Wolfies Tea Party.

20 02 2011

I had a bit of idea, just a small one, but then, a small idea can be quite lovely.
and the implications might be bigger.

Basically all it is, is that sometime tonight, between six and nine pm, we sit down in our favourite quiet spot and have a cup of tea, with a cake or a biscuit.

You will note that I didn’t give any specific time, It’s tea, it shouldn’t be regimented to a specific minute of the day, and many of us are settling kids down for the night, having our evening meal, or watching a favourite tv show… do this when you feel you are ready.

Switch the lights off, except for the nearest one, the tv and the radio too, it will be you, alone, or with a friend, a cup of tea, and a bikkie.

It need not be fancy, you could be at a camp fire with an old metal mug if you’re
lucky enough to be in that situation.

But… because we’re doing this online thing, what I’d like you to do, is grab your mobile, take a photo of your tea, or yourself having tea (don’t spill it) or whatever you feel might be a good shot, Take it and upload it, either to Yfrog or Flickr and tweet with the hashtag #WRtea, So that the rest of us can see you’ve joined in.

It’ll be a much nicer tea party than that other one, and look at the electricity we’ll be saving by switching things off for a little while.

Let’s allow a little Global Togetherness to happen, and create a piece of peace.

Please join us, you’d be most welcome, and spread the word!


*note: I may re-post photos to the Facebook Event Page, I’ve found that while Yfrog photos easily crosspost to Facebook, Twitpic ones do not, hrmmm.

Facebook (No Access)

16 02 2011

I wonder how many others don’t like the new photo strip on their page? I feel it gets in the way and would like the option to turn it right off, unfortunately there’s no option for this.

So, I decided to ask about this in the help forum… only to find that I couldn’t post to it.

Despite facebook having a forum, I couldn’t post to it… so what’s the point of having a forum?

When people encounter this type of situation, there’s a feeling of slight paranoia, what have I done?

I wonder if others are locked out, or a certain few have decided another certain few (myself included) were not good enough to post? I could post, have done so before, just asking technical questions, never anything nasty.

One of the things I felt was useful was a little box of text which told the reader something about me has vanished, a design change has seen to that.

It seems to me the user should have the option to add or leave things off their own page if they want to, why are Facebook so into removing stuff we want, while adding stuff that we don’t?


My little water problem

15 02 2011

I’m a disability pensioner who could get a discount on my water bill, except it’s not a normal utility like electricity, the phone or the internet, oh no, water is “special”, in that rather non-pc way.

Let me explain my circumstance.

I live in a house which was built for the family not long after 1900, My Grand Mother and Grand Father, who I never knew, lived here. My Mother was born in this house in 1924 and died here in 2006.

It has been the only home I have ever known.

Guess who the water bill comes to?

Yes, My Grand Mother, who passed away in the 60s because the Estate is still in her name.

And since I cannot find the title of the house, and there was no will, and nobody knows if the house is actually, legally mine or not, The very special water bill still comes addressed to a Woman who died in the 60’s and thus has no more dealings with the place.

Why can’t MY name be on the bill, cripes, I have been paying the bill now since 2006,
Me, not my dear departed Grand Mother.

Is it just me, or is this just a little bit bullshit?



My Short Fuse

12 02 2011

The PE teacher at high-school, who I almost bit on the ankle once, said that if we should ever feel angry, we should beat up our pillows… I was against that, for one thing, I’m a passive sort of fellow who rarely go angry… I think it’s because I’m large. You never see Clydesdale horses who are pissed off, they’re calm and together, while Shetlands bite. It’s the same with Dogs… Nine times out of ten it’s the little dog who’s full of agro, while your larger dog couldn’t care less.

And I am passive… oh you noticed that bit about taking a chunk out of the PE teachers ankle, eh? well yes, there was that, In the 80s Physical Education was a bit like boot camp, do this, do that, twenty pushups from you for doing the wrong thing… it was supposed to cultivate respect, or something… But I just thought he was a prick.

