Who built the seven gates of Thebes?
The books are filled with names of kings.
Was it the kings who hauled the craggy blocks of stone?
And Babylon, so many times destroyed.
Who built the city up each time? In which of Lima's houses,
That city glittering with gold, lived those who built it?
In the evening when the Chinese wall was finished
Where did the masons go? Imperial Rome
Is full of arcs of triumph. Who reared them up? Over whom
Did the Caesars triumph? Byzantium lives in song.
Were all her dwellings palaces? And even in Atlantis of the legend
The night the seas rushed in,
The drowning men still bellowed for their slaves.
Young Alexander conquered India.
He alone?
Caesar beat the Gauls.
Was there not even a cook in his army?
Phillip of Spain wept as his fleet
was sunk and destroyed. Were there no other tears?
Frederick the Great triumphed in the Seven Years War.
Who triumphed with him?
Each page a victory
At whose expense the victory ball?
Every ten years a great man,
Who paid the piper?
So many particulars.
So many questions.
I was going to post Tigerland, but I didn't think Perseus would be in the mood.
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I took an emo chick to the footy last night. It was her first ever time at the footy. At half-time, listening to me and all the Richmond fans weeping and expressing great pain, she laughed and said, "Yep, Richmond is the team for me."
My Mum rang at half-time as well and said, "I'm worried I'll die before Richmond ever makes the finals."
Why can't you take your dates somewhere decent instead of the footy?
Ramon this song/poem is not very subtle, is it?
Squib, Bert Brecht didn't really "do" subtle.
A: It wasn't a date. She's 19, and my neighbour / house-sitter. There were a group of ten of us there last night.
B: Even if it was a date, I think footy is a most excellent date idea. Meals, alcohol, bars, pubs... those dates are too stressful. Footy is a leveller.
I was thinking of you Perseus. I didn't watch but Clokes was exclaiming frequently how bad it was. I'm sorry for your pain. I hope the coffee was ok.
And Ramon, can I request that you include the author information with the poem? I know often it comes out in the comments, like this time, but I have noticed you tend not to.
The teacher part of me, and the academic part of me as well, want to chastise you and mark you down for not referencing properly.
Ah Melba, but isn't the excitment of the chase, hunting down obscure 19th century Bulgarian love poetry all part of the fun?
Yes, THAT will really cut it with the examinations board!
You want me to make an exception, do you? Treat you differently?
Yes.
Melba: Ponygirl's Dad played for Richmond (briefly) in the 70's when Richmond were the best team - the all-powerful, all conquering mighty Tigers.
He said to me, "Do you want to know why Richmond have been the worst team for the last 25 years?"
I said, "Sure, tell me."
He said, "Because they're fucking bastards."
It's as good a reason as any I've heard.
Richo's not a bastard. He's a nice man. Isn't he?
Glad we understand each other Ramon. I'm flexing my ruler as I write. Which is a little difficult I admit.
Nyerr, nyerr, nyerr, Melba.
Time to go outside and play, Ramon. Do you have your lunch box?
Good, now get out.
*
These cars are doing my head in.
Just for that Melba, next PSF will feature something even more obscure.
Perseus, if any guy took me to the footy on the first date, he wouldn't be getting a second.
Oh, and I saw a statue of you today at the Residenz in Munich. Quite a handsome fellow, with a headless Medusa at your feet!
You're hardly the barometer of what constitutes a good date, Puss.
If on a date I served you green beans, drank a wine, smoked a cigarette or vaccuumed, I wouldn't get a second date with you.
Drinking a wine on a date with me wouldn't not get you a second one. Or even a bottle of wine. Just as long as you didn't write yourself off. And I could deal with being served green beans. I just wouldn't eat them.
Now, if you held your spoon in a fist, or ate chicken with your hands, or ate with your mouth open, or wore a flannel shirt, or tried to beat box, then yeah, you wouldn't get a second date.
But having said that, my partner wore a polo and long shorts on our date and I'm still with him!
