Smells like goat

Where to begin. Ape and I have been having it a bit rough. No not having it, but at it. My mother is very bad for my health. I know this is the typical time for me to resent her, I'll love her when I'm older blah .. but every influence she's had on me has been negative and there really isn't much of a bias in that conclusion. Be that as it may, I can't just walk away.. some bizarre sense of duty and loyalty keeps me here begging for more abuse. Ape, being the heavy foreheaded creature that he is, is having none of it and wants me out now. Thing is Ferdinand is a gem, and although I wish he defended me against my mother, his intentions have been genuine. So I need to ship out and I have no idea how I'll orchestrate that. Picking up and moving to the UK isn't quite an option just yet, and even moving out is going to throw future financial plans into a tizzy. Renting a shoebox in Manhattan for $2600 is just not an option. Well it is but not worth considering. Rather pay a mortgage.. but I digress. Point is, Ape and I should be allright but I have to be stronger towards my mother for my own good. Now how to do that I don't know.

Completely different note, summer is shaping up quite nicely. Amazing how nice it is not to be a lazy sloth once in awhile. Spent the weekend in the city with good friends.. there really is no substitute. I go MiA for months at a time, can't be arsed to contact anyone but they still come to drag me out of the woodwork and we stay up until morning being aimless and chatting. And then when I want to sleep, they sit and play Wish You Were Here. That's love.

My anti social behaviour weeds out the chinks in the chain, can't tell you how many people have dismissed me out for not returning emails and not phoning them when they were abroad in New Zealand. Good riddance, I say. I'm not one for formalities, I don't ask how things are going unless I am genuinely interested. What is it about doing something for the sake of doing it? You can see that logic applying to skydiving, but friendship isn't for the sake of friendship. It's the connection that keeps us coming back to each other. What did Aristotle say about a man who is good for the sake of good? I don't remember, freshman Humanities was a long time ago. Feel free to enlighten me. Hopefully it follows my point. It just is, and when it is, it's beautiful.

Met these two when I was working in Islamabad. They made me laugh there and make me laugh now. Yasmine, complete with stunning blue eyes, is just like me only better looking. She's staying in Manhattan with her brother for the summer.. doing a Master's in Architecture and Urban Planning. When I was five years old I wanted to be an architect and I have no idea why I never did it. But I can live vicariously through her. Milton is just brilliant. He talks and talks and talks and talks and you just have to stop responding for him to shut up. The most astute, generous, charming and sincere person you'll ever meet, with an adorable baby face to boot. He's been married for two years though I have not yet met his wife. He was married shortly after I left Isloo, and then they both came to Boston and froze their arses off. She went to do her medical residency in the sticks of Illinois, and he, after completing his Master's in Public Health from none other than Harvard on a Presidential Scholarshp, is now consulting in a field completely unrelated. I have to brag about them because they're fantastic people and I miss Milton now that he's returned to this rented bedroom in Brighton. I see Yasmine almost everyday for lunch in the park. This was a meandering post, but so grateful for the amazing people in my life. What a cheese.

Wacko

So Wacko is off the hook. Might as well be. I haven't followed it, don't particularly care. Don't really know what the story is but I guess one never does. I must say, though that I've caught a glimpse of the enigma that is wacko jacko in none other than the beatiful City of Exeter. Is Exeter a city or a town? Anyhow, I glanced over at a passing limo with the rear window cracked only to find a video camera looking back at me and upon closer inspection, I saw non other than that famous ashen face with the unnatural nose. I knew he was in town doing something or other with Uri Geller, but never expected to see him. Only problem is that he has me on tape in a place I have never officially visited. I was in Spain for that summer, supposedly. In fact, I snuck over to the British Isles for some quality time with the ape unbeknownst to my trusting parents. And none other than wacko is in possession of the tape that can ruin my good name.

Summer is such a brilliant time of year. I always extol the distinct various seasons we experience here: bitter cold winters, blooming springtime, searing summers and lovely autumn colours. That said, summertime is where it's at. Of course I'll moan about the 87% humidity and not feel comfortable even after I've showered twice a day but there is this feeling of revival and life when walking in the heat of the sun. There is no substitute for summer evenings, hands down the happiest moments of my life. I remember my last days at university when the magnificent Mira and I sat on the roof of my brownstone and discussed the meaning of life and what to have for dinner. That soothing blue glow that settles as the sun does, cooling the air and calming the nerves. In Sydney, I'd sit on my little balcony with the handomest Staffie you've ever seen resting his head on my toes while I read Tony Hawks' Playing the Moldovans at Tennis. I've decided I'm going to be spending June through September in the Northern Hemisphere and the rest of the time way down south. There is nothing like a Southern Hemisphere summer. I was made for the tropics, there is something so invigorating in the rich colours that come alive in the sunlight and the warmth of the evenings that is lost in the deciduous forests of the North East. Anyhow, I'm in a rare mood, hopefully this sticks.

golf therapy

You just have to swing it. Stop thinking about it, you don't need to guide it. All you need to do is be aware of the weight shift from your right to your left, let everything else be loose. Everything else will follow. Okay, now what went wrong there was that you held on too long. You tried to hit it. Now just let it go, don't focus on it, all that matters is the next ball. When Tiger hits it in the woods, he doesn't get upset, he just thinks about his next shot and that's how he gets onto the green. Now get yourself out of the woods, all you need is one shot.

That's all there is to it. See, if I tell you to picture a lemon and then I tell you to forget about it, there is no way you're going to get the lemon out of your head. The second you think about something else is when you'll forget. I want you to think of lemons when you're trying to hit this ball. It's not about hitting the perfect shot. Well it is, but you can't be obsessed with the perfect shot. It's better for your game if you focus on minimizing your mistakes. But then again, you can't be focusing on your mistakes. It's not so technical. When you finish today and I ask you how you did, you're going to tell me everything you did wrong. I can't wait for the day you tell me about the great shots, the errors you were able to correct with the next shot.

Now, just get into a routine. Take two practice swings everytime, feel the shift. Forget about your arms and your hands, they'll get to where they need to be. Just swing it. Right to left. Once you establish the consistency of a routine you can't go wrong. Just swing it.

Now see, what a beauty! Why do you look so surprised?

That's not surprise, that's shock.

Yeh, that's the beauty of it. After 50 years, I still get surprised.

I'll get bored without the surprise.

The Emperor's New Clothes

Excuse me, Netflix, but since when is Pulp Fiction an independent film? Quentin Tarantino is the most overrated director around. His movies are like the emperor's new clothes. There is nothing there but a whole lot of yelling, guns and Uma Thurman in spandex. Yet he has a following, these overt theater types who see meaning in the crap he spews forth, as if he actually has a message behind the anime and swordfights. He is a quack, get on with it. What is wrong with these smelly hippies thinking they're above and beyond normality, everything they do has to be from far left otherwise its not authentic. Freaking hippies.