They just keep delivering the good stuff.
Here's a short excerpt from the intro (pg3/4) to the current Quarterly Essay "His Master’s Voice: The corruption of Public Debate under Howard" by David Marr.
"At the heart of democracy is a contest of conversations. The tone of a democracy is set by the dialogue between a nation and its leaders. For the last decade, Australia has had a prime minister who thinks it beneath him to admit mistakes…
But after being belittled for most of his political career, Howard came to power determined public debate would be conducted on his terms. They are subtle, bizarre and at times brutal. This essay is about those terms and why Australians put up with them. Since 1996, Howard has cowed his critics, muffled the press, intimidated the ABC, gagged scientists, silenced non-government organisations, neutered Canberra’s mandarins, curtailed parliamentary scrutiny, censored the arts, banned books, criminalised protest and prosecuted whistleblowers."
This is just him warming up. There's a great essay here, and also really enjoyable, rhythmic writing. Just the thing to go with watching Deadwood.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Another Perspective
Riddle me this Batman....
Isn't hindsight great!?
It's not really a riddle is it? Here's the riddle - how can I access the clarity and wisdom of hindsight in the moment??
hmmmm.... trust me, if I figure that out, you can see my on my speaking tour of the universe!
So I'm home crook from work, tucked up nice and warm, looking back over a couple of rough weeks - which were so hard to move through day by day, and going "oh yeah - that would be when I started getting sick again!" There it is. Chronic conditions may take a holiday, but they never leave completely.
It's not enough that the horrid nausea and pains are back - but worse even is that I feel like I short-changed the lovely lovely Julian who drove all the way up to stay for a few days. I was so very worried he would get lost, or eaten by trolls, or squished by a semi. Thankfully, none of those things happened at all, and he arrived jubilantly - his normal cheerful and charming self. He won over the entire extended clan to his fanclub within 20 minutes of meeting any of them. It was great fun to tour him around the farm, and the area. He seemed honestly joyful, and it was a pleasure to share his interest. He had an amazing time before he got here - driving up from Sydney through the inland road, staying at Armidale, and after leaving us heading to Mount Tambourine (in the hinterland towards the Gold Coast) and hence to Coffs Harbour in northern NSW. I remember Coffs as being a totally top-town so I hope he's enjoying his time there. I am honoured that we were included in his itinerary, and grateful that he took my illness in his stride.
I HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT JULIAN BEAT ME FAIR AND SQUARE AT SCRABBLE.
He made some corkers over the triple-word stars let me tell you.
Just in case you've been wondering - no rain. NO RAIN. The one remaining bonsai receives ever more care. The jacaranda is hanging in with us (getting the odd bucket of grey water) but I've had a heart-searching session, and the fig bonsai has become a totem of hope at the moment. It is continuing to thrive through the winter, as I've moved it into the sunroom. I move it to the window ledge for the day (careful - they can be burnt by winter sun through glass) then away from the cold glass at night. Right now it's outside in the normal sun soaking in a bowl of icy tank water, feeling the wind on its bark. Yes, it gets more attention than I give my hair.
The six-month date of moving to the farm ticked by on June 20th. No biggie. (yeah right!) I still feel so homesick sometimes - but I know it's only for the very very goodest-things from before. I have forgotten the boring and icky bits quite easily. Really good friends are hard to replace. Invisible computer things help a lot, but they never make up for dinners and hugs. Well, love works in strange ways, and despite how blue and brown I've been lately, well, I still do trust that things will all work out.
Naive? Perhaps.
Isn't hindsight great!?
It's not really a riddle is it? Here's the riddle - how can I access the clarity and wisdom of hindsight in the moment??
hmmmm.... trust me, if I figure that out, you can see my on my speaking tour of the universe!
So I'm home crook from work, tucked up nice and warm, looking back over a couple of rough weeks - which were so hard to move through day by day, and going "oh yeah - that would be when I started getting sick again!" There it is. Chronic conditions may take a holiday, but they never leave completely.
