Avaunt

Crikey !

That would get you ten years in Australia mate !. Glad no one got hurt.

( I don't understand sometimes . . . Jason never says 'struth, nor Crikey . . . he doesn't follow the cricket . . . )

I can't think of how traumatic this all must be for Americans. It is pretty seriously horrifying even for ME, and I am just something like  "affectionately fond"  of the place, and its Honour . . .

It is like something out of a b movie horror show.

And the WORST bit of news about the USA lately was the guy in charge of the POST OFFICE ! ! ! ! ! destroying the post offices' capacity to do its job.

How the trumpets can hear that and still look themselves in the eye . . . words fail me.

I feel sad hearing that, Christian. I wish there was something more supportive for me to say.

I am glad you didn't find out the hard way that your allergy had gotten worse.

It was a summer bee, of course, and those are considerably less potent in the sting.

I read the first one some time ago, it was pretty good. I liked the sub-text of political thought running through it. And the very sad doomed love affair touched me. I felt just as sorry for them as I felt for Ninefingers, Abercrombie does the feels to perfection . . . though I wish sometimes he might do the happy feels for someone.

It is quite incredible how he is able to make you identify with disparate characters, in the course of the one narrative.

How about Jews vs. Zombies next!  A sentence, I suppose, was never written before !

I always found Catherynne M. Valente's writing to be formulaic in the extreme. She often had short stories in Anthologies I have read, and I never looked forward to them. Her characters particularly, I found to merely be mouthpieces.

I am good. My memories of my mum are pretty good, I did my duty by her my whole life, and pretty much supported her in everything these last five years, which I find a great comfort. Also, it is the kind of consolation that is mercenary but pragmatic, an older property in this suburb sold for 2.25 million just before lock-down.  That doesn't have the secluded backyard and magnificent view, a view which physically can't be built out as our back fence is the Volcanic Reserve boundary, of this property

I guess the ashes thing is shocking, but then I never explained I think, how totally demented my sister is.

Mum's plan, often discussed, and talked about just a few days before she died, was her ashes and dads to be mixed, my brother was going to make a concrete block with them, and take it down to the cemetery on Great Barrier Island. Some of their friends are buried there, and now the cemetery is closed for new interments, but mum liked the idea so Kevin was going to cheat and quietly put the block in among the trees.

My sister hates her brothers so much and hated Dad so much all her adult life, that she simply seized the chance to insult and anger us. I guarantee she took the ashes to a park and dumped them and then pissed on them, that is how her twisted mind works. She often used to twist up her ugly face and rant about how she would piss on dad's grave, has done for more than 40 years.

Now, when she is faced with the backlash, she has made some (not even half-baked claim) that actually mum asked her to scatter dads ashes in the backyard at home, but it is simply a lie. It was Mum's constant concern that nothing was done that would end up with Linda criticised and even tiny little decisions mum would make sure I was either there when she told Linda, or would tell me herself.

I have been here almost constantly.

The urn sat in plain sight, anyone could have opened it, so mum would have been aware that might happen. She would have known the obvious question would be asked.

I was in the room about four weeks before mum passed away, when a girl cousin in fact did open it, as it is just an ornate silver box and she was interested to see what it looked like inside, she said "OH !" and closed it and looked at me, and it was obvious she saw the bag of ashes.

Mum was already pretty well bed-bound at that point, it was a major effort to get her to the bathroom.

So supposedly Linda got mum up out of her bed, took her to the dining room window which overlooks the garden, scattered the ashes and too mum back to bed, while I wasn't here, and then I didn't get told it had happened by Mum ?. Kevin wasn't told of the change of plan? Wasn't told how or where her ashes were now to be handled, I men, what does he do now?. None of us told so that Linda wasn't mistreated?.

Anyway, it hasn't affected me at all, because ashes are nothing, and I already was well aware that Linda is demented and dangerous. I am living here at the moment, and getting the place ready for sale. When lock-down ends there is going to be a couple of jumbo-bins of junk taken away and that will be it.

Thanks mate.

You guys are not going to credit this. My dads ashes are not in the urn they have sat in, waiting to be joined to mum's.

I mentioned I think of how my sister hates all of us, and especially hated my dad?. And is an insane bitch?.

I mean, I am not superstitious, and the ashes mean not one tiny thing to me, don't concern yourselves, but she literally will do anything. She has never made any doubt in my mind that she is dangerously demented, but this is something I seriously did not expect. Kevin my older brother did mention it as a possibility but I laughed it off.

