Did you hear the one about S. Gregory?

Went to the rodeo today. I saw the cowgirls lined up on the fence. No, not really, just listening to ‘Harvest Moon’ (album) and they are some lyrics from it. I’d really much rather be here listening to beautiful acoustical sonics from the lovably daggy, Muppet-voiced Neil Young than at a rodeo, actually. I don’t even know for sure what a rodeo is. Is it where people ride bulls that wish not to be ridden and try not to get knocked off the bulls and whomever stays on a bull for the longest wins a trophy? Anyway, all the dust raised would get into my CD player or if I had an iPod.

I’ve had a fairly unproductive time this week due to depression. My last few posts fairly reflect my ignoble state of mind. Suffice to say that I am feeling okay at the moment, thankfully. Hope, hope, will I always live merely in hope? But let’s not dwell on that – it’s depressing. Also, it is boring.

But what IS boredom? One person’s thrill is often another person’s tedium. I’m going to brew up a cup of Irish Breakfast tea. (Seriously, I really did feel like one before I thought up that boredom question.) (Lovable dag?)

Last Tuesday, I procured a copy of ‘The Ingenious Hidalgo, Don Quixote de la Mancha’. The reason why the title is only partly translated into English is because ‘Penguin Books’ wanted to be a little pretentious but not a lot. This suits me because I only want to be a little pretentious and not a lot. I’ll only loudly pontificate about how superior my taste in literature is at HALF as many cafés as I would reading any other great classical tome while slurppping my semi-caff wheat-germ officially-licensed designed-in-Sweden/ made-in-out-the-back-amongst-the-saliva-drenched-dishes latté.

Seriously, though, this recent new-translation (already revised for this 2003 edition) by John Rutherford seems excellent. Apparently, whereas it had often been translated into English as a sombre tragedy which the author never intended it to be, Rutherford turns ‘Don Quixote’ back into the often hilarious tragicomic book it is in Cervantes’ original Spanish. That is why I have chosen this translation to read, and read it soon I shall begin to. (…and he gallantly and unpretentiously ends his sentence upon a supposition!)

I am currently reading ‘The Sun Also Rises’ by Ernest Hemingway. It’s a smart-assy kind of book but simple (not simplistic), and apparently quite revolutionary back in 1926 in its prose style. So far along, Ernest is seemingly being coy about the lead male World War I veteran character’s missing genitals. Was this just produce of the prudishness of the times?

Am also finishing reading 1933’s ‘The Private Life Of Charlie Chaplin’ by Caryle T. Robinson, Chaplin’s press representative from 1917 –1932. Interesting piece about the great man’s love-affairs but not enough descriptive hardcore fucking action. I mean, for ME, that is – Shantoozy’s asleep and that’s why I have to read books, hee-hee.

If only I could obtain some of that home-porn that Chaplin supposedly made. I’m serious, I would love to see that stuff. I think that, deep down, any fan would like to sneak a dirty peek, even the most conservative or prudish. I wonder if any of the footage features his third wife, Paulette, the sexiest screen star of her era, in my opinion...

Black Comedy

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh. You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum. Your best movie matches: Being John Malkovich, The Royal Tenenbaums, American Psycho

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Well, that's just great, isn't it!

Chemical Sanding-Planes

Why am I so dizzy? Is it due to the ‘Coke Zero’ rubbish I am drinking? Or is it due to those fucked-up ‘Restavit’ sleeping tablets I took two nights ago? They didn’t help me to sleep until the next day when I found I barely had the energy to breathe. On the night, they mainly just spotlighted all my bodily aches and pains and helped my mind win a violent race against nothing. Chemical sanding-planes. Where’s the poetry in it all, I asks yo'?

Arrr-ararararrr-ararararrrrrrr! Kuthunk!!! *Ow*

I just took this revelational quiz (at Darkneuro's precept) and the mystical outcome shows that the movie I belong in is...

Tarzan!


What movie Do you Belong in?(many different outcomes!)
brought to you by Quizilla
The still displayed shows my physique in a uniquely positive light, I think, for I am more your Elmo Lincoln interpretation than your Johnny Weissmuller, I'm afraid.

Another Bloody Post By That Idyller Idjit

I’m feeling good today. I was feeling terrible yesterday. I’m more hopeful today. Yesterday was one of those days when you (or I, at least) feel you will never feel happy ever again and the only thing you have to look forward to is death, which isn’t really much of an exciting thing to look forward to, not knowing, as we do, what it shall behold and whether or not it will be anything particularly gratifying and fun for you (or I, at least). Anyhow, that down patch is over – at least, for the moment. I don’t mean that pessimistically but I just ain’t countin’ no downy hatchlings yet, however 'over easily' things may seem to be.

