Beach, Dinner and Sunset

I went to the beach yesterday with Sasha, Jaimee and Jess. They sunbathed whilst i dug myself a sand-made recliner chair. Yes i was the little kid playing with the sand. We had hoped for a larger turn out but 4 was sufficient in the end. Although there really was no use for the frizbee. Thanks for bringing anyway Jess. After and 'eventful' 2 hours or so we left the beach and jaimee went home after a dispute with her cousin. The remainder of us decided to eat dinner together and by the time we got to a fair ground where we had decided to eat we found it was closing, and adelle had just texted saying she had gone to the beach. So we got her and her car load to meet us at the fair grounds and then all went out for dinner to La Cafe near the botanical gardens. $30 for two helpings of Nachos. It was not cheap. We asked how big the meals were to begin with and were told a dinner plate. Well we got dinner plates but the dinner plates were underneath smaller plates where our nachos sat. But the company was good. After not being very full we decided that pack'n'save would be a perfect place to go and help ourselves to some desert. And after getting some icecream and spoons we headed up hunsbury hill to watch the sun set. I really like watching sunsets, it's such a great reminder of God's divine ability to make something so beautiful, something that must be looked upon in awe, and i am amazed!

Psalm 139

You have looked deep into my heart Lord, and you know all about me.
You know when I am resting or when I am working, and from heaven you discover my thoughts.

You notice everything I do and everywhere I go.
Before I even speak you know what I will say, and with your powerful arm you protect me from every side.

I can’t understand all of this! Such wonderful knowledge is far above me.

Where could I go to escape from your spirit or from your sight?
If I were to climb up to the highest heavens, you would be there.

If I were to dig down to the world of the dead you would be there also.

Suppose I had wings like the dawning day and flew across the ocean.
Even then your powerful arm would guide and protect me.
Or suppose I said, “I’ll hide in the dark until the night comes to cover over me.”
But you see in the dark because daylight and dark are all the same to you.

You are the one who put me together in my mother’s womb, and I praise you because of the wonderful way you created me.
Everything you do is marvelous!
Of this I have no doubt.

Nothing about me is hidden from you!
I was secretly woven together deep in the earth below, but with your eyes you saw my body being formed.
Even before I was born, you had written in your book everything I would do.

Your thoughts are far beyond my understanding, much more than I could ever imagine. I try to count your thoughts, but they outnumber the grains of sand on the beach.
And when I awake, I will find you nearby.

How I wish that you would kill all cruel and heartless people and protect me from them!
They are always rebelling and speaking evil of you. You know I hate anyone who hates you, Lord, and refuses to obey.
They are my enemies too, and I truly hate them.

Look deep into my heart Lord and find out everything I am thinking. Don’t let me follow evil ways, but lead me in the way that time has proven true.




I just finished watching family guy tonight on C4 and the fashion cat walk thingy came on. So i decided to change channels and i happened to stop on Shine. i'm really glad i did! A little presentation came up with many different voices talking and stopping as they each read a line of psalm 139 whilst pictures relating to the verses flicked on and off. I can't remember exactly whether or not they actually read that second to last verse or not but i don't really like it. It's actually the only part of this psalm i didn't like.
"Suppose I had wings like the dawning day and flew across the ocean.
Even then your powerful arm would guide and protect me." and "Look deep into my heart Lord and find out everything I am thinking. Don’t let me follow evil ways, but lead me in the way that time has proven true." are the parts of the psalm that i must confess i like the best. Not sure why. I wonder though does the second to last verse really still have affect in our society today, in the Year of our Lord Jesus Christ? Should i be hating those who reject the word and despise God?

please note - this is not the final copy

I stood back and looked awefully at what I had created. Once such harmony had befallen the entire world I could call my own. That was such a time. A time where love and compassion reigned. For it was not Adam who gave quarrel a name. Such a time was not now. I would look now at my people and see in them the ubiquitous burning desires of man. But in the covert hearts of few I saw something sparkle. I would take that spark and create from it a burning passion to set me free. A passion to release upon this world, a world that in my eyes was once ‘very good’, that which was once lost. A love that once made the 10 horned, 7 headed red dragon shiver in cowardice. I gazed over at the work I was doing in such a man’s heart.

An almost silent prayer could be heard faintly through the ventilation system of the new apartment block, coming from a room that had been recently purchased by what some were calling bigger than Hugh Heifner.