It's not enough that the horrid nausea and pains are back - but worse even is that I feel like I short-changed the lovely lovely Julian who drove all the way up to stay for a few days. I was so very worried he would get lost, or eaten by trolls, or squished by a semi. Thankfully, none of those things happened at all, and he arrived jubilantly - his normal cheerful and charming self. He won over the entire extended clan to his fanclub within 20 minutes of meeting any of them. It was great fun to tour him around the farm, and the area. He seemed honestly joyful, and it was a pleasure to share his interest. He had an amazing time before he got here - driving up from Sydney through the inland road, staying at Armidale, and after leaving us heading to Mount Tambourine (in the hinterland towards the Gold Coast) and hence to Coffs Harbour in northern NSW. I remember Coffs as being a totally top-town so I hope he's enjoying his time there. I am honoured that we were included in his itinerary, and grateful that he took my illness in his stride.
I HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT JULIAN BEAT ME FAIR AND SQUARE AT SCRABBLE.
He made some corkers over the triple-word stars let me tell you.
Just in case you've been wondering - no rain. NO RAIN. The one remaining bonsai receives ever more care. The jacaranda is hanging in with us (getting the odd bucket of grey water) but I've had a heart-searching session, and the fig bonsai has become a totem of hope at the moment. It is continuing to thrive through the winter, as I've moved it into the sunroom. I move it to the window ledge for the day (careful - they can be burnt by winter sun through glass) then away from the cold glass at night. Right now it's outside in the normal sun soaking in a bowl of icy tank water, feeling the wind on its bark. Yes, it gets more attention than I give my hair.
The six-month date of moving to the farm ticked by on June 20th. No biggie. (yeah right!) I still feel so homesick sometimes - but I know it's only for the very very goodest-things from before. I have forgotten the boring and icky bits quite easily. Really good friends are hard to replace. Invisible computer things help a lot, but they never make up for dinners and hugs. Well, love works in strange ways, and despite how blue and brown I've been lately, well, I still do trust that things will all work out.
Naive? Perhaps.
Friday, July 06, 2007
One pill makes you larger...
I have to talk to you.
Right now I'm wound up so tight it's hurting. Nausea. Nothing's wrong - just a bout of mild mania. Too excited, too loud, too up, too too much altogether. If I can stay with it, it should all settle in an hour or so. Do you have this? What do you do with this jaggy time, this burstingness?
Icky Thump is on the player and I'll assemble the new desk gadget for holding pieces of paper.
Hilarious moment this morning - beat-up old Torana in 70s porn metallic bronze - complete with fluffy dice and roo-bar parked out front of the Trash City Council building. Hi-l-arious. Gotta snap of it for posterity.
Thanks for listening.
Right now I'm wound up so tight it's hurting. Nausea. Nothing's wrong - just a bout of mild mania. Too excited, too loud, too up, too too much altogether. If I can stay with it, it should all settle in an hour or so. Do you have this? What do you do with this jaggy time, this burstingness?
Icky Thump is on the player and I'll assemble the new desk gadget for holding pieces of paper.
Hilarious moment this morning - beat-up old Torana in 70s porn metallic bronze - complete with fluffy dice and roo-bar parked out front of the Trash City Council building. Hi-l-arious. Gotta snap of it for posterity.
Thanks for listening.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
You Are in the RIGHT place
Re-arranged the furniture, that's all.
On a philosophical note - the title of this post makes for a "all our toasts are buttered" kind of futuristic-positivitistic slogan that I want to see on muscle shirts....
Do you think I can licence it to Blue Sun?
Embrace and Extend.
On a philosophical note - the title of this post makes for a "all our toasts are buttered" kind of futuristic-positivitistic slogan that I want to see on muscle shirts....
Do you think I can licence it to Blue Sun?
Embrace and Extend.
Birds & Bees
Animals are so great - really, so very great.
For example, today I learnt a lot more about bees.
I didn't realise that there were so many social elements to managing a bee hive. Nor that when a new queen starts out, there's a 3 hour orgy of sperm harvesting before she settles down for a lifetime of happy-hive making. Kewl!
Also, I made a clay owl today. A kinda 2d-3d owl. Not a sculpture, more a wall hanging. I may break the unwritten and arbitary rule about this blog not having pictures, just to share this little akimbo character with you. Craft about animals - life can be very very good!
For example, today I learnt a lot more about bees.
I didn't realise that there were so many social elements to managing a bee hive. Nor that when a new queen starts out, there's a 3 hour orgy of sperm harvesting before she settles down for a lifetime of happy-hive making. Kewl!
