Seagulls

I love public holidays. I don't like how I get shafted by work (ending one contract on the Friday, starting the next one on the Tuesday meaning I don't get paid for today, although everyone else does) but hey - it does mean a four day week, so eight days of work and then we're off for a weekend in Melbourne. So why do I like public holidays? Seagulls.

Actually I adore the day before a public holiday because that's when I see the human seagulls out in full effect buying cheap meats.

Over at the local Woolies here in Norwood they always run the meat out on a public holiday at about 4:30pm - they close at 5pm, and they either have to dump the lot or take it home. And as everyone knows, you don't eat your own food if only because you know exactly what it is and no-one willingly eats guinea pig, rat or pigeon labeled as chicken. So out it all goes.

When this happens the flocks come in - the flocks of seagulls. They'll hover around the sales guy who walks along with a large set of price reduction stickers and a marker pen, and wait, not very patiently mind you, for him to whack the sticker on the meat with that magical half price. If he doesn't move fast enough the seagulls get shitty. They'll pick the choice cuts they want up and move it to an area directly in front of where he's working. This means that he'll get to their cuts first, mark them down and off they'll go.

Oh if only it were that simple. You see the flocks don't move on that easily. Like throwing a chip to a seagull, these little old creatures will stay there, waiting for that magical roast of horse labeled beef that'll be marked down from $20 to $2. It never happens, but they'll wait for it.

The best part? They fight. Like all territorial birds they'll fight for their turf, their standing and their food. I've seen these dear old blue rinsed Ray Martin lovers start to punch each other, they'll push, swear the vilest of insults and generally carry on like, well, seagulls at the beach. They'll load up in bulk. They'll stand there and pinch things from each others hands, shopping trollys - anywhere really. They'll complain that the fat slag over there has more than she can carry. They'll whinge endlessly and the noise is brilliant. Plus when the fist-fights start...well, there's nothing funnier than seeing two little old dears bitch slapping each other over a packet of sausages made from cardboard and saw-dust, but labeled pork.

I love it. If you ever want some cheap entertainment then wander on down to the local supermarket when the cheap meats go on sale. It's worth the half hour from your life to see how low some people will go for the cheapest quality meats on offer. They'd kill a cat and bring it in if they thought it'd get marked down to $1.50. Next time I'm taking the camera.

Awareness Can Be Dangerous

Recently I had a case of awareness. Not the worst thing in the world to do and this was a damn good case. I'd sat down, fired up the dependable lap-top and started to work on the Jim Mooney book (a book with still without a proper title). I'd just finished inserting an introduction from Stan Lee into the book, had reformatted, reviewed comments from the likes of Steve Gerber and Richard Howell and then began writing what I've learnt about Jims last days at Marvel Comics. Then it hit me. I stopped writing and looked up, my other half looked over and asked if everything was alright. But I was in a state of almost shock.

"I'm writing a book." I said.
"Yes, yes you are."
"This is my second book, the first is coming out in a few months and I have another to write after this."
"Yes, yes you do."

My life is almost complete really. My goals as a child was to see a book that had my name attached to it as the author. Now that goal is about to be reached. I've been published in magazines, been on radio and TV, have done work for and been mentioned in numerous other publications, periodicals and books, but outside of seeing my name on the front of a few magazines (usually 'Inside: _____ by Danny Best') but this will be the first time my name will be attached to a book that I wrote and compiled.

That just spins me out.

I don't think I'm breathing the rare air here, and I'm not saying that I'm writing the great novel, a book that will change life and society as we know it. However with this book I set some goals and I'm hitting them all, with consummate ease. I'm blessed because I get to speak to people who's work I've admired since I can remember reading. I'm blessed because I have great people around me who are just as passionate about what I'm doing and who give me the latitude to work like I do. They understand that, at times, I'll go quiet or vanish for a few hours while I search for that elusive thought, and in that understanding they'll just leave me to it.

I've said it before, I'll say it again. Life is damn good right now. And it's only going to get better.

Interestingly enough my pal Chade, who I get to edit the bulk of my professional work, had a similar, albeit different, case of awareness on the same topic.