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This year was the best year yet. My daughter was born on September 19th at 1 am. Her name is Mao.
First Bath

Sound Asleep

Big Foot

All you need is this...

and this...

"What you lookin at?"

Snow Angel

Up Above


Goodnight

This Year Was Lacking in Color

The fact that I am only now sitting down to reflect on my day, nearly two weeks later, is a testament to how busy my life has become! The 21^st was a Monday very much like most of my Mondays, except for the pleasant, periodic reminder that many of my friends and loved ones, separated by copious amounts of time and space, were connected in the littlest of ways…

Documenting the majority of my day would breach the confidentiality of the clients I encounter, so you will see the few moments that were actually ALL MINE.

It was a colorless day, but not in a bad way…

Grateful for a hint of color...

Home again...

My day ended watching Conan O'Brien deep fry Spiderman!

Enjoyment Found In Passage of Time

Bhanda, or Rising Upward

Sometimes I'm Afraid I'll Forget

My 9-21-9

The accounts of my 9-21-9

I woke up a little chilled but glad to see my black and white animal friend on the foot of my bed. A slumbering feline furball. I grabbed my blue and gray ployester bathrobe and my camo cane and headed to the shower. I remember feeling woozy and light headed as I bathed. When I got out I sat down and asked my feline partner in crime how he was doing and took my pills. I sent my friend a text replying to his wich I missed while I was in teh shower. We agreed to play a game online together dayz before. I got dressed and put my headset on. Logged into X-Box Live as "Enoram" an alias I have used before. We had fun running through razor hail and trying to avoid the masses of aliens that were trying to take our heads off in a train depot. We made it past their forces and then proceded to operate a tank together. He was driving and I was manning a huge cannon clearing the way through an icey forest with yet again more evil chud chompers trying to decapitate us. We struggled getting across this frozen lake a few times but we eventually made it and headed into some caves. Yvonne my caretaker showed up during play and my buddy Luke had to go to work so I said my goodbyez and got ready to make breakfast with Yvonne.

We made a killer ham and cheese omlette together with onions,brocoli,tomatoes,potatoes,and oregano. We shared some stories about our past and had a few laughs. I cracked open my favourite non-alcoholic beer and ate my breakfast. It was very tasty and we were happy with the way it came out. I remember telling Yvonne during cooking breakfast that I was so glad the doctor had not called about my bloodwork I had gotten done previously. My mother walked in and informed me that the doctor had called while I was playing with my friend and that my blood had came back low again. This did not make me too happy because it means I have to get more bloodwork done later this week and I am very prone to infections and illness. That put a hold on my plans to go up in a hot air ballon and take pictures this week. It would have to wait. I was feeling more faint than usual and now I knew why.

I decided to check my e-mail and facebook accounts next. I saw the September 21st invites and I clicked on it not knowing I would have to set up an account. I got through all the forms and registered on here. The photoplay "Coneheads" was playing on the brainwashingmachine. I had not seen that photoplay in a long time and I forgot the old chubby laugh-o-maker Cris Farley was in it. He was a really funny man. I checked my e-mails and replied to a few friends. Reading some good news and some bad. It was nice to get my mind off the blood for a little while.

Yvonne helped me with some medical applications regarding my illness (I have a disease called multiple sclerosis) and then she went home to go let her son have it who had been caught skipping school. Oh I recalled the days when I was 16. It was so much fun back then. Not too many things could slow me down in those days. I got back on the gamingstation and went to war. I was in a bad mood about the blood and so I shed me some blood of the polygonal kind. Laid out some heavy artilery and just mowed down a few opponents in a very tactical fashion. I finished up my mission just in time to watch one of my favourite teleplays on the brainwashingmachine. It was about superheroes of different cultures trying to come to terms with new changes in their lives. It was nice to sit with the family and enjoy watching the teleplay together. When it was over I got back on the gamingstation yet again and played a game where I have control of several different superpowers and characters. I like to do that. To watch something and then live it through if I can right afterwerds. I enjoy having theme days and theme parties as well. I then ate some fish stiskcs Yvonee had made in the oven earlier. They were nice and not too overcooked. I took mid-day pills as well.

After that I took a break and read some of an Iron Man comic book. Tony Stark has erased his memory so people will not try and retrieve information and government secrets from him. It's a pretty good series and I am liking the artwork. I spent some time doing physical therapy. I did a few stretches,flexes,and exercises to try and please my therapist then I called my friend the great Dr. Wade. We chatted about his trip to Hawaii and about photography. I informed him about the bloodwork. He was a little bummed because he knows how much I hate having the bloodwork done. We were grateful that I do not have any other conditions at this time. I had to take a little rest after the physical therapy. Sadly this is where I leave you because when I woke up it was no longer September 21st. I enjoyed being a part of this project. I wish you all the best , _joel B.

Tainted Love

Since I lost two people I truly loved in my life, one suicide and one divorced, I became so bad at crying. My eyes are always watering, and tears coming down even in the most inappropriate situations like the time I'm cueing up for ATM or eating donuts. I mean, surely everything connected to the memory of everyday life but ATM and pink sugar coated donuts have no sentimental value to me, as far as I concerned. Sometime I make people surprise, because I don't look sad at all but I cry.

