Category: Uncategorized

(1)
The first novel I wrote was called in move. It followed four guys through their last year at school. I came up with the personalities of these main characters when I was still in school, scribbling them down in the margins of my schoolwork – I still have all those notes, and the final versions who turned up on the page many years later are essentially the same characters.
(The creative process I actually used was to lift key character traits from friends and acquaintancs, and mix them up. I wanted the characters to remind me of people I knew, but to be different enough that the stolen personalities wouldn’t be obvious. What happened was, as soon as the writing started the characters became entirely themselves. Still, I can point to any defining personality feature on each of the main characters and tell you who in my school was the model for it.)
(2)
I came back to in move relatively recently, and figured out some deeper parts of the structure (my ignorance of which had been hampering the story in previous arrangements). I plotted the four characters on a diagram. They were differentiated in two ways. They had either trait A or trait B, and also either trait X or trait Y, so the characters were AX, AY, BX and BY. I can’t remember what names I used for the traits right now. (I think confidence vs insecurity was one pair, and control vs no control was the other, at least at one stage of thinking about it.)
(3)
Now. A few nights ago I picked up Kim Stanley Robinson’s Red Mars again. I’d previously got two-thirds through it, and was enjoying it rather a lot, but decided against taking it on the plane when I left NZ in 2002. I figured I’d finish it in three hours and then have a big chunk of paperback taking up space in my bag. So now in 2006 I picked it up again. I decided to re-read Part 4 and see how my memory jogged. I chose Part 4 because it’s really short.
Part 4 is about the first psychologist on Mars, coming apart at the seams as he provides support to the first Mars colonists. He tracks the colonists on two axes, introvert-extrovert and labile-stabile (basically, labile means moody and changeable, whereas stabile means of a constant mood). He cross-references these two axes and discovers he’s recreated the Greek model of four temparaments – sanguine is extravert/stabile, phlegmatic is introvert/stabile, melancholic is introvert/labile, and choleric is extravert/labile.
The text has a diagram. When I saw it, I reacted with shock, because I recognised it. It matched my in move diagram.
Which is when I realised my four characters fit the model pretty much exactly. When I was scribbling notes at age 16 I had, unwittingly, created archetypal examples of the four temperaments. (Scott – choleric. Richard – sanguine. Adam – melancholic. Dennis – phlegmatic.)
(4)
Then it gets a little freaky.
Way back when I wrote the second draft of the book I wanted to play with the symbolism a bit. Following instinct, I related each character to one of the four alchemical elements, earth, air, fire and water. Pure instinct. I just knew which one fitted which element.
Well, turns out I got them right. Choleric goes with fire, sanguine with air, melancholic with earth, and phlegmatic with water.
That kinda blew me away. Typing this now, it’s still blowing me away. Me, now: away, blown. It’s incredible how deep these symbols go inside our heads.
Think on it for a second: these patterns and structures used to conceive of the world in operation thousands of years ago in a very different culture, they come bubbling up out of the subconscious of a pretty ordinary Kiwi kid in the now. There’s no real mystery to it, but there is amazement in what it says about us, about our minds and our cultures and how they all work. There is wonder. I think it’s wonderful.

Today, July 23, was supposed to be Burn The Beehive Day.
Today was intended to be a new national holiday when all New Zealanders could put aside their differences and gather together, metaphorically and literally, to enjoy the burnination of an iconic loved/hated NZ building, and thereafter commemorate it annually with a long weekend.
But this promising new celebration isn’t going to be held this year. No, too many New Zealanders feel strongly about the buildings being destroyed in the Middle East to smile at the destruction of a building here. And how, in this atmosphere of international tension, will it be possible to emphasise that BTBD is an apolitical expression of mutual respect as well as the sheer joy of burnin’ stuff? The possibility that BTBD would be co-opted by one political pressure group or another is too great.
And so, with sadness, but with confidence that this is the right decision, it has been decided that the first BTBD will wait for next year.
Then, crowds will gather together in the courtyard of New Zealand’s parliament, and holding their little waxen Beehive candles they will watch as fires are lit in the Beehive. Children will clap and parents will smile and teenagers will look up from their cellphones for a moment. MPs will stand with labour unionists and business roundtable members, all united. All of New Zealand will join hands and, together, sing for our unity, our communal goodwill, and our mutual appreciation for burnin’ stuff up real damn good.
Next year.