One day I was made to do these pushups for some crap I had apparently done, and he was standing, right there, within easy reach, and I was tempted, oh so sorely tempted to sink my teeth into his ankle, seriously too, drawing blood and all.

I was mostly angry with him, I hated sports and PE, and I hated wasting my time with it when I could’ve been laying around in the library, absorbing a book on inventions.

I stopped bringing my uniform, and kept saying “I forgot it, sir” which really meant “I didn’t bring it, you skinny cunt, I don’t want to join in”.

Once he bought me a huge pair of shorts, which would have fitted Dumbo, and asked me to put them on… I was torn between wearing them and having the balls to say that I wouldn’t… but years later realised what I shoud’ve done was streak naked through the high-school, who’s main building seperated each classroom with massive sheets of glass, making sure that everyone would’ve got a good view… and I would’ve been expelled, a good job too, I hated the place something fierce.

Sometimes I think that I am an angry person, that deep inside something is bubbling away like a sleeping volcano that may erupt.

I have no tolerance for religion anymore, it’s something that got in my way, stunted my views, tripped me up, blocked my path and basically made life difficult.

When I aired my views to my dear but brainwashed Mum, She yelled out “You’re a Heathen, Just like your Father”, What could a kid do? Although there were times that Mum raised her own doubts.

Dad used to say that he thought the Bible was “A big fish story”.

I highly suspect the reason I was packed off to Sunday School when I could have spent the day resting, was Mum was having problems with my emerging sexuality, and wanted to put the fear of God into me… not that the sunday school people were like that, they were pretty nice people, Not the fire and brimstone type.

Or it was to do with My Cousin who was going through relationship problems, so they’d send all the kids to sunday school to give them a free hours woman to woman chat.

There was a touch of tradition there too, Mum and my Sister had attended, and Mum had a family background with the Salvos and their band.

The first time I saw cancer, it was with Laddie, my very special collie x shepherd, who was my right arm, rather like Katie is today, it was always Laddie and I who did things together.

Laddie taught me responsibility.

Then the cancer came along, and he literally mented like an ice-cream in the sun, I prayed and prayed for him, but nothing could be done, and in the end he died at the vets surgery, just an hour before he got the needle.

I saw a tumour grow in Timothy, a lovely cat, this ball grew inside him at frightening speed, and there was nothing I could do about it, He was put down too.

The next was Dad, who writhed in pain in bed, he had tubes hanging out of him, and there was this smell, it’s always the same smell, like rotting wood, I know what cancer smells like now, I’m too familiar with it, it lingers in the room.

Dad would rush to the toilet and cry out in pain as he tried to move his bowels, there was a mess on his hands, on the walls, a pervasive odour of urine in stained Pyjamas. Dad was a giant, full of brawn and it whittled him down to this, there were prayers again, not that any of them did any good.

Benny, My lovely Malamute, which Dad gave to me after Laddie passed on, was out gentle giant, a loving being who adored everyone, including cats, especially cats, but never other dogs, even females. He taught me how to be open, and be myself, and not worry what others thought, Benny was the escense of Wolfie, had it not been for him, I would never have come this far. He could really let rip with his deep howls, which were useful as Mum lost most of her hearing in the weaving mills years before, She couldn’t always hear the phone ring, but Benny could, and it would get him howling… “What did the phone say?” We’d ask him, and he’d howl in reply… Visitors loved the show, and Benny was always very keen to show off to people.

Benny got cancer, and I prayed, I prayed a lot, but he withered away until eventually his back legs couldn’t hold him, he cried as the vet examined him in our Bathroom, He couldn’t move. His cries sounded like “Oh No!, Oh No!, Oh No!” It was like someone was mourning a child who had just been run over by a train, the sound stabbed me like a knife.

He was given the “green needle” and off he went, we carried him off in a bag.

There was myself, who I’ve written about before, so we’ll skip this.

Then I smelt that smell in Mums Room, That same musty odour, and I told her it was there, I knew that one of us had it, or the carpet was damp, I hoped for the latter, but it wasn’t long before Mum passed on.