“Om Asatoma Sad Gamaya
Tamasoma Jyoti Gamaya
Myrityoma Amritam Gamaya”

Due to the whispering of the voice and the soft fluttering of the ventilation fan the words were impossible to make out. Maybe by visiting his new neighbours could he satisfy the curiosity newly aroused in him. After thinking through possible consequences, whilst watching the news about Middle Eastern terrorists threatening to kill thousands in pro-American countries, he decided against it. Another day he though. Another day.

Sayyid was notorious in his last place of residence for his hard barginings, his indifference for human decency and his founding of a hugely successful sex industry. The girls he forced to work lived neither an enjoyable nor a happy life. However despite his acquired success he was forced to leave and start else where. Because of nothing he had done, nor perceived would ever happen. He had been exiled because of his son’s ‘wastrel’ attitude toward life. His numinous stories and dreams of which he so affably spoke of were initially thought to be but a sojourn in his path toward true manhood. But alas his phases were not such a vicissitude as they used to be. Sayyid had grown to abhor such discourses with his son. The worst of it however was Sayyid had actually developed an enmity towards his son so powerful that had a sudden anarchy breakout he would hunt his own flesh and blood and leave nothing but the desecrated remains of what would become of his son. He had tried so hard to force his son to conform to the wickedly seductive empire he had created. But to no avail. An empire so great it had changed the world. How many men had not succumbed to the coercive libido aroused within? How many women had not been made labourers in his fields? Yet his own son ostricised himself from it all. Sayyid was ashamed of such a son. He thought to himself of the last possible action. The disownment of his son.

Abd-Al-Rahman finished his prayer in contentment. He had read aloud the prayer as a joke one evening after finding it on a screwed up piece of paper at the bottom of a closet in one of the many spare rooms in his father’s self-titled palace. It was, he thought at the time, the visitor’s last hope of redemption. The question he asked himself now however was whether the visitor was truly of this earth. For was it kismet that his life had been so drastically changed or was it just coincidence? Abd-Al-Rahman had intended to inherit his father’s ‘business’ and make it even greater than his father could even dream of. But that evening after reading aloud the words;

“Om Asatoma Sad Gamaya
Tamasoma Jyoti Gamaya
Myrityoma Amritam Gamaya”

He never forgot those words. They were forever embedded in his soul, never easing his thoughts. It reminded him of the greed he saw in others around him, those he had alienated himself from. Although this constant reminder was one he cradled, it was a beautiful indescribable feeling. That night his rest was so uneasy. Dreams he saw which frightened him so intensely that when waking he found blood pouring from his nose. His dreams were not his own, someone had given them to him. The stranger? He saw in his dream a love so great, so divine, locked up. Buried under the foundations of his father’s kingdom. But the time was drawing near, the chains were swiftly broken and in an upsurge of power the kingdom above fell upon flames. All those within were vexed with burns, diseases, and curses until they, in such misery and anguish, threw themselves into the pit in which Love was previously entrapped. He then saw himself standing in the midst of it all. On one side of him was his father, surrounded by mosquitoes and leeches, beckoning him to stand hither. For the first time in his life Abd-Al-Rahman looked upon his father and saw the evil inside of him. The rotting and decay, the darkness, the burning. He looked into his father’s eyes and found it hard to distinguish the man he had once looked up to from the infectious slugs around him. He then looked to his other side of where he stood. He was fearful of what he saw. Love had stopped its cleansing of filth and turned towards him, offering unto him his hand. Such beauty Abd-Al-Rahman saw in Love’s eyes. Freedom, purity, happiness, salvation. Whom was he to follow? Love was ever so patient and Abd-Al-Rahman was not ignorant of which path was best to trod on, nor was he indifferent of which path he would take. The dreaming had been ephemeral. He did not dream of such things again for many months. Looking back Abd-Al-Rahman was delighted of the choice he had made that evening. His prayer had come alive. For now he lived in light, away from the darkness his father had brought upon him. The truculent castigations he had suffered from those around him were well worth the cost of following the Greatest Love. He had given up his old life, thrown it away.

I heard a man once say

“Sour grapes eaten by parents leave a sour taste in the mouths of their children”

But by looking at the father and the son I tell you now that this child never received that sour taste and nor do any others. The son I look at is truly a son of mine. For wherever I lead he will follow. Even as some kick at him he stays faithful to his master. He would guide blind women over busy streets and eagerly wait at the door for his master to return and feed his soul with truth. I have blessed the son by answering his prayer.