Also, I made a clay owl today. A kinda 2d-3d owl. Not a sculpture, more a wall hanging. I may break the unwritten and arbitary rule about this blog not having pictures, just to share this little akimbo character with you. Craft about animals - life can be very very good!
Brush with (in)Fame(y)
Argh!
I'm waddling down the street to lunch in penguin black with OTT ear-rings (bitta bling darh-ling - for hump day don't you know) and it's PAULINE HANSON heading up the pavement t'wards me. Sometimes it's so annoying being a redhead.
Damn.
Things you see when you don't have a decent immigration policy on you.
I'm waddling down the street to lunch in penguin black with OTT ear-rings (bitta bling darh-ling - for hump day don't you know) and it's PAULINE HANSON heading up the pavement t'wards me. Sometimes it's so annoying being a redhead.
Damn.
Things you see when you don't have a decent immigration policy on you.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Waiting in Ipswich
On my way to work this morning I was reflecting on the easy pace of life in regional Qld. Thongs. Warm winters (24 today!). School holidays. Low expectations. Shorts.
Walking up the mall, I noticed people waiting outside of the phone shop ... just waiting for it to open. Thursday - it's always the bank... pension day is an event here. I'm never here early enough - but apparently there's always folk waiting to get into the newsagents as well. Same thing at the Gallery all the time - people waiting for the doors to open at 10.
"Gotta get me another look at that d'Arcy Doyle."
Gagging to get in they are - particularly during the school holidays. That's a real measure of how much of "nothing else on" there is. No traffic to contend with - absolutely nothing else in your way. Get up and start the day. I'm not talking about queueing here - just waiting. Having a durrie. Watching the traffic. Sunning. Bogan Lizards.
I walked a different way this morning, and had to laugh. There's a clutch of kids waiting for "Netgames" to open and whiling away the time with a joint. How sweet youth is. Not a bad strategy either if I can step out of my "can't believe I have to go to work" jealousy of them - coz we all know that the police never walk up this way - they're concentrated one block back towards the station at the courthouse. I had to go past the courthouse too, and whaddya know - but there's the channel 9 news cameraman sitting and waiting. Both ends of the activity spectrum and consequences. There's a lot of waiting in this town. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting until you get moved along, waiting for the next payment. Waiting for some attention or interest. Maybe wondering if it'll be you who blows this time from the boredom.
Or you could be one of the button-ups waiting outside the library and circumventing the process with a different form of escapism. Go the nerd approach!
And then I stopped laughing and stopped looking at my phone for a moment because I realised that I am always waiting now too - for a new message to respond to, for someone to show me some attention, for something interesting to happen, because I cannot provide this for myself at the moment.
Is there something in the water here?
Goaded by this moment of clarity, I've bought another timer, so I can make the loud tick-tick noise at my desk that seems to be such a primal motivator for me to get things done. The tick-tick-tick that is unstoppable says to me "GO NOW!" even a single incandescent 5 minutes in this day turns it back into life and away from the numbness of waiting.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Walking up the mall, I noticed people waiting outside of the phone shop ... just waiting for it to open. Thursday - it's always the bank... pension day is an event here. I'm never here early enough - but apparently there's always folk waiting to get into the newsagents as well. Same thing at the Gallery all the time - people waiting for the doors to open at 10.
"Gotta get me another look at that d'Arcy Doyle."
Gagging to get in they are - particularly during the school holidays. That's a real measure of how much of "nothing else on" there is. No traffic to contend with - absolutely nothing else in your way. Get up and start the day. I'm not talking about queueing here - just waiting. Having a durrie. Watching the traffic. Sunning. Bogan Lizards.
I walked a different way this morning, and had to laugh. There's a clutch of kids waiting for "Netgames" to open and whiling away the time with a joint. How sweet youth is. Not a bad strategy either if I can step out of my "can't believe I have to go to work" jealousy of them - coz we all know that the police never walk up this way - they're concentrated one block back towards the station at the courthouse. I had to go past the courthouse too, and whaddya know - but there's the channel 9 news cameraman sitting and waiting. Both ends of the activity spectrum and consequences. There's a lot of waiting in this town. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting until you get moved along, waiting for the next payment. Waiting for some attention or interest. Maybe wondering if it'll be you who blows this time from the boredom.
Or you could be one of the button-ups waiting outside the library and circumventing the process with a different form of escapism. Go the nerd approach!