HOLY Sheet, ASHWOODS, I remember that.

You are not ready for Resyk just yet Jason.

Thank you guys, I am not too distressed, I will be fine I suspect.

re: the inlaws having an opinion about bequests, I don't think it is customary here at all, but two things explaining their attitude are how UTTERLY sexist my Mum has always been. Nothing her sons ever did was totally OK with her, and nothing her daughter, grand-daughters or some of the daughters-in-law ever did or said, (no matter how outrageous to common sense or civil behaviour) was criticised, nor allowed to be criticised.

So they are emboldened and firmly set in their ways by now.   

The second thing is Kiwi women ( like their Aussie Cussies ) are no shrinking violets at the best of times anyway, more than once in my life I have seen Kiwi girls push in the teeth of blokes from other cultures with a business-like left and right. Usually because of the surprise factor, it seemed, the guy just didn't consider

a. They would actually do it. and

b. They had done it often enough to know exactly how.

They don't do it to Kiwi blokes often . . . unless they smell soft-cok. And on top of all this, they are each of them strong women anyway, I suspect my sister-in-law Sally would weight 90 Kgs, she helped milk 360 cows twice a day for 19 years, and throws no love-pats mentally nor physically. I saw her lay out two women as neat as you or I could hope to do it, when the two of them crowded her at once and  came it the bully on a netball court. She used the ball, and clobbered them both with zaps right in the face, as quick as a drumbeat and as solidly as a trip-hammer. They lay down like reaped corn . . . I was so proud of her. Peter just about BURST, he was so happy. One of their HUSBANDS was proud of her ! I kid you not. Still makes me laugh 20 years later.

And the way they treat me has a lot to do with that whole thing about them. They just mistake my general complaisance and good nature for weakness, and have contempt for me. My elder brothers do the same thing to me, for the same reason. I am a traditionalist ( "No, really?" says Lou ) and in fact, they are my elders, so I defer to them. I always have, so the relationship is tre' dysfunctional and always has been. It is the reason it was ME who shouldered the main burden of our parents after all, if I had not been around, one of them would have done it, and would have required Linda to do more of what she promised she would do, etc. Because it was "only tony" they just let it happen like it did, and helped not the least.

So it isn't that the females think it is proper to have an opinion in the issue, more that they think it proper to keep me in my place? Maybe?. I dunno.

Anyway, I am not the least bit worried. I am not going to live forever, and I won't waste a second of it on selfish people. All my duty to my family is discharged I feel.

Good news is, it seems there will be enough of a bequest for a deposit on a house. My nephew, maybe two of them, is dead keen to buy a house together here in Auckland  and pay off a lot of it for five years or so then sell so he can buy his own, which suits me down to the ground. Of course, his mum found out about the idea, and automatically started laying down the law about what I was allowed to expect of him etc. He owns his own business, quite successful, and is 27 . . . I think he is not in danger of me cheating him.

My friends would tell me to drink no more rum tonight, and so I will do your will by proxy, folks.

My mum passed away. I am not too broken up about it, I have been her full time care-giver since December and have had lots of time to come to grips with it. Sad of course, but not too sad.

There has been a lot to feel happy about in fact. Her great fear has always been losing her berries, and she has been perfectly lucid the whole time, kept her mind fully right to the end. She never had pain, either, except for the pain that she always had the last 25 years from her back, which really wasn't that bad even at its worst.

She got to stay in her own home to the end, never needed anything that simply wasn't provided for her, and got to give her various treasures away herself to the people she wanted to have them. I even got a hug from my sister . . . though that felt very like the Aesop tale with the scorpion which can not swim nor resist the exposed back.

I kept everyone in the family informed through a mass txting twice a day for the last two months, and I am quite cynically aware of the majority of them being pretty much fair-weather friends, so complementary of me for merely doing my duty, and I have no doubt telling each other I was hoping to be gifted the house. Without even trying, I have heard back from two different nephews* things they have over-heard about my siblings being in agreement that I am not to take anything out of the house, as if I would. Can't leave the place even if they or I WANTED me to, ironically, because it is the middle of a lockdown situation and you can't go flat-hunting or the like.

