Thousands of Avatar fans have reported feeling depressed and even suicidal at the prospect of never being able to visit the mystical planet depicted in the movie.
I say, Let them suicide, it's practically natural selection.
Are we really expected to take this stuff seriously?
There are people in the world who don't have access to fresh water, people. Get a grip!
or... is this marketing spin dreamed up by the advertising boofs?
Yes, yes I am gay. Yes, I'm sure. Yes, very sure. Don't like girls, you see. I mean, I like them and all, very nice a lot of them. But, I don't "like them." If you know what I mean. Not attracted to them. Yes, I have tried it. Yes, more than once. You don't know how they know, if they don't try it? So, you've had a same sex experience yourself? No, I don't, actually, know what you mean. I just wondered how you could be certain yourself, you know, if you haven't tried.
Yes, I get that a lot. I'm not exactly sure what a gay man looks like. Well, seems like, then. No, I can't always tell. It would be handy, wouldn't it, although I'm not sure where you'd set the parameters? Yes, they do make a big deal of it. Secret handshake and the like. Nod. Wink. I think they mean it is a look, we give each other. Or, at least, one gives another. Yes, all in the eyes. So they say. No, it doesn't work every time. Don't know, it just doesn't. I don't think tags would be appropriate, no.
Show tunes? No, not especially. I do have a good eye for colour, but no, I couldn't blow wave your hair for you. Sew, hem, darn, no, I don't have any of those skills. I don't even know what two of them are?
No, I don't have a problem with it. No, no problem. I'm quite fine with it. It is who I am, after all. No, I wouldn't take the pill. No, no therapy either. There is nothing wrong with me, you see. No, nothing.
Normal? What is normal? What would you say? An example? Just one? Oh?
An attentive ear for a woman? Well, I'm listening to you aren't I, despite the blood
Shane left his stash. His grandma died and he had to head up to the country. So, I spent the day in bed stoned. I can't be trusted, he knows that.
I got up and updated my virus software. I had to buy a whole new licence because my old one was expired by twelve days and not the cheaper renewal option. It was the last thing that I forgot when I left. What gives? And why are those sites so user unfriendly. Of course, I never read any of the instructions, but they should know that. I should just have to follow the links, not hard work. And not too damn many of them, either. I haven't got all day/ Lets go, boom, blam, bing!
Then I rolled a spliff and went back to bed until late afternoon. At which time, I rolled another joint.Naturally.
I cancelled my mother until tomorrow, good thing I went to see her first, when I got back to Melbourne, last night. Kind of a visit in the bank. She cooked me diner and I had a shower. It was like the final big rest stop on the road home.
I played with my photos. I took phots all the way up to NSW and all the way back. You know, to amuse myself, on the drive, to give me something to do, being on my own. I even took one as I left up the Bolago driveway.
There was a crazy, psychopathic truck driver following me for some time. I flew along in front of him on the down hills, him right behind me, losing him on the long, hilly sections. A bit later, I stopped on the side of the road on a long flat stretch coming out of the hilly section, to take some sunset scenes. I'd forgotten about him. The sun had just dipped behind the horizon, and it was dark, and desolate, except for the glorious colours in the sky. And suddenly, he was at the end of the straight stretch behind me, bright eyes blinking on in the dark. It was like a scene in "Duel," me getting back in the car and speeding off before he could catch me.
There's a picture of the water I drowned the car in. And a hot son at a waterfall, look at his bulge. The front view from the house. Then there's a collection of buildings along the way. It's a shame I never got the "sign for rent" sign. Mark and Luke on Kings Beach. There's a lot of clouds in the sky, I kind of went mad on them. The balcony I read on for the afternoon when the car was first being fixed. There were a lot I missed; a car up my arse, or just too slow to register in time.
I haven't left my room.
David says I should watch Grey Gardens, Drew Barrymore, Jessica Lange. He says it's great, but his taste is unforgivingly Disney.
I've poured a vodka.
Did I tell you that I slipped in for the last of the cooked breakfast? Back at the hotel, yesterday, after I nearly cried? The courtesy car delivered me across the arid waste lands of Dubbo in time, for it's last hurrah. I remember the lights were being turned off as I walked in.
Well, this morning, when I wasn't crying and could eat the whole breakfast menu, don't you think I scampered my arse down there by 7.15. I'd left the car at the dealer, I didn't have to go anywhere. I was met with a note stuck to the door crookedly and darkness.
Dear customers, due to a family emergency, Carol, our cook, has had to leave town and as we were unable to find a replacement. I'm sorry but we won't be able to serve breakfast this morning.
