Blogger de Lord Lucan

2001-11-07T11:36:00.000+10:00

Today’s Soundtrack - When I Grow Up, by Garbage
Trying hard to fit among you
Floating out to Wonderland
Unprotected
God I’m pregnant
Damn the consequences
When I grow up
I’ll be stable

I've taken a small break in order to finish the exams at Uni. Thankfully, they're finally over. So now I'm back and ready to continue spilling out my Story. Thank-you for your patience.

Part 5, The Family History
Both my parents are Australian born – my father in the West to a farming family and my mother in Queensland to an engineering family. My grandmother on the spindle (mother’s) side was the first female Engineering graduate from QU. Also on that side of the family you can pick up an Arch-Bishop of Sydney, and if you go back further, tracing the Russian roots, you find people that were the tutors to the Tsars of Russia. Just after that come family stories of people walking across Siberia to escape the Revolution. For reasons that I’ll get on to, I don’t know an awful lot about the historical stories of the spear (father’s) side of my family. I was born in England. In a place called Ashfield in Kent actually. I don’t know what my parents were doing there, it’s not something that I’ve been particularly interested, and I think that I may have left it a bit too late to find out. It isn’t all that important anyway.

When I was about three we spent a year in Nigeria (in North Africa, currently the scenes of major protests between the populace and the oil company Shell (see the McSpotlight site for more information), as well as an off-again/on-again alternating civilian/military governments), about five kilometres from the city of Kano. As far as I know, my father was working as an agricultural consultant. Once again, not too important. That was where my sister was born. It’s also where I apparently first started to talk. According to my mother (the only reliable source that I have of the time) I started by speaking the local dialect of Howsa (I’m not entirely certain how it’s spelt, but I believe that it is the name of the local language. Maybe I’ll look this up later and let you know). I then learnt several other dialects, a smattering of French and Chinese, before finally learning a few words of English. Apparently I would also go to Mosque on regular occasions, and started learning the Koran. As far as I can tell, however, everything changed on the plane back to England. Apparently I told my mother “In England I speak English” and then promptly proceeded to forget everything that I had learnt. I don’t know if this story is true or not – I can remember very little prior to about six years of age.

2001-10-25T08:06:00.000+10:00

Today’s Soundtrack – What’s On Your Mind, by Information Society
It’s worked so far but we’re not out yet
I want to know what you’re thinking
There are some things you can’t hide
I want to know what you’re feeling
Tell me what’s on your mind

This is the first time that I’ve actually tried to do anything web-wise before, so please excuse the mistakes that crop up. At the moment I’m having a few troubles with the order of my blogs, but I’ll see what I can do to fix that. Anything major I will try to correct as soon as I work out how. Any tips or hints or pieces of code I would be more than happy to receive so please let me know. It’s actually pretty fun and I’d recommend it to anybody as a way of getting things off your chest in a semi-confidential manner, so thank-you.

I’d never looked up pectus carinatum before, and now I know why. They show pictures as well. Actually the pictures of pigeon chest aren’t too bad, but the ones of its diametrically opposed relation (the one where the chest caves inward, can’t remember the name now, maybe it will come to me later…nope not yet) are the ones where it gets quite freaky. I’d put up a link to them, but they’re rather gross and if shown on television they would have to show the warning ‘This program is Rated MA. It contains Surgical Procedures’. If you have enough interest in them you can go and Google them yourself. I had no idea that there were support groups for that kind of thing. Sometimes the Internet can be a remarkable place. I’ve also found that www.lordlucan.com has both everything that you wanted to know as well as everything that you didn’t want to know about this fugitive. A little bit like the catalogues that end up in your mailbox advertising all sorts of things that you never needed to know – hot dog makers, pop corn machines (especially the ones shaped like dinosaurs) and combination secateurs and hair brush sets. You know the sort of thing that I mean. All the unnecessary crap that we are pointed towards and told that we must have. Like those rotating electrically-powered tie holders that have a dinky little light that shines down on the tie. Why on earth would somebody need something like that?? Oh well, I suppose that I had better stop ranting now and get on with my tale.

