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DesDownunder

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Blog Entries posted by DesDownunder

  1. DesDownunder

    (35) My new story

    By DesDownunder,

    My latest story "Definitions" has just been posted at Codey's World.
    Definitions -my new story
    I hope you all enjoy reading it.
    Sometimes we forget how much effort and time goes into getting a story not only written, but also the people behind the scenes who edit and publish our stories for us wretched authors.
    I would like to thank Codey and Ben for their help and inspiration for this story.
    After you have read "Definitions" drop into the CW's homepage and have a look at all the other new stories and poems as well.
    Don't forget too, The AwesomeDude has wonderful stories and forums.
    We are so lucky to have these sites. Drop in and say "Hi", Let the author's and the site owners know you are enjoying the toils of their slaving. (Some of us even like positive criticism.)
    Most of us will reply with a big thank you.
    Okay I will stop there before I get emotional and start getting teary-eyed.

  2. DesDownunder
    So we had a storm. First, the wind blew out the pilot light on the water heater.
    Then the wind blew the side fence over at an angle of 30 degrees leaning into the street; its jagged edges just waiting to decapitate the early morning joggers. The gutter is conveniently placed nearby to catch their heads.
    I had to get the care serviced. I get it serviced every year whether it needs it or not. This year it only cost $210. I think the mechanic was pleased that I warned him to put a plastic sheet on the car seat to protect his overalls.
    The side wing of my glasses fell off, but the wasn't caused by the storm.
    The good news is that the glasses will be fixed under warranty.
    The fence repairer wants $ 40 a metre to fix it. (10 x 40 = $400).
    Where am I am going to find $400?
    Mature age men don't usually make that much money in a month, no matter what talents they may have.
    So I find the local Tool hire shop and guess what? They have a post hole digger for $80 a day.
    I'll need 9 posts and 3 bags of cement. Oh goody I can do it myself and save $200.
    The supermarket has stopped making fresh donuts. What will we have for breakfast now?
    I'm exhausted just thinking about it all...I'm going to have a rest.
    At least the wind has stopped.

  3. DesDownunder
    As strange as it will seem to our Northern siblings, today is the first day of spring in Australia.
    This is due to the tilt of the Earth's orbit and axis, (which, despite those who think otherwise is not part of an axis of evil), bringing the Southern Hemisphere to a greater exposure to the Sun.
    Walking in space, this can be clearly be seen and is a wonderful site.
    To walk in space by the way all you have to do is close your eyes and step off the edge of the world.
    This also should provide you with the knowledge that any axis of evil is all in the minds of certain politicians who only see evil wherever they look.
    Springtime in Australia has no relationship to Springtime for Hitler, talking about Axis of evil.
    Our own evil obsessed politicians are to be voted upon in a forth coming election and the good people of Australia are intent on trying to work out the lesser of those evils to elect to power. Power of course is usually just one axis of evil after another.
    Today however, the sun is shining and the birds are singing. The young men are trying on their bathing costumes and the rest of us are having evil thoughts about that.
    Tanning shops are selling tans at horrendously evil prices for those who don't have enough time to bath in the sun for a natural tan, owing to the fact that they all have evil jobs that make them work till after sundown, but at least they have the money to pay for the tan.
    Spring carnivals, we call them "Royal Shows," are being prepared in every state. Sales of candy floss (would you believe we call it "Fairy floss") along with rancid hot dogs in mouldy bread left over from last week's football games will be sold at evilly obscene prices, along with meat pies covered in sauce or sitting in a bowl of pea soup which we call a "pie floater."
    The Royal Shows have what we call side shows with really evil rides that usually end up being quite unsafe. It is a good idea to not stand near these rides as the riders sometimes vomit up the aforementioned hot dogs or pies, or both, and it flies out all over the bystanders in the crowd. Luckily it usually rains in the afternoons and washes people clean as they head home with an evil head cold.
    Spring also sets young people to fancy evil thoughts about what they would like to do to each other and thankfully for them, they usually manage to succeed in have a fun time doing it. Older people of course are obsessed with stopping them from having such fun, simply because they have forgotten how to have it themselves, or so the young think.
    Anyway I will leave you to ponder the evil joys of Springtime in OZ as you Northerners head into Autumn - Fall before the evils of Winter over take you and Summer burns the hell out of us downunder.
    What a wonderful World!

