Do you want hear a really good song? ‘Right Down the Line’ by Ron Sexsmith

We hear songs every day and most of them we don’t really pay attention too. But the moment I heard Ron Sexsmith’s version of Gerry Rafferty’s hit, ‘Right Down the Line’ I knew I had to listen to more of this guy’s catalogue.
As Marianne Lucier stated on you tube:

Ron is not about the stagecraft. But he delivers volumes of the heart and soul of the song often better than the original did.

Even better, Ron is a passionate Bob Dylan fan. Check out his You tube page which is full of cover versions of Bob’s songs. It also has audio from his new album.

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Posted in Music

My Review of the Mayweather – Pacquiao Fight

fight-live-streaming-Pacquiao-vs-Mayweather
I haven’t seen a more technically proficient performance than what Mayweather gave last night. As much as I despise what the man represents, his boxing prowess was about as close as you are going to get to THE perfect boxing performance. Anyone that tells you different is either lying or doesn’t know much about boxing.

Former world cruiserweight champion Johnny Nelson was surprised by the margin of Mayweather’s victory. He said: “He shocked me and shocked everybody because he stepped up another three, four, five levels and shut him out. It was a complete masterclass.

“The whole thing of boxing is hit and not be hit. That’s what he did.” – BBC news.

To demonstrate how dominant he was, you only need to look at the stats – 148 connected punches to Pacman’s 81. Money Mayweather made Manny look almost second-rate. Some might even call it a boxing lesson. I’d be loathed to see a rematch because Manny was just so out-classed. Pacquiao was dominated nearly as much as Mayweather’s predecessors, Maidana and Alvarez. Mayweather gave us a sublime tactician’s exhibition of speed, accuracy and power. He controlled the range and Manny kept walking into his jab. Pacquiao wasn’t aggressive enough. Mayweather actually threw more punches – 435 to 429 – and landed with 39% of them, compared to 19% for his opponent.

Mayweather says he will hang up the gloves after the next fight, but I highly doubt it considering he is approaching Rocky Marciano’s record of 49 wins and 0 losses. Can you imagine Mayweather leaving boxing at 49-0 which would be after his next bout? I can’t. I think Mayweather’s 49th fight could be against the British boxer of Pakastani descent -Amir Khan.

Lots to look forward to in the world of boxing. Who said it was dead?

Related Articles:

1. Floyd Mayweather: Bruno, Tyson, Froch, Khan united in praise– BBC News
2. Sport (and Adventure)
3. Longevity expert Peter Attia is my new hero! Nutrition and health.

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Posted in Sport and Adventure

Everest avalanche video: Camera captures moment of impact – ABC News

(Warning Strong Language.)

Read the whole ABC news story here

Related Articles:
1. Nepal earthquake: Before and after photos – ABC News
2. Moment earthquake hit Tibet filmed by survivor – BBC News
3. Fall 24 miles to Earth with Felix Baumgartner in new space-jump video

 

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Posted in News

The Telegram

AthleticsA school-friend kindly sent me a telegram after I won at the Australian Schools Athletic championships, admitting I was good enough despite wearing cheap sneakers called ‘Trax‘. I still have the results of the event which show my Australian record just below Cathy Freeman who also won at the same event. For those of you that don’t know, Cathy Freeman went on to win the 400 meters gold medal in the Sydney 2000 Olympics. This is arguably the most heralded track event win in Australian Olympic history. You can watch this historic moment here.

Later the local paper would interview my brother and I:

WALK STAR SHARES HIS SUCCESSES

Most 15 year olds would not readily admit they owe their success to their brother two years junior.

I have kept my friend’s telegram all these years. The first two sentences were written to the lyrical arrangement of  U2’s “All I Want is You”, which was a favourite song of mine at the time:

TelegramIt’s true we didn’t have a front door. Our poor guests had to use a side gate and then dodge the snapping jaws of our little canines all the way up the steps to our back door.

Matt Athletics championship

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Posted in Reflections, Sport and Adventure

The 20c Lolly Packet

The Return
Mum, apron on, stirdy
dinner ready for father’s return
kids bathed, tumbled into pyjamas,
awaiting their 20c lolly packet
rousing reception – walks through the door
cheap aftershave and cigar aroma
lingers like an old worn photograph,
yet it wasn’t like that then
twas about the white creased packet
‘How will we split up our lollies’?

The banana, which resembled the moon,
the disgusting spearmint leaf,
or the chocolate-coated licorice-centred pill.
dressed in our crisp PJs
scent of baby shampoo in the air,
busily removing the lollies from their packets.
putting them in precise order
and swapped those we didn’t like,
ensuring an equal number between us.
It was an intricate system we had going.

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Posted in Reflections

Trax Boy and Now Ain’t Dat a Man!

traxOur family always tried to achieve middle-class respectability, and never quite got there. The kids at my school had made up their minds. I was the Trax boy; the school kid who wore the cheapest sneakers. Most of the kids’ families had farms with parents who wore flannelettes – not the untucked Western Suburbs style which smelt of bourbon but the settled, crisp, happily country garb which reeked of ‘contented money’.

These rich come-ins lived on cheap land (well, modest for them) with newly built double-storey houses; driveways manicured by shiny white pebbles – not the sharp suburban asphalt ones which tore your legs to shreds.