Part 4, I get hurt too...
This is not to say that I don’t feel emotions. I laugh and cry, smile and frown about the same as other people. When you kick me in the gonads do I not bend over, exhale and try not to move too much while the tears fall down my face? I just tend not to feel strong emotions too often, and I don’t particularly see the point in feeling like an idiot just to look like everybody else, jumping and screaming and trying to psyche themselves up. I don’t know, maybe it’s like a placebo, people take it because they think it makes them feel better, but I’ve got a feeling that it’s a placebo so it has no effect on me. As Grandmothers tend to say – just because everyone else is jumping off a cliff doesn’t mean that I have to as well (but I reserve to jump off the cliff with everybody else should I wish to do so. Maybe it’s a very nice cliff to jump off. I mean, why would everyone else be doing it. Maybe they’ve got a very good reason, like say…they’re being chased by ‘some irate velociraptor’ (with apologies to Weird Al). Or maybe they are in the middle of an election campaign and have marauding politicians after them, hounding them for their votes. You never know, it’s all entirely possible. By the way, here in the Land of Oz we’re currently in the throes of an election campaign. I can’t remember if I’d mentioned that before. No. OK, then I’ll add that to the list of things to talk about (this list is getting way too long and it sounds like I may actually have to do something about it at sometime. I think it would be a good time to close the brackets now).

I suppose that may be the reason why I dislike being in large groups of people. Small groups/gatherings I’m fine with, but as soon as there are many people around I start to get self-conscious. How do I stand, what do I do with my hands, where do I look, how do I look…more to the point - what the hell am I doing here? It’s not that I don’t enjoy being around people. I like to listen to people talk, hear their opinions, their stories, and their lives. People fascinate me, and individuals often have the most amazing stories to tell. But large groups of people. Well there I seem to have problems. I don’t think that I’m finding the right words yet, but please stick with me if I keep pushing on with this I might just stumble over them. But maybe instead it would be a good time to talk about my family, and the way in which I grew up.

2001-10-24T13:06:00.000+10:00

24/10/01
Today's Soundtrack - Father Lucifer, by Tori Amos
Father Lucifer
You never looked so sane
You always did prefer the drizzle to the rain
Tell me that you're still in love with that milkmaid
How's the Lizzies
How's your Jesus Christ been hanging

I’ve just been reading a collection of stories by the science-fiction author Gene Wolfe called The Island of Doctor Death and other stories and other stories. No that’s not a mistyping, that’s what the actual collection is called. The first story is called The Island of Doctor Death and other stories, so the title does make a sort of sense. I’ve never read anything by Gene Wolfe before but I’ve been seeing the second volume of his fantasy series in every bookshop that I’ve been in recently, but I haven’t seen the first volume, so I’ve taken to looking at that section in order to try and find that book. I haven’t yet, but this one caught my eye. Who says you can’t judge a book by its cover? Personally I often try to judge a book by its title alone). Gene Wolfe also wrote one of the introductions to Neil Gaiman's The Sandman (something that if you haven't read yet you should), something that I occasionally use as a judge of quality. I’d also like to read something by Harlan Ellison but the book of his that I’d like to get is a massive tome entitled The Essential Harlan Ellison and costs an obscene amount of money, although probably less elsewhere in the world, due to the current value of the South Pacific Peso that we Australians are currently laboured with.

Back to the book review we go then…it’s an interesting book, and the stories are generally well written, and have some really interesting ideas. But the problem that I have is that Mr Wolfe seems to have forgotten the endings of many of the stories. They seem to be snapshots of various lives in a variety of different realities. They are stories I’d love to know more about the people in Tracking Song or the world of The Hero as Werwolf, but Mr Wolfe doesn’t tell us any more. I mean, I know that they’re short stories, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have to tell us anything. Oh well, I suppose I just have to let my imagination kick in and fill in the gaps as best I can inside my head. And Continue with my own story...