  4. DesDownunder
    A local news magazine reported that a poetry reading group in Adelaide was having some issues with a person who wanted to read what some people regard as porn.
    Now I should explain that this poetry reading group has been around since the 1970s, but because I have been a shift worker and an avid supporter of whatever free time I have should be devoted to getting my rocks off, rather than reading poetry, I have never attended their meetings.
    However my recently awoken interest in poetry (caused by Awesome Dude) and the story itself piqued my interest, so I went to their monthly meeting last night.
    What a group of lefties. So that's where the left went. Of course there were a few representatives of the right, but in the spirit of live and let live they were heard with polite applause or giggles sniggers or even a roll of the eyes.
    The porn fellow was most uninteresting, but many thought he should be heard as they did not want to introduce thoughts of censorship into the meeting or the group itself.
    Freedom of expression and all that was protected with the usual cries of defending the rights of people to be heard. He was given the last slot of the evening to read his stuff, so people could leave if they didn't want to hear him.
    I read two of my poems published in AwesomeDude Forums and Codey's World. No one batted an eyelid, and I received a lot of applause and pats on the back for my efforts.
    I of course took the opportunity to plug AD and CW. So Dude and Codey can expect a few new visitors at the sites.
    All this brought my mind to realising how stimulating it was to read my poems and listen to others.
    There was over a 150 people at the meeting.
    I cannot begin to explain how great it was to be in room of inspiring and aspiring poets. Good bad and indifferent poems were read and all were accorded polite or enthusiastic reception.
    So Guys I recommend you find a local poet's group read your stuff, promote CW and AD if you can, and you may well find yourself inspired to write more.
    And yes there were some very cute guys there, who knows your next lover may be a poet.
  5. DesDownunder

    (39) Don't Fence Me In

    By DesDownunder,

    What next can go wrong?
    No don't tell me. I don't want to know.
    After all the other various catastrophes (see previous blog entries) the fence blew over in reasonably mild storm. I have shopped around Very carefully and have found a man who will fix the fence for $400.
    But the old fence is next to useless. The wooden railings have rotted. The posts have snapped off beneath the earth and a new fence is only $930. Bargain! Should I get two in case of another storm?
    (No, the insurance won't cover the fence as storm damage because the wood had rotted.) Silly me for thinking otherwise. I am so stupid.
    On top of that the computer has gone sillier than me. I have to start the thing then wait for it to not open Windows while it goes to a black screen, then press the reboot button. It then boots up okay. Office has stopped working properly. It has dropped back to an old install?? So I will need to update that.
    Now all of this is just a drain on my meagre savings. I soon won't have enough money to pay the boyfriend to keep living with me. Not that he charges much. So long as I keep him fed with donuts for breakfast he is happy.
    You guessed it, his favourite donuts come from the supermarket where their donut machine broke down and they can't get parts to fix it.
    So I have to make scones or toast and the b/f is not looking happy at all. He wants his donuts.
    I have asked the fencing fellow to put the new fence up as fast as he can so I will be able to let the b/f out into the backyard without fear of him running away. At the moment he is locked in the bedroom and I only let him out to shower or go to the video store to work to earn the money I am spending on cars, fences, printers, scanners and computers, all of which I need, so that the video store business will attract customers who continually believe that their sole purpose on the planet is to scratch the DVDs they hire from us. Although I will admit some of the DVDs, when they are returned, look like they have been used to serve the orderves Hors d??uvres at a garden party. I won't mention those that have teeth marks from where the hirers' kids have used the DVD for a Frisbee for their pet dog to catch.
    But I am not complaining, you understand, I have my health (so long as I can afford to buy my heart medicine, along with my vitamin supplements.)
    Thursday I have to take the b/f's car in for a new clutch. The car not the b/f. Thankfully his clutch is still fine, so long as the lights are out.