Fragment One:

(one of many pamphlets scattered today in the quad area at Auckland University of Technology)
Fragment Two:

Photo caption: Israeli girls write messages on a shell at a heavy artillery position near Kiryat Shmona, in northern Israel, next to the Lebanese border, Monday, July 17, 2006.(AP Photo/Sebastian Scheiner)
(Via This Modern World )
Fragment Three:
Israeli deaths: 29
Lebanese deaths: 300
(Via today’s BBC news article)

I don’t get irritated too often. However, some things do rub me entirely the wrong way. My pet peeve, as anyone who has seen me negotiate the sidewalks of Edinburgh during Festival season will know, is bad walking. I dislike it even more than bad driving, maybe because it’s so much less potentially fatal. (That makes sense in my brain.)
Here, then, is a rare Proclamation of Religious Truth from the Holy Church of Leon (God and true-King-of-France).
Venal walking sins:
Scenic walking
The sinner is more interested in looking around himself than in looking where he’s going, and he isn’t trying to minimise his impact on other pedestrians. Scenic walkers stop unexpectedly and generally move slowly, which can cause minor traffic disturbances on a low-usage pavement and severe clotting on a busy pavement.
Text veering
The sinner is so busy texting that she doesn’t realise she’s moving in a diagonal, until she does, when she overcompensates and starts moving in the other diagonal. Repeat at unpredictable intervals.
Jittering
The sinner is weak of spirit and freaks out every time he realises there are other human beings also walking in the same area. Can be counted on to move the wrong way when approaching someone, to pause an inordinately long time when turning a corner into someone’s way, and generally to make everything hard for everyone by trying not to bother anyone.
Mortal walking sins:
Slow-downing
The sinner is walking along at a reasonable pace, and then she slows down a bit. Then she slows down a bit more. Then she slows down a bit more. Then she finally comes to a complete halt. Throughout this entire exercise, she never once looks behind to see if she is inconveniencing anyone. On a busy pavement, where overtaking can be difficult, being stuck behind a slow-downer is very frustrating indeed.
Erraticising
The sinner is all over the place. Changing speed, changing direction, turning unexpectedly and without checking for other people. This sin combines unpredictability with a complete disregard for other pedestrians. Erraticisers are the leading cause of pedestrian collisions, which you’d think would teach them to stop their erraticising, but somehow this doesn’t happen.
Wide Pavementing
Taking up the entire width of a pavement without being aware of people moving faster than you is walking’s greatest sin. Usually this takes a group of people, but narrow pavements can be occupied by one person with a bag.
This sin is most often committed by the slow. A particularly frequent sinner formation is the husband-and-wife wide-bottom no-awareness pair, but also common are the three-blind-old-ladies, the seven-clueless-teenagers, and the two-arrogant-bastards.
If anyone ever has to step into the road to get past you, then you have committed this terrible sin, and you WILL go to hell.

[x-posted from morgueatlarge email list and LJ]
Hey folks,
the NZers in the audience may be interested to hear that in today’s
Dominion Post is an article about experiencing Mexico’s Day of the
Dead, written by me.
The non-NZers can just feel all proud of me or whatever.
(I am kinda pleased. Although I haven’t seen it yet, so it’s probably
been subedited to death. But anyway.)
🙂
Hope all is well in the world,
~`morgue

I confess to not being entirely informed about what’s happening re: Israel/Lebanon at the moment. The short version seems to be, faced with some provocation (exactly what this was – the missile strike? the kidnapping? – is unclear to me), Israel has gone full-bore on the offensive, and Beirut is under fire.
It’s hard to see this flareup of violence as anything other than a continuation of an international relations strategy begun after the election of Hamas. Back in late January I was optimistic about what that election would mean for the region. I didn’t expect then that the democratically elected government of Palestine would be so thoroughly disenfranchised and vilified by the international community; all of my hopes for a moderate future for Hamas fall apart if the rest of the international community condemns them out of hand.
Israel’s recent invasion of Gaza was a development of the response to Hamas, and this massive response on Lebanon is a further development. In six short months, there has been a shift in the way things are done such that violence and warfare is back on the table in a way it hasn’t been in years.
I can’t see a way for this to get better any time soon. It’s clear from what media coverage I’ve seen that Israel’s actions are being tacitly condoned even by liberal voices. Expect more belligerence from Israel’s big guns in response to more provocation from furious Arab groups.
I only hope the Iran nuclear situation stays bubbling under for a while. This recontextualising of middle-east relations is, I suspect, also about Israel being positioned by the US to where it can launch bombing raids on Iran’s nuclear capacity with relative impunity (and the US gets to keep its hands fairly clean). If this is ever realised, then there really will be hell to pay.
EDIT: Having done a bit more reading about what’s happened, I’m now aware of the huge inadequacy of my short version, above. Oh well. The rest still fits, though.

Hah! I just read the sidebar on Conan’s blog and discovered I was part of a poll! (I normally just read the content stuff, which is a great mix of self-analysis, philosophy, and talk of fascinating business venture. But I noticed the sidebar on this visit, because I’d already read the main content.)

