Monday, April 30, 2001
MY FEET HURT MY FEET HURT MY FEET HURT!
Also my head, my neck and my eyes, but mostly my feet.
Hong Kong is a wonderful city to walk around, but it's hell on the feet.
Plus I smell; 85 per cent humidity and polyester T-shirts. 'nuff said.
At home, I'm on the short side; in Hong Kong, I'm average to tall.
The Hong Kong people seem to be gradually losing the command of English the British instilled in them - in the antique shop where I found the expensive present I'm going to buy my boy (he has the URL for this, but I'm sure he never looks at it) the girl, wo is selling antiques to tourists, had almost no English. The street signs are descending into electrical device instruction manual English "under working" for "work in progress", that kind of thing.
worst of all, they seem to be changing from walking on the left of the footpath (they drive on the left, as do Australians, at least at home) to walking on the right. And they're making the change intermittently. Very confusing.
bath now, work tomorrow.
did I mention my feet hurt?
Also my head, my neck and my eyes, but mostly my feet.
Hong Kong is a wonderful city to walk around, but it's hell on the feet.
Plus I smell; 85 per cent humidity and polyester T-shirts. 'nuff said.
At home, I'm on the short side; in Hong Kong, I'm average to tall.
The Hong Kong people seem to be gradually losing the command of English the British instilled in them - in the antique shop where I found the expensive present I'm going to buy my boy (he has the URL for this, but I'm sure he never looks at it) the girl, wo is selling antiques to tourists, had almost no English. The street signs are descending into electrical device instruction manual English "under working" for "work in progress", that kind of thing.
worst of all, they seem to be changing from walking on the left of the footpath (they drive on the left, as do Australians, at least at home) to walking on the right. And they're making the change intermittently. Very confusing.
bath now, work tomorrow.
did I mention my feet hurt?
Sunday, April 29, 2001
this may be goodbye for a week - but I doubt it. somewhere in the madness of Hong Kong hotel room Web connections and the press room at the W3C conference, between listening to really shit-hot people strut their stuff, cobbling together stories and seeking out the very, very best yum cha and discount fashion shops, I will succumb to the urge to blog.
Leaving/on a jet plane ....
Leaving/on a jet plane ....
Saturday, April 28, 2001
Thursday morning riding in to work; the wind was blowing, the trees were falling apart, leaving little yellow pieces of themselves all over the road, even the normally even roar of the traffic one block over on Nicholson Street was fragmented by the moving air. It seemed like nothing was still or whole. At the child care centre, a little boy stopped, up to his ankles in leaves, gaping at the swirling crowd of pixies around his face. And his mother called: "Hurry up."
AARRRR, NO FAIR! Why do all the good designers get the goodies? The Blogger template contest has no "weakest html skills" category. So I have no hope.
Thursday, April 26, 2001
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- no, I don't understand it either
Wednesday, April 25, 2001
this is sick. must sleep. must post one last link. Joey Ramone had good taste in music. Here's his top ten list
I bet this appears twice: posts still not appearing on the page, despite showing up on my editing page, mostly.
I have a lot of profound thoughts to share, but instead I'll mention something that occurred to me as I was falling asleep this afternoon: words ending in "imp" rarely denote strength or manliness: WIMP CHIMP LIMP PIMP and BRING OUT THE GIMP.
(Damn I'm glad I learned to touch type. It's 9.29 pm here and a work night and I'm almost asleep, but I can close my eyes and blog at the same time.)
I have a lot of profound thoughts to share, but instead I'll mention something that occurred to me as I was falling asleep this afternoon: words ending in "imp" rarely denote strength or manliness: WIMP CHIMP LIMP PIMP and BRING OUT THE GIMP.
(Damn I'm glad I learned to touch type. It's 9.29 pm here and a work night and I'm almost asleep, but I can close my eyes and blog at the same time.)
despite being updated every minute, I'm finding that certain other bloggers are online at about the same time as me. names such as "Whee, I'm a dolphin, ek-ek-ek-ek-ek" do tend to stick in the mind as well. of course.
Tuesday, April 24, 2001
too much to do: my list for today, my "day off":
Write cover story for next week's paper
Read a week's worth of Uni course notes
Swim
20 bike ride (done)
aerobics (done)
Ring Karin
Blog
File threatening pile of papers looming over my desk
wash clothes
Ring Mum
write various letters related to my campaign to stop my next-door neighbours building a couple of huge apartments where there is currently a lovely tree
convince Bilbo he really does want to be brushed, no really.
relax.