I was hoping for death, otherwise Carol should been in that kitchen cooking for me.
Did I tell you that yesterday morning I stood first thing at the toilet and pissed and farted and diarrhea spilt down the back of my leg, before all of my faculties were anywhere near awake. That chicken chow mien? This is not going well, I thought.
I had the same thought this morning, as I read the note stuck to the door.
"Oh, well, I see," I said as I turned towards somewhere else.
I've got everything with me, being a Virgo and not trusting of the cleaners, so I head outside to a cafe.
OMG! Coffee the perpetual drama. I don't know what you think this is, but please don't call it coffee, was so often my reaction. Swill, water with a strange taste, hot water... a hot beverage, I don't know. I can't describe some of them. Thank god I'm back in Fitzroy.
The thick, hot sun light was already threatening to go to bake when I stepped out into the street. Not yet 7.30 the landscape had the eerie feeling of once having catered for humans, but for some reason they had all disappeared. There is always the hint of threat with early morning, the threat that very soon the unnatural silence is about to be spoiled.
To my surprise the nearest cafe/bakery served a passable coffee. She didn't catch the small, but she brewed a long black from the machine, no added water. I didn't know what to call it when I went inside for my second, but she said that I had the black coffee, answering my suspicions about the state of her hearing.
I sat outside, one of the tables was still in the relative shade of the high peak of one of the few heritage builds still standing in the street.
As luck would have, there appeared two cute, obvious, brothers, the genetic gift apparent. Long shorts, t-shirts. They walked up with the older one's mousey girlfriend and some shopping. They all got coffees. Now, if it had just been the older brother with the girlfriend, I would have been just as happy to gaze across my coffee at him, but the younger brother, woof. Too cute. Especially when he leant across the table, which he did at varying times, and the black elastic band of his jocks showed and the top half of his black jocks hugging his cheeks slid out of his shorts.
There's gonna be a jail break, said the back of his t-shirt. And I reckon he could just about cause one.
Soldier on with Codral soldier on, I thought.
Somewhere before 9.30, the dealership rang to say the car was ready. The courtesy bus picked me up ten minutes later. The price was good. The manager was his smiling, efficient self. No trouble, he said, after I thanked him. The GTI sounded like his normal self, as I started the engine. His tail wagged and we were off.
I drove in two hour blocks, that way I didn't get too tired.
I went back to a coffee shop in Narrandera, Cafe G, because I reckon the two boys who run it are gay. Oh, they have to be gay.
Narrandera is pretty. I sat out side and had a short black and a muffin to break the trip. The sun was shining down brightly, it was hot, I had a tree for shade. I was right by the pedestrian crossing. The morning glided gently into afternoon.
This big, blond, overalled hunk, the type you get only when there is wide open spaces and their mother's feed them lots of whole milk and beef, came across the crossing.
Messy hair, stubble on his face, blue eyes, tanned and handsome.
He caught my gaze, he saw me looking at him.
Oops, I thought. Maybe, too obvious for a country town?
Big country smile. "G'day."
"Hi, how are you?" I replied.
"I'm hot," he said.
"Yeah..." I quickly glanced to the sky, then looked back at him. You certainly are. "It's hot."
I watched him go. Would I say he swaggered or sauntered? I'm not sure. He headed to a blue ute with a Kelpie waiting patiently on the tray back.
West Wyalong. Findley. Both pretty. Tocumwal looked scenic by the lake. The country side changes from mountainous at Tenterfield, colourful through Armadale right through to Dubbo. After that it is farmland, paddocks, sheep. It was scorching hot by Shepparton, my right arm is burnt. To what were rolling green hills down the Hume, which are now, of course, rolling brown hills.
How many speed cameras are there on the Hume Hwy? That's ridiculous! Do the police, actually, do any work anymore, you know like policing dangerous drivers? Or is it just machines now?
What the hell happened to the Hume Hwy? It's completely changed. It's a freeway into Melbourne, with Blue Sticks as the entrance. Gone are the miles of barren wasteland, the industry, the ugliness. The gazillion sets of traffic lights. Talk about cosmetic surgery. When the hell did all that happen?
Remember, I left for Lismore from Bolago. I haven't driven up the Hume from Melbourne for years.
You know poor old Carol, I feel mean. When I did arrive at the last minute, when she had turned off all the lights, she still went and got me an orange juice, some milk and a spoon. And put the lights back on. She even sympathised with my car troubles. Oh yes, I gave her the full sob story, curled bottom lip, the works.