I shouldn't dwell on things like that, but one sister-in-law in particular, of my least successful brother, has made the point to me "It has to be sold at an auction !" a couple of different times. I just agree with them all in a non-committal way, because nothing any of us says matters at this point, Mum and Dad had  wills, and they were properly drawn up and that is all that has to be said. It isn't even the business of sister-in-laws at all, that is just a fact.

The funny thing is, while they are all unanimous about that, they ALSO agree that they are all too busy to find time to help clean up dads vast collection of junk under the house. One brother has already said "You could get most of it done though, because you have at least 10 more days of lockdown" which would suit them all very well no doubt. "I've got some bad news, for YOU sunshine !" I didn't say it, but simply smiled and did the non-committal thing harder.

* Of my 9 nephews, 4 of them tell anyone who asks "I wish dad was more like Tigger" and are literally my minions. I had a problem with my twin last year, and his rugby-boof-head son offered to sort his dad out for me, old school sort out implied.  *ahem* Mhuahahahaha !

12 hours ago, JasonT said:

I've got no way of telling. Even if I actually counted the ones on the shelves (it's about 450), and the ones boxed in the garage, I borrowed countless books from libraries back in the day. But it's in the thousands all-up. Admittedly all those wafer-thin Target Doctor Who novelisations inflate the figure somewhat.  

 

Was that Kelly's, the one next to a porno shop? Or are you thinking of that big multi-floor one that had their logo on the price stickers?  

OH, yes, both, but the one I was mainly talking about was the semi-single level one. Was it called Kelly's ? Porn shops on George street, oh? I am not sure Dignified Sydney town had such things.

Did we go there together one day, not realising we were friends ? 

I don't remember when I found it had gone, but I do remember the feeling of distress.

There really were a vast number of second hand bookshops scattered across Sydney. Lots in Auckland too, most suburbs had two full time and lots of other places like secondhand clothing shops had books shelves tucked out of the way. Whenever I would go to a new suburb, I would hunt them out, it was simpler times, we made our own fun !.

There was a really big secondhand shop, that had a vast number, tens of thousands of books in the back, at  the back of the shops on the north-west side of Bondi Junction,  I think on Oxford Rd did you ever go there?. That was the best mix of books I ever saw, because they used to actively hunt out consignments of  books off things like the lost and found store at the railways and the hospitals and that sort of thing. 

I am out of sorts. Just triggered a flashback about losing my friend Peter Allen Shaw. I am good now though.

On 8/12/2020 at 9:05 AM, Christian said:

I think it’s impossible to say also. I have a massive book collection that I couldn’t even count, and then there are the books I got rid of over the years.

 

I never even remotely suspected that you would know, Christian, unless it was that you had been keeping track in diaries or something.

The sentence contains a logical flaw, or one could say "Christian has read too many books", but it makes sense with the modifier ", to ever hope to count them in retrospect".

How we wrote so many just in one afternoon was Pete had an astonishingly detailed memory, and I love words/titles/names etc. One of us saying the name of an author, together we would recount every title we could remember. And actually we just went for fantasy, sci fi, classics, nothing esoteric like "Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Meccah [Burton, Richard F.]" which to our mutual surprise we had both read.

What we were doing all those years ago was  putting down in writing the books that we had read, so the other guy didn't go "Holy shit, THRESHOLD . . . I wonder if Pete has read this" purchase, carry home,

Pete : "Of course I read that, we mentioned inexhaustible petrol tanks, that day we played tennis at Wendy O'Sheas house, and you then said . . . "

Tony : "Peter. PEDRO. My friend. For a man with a perfect memory, why you always forgettin' that other people don't got".

Peter : " you know perfectly well that you chose to have a bad memory, and if you would just open your ears, listen to me and pay attention . . ."

Tony : eh ? couldn't exactly hear you . . . you dick.

I used to really love the Sydney second hand shops, in the early eighties they were Aladdin's cave and no mistake. They did such good business, there was a big one right on George St for fifty years, it had five staff, and was full of PAYING customers from doors open to doors close every day of the week. You could hardly fit down the shelves closest to the counter.

Something me and Pete used to  have as a ploy, was you would ask the shop owner "Did you get any books from American tourists recently?".

Because of the trade embargoes The Empire used to run, many US publishers in my youth, simply never sold in the Dominions. That was changing around or just before  the 80s, but frequently enough to be valuable, US visitors  would bring in books and trade them, books that you simply could not find in the normal course of events.

There, that is a bit of "Buggy Whip trading" trivia for you, you know something that was useful once, and is now useless from now till doomsday.