Then the phone went one night and it was my Sister, She had Ovarian Cancer… She fought it for over a year, and I really thought she was gaining th upper hand, but she didn’t. Three lots of chemo I think she had, three lots?
I could barely handly one lot… I didn’t think She was as strong as that, and was amazed with her fight, but it was a fight that she lost, and she was cremated last September.

So don’t talk to me about how great your God is, how merciful, and how wonderful he is, there was no help from above. If God was so great, then why did we get cancer in the first place? why were we all forced to suffer? why was I allowed to remain alive even though all my family are dead?

Religion is my trigger now, it sets me off quicker than anything.

I despise it.

God botherers on twitter get a mouthful of abuse if they try to suggest that as an athiest, I’m wrong, I’m not wrong, I know from painful experience that I’m not wrong.

I hate being angry, I really do… there was a time that I was more tolerant, but I can’t be now.

In my opinion, religion has held back science to such a degree that had it been allowed, then perhaps medicine may have been decades ahead of itself, and perhaps there would have already been a cure, perhaps… my family would have still been alive.

I seethe with rage everytime some nut says that “Evolution is just a theory”.

Personally I think Science ought to be using a new word, call it a “fact” instead, get rid of that stupid word, why is science so precious about it anyway, If the whole of Australia suddenly feels that what we used to call biscuits are actually Cookies (Because as you know, The Americans are ALWAYS right, and as a second class country, we’re just not as good as them, they just know better) Then “Theory” can be changed to “FACT.

Science can do this, because unlike some people, we have that flexibility.

So I fight religion now, each and everytime I come up against it, I blog on athiesm, I retweet stories about how catholic priests rape kids and treat Homosexuals poorly, claiming they spread AIDS while simultaniously banning condoms, I post scientific literature on Facebook and discuss it in science forums, I add my voice to the many who are waking up from history and seeing the logical truth which we can clearly see in our age.

Religion is dying, allow it to die, it’s a sad relic of our tribal history.

So please forgive my little explosions on twitter and other places, I really hate being angry, but these days I am just a little more bitter than I’ve been before.


The Radio Works

7 02 2011

I have been trying to piece together some of my personal history, and usually that’s not difficult, a little Googling usually reveals a few interesting sites which fill in vague memories, but oddly enough, not this time… in fact a whole chunk of my life seems, according to the internet, like it didn’t happen.

After I left High School, I attended a Radio School, Since I wanted to be one of those strange people who lock themselves up in a little room all night and tell funnies between playing records… which isn’t much different to what I do now.

Civilians might be interested to learn that there are schools for this, which is probably not much further up the rung from Clown school… They teach useful things like how to yak into a microphone without spitting on it, and advanced knob-twiddling.

We were taught how to read serious news with a serious news voice. and also how to write adverts, make them into something that plays for exactly thirty seconds and put them on carts.

Carts, for the kids born this century, are a bizarre audio cassette thing that never need rewinding, I never did understand how that was possible, Yes I know the tape was looped on the inside, but my wolf brain couldn’t understand how.

So anyway, I joined this radio school, called The Radio Works, which was near HSV7 in Coventry Street, South Melbourne. I spent about three years there. About two years into my education, we moved to South Yarra.

My Classmates, who I mostly new by first name only, included Barry, who emigrated from England, Kevin, who was with the RAAF at the time and would often come dressed in uniform, Bethany Lee, Who was the voice of Val Morgan cinema advertising during the 80’s… anyone who had seen a movie in Melbourne during that decade had heard her voice. And Fiona, Who had aspirations of having a music program, but found, much to her own dissatisfaction, that She was a great news reader… She eventually landed a job with Macquarie News in the late 80’s.

Now here’s the problem.

When I Google, I find little or no information about any of this, it’s almost like I’m in an episode of The Twilight Zone where I had actually been drugged for the entire time and have only imagined that part of my life.

There is next to nothing on Chris Heaney of 3XY (Our Teacher), But there is some suggestion that he worked with 3AW for a while here in Melbourne, I know that he was originally from South Australia, but there’s bugger all on the internet about him.