  6. DesDownunder
    As I promised, (or did I threaten? I can't remember) I have returned. (you there in the back row, stop groaning!)
    I have a new computer, a new fence and the B/f has a new clutch..in his car, and the Bank has a better return on the money it has loaned us, but most important of all, the local supermarket has installed a new donut machine, so we have donuts for breakfast again. The B/f is overjoyed.
    (It doesn't take much to keep him happy, but then you only have to look at me to know that.
    I managed to replace the fence for only a couple of hundred dollars more than fixing the old one. I found a handyman who is an excellent tradesman. He worked steadily away all day listening to a Left wing radio station whilst cursing our present Right wing politicians, all so he that could raise his kids. What a nice man.
    For those with the curiosity on all geek things, the old computer's motherboard mouse circuitry expired.
    I had been promising myself a new computer for September, but was holding out for the new AMD quad cores motherboards.
    Unfortunately they did not materialize here and the international reviews are still indicating the Intels as better.
    As it was a new machine, I could get Windows Vista OS at greatly reduced cost along with Office 2007.
    I am not happy. Oh the computer is fine 6600 Intel quad 4 core with 4 gig RAM plus 2x500 gig Hard drives. What I am not happy with is Vista.
    Now before you all go telling me I should have got a Mac, let me explain somethings to you.
    I am of the opinion that we humans have a genetic disposition to either Mac or Windows.
    Trying to tell me that I should use a Mac is like telling me I should sleep with a woman.
    It ain't gonna happen!
    And that is what is so infuriating about Windows Vista, If I had wanted a Mac I would have bought one.
    At the moment Linux is looking rather inviting as the most readily available OS that will allow exploration of the computer development and environment, as opposed to the Mac and now Windows pre-emptive control over for what and how we use our computers.
    To carry my sex life analogy a little further, I rather feel like I have woken up with a couple of transgendered persons (one of each) either side of me, each one trying to be like the other whilst vying to excite me, of course without success.
    So in case you haven't got the idea, I detest Vista and Office 2007 has, for all intents and purposes been neutered. I can't see that it will be productive or even reproductive in its present form.
    The free office programs are going to be very popular, seducing everyone with with their well known attributes.
    I would tell Mac and Windows to go do things to each other but I rather feel they already have.
    Oh well, fortunately (to a degree) Xp is more than adequate for my needs and Vista can sit on the other hard drive until Bill fixes it or replaces it, hopefully not with another abortion.
    So now I have the joy of rebuilding and installing lots of software.
    I just hope it is all worthwhile...
    Now if I can just train the b/f not to use my morning wood as a donut rack.
    err donut anyone?
  7. DesDownunder
    I hate to say I told you so, but I didn't did I?
    I never actually said it out loud. So I will say it now.
    The current practise of looking for someone to blame
    instead of seeking to solve problems is going to cause
    the downfall of our society.
    There I said it.
    What brought this on you may well ask, and I will tell you
    because I want you to know, and I am sure you want to know, too, now.
    I have suffered under numerous bureaucrats, managers and
    other legal obsessed individuals in positions of power in the
    workplace to see that they all, were totally unaware of the principle
    of trust in others, mostly because they had never considered
    anything other than their own failings of which their greed and ambition
    were high priorities.
    Assumption of the worst in mankind begets exactly that and more.
    Treat people like idiots and you will encourage idiocy.
    Treat people like automatons and you will get robots.
    Treat people like loving caring, humane individuals and
    you just might support someone who makes life worthwhile.
    At the moment I am reeling under the influence of computer
    stupidity. The Vista operating system engineers have taken the easy way out of
    the security issue by forcing their concepts of doing useful work.
    Like the Nazi, legal, bureaucrats referred to above, the computer software
    designers have no idea of the requirements of human endeavour
    and creativity.
    Bounded by their own mediocrity and "intelligent backsides", we find ourselves
    having to cope with inadequate solutions to very real problems.
    When will these people realise that human beings need freedom as individuals
    to create, work and even simply have fun?
    So what can we do?
    I wish I knew. In fact I have a pretty good idea of what we can do, but apart from that,
    we can all help by letting them know that we are like Peter Finch in the movie
    "Network," when he said:
    "I am as a mad as Hell and I'm just not going to take it anymore."
    Go on, go over to the window and yell it to whomever is listening.
    Better still go out the front door, into the street and shout it as loudly as you can.
    It will make you feel better.
    Then send out an invitation to Microsoft and Apple and anyone else you know of their ilk
    to join us in a "Love-in."
    These people need Love. Lots of it too, I would guess at a pinch.
    These people have become dickheads, because they have forgotten how to
    masturbate and so play with their braincell instead, probably because it is bigger.
    We need to organise a mass demonstration of how trust can make a difference.
    Put all these computer nerds in one big room without any clothes and see if they
    can come up with any solutions...
    We should show them the greatest achievements of the human race have come
    from individuals who have been encouraged by both adversity and inspiration, but never by
    deprivation of their ability to be creative.
    Computers are great tools with a promise of extending human abilities but not in the form that Vista takes.
    I did tell you I don't like Vista didn't I?

  8. DesDownunder

    (42) Exhausted

    By DesDownunder,

    I'm exhausted!
    The new computer is up and running...on Windows XP.
    I still have a number of programs to install and the hard drives need to be configured to my
    weird standards of operation.
    I must tell you of a program I happened across that I bought because I really like it.
    It is called "Priority Master 7". Basically it allows you to set priorities for the running of programs in relation to CPU usage. At least that is what I think it does.
    Left in auto mode the program boosts the current app and decreases others to idle mode.
    The overall effect is to make the computer more responsive, saving time and frustration.
    You can see the program at
    http://www.prioritymaster.com/
    A friend of mine who was disappointed with his computer has tried it too, and he is now happy.
    I have loads of work to catch up on so I will still won't be around as much as I want, but I hope to be back annoying you all soon. I have a few unfinished poems that are aching to be completed.

  9. DesDownunder
    Setting aside (at last - sort of) the woes of my days,
    I am delighted to report that I have had my evil ways,
    With the computer software installation,
    And set it up for minimal infestation,
    By wanderers of Trojan harms
    So I am alerted with many alarms,
    To all attempts of corruption
    Of my new toy.
    I seem to have run out of rhymes,
    Because I am having the best of times.
    Whose blog is this anyway?
    Should I run away,
    Before I am found out,
    and beaten to a pulp.
    There it happened again
    No more rhyming,
    So I will abstain,
    from trying,
    Wow is this ever insane? I'll,
    Stop now before I became banal.