Today, I was going to trundle off to Richmond on the other side of the river to purchase a copy of ‘Don Keyoatty’ by Savanties for a mere $3.00!!! (The spelling, incidentally, is Shantoozy’s, used here in honour of the endearing dyslexic interpretations so often expectable of this ‘philosophic bad speller’!) But I was so tired this afternoon and had lunch/breakfast with Rupert, Hissy Kitty and Shantoozy instead, and so I shall procure the book tomorrow. It ranks high on my to-read list.

I enrolled in university a couple of weeks back. Don’t know when it starts, precisely; I’m sure I have it printed somewhere around this papery interior I employ as hobbit-hole dwellings. Am going to La Trobe University, where they may be surprised at the discrepancy between calling me a ‘mature age’ student and the way I plan to act around the young first-year female students – growwlll! Doing a Bachelor of Creative Arts (theatre, writing, acting, English literature.) Most of the credit I accrued many years ago for Bachelor of Arts in the Humanities at Griffith University in Queensland is being counted towards this course so I've automatically nearly finished my first year here, which is splendid news, mi hearties – it’s getting late and I haven’t even finished the first year of a first degree, so I need to speed things up wherever I can afford to, and first-year subjects are rarely as interesting as the later years’. Rupert the muffboxer is actually starting the same degree this year! With our artistic interests being so generally similar, it seemed an obvious manoeuvre, although some of the subjects we take will differ in accordance with a divergence of certain specific tastes and what we want to gain from the course. I am looking forward to it.

And regarding that lost post of mine, Dame(?) Blogger Support has informed …well, ME, I suppose …this time there was no ‘Hi’ or greeting of any sort …that unfortunately, they (this ‘Blogger Support’ fellow must be really big!) are unable to recover any posts that were lost during the outages. “Your post will be exterminated! Resistance is futile!”

Ooh, Such A Bitch!

Well, I seem to have lost my previous post. It was called, ‘Small Talk’, and fortunately was short and not all that interesting. A couple of comments got lost, too. This is the message I deployed to Blogger Support:

‘Hi. I was just wondering if I (at www.idyller.blogspot.com) could please have my latest post back now? You know, the one called, 'Small Talk'. I don't know why you would want to take it and keep it just for yourself anyway. It really isn't all that interesting - I have written better ones. You could have taken 'Wild Colonial Boys', for example - that was a pretty good one, I thought. Anyhow, if I see that you are auctioning it off on eBay I will be most displeased. Especially if I get outbid. Sincerely, S. Gregory.’

They wrote back, informing some generic ‘Hi there’ character that they ‘had a number of unplanned outages over the weekend, resulting in various problems accessing Blogger and BlogSpot, as well as publishing blogs,’ etc. Coincidentally, however, that information was mildly relevant to me, as well as, I assume, to this mysterious ‘Hi there’ fellow.

Of course, yes, I do understand that accidental fuck-ups occur, and I appreciate Blogger providing free blogs for us to utilise, but don’t you just love the interpersonal warmth of our modern times? Human interaction should never be electronic communication but, rather, HUMAN communication that is electronically transmitted.

I wrote back, asking, ‘Am I able, though, to get my post and comments back?’ and I await the robotic reply of Mr. or Mrs. or Ms. or Miss or Dr. or Sir or Lord or Darth or ??? 'Blogger Support'.

Cock And Blah

They don’t call me ‘the hedgehog’ without due merit! (They also don’t call Ron Jeremy ‘le hedgehog’ without due merit but that’s another story steeped in coincidence.) I move slowly. I don’t actually know how fast or slow hedgehogs are, now that I consider it, but they SEEM to move slowly, what with their hogging of hedgerows and the like that I imagine, as do my friends who call me one. Anyway, I am not of a fast and furious breed. I don’t mean I walk slowly – actually quite swiftly for one with such comparatively short legs – upwards beyond those two muscular stompers I have the body of a considerably taller man (“And I’ll bet he was glad to get rid of it,” I hear Groucho Marx interject) – with a considerably bigger penis than one might expect, I here find myself stupidly interjecting, but certainly the Ron Jeremy coincidence stops a bit shorter here, enjoy the pun – but it’s these doggone legs what keeps me the exact height of Charlie Chaplin. …Whose startlingly large penis, incidentally, became Hollywood legend as the eighth wonder of the natural world. But I digress! In fact, this whole paragraph is a digression intended to lead me into – no, not a dissertation on short men’s penises – but another post, which I have, as usual, been slow to publish.

And here it is…

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Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah blah – blah, blah blah blah. Blah blah? ‘Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah, blah, blah,’ blah, blah. (Blah, blah, blah; blah blahblahblahblah blah blah, blah blah blah, blah blahbah.) Blah.

Blah, blah blah.

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah blahblah, blah. Blah.