I finally got rid of Optus. After months of forgetting, last night a moved my phone number across to AAPT prepaid. It's such a wonderful sense of freedom. After years and years of $30 bills, I've finally got an incentive to use the phone less. Good stuff.

I couldn't think of anything from Windows.

David is a total geek. I'm sure glad I'm not like that.

I'm building a web interface to help people restore their backups. It's really cool. Lots of the people might use it. rdiff-backup is so cool. I think I need to add it to the list of software type things that give me that nice, contented feeling in my stomach.

Mum and I went to by some Cointreau the other day. But it was too expensive, so we bought some wine instead. We went to pay, and got into a conversation with the guy at the desk. He's the son of the woman who seems to own the shop. He was telling us all about wine and spirit excise tax, managing to turn a boring sort of subject into a lively discussion. Mum asked him what sort of wine he drunk at home. He said he didn't drink anything because he still lived with his mum and she didn't like him drinking. Mum and I both chuckled. It's like a Catholic family selling condoms or something.

And I think the only kind of stupidity is the kind that's chosen. A smart lass

I've walked/run heaps the last few days. Or heaps for me at least. - running with Thomas just for fun - walked from Circular Quay to Darlinghurst to get to church - walked home from Hornsby after Rough Edges - walked from the City to Bronte Beach for Jo's birthday picnic - walked from the Art Gallery to Darlinghurst and back with Gem

I haven't had a huge amount of sleep. I'm a bit sick for the first time in yonks. I was just thinking yesterday how rarely I've been sick lately. I used to get sick every couple of of months. When I was a little tike.

I went to the Peru Exhibition at the Australian Museum. It wasn't very good, but it brought back nice memories of wandering through uninteresting museums in Peru. This exhibition was really a big collection of pots and jewelry. There were a few of photos too, which were interesting.

Then we went and had some drinks at the Darlo Bar, which is even nicer than I remember. It has a good atmosphere. You don't always have women coming up to you and hitting on you. Not like most pubs. So it's just more relaxed.

When mum, dad and I went up to Hardy's Bay on Saturday, Raj ran off for a few hours and got lost. We were pretty worried, but some guy told us he was waiting in someone's garage round the bay a bit. So we had to go and pick him up. He was so frightened when we found him. I think it's funny that the chicken is more adventurous and independant than the dog. The chicken went away for weeks, and then found her own way home. I guess some animals are just more clever than others.

So far today I've been for a run with Tom, and a swim with Robyn and Janet, and in a moment I'm going canoeing with Ryan. Tom and I ran even faster than last time, and I felt like crap at the end. I did three full laps of the pool and a whole lot of half laps stuck together. And I felt like crap at the end. I don't like exercise very much. Although canoeing is good because it isn't so tiring. And when you do get tired you can stop and drift for a while, and people just think you're admiring the scenery. You can't do that at a public pool. Or at least, it's less convincing.

I think I might have to hang Janet's clothes now.

We're going to go to Tracy Moffat this afternoon. Last time I went, there was a whole level of Tracy that I missed entirely. And I didn't even get a good look at the levels I did find.

Then we (royal we - Janet is doing other things) have Rough Edges. Yay. Rough Edges is good fun. I like cleaning the toilets with gloves and industrial chemicals thinking about all the TTDs (Toilet Transmitted Diseases) I might be getting rid of.

Discovery of the Day Muesli tastes much better if you have a mouthful of plum between mouthfuls of muesli.

Tonight is a quieter night at home. There is less thunder for a start. And I haven't been to any films or dinner parties so far. I played Ghost Recon for a little while. Then I watched Hewi and Nada play tennis for a while. Now I'm cooking some dinner. I've stuffed up the eggplant again. I always put too much salt or too little salt. Or leave it for too long, or not long enough. It's a fine art. It's for the curry pasta. I'm not sure if you're meant to put curry with pasta. I'll probably find out soon. Although it's never definitive with me. Sometimes it just means that I shouldn't put curry with pasta. In general it might be quite a good idea, but when I'm cooking it's an exception.

I'm a bit jealous of girlfriends and boyfriends and husbands and wives who have gambling addictions and the like. You must have to love someone so much to stay with them even when they're stealing you're stuff to pay debts and forgetting to pick up the kids. You can say it only happens in unhealthy relationships - that you'd only stay if you were insecure - but I don't think it's that straight-forward. I think that sensible un-messed-up people stay and fall in love with all sorts of silly folk. Silliness is always a matter of degree. Maybe that's why people like Leaving Las Vegas. They must really haved liked each other a lot to stay. Which makes it all the more romantic. Hmm. I don't remember it being romantic.

We're going to Hardy's Bay. I don't really want to. At least I'll get to go for a swim.

