Wet dunny rolls

So here’s a mystery, the case of the soggy dunny rolls.

I found one behind the toilet, as soggy and as wet as could be, so I wondered if the cistern leaked, or perhaps it happened while mopping the floor, and I had not seen the roll behind the loo, which was probably kicked there and forgotten.

But yesterday, I went to replace one, and put my hand into the plastic bag they came in, I had two remaining, and they were utterly soaked.

I hadn’t mopped the floor, and they weren’t under the toilet where a leak (and I found no leak anyway) could soak them.

Am I making strange nocturnal trips to the loo and doing weird things in there? is the cat using them as her own loo?

They don’t smell of pee, they’re just wet, soaking wet.

There’s no leak in the roof, there’s been no rain anyway.

I don’t know what’s causing this.

 

UPDATE…

Broken seal around the pipe leading out from the bowl!

 

More thinking

More self analysis…

I love having friends, and I love meeting them, but you all probably know how introverted I am.

I want the conversation, I want to share some time with a few friends, and mostly one at a time, or two perhaps, not too many all at once, not too much fuss.

And I think I need the contact, because otherwise I risk turning into Fuzzy Lumpkins from the Powerpuff Girls cartoon, Being grumpy, somewhat distrustful, having my Macbook instead of my Banjo and lacking only a “Boomstick”.

I want friends in my space, (not myspace) for a while, to have a coffee and to chat… and to use my hands cleaning a bench or putting away some plates instead of concentrating on a screen.

But I can only take so much, then I need my space, somewhere to be alone… but of course Katie and Vicky are always allowed to be with me, I never grow tired of their company, but humans are things I can only take in small doses, even if they’re close friends.

I need my space to do what I do, or perhaps I stop being myself, which isn’t nice.

 

Thinking aloud

When I read about people who are gay, they often say “I was born this way” which is fine, perhaps I was too, but I suspect I weighed things up and preferred to play for my own team.

I treat things very much like I do when I’m buying an appliance, I think very carefully about what it does, how it functions, reliability, brand and cost, and my sexuality was no different.

Now this post might make me seem like a woman hater, which is certainly not the case, because I like to think I’m a lovely, cuddly sort of personality, and I care deeply for my female family and friends.

But these were my reasons, laid out bare for all to see.

My Sister once tried to suss me out, she thought I was “squiked out” by a womans body, and for some reason I never really told her the truth, which I’m upset about (Jan died two years ago due to ovarian cancer).

When I was at high school, I had a friend called Arthur who was a randy bugger, and would look at nearly every womans bum and say things like “phworrr, look at her arse!” and I just didn’t see it.

Some of the boys had porn, and I saw that, and that wasn’t bad, I could relate to nudity, but somehow not to clothed bodies.But I’d never approach a girl, I’d be too scared, girls were aliens, weren’t they?

So firstly there was fear, and there was nobody there to clue me in.

Secondly the other fear was about what happened if I did manage to have sex with someone, and she got pregnant? What would I do? I can’t look after a baby, Mum would kill me, what if she had an abortion… it’s my child too?

(Our high school wouldn’t show us a film with penises in it, without parental permission, but was quite happy to show us an anti abortion film which freaked me right out).

So a wall went up.

Secondly, I’m a lazy person.

Mum would happily get up at sparrow fart, but Dad was a night person, and I followed suit. I hated getting up first thing of a morning and finding myself in the school yard, freezing my arse off and still not quite awake.

One of my aims in life was to sleep in more often, and stay up late, there was no way that I would marry someone and have a child, only to get up EARLIER than the child and get them off to school… NO NO NO NO NO.

The other thing about pregnancy is that I was terrified that I would put the Mother in danger, I didn’t want to feel that pains, and potential death might be all my fault.

Yes, I realise that  may have had a partner who had a good pregnancy and would wake at sparrow fart and get the kids off to school while I slept in and did a radio program in the evenings, but it all seemed so unlikely.

Mum was shocked when I stated that I didn’t like babies, the look of them, the smell of them, the sound they make… Dad said it’d be different if it was mine, but I wasn’t going for that.

