Hi Method Man

Im so behind its not funny. Im digging myself a deeper and deeper hole. I think Im slowly finding something about myself, though. The new thing I found out about myself is this: Im not very good on following up after big excursions. I dont know how to describe it, but ever since I started this thing, the hardest time that Ive have had, on consistent basis that is, has been following up after a big long trip. Normally youd think this would be easy time time to write... lots of stories, lots to talk about, it should be effortless, almost write itself. That would be the logical progression. However, I guess, it doesnt quite work for me that way, and it may just come down to this: I have a natural instinctual resistance to anything that may be seen as showing off, even in the slightest. For example, in typical conversation, I dont talk about anything Ive done unless someone asks. I never offer myself up, and I dont bring attention to myself. Im that wallflower in the corner. Come talk to me, and Ill talk no problem... but when it comes to imposing myself, Ill always have a hard time. Always.

Enuff excuses though, Sydney / Whitsundays / NZ was a blast. Who can really complain about having a full month away? Apart from my emptied wallet, that is. Sydney, being now the 3rd time visiting, is still one of my favorite cities in the whole world. It goes like this -> Sydney, Vancouver, New York, Madrid, Kolkatta. Thats my top five. Except Kolkatta. Im joking, I hate that shithole. Replace Kolkatta with Calgary. Again Joking. Paris. Not joking. And I would probably like Paris and Madrid more if I could actually understand people. So, Im probably under rating. Lets talk again when Ive mastered Spanish and French, whenever that is. Bonjour, que tal?

Heres the thing with Australia and NZ though, the housing dwellings are only designed for 9 months of the year. No central heating. And I was there during the southern hemisphere Winter, so its a big deal. Im sure Ive talked about this before, but its such an important topic of discussion that I just have to bring it up again, houses down there NEED FREAKIN HEATERS. Just because its super duper hot most of the year doesnt mean you can forget about the 1 or 2 months of the year you freeze your ass off in your own home. Its ridiculous. Like there should be some kind of 'cop on' eventually, when your blankets are crispy from ice in the morning, and it feels like your camping, and youre walking up in a tent. Its too cold.

Second thing about down there: They make the best burgers. I missed this dearly from the last time. The Aussie burger and Kiwi burgers are masterpieces not found anywhere else, obvious ying for yang retaliation for the disgusting fermented bread spread mistake better known as Vegemite. Heres the details: Burgers as big as dinner plates, with the typical lettuce tomato fillins, plus a few key additions - fried egg, aussie relish (which is like a sweet worchestershire sauce), beetroot, and sometimes pineapple. Its a wierd mix, but it just simply works. Its for these choice moments that Warrant had it exactly right, and Heaven isnt too far away. And as Linda has always described it, a good Aussie burger is measured by the amount of juice that dribble down your forearms as you eat.

Third Impression: Although Id been to NZ before, Id never been to South Island. And now that I have, I can declare South Island is freakin dope awesome to the power of gnarly. Didz and I did a week with a Jucy camper van, which is the best and only way to explore NZ. Like where else can you drive from Rohan to Gondor within a few hours without having to need a horse? It is an unbeliavable gorgeous place. And this is coming from someone who comes from one of the most scenic places in the world, Western Canada (Canada I can show off about fairly effortlessly, Annex I, to my declaration in the first paragraph). But whereas Western Canada is so spread out (and by Western Canada, Im defining it as all of BC plus the bit of Alberta which is occupied by the Rocky Mountains, and does not by any means include any neighboring areas, such as the foothills or the plains), NZ South Island does it all within an area just slightly bigger than Vancouver Island. And by slightly bigger, I mean 5 times bigger. But still.

Fourth Impression: NZ is just WAY too fit for a nation. Its stupid. Like really. I saw a grandma running hard up a mountain, while I drove up that same mountain, and it looked like she could of beat me if I stayed in 2nd gear. Like practically sprinting! And that was with some 10-12 year old grand kids running beside her! When I was 10-12, I didnt run for fun, no the hell way. I only ran away from girls trying to headbutt me with their cabbage patch dolls, and the noises made in the forest behind my backyard which I thought was Bigfoot. I played NES Super Mario Brothers, thats what I did when I was 10-12 for fun. Running was not fun. And it shouldnt be fun for Grandmas. It just seems like everyone runs in NZ. Like everyone. And you may get that impression about some of the more cosmo cities in the world, witnessing people running in spades. However the difference about NZ is that when Kiwis run, they definitely know what they are doing by majority. Its like watching the 10,000 meter qualifications at the olympics. Perfect athletic form, crazy fast pace, and 4 to 5 out of 5 have that. That runners form, that graceful effortless stride. Anywhere else in the world, people do run, but most would look like Phoebe running in Central Park, or my mom running after a bus... not graceful. Most other places, at least half of the people running actually dont look like they know what they are doing, look stiff, have awkward gaits and look to be struggling. Its true. NZ though, its as if even grandma is channeling Paula Radcliffe and is shooting for a personal best. She would definitely kick my ass. I have no doubt, even though she was probably born in the 1930s. Kiwis are just too fit, and if they werent running they would be playing Rugby or kayaking or biking or doing push ups. Its not fair.