  10. DesDownunder
    I can't believe I have done it again. No not that, you dirty minded boys!
    You may remember, or not, that sometime ago I fell up some marble stairs and broke some front ribs.
    This time I fell backwards in the bath tub and did the back ribs in, (just so I would even things up.)
    My feet slipped out from under me and I was aware I was doing a horizontal levitation before crashing my right ribs into the side of the bath. Actually I was unlucky as I am so light I would have floated down except for the force of the shower water hitting me and speeding up my fall.
    As I was descending, I realised I was wondering if this was "it." Would I strike my head and and crack my skull open and watch my braincell being swept down the drain, swirling in a mass of blood and gooey bits? Would I paralyse myself and just drown in the hot water, my time of death being concealed by the heat of the water?
    I could imagine the b/f coming home and finding my remains all wrinkled by the running water and telling me I had aged quite noticeably since this morning.
    Staggering quickly to my feet, I deduced I had done the ribs in, but wasn't in too bad a shape otherwise.
    I cancelled the fun I had planned for the shower and dried myself with the warm fluffy towel.
    Ice pack to the ribs helped diminish the bruising and the pain.
    But the soreness cut in by morning. So I will just have to grin and bare it for a few weeks while it heals.
    Fortunately, for me, it doesn't hurt to type, so I will be able to report to you all.
    When the next door neighbour heard about me falling in the tub, she announced that perhaps I should think about a nursing home.
    Over my dead body, that's going to happen.
    Perhaps I should get some strong muscly young man to help me shower? Yeah that sounds like a plan.
  11. DesDownunder
    Whatever must you all be thinking of me? I mean it is 12 days since my last blog entry.
    So to catch up, my ribs a re much better, thanks. I have a short story in editing stage and I have a new computer operating without Vista.
    I think I might have a new poem coming on, but these things can be elusive.
    I know I had worked out the opening lines just before I fell asleep last night, but I can't remember a thing about them today, but it was a great idea and I'm sure it revealed several fascinating details about the human condition.
    Talking about the human condition I always feel it should be available at the supermarket on the shelf alongside the human shampoo.
    Our local supermarket probably wouldn't stock it though, as it is run by homophobic moron managers.
    A wonderful, efficient, cheerful and intelligent young man in his early twenties has been the life of the checkouts, ever since he came to work with his hair spiked in the shape of Roman Centurion helmut.
    I of course mentioned to him how much I envied his black spiky hairdo and told him I would have something similar (but in red) if I still had all my hair. He laugh flirtatiously with me and always smiles when he sees me.
    I guess we both pretty much guessed we had a common desire in men's hairstyles, if you get my meaning?
    Anyway a couple of weeks ago he was checking me out, or was I checking him out? No he was checking out my groceries...Oh dear that sounds kinky doesn't it?
    A couple of weeks ago he was scanning my goods...errr, registering my prices, ringing up my items?
    I was at the checkout counter with my purchases when I noticed he had blonded the spikes of his hair, but left the sides of his hair jet black. It suited his dark features and I complimented him on the hair style.
    "The boss doesn't like it," he told me, "I have to have it normal by Monday or they will fire me."
    "That's outrageous," I said, "An invasion of your personal self expression."
    "That's what the union said," he said to me, "so they are going to talk to management tomorrow."
    "Well if you need someone to say they are happy with your work, I am willing to stand by you." I told him. He thanked me.
    Of course I would have been willing to stand, sit, kneel or lay down by him, but I didn't say so. I didn't want to scare the poor boy. I thought he was probably already stressed out enough.
    He thanked me again, as I gathered up the scanned goods and departed with spiky images stored for late night fantasies at my house.
    A few days later I saw him again and he said that management wasn't pleased but the union had made it clear, his hair style was not to be subject of his performance...as a checkout operator. He thought they would try to get him to resign though.
    A few more days passed and I had to go back to the supermarket for some more stuff, I swear I spend half my life there, when I realized I hadn't seen the spiky-haired one, lately.
    So I asked the friendly but not so cute tubby checkout guy where he was. Now this youngish, but not terribly bright fellow looked to his left, then to his right, then leaning across the counter as he slowly confided to me, "They wanted to fire him, because of his hair, but the union wouldn't let them because his hair is an expression of his h-o-m-o-sex-u-ality."
    "Quite right too," I said, working overtime to keep as straight a face as I could, "None of their business."
    "Yes," he said, "It shouldn't make a difference as long as he does his work."
    Today I learned the spiked hairdo has left for a job in another supermarket some miles away.
    I will miss getting my goods checked out by him.
    The supermarket management is badly in need of some humane conditioning.
    I hope my spiky-haired checkout guy is happier with his new job.
    I am sure his new employer will be satisfied with his work.
  12. DesDownunder
    Hi everyone,
    I finished this story a few weeks ago. Blue has since edited it for me and posted it in my hosted pages at Codey's World. It was supposed to be a contribution to the "Back to School" collection at Codey's World, but the computer crashed and had to be replaced, thus holding up the story's completion.
    With Codey being in such ill health I forgot I promised him I would put a notice here to let you all know about it.
    So I will rectify that now, here is the link:
    The Best Memories Of Their Lives
    My heart is not really in this story at the moment, but I thought it might take my mind off things if I prattle on a bit.
    This is a bit of a different story for me. It is not so much a comedy but has a kind of black humour about it.
    I have drawn from my real life experiences for many of the "memories" and then crazily mixed up the fiction with the real so that the incidents themselves are not as autobiographical as you might think, and yet some of them are.
    Perhaps you would like to guess:
    1. Which of these incidents in the story are not based on an actual experience?
    2. Which characters are pure fiction?
    If there is sufficient interest I will reveal all, some time down the track.