Part 3, Nicknames for everybody
But the swim team was different. I mean I didn’t get on particularly well, or badly with most of them. I mean I wouldn’t have considered them real friends, more as casual acquaintances and often good people to talk to. But in about 1996 they started calling me ‘The Butcher’. It’s not that I didn’t mind it, it’s just that it confused me. I mean it’s not as if I’m a violent person. I mean, I spent about four months in the Army Reserve after finishing Year 12, but the reason that I quit was because I realised that I hated guns, and started to shake as soon as I picked one up (maybe I’ll come back to tell this story later). The best idea that I could come up with was that it was the onomatopoeic effect (is that the right word. I think it is anyway. Maybe someone will tell me if I’ve got it wrong). Basically my first and last names begin with the letter B, so it just kind of works (poetically or aesthetically perhaps) to say B____ ‘The Butcher’ B______.

Well anyway that’s what I thought. Nobody in the swim team would tell me any different, so I just thought I had it. I mean I didn’t mind too much, it kind of made me feel more a part of the group so it was all right. Earlier this year (2001), however, I was talking to a guy I know at water polo (I play water polo as well as swim. Have I said that before? No I don’t think so, maybe I’ll talk about that later as well) and he’d met a person at a party who was in the Swimming team at my High School. Talking about mutual acquaintances, my name had come up. The Swimming guy told the Water Polo guy about the reason behind the nickname ‘The Butcher’. Apparently it’s because I don’t, to use his words, “fire up”. I don’t “go off”. When everybody else is jumping up and down, yelling and screaming, I’m generally just sort of standing there wondering what all the fuss is about.

2001-10-23T13:17:00.000+10:00

23/10/01
Today's Soundtrack - Hallelujah, by Jeff Buckley
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't care for music do you?

Well I promised some information about pigeon chest. Try here, Boston Children’s Hospital has some info. I didn’t know this stuff before, so it helps me as much as it helps anyone else who is interested. I also found this-
Pectus Carinatum (Pigeon Chest)
The appearance of Pigeon Chest is caused by a forward displacement of the sternum with flattening of the lateral chest walls. If the condition is unilateral the main forward bulge is formed by the anterior ends of the ribs.
In itself, the condition is harmless, but it may be associated with conditions such as Asthma, Marfan's Syndrome or Scoliosis.
I’ve never had any major health problems, although I was diagnosed with croup once. Croup, I have just found out is found here apparently it’s a virus most often caught by two-year olds. Maybe I’m just lucky. I didn’t get a major version of it, only one that affected me a bit like a mild asthma

Part 2, Doing Deeper
I read a lot. A lot. All sorts of stuff. Fantasy, Science Fiction, Sci-fi, biography, Science, thrillers, detective, Historical novels, philosophy, history, geography, mathematics, Classics. You name it, I’ll probably have read something in that section. I’ll have probably read a lot of stuff in that section. My favourite authors at the moment are Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman, Tad Williams and Ray Bradbury. I read quickly as well – about 100 pages a minute when I’m left alone. Huh. Left Alone. That could be a lot of my problem, but once again, we’ll come back to this later, hopefully. I listen to a wide variety of material, from rock to pop, industrial to classical, jazz and blues to a bit of country. I don’t particularly like to say that I don’t like something, because as soon as I do I find something that I like. For example country music has a bad rep, but I like to listen to Kasey Chambers, and there’s links to all sorts of other stuff – Tom Waits has a few nearly country songs, and Weddings, Parties, Anything are often a bit folksy, but I enjoy them just as much as say, Fear Factory, Tori Amos or The Avalanches.

