This is the interesting and exciting blog of Christop - one of the 84 000-or-so people of Ballarat.

Thursday, September 25, 2003

This morning I took my parents' computer apart to try and fix the power button.
Basically, the little, plastic disc with marked with the 0 with the 1 inside it is actually just a sort of cover for the actual button, which is a tiny, black, plastic box with a little shaft sticking out of it. When you press the botton-covery-thing, that pushes the little shaft into the box, creating a spark that somehow starts the computer up.
What seemed to have happened was that someone had pressed the button to hard, pressing the button into the computer and causing the cover to fall out. It was imposible to turn the computer on without sticking a pencil or somthing in.
So I took the front of the computer and a whole heap of little pits of folded up apper fell out. I had no idea why. I fitted it all back together. But when I tested the button it fell apart again. Noticed the part that was meant to hold the button in plce had been broken. Decided to superglue it in. Couldn't find superglue.
So I decided to call my parents and find out if there was actually any superglue in the house. The answer was no; Mum doesn't like it. But I did find out why there was paper inside the computer. Justin had tried to use it to hold the switch in.
Anyway, I went up to the supermarket and got some five-minute araldyte, mixed it up, and used that to stick the switch back in. You're probably not meant to do that, but it works now.

Tuesday night, about 8:20, I arrived at Spencer Street Station, in Melbourne, the world's most liveable city (but so is Vancouver). Melbourne also has the world's worst suicide statistics.
At the moment, Spencer Street Station is being redeveloped for the Commonwealth Games. It all looks very nice and it will be good to be able to travel between Ballarat or Bendigo and Melbourne in only an hour. But the redevelopment also means that I had to drag my suitcase all the way up a huge flight of steps.

Waiting the platform for the Belgrave train, I noticed that a lot of the other people had been at the Royal Melbourne Show. The girl sitting next to me was complaining to her boyfriend about how disappointing it had been. But what about the six different worlds?! I couldn't help but think.
If you are thinking of going, may I suggest you just go to the Dandenong Show - or some other local show - instead? It will cost you a lot less to get in, it won't be as crowded, and since you'll be probably expecting it to be not all that good, you'll be pleasantly surprised.

When I got off the Belgrave train, I went to the public telephone to call a taxi, because it was just starting to rain. However, I found that the phone there no longer takes coins - just phone cards.
So I started walking. The rain stopped. And then when I was about two-thirds of the way home it started pouring, worse than it has while I was outside in Ballarat during the just-past Winter. So I was completely saturated pretty quickly. The good thing was that I no longer had to worry about the rain coming back and me getting wet. Anyway, when I only had about ten minutes more to walk, Greg drove past in his land rover, picked me up and drove me the rest of the way to the house, where he's also staying at the moment.

This afternoon [well, yesterday] I went to visit an old friend. I walked about half an hour to their house, knocked on the door a few times, but no-one answered. Maybe my grandma just couldn't hear me.
So I walked to Knox City and did some shopping. Got some sunglasses and a t-shirt. The sunglasses are exactly the same as the last two pairs I bought. The first pair got sat on and broke. So I bought another pair. The second pair got sat on also. So I got Justin to turn the two sat-on pairs into one good pair. Which I eventually sat on also. But there were stillenough spare parts to repair the sunglasses, until these were also sat on.

Tonight [Wednesday still] James, Cookie, Wob and I had tea at La Porchetta in Boronia. Surprise surprise - Laz and his girlfriend were having tea there also. Laz said he thinks I should be in the next Star Wars film.

Tuesday, September 23, 2003

Okay, so it's Tuesday and I'm not in Melbourne yet. That's 'cause I had to work yesterday and have to again today. But tonight I'm going to Melbourne.

Antiskeptic's new album, Aurora, although not as good as Memoirs of a Common Man, is very good. Choice tracks: 'Clear to Pass', 'Nothing to Say' & 'Beautiful in White.

George of the Jungle 2 is the worst film I've ever seen in my entire life. Four of the five other people watching it, including the person who hired it, fell asleep. So don't you dare see it.

Friday, September 19, 2003

I managed to write the second half of this between getting back to Ballarat at 1:30 this morning and going to bed at 4:00 am.


Bil and Tatiana Leonid were under a tree just outside of town having a picnic on the nice, spring day that the nuclear reactor exploded.
Within a week they had left Ukraine and the Soviet Union, abandoning their farm, and were on a ship headed for a city on the other side of the world.