And I know what it causes.

It causes the memory of rejected love.

My September started in Paris and I met a boy, he was so nice to me when I bursted in tears in the museum filled with dead animals. We went out on a date in Paris, we walked around hands in hands, and took a nap in the park. It was one of the most beautiful moments I've ever experienced. I actually thanked god for that.

And he is now in Tokyo; so I went to see him on 21st of September.

We tried,

as healthy and young thirty-somethings, we tried physically and mentally.

And it didn't work.

It was so obvious that we are not that into each other.

Now my heart aches and again the memory of rejected love is all coming back, despite the fact that anything harmful is not yet happened.

I just don't want to get hurt.

My 21st of September was the day that I realized that I am too afraid of falling in love.

I still feel lost but I guess I keep going,

so

don't worry.

Driving the neighborhood.

Those were CD(R) I listened to in the car.



Nakagawa park (Katsusika-ku), one of the biggest park in my neighborhood.

I took lunch there.

I listend to Radioheads' 'Airbag'.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oo3ZnHJ0KTQ

I was cruising around Misato area (Saitama).

I am sorry to make you feel like dying because of boring, boring pictures.

I was listening to Steely Dan's album 'Aja' again and again while seeing those landscapes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFKSyP5pNE0

Mizumoto Park, you can enjoy camping in the great nature there.

Came back to Nakagawa park. I was happy seeing nice people in the end of the day.

21st September 2009 - A brief history in the present tense...

I wake up tired.

A disturbingly familiar way to start most days in my recent past and most probably the distant future. My body hurts. My head hurts too. I think about going to back to sleep and not worrying. But then I remember that its exactly how the downward spiral starts. First not going to work, then eating out of a bin. Extremes maybe, but sometimes it’s what I need to bring myself to attention. I feel like terrible. Just like Elliott Smith. His lyrics spring to mind; “I always feel like shit, I don’t know why I guess that I just do”. But he stabbed himself in a recording studio. I have no plan to do that. Recording studios are sacred.

I find clothes in my room. A three or so meter by three or so meter box filled with clothes, guitars, computers, wires, and other redundant paraphernalia. I grab the necessities and head to the shower. When I return my room is the same. I always seem to find that strange. I don’t know why. Sometimes I wish it would just change, or not be there at all. Wouldn’t that be refreshing?

I’m wearing Rivers boot cut blue jeans, a plain black FCUK T-shirt and Redback steel cap boots (no laces of course). I have my 2Gb apple Ipod filled with randomness. I put my Koss headphones on and walk out my front door. I need to unlock 2 doors before I reach the outside world. I believe this to be a fire hazard. On the way I stop at a coffee shop that doesn’t yet have a name. I flirt with a young Moroccan girl who is currently studying at the university of Sydney. She is wearing a “Grateful Dead” T-shirt. I tell her that I think the grateful dead are amazing. She quickly replies that she agrees. She then adds that the lack of clouds make her happy and that sunny days are the best. I smile. “Fair enough” is the only thing I can manage. As I’m walking out with my large cappuccino to go with one sugar, she yells out goodbye. Again I smile and again add “fair enough”.

I get on the train and immediately set my Ipod for Jay Z and Linkin Park. I listen to 3 songs, which I wont list, and then I randomize. “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin starts up. A fittingly somber middle to the start of my day. Then Zero 7 and Jose Gonzales do “Left Behind”. I’m on the verge of a breakdown when I finally hear “Berlin Chair” by You Am I. This perks me up to no end. “Without You” by Silverchair follows. The timpani's (or what sound like timpani's) at the beginning put me in a mood suitable for work. I don’t get to finish listening to it however. I change trains.

I meet a friend from work at the interim station and we exchange the standard pre-work sentiments. This mainly consists of an initial greeting; one of us will say “another day” and the other will finish “yeah, another dollar”, to which the first will reply “yeah, but never enough”. Then we start to complain about everything from weather, to work, to women, to the news, and occasionally digress to stories barely believable about Bondi in the 70s and 80s.

I’m on the edge of a second breakdown for the morning after ten minutes of said banter. We get off the train and walk past the horse track to work. Sometimes someone will pick us up on the way sometimes not. Sometimes its freezing cold and sometimes not. Sometimes I chew gum and sometimes not. Today is all “not's”.

I arrive at work. Today is Monday and I apologize for not being at work the previous Friday – I had called in sick. He asks me if I’m ok. I say “not really, but I’m here”. I give him an update on work I’m currently involved in that he neither has a stake in nor cares for. He seems impressed that I keep the talk to a minimum realizing that I know how he feels about the situation. He says “good work” as I leave. Small victories.

I walk over to my desk and grab a purple speckled coffee cup. Its as clean as it is ugly. I’m relieved. I take it to the lunch room and make myself a rather ordinary instant coffee. On the plus side the milk is good. A person from work comes in and asks me a question. I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t hear the question. “I don’t know” I said, “but try one of the people downstairs, they usually know about those kinds of things”. He looked at me strangely, grabbed an iced vo-vo biscuit and left the room.