And It’s curious that despite 3XY being a big name in 70’s and 80’s rock radio in Melbourne, that there is almost no information on wikipedia about it, only after its transitional stage when it was renamed and beyond. Why was so
much history glossed over.

Chris took the class for a look one night, and I remember that Shirl was on the air, Yes, That bloke from Skyhooks, He was with someone else, whose name escapes me, sorry. I remember that some girls came in that night and handed Shirl a big bunch of flowers, I think it might have been his Birthday. Later He came out and chatted to us, He was charming and very down to earth… but I froze because I was such a shy little flower at the time… hard to believe, I know.

Steve Dale was the other teacher at the school, he was working with FOX FM at the time, I really liked Steve, He was a very easy-going bloke, I think He’s still on FM radio in Melbourne today.

It strikes me as odd that these guys have very little trace online, at least I can’t find much, most media people seem to have a webpage, an account with linked in, or at least a Facebook page… although, there were quite a lot of Facebook users called Chris (Christopher) Heaney… It would be useful if we could adjust our search for Facebook users by locality, Haven’t they considered that?

There’s nothing on The Radio Works, when I google it, I’m directed to my own blogs and webpages where I had made mention of it, it’s as if the school never existed, but I did in fact go there and I learnt all I needed to know about knob twiddling, and when it is and isn’t appropriate.

I’m sure someone must know something about the School, or know one of the students, or indeed was a student themselves back in the class of 1986.

So, If you know anything, anything at all, I’d love to hear from you, Please leave a comment below.



* Not the actress, Bethany Lee, from Australian TV.

Update: I just found that 3XY has a Facebook page. 🙂


7 02 2011

Last night, My Facebook beeped at me, indicating someone wanted a chat, alas I was just about to serve my sunday tea, so was in a bit of a rush, but you know me, I like a chat, so, I answered.

It was Boy George, or at least someone claiming to be him.

So I say, Hi George, Look, I’m just about to serve my tea, and I’d really love to chat but…

He was quite insistent and asked me to stay with him, which I kind of did, it’s funny to think that if Thomas Dolby, Freddy Mercury or The Queen phoned me, that I’d put them on hold, I asked George if he could contact me later, but apparently he had to go to work and write some music or clean the shower, still in his 80’s garb… I don’t know.

Yes I know Freddy is dead, a lot of my music heroes are, it happens when you get to my age, sometimes I think that singers are the embodiment of youth and must fall off the perch before they’re forty, Logan’s Run comes to mind, look it up if you don’t know what I’m on about.

A sixty year old Michael Jackson just wouldn’t have worked, I often feel the same about myself, and I’ve never been certain that perhaps I was supposed to fall off my perch at 39, as nature seemed to have intended… except I fought back, and won… I think.

I was doing a music quiz show on Second Life, and would write all my own questions. I have a lot of 80’s music trivia in my head, but would supplement my knowledge with Wikipedia, which I know isn’t always right, but would usually be used to confirm something I was a bit vague about… and it would bring me down, a lot of the Musos I really liked died, usually of AIDS, some of an overdose, Falco of “Rock me Amadeus” died in a car crash.

So The veggies weren’t cooked yet, so I continued the chat, I really wasn’t sure what to talk about, So I asked George if he had Dogs, He said he has two, A Bulldog and a Mastiff, I didn’t imagine George to be the doggie sort, but apparently (possibly) he is, He was quite interested in Katie, Who you might know is my own dear Malamute.

When I type, it’s with two fingers, and I look at the keyboard when I do it, glancing at the screen, usually after I hit return, which is a bad habit.

I told him about the lovely little french bulldog I saw wanking with his owner…

I almost died.

I have often almost typed “I’m going to wank the dog” so many times, but caught it before I’d hit the return button, this time I blew it… or perhaps I shouldn’t use that word at the moment.

Had I been a politician, My gaffe would have made news worldwide.

I hastily corrected myself, and the conversation went on, but George had to go, and I had food, so we parted ways.

I know that the guy was most likely fake, but the funny thing was that it left me feeling lovely all evening, I love my 80’s music, and to have potentially talked to a hero of the day, in such an awkward way, really appealed to my odd sense of humour, I may talk to him again, and if it happens, I don’t particularly care if he’s real or not, it was funny, weird, and was most therapeutic.