Update: It started storming. So we didn't swim. But we pulled up a lot of carpet.

I say tops a lot. I reckon it's because so much stuff is tops.

Mum has just left to go out with Cherylyn (which I can't spell). I don't have any internet. Or the car. Or even any money, because mum took my last $20. I could go and get some more from the ATM, but it seems more adventurous if I pretend like I can't.

It's interesting trying to think of cool things to do when you have no friends, internet or car. Andy was going to go to a club, but clubs are kind of intimidating. Which is normally OK. But tonight I feel like comfortable. So self-indulgent. I should be out there revelling in the intimidation damn it. Confronting demons doesn't count for shit if you don't do it on quiet nights too.

I started a list of cool things to do. So far I have: -cook something for dinner (except I already have heaps of left-overs) -turn the music up louder than I would if mum was here -read The Economist -watch the ABC -play single player games -go for jog -brush my teeth straight after dinner and just lie on a couch in the living room enjoying the feeling -do somersaults down the hallway (optionally with cushions from the couch I mentioned above, lining the walls (to prevent injury)) -donn gumboots. go outside into the street. hope it rains enough to make the gumboots worthwhile. -ring up ex-girlfriends and have heart to hearts with them -write letters to nasty corporations, suggesting, in the nicest language possible, that they change their ways -vacuum and dust the house (optionally with a dust pan and broom to make the thrill last longer) -reply to some emails (or at least write to people who I can remember have written to me, since I won't be able to read their actual email) -finally ring that girl from David's party -blog into Textpad

So, as you can see, the evening is shaping up to be pretty exciting. And stuff.

The microwave has just finished. Dinner's ready. I'm tempted to take it out of the 4L ice cream container and put it on a plate, but there's no one here to see me.

There's nothing quite as delicious as two different nights' leftovers, woven together into the one glorious feast. I had to mix them together, because Sunday night's Govinda's had no rice, and Tuesday night's spinach and chickpea had too much rice. Even better, there's no table cloth.

I totally forgot the most likely evening activity. Which would be: -wash up

I might start with that one in fact.

The horizon is so good right now.

What a tops storm. I looked for some gumboots but couldn't find any. So I just ran out in bare feet. But then I got scared and came back and waited in the garage for a little while. I remembered that I had to finish the washing up before Tom got here, so I didn't wait long.

There wasn't much washing up, and there's still a sink full of hot piping water. It seems a shame just to leave it there. I could wash the dog. But detergent might be bad for his skin.

I took some photos of the lightning. I sure hope the flash works.

Tom inviting me to the pictures has thrown a spanner in the evening's works. He's here. Got to go.

We went to see Underworld. It was fun. But very silly. Anmol and David came too.

Scenes and lines from Kill Bill keep popping into my head. It's such a tops film I reckon. It might be up there amongst my many second-favourites.

I'm still reading The Orchid Thief. It's so slow. Interesting but slow. It reminds a bit of the posts that Howie and I did about Tinku's adventure in Appin. Every conceivable tangent is followed to it's death.

People who try and be friendly to the opposite sex even when they aren't interested in them are very brave. And it's sad when people get confused. Because it makes it harder and harder to keep being friendly. I suggested this to Tom on our holiday. I used to say pooh pooh at the idea of arm touching, but I'm starting to wonder if it has an important part to play. If touching someone's arm was the one and only code for "I think you're really tops" then it frees up all sorts of other friendly things, like hugs and smiles, for being just friends. You could avoid so much trauma. If I think you're good, then I'll touch your arm. If you think I'm good back then you'll touch mine. Then we both know and we don't need to pretend any more. If I touch your arm, and you don't touch mine then I know you're not interested. And we can stop right there. No crazy conversations with mutual friends. It's so simple. Except I reckon people like it complicated. Because often they're not sure who they think is tops, or precisely how tops. And often they want to act like they think someone's tops just to feel good.

Do you say "poo poo" or "pooh pooh"? I think parents say "poo poo" to their toddlers when they're toilet training them. And "pooh pooh" is the noise that posh people make when something upsets them.

The books I ordered for Newcastle Library have finally showed up. They're a bit late.

AUTHOR: Coetzee, J. M.,
TITLE: Elizabeth Costello
CALL NO: 823.914 COET-1 ELIZ 2003
BARCODE: E017 392 195
LOCATION: Auchmuty - Book
PICKUP AT: Auchmuty BY: 02-02-04

AUTHOR: Power, Samantha A problem from hell : America and the CALL NO: 304.663 POWE BARCODE: E017 392 209 LOCATION: Auchmuty - Book PICKUP AT: Auchmuty BY: 02-02-04

AUTHOR: Hedges, Chris War is a force that gives us meaning CALL NO: 355.02 HEDG BARCODE: E017 391 989 LOCATION: Auchmuty - Book PICKUP AT: Auchmuty BY: 02-02-04

Wow. SOAP is so good. Especially with PEAR::SOAP. So easy and convenient. And I've just written a little class that lets you automatically serialise any object over SOAP. Without any shenanigans at all. How tops is that. I don't think it would work very well with other languages.