Stream of Consciousness Poll Eleven
Who is the best hugger in Wellington?
Morgue – he may be wiry, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm: 2 votes (10%)

I came fifth. Quite frankly, I’m not satisfied with that. I have plans to move up the rankings. I think, in advance of the inevitable re-polling Conan will do to reaffirm his position at the top of the table, I will embark on a campaign of pro-active hugging in order to build up a storehouse of positivity among the huggable blogging community. I will hug freely and with abandon.
And, when I have lured the person in the fourth spot into a false sense of security by my general hugging, and I have my arms wrapped around her, I will strike.
She will feel no pain. She will be in a better place. And I will be one step further up the hug rankings.
*steeples fingers* Excellent.
===
Remember, kids, hugs can cause misunderstandings in the comments section of your blog.
And thanks, my two fans.

Stencilling is a new kind of street art that has risen to prominence in only the last couple years. Like graffiti, it involves placing artworks on public walls and pavements. Unlike graffiti, a huge part of stencilling has been political comment.
Wellington has a healthy tradition of stencil street-art. It’s been going on here for some time – I remember stencilling starting up before I left NZ, so 2002 at the latest.
Today, walking down Willis St in central Wellington, I stepped on some pavement stencil art. It’s actually quite uncommon to have stencil work underfoot, so I noticed, but I didn’t slow down. Then, brain kicking in, I backtracked and forced the lunchtime worker bees to route around me as I examined it. My brain had not lied to me – this wasn’t urban art, it was advertising, an ad for Listerine of all things.
Not that this is surprising. This is how marketing works, after all, and I’m sure there have been other instances of stencil-marketing before. But this was the first time I’d seen it, and it’s a turning point for me – a new urban medium of the 2Ks, one of which I am fond, has finally been co-opted before my eyes.
Maybe I should be glad it took so long?

The Wednesday night indoor netball team finished its season with a minor-semi at 7.40, which we won, so it was followed by a minor-final at 9pm, which we also won. I think this means we came fifth in the grade. I don’t really know, or particularly care. They gave us triangular shoulderbags.
What I love about it
I don’t post much about the sporty stuff here, considering how much of my life revolves around it at the moment. I was gasping for opportunities to play sports I enjoyed in Edinburgh, and have dived right in now I’m back on familiar ground. Most weeks I’ll have two netball games, plus ultimate and basketball. It’s great.
I love the exercise, I love the competition, I love the challenge. I love being part of a team striving to execute well. I love being in a situation where failure to concentrate is immediately punished with a loss of possession or other kind of penalty. I love constantly responding to the changing conditions of the game – who’s ahead, how much time is left, who’s playing well, what the opposition are doing, what my team are doing, how tired I am, how tired everyone else is.
Most of all, I love getting into that headspace where you don’t think, you just act. That’s great.
I Ramble About My Past: Early Days
I was never remotely athletic growing up. I am in no way a natural athlete. In my family, the football World Cup exists principally as an excuse for my mother to bring up the hilarious experience of watching single-digit-age me attempting to play football.
(I remember quite enjoying playing, even though I knew that I was rubbish. I also still remember a couple of humiliating moments; those are the things that stick in the childhood memory the best.)
I did, however, develop a bit of enthusiasm for basketball. I played a bit at school with friends, we were all aged 9 or so and didn’t really know the rules so just made up stuff that sounded plausible. I was taller than the other kids, which helped with the interest I guess, but it was also the nature of basketball that appealed to me – a team game (I have a deep personal preference for team games, because they give me something other than myself to play for), in which a ball is played using the hands (which I was vastly more confident with than feet!), and with a fairly steady reward frequency (so I didn’t feel like I was wasting energy for little reward).
I Ramble About My Past: Latter Days
Fast forward to my latter years in high school. I started playing in the school’s basketball team, my first bout of serious sporting endeavour. It was a hard road. I wasn’t very good. But I got better, thanks to effort put in and some good coaching. By the end of school I could handle myself okay.
(I remember one of my teammates telling me I had been a subject of discussion, in which the conclusion was that I was “unco, but that made me good”. I was very pleased, because I knew I wasn’t the most co-ordinated guy around, but apparently I was turning my limitations into an advantage because I was unpredictable, or something or other. Heh.)
I have plenty of good memories of those two seasons. But I also had some pretty rough times. One of the bigger emotional experiences was desperately trying to stay out of that horrible pit of self-doubt that says, you’re not good enough. Give it up, go home, stop trying. Because I wasn’t good, I knew it, and time after time it was proven to me. Sometimes I just couldn’t do what I knew I needed to do. I tried as hard as I could and failed. And every time it felt like crap.
I Ramble About My Past: Life Lessons (With Stirring Orchestral Score)
I almost quit, actually.
(Hmm, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about this. Huh.)
After a particularly dispiriting training session I came to the bleak conclusion that I was doing no-one any favours by continuing in the team, and the next day I would give it up. Who did I think I was fooling?
It turned out that I decided not to quit after all, but I don’t remember that bit. All that stuck in the memory was that feeling of frustration and disappointment, of not being able to achieve.
I guess this was what you call a ‘life lesson’. I hardened up, basically. Worked harder, concentrated more, kept trying, and sure enough I improved, a lot. School ended and I kept playing and kept getting better. Those hard times in secondary school were far behind me. I guess that is what you call a ‘happy ending’.
I Finally Start Getting To The Point
Alongside the basketball, I’ve played a lot of indoor netball through the years. In indoor netball you can shoot the ball from a distance to earn 2 points instead of 1. I was always okay at shooting that 2-point shot. For a while I was pretty damn good at it. It was a key part of my game.
So I come back home and I get back into basketball. It takes a few weeks, but the old game comes back, the shot comes back, the awareness comes back, the hustle comes back. Sure, I’m an old man of thirty now but I didn’t feel like I was rebuilding a skillset from nothing.
And I got back into netball, and a lot of stuff came back real fast. But the 2-point shot? That just didn’t. Weeks turned into months and I kept trying, putting up a couple a game, but the shot just wasn’t falling.
And it felt bad. It felt just like it had as a teenager, although less drama-queeny and more straight-out frustration. I knew I was capable of doing this thing, but I wasn’t doing it. I felt like I was doing everything right but it wasn’t working. I joked about it a bunch, but truth be told, it really started to bother me.
(There is an alternate universe where this same story is being told as a parable on the inevitability of physical decline and how we all must learn to cope with a reduction in our capabilities. But not in this universe.)
It’s a horrible feeling, that. Failing. Setting yourself a goal that you know you can meet, and trying your damnedest to achieve it, and falling short time and time and time again.
I Get To The Point
A couple weeks ago, with that horrible feeling hitting me, I suddenly realised that I had been going about everything wrong.
I’ve made some changes over the past few years. As part of these changes, I have a much better set of tools for dealing with challenges like this than ever before. I’m no longer a teenager feeling despondent and powerless.
I recognised that my mental state has been contributing to my continued failure to perform. My confidence had been eroded and I’d fallen into a negative feedback loop. I recognised further that many aspects of the physical are actually mental, and that I could improve my performance by coming at it from a perspective of self-awareness and self-control.
I decided to fix it. I shifted my perspective. I stepped out of the negative feedback loop. Most importantly, I decided to be confident.
Since then, my shooting percentage has shot up; it’s not where it used to be, but it’s getting closer all the time. More tellingly, playing feels different now. It feels right. My head is straight. It’s all good.
So, there you go. It worked.
And that is the point of this post.
Postscript
Now that I have made this post, the mystical laws of the universe will ensure I play like crap for at least the next three weeks.
Unless acknowledging these laws in this postscript changes their impact. The mystical laws of the universe don’t like to be predictable, after all.
Anyway, next time I have a crap game, I’ll just be able to shrug and say, ‘not my fault. Mystical laws of the universe. Sorry, guys.’