Write cover story for next week's paper
Read a week's worth of Uni course notes
Swim
20 bike ride (done)
aerobics (done)
Ring Karin
Blog
File threatening pile of papers looming over my desk
wash clothes
Ring Mum
write various letters related to my campaign to stop my next-door neighbours building a couple of huge apartments where there is currently a lovely tree
convince Bilbo he really does want to be brushed, no really.
relax.
Monday, April 23, 2001
Today I am wearing my New Boots. They are black, come to the top of my calf, have high, solid heels and make me feel as sexy as hell - kind of like Barbarella without the metallic trim.
In Dublin, every single female was wearing a version of them, so of course I had to buy some. I'm aware that by late winter they will make me look like a fashion victim here in Melbourne, because the shops are already full of similar things. But today they have turned my three-year-old wool tunic dress into a kind of 60's funky shift, and my unwashed hair into lank slacker style ...
In Dublin, every single female was wearing a version of them, so of course I had to buy some. I'm aware that by late winter they will make me look like a fashion victim here in Melbourne, because the shops are already full of similar things. But today they have turned my three-year-old wool tunic dress into a kind of 60's funky shift, and my unwashed hair into lank slacker style ...
Sunday, April 22, 2001
one of my favourite places in Melbourne is the Queen Victoria Market, a city food and general stuff market that sells everything from organic apples to whole dead sheep to cheap trashy shoes.
I love to stop there on the way to work, park my pushbike and grab the week's supply of desk munchies, then prolong the morning just that extra 15 minutes by buying a caffe latte from the best bratwurst shop in Melbourne, probably Australia.
It's probably 2.5 metres wide and the queue is often five people deep, right across the span of the shop. The counter is white marble, cracked and stained a soft yellow in the centre from all the coffees that have been set down there. Once it would have been new and shiny, without tiny particles of food in every mm-wide crack, without stains, without character.
I suppose as I get older, all the wonderful places like this, like Brunetti's Italian cake shop in Carlton, like Pelligrini's the coffee mecca of Bourke St (uptown Melbourne) will go along with their elderly migrant proprietors .... at least we have new places, Moroccan restaurants, Asian fast-food joints, opening all the time. but it takes a long time to get so good at that one thing you do as these places are.
I love to stop there on the way to work, park my pushbike and grab the week's supply of desk munchies, then prolong the morning just that extra 15 minutes by buying a caffe latte from the best bratwurst shop in Melbourne, probably Australia.
It's probably 2.5 metres wide and the queue is often five people deep, right across the span of the shop. The counter is white marble, cracked and stained a soft yellow in the centre from all the coffees that have been set down there. Once it would have been new and shiny, without tiny particles of food in every mm-wide crack, without stains, without character.
I suppose as I get older, all the wonderful places like this, like Brunetti's Italian cake shop in Carlton, like Pelligrini's the coffee mecca of Bourke St (uptown Melbourne) will go along with their elderly migrant proprietors .... at least we have new places, Moroccan restaurants, Asian fast-food joints, opening all the time. but it takes a long time to get so good at that one thing you do as these places are.
Hey, blog spam!
Why is it that this reminds me of the generic "you sound really cool, drop me a line" emails I used to get when I posted my profile on RSVP, that well-known Australian virtual smoky bar?
>You have an awesome blog... ive' attatched an award for you to this
email..
please post it and check out my site
http://www.punkblog.cjb.net
thank you and goodbye
Attachment: LovleySite.bmp (95k) -- View Attachment
Notice: Attachments are automatically scanned for viruses
/end spam/
I bet he/she didn't even read my blog!!! This is what I get for tarting myself about in the blog directories, I suppose.
the bitmap was an award/link to the blogger's site. Their site carries ads. 'nuf said.
Why is it that this reminds me of the generic "you sound really cool, drop me a line" emails I used to get when I posted my profile on RSVP, that well-known Australian virtual smoky bar?
>You have an awesome blog... ive' attatched an award for you to this
email..
please post it and check out my site
http://www.punkblog.cjb.net
thank you and goodbye
Attachment: LovleySite.bmp (95k) -- View Attachment
Notice: Attachments are automatically scanned for viruses
/end spam/
I bet he/she didn't even read my blog!!! This is what I get for tarting myself about in the blog directories, I suppose.
the bitmap was an award/link to the blogger's site. Their site carries ads. 'nuf said.
Saturday, April 21, 2001
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