Tuesday, April 21, 2009

THE GLOVE-BOX

Every car's got one, big or small
located in the dash, it's a repository
maps, rego, pens, tissues, cutlery, tablets
and a curious collection of cards funerary

We were looking for a map of Queensland
to check out a campsite at O'Reillys
as Paul trawled through the box she found 
cards about Dad, David Pate and Bobby's ...

Mass or service hymnals going back to 2004
we'd put in the glove-box with the intention
of removing it later (but it's easy to forget)
because of one's poor memory retention

They mount up this collection of people's passing
always in a place close to you sans keys or locks
to occasionally remind you of death or life
and that we'll all end up in someone's glove-box

Friday, April 17, 2009

GEE-KIDDIES .... I LOVE 'EM BOTH

These two young tackers, Ro and Ty
captivate me with their presence
a bit like chalk and cheese they seem
their different stature being that very essence

One's big and shy when he first meets you
(You know who I'm talking about)
the other's lithe and laid-back
doesn't like being wakened or put out

I think Roie likes me... after he's warmed up a bit
occasionally he'll bring me his shoes to go for a walk
we'll set off for the bush at the end of the street
the dog's in tow, he's too busy looking around to talk

Ty doesn't roar like Ro or make loud noises
(I haven't heard him do so .... yet)
I'm told he has his moments like every baby has
just biding his time I'll bet

I look forward to seeing these young fellers
they're the fruit-bowl of my prideful eye
time spent with gee-kids are never dull
I'm hoping they think the same way about me by and by ...

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

THAT MIND-NUMBING, INSANE, INANE, MIND-GAME

Facebook .. on the face of it another great communication tool. Initially latched onto by the young as all fads inevitably are, osmosis-like it sinks its insidious hooks into the concupiscent not-so-young, there to remain long after it has ceased to be a fad for the young ... who have embraced the next fad that emanated from the febrile, mercantile imagination of another shrewd entrepreneur. Get off your apolaustic appaloosa I hear you say?

Let's face it. Facebook (FB) is a thief of time, up there with the maestro of thieves of time ... TV. Call me a recalcitrant Luddite or a boring old fluff for I've only heard of this latest scourge from others and seen it but once, only to wonder in wonder that one can "friend" somebody, anybody based on a real or perceived affinity. FB's yet another site to share your most intimate or inane thoughts or photos or menus or disorders or bodily functions with other facetoids who have nothing much to do like you. Perhaps to be embarrassed later on by Face-disclosures by disgruntled Face-totalisators?

Face it fair and square for within days of your Facebirth, you will have generated perhaps hundreds of Facefriends with facefaces. Like porn, you get to figuratively take off your identity and abase yourself in public, a public that's increasingly inured to debasement of oneself or others. There's the horrible stories of the bloke instead of cleaving to his wife for life actually cleaving his wife to death for changing her FB status to single or anorexics showing each other new ways to purge themselves or young thugs gate-crashing .... you get the picture? You don't? Just get on FB and it's revealed in all it's horrible vacuity.

To face it mildly, FB brings out the voyeur in us. It's like a reality-show star's unquenchable thirst for revealing every detail of their life in minutia, no matter how unexceptionally boring, excruciating or stultifying. On FB, you are convinced that everything you do in life must be inherently and absorbingly interesting enough to alert every faceghoul to its importance.

Updates are the go ... Symantha is cooking cookies, Jaidon is going to footy practice this arvo, Kylah-Leaeane is glad its the weekend, Braith is going to raid the icebox and Rybekkah ... is gonna do a great doo-do rightaway. You get my drift ..... 

Having been exposed to the wonderful world of FB aka Fu^%$%^ Bull$&*^, I'll get back to the other world of email that's mostly devoid of pretenders or poseurs. I prefer to trade insults or stories on the basis that I (generally) know the recipients and accept their reciprocation in good humour.