And then I stopped laughing and stopped looking at my phone for a moment because I realised that I am always waiting now too - for a new message to respond to, for someone to show me some attention, for something interesting to happen, because I cannot provide this for myself at the moment.
Is there something in the water here?
Goaded by this moment of clarity, I've bought another timer, so I can make the loud tick-tick noise at my desk that seems to be such a primal motivator for me to get things done. The tick-tick-tick that is unstoppable says to me "GO NOW!" even a single incandescent 5 minutes in this day turns it back into life and away from the numbness of waiting.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
What a week!
Little Zac the Eager Cat in a paroxysm of pleasure launched himself at the wood stove last night - perhaps expecting that if it was so very comfy right next to the fire - sitting atop it would be nirvana. Well the speed at which he approached his destination was nothing to how quickly he left it! Poor little one has burnt pads on his front paws, but the rear ones are fine - must have used the "Cats Only 9 Lives Propulsion Power" for the FTL exit.
Someone who wasn't so lucky was the cow who died in the dam. She's in the cow morgue awaiting identification. CSI preliminary report suggests she went down the steep embankment to brunch on the bull rushes and get a drink, lost her balance, slid in, and due to the steepness and sticky mud, couldn't climb free. Her cries for help unable to attract anyone with opposable thumbs, she drowned. No suspicious circumstances, just a tragedy. (I'm grateful that Dad didn't suffer the same fate trying to get her out. Some things ought not be attempted by a man alone with a tractor).
That she died one day or so before we had three solid days of rain just compounds the pain. Our neighbour has fenced off his dam for this reason, and we're thinking of doing so too now. What a horrible senseless way to die. I've never been able to reconcile myself to this part of farm life.
We have had some rain, and that's the good news. There's a tinge of green back in the landscape, and even the soft sound of it on the roof was a sensual pleasure. No frog calls yet - normally they'd be croaking up a storm, but there's just the rain and the sound of it falling into the tank. Where are you froggies? Please don't all be gone - please don't let that have come to pass.
Hump day. So very humpish today too. There's a chocolate coated cherry (or more if I don't share) waiting for me tonight to balm away the hours until the next attempt at being a citizen. I really am such a worthless bag of meat waddling around. I don't mean this in a bad way - just calling it how I see it. Perhaps the chocolate will help me recalibrate to a shinier, happier state. In the words of the great philosopher John Denver, "some days are diamonds, some days are stones".
Someone who wasn't so lucky was the cow who died in the dam. She's in the cow morgue awaiting identification. CSI preliminary report suggests she went down the steep embankment to brunch on the bull rushes and get a drink, lost her balance, slid in, and due to the steepness and sticky mud, couldn't climb free. Her cries for help unable to attract anyone with opposable thumbs, she drowned. No suspicious circumstances, just a tragedy. (I'm grateful that Dad didn't suffer the same fate trying to get her out. Some things ought not be attempted by a man alone with a tractor).
That she died one day or so before we had three solid days of rain just compounds the pain. Our neighbour has fenced off his dam for this reason, and we're thinking of doing so too now. What a horrible senseless way to die. I've never been able to reconcile myself to this part of farm life.
We have had some rain, and that's the good news. There's a tinge of green back in the landscape, and even the soft sound of it on the roof was a sensual pleasure. No frog calls yet - normally they'd be croaking up a storm, but there's just the rain and the sound of it falling into the tank. Where are you froggies? Please don't all be gone - please don't let that have come to pass.
Hump day. So very humpish today too. There's a chocolate coated cherry (or more if I don't share) waiting for me tonight to balm away the hours until the next attempt at being a citizen. I really am such a worthless bag of meat waddling around. I don't mean this in a bad way - just calling it how I see it. Perhaps the chocolate will help me recalibrate to a shinier, happier state. In the words of the great philosopher John Denver, "some days are diamonds, some days are stones".
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Dogs Bring People Together
Neil Gaiman blogged today about walking his dog:
You know, the best bit of having wound up with a dog, apart from the dog of course, is the walking. There are whole worlds out there I hadn't known about until I started walking them..."
and it reminded me of an incident from this morning. Sitting at my desk I could hear a dog howling and out the window there are these two beautiful hounds, wrapped around a pole with a bit of baling twine in the cold. Shivering and howling. Well what could I do but go out there to comfort them and see if I could possibly see who would leave them stranded like this (my window looks out onto the main street of the town).