So thanks George, or whoever you are, I loved it.

And when I got into bed later, I remembered a fantasy I had about another band.

My first pop favourites were Abba, I had just got over kids records, and they were the first adult band which I went mad for, although I was very much aware of music, even in my youngest days. I knew who the Beatles were, The Carpenters, Sony and Cher, The Jacksons. I could identify them when they were on the radio and their songs when all my friends were still singing kindergarten stuff.

I had this fantasy, that one night, Abba would be driving past in their big car, which would break down in front of our place, and they’d have no alternative but to knock on our door, and ask for help.

Of course I would invite them in, and they’d all lay out their sleeping bags on my floor, Mum and Dad would have been happy with the arrangement and we’d all sleep or sing or tell jokes, anything but sleep.

Then later, Bjorn, Benny, Anna and Frida would all be snoring on the floor of my bedroom, while I was in bed!

I’m sure that most kids have had dreams of their pop idol sleeping over night at their place, the names would be different, but the feeling would be just the same, Of course some would want to do more than sleep… but for me, at my very young age, about ten I think, Sex simply didn’t come into it.

My feelings towards you who have provided the soundtrack of my life, whether you were around for years, or a one hit wonder who vanished back into the ether, Thankyou very much.


Post Second Life

7 02 2011

I thought I’d have time off from Second Life, and see how that goes. Maybe after a few weeks I’d have rested enough and suddenly decide to go back.

But I haven’t felt any desire to return.

Although Second Life was a place where I could pretty much do anything, it also came with so many rules and operations (prim limits, island stuff) and the bitching, as to smother anything that was lovely about it.

Would I return and carry that torch for the thing that I tried to convince others was worth their time and efforts, and the thing that I often tried to convince myself was worth my time and effort?

Yes, I know, I was the cheer leader for Second Life for such a long time, but even during the time that we were filming our Doco, I was already asking myself why I was hanging on, I had taken it about as far as I could go, I wanted more, but there wasn’t more.

Then I found what I was missing was over on other social networks, suddenly it seemed that the place I thought was mine, really wasn’t, that I’d been fooling myself this entire time.

I never liked the aspect that Second Life took, where a person was supposed to concentrate on Second Life things, but somehow not on real life.

At no point was this made clearer than when Julia Gillard was made Prime Minister.

Twitter was all over it, In fact Twitter knew about it before TV did (nothing unusual there), The news broke while Hey Hey it’s Saturday was on… I watched it, and the rest of the show, there was probably half an hour left, Then, after the show finished, I went into Second Life to do my usual Schtick of playing News Boy for ABC and The Australians group, But feeling I’d be far too late, they’d all know.

But they didn’t, not till I mentioned it, I was very surprised… I think, perhaps I still don’t like admitting the harsh reality to myself, that this is how things really were.

In Second Life, people disconnect themselves from the Real World a bit too much, I do understand, sometimes the real world is too hard to take. We look for escape, somewhere to hide… but a line needs to be drawn, people can’t go around being that disconnected, but they can, and do.

I read Myf Warhursts article on Second Life, and wrote to her, defending it, as I always did, but a part of me probably felt that she was right.

Not that long ago, my computer always displayed the goings on in Eragon or ABC Islands, suddenly it didn’t… I thought I’d go back, but there was no desire… I did momentarily to show a friend on twitter what it was, that was for an hour, maybe that would make me reconsider, it didn’t.

Days go by now, I do my tweeting and facebooking, I compose e-mails and write to my blog, I feel more at home now than I ever did in that big 3D world with nobody in it. I talk to people who are in media, and I understand them because I’m one of them, I’m on their frequency.

I couldn’t wait to get back into Second Life once, to see what was happening, but it’s attraction soured so much for me that I wonder if I ever really did like Second Life at all.

And Katie doesn’t mind the extra time spent with her, although I doubt that She ever missed out on much.

Wolfie! (The 2D Version)