From delusion I led him to truth
from his darkness I led him to light
and from his death I led him to eternal life

But the father is not of this same manner. A brilliant flower would cripple in his presence. He slivers subtly the wicked lies of sin in through the ears of any who dare stop and listen. Moths and Robbers await eagerly for his rotting insides to show. I do not know the father and he chooses not to know me.

Please note: name meanings; ABD-AL-RAHMAN: servant of the merciful

SAYYID: Master

Written by Andrew Wilson ©

Movie or no movie?

Ive had no feed back from me putting the little movie on the side of my blog (bottom of blog if using internet explorer) and i know it gets on my nerves sometimes how it auto plays and ive looked for a way to stop the autoplay but found none, so i'm wanting to know from the readers of the blog should it stay or should it go?

oh movie shouldnt be black like that either, (this is just like that because i screenshot a moving pic) but if you cant see the movie then click on one of my blogging comrades and then wen ur on their site click back, then scroll done and watch movie

The Crusades - of Boss, Undyman, Mongoose and Rayd

Saturday night became a mission for a select few to wreak havic on the sleepy citizens of Bellbird Heights. The mission went well, and it started up 'other' crusades by the unselected. Many photos were taken of sleepy people with very different hair styles than seen in the day, but the photos that stood out are those which took the most effort to get...oh and dave...
(names given to the members of the raid are conceiled by superhero identities, except rayd which im sure everyone knows already)

Now this is amazing!! Undyman 'expressing himself' (being really loud) in the early hours of morning yet there are some who just won't stir.

What's that sound on the roof? hhhheelo? is someone up there?

"oh no, a camera...quickly, pose"

"HEY!! Let me out of here, i'm trapped"

Yay free at last!! now how can i get down? a drop like thats gonna hurt my legs, especially wen im in complete darkness with the exception of that wretched camera's flash

OBY 2005!!

Camp '05 was Awesome!!
It was so awesome just being around people being able to hang out. The rain made it better in my opinion cos it meant we all had to do stuff together and it wasnt just a few people going on the monorail, a few in the swimming pool, a few playing cards, etc. The only problem is i feel a little down now cos im without the company that made my holidays so splendid. Well hopefully i can do something on wednesday with some people that feel the same. Merilyn Whithers ('scuse the spelling if i got it wrong) was an awesome speaker, and i was also amazed at her memory of all our names. Well done Merilyn, u put the icing on the cake.

Next big event is parachute, im really eager to go this year, i know way more bands than i did last year and im interested in most of them. Can't wait.

Went back to school today, I almost fell asleep in accounting last period, not sure if it were because of the late night pranks and talking at camp or because the content of the subject doesnt intrigue me at all. Bit of both i think. I have a new english teacher this term because the last one got pregnant and is going to have her baby some time soon. The teacher seems nice, she was interested to get to know us. I'm going to be doing a creative writing exam this week to try and up my merit to an excellence. It has to be written on 'memories'. I havent decided what memory to do it on yet but i feel confident i can get to my personal excellence, excellence. I aim to study atleast 1 hour a night every weekday this term. Lets hope i keep up to it.

Sasha is leaving for Aus on friday and Amy is leaving for her OE next wednesday. Ill have to see that i can make it to the airport to see them off. It should be easier now that Rachel has bought a new car and Mark doesnt have a license. It means i have full access to the Daihatsu whenever. I'll just have to make sure i have time after school to go. Rachel's new car is a '97 Nissan Bluebird Chateau Pearl (Chateau Pearl is a red colour weirdly enough) for those who are interested. 1800cc manual. I would have bought it if she didnt, it looks a lot better than the Daihatsu. Although the insurance is $700 a year and it uses a lot more petrol than the Charade which is only 1200cc or something.

