Winding the Year Up

I love this time of year, the week just before New Year's Eve is the most chilled-out time. Loads of things and places are shut, one is recovering from the gutting and glutting that can happen at Christmas, and the start of a new year looms. Regrets and troubles from the year can fade most easily now, hope and plans naturally blossom. There's long afternoons and good watermelons or lychees or all those other fruit with the nearly triple digit GI. But there's time enough to worry about not eating yummy foods *next* week, when the diet is meant to start.  Right now is planning for NYE, even if it's a DVD and an early night, you always know where you want to be for the NY.

We're having a BBQ with BYO everything. We provide the fire and the stars. It's not even at the house - but up the back at the pickers' shed that is nicknamed "The Lodge". We may run the genny to power a stereo, but probably it will be a completely acoustic, candle/moonlit affair. That's pretty casual. Our first guests arrived today, and more will come tomorrow. Most will sleep over on the floor of the lodge or in tents. Maybe 2 dozen people are coming, we're not sure.

 

The worst of the transition sickness has passed. I am missing the proximity of friends very badly, and the easy evening options of walking somewhere else just to look at something different. Some nights it can feel like house arrest. Technically, I could drive somewhere. There is a pub on the Highway about 20 minutes away. HHhmmm. Last time mum and Dad went, they had to use the back entrance to the bistro as there was a fistfight happening in the front bar. I might skip it until I have either a Jane or a Zoe on my crew.

 

In other news, I have a new McJob which I start next tuesday (2nd January 2007) in an office being an admin assistant. It's a 6 week contract - the client is known to extend, so possibly it may go for a bit longer. More importantly, I found the local nerd hangout (when I saw local - I really mean just the nearest one. It's a 45min drive) - it's called "Elven Hollow" and they sell Warhammer minatures and Magic cards. It was truely pathetic how glad I was to see them! They're next to the craft store (knitting! beading! quilting!) It was nerdvana.

Anyway Shaun was very helpful and they had nothing for me (warhammer?? I'm not *that* desperate) until I said - "Do you have any other gaming nights?"

He went through Magic, D&D, used to run Vampire, I was really switching off, and then I heard that magic word..."oh yeah, and Serenity."

"WHAT?"

"Serenity, you know, the movie? Well really it was a series called Firef..."

I cut him off (something cruel) "WHEN?"

Thursday nights, 7.30 to 10.30, you know, late night shopping hours."

(right, i thought, while mum picks up the groceries)

but I kept my cynicism to myself and focused on his assurance that it was a good crowd who came along, and newbies are very welcome, and yes they have the game book in stock.

Such Glee!

 

Perhaps things are going to work out afterall.

Fire and Rain

A grey old day, with rain near the coast all day. Big family gathering - my uncle has 8 kids, and 7 of them, and one grandchild came today. It was really wonderful to meet them all again and discover how warm and humorous they are. My sister is driving back from Gladstone tomorrow, and I hope that it's a safe journey for them. Nature is sometimes randomly brutal but I'm sure I worry too much. In the evening, we lit a fire in the stone pit to burn the paper rubbish and some branches that had fallen from teh trees around the house. It was lovely to listen to the flames and the birds settling in the distance as dusk faded into evening. A light rain started. It took over an hour for the rain to quench the fire.

I've been trying to find a particular game board on the internet. We have one copy in the family, and it's very tattered. Mum made a photocopy a few years ago, but that isn't aging very gracefully, and as we're all grown up now, there's a lot of people who have learnt it over the years and like to play it, so we need about 3 or 4 of these boards. Before I sink the hours into photoshop, I decided to Google it. I am astounded when something isn't on there. This isn't, certainly not under any of the names we've always called it by. I have learnt a bit about the categories of card games tonight. We've always called this game Rummy - but it has none of the defining features of Rummy.No melding, no knocking - even Mah Jong is a form of Rummy! No, our game's a cross between Hearts and Poker. After an hour and a haIf getting gmae-nerdy, I now think it's a variation of "Tripoley" (which I had never heard of before).

Excitedly, I called mum in to see the board design I'd found.

"Nope", she said, "ours has a bit that says 7,8,9, and that one says 8, 9, 10".

She wants it *exactly*the*way*it*is*right*now*.

Looks like time for photoshop then.

Casino Royale

Bond. James Bond.