Head sideways out from the door of the postoffice a straggly man watches me.
"Hey! These your dogs?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna be real long?"
"Nah" he walks towards me and he's dirt poor this guy, and nervous looking. "I'm looking for a stanthorpe phone book." (this is like saying - I'm hoping all my needs in the world are handed to me wrapped in silk)
"oh yeah, you findin one?"
"Nah".
"Right... you need a phone number?"
"Yeah."
"Well these dogs can't stay in the cold, I can look 'em up for you."
Eventually he comes in and perches on my visitor chair and we plug a few names into the whitepages online. He asks me how to spell Michelle. Lots of the people have the same surname.
"Plenty of these Clancy people."
"Yeah, we're a family of ten."
"Try Sonya" he says.
"S. Clancey," I type "where does she live?"
"Sydney" he says so I enter NSW
"Which Suburb?"
He looks right at me and just says "Sydney"
"It's a real big town" I say, "you're gonna need a suburb." But he doesn't know.
Here we are : I help him so his dogs aren't cold, and he's trying to find the phone numbers of some of his brothers and sisters whose names he can't spell for certain and who live god only knows where. He got 5 or 6 tho, and went on his way, and I'm still not sure that he was glad for the help for the truth it cost us both.
By the way Neil - congratulations on picking up the Locus awards for best short story & best collection. You so rock. And you have a cool dog.
You know, the best bit of having wound up with a dog, apart from the dog of course, is the walking. There are whole worlds out there I hadn't known about until I started walking them..."
and it reminded me of an incident from this morning. Sitting at my desk I could hear a dog howling and out the window there are these two beautiful hounds, wrapped around a pole with a bit of baling twine in the cold. Shivering and howling. Well what could I do but go out there to comfort them and see if I could possibly see who would leave them stranded like this (my window looks out onto the main street of the town).
Head sideways out from the door of the postoffice a straggly man watches me.
"Hey! These your dogs?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna be real long?"
"Nah" he walks towards me and he's dirt poor this guy, and nervous looking. "I'm looking for a stanthorpe phone book." (this is like saying - I'm hoping all my needs in the world are handed to me wrapped in silk)
"oh yeah, you findin one?"
"Nah".
"Right... you need a phone number?"
"Yeah."
"Well these dogs can't stay in the cold, I can look 'em up for you."
Eventually he comes in and perches on my visitor chair and we plug a few names into the whitepages online. He asks me how to spell Michelle. Lots of the people have the same surname.
"Plenty of these Clancy people."
"Yeah, we're a family of ten."
"Try Sonya" he says.
"S. Clancey," I type "where does she live?"
"Sydney" he says so I enter NSW
"Which Suburb?"
He looks right at me and just says "Sydney"
"It's a real big town" I say, "you're gonna need a suburb." But he doesn't know.
Here we are : I help him so his dogs aren't cold, and he's trying to find the phone numbers of some of his brothers and sisters whose names he can't spell for certain and who live god only knows where. He got 5 or 6 tho, and went on his way, and I'm still not sure that he was glad for the help for the truth it cost us both.
By the way Neil - congratulations on picking up the Locus awards for best short story & best collection. You so rock. And you have a cool dog.
Windy Whistling Weather
The wyrd wefer from down south has made its way to us i fink.
the wind winds around the windows and wails at being locked out tonight.
Words.
I'm doing quite a lot of words these days. Actually I love this, but I am very much "paying my dues", it's not the glamour end of town I can tell you.
Example: 3 different 100 word blurbs on the same thing. None quite right, but no actual content related problem feedback. No worries say I, I'll do them again tomorrow. Also on the list - 300 word blurb on same topic. Last week? 3 different blurbs on a different same topic. Press release, radio ad scripts and a fluff "lifestyle" piece that gets described as "editorial" (? I always thought editorial was written by editors - not advertisers). I do enjoy the challenge of writing with a different voice and pace - or at least trying to. It has shown me some of my habits and I'm sure that's just the beginning of the craft lessons I am going to face.
Then there's that website that needs restructuring, and loads of re-writing. A project I welcomed, but between you and I looms as hungry and as demanding as a white elephant. Every step towards or away from it is now fraught with possible political implications - let alone finding the right voice for the thing. A girl needs a hobby on these long nights.
the wind winds around the windows and wails at being locked out tonight.
