ate at a place called satu the other night, thai join, very empty and hidden in vvankerbankerland. good company, nice place and highly innapropriate music.
then got the lurgee, forgot how tiring sneezing could be,
started looking to apply myself to sorting out the Deshi flood situation, fired of some emails in my great impotence...then got distracted by the world outside and applied for a job!!!
most annoying thing in the world is putting your heart and soul into interestingly answering the inane questions on the dodgy online applications.....only to have the session time out.
sick joke. im not laughing
project-in-looking-out-the-window looks like its going through the process, references gone, not yet arrived.
i really want to go to this conference in malaysia in september. HOW IS THAT GONNA HAPPEN.
recipe for happiness - that gorgeous turkish bread and chocolate spread
24.7.04
who needs titles. this blog business isnt about discipline
Spoke to an interesting man yesterday, who might give me a job, or at least an interesting conversation, i had a dodgy experience with a small time enetrepreneur lately,I recommend thoroughly checking people out and not being too eager in the first place.
Dreamt that my project got funding last night, I wasnt too happy about it for some reason, which is strange... I guess thats one thing to learn for the future, 'never get yourself trapped in a lack-of-funding situation'.
also seems to be the season for mates telling prospectives to...'shoo off'.
AND A GOOD THING TOO!
to the tune of the song in Joseph and his technicoloured dreamcoat/
i dreamt that on the tube one day, at bill collecting time
your committee of tired old farts all turned and bowed to mine
could it be that I was born to set the goonies free?
Love(bleugh!!!), success and travel grants but not a pee aitch dee!
oh well.
recipe for happiness - white bread toasted, with honey and chopped strawberries.
Umma got some pleasant news from Desh today, inshAllah things will proceed swimmingly.
Newlyweds from the north coming tomorrow, need to tidy the house....suddenly that a paper called 'Controls on facies distribution and stratigraphic preservation in the Ganges–Brahmaputra delta sequence' looks like it needs reading.
Dreamt that my project got funding last night, I wasnt too happy about it for some reason, which is strange... I guess thats one thing to learn for the future, 'never get yourself trapped in a lack-of-funding situation'.
also seems to be the season for mates telling prospectives to...'shoo off'.
AND A GOOD THING TOO!
to the tune of the song in Joseph and his technicoloured dreamcoat/
i dreamt that on the tube one day, at bill collecting time
your committee of tired old farts all turned and bowed to mine
could it be that I was born to set the goonies free?
Love(bleugh!!!), success and travel grants but not a pee aitch dee!
oh well.
recipe for happiness - white bread toasted, with honey and chopped strawberries.
Umma got some pleasant news from Desh today, inshAllah things will proceed swimmingly.
Newlyweds from the north coming tomorrow, need to tidy the house....suddenly that a paper called 'Controls on facies distribution and stratigraphic preservation in the Ganges–Brahmaputra delta sequence' looks like it needs reading.
22.7.04
Opening + the Old Man and the Mynah Bird
Well this is a start, who knows who will end up reading my personalised vanity product?
This is definately going to build 'writing' skills.
I dont traditionally write, when i do this is what happens..... its coded enough for nobody to understand it really
A story about an old man and a mynah bird
This is really about a mate of mine. He is becoming rather worried about hings lately, and I think this will give him a good laugh.
In a big city there lived an old man, he wasn’t really that old and he wasn’t all that masculine, but if you sat with him in a room, you would understand. Well, this old man had a mynah bird, you know the kind that spoke when spoken to, and generally did what it was told to, without worrying too much about revolting against the cruel system that held her captive in a big city. She was happy with her life, if a little busy. He was happy too, and loved to wander the streets and wonder about things.