 

Yes, am obsessing.

Want to submerge in it again. Brilliant, well done everybody. More please.

A Day of Plenty

Yesterday was such a horror that there was little hope being held for today, but there's something about the willingness and desire to be together and have a good time that works wonders. I am grateful for the plenty that we had all day - off food, of drink, but more importantly, of goodwill and fun.

Games entice our family, earlier it was simple ones - splash and be splashed in the pool. In the afternoon, some cards. This evening, we're learning snooker, pool and billiards. Waddling around under tha fans with some blues playing and glasses of cold water with slices of lemon.

What a great way to relax.

Blessed be.

Afternoon Naps Rule

We all know what a positive difference they make - why aren't they mandadated??

btw: body count

The creel was gone. I didn't notice straight away, but it was gone. Baby birds are hard to care for. He took worms and water the first night, so we were heartened. My folks didn't tell me he had died ... then I realised they were sheltering me. Not real well as it turned out - his poor little body wasn't far from the house. I'll bury him on the quiet tommorrow when there's no one around to tell me not to get upset over a bird I didn't even know.

Other animals - a snake in the feed shed. I stayed out of it totally. Dad and a shovel saw to the business. The bloodthirsty nieces stood on the back of the ute to have a view. 

Resident frog is alive and well, Riley safe.

Everyone else had meat for dinner.

 

Invisible Fields

There's an amazing album by an Irish guy, it's called Invisible Fields.

I was thinking about how when we look at a place, no matter what perspective we have on it, and how much information we can take in about it visually, it is rarely possible to see the emotion or relationship/s of the place.

This is one of those intriguing mysteries about Aboriginal culture and knowledge. The land tells stories - it speaks and remembers - but not to me. Despite learning about geology and erosion and ecology and all those other names we have for slithers of the whole, and despite a yearning so strong it pulls my chest open, I can't hear the song.

So today, walking and looking at the bruised horizon and hearing the ground breathing in the heat, I couldn't help but wonder what was happening around me that I was oblivious too. I thought about the roos that feed these flats and the stones crumbling, and the eagle that nests on the mountain. None of them can know that there's miners on their way here to gouge out the hard stones and sell them for roads. What invisible fields were being trampled today?

Invisible fields of meaning and of history. I know they're there - my shoes were dusty. 

The Long Paddock

The idea of the Commons isn't dead in the country, it's called "the long paddock". Those couple of metres on either side of the road before the fences start can make all the difference in a tough season like this one. Our neighbour had his herd out there getting some pick for most of the day, he sat there watching them for a few hours, then opened up the fence again and put them back in so they could walk for some water.

 

Aunty

Here I am an Aunty. I am going to make myself an apron (think of it as gender camo). I am child minding (day 2). It's 10am and already I've washed, sorted laundry, cajoled to clean rooms, turned off the tv... and there's hours to go. Moments ago, I found myself sitting at the table looking out at the cars passing on the highway.

They're just about to get into the pool, it's raining, but there's no lightening so it's ok (house rules).

There's bird song outside and a cool breeze. Its harder to see the ranges today because the clouds come right down over them.

 

William James

"I am done with great things and big plans, great institutions and big success. I am for those tiny, invisible loving human forces that work from individual to individual, creeping through the crannies of the world like so many rootlets, or like the capillaries."
~ William James, "The Will to Believe"

Really Great Views

One of the great things about being on the planet - rather than just looking at it from orbit - apart from the whole gravity, ease of breathing thing - is of course, the colours in the views.

Living on a wide alluvial plain in the skirts of an ancient mountain range is a wonderful wonderful place to explore the nuances and shades of green and blue. What a glory it is to allow the eye to stretch out confidently towards a far horizon and linger along the way on hazy blues tinging to purple, or this year, the less common full-green, seen only in glimpses or flashes of protected pockets.

Jetlag

Don't think it's possible to experience jetlag flying Sydney to Brisbane? Well, probably not technically. But I suggest to you that there's not just the stupid one hour time difference, there's the massive cultural difference between that city and this country.