No less than five straight relationships what I knew of had crashed and burned, I knew of people who were beating each other, and swearing at each other, and I remember buckets of tears, a great advertisement right there.
Yes I know that sometimes a relationship could be lovely, but I didn’t like the odds. Though I didn’t know of any gay relationships, at the time the only gay person I knew of was Mr Humphreys from Are you being served, and maybe Boy George (but that’s probably just an act).

Being “a poof” was some sort of mythical thing, nobody was really gay, were they?

I never met an actual gay person until I got online in the 90s, that’s true.

And I think that part of me just couldn’t entirely grow up, I feel like the eternal child.

I’m still somewhat surprised at 47 when a kid in the park points and says “That Man” or when someone on the phone asks for a “Mr”, Who? Me?

I’m “The Son” not “The Grown Up, or “The Man” and never “The Father”.

As far as sex goes, I think 90% of the time, I’d rather imagine it, I have tried it and never really felt all that happy about it… but my imagination is very very good. Reality contains too many icky bits, fantasy rarely does.

Now it’s pretty much over as far as sex goes, I think the cancer treatments virtually neutered me, so there’s no urge any more, which is sort of a shame.

The cancer treatment has made me, for most of the time, stay at home, which I really don’t mind, as it allows me to stay awake to the wee hours, and wake up when I want to, and not when an alarm goes.

Then I can spend the rest of my time with Katie, My wonderful dog, who is much better than a child anyway, she doesn’t ask for much, she almost never had a life at all as she was to be put down in 2005 because nobody wanted her, but I did, and still do.
And I can spend my time being creative online, and making friends, which I do all the time.

I’m not sure how I feel about my life, have I let myself down by at least partially choosing this path, or is there just a lot of peer pressure to breed and work?

And do I, via my writing and daily interactions have any effect on a world that I care so deeply about that I worry constantly? or does nothing I do matter a jot?

Could I just get myself a small boat and float around in the Yarra all day with Katie and not worry about anything, ever?

I’ve spent many years analysing myself and I’m still not quite sure who I am yet, but I feel too small to gain the wonderful dreams I have had.

One day it will simply come to an end, and life will go on without me.

Where the wild things are – Review

Last night I downloaded a movie from itunes, the first HD movie I’d ever downloaded as a matter of fact, and it was “Where the wild things are”.

I’m not going to talk about the acting or the costumes, I want to talk about how I felt while watching it.

I could have taken the literal version, that Max, The main character in the film, had run away from his Mum and found himself on an island of creatures.

But I took the longer route and saw it like this.

Max runs into some bushes after an argument with his Mother (and a prior one with his older Sister on the same day).

Once there, he sits and thinks… He thinks pretty hard about life, and he imagines a group of creatures, which represent things about his family, and aspects of himself.

I didn’t engage with the movie for quite a while, and even considered stopping the film and doing something else, although I really wanted to like the film.

When the superficial stuff was finally over, the movie took on a deeper tone, but I remained rather aloof about it… then it happened.

Without spoiling it, there’s a scene towards the end which is clearly about grief, perhaps it represents Max missing his Dad and beginning to come to terms with that, I’m not sure.

But having had more grief than anyone deserves, I connected in an extraordinarily powerful way, and down I went like a pack of cards, completely overwhelmed, I cried like mad.

Even well after the credits rolled and while I was in the shower, I was still weeping about it.

It had managed to touch a very raw nerve.

Don’t worry, I gave myself some serious ice-cream therapy, yes there was lots of chocolate sauce, and yes, there were chopped nuts.

Katie had some ice-cream too.

I always think that the very best movies make me cry, this one was like a bomb with a very long fuse, but boy, when it went off, it really went off.

…one thing I don’t understand though, why should I have cried over Carol,  he ripped his best friends arm off, and his friend didn’t even mind.

Wolfie!

 

You get what you pay for

When I want to buy an appliance, I will be considering a few features I want, and probably need, plus the reputation of the company and the price.

I will then go to a shop, have a really good look at what I may be buying, and if it shapes up to my expectations, I will pay for it.

That’s how I’m sizing up the Government.

But this is how I see most Australians.

Bloke reckons he wants a TV, goes to The Good Guys, Says “I’ll have that one because Tony, reckons it’s Ace” Pays his money.

Finds out the TV is too large for where he wanted it, Lacks most of the features he wanted, and despite everyone telling him beforehand, discovers for himself how unreliable the company which made it, really is.