When my family’s debt mounted and loan repayments became exorbitant we would sell up and buy a cheaper house further away from Sydney. You could count on the housing market to skyrocket after we moved away. We missed the housing booms every time.

My father had to travel at least four hours in any one day to and from work because we couldn’t afford anything closer to Sydney. Even when he parked his car in the city, he had to walk forty minutes to work. How he did this for twenty-five years straight is beyond me. Now aint dat a man? And here I am today, I couldn’t be bothered driving five minutes down the road to get a missing screw for my mower.

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Posted in Reflections

5 Reasons Bob Dylan is a God

Bob Dylan Hood
This article 5 reasons Bob Dylan is a god from the Tampa Bay Times was a fun read especially the following section:

5. The truth

The Dylan I’ve always loved is exactly like the one encountered by a 24-year-old cop in New Jersey a few years ago.

Neighbors in the suburb of Long Branch had called the police after seeing a disheveled elderly gentleman peering into a vacant home for sale on a rainy afternoon.

When Officer Kristie Buble stopped the man and asked him what he was doing, Dylan said he was interested in buying a home. He told Buble his name and said he was playing a concert later that night if she would like tickets.

The officer knew the name, but she figured the old guy was a few chords short of a melody. She put him in her cruiser and offered to drive him to his nearby hotel, thinking they would more likely end up at the psych ward of a hospital.

“He talked a lot,” Buble later told Esquire magazine. “And I wasn’t even paying attention to some of the things he was saying because in my head I was wondering, ‘What am I going to tell the hospital, what am I going to tell my supervisor?’ He’s just blabbering in the back.

“When you encounter someone as famous as him, you expect him to be pompous: ‘This is who I am, don’t do this, don’t you know who I am?’ It was nothing like that, nothing at all. He was modest and calm and chill. … He was nicer than 95 percent of the people I deal with every day.”

You can read about the full encounter below:

Related Articles:
1. When Bob Dylan Met Officer Buble – Esquire
2. 5 stories You Didn’t Know About Bob Dylan, as told by ‘Mr Tambourine Man’ – Huffington Post
3. Dylan’s Desert Island Revue – Final Compilation Release

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Posted in Music

North Brother Mountain

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North Brother Mountain

When we were away on holidays at my Nan’s place in Laurieton – 5 hours north of Sydney, my father had his sights set on trekking down North Brother Mountain. He’d planned it for weeks.

‘It’s gonna be a real adventure.’

‘When did we last have one of those?’

‘Kids, huh what do you say?’

His unbridled enthusiasm matched that of Clark Griswald. He may has well have heralded ‘Wally world, here we come!’

So we set out on our ‘family of four’ adventure and tore and pushed our way through the recalcitrant rain forest scrub on our way down the steep, uneven terrain. For sixty clenched minutes we were pushing through what seemed a living wall of flies, gullies, undergrowth and ferns which kept smacking us in the chops. Fine scratches covered the back of our hands. Then came the rustling and tickling feel of bloodsucking leeches. Our tolerance of these critters wasn’t exactly high so we tried to find the road on the hill which coiled tightly down through the forest. I heard Dad COOEE off to his right. It was an unsettling sound. Oh and I’m sparing you the incessant arguing and bickering which doesn’t need revisiting.

“This is no longer a vacation. It’s a quest. It’s a quest for fun. You’re gonna have fun, and I’m gonna have fun… We’re all gonna have so much f***ing fun we’re gonna need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles!” – Vacation (1983)

Only by good fortune the bush spat us out onto the road. We flagged down a passing motorist and high-tailed it back to the comforts of civilization.

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Posted in Reflections

My Wooden Cutting Board

Cutting BoardJust after breakfast, I developed this fascination with my wooden cutting board. This is where I prepare nearly all my food.

The shades of stains,
the mesh of grooves,
the spread of cutting angles
how one side is more indented than the other,
the alluring smell if you snuck a whiff.
I was entranced.
I marveled at it for well over a minute.

1024px-Chopping_BoardI couldn’t bare to show off a plastic cutting board. So dull and unrefined; no style whatsoever. Even worse would be a brand new wooden cutting board. How demonstrably ugly are those. Look!

Instead in these well-used wooden boards, there is history. I use one side more than the other, slowly sculpting it to become undoubtedly my greatest work of art. The unplayable golf green.

If this bacteria ridden monstrosity doesn’t wet one’s appetite, then nothing will.

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The Story Didn’t Die

I have written it with trepidation. It will cause some readers pain. I do not find my candor, its realism greatly reassuring. I apologise to my readers and most of all my family for the harm it may cause.

People can go around thinking, wondering, planning, worrying and surmising, but unless they work at becoming effective communicators, it will be them alone with their thoughts. I hope this story inspires young men to communicate on a deeper level and feel proud in doing so.

Simply it is about a single male’s world. Its validity is subjective. This doesn’t matter, it’s not the point. What the story aims to demonstrate on a deeper level – in real-life prose – is how a regular man, succumbing to innate desires and self-indulgence, can almost totally destroy himself. However, by retaining one spark of feeling, the feeling of human love, such a man can be brought back to live a fulfilling life.

The moment could have got lost. But it hasn’t. I reclaimed it. The story didn’t die. It is a picture already complete. Never forgotten.
Fact.
Old men forget.
I haven’t. I won’t.
I will never leave this moment behind.

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