Before we start the real story, it’s probably best if I told you some important things about myself, things that might have some relation to the story I tell later. Sometimes it’s amazing how other people see stuff about you that you didn’t even realise about your self. I was in the Swimming Team at my Secondary School. Well actually I only made the team once – in Year 11 – but all the other years, from 8-12, I was an emergency. I’ve always been a decent swimmer, but never great, always just a touch better than the average. I’ve never had any talent whatsoever at any sport – I’m clumsy, too slow thinking in the heat of a match, have no hand-eye coordination to speak of, and I’m not very vocal – but I’ve been swimming since I was about six years old, and I’ve always trained fairly hard (when I’ve been at training of course). Well, anyway, I’d been a part of this team long enough to be a fixture when they give me my nickname. I’ve had a number of other nicknames throughout my schooling career, and some of them have stuck with me to this day – bookworm and it’s derivatives (book, worm, booky etc.) because of my reading; Freak and it’s variations (mutant, weirdo etc.) because of my chest. I can put up with those. Hey, I can put up with almost anything people say about me. I don’t really mind, and anyway, I can think up much better stories about other people than they often can about me.

2001-10-23T10:09:00.000+10:00

23/10/01
Today's Soundtrack - Dirty Drowning Man, by Primus
I'm a dog
A dirty flying dog
I drink Campari
With marinated wild hog
I've no sense
I lick electric fence
I but barbed wire in my pants
And do a celtic dance

Introduction
And thus begins my blog. The Story will be true enough I suppose, but what’s truth apart from being your version of events? If people know me they will recognise some of the stories and descriptions that I give, but I don’t think anyone knows the full extent of me. Or maybe they do and I’m just kidding myself. But anyway, this is the truth, part of the truth, and some statistics. Maybe it will help. Why Lord Lucan as an alias? Well if you go here you will find information on his story. Apparently he has become one of those people that are seen all around the world, a bit like Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison, Harold Holt, etc. I'm not much like him, as a human being (as in I have no intention of murdering anybody whatsoever). But as an alias, it's a nice story I suppose. I'm not that crash-hot at computer-stuff so if there's any serious mistakes just let me know and I'll see what I can do to fix it. I'm contactable at blordlucan@hotmail.com

When starting a story, is it best to start at the beginning, the middle or the end? Well I suppose that the beginning is a good start, but what if the beginning doesn’t tell you anything, what if you need to talk about the stuff that happened beforehand that has some sort of relevance to what it is that you are wanting to talk about. What if the story is a person? What do artists do when they’re drawing a person’s face – do they start on the outline and then go in to paint the middle bits, like eyes and nose. Or do they start with the bits with meaning – the eyes and the mouth, and work out to where the immaterial, but not meaningless stuff is placed. I’m afraid that I’ve never been much of an artist – my stick figures don’t even look like stick figures. Even my handwriting is atrocious, it has been compared to that of a dyslexic child in grade three being shown how to write by a monkey that has never seen a pen before in its life. I suppose that I’m lucky for computers and printing then. But I suppose that I had better return to my story – the story of me.

Me. Hmm. Well I’m not much. Twenty-one years old. Live in the Zone (which is apparently a shortening of the phrase 'God's own country' - Australia). Non-smoker. Non-drinker (basically because I don’t like the taste, but we’ll come back to this). I don’t do any drugs. I don’t even like coffee much. I’m unquestionably heterosexual, though for some reason people occasionally ask. Six foot one and a bit tall (185cm if that’s how you prefer it). About 90 kg at the moment (but I’m occasionally working on losing a bit of weight. Speaking of which, where does weight go when you lose it? Does someone else find it? Is it all lying in the back of a couch somewhere? Interesting questions I suppose, but a bit off topic). I’m carrying a bit of weight around my waist at the moment but I’m generally well distributed with muscle. I have a preference for the colour blue, but only because it makes choosing clothing that much easier. My mother and my sister say that my tastes run generally run to the boring, but I prefer to think that I’m just not particularly picky. They also say that I have chicken legs – they’re bigger than the average persons legs, but my chest is rather a lot bigger than the average persons so apparently they’re a bit unbalanced. I have what is often referred to as a bull-neck (more neck than your average rugby player, but not a lot more). My lung capacity is 40% greater than the average (I hold seven litres of air compared with the normal 5 litres for someone of equal size and weight). This may be connected to the fact that I also have what has been referred to as a pigeon-chest (I think of it as a sort of double-jointed chest. If I find some links to a better description then I’ll put it up here.)