There are so many things to get excited about in the world. Econometrics, web services, frisbee. So much.

Update: I take it all back.

Last night was tops. We had some great lightning and thunder. There was a cool match of tennis between the amiable Phillipoussis and the snotty Fabrisse (he spat at a linesman). Then I switched channels to into the middle of a nice film called Needing You. It wasn't really about anything. It was just a romance. And it didn't have any kissing. Even at the end. It's not that kissing is bad. It's just clever of them to be able to make a good romance without and kissing.

The problem was, that just as the movie was reaching the climax - with the boat leaving and the big "I need you" signs on the wharf - the one-day test between Australia and India was finishing too. And it was such a close match. In about 30 minutes we lost 3 wickets. We had to get 11 runs off the last over. Lee and Bichel were in the poor buggers, and Lee got a six on the third last ball of the game, and then a single to win. It was so tense. I had to keep switching channels between the too, which normally annoys me.

Mum and I cleaned. Then Erin and I caught up (but no frisbee (I forgot it)). We spent almost an hour talking about her crazy and fascinating love-life. Then Adam came and flirted with the girls he'd with him brought from work.

We went swimming again this morning. And and and I did my first full freestyle lap of the pool ever. Yay. So chuffed. But I still feel a bit puffed and that was 2 hours ago. Dear oh dear.

The more you experience The less you know. The sage wanders without knowing, Looks without seeing, Accomplishes without acting. - Some Zen lad

There is so much lightning and thunder, but no rain at all. The streets are almost completely dry. And you can walk around outside with socks on. It's kind of how I imagine armageddon will be. Dark and dry, but with big loud lights in the sky.

Turkish delight is tremendously squishy. But it's not squishy like a lot of things. It's squishy like the bit of your hip that's just below your pelvis. Firmer than normal muscley bits, but squishy in it's own unique way. I like turkish delight, except when it tastes like soap. Like the green stuff mum gave me for christmas.

So relieved. I thought I was going to have to do economics without social science.

Robyn, mum and I went swimming this morning. I managed to do 10 traversals of the pool using various unconventional methods. My best effort was a 3/4 lap doing proper freestyle. But by then my mouth was totally full of water and I had to stop for a moment to cough and splutter. One of the squad leader people watched me and laughed. Well. I assume they laughed. I know they were when my head was down. Lousy squad leaders.

There was a funny fat man who had the best, splashiest tumble turns. Both his legs would do a huge flip and come smashing down into the water at the same time. He took it very seriously and thrust vigorously with his arms. He reminded me a bit of Hannah for some reason. The vigorousness perhaps.

Blogging has been down lately. It's a bit sad. I've been hopeless. We need to get James onto the Blog Water Hole.

Should "Water Hole" be one word? Perhaps I should ask a bison, next time I see one.

Some savvy criminals use the strict pursuit guidelines to their advantage by switching off headlights, deliberately crossing to the wrong side of the road, running red lights and travelling at more than twice the speed limit. In each case police must call off the chase.

The car chase I was in went much faster than double the speed limit. It was an 80km zone and we were going at least 200km/hr. We went onto the wrong side of the road a lot too. Although the guy wasn't driving "recklessly" I don't think, so maybe that is more important to them. I still think the police car should have called off the chase. Especially since when he got caught, they didn't even take his keys from him.

In the article they say that they can't ban people from driving for too long (10 or 20 years), because they just ignore it. But that seems silly. You can enforce it if you want to. You can put people in prison who drive without a licence. I guess then you have a much higher prison population, and it screws up the drivers' lives even more. But crashing into other cars at 220km/hr tends to mess up those people's lives as well.

I would like it if there were more speed cameras. And if the cameras had big Spiderman Car-Catcher Web Nets™ attached to them, that could be launched at speeding cars. Or you could just increase fines. Anyone with a fast car (unless it's stolen) has a good job. Can't the government just take money out of their pay? There's probably some civil rights argument against that. And I suppose civil rights are kind of important.

David Hackman rang me to congratulate me. He saw my name in the paper. I didn't know we got our name in the paper, so I went out and bought one. I looked up me and Jem, and we were both there. I looked up Chris, but all I could see was "C Simpson". I went to check what course he'd gotten into, because it might tell me which Simpson it was. What's really weird is that this "C Simpson" got into the exact course that I wanted to get into but didn't. I have to ring them up and find out what happened. The cutoff for the course I got into is higher.