Anyways I find myself in NYC right now, almost two months after getting back from Aussie / NZ, there was no way I could continue on and move on with this blog without catching a bit up. Because since then Ive already been to Austria and London and now NYC, but with no mention yet whatsoever.

Now as for pictures. Theyll come soon too. Once I get back to Irlande, Im still working on them. Soon. Hopefully. Maybe. ( I always say that though )

And earlier today I saw Method Man walk by us. 18th and 6th. Jill had her back turned, and was doubtful and didnt believe me, just like how I only 95% believe her that Matt Damon ran past her in Central Park a few weeks ago. And how did I know it was him? Because its Method Man! And because I got caught looking too long, and he gave me the 'oh shit nigga, Im busted, homie knows who I am' look. You know the look.

A little Dilly Dally..

Its 4:05am in the morning.

Ill distract by sharing a bit of what Im listening to right now, frantically trying to combat my immediate restlessness; share some Massive Attack, and easily one of my most favorite songs of all time, Teardrop.

This is a version recorded for Live from Abbey Road, a documentary series from Channel 4 in the UK. Melodically haunting yet still this tune doesn't ever seem to fail in providing me a state of ease and simplicity. I just really love it.

Delay tactics....

Im a bit behind schedule, still sorting out photos to post, and storied travel bits to point form. I know I know, late and procrastinate: its the way I do. I have a valid excuse this time though, I arrived from my 30 hr, Sydney to Abu Dhabi to Dublin travel journey last Sunday, the 30th... went to work the next day, Monday the 31st... and by 6:30am the morning of Tues. Sept 1st, I was already flying off to a new work assignment in Graz Austria. I didnt even get a chance to delete the months worth of unread emails yet. One day back in the office, still in the throes of fresh jet lag, and Im sent away the next morning at stupid o clock. I didnt get back home again till Friday midnight.. and have been a complete vegetable since. And now, not only do I have one suitcase in my livingroom waiting to be emptied and unpacked, I now have two, including the one I just brought back from my work trip. And, since Im me, those two suitcases will now sit there for a very long time, before I even bother working through them... again, its just the way I do.

Productive things I did do today though: Emptied my garbage, cleaned my kitchen, cleaned out my recycling, and purchased new pillows and a duvet set just cuz I felt like a change after being away for so long (of course, Egyptian cotton with a high thread count. We all must have some standards) Washing them right now as we speak, which, as Marty and a few others would know from experience, should be ready by November.

In the meantime (Spacehog, great song), enjoy this "People much better than me" post from Rick Reilly on Derek Jeter, date 09/04/09. The quote on #7 is probably one of the greatest quotes in the history of mankind. And Im dead serious. Who else could ever pull this off? Look at his career numbers, he's not even that great of a shortstop... yet his career women numbers is untouchable. He has successfully scooped 4 of my top 5 of all time (Jessica, Jessica, Jordana, Minka). All he is missing is Heidi Klum, and he would of went a clean sweep through my fantasy 5. The only stain really is Mariah, but only because we are thinking of crazy messed up Mariah of 2003-2009, instead of late 90s version Mariah that Derek dated, when she was still in her prime, with her Al Iafrate slapshot still in tact. Like, I don't even know what else to say.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espnmag/reillygofish

The Holy Month of Ramadan

Its no secret that I dislike Airplane food. Even in the upper classes, airplane food on the most part is barely edible, having the preparation quality of a 1980s frozen dinner. Im a guy though, and I can still eat, as my grandparents have always reinforced into me, you cant waste food. On my flight earlier today to Abu Dhabi from Sydney (connection point on my way back to Sunny Ireland), I made a mental note not to eat, and save myself for the much better food at Abu Dhabi airport. Fourteen hour Etihad Airways flight, I will be vigilant and withhold myself from nourishment, so that by the time I arrive at Abu Dhabi for my 3 hour connection stopover, I can eat blissfully, as opposed to oppressively in cramped conditions (no upgrade this time, how do I survive... I dont know).

By the time we were approaching Abu Dhabi for descent, I heard the following airplane announcement " allah akbar allah allah mahalay ohh sama ladin allah sama lakam" or something to that effect in arabic. Then the translation came.. "The captain has informed us that he is now preparing for our decent. Please return to your seats in preparation for landing. Also The United Arab Emirates is now observing the Holy Month of Ramadan. It will not be permitted to eat, drink or smoke during daylight hours".

Excuse me? WHAT!!!? Im not muslim, are you serious, Im starving, I just fasted for 14 hours already!! Nothing but drink and alcohol, which frankly makes you even MORE hungry, if starving for 14 hours wasnt enough. I looked outside the window, and it was 6am in the morning local time, it JUST turned daylight. Summabitch... what a disaster. A verifiable Disaster! It cant be, there must be an exception for us infidels, just like smoking rooms, there must be a "western eat and drink all you want during daylight hours" room. There must.. like comeon, youre killing me...

