I meant to post this last night but then I fell asleep. But before I went off to snoozyland a thought struck me: if bird flu does turn into a horrible pandemic that kills off the young and healthy, will hundreds of thousands of Myspace sites serve as a tribute to these dead teens?

I watched the BBC documentary on bird flu on SBS a few hours ago and have been thinking about the possibility of an outbreak ever since. Yes, two hours thinking about bird flu; I lead an exciting life. Subject matter aside, the use of faux drama interspersed with current statistics and prognoses was rather clever, in my opinion. Instead of just being a frightening, but dry (given the science involved) look at what could possibly happen, we were treated to an emotional view of Everyman's experience, from a Cambodian mother old enough to have experienced the brutality of the Khmer Rouge who wouldn't cooperate with authorities (government fear dies hard) and her infected son to upper middle class American deaths and a British backpacker who'd just been after some cheap sun and sand and her mother's reactions after the proposed epidemic. Very effective.

I admit, I'm sceptical of an epidemic approaching the level suggested in the film. While we have far more effective methods of human (and virus) transportation in a world that's easy to navigate over the course of a day or two in the air, we also have tens of thousands of people (at least - possibly more?) who are working to ensure that potential pandemics are caught before they shut down the entire world. Remember SARS? So it wasn't flu, but the predictions of a SARS outbreak were, if I recall correctly, almost as terrible as they are of a H5N5 outbreak. SARS died in the arse sometime back in the early '00s. Sure there have been numerous cases of infected birds in all sorts of exotic locations; from Indonesia to Romania, even the UK. There have been hundreds of cases of bird to human infection. I believe the numbers quoted in the film were 213, of which something like 150 died. Scary mortality rates, but of these 213 cases, not one (that we know of) has mutated into a version of flu that can pass from human to human. Not that I don't think it can happen; by all accounts all that is required for human to human spread is a bird flu virus that has made the leap to a human already infected with flu, with the two viruses mutating and then going on their merry way to kill the rest of us. Of 213 cases - that we know of, and this is important; how many small time farmers with little else to their name have declined to alert authorities after a death in the family? We've all seen the news reports of birds being culled en masse in villages where an outbreak is suspected. If your birds are your livelihood and one of your kids carks it of a disease that may have been caused by the birds, but may just as easily have been caused by his/her poor nutrition, the deplorable sanitary conditions in your shack, some horrible childhood disease or even toxic chemicals from a foreign factory up the road, why would you tell the authorities, knowing that the destruction of your livelihood would result? It's always sad when a kid dies, but it's even worse when you have nine more of them and a wife and the government kills the only means you have to keep the 11 of you fed and housed. So let's say there are more than 213 cases, out of all of these there has been no case of the flu mutating into a human to human disease.

Maybe it's not possible. Maybe it is possible and conditions just aren't right at the moment. Maybe they'll never be. Maybe they'll be right tomorrow and by next month I'll be dead. Even if a mutation does occur, the same fast moving world that will ensure a swift transmission of the virus will also (hopefully) ensure swift eradication of it. With western interests poking their heads about in third world shitholes, handing out expired medicines and Bibles, someone's bound to notice a hideous outbreak that kills disproportionate numbers of the young and healthy; the WHO even has people on the ground to do it. If need be some thoughtful young soldier will machine gun the carriers of the virus out in the jungle, keeping a test case or two for CDC researchers to study and dissect. No one misses the very poor. The problem is that in the meantime others will have gotten away to infect the rest of the population. Maybe. Poor people travel, sure, they've got to get their birds to market, but it may be that these poor people are just too sick to travel. Maybe the ones heading off to market are the few who, for some reason, aren't infected with the disease. Maybe the quarantine area set up by the local authorities and WHO - and the large quantity of ammunition - will ensure that despite the flu's best efforts, it doesn't go beyond some shithole village in a country no one cares about.

On the other hand, maybe we're all fucked.

What's really been eating me up is the thought of all the suffering to potentially be endured, not just by the dying (at least their pain is over after a few agonising last days) but by those who survive. People in the third world will, as always, bury their dead, weep and get on with it; in larger numbers, sure, but it'll be business as usual for those who really know suffering. We in the West haven't been exposed to death on a large scale, at least not those of us in our 40s, 30s, 20s, teens. We all read _Anne Frank's Diary_ in school, we heard about the tragedy of Hiroshima, we studied Vietnam. Those of us lucky enough to have been educated by the progressives will also be acquainted with various third world struggles, the plight of the Aborigines, possibly America's slaves, the vicious destroyer of souls that is the Zionist Entity, and more. But we don't know the kind of suffering that our grandparents experienced during the WW1 and 2. We don't know what it is to lose our friends, our family to outbreaks of diseases that don't have vaccines because medical science hasn't yet discovered them. We don't worry about losing our younger sister to dysentry because our family can't afford the 20c for whatever the hell it is that will keep her alive. Yeah, sure we all "lost our innocence" during 9/11, and the attacks since. Columbine was a real wakeup, a few dozen young lives tragically lost, the pain, the pain, the pain! But the number of people dead in these incidents is never enough to affect a great number of the population. Sure, we mourn, but not for people close to us; the media ensures that we'll cry, we'll pretend to care, we'll wonder why we're on this earth at all. And then we'll get bored and go play a video game.

So maybe this is our chance to finally feel loss. That scares me. I don't think I believe in God, or any higher power, but I can't help but feel that maybe we've had it too good for too long; maybe it's finally our generation's turn to feel the pain that most people in the world feel on a regular basis, that our grandparents felt. Which is silly, I know. I should probably go to sleep, but I know that while I'm trying to sleep I'll be thinking about privilege and death and pain. That should make for some excellent dreams.