I walk back to my desk. I have no time to drink my coffee. Its too hot and its not very good anyway. I attach the safety gloves to the belt loop on the back right hand side of my jeans. I put on my high visibility vest, grab my digital camera, hand cover notepad, hard hat and safety glasses and begin the five or so minute trek through the car park to the cement wall factory. I pass a total of two factory workers on the way. I don’t acknowledge them, and they me. No harm done. I pass the ear plug dispenser. I twist it twice and three come out. I’m disgusted. I feel like technology should have caught up this much by now. Apparently not though.

I insert the earplugs and make my way through stacks of cement sheets three tall people high with timber gluts in between half meter sections. The lighting is bright. I think about the Beatles. I doubt that Paul McCartney ever worked in a factory. Happiness is indeed a warm gun. That very thought and the poetry and the rest of the Beatles back catalogue calm me for a brief moment.  I reach my destination.

I’m looking at a broken down machine. It’s stopped and nobody knows why. I ask an operator a few questions. I ask what happened and what he did. I knew what was wrong but I thought it more interesting to see how long it would take them to figure it out. I think about the Rolling stones. No sympathy for the devil. None indeed, and certainly none here today, not from me anyway. Ungrateful bastards.

After fifteen minutes and a possible monetary loss of a number of thousands, I decide to ask the right questions in order to facilitate a quick fix – a mechanical band aid if you will. I am in fact a mechanical doctor, or rather an intern in a farm of geriatric mechanical devices. I take notes and photos about and of the situation. I’m comfortable with the outcome. The cement sheets roll down the line like rigid waves. Over. And over again.

The next 3 hours are monotonous. They take me through to lunchtime. I walk over to the work café and order a ham and salad sandwich. As they are notorious for making the sandwiches plagued by elephantitus I ask for minimal portions of all involved. She asks if I want butter and I say that I do however I reiterate that less is more. To my surprise she takes a big chunk I of what I believe to be margarine and heaps it on one of the two pieces of bread. I am perplexed. She puts the pickles on first, then ham (What?) then cheese, tomato, salt, pepper and lettuce. The general order of the sandwiches creation upsets me to no end. I don’t know if I can even eat it. I’m hungry though so I take it – and a bottle of Pepsi too.

The sandwich is as predicted, average – reminiscent of a pizza when the ingredients are right but added at the wrong time. However I’m in a good mood now. The lunchtime table tennis challenge is on. I play the top player one on one. He wins 21-15. A loss of epic proportions. I’m improving. I team up with said player, and though I'm usually considered a “handicap” today the words “on fire” are heard echoing through the halls and corridors of the office.

I finish up with a 3-1 win loss scorecard for the day. My happiness is cut short by the realization that I must now return back to work. I call a company to make sure they ships some parts I have ordered. I think her name is Terri, though she assures me it was Kerri. Whatever. The parts would arrive on time. I walk back down to the machine and nothing is happening. The next three and half hours drag. Slowly. As a troubleshooter, lack of trouble seems to equal boredom.

I get a message on my phone. I am to meet a friend for Vietnamese. This doesn’t excite me very much as all the Vietnamese I have eaten in Sydney to date has tasted rather average. Though as always, I am hopeful of not being disappointed. Glass half full right?

I leave work and get back to the city (I live there) at around 5:30. I am early. I wait at a bar on Gouldbourn Street. I think about Nick Cave. What does it mean to have a “red right hand” anyway? I wonder what it would be like to do a duet with Kylie Minogue and have your own festival.

My friend arrives. She expresses her love for VB. It takes all the self control I have not to get and leave at that moment. I tell her for a person of unquestionable taste she has done something not many can do, and actually surprised me. Though disgusted, I am still excited. She tells me I am like everyone else who hates it. I explain that a million people can never be wrong. This is not something I agree with and I know that in the future it will more than likely be used against me.

After two schooners of James Squire Golden Ale, we relocate to a Vietnamese place on George Street. We order Pho, which is apparently pronounced “Fur”. I make a rather lame joke about telling my friends I ate fur for dinner. To my surprise she laughs. Probably pity.

After the absolutely impressive Vietnamese we walk back towards Town Hall. We pass a Japanese sweets shop and eat green tea flavored frozen yogurt, and talk about Metalocalypse. She begins to tell me about black metal bands and how much she loves Metalocalypse. I mention that I have never even met a girl who had seen it let alone enjoyed it. Rare.

We walk back to the station. I get on a train. I see my friends brother. He asks me what I'm doing. I tell him I’m going home. It seems we are both doing the same thing, though in different directions. He needs to change.

I get home and remove the day before setting my alarm and lying in bed. I think about how things could be so much better. Then I think about how things could be so much worse. Then I get depressed.

Because I know, tomorrow, I will wake up tired.

hard times

this has been a difficult and wonderful year. lots of work, lots of moving,marraige death, ect.

me and ash are about to embark on a few months of travel. we will visit montreal, NYC, singapore, s.e. asia, and will hopefully hit tokyo on our return trip.

sorry this is a lame posting, i will add more later.

bon voyage!