Words.
I'm doing quite a lot of words these days. Actually I love this, but I am very much "paying my dues", it's not the glamour end of town I can tell you.
Example: 3 different 100 word blurbs on the same thing. None quite right, but no actual content related problem feedback. No worries say I, I'll do them again tomorrow. Also on the list - 300 word blurb on same topic. Last week? 3 different blurbs on a different same topic. Press release, radio ad scripts and a fluff "lifestyle" piece that gets described as "editorial" (? I always thought editorial was written by editors - not advertisers). I do enjoy the challenge of writing with a different voice and pace - or at least trying to. It has shown me some of my habits and I'm sure that's just the beginning of the craft lessons I am going to face.
Then there's that website that needs restructuring, and loads of re-writing. A project I welcomed, but between you and I looms as hungry and as demanding as a white elephant. Every step towards or away from it is now fraught with possible political implications - let alone finding the right voice for the thing. A girl needs a hobby on these long nights.
Monday, June 18, 2007
James007
Over eight months ago, a *friend* signed me up to passionet and insisted that I populate my profile, which I did end up doing under duress. When you don't set up your own username, it's way easy to forget, as I'm sure any reader can sympathise with. Hey, I don't use a login for a week I may be stuffed. Eight months has got to be some kind of record, really, for a free account remaining active.
So tonight I get this message:
>"Hi 'red'
>You have an admirer!
>'007james' has sent you a Cupid Arrow.
>He wants us to let you know that he has read your profile and believes you could have fun >together."
How cruel is life!? Daniel Craig finally decides to get in touch and I've been caught out with a daft username and no fracking idea what my password is.
So tonight I get this message:
>"Hi 'red'
>You have an admirer!
>'007james' has sent you a Cupid Arrow.
>He wants us to let you know that he has read your profile and believes you could have fun >together."
How cruel is life!? Daniel Craig finally decides to get in touch and I've been caught out with a daft username and no fracking idea what my password is.
Honeymoon is Over
Hi,
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Long Cold Nights
It got to -2 degrees C last night.
No wonder I woke up with a jumper wrapped around my head. Once the sun comes out it very quickly gets to a cheerful 20 or so (24 we're expecting today.... again). That's the upside to a drought - no real concern about cloud cover, getting caught without an umbrella, or having to mow the lawn on the weekend.
Yes, we are still in a drought here, despite our cousin int he south getting utterly hammered by the wetter parts of nature last week. We didn't even get a heavy dew.
Next week is going to be Winter Solstice. I've been feeling a bit down because all the people I want to invite to the feast are a long, long way away. Well, it's me who moved, but as the centre of my own universe that re-calibrates everyone else. Sorry kids.
Anyold how, I had just assumed that I wouldn't go ahead and have a feast this year because of that, but in the spirit of "bloom where you're planted" fuck it - I'm gonna do it! Yeah! Mulled wine and roast up some pumpkin here we go!
Table for one madame?
Yes, certainly.
I invite everyone to do what they can to celebrate Winter Solstice on the 21st - the longest night of the year. Or summer, for those of you who insist on being in the northern hemisphere.
No wonder I woke up with a jumper wrapped around my head. Once the sun comes out it very quickly gets to a cheerful 20 or so (24 we're expecting today.... again). That's the upside to a drought - no real concern about cloud cover, getting caught without an umbrella, or having to mow the lawn on the weekend.
Yes, we are still in a drought here, despite our cousin int he south getting utterly hammered by the wetter parts of nature last week. We didn't even get a heavy dew.
Next week is going to be Winter Solstice. I've been feeling a bit down because all the people I want to invite to the feast are a long, long way away. Well, it's me who moved, but as the centre of my own universe that re-calibrates everyone else. Sorry kids.
Anyold how, I had just assumed that I wouldn't go ahead and have a feast this year because of that, but in the spirit of "bloom where you're planted" fuck it - I'm gonna do it! Yeah! Mulled wine and roast up some pumpkin here we go!
Table for one madame?
Yes, certainly.
I invite everyone to do what they can to celebrate Winter Solstice on the 21st - the longest night of the year. Or summer, for those of you who insist on being in the northern hemisphere.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Over the Hump and Far Away
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess. She wasn't a particularly beautiful or clever princess, nor was she enchanted or musical. She was a normal princess, and as such, never expected to get her own story.