The old man sat on a park bench and started feeding the ducks with the little food he had, he wasn’t rich, but he made full use of what he had. It was on a duck feeding expedition that the mynah bird and the old man came across each other. Spring was letting itself be known to both of them. The mynah bird had noticed how sadly misguided many of the duckfeeders were in their duckfeeding ways. She would often chastise the duckfeeders and try to tell them what would be better for duckkind, but it was hard. Now the old man was an interesting and noble soul, and held a similar duckfeeding stance to the mynah bird and so they got along together swimmingly.
Their months together were fruitful for ducks and duckfeeders and duckfeeder intermediaries. Autumn started to burn the life out of the park and the mynah bird rejected the old mans kind offer of a house for the winter, stocked with all the cakes a bird could eat. She was drawn to join her flock of mynah birds on a pigeon spotting project, which was a stable profession that was societaly respected and pretty cushy really, though it did take up a lot of her time. The old man was far more interested in building the most exquisite clocks in the land, and he took to it like a man possessed.
Now years passed and neither the old man, nor the dear mynah bird spent much time thinking about each other, until the mynah bird swooped back onto the old mans shoulder. This messed up the old mans rhythm and turned him into a different person, slightly more obsessed than before, but with something else, something birdy. He wanted to build clocks, she was a qualified pigeon spotter with a tiring schedule.
The old man thought long and hard about his renewed relationship with the mynah bird, they were different from before. And this mynah bird was less talkative. ‘Why don’t you talk to me Mynah Bird?’ the old man asked himself, ‘How comes I have to do everything?’ This was not good for his mental health and was killing his ambition and even the some of the best parts of his nature.
This continued for months and months, much to the amusement and fear of some of the people who loved the old man. Then one day he decided to proverbially ‘Sod it’.
The End
This is definately going to build 'writing' skills.
I dont traditionally write, when i do this is what happens..... its coded enough for nobody to understand it really
A story about an old man and a mynah bird
This is really about a mate of mine. He is becoming rather worried about hings lately, and I think this will give him a good laugh.
In a big city there lived an old man, he wasn’t really that old and he wasn’t all that masculine, but if you sat with him in a room, you would understand. Well, this old man had a mynah bird, you know the kind that spoke when spoken to, and generally did what it was told to, without worrying too much about revolting against the cruel system that held her captive in a big city. She was happy with her life, if a little busy. He was happy too, and loved to wander the streets and wonder about things.
The old man sat on a park bench and started feeding the ducks with the little food he had, he wasn’t rich, but he made full use of what he had. It was on a duck feeding expedition that the mynah bird and the old man came across each other. Spring was letting itself be known to both of them. The mynah bird had noticed how sadly misguided many of the duckfeeders were in their duckfeeding ways. She would often chastise the duckfeeders and try to tell them what would be better for duckkind, but it was hard. Now the old man was an interesting and noble soul, and held a similar duckfeeding stance to the mynah bird and so they got along together swimmingly.
Their months together were fruitful for ducks and duckfeeders and duckfeeder intermediaries. Autumn started to burn the life out of the park and the mynah bird rejected the old mans kind offer of a house for the winter, stocked with all the cakes a bird could eat. She was drawn to join her flock of mynah birds on a pigeon spotting project, which was a stable profession that was societaly respected and pretty cushy really, though it did take up a lot of her time. The old man was far more interested in building the most exquisite clocks in the land, and he took to it like a man possessed.
Now years passed and neither the old man, nor the dear mynah bird spent much time thinking about each other, until the mynah bird swooped back onto the old mans shoulder. This messed up the old mans rhythm and turned him into a different person, slightly more obsessed than before, but with something else, something birdy. He wanted to build clocks, she was a qualified pigeon spotter with a tiring schedule.
The old man thought long and hard about his renewed relationship with the mynah bird, they were different from before. And this mynah bird was less talkative. ‘Why don’t you talk to me Mynah Bird?’ the old man asked himself, ‘How comes I have to do everything?’ This was not good for his mental health and was killing his ambition and even the some of the best parts of his nature.
This continued for months and months, much to the amusement and fear of some of the people who loved the old man. Then one day he decided to proverbially ‘Sod it’.
The End
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