Osman was different to the other kids. His skin was covered in red and purple blotches, so bold they even showed through his thin, fair hair. Osman’s moist eyes didn’t match in colour. Neither did his legs match in length. His right shoe had a five-centimetre-thick sole to compensate. His left hand had only three fingers. Osman was so unfit he couldn’t walk the distance of the school soccer field without stopping for a good breather. It was as though God had been playing around with some spare parts and ended up with Osman.

Osman sat on the dry, brown grass at the edge of the soccer field, while the other boys waited to see who’d be picked next. No-one wanted to be last.
‘Ant!’ said Frank.
Ant jumped up and joined Frank’s team.
‘Thien!’ said Vedran.
Thien joined Vedran’s side.
‘Sochet!’ said Frank.
Only Osman was left.
‘You can ‘ave ‘im,’ said Frank.
‘No! You ‘ave ‘im!’ said Vedran.
‘Yous take ‘im, man! We don’t want ‘im,’ Nuri yelled.
‘You wanna fight over it?’ Sochet challenged.
Furry looked over at Osman. A grimace crossed his face. ‘You wanna play, freak?’
Monster. Freak. Mistake. That’s how they saw him. A disfigured mutant.
Looking down at the sunburnt grass in front of him; anger boiling inside his body like an old, corroded saucepan, full of Brussels sprouts, cooking on a stove; Osman shrugged his bony shoulders. A negative.
‘Cool. Let’s play,’ said Furry, looking back to the others.

Furry stole the ball from Thien and dribbled it toward the goal, hoping to kick it past Vedran, between the two garbage bins that marked the goal. As he kicked the ball with his right foot, he felt his left foot pulled by the laces from beneath him and saw the dusty ground rushing up for an impromptu meeting with his face.
Sitting on the grass, Osman couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed so hard he worked himself into a coughing fit, and had to stop and catch his breath.
Thien regained possession of the ball, and started dribbling it back toward Frank’s goal.
Furry sat up and brushed the dirt and crunchy grass from his face, hands and knees. He looked at his shoes and saw that the laces had somehow knotted themselves together.

Thien kicked the ball past Ant, to Sean. Sean dribbled the ball toward Frank’s goal, with Ant close behind him. Suddenly the ball flew up in front of Sean and hit him hard in the face, giving him the feeling that the area around his right eye had turned into rubber.
Osman fell on his side, wheezing with laughter; holding his sides as though his ribs might snap.
Ungainly as he was, Osman could move objects with the power of his mind. Osman was a Chernobylite.
‘Hey freak! Quit laughing!’ yelled Sean as he spun around to face Osman, his face twisted as by the taste of vomit on the back of his tongue.

Ant managed to manoeuvre the ball back up to Vedran’s goal.
Ant didn’t know it, but at the same time he had been concerntrating on passing the ball from one foot to the other; the locations of his team mates and opponents; and his objective, the goal; Osman had been using tendrils of thought to reach out to the ball; securing once again the bond between the nervous impulses of his brain and the atoms that made up the ball; getting a good, firm grip.
Using the power of his mutated mind, Osman took hold of the psychic bond linking his mind to the soccer ball, causing it to jerk unnaturally to the right, away from Ant’s expectant foot, and stop moving. Confused, Ant skidded to an ungraceful halt, his opponent, Nuri, running into him.
Nuri was first to regain his senses. He moved to take possession of the now stationary ball, but as it had with Ant, the ball moved away from the reach of his foot.
‘What the…!’ said Nuri.
He lunged for the ball once again, but Osman pulled it out of the way, while smothering a giggle. Ant went for the ball again, but it evaded him.
Nuri tried one last time: bending his knee, brought his right foot back; swung in forward again, towards the ball; a twisting his ankle, flicking his foot to warp his toe and heel around the ball; connected with it with a painful crunch.
‘Aaaargh!’ Nuri yelled, then began to groan and he sat down and nursed his injured foot.
Osman couldn’t contain his amusement any longer. He burst out in a menacing cackle. He quickly recomposed himself and renewed his supernatural hold on the ball.
Ant poked the ball with his toe. It didn’t roll, like it should have. He pushed it harder. It wouldn’t give. So he knelt gown, gripped the sides of the ball in his bony hands, and with an awful lot of sweat and grunting, tried to lift it from the crackly grass. It was no use. After thirty seconds he collapsed onto the ground in an exhausted heap. Osman’s power was to strong.
Satisfied, Osman released his hold on the ball, with the psychic equivalent of a long, deep sigh. He laughed quietly, all energy spent.

‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ said Frank, motioning toward the Chernobylite.
‘Whadya mean?’ grunted Sean.
‘I dunno,’ said Frank. ‘That freak was some’ow controllin’ the ball.’
‘Ya reckon?’ asked Ant, raising a doubtful eyebrow.
‘How?’ said Thien, with a worried look. ‘That’s not natural, man.’
‘We gotta do something about it,’ said Frank, clenching a fist. ‘Who knows what the monster could do? Just imagine…’

Last night at the 20th annual Students for Christ formal, in Mulgrave, Sounds Like Chicken (a Melbourne skacore band who met at SFC) played. The funny thing was that hardly anyone there knew what skanking was. So almost everyone else seemed to be trying to convince themselves that it was Kylie Minogue, and danced accordingly. It was really quite amusing.

My inner child is sixteen years old today

My inner child is sixteen years old!

Life's not fair! It's never been fair, but while
adults might just accept that, I know
something's gotta change. And it's gonna
change, just as soon as I become an adult and
get some power of my own.

How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thursday, September 18, 2003

Drink driver pretended to be the Pope
A drunk driver claimed spiritual immunity when he was pulled over in Holland by pretending to be the Pope.
The motorist told police he was Pope John Paul II, refused to get out of his car and turned his music up when they stopped him on a road just outside Baarn.

'Quintessential librarian' becomes a divisive doll
A new librarian action figure who wears glasses and an ankle-length skirt and moves her finger to her lips with "amazing push-button shushing action!" is rankling many of her real-life counterparts, who say that shushing is passé.
National Post

I've been sick again for about the last week. Influenza again. But not as bad as last month.

Going to Students for Christ formal tonight, in Melbourne.

Probably spending most of my holidays in Melboure, at my parents' place. They were leaving for the Gold Coast, in Queensland, today.

Tuesday, September 16, 2003

Dveo and Snioa btoh jsut snet me tihs:

    Acocdrnig to an elgnsih unviesitry sutdy the oredr of letetrs in a wrod dosen't mttaer, the olny thnig thta's iopmrantt is that the frsit and lsat ltteer of eevry word is in the crorcet ptoision. The rset can be jmbueld and one is stlil able to raed the txet wiohtut dclftfuiiy.

Monday, September 15, 2003

Asylum seekers more expensive than prisoners: Senator
ABC North West WA

Ausies [sic] best at dog washing
Twelve Sydney University students washed 848 dogs over an eight hour period, easily breaking the record held by students in Holland.


Last night this band called Jairus came and played at my church. They were good, but I'm confused as to why so many Christian bands sound like Hillsong when they do worship music. Okay, maybe it's because Hillsong basically have the market (yes, that's how I see it) cornered.
Another thing that kind of bugged me was the way they'd been kind of presented as a band, when really they're more like a travelling schools-evangelism team, which is more how they're presented on the Gold Coast Youth For Christ website.


Rediscovering my chin
On Saturday I decided to shave off my beard, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my chin was still there. Yesterday I shaved off my sideburns also. Today I might shave my head. But that is extremely unlikely.

Friday, September 12, 2003

Lord of the eschaton
A comparison between Lord of the Rings and extremely garbageous Left Behind series, from Razormouth.

Beatles Sue Apple Computers
Fox News

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Radio Dave plays radio
Today on the steps outside Central Square, I saw Radio Dave, and his radio was actually turned on, blasting out hiphop. Probably on JJJ. I've never seen him with his radio turned on before, he normally just carries it around, or leaves it somewhere he can see it. He must've found a power point.

Li'l Yoda and Mandi are engaged.

Job 28 (MSG)
Where Does Wisdom Come From?
"We all know how silver seams the rocks,
we've seen the stuff from which gold is refined,
We're aware of how iron is dug out of the ground
and copper is smelted from rock.
Miners penetrate the earth's darkness,
searching the roots of the mountains for ore,
digging away in the suffocating darkness.
Far from civilization, far from the traffic,
they cut a shaft,
and are lowered into it by ropes.
Earth's surface is a field for grain,
but its depths are a forge
Firing sapphires from stones
and chiseling gold from rocks.
Vultures are blind to its riches,
hawks never lay eyes on it.
Wild animals are oblivious to it,
lions don't know it's there.
Miners hammer away at the rock,
they uproot the mountains.
They tunnel through the rock
and find all kinds of beautiful gems.
They discover the origins of rivers,
and bring earth's secrets to light.

"But where, oh where, will they find Wisdom?
Where does Insight hide?
Mortals don't have a clue,
haven't the slightest idea where to look.
Earth's depths say, "It's not here';
ocean deeps echo, "Never heard of it.'
It can't be bought with the finest gold;
no amount of silver can get it.
Even famous Ophir gold can't buy it,
not even diamonds and sapphires.
Neither gold nor emeralds are comparable;
extravagant jewelry can't touch it.
Pearl necklaces and ruby bracelets--why bother?
None of this is even a down payment on Wisdom!
Pile gold and African diamonds as high as you will,
they can't hold a candle to Wisdom.