 

Yes. We're talking EARLY RISING. The sun comes up early here, and hour earlier in fact. It's bright, it's relentless, and it cannot be disobeyed. Why? Well, partly because my family doesn't seem to grock the concept of curtains. Secondly, heat. It's hot. I can almost constantly hear Agent Smith talking about the stench of my sweat. Thirdly, there's Things To Do, and doing the crossword with a coffee doesn't seem to be one of them. No. All the Things To Do involve driving (more on the new road monster to come), driving a *long* way, and then, driving back. Possibly there's some phone calls, but there's a tricky ettiquette to country phone calls that my brusque sydney ways don't gel with, so I'm off phone call duty for the time being. I know that there's people (lovely people too) who get up early in sydney. Good for them. You have a tricky start doing that and you might have trouble with a train platform, or over-starch a workshirt. I found myself this morning at 7.20am in charge of a moving vehicle, moving rather briskly (at 110 klms an hour) down a highway towards an endless wall of semitrailers. Twitch badly and, well, suffice it to say, things would be far from pretty. I'm sure sure I'll ever be actually awake for that, but I know that in the last 12 hours my right arm (the driving arm) has received more sun than the entire rest of my body has in the preceeding eleven and a half months. Trapped in the road monster chewing up the tarmac for over 3 hours today has crisped me through to the bone it feels like .... i just got up and looked in the mirror.... I'm just red, in a puffy, uncool way.

I'm so tired. I walked in the door tonight and had a drink of bourbon and ginger ale. ! Chugged it and poured another.  !!

Who is this husk of a woman?

The Eagle Has Landed

Riley and I have made it, finally, to the farm.

Many stories to come, but now, a taste: we arrived to be informed that a kingfisher was recuperating in a creel after being caught by the cat (Carlos, Death on Paws), the dogs had returned from their 3 day sojourn to our hay merchant and that I would be babysitting my nieces from 8am tomorrow morning.

Wish me luck.

 

Big Moves

Today I move interstate and I realise that it's the first time in my adult life I don't own a pillow. Or a kettle. There's some other things too that have been dropped from the household inventory, but those were the two things that struck me as being central to feeling settled.

Ergo, I am unsettled.

 

Today is frantic with loose ends, and the dealine of a flight. Have I made the right decision??? I should take some of my own advice, and remember - "action removes the doubts that theory cannot solve" and give it a whack. Wack or get whacked seems to be a good way to sum up how overwhelming this process feels today.

Christmas Carols in the Local Park

It seems to be *de rigeur* this year for local parks to host christmas carols that have moved a long way from the hymn-like singalongs I remember and now largely re-create the school rock eisteddfod, crossed with daytime tv and with a touch of an evangelistic Australian Idol. Tonight, a bandstand appeared (complete with black velvet drapes) and a gigantic sound system - ensuring that the Kristmas Karaoke Cheer would be spread far and wide. What really got me, was the mirror ball. I could cope with the light rig, with the coffee carts double parked along the street, and even the tacky plastic candles (batteries included!), but the mirror ball broke me.

Maybe it's just me who associates the mirror ball so closely with disco, nightclubs, rough anonymous sex and recreational drug use. To see it spinning there inside the star (supposedly representing the star shining over their lord and saviour's crib) was truly too outre, even for me.

Happy Birthday Ms Jane

Today is Jane Austen's birthday.
Again.
I would like to say that I have done something terribly literate and symbolic to mark the occassion, but quite fittingly, I attended a small private gathering for dinner and conversation, where almost everyone has known each other a little bit too long and there are no secrets, other than the very obvious. Our own little piece of ivory in Summer Hill.

Rough New Prizes

The wonderful horoscope that I get (http://www.freewillastrology.com) is almost always a stimulating gem. My challenge is to make the time to read it. Sometimes, like this week, when I did read it, a phrase from it rolls around my tongue for days. I love how widely he quotes and how passionate he is about living.
This skill, to turn a moment of enquiry into hope, is a gift - a true glory.
~ ~
ARIES (March 21-April 19): "Listen! I will be honest with you. I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes." Walt Whitman wrote that in his poem "Song of the Open Road," and now I'm saying it to you. If you expect the events of 2007 to bring you old smooth prizes, you'll be disappointed. But if you can figure out how to change your attitude in such a way as to actually yearn for rough new prizes, you will be rewarded beyond anything you can imagine. The first hint of how true this is will arrive soon.
~ ~

Tonight I will drift to sleep asking for the mysteries of the dark to bring me rough new prizes to covert.