BUM. Auckland is going back into lockdown and isolation tomorrow. We got four cases of community transmission in South Auckland today.

We better hope they didn't go to the Rugby League game on Saturday.

How many novels do you estimate you have read, guys?.

When I was 25, one rainy Sunday, when I was 26, my workmate/flatmate/best mate and I sat down at the table with beers, two writing pads and pens, and tried to explicate just those novels that we had both read the novel. It was in the region of six hundred. We only stopped because we had run out of afternoon. We both thought we had not even got close to the real number.

From out of the lists, we compiled two reading lists, of works one of us had not read, and the other had and recommended.

We did this because we had noticed on our visits to the many secondhand bookshops of Sydney, a tendency of one of us to go, "This was great" and the other say "yep, readit"

I honestly would love to know what the figure is now, it would be terribly interesting just to know within a cooee of the number.

Man, she was CAPITAL in "The Long Kiss Goodnight". One of the best "hero" films ever made, hands down !. She was utterly convincing, you really thought of her as a deadly and remorseless threat.

The quality of the film-stock itself in that was a trifle low, just a smidgen, but everything else :kisses fingertips:

And of course, Mr Jackson.

One of my favourite movies ever. A crying shame we never got a sequel.

On 8/2/2020 at 2:52 PM, Christian said:

 

I usually try to avoid famous people on the internet (whether their blogs, FaceBook, or Twitter), and I feel that’s for very good reason.

 

I resolutely avoid searching out author's blogs, though I have read two or thee when people whose opinion I value, have linked to them.

Ken McLeod, Justina Robson, Joe Abercrombie, Neal Asher all have blogs which are works of art and musings on life.

He isn't our bitch, but he is most certainly the TV series  production companies' bitch.

GRR Martin didn't write himself into a corner, or have problems with story-arcs, or any other lie that has been advanced.

He mendaciously and viciously and (capital punishment deserving-ly) deliberately delayed the series so as to avoid triggering the pathetic sense of entitlement that mere vile TV watchers* would feel if the story had already reached its resolution in the published novels.

"Oh NOES, someone gave me SPOILERS ! ! ! ! I can't finish watching the series on the idiots-box now". Which equated to a predicted possible reduction in the TV advertising return.

He did this entirely at the casual suggestion of some greedy PR flack from the production company, and he did it so he could roll like a pig in MORE money than he was already going to roll in.

Change my mind.

* If any of you people who are my electric friends mistakenly think I refer to you, because you have carelessly only watched GoT on the TV rather than read it . . . perish the thought !.

I love McEwan for the sense of place his stories always have, it is quite his forte imo

We were too busy for me to ask his advice, busy watching Auckland deal successfully with the MooLoos. There was no one in the stadium more surprised than myself when that happened.

One of the Moo-Cow-Men ( getting the ball about 20 feet out from in front of our posts and clear of attackers ) saw an opening on the wing, and gave a very credible and swiftly kicked attempt at ruining our fun, and they would have won the match, except his team-mate failed, failed for no reason at all, failed so horribly . . . the bloody ball came perfectly to him as he raced forward . . . I think even I, with my famous inability to catch, could have caught that . . .

The groan of heartache and despair from the Waikato supporters sitting around us was sweet, delicious. I will eat their pain for some weeks.

Quite unfair to the guy who kicked in such a perfectly taken pass too, he will be mad, bro.

OK. We have a guy here, Dr Ashley Bloomfield, he is New Zealands Director General of Health, and a "pair of safe hands" who has basically steered us safely through the pandemic, with the best science information, timely advice and a nightly address to the Nation on our TV news, and quite seriously he has been worth his weight in gold.

He is, however, a pretty comprehensive Renaissance Man  for a New Zealander . . . you would have to say a "Peak Kiwi Male" because

https://www.nzherald.co.nz/sport/news/article.cfm?c_id=4&objectid=12350952

You can put the fella on the WING, on a field where the opposition is ALL BLACKS . . . and he runs in a beautiful try, and they don't lay a fingertip on him.

When they announced on the TV news that he was on the Parliaments team . . . the two male newsreaders gave this most IMPRESSED* facial expression in unison, but the two FEMALE newsreaders looked shocked and concerned . . . and one of them couldn't contain herself and said "Oh, they ( she meant the opposing team who were all ex-professional Rugby players ) better not hurt our Dr Ashley ! " and the two sheilas looked VERY SERIOUSLY into the camera lens, faces warning of dire consequences for anyone who got carried away in the tackle !.