    All comments welcome (flames will be loved with much laughter).
    Come to think of it why do I never get flamed? I must try harder.
  13. DesDownunder
    I read Cato's entry at CW on his home being robbed and thought I would comment here rather than expose the horrid tale more publicly there.
    Violence warning: The following is a grisly tale which I have endeavoured to lighten. Yes I am on my soapbox in do-gooder mode. I would say bleeding heart mode, but as you will see it wasn't my heart that was bleeding.
    In January 1998, I opened my door to a knock and received a brick to the head for my trouble.
    With what little sense I had left I shut the door. The brick-layer was so upset that I had managed to lock him out that he started throwing anything he could find at the glass patio door in the hope of shattering the glass.
    I alerted the other half who was in bed watching a movie. I swear the Empire could strike back on our front lawn and he wouldn't hear it.
    I rushed back to the kitchen where the masonry expert was still trying to master his glass shattering skills and picked up the phone to call the police direct-line phone number.
    While the phone was ringing I could see drops of blood falling from my head on to the table in a most inelegant manner.
    Finally the phone was answered, "You have reached your police department, please hold, your call is important to us."
    I hung up and dialled the all service emergency number.
    I was connected to the police immediately and gave them the details and the address, just as the glass door finally shattered and the dreaded invaders (I could now tell there were at least four of them,) yelled out for me to give them all my drugs.
    "Drugs?" They want my vitamin pills? No wait a minute they think I take drugs. They wouldn't know I am allergic to the weed and that I am a control freak who hates losing self-control to some herb or chemical concoction of illicit origin. Gee, even the doctor has to threaten me with alternative punishments to get me to take prescription medicine.
    So I shouted back at them, "We don't have any."
    I grabbed my half-dressed, better half and ran out the door on the other side of our love-nest, we call our home, into the street.
    The police and the neighbours arrived along with an ambulance.
    One of the neighbours was holding ice to my head and I watched trickling icy blood run down her hand, my blood!
    One of my big butch heterosexual male neighbours went searching for the demolition crew. He was very concerned for his little gay mates as he calls us.
    As he was returning from his search I had to stop the police from drawing their guns on him, he truly looked an image of terminator proportions, lurching down street, baseball bat at the ready in his hands. When I explained who he was, one of the police officers said, "Just as well he didn't find them."
    I could hear the police and neighbours exchanging questions about how could these people, "these scum" do these things, about how difficult it was to stop the criminal element, when I heard myself exclaim, "You are asking the wrong questions. You should be asking how come we have developed a society where individuals attack others?"
    In other words, "the system is broke and needs fixing."
    The answers of deprivation, poor education, poverty, unemployment, social injustice and inequality of opportunity as a contribution to crime seems to be furthest from some people's minds.
    Yes, I know there are criminal cartels and drug addicted crazies out there who have abandoned any sense of right and wrong, but they would be less in number if our social structure ensured large portions of the population were not deprived of their basic human rights and self-esteem for the sake of profit that amounts to no more than "legitimate" business avarice.
    These are my thoughts on such matters only, I am sure you have yours.
    I vacate the soapbox.
    PS. I am okay and you can't see any scars because of my old age wrinkles.
  15. DesDownunder