So as we decended I was getting the hunger sweats. I was getting hangry. I had no emergency snacks with me, and even if I did, would I be caught, and thrown into muslim jail for breaking the law and eating during daylight hours? Possibly tongue cut out? or beheaded? I dont know... sounds plausible though. Yet, if I had a Crunchie bar in my backpack, I was ready to be ninja elusive and risk it.

Walking off the plane, I couldn't help studying all the airport workers and airline personnel along the way. The grounds crew, the tarmac workers, the cleaner people. It looked dire. It was only maybe 30 minutes into daylight, and they all already looked oppressed and starving. Not a good sign. Not at all. And as I entered the Terminal, I immediately saw all the prayer rooms, with the locals kneeling and pointed east in prayer. Most definitely praying for the strength to survive a whole daylight period without eating. Thats what I would be praying for anyways. And as I acutely scanned around, there definitely was no one eating at all. So it turns out the airplane lady was not pulling an elaborate joke. Just then, I got a contraction and I could feel the angry acid in my stomach attacking my stomach walls.

So anyways, depressed, I walked the 20 minute walk to my departure gate. I think I was close to tears. The prospects were bleak, if I were to eat, I would have to wait at least another 4 hours for terrible airplane food, on the next flight to Dublin, but that flight was also Etihad Airways, and if they were not serving food the on ground, there was the possibility they would not serve food in the air either. That flight was another 8 hours to Dublin... so in total at the very worst, it would be another 12 hours before eating. I was getting a migrane.

As I was thinking these dreadful things, consumed in my own woe, I passed a Burger King that was open. And serving food, to people. Ah the Infidels of western commercial fast food culture! Praise Allah! Best Whopper EVER. Both of them.

So yeah anyways... Ill be preparing my Aussie NZ post soon enough... but I just had to say... that was really scary.

Killed it

Its official, I want to take it all back. The JK Wedding footage has completed been killed by over exposure. Absolutely murdered to death. Its too much. Way too much, TV appearances, global news references. It used to be so good, but now its turned into the MMmmmBop of Youtube videos. It was reenacted on Aussie TV! Aussie TV even! By Aussie Dancing with the Stars dancers! Like comeon... just stop.

By the way, Im in Australia...

The most awesomest wedding entrance ever..

Im a big a fan of the escape wedding, the international destination wedding... small intimate and in a far away land with guaranteed good weather. Big local weddings are not me. However, I will add a disclaimer that the only way I would ever agree to a big invite everyone wedding, is if we did it like this:



Now who wants to marry me...

Noli

I may have mentioned or alluded to it before over my many past writings , and since Im two weeks away from that 5 year blog anniversary (The wooden anniversary! woohoo, Ill have wood!) I have to re-admit that I have a wierd love / hate relationship with this blog. In many ways I absolutely love it, and would be lost without it. Being able to communicate, express myself and hopefully in limited circumstances, make people laugh at my expense; just getting a *chance* to share a moment where you and I are the only ones that exist, even for a short moment, its the sole reason I write. Im absolutely devoted to the idea of creating that rare connection, however small the possibility. Also, with my acceptance of my own wallflower self, its one of the few ways I have the courage to do so. As you 3 people that read this already know, sometimes I may update on my life, or, more like it, a twisted slant on which is my life. Sometimes I write about what I think, and sometimes just on random pop-culture shite that is as nutritious as junk food... its not good for you, but it tastes good and its good for me. Its my pseudo-diary.

Then there are moments I do hate it, especially when I have low motivation, and have absolutely nothing to write about. Writing can be the easiest exercise ever sometimes, and yet there are long moments where its the most impossible: When I feel committed to it, but frustrated because I cant contribute. Its like working out or running. I absolutely hate working out and running. Its so hard to get up for it. But afterwards, once its done, there really are not many better feelings. A sense of personal accomplishment and successful commitment to something that is good for you. Plus the endorphins are kinda cool, too. Its like the feeling I get after listening to good new music. (And an unbeatable combination when held in tag team) Its just too bad getting up for it, its sometimes just too hard.

Still 5 years. almost. Not bad, who knew. And Instead of waiting till then to attempt to write a fitting tribute, I decided to do it now. I was in one of those moods to write, is all. With Phoenix and Iron & Wine playing in the background, and now the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs sneaking their way in near the end, I had created a suiting environment. And better now, than possibly struggling in two weeks, when words could escape me. Plus, on July 24th, on that 5 year anniversary date, Ill be at the U2 Concert in Dublin, with my sister, Emma. U2 in the hallowed grounds of Croke Park, Dublin. AGAIN! And with Glas Vegas and Damien Dempsey opening for them as well, Im probably not going to find time to write. Ill be too busy listening to my New York buddy Bono preach about poor Africa.