Well thats me for the last few days, i've got other stuff on my mind but not stuff im willing to share. I guess thats for me to take to God. Janeii

What makes me very angry

I recently received an email which talked about a pornographic movie being made that was about Jesus and the disiples all being homosexuals. The email itself was a petition to ban the movie from being shown in the USA. The movie is called Corpus Christi (the body of Christ). I am outraged that anyone would create a movie so vile. Sure It's a free world but by creating something like this with so much freedom and little resistance from Governments you've lost your free world because it not only mocks our Lord Jesus Christ it also mocks anyone who chooses to follow Him. I can understand that Saul (Paul) hunted down christians way back when, and that obviously wasnt the act of a saint but creating a movie that really defiles the Lord, i cant even use the right words to explain my anger, this is such an occultish act, one filled with so much sin, disgust, satanistic stuff, that i can't even believe satan is that bad. I always imagined him as wrong, as the bad guy, but never as one who would be so evil as to actually tell someone to create a movie that blatently desecrates the Lord Jesus Christ. I am uterly disgusted. It does however make me glad to be a christian, one who will never have to live under satan's rule.

The Desires of a Delinquent

Hanson glared at me tempestuously. Through his eyes, I perceived, I was somewhat responsible for the contingency that had befallen him. I had, as I willingly admit, known of his intense, almost uncontrollable, desire, his lust for Greta. But I was not the epicentre for his misery.

The calamities which had previously taken refuge in Hanson’s mind were ones he greatly abhorred. He had only done what he thought, though he rarely did, was the best to suit his own selfish purposes. But like so many others in this egoistically-spun world he could not constrict the vanity in his heart. The excessive magnitude of drugs he consumed, as the idea where hierarchy, pain and troubles ceased to exist, with the exception of his own autonomous hierarchy, a place where the illusion of a perfect limitless existence without troubles merged with the existence which man perceives and the two realities are entwined together to form a new reality through his mind, and fragments of his true deluded self become but a myth, was not curing him of mental state but developing it. Which in turn made him loathe himself more whenever his mind freed itself from the sanctuary that entangled him therein. For even in its serenity it was truly a demon of the night, though only the sane aspect of what remained in him could see it for what it really was. Thus at times, like his present state, he felt more so depressed of his life than ever had previously felt before.

As a friend of Hanson and of Greta I was asked to acquire through whatever means necessary the tidings of Greta’s heart. As to whether she did indeed feel the need to rest her weary head upon Hanson’s firm shoulder. And if such a feeling was found to be fictional, I should be required to manipulate her thinking into believing that her own faithful heart found its end to a long pursuit for tranquility in his eyes. I felt that as a comrade of this poor deranged but devious delinquent, and also for pity, that would sooth the anguish he felt and thus cure me also of the suffering which was afflicted on me by such pain of another. Hence, I concluded, for the profit of both entities, I should help him to see the truth of his present purpose of existence as was by him deemed.

But I felt that as Greta’s sentinel I should not try to persuade her to think false thoughts. For that was no doubt out of the question. I had left the road of iniquity long ago. But this story resides on the scrutiny of Hanson, not of me. So words were spoken and promises were made. I left Hanson standing silently at the rendezvous watching me leave. Heading straight for Greta’s dwelling, I focused my mind on what needed to be done. I was intent on seeing both Hanson and Greta happy. Upon arriving at the house in which my objective would either be fulfilled or frustrated, I took heed to all the egresses if the discussion should so choose to turn sour. I sat casually on the couch and Greta and I entered into discourse. I was enlightened to the endeavours of her day, and had in words, which I may never repeat due to the empowerment it would have on all those who listen to this story of mine, talked to her of her thoughts concerning Hanson and used persuasion to confess all her desires and her lusts. Hanson was not a large portion of these. In all truth he was but a small quantity of it. Knowing now the truth behind the bars of Greta’s skull I had fulfilled what I had told myself I would do, I would go no further. So bidding Greta adieu, I left and headed to the subsequent rendezvous in which Hanson vigorously rested with a sense of hope sparkling in his eyes.

Entering the dark gloomy room my eyes took a moment to adjust. As my focus came back to me I saw sitting on a chair rocking slowly back and forth, legs slung over the arm, Hanson. He looked miserable. I figured he had already taken into acceptance the news which I had not yet given him. Hanson had already presumed that the news was ominous. I sat down slowly and spoke audibly and truthfully. He cringed at my words but I did not stop. He deserved the truth, at least the truth. So the whole truth I told and took not a breath until I was done. “Thus,” I concluded, “you must advance on your journey without her.” Ouch! The words were Brutus’s dagger. The poor guy was breaking down inside. The azure of his sky had turned red. Hanson glared at me tempestuously. Through his eyes, I perceived, I was somewhat responsible for the contingency that had befallen him.