Professor Ben

One of our Clubs favourite members is a bloke by the name of Professor Ben Sutton, Who is completely Human.

His connection to us began in the 70′s when He was a Uni student and a friend of his fronted up to him over unusual personal… Well, you understand. Now Ben was just the right person to go to, as he rarely lost his head over anything, and He probably saved the life of the person who, eventually founded our Club just a few years later.

While Ben isn’t exactly a local anymore, He still makes an effort to come over, often when he needs time to himself so that he can clear the cobwebs, which is what Clubs are generally for.

Ben was a portly sort of bloke, with a bit of a beard on his chin, his hair was badly brushed, and his clothes were very casual, He didn’t have time for his looks, as his mind was always far too busy, even when he was relaxed.

But Ben always allowed time for company, We were “His pack of friends”.

From time to time we’d have “Pub Science” evenings, which were either planned, or more often that not, simply happen. Werewolves can be such geeks, gadgets and science-fiction videos were strewn around on benches, and star wars figures guarded corners of the club.

One evening, about five of us and one Ben were having a conversation about scientists thinking that everything is just one big simulation inside a computer, and then said that where there are computers, there are always hackers.

“Isn’t it interesting” He said “That you can all speak really clearly, even though your mouths are clearly not meant for speaking?”

He was right, Here were we with our big wolfy mouths, and our large canine teeth, speaking normally, it shouldn’t be possible. but then, maybe we shouldn’t be possible either.

He spoke about Tal, our Swedish friend, Who could do the most amazing things with electrical devices, one of the very first things he ever did was to repair a burnt out light globe by simply holding it and thinking,  He would re-program computer games in the arcades, again, just by seeing into the machine, and thinking, There was “The Rambo Incident” at the local Timezone, which still raises a smile now and then.

Tal was working on a musical instrument, Possibly inspired by our Hostess (who was rather keen on me) Charlene, A talented Cello player, like her Mother… anyway, He called it a Psycho-Rod, a “Mind to Midi” device in which he hoped that He could finally play a hot guitar riff just like Brian May

It looked a bit like a Keytar, but had a flat glass plate on the front, no keys at all, it wouldn’t need any, if it worked. But at the time, despite Tal being an absolute genius, with or without his ability, it didn’t.

Ben pointed to me and spoke about my healing abilities, and wondered where that came from too.

My first experience involved seeing the lights in My Mothers head, and curing her of deafness which she had acquired while working, unprotected, as everyone was back then, at a weaving mill quite a few years earlier.

I remember Mum walking around the next day, hearing things like the buzz and mosquito like whine of the fluorescent lights in the kitchen, and then listening to hours of my music. It was like she was a new person, and it made me so happy.

I didn’t see tissue when I healed people, I saw golden lines and little clockwork cogs which jammed or came adrift, and only needed to be put back into place, It was like the meridian lines I’d seen on posters at the acupuncturists wall, except mine was far more complex, always moving and changing, never static. If Bens theory about us being sort of like hackers who were inside a giant computer, then was what I saw just how I interpreted code?

Tal saw letters and numbers, while Charlene saw music notation… others saw colours or even heard sounds.It was like a kind of synesthesia, except that we could use it to make things work or to heal.

When I was a child, I believed magic was real, until a little girl told me it wasn’t, and I was always kind of sad after that, it was as though I’d lost something beautiful, but now I had all this wonder in my life, and I loved it.

I often wondered if it was all just a dream, and if I’d wake up, but the red phone in the club was always the same, and all the words in the magazines on the tables stayed just as they were, I would sit there sometimes, really still, and just listen.

Wolfie Rankin

Copyright PWTS 2013.

The history of the Werewolf

I want to tell you about the history of the Werewolf,  I’m going to leave a lot out, but I hope you’ll get the basic idea, I hope it sets things straight.

We have a kind of diary, which was written by our people, spanning hundreds of generations. and in many different languages, some languages are so old that they’re difficult to translate, but we have tried none the less.

A long time ago Humans and Werewolves were friends, We were trusted, and we protected homes from thieves. While Humans assumed we stood silent guard like soldiers, we in fact were just doing what a Werewolf does, and if someone from Town met a Werewolf at night, it wasn’t that much of a concern, as they often knew each other anyway.