You should not smell like a department store

This probably makes me sound odd, but I absolutely hate going out on the weekend. Being crowded into some crappy bar by a bunch of weekday working jerkoffs letting off steam is not how I like to spend my time. I'd say part of the problem is that I'm limited to doing that with my successful (and I do mean successful with their double degrees and Very Important Positions in life, fuckwits) or being with the scroungy hipster bums and their equally cool acquaintances.

These aren't bad people, far from it. I'm just a picky arsehole.

So we're down near the quay with all the pretty people. The women in their godamn skinny jeans and impossibly expensive stilettos and those bloody highlights. What is it with women and highlights? They almost always look like you've taken that nasty hair mascara that was totally fashionable about five years ago and really gone to town with it. Seriously, it looks awful, especially when your hair is blowdryed straight so the striped effect is really clear. And the men with their... fuck. What is wrong with men? They're all primped and preened and spend as much effort and money on their appearance as women. Metrosexuals were funny at first, very funny. Now they're just gross. Please stop hitting on me, I'm not attractive or well groomed enough to warrant your attention.

That's what cracks me up - these guys have gone to all the effort involved in making for themselves a sophisticated city look and personality and they're the same sleazy bastards they always were, but with a $300 shirt and a copy of The Idiot's Guide to Sinatra and Co tucked away on the bookshelf behind the requisite collection of classics and trendy recent authors. The smells! I'm strange in that I need to smell people. I cannot be with someone for more than a few minutes without trying to smell them. This has gotten me in trouble before. But who cares if you're being sniffed at midnight when you're half pissed anyway? So I sniff. Why is it that I can smell ten different smells when I sniff you? Why can I detect Pantene, sandalwood soap, a deodorant with some sort of "fresh" smell to it, hair sculpting crap with the nauseating odour of overripe peaches and whatever the hell you sprayed on yourself before walking out the door? I think it may have been something by Tommy Hillfigger. You look like the sort of guy to wear Tommy Hillfigger cologne.

Do not call me. I gave you my number because I was swayed by the pretty cocktail you bought me or the three that followed. I realise that I am a significant (drunken) investment in terms of time, and perhaps in money. But you told me you worked as an analyst with a fairly well known institution. You emphasised how well your career was going, you wanted me to know you were rolling in it. I was tempted to introduce you to my friend who is already plotting to take over the HR outsourcing place she works in. You two would have really hit it off.

Friend: I like money. I have lots of money and my tits are still perky. I spend my money on expensive shoes. I want to be Carrie Bradshaw.
Guy: I like money too. I spend mine on my expensive city apartment and going out. I also like to invest aggressively. Do you swalow?
Friend: Only if there's something in it for me. Tell me, how much are you worth? Can you get reservations at a restaurant of my choice? Will you pick up the tab?
Guy: Yes. Let me tell you about Frank Sinatra's greatest work. I spent a long time reading about this in order to impress the women. I must share with you my smooth moves and knowledge of music that will make me look cool.
Friend: My $18 drink is finished. Buy me another one.

I'm tired. And I think I've drunk enough water to negate the effects of a hangover so off to bed.

My immaturity is showing

I want a job. I need money of my own. I called a friend to see if she knew anyone who was hiring and she was quite excited as the girl who was working shifts with her at this nice little cafe quit and there's an opening that's being filled by the owner's daughter for a few weeks. She can't keep it up as she has too much going on at school (final year) so my friend could put in a good word for me and I'd be a waitress. I asked her what the pay was. She told me. I told her to get stuffed.

So then I rang my dad "dad, make one of your friends hire me and pay me well".

It's funny, I've ranted on forever about the entitlement brats and their obnoxious ways without really noticing I'd turned into one.

I think there comes a time when being directionless and umotivated becomes a liability rather than just another charming side of someone's personality. I suppose some would argue that it's always a liability, that no one deserves a grace period, but we all mature in different ways. I've been living on my own for years, can make stupid decisions without any help, I've been to a fair few places, I know how to clean a shower. Important things. My brother doesn't know any of this stuff and he's only a few years younger than me. He didn't want go to uni, deciding to work instead and has held a steady series of low paying jobs while living rent free with our parents since dropping out of school. He knows how to be employed in menial, unsatisfying jobs. I know how to drop out of uni several times over. I'm not sure where I'm going with this.

Responsibility, that's it. I have very little, he has very little, my sister has very little. Our parents didn't do a bad job, we went to good schools, no horrible childhood trauma, yet... who knows? And I haven't slept for close to 36 hours. Sweet.

Food

I am increasingly unwilling to settle for fast food or those instant meals that just require milk, water or a few minutes in the microwave to cook. I think I'm becoming a food snob.

The thing is, making a meal from scratch is hardly more difficult than buying it or making it from a packet, and almost always cheaper. Take tonight's meal: roasted chicken with root vegetables (pumpkin, parsnip, potato and onion), steamed broccoli and beans, tomato chutney and homemade bread (admittedly, made by a friend, not me). I have enough left over to freeze for five more meals and the prep time was only about half an hour with a few hours for the cooking itself. It tastes amazing and I know that there are no nasties lurking in my dinner. The meal cost very little to make as well, probably no more than $15 (I don't really look at grocery receipts, but the chicken was something like $10 and the vegies are never expensive).

I am very happy, and very, very satisfied.

Tomorrow's dinner will be lamb cutlets with polenta, more of that chutney and steamed broccolini. Polenta generally takes 15 minutes to cook, the little cutlets only need to be done in the pan for 5 minutes and the broccolini will take another 10 minutes in prep + cooking time.

I have so many things planned for my kitchen. Thai curries, couscous salad, pasta with chilis and parmesan, spag bol! Yum yum.