* No matter how rational or scientifically minded a Kiwi Male is, there is just a THING. The hierarchy goes 

Ed Hillary

ANZACs

All Blacks

and it goes downward from there. And just like you would be respectful of a Serviceperson because of ANZAC-aura, and respectful of mountain climbers because of Sir Ed, a person is more respected if he/she plays Rugby, no matter how talented a artist, or skilled a Dr, or dedicated a Midwife . . . if they also can run in a try from the Wing, and GOD_DAMN IT WAS ALL BLACKS or BLACK FERNS who couldn't stop her/him ! ! !  . . . they are a better person than he/she who can not.

I am going to watch Auckland lose a Rugby match tomorrow night, will ask one of the nephews to talk me through  "sign me up' on instagramme, Pooka.

That photo of Romana is OMG adorable !.  wow.

Her Mum looks stylish, as per usual. Entirely true fact follows. I have always loved purple.

And it looks fresh, and new, sideways. A thing I have noticed about photography before.

How is Romana doing?. You said I should follow you on instagram, but I dunno how to do this?.

I am half way back to "pretty chuffed with myself to be 55 and not have a pot-guts" or, prosaically, "fit".

I am going to do a photo montage of "This was Tigger before Xmas last year, cor he looks like he isn't old even . . . OH NOES, look how fat Tigger got in just three months of reading, gaming and drinking rum . . . Aha, Tigger claws back to manhood ! . . . OH YUSSS ! it isn't a six-pack because, come on, did you miss the part about 55, but it no longer sticks out like his elder brothers revenge !"

I have the first three photos, and am already back to my pre christmas lifting peak. ( What is a smaller thing than peak? I don't think benching 70 Kgs rates using "peak". Hummock? ) so maybe in a month I will be posting my equivalent of "Yeah, I brought a new car, see?".

lol.

In associated news, when I recently did that test to check if the strokes had scrambled my eggs,  I also found that question at the end where you count down from a hundred in sevens, to be difficult. I had no problem with the elephant, but I was very upset to be marked wrong when I  named the Dromedary ! I want a recount !

On 7/7/2020 at 7:56 PM, JohnMcMahon said:

Have you read the first two books ?

Oh yes I have, sir.

I have to say, the depth and scope of those books is so wonderful, so pleasing . . . hyperbole fails me. Superlative.

The writing is flawless. The characterisation is so good. The main character often ( always? ) plays off other characters, in a kind of conceit of proving he is everything wonderful*, but they never feel like they have been written weak so that he shines. His school mates for example are genuine individuals with their own motives and stories and attitudes, and while the books hardly explicate this, you really feel it, you feel as if they each have an interesting tale going on that we simply don't hear about.

When the main character is presented with a problem or some hitch in his path, you never have the least feeling it is contrived. When he answers the challenge, it is always in a way that means something really to his development as a fully fleshed character, and each time it doubles as a further explanation of the fabric of the world he lives in. Just the act of meeting on a bridge is played with and meaningful and interesting and evocative . . .

There are stories within stories, and some of them are just a story some one of the cultures tells itself . . . but as you gather more threads it begins to seem as if these cultures are telling over one and the same story from their own perspective. And there is SO MUCH pleasure to be had in speculating about who is what when and where . . .

Also, story has Best Elves. Not even a contest, contesting point is forbidden, best sexy elf, best trickster elf, best sweetie elf ( if she is not an Elf, she ought to be. I will be disgruntled if, as people think, she is merely human. None the less in hopeless love, tho. ) I want to ( unseen, never bothering her with even so much as  my shadow or anything coarse like that ) protect with/to my life's last drop of blood and will be really really traumatised if anything unhappy happens to. ( I'm going to need medical help if anything happens to her. I really am not kidding. Kinda frightened. ) Best elves and I dunwanna hear no dissent.

It has bad guys that make Sauruman and Sauron look like grumpy uncles. It has bullys that make the 13 year old Flashman who tormented Tom Brown seem like a good sport.

And I never ever read a theology where I felt that the "god" had his head screwed on correctly, but my goodness thelu suits me in some very visceral fashion.

* And he is everything wonderful, it seems, but, however . . .

Edit to add, the books have the most glorious example of revenge on a shitty workmate that I have ever read. Funny, poignant, witty, and unhinged.