But Humans and Werewolves made up blood curdling stories which would pass off as truth and would keep would be thieves away, it generally worked, and there aren’t many instances in the book where someone suspect was apprehended, often they were drunk or had blundered in from elsewhere, and when it did happen, the intruder would generally wet themselves and be shown the way out of whatever town or village it might have been.

We did a reasonable job of keeping stock losses down, by chasing foxes, which was apparently a lot of fun judging by the drawings.

Werewolves also had another use, a healing ability, not just for ourselves, but for others… When you look at someone and then inside them, you see the golden lines, and the sprockets and gears, all the little wheels of life which make everything work. sometimes the sprockets fall out or the wires break, and when you can see them and move them with your mind, a body can be repaired.

We didn’t take life, unless we wanted to eat, and even then we didn’t take more than a Human would want for themselves, We loved life, our own lives and the lives of others.

We were loved, Life was good for both species, and in general, it was a happy time.

People back then often had no education, but the book seems to show that many people were intelligent even if they were often superstitious. They would often leave offerings for deities which didn’t exist, We never touched their offerings, to do so would have “proved” that some external force existed… but of course some of us were superstitious too, we were still people and still had our weaknesses.

So you may wonder, what went wrong? Why did such a beautiful relationship sour?

A different kind of person began turning up in places where we lived, armed with good books about bigger Gods which had made all of the World and all things in it, except for the likes of us, who were made by the forces of darkness, apparently.

For a long time, the people shunned the idea, but slowly began to wonder who was right, and who was wrong, The Children were easier to convert, and it was they who were preyed upon, and slowly people became afraid of us.

The older generations still knew us, and kept in contact, and although they wanted to tell the new generations that there was nothing wrong, they were afraid, because speaking out could mean death.

It was like a disease had caught hold and was killing everything good that we ever had.

And so those who remembered we were kind, came together one night, and met with our elders in one particular village one night, and they suggested we vanish from Human memory, how long would it take? one generation to forget everything? perhaps.

Anything remembering the werewolf which hadn’t been broken already, would be removed, broke or hidden away, and memory of the werewolves would not be passed onto the humans.

And then gradually, we too, pulled up our roots and moved along, not always finding one of our own kind to have children with, We fell in love with Humans, and they in turn with us, and we even forgot, after a while, who we were, and what we could do.

Only a few dedicated souls kept the diary, and kept writing the story which had to be told.

Now and then it passed into Human hands, and risked being lost or destroyed from time to time, such as in the great fire of London, and the Blitz which came later. It traveled all over Europe, to Africa, The Middle East and back again, and all it’s journeys recorded within.

But although we tried to hide, The Werewolf mythology remained, and not of the nice werewolf either, but of the blood crazed killer, which had only been amplified by those who had bought religion into those ancient homes of ours, but yes, it was partly our own fault.

Have you noticed a potential problem dear reader?

We had been inter-breeding with humans for centuries, for centuries, so much so, that now it’s rare to find a human without whatever makes us, us… a gene? no it’s not, we’ve looked.

So occasionally one of us “wakes up” and changes form, and the problem with the werewolf is that he or she becomes what he or she believes themselves to be, and the only books on the subject are about the horrible, murderous beasts of legend, so what do you suppose happens?

We dread news that a Werewolf has killed someone, and those of us who know our real history dedicate ourselves to watching for these poor souls who need protection, not a bullet in the head.

Yes sometimes one Werewolf bites a “Human” and then we have two to cope with, as the “Human” believes they’ve been bitten by a Werewolf, and it wakes them up too, at least if they have a Werewolf in their ancestry.

My friends meet in an old basement near Degraves street in Melbourne, and have created a “pub” there, which is very cosy on a winters night, That’s where the Loup-Garou Underground was founded, an operation to locate our kind before they cause or come to harm.

There so few of us, but we do our best using any mode of communication we can to follow a lead.

Since the Loup-Garou Underground Melbourne HQ was formed in 1976, Five others have been created on other points of the globe, and slowly our people are coming back.

In this age of enlightenment, we hope that one day we can accepted, and even loved by the Human community again.

I hope this brief explanation has helped me to explain who we are.

Love.

Wolfie!

(C) PWTS All Rights Reserved, 2013.