"So where does Wisdom come from?
And where does Insight live?
It can't be found by looking, no matter
how deep you dig, no matter how high you fly.
If you search through the graveyard and question the dead,
they say, "We've only heard rumors of it.'

"God alone knows the way to Wisdom,
he knows the exact place to find it.
He knows where everything is on earth,
he sees everything under heaven.
After he commanded the winds to blow
and measured out the waters,
Arranged for the rain
and set off explosions of thunder and lightning,
He focused on Wisdom,
made sure it was all set and tested and ready.
Then he addressed the human race: "Here it is!
Fear-of-the-Lord--that's Wisdom,
and Insight means shunning evil.'"

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

Yesterday I bought Jars of Clay's best of album, Furthermore. It's different to most best of albums though. It's not just a heap of old songs with a few new recordings chucked in to make people who already have every album go and buy it. The first disc contains new recordings of each song, and the second disc has live recordings. My favorite track's easily 'The Valley Song'. It just describes where I'm at with God right now so well. The chorus is stuck in my head:

    'I will sing of Your mercy
    That leads me through valleys of sorrow
    To rivers of joy.'

A green parrot just flew into the window in front of me. I don't know why. It just did.

Monday, September 08, 2003

Family turned up at about 1pm on Saturday, and we had pizzas Dave'd made for lunch.

After lunch we drove up to Creswick. Don't know why. They wanted to go down the main street, even though I said everything'd be closed.
Went for a walk around Lake St George.

Had fish 'n' chips for tea.

Went and saw Finding Nemo with Doomie and Justin (my little bro's). It was very very good for a Disney film (I normally despise them) but it was still pretty annoying. There were bits that were just great and others that were absolutely irritating. Basically: it's bipolar. The sharks were cool though. And the flounder was funny. The turtles were cool and annoying at the same time.

Yesterday had a barbecue at the lake for lunch, then Mum, Dad, Doomie and Justin went home.

Did a presentation this morning. The class thought my map of Europe was a platypus.

And I've now had over 1000 hits. Ra.

Bush in visit to repay Howard
US President George Bush will arrive in Australia next month for a flying, 36-hour visit expected to test national security arrangements to their limits.
The Age

Okay. So they're using the (apparently) most powerful person in the world to test the security of an insignificant backwater country like Australia. Right...

Friday, September 05, 2003

My parents are coming up tomorrow, for the Fathers Day weekend, because I haven't seen them since the Winter holidays (which ended about seven weeks ago) and they're going to Queensland for the Spring holidays, which start in two weeks.

Flip told me yesterday, before Camp St Students for Christ, her car got stolen last Friday, while she was visiting her parents. They found it later on, but her phone, a bit of money, some clothes and Tegan's camera (Flip had been using it) were gone.

Another good one from Relevant. Mainly reader responses.

An article from Relevant on a Texas sodomy trial, judgemental Christians and (of course) stuff.

Thursday, September 04, 2003

Last night as I was walking from Camp St to church, I stopped at a certain McDonalds, in a suburb that shall remain unnamed.* I had exactly 40¢**, so I was going to get a 40¢ cone.
I walked up to the counter and boldly said, 'Could I have a 40¢ cone, please?'
'Um, actually, they're 50¢ now,' said the girl at the counter. 'Heh heh heh.'
'Well I can't afford one then,' I said.


I'm still the 1,435,909,091st richest person on earth!

How rich are you? >>

*Despite the fact that there are only three McDonaldses in Ballarat.
**Well, technically I also had about 37¢ in my bank account, but that's not much good, is it?

Tuesday, September 02, 2003

Saturday night we had a bonfire at Micky's family's farm. But they wouldn't let us roast their neighbors' horselets.

Sunday afternoon watched The Two Towers at John's. Noticed a lot more spiritual allusions this time.

This morning put Students for Christ posters up at Camp St, to adverstise our first open meeting there, which is on Thursday.

The Professional Writing & Editing readings night is on tonight at SMB. I think there are three people down to read. I was down to provide the prize, so i bought a 235g jar of Vegemite. But it's not just any Vegemite. It's

Historic 80th Anniversary Vegemite

Vegemite is suitable for vegetarians.
This particular jar of vegemite is best used before July 16 2004.
Vegemite is a trademark of Kraft Foods Limited, 187 Todd Road, Fishermans Bend, Victoria 3207.
You can find out more about Vegemite at

And Winter is apparently over.