Written by Andrew Wilson

Butcher Dance

A man spends many years traveling all around the world making a documentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he has every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film. He winds up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he pops into a pub for a well earned beer. He gets talking to one of the local Aborigines and tells him about his project. The Aborigine asks the guy what he thought of the "Butcher Dance." The guy's a bit confused and says, "Butcher Dance? What's that?" "What? You no see Butcher Dance?" "No, I've never heard of it." "Oh mate. You crazy. How you say you film every native dance if you no see Butcher Dance?" "Umm. I got a corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what you mean?" "No no, not corroborree. Butcher Dance much more important than corroborree." "Oh, well how can I see this Butcher Dance then?" "Mate, Butcher Dance right out bush. Many days travel to go see Butcher Dance." "Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepest darkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance." "OK, mate. You drive north along highway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you see dirt track veer off to left. Follow dirt track for 126 miles 'til you see big huge dead gum tree - biggest tree you ever see. Here you gotta leave the car, because much too rough for driving. You strike out due west into setting sun. You walk 3 days 'til you hit creek. You follow this creek to Northwest. After 2 days you find where creek flows out of rocky mountains. Much too difficult to cross mountains here though. You now head south for half day 'til you see pass through mountains. Pass very difficult and very dangerous. Take 2, maybe 3 days to get through rocky pass. When through, head northwest for 4 days 'til reach big huge rock - 20 ft high and shaped like man's head. From rock, walk due west for 2 days and you find village. Here you see Butcher Dance." So the guy grabs his camera crew and equipment and heads out. After a couple of hours he finds the dirt track. The track is in a shocking state and he's forced to crawl along at a snails pace and so he doesn't reach the tree until dusk and he's forced to set up camp for the night. He sets out bright and early the following morning. His spirits are high and he's excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysterious dance which he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he has been given, he reaches the creek after three days and follows it for another two until they reach the rocky mountains. The merciless sun is starting to take its toll by this time and his spirits are starting to flag, but wearily he trudges on until he finds the pass through the hills - nothing will prevent him from completing his life's dream. The mountains prove to be every bit as treacherous as their guide said and at times they almost despair of getting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort they finally force their way clear and continue their long trek. When they reach the huge rock, four days later, their water is running low and their feet are covered with blisters. Yet they steel themselves and head out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtually stagger into the village where the natives feed them and give them fresh water. They begin to feel like new men. Once he's recovered enough, the guy goes before the village chief and tells him that he has come to film there Butcher Dance. "Oh mate. Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance." "Well, when do you hold the next dance?" "Not 'til next year." "Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me, tonight?" "No, no, no! Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. If hold more, gods get very angry and destroy village! You want see Butcher Dance you come back next year." The guy is devastated, but he has no other option but to head back to civilization and back home. The following year, he heads back to Australia and, determined not to miss out again, sets out a week earlier than last time. He is quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensure he is present to witness it. However, right from the start things go wrong. Heavy rains that year have turned the dirt track to mud and the car gets bogged every few miles, finally forcing them to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud on foot almost half the distance to the tree. They reach the creek and the mountains without any further hitch, but halfway through the ascent of the mountain they are struck by a fierce storm which rages for several days, during which they are forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsides. It would be suicide to attempt to scale the treacherous paths in the face of such savage elements. Then, before they have traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of the crew sprains his ankle badly which slows down the rest of their journey enormously, to the rock and then the village. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they have been traveling, they stagger into the village at about 12:00 noon. "The Butcher Dance!" gasps the guy. "Please don't tell me I'm too late!" The chief recognizes him and says "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time." Relieved beyond measure, the crew spends the rest of the afternoon setting up their equipment - preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid as dusk falls, the natives start to cover there bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of bird's feathers and animal skins. Once darkness has settled fully over the land, the natives form a circle around a huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descends over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body enters the circle and begins to chant. Some sort of witch doctor or medicine man, figures the guy and he whispers to the chief, "What's he doing?" "Hush," whispers the chief. "You first white man ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year." The chanting of the Holy man reaches a stunning crescendo before he moves himself from the circle. From somewhere the rhythmic pounding of drums booms out across the land and the natives begin to sway to the stirring rhythm. The guy is becoming caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This is it. He now realizes beyond all doubt that his wait has not been in vain. He is about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind. The chief strides to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, starts to sing, He says, "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in and you shake it all about..."