Here I am in Dubbo. Nice place, I can't wait to leave. Actually, it's yobbo central. The type of place that every second word the girls say is 'mate.' Not even pretty yobbos on the whole, either. Not that I'm looking much, good way to get a smack in the mouth. There are a couple I have spied though, strapping country lads with handsome faces, tanned and glowing and hot arses and packed jeans. Thick legs, open smiles.
The car wasn't so good when I went to pick it up, yesterday.
"Ah, don't know mate. Now the helle-pot, this jigger here is playin up," said Les. "It beats me, it was fine this morning."
"Oh," I say. Come on Les, don't let me down now. I'm sure my eyes were pleading.
"Ya best bet is drivin it to Dubbo to the Peugeot mechanic."
What????????????? "Oh, okay. So..." head starting to spin... "it's okay to drive?"
"Well, she's runnin on three cylinders." Les ran his hand through his greying beard. "But, I haven't got the part, don't know when I'd get it either."
"Oh." Fucking hell! "Well, sure, if that's my only option?"
"Yeah. Jeez. I reckon, mate. Sorry."
Les was great, don't get me wrong. Nice guy, helped me a lot.
"I tells ya, she must fly when she's running properly, cause she goes alright now, even on three cylinders."
"Yes, she does fly," I said. "How far is Dubbo?"
"Oh, about 100 ks."
What????????? "So, it'll be alright?"
"Yeah, that far," said Les. "And when you get back to Melbourne, you get all the oils replaced, that's what I'd recommend."
So, I drove the 100 ks on 3 cylinders and "she" - I've always thought of my car as male, if I thought about it at all - did go just fine. I don't know what that does to an engine, nothing, I hope.
I was a little stressed, I must say. At one point, it poured with rain and the road pooled with water again. After which, I smoked a cigarette for the first time ever in my car. I have to admit, I tossed the butt out the window. Head hung in shame. But, the place is fucken flooded!
Then the sun came out again and the sky turned bright blue with Simpson's clouds.
I was more stressed when I found out the alleged Peugeot mechanic is actually a Subaru Honda Jeep Hyundai Peugeot dealership. Fuck! I'd never take my car to a dealer and had a good out come. City Peugeot killed any confidence I had in them. Grrr! They don't care. Take a number. Yes, we can do it middle of next week, if the part gets here. Sorry, but I don't give a shit. The walls started to close in. Maybe, I was just tired. But, still 12 hours from home. It's now costing me more than if I'd bought the most expensive air ticket.
Why, oh why, did I drive through that flooded water????????????
So Dubbo. I decided to stay right in town. I found the 2 motels that Shane found on the internet in Melbourne for me, via mobile, just on the outskirts. But, I don't know, motels creep me out, just a bit. It's like staying in your own little cell removed from everyone else. A carpark the only thing in common. So, I decided that I was going to stay right in town, right in the heart of it. That's where you should stay, I reckon, if you are going to stay some where.
As I checked in to the Amaroo the nice check in girl said, "It's karaoke night tonight, I hope that won't disturb you."
"No." I laughed. "It's hardly likely to go until 3am, hey?"
"Actually, it does." She laughed.
The bars and lounges were full, full of twenty somethings, thirty somethings, mum dad and the kids, (there were a few hot eighteen year olds, let me tell you, with their mum and dads.) all pumped for a good time. People were in the main street drinking, and loitering and yahooing and doing burnouts all night. It had an air of King Street on a Saturday night. I was a bit surprised, the place was jumping.
I got the car to the mega dealership just after 8am. I pleaded to be my case. "I'm on my way back to Melbourne and I've got a sick Peugeot."
The service guy looked to, who was clearly, the manager who gave a subtle nod.
"If you just wait a minute, the manager will help you."
The manager listened to my case and asked for the keys and said to take a seat in the waiting room. Then he was in the car and it was around in the service centre in no time.
The manager was one of those well manicured, efficient types who clearly had the running of that mega cartropolis in the palm of his hand. He ran, he didn't walk.
Fifteen minutes he appeared in the waiting room.
Grimace. "How long were you planing to stay in Dubbo?"
"I wasn't planing to stay here at all."
"Oh, um, well, I don't have the part for you car," he said. Sad look. "But," smile "I could have it here at 8am in the morning and we could get you back on the road as soon as we can after that."
Now, I must have been a little more stressed than I realised, because it took every gram of energy I had not to burst into tears right there in front of him. I so didn't want to do that in a country town.
I'm allowed anyway, I'm a big poof.
I wanted to leap across the room and kiss him. "That's great! Thanks."
He beamed.
I left the car and took a ride in their curtesy bus back into Yobbo, um, er, Dubbo.
"Thank you very much," I said as I left. "You are just great."
He beamed again.
