For the boys at the redbacks

THINKING CAPS, UNFILLED POSITIONS AND FOOTBALL

 

(Continued from my last post:)

 

So I flipped the book over and began to write again.

 

See the thing is now I’ve bought my book but I’ve run out of paper so I’ll have to write it backwards.  That’s how we want to wear our caps.  They will simply say, “I’ve …    ……..    ..”and we will wear them backwards. This signifies our admission of past follies, and the need to enter into a period of great, and even accelerated, reversal.  (Writing backwards) is recycling or my version of it.  It’s probably not the best way.  As for me, I’m just thinking out of the box. 

 

 

 

“I dream dreams of what might be

 

if only people try.”

 

 

 

I know I already wrote that , but sometimes you just have to keep saying the same things over and over again.  Another reason why the caps are backwards is this:  people from other states of Australia often look down upon or make fun of people from Queensland.  Or at least that’s been my experience anyway.  Here’s a question for all of the good folks South of the border.  You call us banana benders but how straight are your bananas.  I mean, I’ve never really had to bend one myself.  That’s just the way we grow them up in Queensland.

 

 

 

I’d like to make a few comments like that, just make someone laugh a little.  I am unafraid to make fun of myself.  I don’t really mind if you make fun of me either.  But at some point, people just have to put aside stupid differences and rally around each other, and offer them more support.  My notebook goes on to detail some plans for T shirts:

 

 

 

Ideally, they would be made by people who don’t have a lot of money, who are disadvantaged in some way and are interested in doing something just to make a name for themselves.

 

 

            That long and lonely day I had also written a couple of texts to some friends, but as per usual, there were no replies.  Probably my texts were a bit difficult to understand, and my friends might have been confused as to what exactly I wanted.

 

 

 

              My texts, if you are interested, read a bit like this: to my co-worker Simon, to my boss Bobby and a guy called Thomas, who I have only met once:

 

              Hey guys, I want you to work things outPS get a paper cup, and wr

 

              Please write Reef Relief on it, This is for me, for you, for everyone

 

              Hope U got last MSG, im Start up A new soCiAL median campaign

 

              Its about the Great Barrier Reef in my state

 

              Im starting a charity in Japan, that goes to Oz, and then goes viral

 

And, this, to an old friend who ran a second hand bookshop

 

             Hey mate, Ive started a book called ……  ..

 

             …………………………………………………………….

 

             I ve started writing it Thru e mails.  Youve never been to place

 

             Do you want to come over, Its for literacy projects and the GBreef

 

             When we moved those books I was taking concrete steps of love

 

I’m not sure what you, dear reader, would have made of any of that yourself..  I don’t even understand my texts (actually, I do).   Last time I talked to my boss he said he still didn’t quite get it.  I texted him back, because he’s a Christian and a dreamer, that he should

 

           Pray for understandingwhen you see the cup.

 

I think he’s still waiting for further instructions : )  So, back to that day, I kept writing in my notebook notes to my inner self like:

 

I’m an advocate for responsible media use, living in Japan, who is interested in meeting other people who believe in demonstrating one’s beliefs through small acts of kindness.

 

I think I was basically advertising my services for positions that others didn’t even know needed to be filled.  Any jobs going right now for a would be ethical humanist?  If you know of someone in need of such a person, please don’t hesitate to email me at aladdinjapan@gmail.ccom or simply drop me a line.  Here’s my business card.  (I eventually used these old company business cards, with my email address and my phone number scrawled upon them.  I gave them away to the most unlikely of people, like my old shogi teacher at the coffee shop.  Hey, master, give me a phone call any time I want a coffee, or need a game of shogi.I’m sure he didn’t know what to make of them.)

 

“Well, what about the Nagoya Redbacks AFL team,” I scribbled, “maybe they’d like to get behind a charity” (or a charity case like myself.)  “ I hope the Redbacks support me.  I only played one game but I did, apparently, pull a couple of votes for 3rd best-on-ground.”

 

 

 

Like a lot of my misguided forays into the world of organized support, the game itself was a bit of an embarrassment.  I turned up with a Chinese boy and a Japanese skater to make up numbers.  The Chinese boy, an old home stay student of my parents, disappeared before the game began.  He literally went walking away somewhere into the mountains.  I kept trying to contact him, with no response.Finally, I found out what happened.He had fallen into some water somewhere and got his shoes wet.  He turned up again just after half time.  The other guy’s name was Shinya.  He used to hang out down by a small park where I used to walk my dog.  I used to let the skaters play ball with my dog, while I talked shit with these young social miscasts.  At one time, we talked about going into business together, selling defective cars (but not THAT defective, he told me).  The deal fell through for various reasons.  For one thing, I probably didn’t have as much money as Shinya might have hoped.  My confidence in Shinya’s business plan also floundered when his beautiful, brand new looking small sports car suddenly stalled and was unable to be restarted.  Finally, both those guys pissed me off when Sher and Shinya left me standing in the rain for over 40 minutes waiting for them to pick me up.(Sher had been busy getting his hair styled, it turned out, and there were a few shops to check out along the way.)

 

Oh yeah, the score was about 156 to 6.  Our team were the 6, and those were all behinds.  For myself, I ran around like a crazy person, chasing a ball whose next destination I found almost impossible to predict.  I made a couple of valiant attempts at tackles and took a bit of skin off my knees.And I got my first kick of the game 2 minutes before the final whistle blew- a kick that went about 10 meters forward and 20 meters up.  The banana bender put up a bomb!  Best Queenslander on ground, at least!  But the boys weren’t too disappointed as without me and my two fellow ring ins, the game would have been cancelled.  Happily, the Redbacks took revenge upon the same opposition the following season.  With the proper list they won handily by three or four goals- and they didn’t even need my help.

 

Then my friend CP rang.

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