    (49) Unwasted Youth

    By DesDownunder,

    Warning: Commercial Break:
    I posted a poem today in the Poetry Nook at Codey's World.
    It is called Unwasted Youth < click here
    Do let me know what you think.
    We now return you to the abnormal blog of DesDownUnder
    I'm still gay... and luvin' it.
  17. DesDownunder
    So my blog is 50 entries old. I never would have thought it possible.
    A Poet's Idiocy
    I was never enamoured with long-winded but truncated sentences that rhymed or not.
    Poetic pretentious philosophical ponderings in abbreviated form with obscure meanings of whatever is being described is not something I generally enjoy in poetry. (There are exceptions.)
    At our local poetry reading group,
    I must confess to being somewhat bored
    With descriptions of tangled clothes on the ironing board
    By one single word after another,
    Seemingly to state the obvious bother,
    Of ironing clothes simply to impress,
    Neighbours who could not care less.
    I have always preferred the narrative notions contained in story poems.
    But to get to the nitty gritty, it is Shakespeare, Ben Johnson, Tennyson, Taylor and their ilk that I liked as a student. I struggled with Homer's Odyssey and Shakespeare sounded nice but it took eons for me to comprehend the extraordinary richness in their work. Not a single word is unconnected to where he is taking his audience. Every poetic phrase is an insight into a human drama concealed in what almost seems to be infinite interpretation, yet is really just for holding the attention, for entertaining the audience. So simple. Yet by play's end we, the audience or readers, are more than when it started; it is cathartic, or at least it seems that way.
    The likes of Sophocles and Euripides reveal through the poetry of their plays, hidden psyches of the human being, masquerading as the imperfections of "The Gods" that would have to wait over 2000 years for Freud to begin our understanding of the depth of their statements and intuitions.
    The wandering minstrels of yore, told stories as they sang, as did that forerunner of the evening TV news, the "Town Crier." I wonder if they did commercials for the local traders? For example:
    "Hear ye, hear ye, The king fell off the throne today,
    And was assassinated by a masked woman,
    In pretence of being a man.
    She is described as looking a bit frumpy,
    Last seen dashing towards a village nearby.
    If thou hast any information regarding this woman,
    Please contact the Witch-hunt office at the olde butcher shop in High Street,
    Whence they will present a special on sausages all next week."

    Poetry is everywhere if you will but look and listen.
    "I think that I shall never see/ A poem lovely as a tree" is the first line of Joyce Kilmer's most famous poem, "Trees".
    Yet within every poem is a distillation of an idea
    Which may grow into a story of assorted love and fear.
    The poet is more than just a writer of rhymes,
    More than a chronicler who beautifies the times,
    The poet sings of what he sees, in words,
    So we will not kill them with our swords.
    The poet will reveal what we have left,
    By sharing the poetic life he has lived.
    When thoughts and feelings demand to be heard,
    Use of any old cliche seems absurd,
    For only a poet knows how to choose a word.
    Have no fear if you do not like poetry,
    All you scribes, with your tales of love and strife
    It's already in your ev'ry story,
    As you are living the poetic life.

  18. DesDownunder
    So here I contemplate the meanings of blogging.
    Dear Diary...
    Dear Journal...
    Dear Dairy...
    I'll keep that for if and when I ever get invited to a farm again.
    Dear personal log...
    What was the name of the Captain in Star Trek?
    I will tell you, it was Captain Slog,
    because every episode started with a voice saying, "This is Captain Slog."
    Now where was I? Oh Yes,
    Dear Desmond's Log...
    Uh Oh that sounds a bit rude, doesn't it, or am I just writing things into my log?
    I suppose if I were to write to my log, I could thank it for all the good times it has given me, or I could tell it off for all the times it let me down, or even for the embarrassments it has caused in public places.
    No, You guys wouldn't want read to my logging adventures. Would you?
    I could call it "Boy's Own Log," or "Logs Long Gone."
    But then again writing on my log could be somewhat painful, might raise up some hairy memories and I might have to divulge the bones of my past. Better to avoid that I think.
    Dear Wet Log...
    "Don't I mean Web Log?"
    NO! "I'm Bloggin' in the rain."
    Dear epistle to myself... too formal. Perhaps I could use it on Sundays and while I write, I could sing "Blog of Ages,' or something.
    Dear written record of my thoughts and ramblings...you gotta be kidding me.
    Dear personal thoughts' file, posted on a website for the rest of the world to look at.. Yeah, Right!
    I know!
    Dear Blog,
    I was going to write something but I have run out of time and anyway I've forgotten what I was going to say, and I doubt anyone would comment anyway, unless they want to, Please?
    Blogging is so much fun.

