22 June, 2008
The Coriolis Effect? What is it? I used to know. At least well enough to pass my Year 12 Phys. Sci. exam. It's just one of a slew of things I knew and forgot. Although some people, say you don't forget anything....
I can't calculate the circumference of a circle. Is it the diameter or the radius times pi? Maybe it's neither. Even if I could find my calculator it couldn't help me. I need Dataman from Texas Instruments.
Snakebite. You don't suck the poison out. You use a tourniquet, right? No...it's compression, but not a tourniquet...maybe you elevate the affected part.? Or would that just send the venom screaming through your bloodstream and straight towards your heart?
You put avocados in a bag with bananas and both ripen quicker. Don't even bother with an unripe apricot because it won't get any softer. Maybe...
Feed a Fever. Starve a Cold. Red Sky at night, Shepherd's Pie. A rolling scone gathers no mass which is different from volume. But how? Its not the volts that kill you but the amps. But why?
There's a lot of stuff here that I knew, or thought I knew, at least fleetingly.
I need a hard drive to back up my soft brain.
11 June, 2008
Apologies from the outset. I've gone a little Facebook crazy. But I have an excuse - I've been on it for the last hour, just clicking stuff, so if I 'blog about the experience, then I won't feel so feebly 'noughties about the ordeal. Will they understand any of this in a century - or even a decade?
Firstly, my friend spottyjunglecat, just sent me one of those Facebook quizzes that is totally rigged. Which Gilmore Girl Are You?
Clearly, I am Lorelai (the mother) - he turned out to be Rory. Which is probably the best outcome for both of us. Unlike the Chandler Bing fiasco, I knew from the outset that I would channel the chatty Gen- X Innkeeper from Stars Hollow with nary a pause for breath.
I taught a writing course a few years ago and spent quite a lot of time attempting unsuccessfully to persuade my class that the Gilmore Girls was the best-written drama on television. Ah well.
Afte the Gilmore thing, I tended to my city in the My City application. Despite dissing world-building-type apps. some time ago, this one I can hack. Mainly because the whole thing is out of my hands. As I said to a friend, it grows, out of control like Sea Monkeys or a Chia Pet.
My city is called Inertia and it is a place where nothing ever happens. I modelled it on Perth! Ha! As if! Perth is the most vibrant and exciting capital city that Western Australia has to offer. If you're tired of Perth, you're tired of life, friends. (That didn't sound too obvious, did it?).
Anyhoo, Inertia has 50 or so inhabitants. It grows according to how many people you and your friends add to it. You prosper by helping others cities to grow. It's all about reciprocity. So I thought my 50 plus was rather good until I travelled to the Number 1 city in the My City world. it's called Lanta-sur Mer, the Mayor is Marc Vaudel and city has 49821 inhabitants.
Now THAT is Social Networking.
02 June, 2008
I’ve done a car-swap with a friend for a few days. I usually drive an old Toyota Townace van which is very handy for carrying loads. The friend has loaned me his new, white Volkswagen Polo. Naturally being an ageing Gen-Xer, rather than someone cooler and younger, I felt my masculinity compromised the moment I laid eyes on it.
Any vehicle this size is a Barina to me. A chick car. Your granny’s car. Who knew I had this kind of issue with gender and wheels? I’m shocked at my shallowness and insecurity.
Apart from the psychological damage that I’m feeling from having it parked in my space at the flats where I live, is the actual annoyance of driving it. For reasons best known to the Euro boffins at V-Dub, the wiper and indicator sticks are exactly reversed in placement from the Townace.
So as I take a corner, I either confidently flick the wipers to low or intermittent. Not cool. I was cursing this very problem tonight when I saw that I was following a Volkswagen Golf . After a moment, I found myself admiring its shape and Candy Apple Red paintwork. (Tornado Red according to VW, Australia)
If I’m as Green as I fancy myself to be, I am going to have to do the small car thing eventually – or even – gasp – public transport.
A traffic bridge too far?
01 June, 2008
As counter-intuitive as I find the notion, apparently ‘exercise’ can do you some good. So, lately I have been walking around the fair city of South Perth at a brisk clip. I say brisk, but my brisk is someone else’s 'Cliff Young shuffle'. But I have years of not exercising to undo. From little things big things grow, as Paul Kelly once wrote.
I’ve seen some unexpected things out there in Southy. (Keep in mind that I’m a borderline shut-in. I’ve only just discovered that the age of VHS is over.) On Labouchere Road, at dusk, I saw a taxi-driver kneeling on the verge, next to his cab. He had a prayer mat out and his shoes were placed at the top. A very common thing in some parts of the world, but not what I thought I would see while walking past the South Perth Bowling Club.
Down on Sir James Mitchell Park, I heard a woman take on a couple of male cyclists over their dog. She was walking. I didn’t catch the beginning but I did hear her saying, “You f**king moron!” He replied just eruditely, “Get f**ked!” She said, puzzlingly, “Some people are trying to do the right thing. Just f**king be nice.”
I was walking by the river, along the stretch between Mends Street Jetty and the Narrows Bridge when I saw a guy riding along the bike path with his arms wide open as though he was on stage, accepting massive applause. “Look, Ma, no hands,” as my Father would say. I thought he might be doing it to impress a woman who was walking up ahead of me, but as he rode past her I figured that he was just an exhibitionist making an entrance. He doubled back and started talking to the woman. I was only about five metres behind them and I attempted to eavesdrop. Did he know her? Was he a pest on two wheels?
I was trying to work it out when I noticed that a dolphin was swimming next to us. It was quite near the retaining wall, only about ten feet away, maximum. Its grey fin cut through the surface. As it rose, I could see its blowhole and its long-snout from above. A young Mum and Dad with a kid in a stroller were on the path, going the opposite direction to Bikeman, the Woman and me. Mum said, “Is that a Dolphin?” Dad agreed it was. I thought, should I take a snap of this on my phone for my blog? but then thought, no why don’t I enjoy this unmediated by technology? Thanks to uni that’s the sort of sentence I say in my head, unfortunately. Anyhow, I was feeling pure. Zen. I was part of all things. All things were part of me. The dolphin had conferred upon me a kind of resonance with the Universe. You know the drill. That’s what dolphins do, man.
The Woman said, “Are you getting this?” to Bikeman. And indeed, he had his phone out, getting footage. While still riding his bike. Mum had one eye on husband who was pushing the stroller. Suddenly, Dad shouted out a loud, Oi! at Mum. Because she wasn’t watching her step and nor was Bikeman watching his. Bikeman came within a metre of running into Mum and pitching her into river. She probably would have had a good shot at landing on the dolphin.
Sure, it’s a story about what didn’t happen, but sometimes that’s good, too.