"Labor will always put the national interest first and that means keeping our labour market free of organised rackets that rely on illegal and exploited workers," he says.

Total nob.

An illegal workers' strike force would be set up in the department with the power to raid suspect workplaces. - SMH

Yay. Go on strike illegal workers. I'll come to your rally. Sadly, I don't think this is what they mean.

UAC number: 94101*****   Name: RYAN ******

As at: 19/01/2004

You have received the following offer in the Main Round for study in 2004.

Before posting this post I had 2303 posts, which was my postcode in Newcastle.

Capitalism is killing people. African-American men are 40% more likely to die from cancer than white men. That's pretty crap.

I wish I thought that:

• God had a plan
• All you needed was love
• Pacifism worked
• Relationships could be saved by a phone call to Richard Mercer
• Economics wasn't the funnest and most interesting thing since sliced bread

About 5,000 people marched in Paris wielding French and Islamic flags, along with banners denouncing the ban that French President Jacques Chirac and most of the country's politicians favour.

Only 5000. I'm surprised. This is a fascinating issue - I still don't know what I think. Most countries probably haven't ever tried to confront something this nuanced, so it's more complex than a lot of race-based stuff.

Visual cultural identification probably foster racial vilification. And tend to make Europeans more aware that they are no longer surrounded by only Europeans. Racial acceptance might grow more gently and sustainably if people weren't forced to confront their fears. In American History X Edward Norton didn't confront his fears. But when he was placed in a non-threatening situation where being racist began to look stupid, he eventually changed without even trying.

But that said, one man's racial discrimination isn't another's fashion choice. It's the same argument we use against Muslims and their "oppression" of women. It probably isn't more practical for women to wear less flattering clothing. It probably significantly alters the war men relate towards them. But that doesn't alter the fact that, ultimately, it's the men's responsibility and not the women's.

That's one flaky argument. I think they cancel each other out. Saying you can't wear something, in the interests of the public good, isn't any different to saying you must wear something.

People complain about the homogenisation of society and all that, but I think there are probably bigger issues at stake. If I had to choose between peace and diversity, I think I'd choose peace. Lots of things we do further homogeneity. Psychology is pretty much solely focused on it. Politics is too. Why is "consensus" a good word and "homogenous" a bad one? Milk is homogenised. That's unrelated, but funny.

If there was a campaign to allow women to attend public schools wearing only underwear, would these same protesters be protesting in favour of it - in favour of the right to wear anything? What would happen if a man wore a headscarf? What if the president banned women from wearing any sort of top on hot days? Very floppy hats? What about sexy, silk headscarves?

Clothing is all about hiding nudity and Muslim women are only a tiny bit less nude and everyone else. Although that isn't the reason headscarves are being banned. It's about what else they symbolise. If they were about nothing more than decency, there would be no problem. If there is a successful ban for a few decades, then it will probably be lifted eventually.

I think that if the Christian church mandated the wearing of crosses, I'd be in favour of a ban. I guess modern conceptions of what is truly valuable don't encompass ornamental symbols. If they are mandated then we assume there must be something compulsive or oppressive going on. If a parent forced a child to wear a headscarf we wouldn't tolerate it. If a whole community of parents forced their children to wear it we wouldn't tolerate it. And a secular state probably shouldn't humour a recognised religion any more than it does any random community of people.

If young girls weren't forced to wear them, but later chose to, there would be no problem with them. The fact that the focus is on schools perhaps suggests that this is one of the reasons. It gives young Muslim girls a way of standing up to their parents.

I don't know if it's a good thing. I don't like the sound of it. It might force Muslim girls out of the school system. Parents who are so attached to it, that they'd prevent their children from going. You can say that if the scarf is more important than education, then it really has gone too far, but it's young girls who will be ultimately affected.

I have no idea.

You can tell the chicken is getting old. She's taken to spending long periods of time just staring in through random windows of the house. As opposed to staring out windows like old humans. I guess it's going to be slightly different for chickens. We're telling ourselves it's just a phase, but the doctors aren't able to make any promises.

Last night when I was walking home from the station I stopped at the railway bridge to watch the steel train going by underneath. There was carriage after carriage filled with solid steel beams. Very cool. But while I was standing there a police car stopped in the middle of the rode and whooped their siren at me. They asked me what I was doing. I said I was watching the train. They asked me if I was thinking of throwing my self onto it. I said I wasn't. They weren't convinced, but they drove off anyway. I walked off thinking about how nice it was that police care enough to question random people on bridges, just to check if they're depressed and/or suicidal.

We canoed. And it was good.

Dad and I are going canoeing. It will be some quality sunburn time between a father and the son who hardly ever sees him.