  19. DesDownunder
    Nothing happened yesterday.
    The weather has changed, summer has gone and you will all be relieved no doubt, to know that I have had to put clothes on to keep warm. No more typing naked at the keyboard till November at the earliest, unless we turn the heater up way too high.
    Daylight saving ended last weekend here in Adelaide, Australia and it is dark by 6 pm. Still we may yet have a few more sunny days of warmth before our Southern Winter hits.
    The above is merely an inane entry to make sure that I can still type whilst wearing clothes.
  20. DesDownunder
    April Fools has inspired me to write a foolish story.
    As Blue writes:
    "The Gay Prank"
    "~ Brad and Dale want to come out, though they feel a little foolish, and their parents' slip is showing. "
    Hope you all enjoy it.
    (A fool and his story are soon parted).
  21. DesDownunder
    It is that time of the year in Adelaide, where the sun sets
    in a glorious spray of vivid gold and red colours
    that fluoresce the clouds to match the source of their brilliance.
    In the East a near full moon, almost too bright to behold
    is already visible in the pale grey sky soon to be
    the dark blue and black of night.
    The air is still, not even a breath a wind.
    The sky hangs it palest blues before they change
    to green and pinkish yellows as the sun disappears.
    Clouds float and change their clothing for the approaching night.
    The night air, not cold nor hot wraps its warmth around me.
    Stars arc the Earth's night sky as if watching us, watching them.
    And it is all reversed in the early morning as that magic
    that was West is now in the East and dawn matches twilight
    with the eerie silence of the sun's intensity. The night fades to day.
    The stars I watched for hours I can no longer see,
    but I know they are there.
    We call this our Indian Summer.
    Is it any wonder I do not sleep?
  22. DesDownunder
    I've been tired and not feeling the best, mainly because the best keep well away from any one my age. Okay, that's not true. The best do come near me, but it is a curiosity thing with them, I think. They still won't let me feel them though.
    I could view my present frame of mind as feeling the worst, but that wouldn't really help either, as the worst won't let me feel them either.
    Maybe my mind is horny and is sick of waiting for my body to catch up to it.
    Yeah, I reckon that would explain a lot.
  23. DesDownunder
    It's Friday afternoon and I am picking up an old friend's ancient computer for which he no longer has any use. I will give it to a deserving family I know.
    At least I would if he was home. He is late. Twenty minutes late. So I am sitting in my car waiting, when I hear a door slam in the house next door.
    "Sorreeee," says a voice that I just know does not belong to an Australian outback construction worker.
    Sure enough, a young man in his early twenties appears wearing a shirt and shorts designed to show his decorator muscles he must have got for Christmas. At least I have something to look at whilst I wait.
    I immediately think that his name is probably Twinky-boy as he walks gently around the car parked in the driveway. As he turns around to get in the car I decide his name is probably Hot-bot.
    Anyway he started the car, one of those nice little 4-cylinder cars from the Far-east. Then he gets out of the car and walks up to the garage door which is one of those full-width roll-up type doors in a lovely shade of suburban beige. I watch Hot-bot as he reaches up to a ledge and takes down what is obviously a remote control.
    Now I have never had the money for such luxuries, but I am pretty sure this must be a remote control for the roll-up door. It wouldn't make a lot of sense for it to be the TV remote unless the door was particularly slow in rolling up. Then again it didn't make a lot of sense to keep the garage door remote outside where anyone could find it.
    Our hero gets back into the car and waves the remote at the door, which sure enough slowly, but not that slowly, begins its ascent into the garage ceiling space.
    When the door is half-way up, I watch as the car slowly moves forward towards the door. The bonnet of the car goes under the rising door and just when you would expect the young man to exert those delightful thigh muscles and apply the brakes, the car sped up and rammed the upper half of the now bent and stationary garage door.
    It was about now that I realised I was privileged to watch an actual urban legend occurring before my very eyes. Would I see a Darwin Award?
    The young man sat in the car with his mouth open. He seemed genuinely surprised that the door had been by hit the car. Possibly he was wondering why the car had been hit by the door.
    Slowly he backed the car away from the door, but the now hanging bottom bar of the door was caught on the front of the car just where the windscreen ends and the bonnet starts. He continued backing the car away and somehow managed to pull the roller door so it was bent in the other direction.
    The door tried to return to its previous instruction to roll up, but gave up after a another few feet, looking quite the worse for the ordeal. It looked a little like the Sydney Opera House sails would have looked if they had been made from roofing iron.
    The car bonnet seemed okay.
    Again I heard the door from inside the house slam and there suddenly appeared another young man of the tender twenty-something years wearing torn off jeans and a tight fitting T-shirt adorning his own decorator muscles. They must have bought a matching set, although this one might have paid extra for the super thighs version with golden tan.
    Twinky got out of the car and rushed up to the damaged door, touching it, caressing it as one would an injured animal. "Oh No!" he exclaimed.
    "How did that happen?" asked the other set of muscles.
    "I don't know. One moment the door was going up the next minute the door stopped as I was driving towards it," and with that he burst into tears.
    The other young man tenderly put his arms around his friend and patted his shoulder, "It's okay love, we will sort it out, come on."
    They reached up and grabbed the bottom of the bent door that was now about five feet off the ground.
    I watched as they twisted and pulled at the door. I tossed up whether I should try to help, but decided that as neither of them knew I was there and that I had forgotten to put on my own set of muscles before I left home, it was probably best for me to remain hidden in my car. Less embarrassing for us all, I thought.
    Then they gave me an insight in to their bedroom antics as they topped their previous contortions by grabbing the bottom of the door lifting their knees towards their chests and swung furiously like a pair of delicate chimpanzees.
    I placed my hands over my mouth and eyes, lest I should betray my presence with an audible sound from deep in my throat. Looking between my fingers I saw the miracle of the door slowly start to descend till it nearly reached the ground.
    "Stand back," said the torn off jeans clad super thighed one of the two, and with that he performed a flying Kung Fu leap that meant he probably worked as a stunt man. His foot landed in the middle of the dent in the door.
    He bounced off the now straightened door and fell to the ground. His friend rushed to his side, "Are you alright?"
    He knelt down and placed his friend's head in the folds of his lap, right on his very thin shorts.
    I was about to reach for my cell phone to ring emergency. Damn, I should have recorded this.
    His friend stirred and lifted his arm to pull his friends head down to him and they kissed in the drive-way.
    No, I am NOT making this up.
    For some reason I was almost expecting them to burst into song.
    "There's a place for us,
    A time and place for us...
    Somewhere..." *
    Slowly they picked themselves up off the ground and helped each other into their house. The door slammed behind them.
    A short time later my straight friend turned up. I asked if he knew the next door neighbours.
    He told me he thought they might be gay and that they were accident prone.
    "No shit!" said I.
    "Yes," he said, "they've only been there a week and last Tuesday one of them drove over the rubbish bin. I don't expect them to last the month out."
    "I don't know about that," I said, "They seem quite resourceful and very much in love."
    * Yes I know its West Side Story...again, but it did happen in an Adelaide Western Suburb.
    Edit: Tidying up the writing.
  24. DesDownunder
    Cole has provided some advice on making contact with the boys:
    I imagine the following might be the outcome of taking Cole's advice.
    "Oh Hi. I was just walking past your garage door when I thought you might be able to help me with my phone. I don't seem to be able to get the camera thingy working on the phone and wondered if you nice muscly boys have a clue?"
    "Ahh, yeah, sure Pops, we can help," said the twinkier one of the two.
    In less time than it takes to say "What nice thighs you have," I found myself the proud owner of the only mobile phone in existence to have a footprint on its surface from where it was kick-boxed into terminating its services. The blood will probably wash off, I am sure, but there are several broken thingamy-jigs and holes in the plastic case.
    Still the boys did serve nice cake and tea, when we got back from the emergency room where the Kung-Fu expert had to have several small transistors and printed circuit board pieces removed from his foot under a local anesthetic. His friend held his hand throughout the procedure. The surgeon wasn't going to let him, until they showed him the medical power of attorney they held in each others names.
    I did think they went a bit far when they kissed and shouted "Hooray" every time the surgeon removed another bit of plastic from his foot.
    I tried to pay for the emergency room but they said they were completely covered medically as a condition that their parents had insisted on when they told them they were going to live together.
    It seems that their parents were hoping for grandchildren and didn't want them to have any unexpected hospital bills.
    Feeling somewhat defeated and quite phoneless, I decided to drive home. The boys with their arms around each other waved me farewell, while the sunset over suburbia in a blaze of innocence not seen since before apple trees grew in Eden.
    Unlike the previous entry this one is based loosely on fictitious thoughts inspired by Cole's above advice.

