imposing an ideal on others, when I know I can never achieve it myself, is sometimes called arrogance. Interesting Catch-22 that one.

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