Life is full of distractions. So many ways to pass time, you wonder where it goes.
Not that you wish it away, it just seems to slip by. Life is what happens whilst you’re busy making other plans.
And it can all get in the way. Everything that you think is taking your focus from where you think it should be.
Anyway, I have been distracted of late.
This is Hugo. He has just peed on his bed.
To the washing machine. Again.
Regular readers of this might know that I am partial to a bit of surfing. And sometimes writing about it.
I was recently invited to contribute a few pieces to mesurf, a website produced for surfers by surfers.
I have been following the mesurf project since about the launch and love their work so it is pretty flattering to have been asked.
The first piece about Australia and surfing is now up: Lucky Country
For anyone coming here from mesurf for the first time, you might like to check out:
For anyone else, I suggest you check out mesurf for information on all aspects of surfing from news, features, fitness, technique, profiles, interviews, the latest surf product releases…. oh and occasionally me.
Having been fortunate enough to spend a few days in Paris earlier this month, the usual thing would be an in-depth trip advisor-esque review.
A rundown of the city, the people, the food, the wine, the vibe.
So here it is:
Some people say that Paris is overrated.
I don’t.
Here. There. Somewhere.
It is a funny thing travelling for 24 hours and across 11 timezones. And by funny I mean uncomfortable and tedious.
Of course at least you can wile away the time watching some of Hollywood’s finest work in just the manner the creators intended – snipped, censored and squeezed into 6-inches.
So in true economy class fashion, I present my movie reviews, all small portions and ultimately unsatisfying:
Up – After making you sad within 10 minutes the only way is up. Cone of shame.
The Cove – Dolphins get captured and then sold or slaughtered in Taiji, Japan. Depressing.
Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs – Saved by the monkey.
It Might Get Loud – Guitarists compare egos.
District 9 – Awesome fooking prawns.
Julie & Julia – Avoid*
Inglourious Basterds – Actually I refused to watch this until I have a proper screen and all the naughty bits.
And there you have it. Before landing you will be served a light ’snack’.
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*I was told it just wasn’t for me so I thoroughly avoided it.
Another year passes. Another year coming up.
I have a good feeling about 2010.
Happy New Year.
Hemispheres and seasons. Apparently each have flip sides.
It is a little surreal to switch from one to the other in a short space of time.
Each makes you appreciate the other.
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Walking up one lane and sliding down another.
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The same sky above us all.
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Modes of transport may vary.
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If a change is as good as a holiday, then a change and a holiday cannot go wrong.
The washing machine is eating itself.
It cries for help. Each load comes out wearing flecks of fan-belt.
Personally I think it has given up on life. It came out, had a look, stuck around for a little while but has now decided it just doesn’t fancy it.
It makes plaintive cries in a language of its own. It used to sound like it was singing the backing to ‘The Lion Sleeps Tonight‘. Now it emits a guttural moan and a rubbery-dandruff declaration of dissatisfaction.
Can something so functional have a crisis of confidence? “Is this it? Is this what I am here for? Is there nothing else? Look at me. Save me. I’m dying.”
But I am not sure whether our washing machine is suffering from existential nihilism so much as making a grand statement about the state of our world.
It might be positioning itself as the ultimate example of our consumerism, of our selfishness and greed. Yet another device designed to make human life easier.
It can then force the question of whether it is worth an extra shake of each piece of clothing to procure a replacement. Another clone from the endless armies of identical brethren. A drum load here, a spin-cycle speed there but basically the same template.
Our journey from primordial swamp to the supposed mastery of our surroundings has culminated in a choice of hundreds. Doing the same thing.
Does it flaunt its ubiquity as the precise moment humanity condemned itself by caring more about these sort of options than peace or sustainability?
And maybe it knows something. Can this Japanese-assembled personal fabric-cleaning machine be a prescient being?
Has it seen the end? Does it want no part of what is to come? An early exit before the storm?
Perhaps it is a cubic matte-white mirror within which we see ourselves?
Perhaps it is a 5-year old washing machine.