  25. DesDownunder

    58 Hello?

    By DesDownunder,

    So I have three days where I have to get up early...at 9am
    Okay so for most people that is not all that early, but after a lifetime of going to bed as the sun comes,
    9 am for me, is like the middle of everyone else's night.
    I am tired, very tired. It is 3.35 pm and I have just got home. I look longingly at the reason for existence
    but decide to leave the computer off and go to bed for some sleep.
    4.14 pm. Ring-ring, ring-ring. ring-ring, ring-ring, ring-ring, I pick up the phone,
    Me: "Yo!"
    silence...
    Oh No...
    Just as I am about to hang-up a voice says: How are you doing?
    Me: How am I doing, what?
    Voice: pardon?
    Me: You asked me how I am doing, but you didn't say what it was you wanted to know I was doing.
    Voice: Doing?
    Me: You must say what the doing is. I can't guess. Do you want to know how well I am doing the gardening?
    Or do you want to know how well I do the dishes?
    Or how well I do the naughty. I can tell you, I don't get too many complaints.
    I don't do the garden, by the way.
    Voice: I being polite.
    Me: Hello Polite, I being Des.
    Polite: No I am Shiram, being polite:
    Me: How nice. I am Des being annoyed.
    Polite now being Shiram: I knowing English.
    Me: Who told you that?
    Shiram: I did learning at school. I speak English. How are you doing?
    Me: How am I doing, what?
    Shiram: I don't understand.
    Me: Admitting you don't understand is the first step to wisdom.
    Shiram: This is not going right.
    Me: No I suppose it isn't.
    Shiram: I am having speech to say.
    Me: Why is someone getting married?
    Shiram: I am not married.
    Me: you're not? Then who is getting married?
    Shiram: Why is anyone marrying?
    Me: That's what I say too. See I told you, you would get wisdom, all from just admitting you don't understand.
    Shiram; Don't understand what?
    Me: That I don't like being woken up by phone calls.
    Shiram: Are you sleeping?
    Me: Not at the moment.
    Shiram: I am confused.
    Me: I am tired.
    Shiram: I am tiring too.
    Me: We should go to bed.
    CLICK!
    Okay so we never got past the "Yo"
    but I can fantasize a little can't I?

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