But everyone gets a story, even if it turns out to be a dull one.
But everyone gets a story, even if it turns out to be a dull one.
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Monday Flex
Gosh - I honestly thought that the flex day was a thing of the golden past until I came to Qld and got a job at theTrash City Sheltered Workshop. Here I am, Monday, not at work and *getting*paid*. LIFESTYLE!
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Duck!
On the staff Intranet today:
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Small Children - Sometimes Funny!
One of the new people at work has a child who is 6. She sounds super-cute. Apart from the dermatitis and vomiting.
Anyway, she was apparently trying to describe skin-tone colour, and in reaching for the word "flesh" came out with "fladge".
Fladge.
That's genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
Anyway, she was apparently trying to describe skin-tone colour, and in reaching for the word "flesh" came out with "fladge".
Fladge.
That's genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
Farewell Sheltered Workshop
The penultimate day in the Sheltered Workshop went by pretty quickly - what with the packing and the gossiping, and the bludging.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
Quote of the Day
"The use of intellectual rigor for the purpose of increasing fear, sorrow, or doubt is the greatest
cowardice of all."
Karen Pino
cowardice of all."
Karen Pino
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ringing Research
My head was ringing all day, and on the way home I listened just to the noises of the car, the highway, the endless passing vehicles. I got passed by a pig yesterday. Sitting on 100 he accelerated past me and gave me the filthy look from hell. What?! Was my petticoat showing? Had I offended his pale pink sensibilities with my dirty back window? I don't know. But it did give Carte Blanche to all other vehicles on the road and I watched them move off into the distance in their illegal 115klm/hr caravan of speed. I just wanted some time alone.
Ringing in the head is unnerving. Sometimes it's in the ears - that's also not great. In the head is crazy land though. Is that just a kind of headache?
Oh - I just asked Wiki - and it reckons I have Tinnitus. Which it appears is largely subjective. In a few cases, it is objective and the person's ears actually emit sound. Full On! As it doesn't interfere with me falling asleep, it isn't severe. It's just that in Battle Star Galactica, they include the ship's hum as part of the soundtrack - and Firefly (tho not as much) and it's a big part of being immersed in those worlds - escaping into DVDs at night - is the soundscape.
That's hard to grasp - how integral sound is. There's no natural environment without it - except space. Sound can't travel in a vacuum. As a writer, it's something that gets largely left up to the reader - trying to do more than hint at the soundscape can really distract more than add to the mood. Sound is so much a part of everything to us, that it has effectively become invisible until it's not there. That's why those old BBC productions of novels are so hard to bear - too quiet. Only the dialogue. Creepy.
Sound. I crave quiet and my own head brings with it these noises - ringing, clicking and cracking, ticking, blood. So if you see me laying on the bed in the dark - I'm not being lazy (necessarily) I'm researching sound. Same goes for watching BSG or Firefly. That's my excuse for this week, and I'm sticking to it.
Ringing in the head is unnerving. Sometimes it's in the ears - that's also not great. In the head is crazy land though. Is that just a kind of headache?
Oh - I just asked Wiki - and it reckons I have Tinnitus. Which it appears is largely subjective. In a few cases, it is objective and the person's ears actually emit sound. Full On! As it doesn't interfere with me falling asleep, it isn't severe. It's just that in Battle Star Galactica, they include the ship's hum as part of the soundtrack - and Firefly (tho not as much) and it's a big part of being immersed in those worlds - escaping into DVDs at night - is the soundscape.
That's hard to grasp - how integral sound is. There's no natural environment without it - except space. Sound can't travel in a vacuum. As a writer, it's something that gets largely left up to the reader - trying to do more than hint at the soundscape can really distract more than add to the mood. Sound is so much a part of everything to us, that it has effectively become invisible until it's not there. That's why those old BBC productions of novels are so hard to bear - too quiet. Only the dialogue. Creepy.
Sound. I crave quiet and my own head brings with it these noises - ringing, clicking and cracking, ticking, blood. So if you see me laying on the bed in the dark - I'm not being lazy (necessarily) I'm researching sound. Same goes for watching BSG or Firefly. That's my excuse for this week, and I'm sticking to it.
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