If on a date I served you green beans, drank a wine, smoked a cigarette or vaccuumed
What, all at the same time? I might give you a second date* if you could do all that.
* But I wouldn't put out.
Beat-box Puss? Don't tell me a date did that to you? Jesus.
*
But I wouldn't put out.
You tease. Don't be like that. You might enjoy it. I'll still respect you in the morning.
Speaking of which:
Every time I hear Are you old enough? or April sun in Cuba by Dragon, I think of you Perseus.
So what does that mean?
No idea.
Ask Lewd Bob.
He once sang lead vocals with Dragon.
I knew the eating chicken with the hands thing was going to come up.
Every time I hear Are you old enough? or April sun in Cuba by Dragon, I think of you Perseus.
Thanks Boogey you for that "coffee out the nose" hilarity.
Perseus, I asked our resident PE Teacher/ex Richmond player his thoughts on the Tiger's current bad streak and his reply...
" Try not to follow it while I'm over here.. fuckin depressing eh"
I would much prefer a date at the footy (any code) rather than a date at a Sade concert. He certainly didn't get a second pop at the cherry.
Hey, whats wrong with polo shirt and long shorts?
Standard bloody dressing for me.
Unfortunately, it's my partner's standard form of dressing too, bmx. I've sent him back some photos of European men to no avail.
Boogey, a date did indeed subject me to beat-boxing. It wasn't the worst date I ever had though. He still didn't get a second one.
One day, I plan on getting Perseus and myself to take Puss on a (platonic) date. Much hilarity would ensue as we swap ourselves around and she doesn't notice the difference.
It's not that I can't tell the difference. It's just that I scan the comments instead of reading them properly. I'm too busy to pay attention, didn't you know?
*sniff* Puss can't be bothered taking the time to tell the difference between me and Perseus *sniff*. Says she's *sniff* 'too busy' *sniff*.
If you need me I'll be in the conservatory getting squiffy.
I'll join you, Boogey.
Not that I care, but I'm a pathetic lush.
And Pers, I tried to get The Boy interested in the Tiges, but he's suddenly become a mad Essendon fan.
Sorry.
Excellent. I call Reverend Ramon Green and Colonel Perseus Mustard into the conservatory for schnapps, card games, and a short unpleasant conversation with a length of lead piping.
Hrm...I wonder if it was Boogeyman, in the Conservatory, with a Lead Pipe?
Should I send you over some German schnapps to assist in your getting squiffy? I'll address it to Perseus at your address, Boogey.
Glad we understand each other Ramon. I'm flexing my ruler as I write. Which is a little difficult I admit.
You should get a bendy one like mine. It's orange. And what's even better is I didn't have to buy it because I confiscated it. Score!
Do you keep the stuff you confiscate? Aren't you meant to give it back after class?
I'm a CRT, so I don't really get the opportunity to permanently confiscate. But on the plus side, no report writing.
The good stuff I don't get to keep - they tend to remember I've taken that off them and come to get it at the end of the lesson. The other stuff (a football for example, stationery, etc) they don't seem too bothered to have returned to them. Usually if it's got a name on it, it goes back.
I did get to play with a laser pointer for a term a couple of years ago. That was fun.
And I also confiscated a year level's collection of water bombs. I asked them to place them at my feet, and do you know what? They actually did. That never would have happened when I was at school. I was totally prepared for a water fight and a bit disappointed not to get one. Then when they were leaving, one kid asked when they'd be getting the water bombs back! I didn't mean to, but I laughed. I did say sorry for laughing at him.
So far, I've not been able to make good on my promise to sell their iPods or phones on eBay, because they always remember to collect those items, funnily enough.
CRT as in relief teacher? Oh, I'm totally onto that caper. I'm moving in a couple of months and haven't yet got a permanent job, so I'll be doing a lot of relief work. All my colleagues are giving me sympathetic looks about it, but all I can think of is that I can earn a fortnight's rent in one day and not have to write reports. Doesn't sound too shabby to me.
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