This is a simple post about nice things, because nice things are nice, and my last few posts have made even my head hurt.
—
Nice thing #1: I am thoroughly enjoying the John Ralston Saul book, The Collapse of Globalism. Reading him is always a pleasure, and this book is a much better piece of communication than previous stuff by him, including magnum-opus Voltaire’s Bastards.
Nice thing #1+1: My brother is letting me live in his apartment while he’s away. So good. And it gives me a chance to watch Buffy season 7, which (believe it or not given my history of indoctrinating people into Buffy appreciation) I’ve never seen before.
Nice thing #11: I sold an article to the Dominion Post. It’s a travel piece on Mexico’s Day of the Dead. (Those of you who subscribe to morgueatlarge will have read a piece on that before – well, this one’s different.)
Nice thing #11b: I like how I had brief pangs of ‘omigod teh DOMPOST is EVUL did i sell out?!?!1!’ and concluded ‘nope, you’re getting your propaganda into their media’ and then thought ‘you sold a travel article you stupid moose, not everything is a political moment’ and then I remembered Skunk Anansie ‘Yes it’s fucking political, everything’s political’. Anyway, it hasn’t seen print yet, so I shouldn’t be counting chickens. Run free, chickens, run free.
Nice thing #111: The reveal at the end of Doctor Who series 2’s penultimate episode has been spoiled for me, and it fills me with silly fanboyish glee. Hee hee hee. *sigh*
Nice thing #—: I have made some progress on Sekret Personal Project A, with a brainstorming gathering last weekend setting off a whole new train of thought on it. (It’s only Sekret because I don’t want to put it under the pressure of observation yet. The whole thing is still ill-formed. But I had some splendid people gather to discuss some key aspects of my ill-formed ideas, which was exhilarating, humbling, and, for me at least, worthwhile.)
Nice thing #all: People.