Gee, That's a good word

It's friday evening, I'm at Petersham train station, heading into Newtown.
The railway guy smiles at me and I ask "Could you tell me please, how long until the next inbound train?"

"Inbound" he says, "Inbound. Gee, that's a good word."

"That would be the traditional word."
"Yeah.I guess. I just haven't heard it for a long time."

This is the *railway* that I'm talking to, and they don't use *inbound*!?

I chuckled the whole 2 minutes I had to wait....

Farewell Drinks

Farewells really bring things into perspective. Maybe that's why we value them ... the opportunity to reflect on  what is valuable about a place, the depth and quality of friendships ... these things are soul full and it can be a wrench to make a break. Then there's the slow creeping excitement that is beginning to permeate things as my responsibilities and worries drop away. All the things that could be, can be. Horizons and hopes. I am starting to be excited by the unknown again, rather than feeling locked down.
It's all in my mind.

It's all in my mind. This lightening of circumstances, this feeling of possibility, it's no wonder that as I have shifted into action about this move, so many other things that have been blocked in my life have started to shift too. I am rediscovering who I might be, and who I don't have to be. I am from a rural place, I have pushed against that and fought it, and wanted to be in this city, and strained here against so much. I created the strain that has sent me into the tailspin, and in this process I feel that I am unmaking it.

A glorious life irony has manifested this week. For years here I have been single, seemingly having a powerful *repulser* field around me. I have so many intelligent, funny, caring friends, yet no one with whom I can share that next level of physical and emotional intimacy, sensuality and pleasure. My forays into online dating have been so very disastrous, I can't even write about it. I have been reconciled to being celibate for so long that it's almost become part of my self-identity. So really, it is of no surprise at all that I have met a *special*someone* just 8 days before I am to leave. This man has the magic pheromone, and backs it up with wit and charm. My decision to leave was heavily influenced by the need to make a connection just like this one. Overnight, I have become Schrodinger's cat.
Did we find each other *because* I'm going, and if I don't go will that perforce result in it falling apart? The ticking hangs over us when we're together, and the pounding of our hearts is eloquent only to the chaos of life.

So drinks last night were great fun, and I only cried once, a little bit. I had drinks, which I haven't allowed myself to do since the gaint bender I went on for my birthday. It's good to live, and to love and sometimes to say goodbye and not know how long for.

Electronic Box

Writing really is the top of the glamour! I feel for this guy...
Bring on the lust, bring on the dreamers.
(Thanks to Maritiming)
---------- Forwarded message ----------
cleaning up my room, i found an email which an algerian "poet" had sent to
my dad a couple years ago, and which my dad had shown me, maybe to
demonstrate the glamour of the publishing world. here are the best bits.

"Dear Sir...
I only wish that it is not clumsy of my part to send these texts thus in your electronic box without no consultation nor no previous agreement of your person. If it can carry prejudice against you, I humbly pray you to want notify me by mail, I will immediately make everything what is necessary in order to apologize...

...If for a lot of writers today, the writing is the top of the glamour, and to become writer, is the object of lust of so many people. You know that for us, if she is not the reason of our murder, she is one of our persecution.
Only god knows, how much we need your help.

...It is a dream for me, one of the biggests, to participate in this beautiful adventure that you direct, and that is you will recognize it gladly the heritage of all men."

Arnold Brings us Together

It used to be that in a situation where I didn't know anyone - say
just like the party I was at last night - my reserve converstional
gambit would be Monty Python. Dropping a Cheese Shop line, or putting
on the voice for "He's not the messiah, he's a very naughty boy" has
revived many a hopeless case, even if it's just long enough to give
everyone a few chuckles, a chance to say their favourite line or move
onto Faulty Towers, and I can move on having completed my role in the
social dance.
I notice that some people prefer The Simpsons, and I agree that this
often works well in general environments, however, I really think it's
just an ice-breaker, not a real arse-saver. This is because The
Simpsons colonises us - it is so self-referential that unles syou've
seen the episode in discussion, or know the characters pretty well,
you won't find it funny. Crash and Burn. You may not believe me, but
there are people who don't watch it, and people who have and
*don't*like*it*.
So what to do?
Increasingly, younger folk have not heard of Monty Python, or if they
have, it's as some kind of entertainment myth. So what to do? One must
develop one's repertoire. Quite unconsciously, in a difficult, stilted
environment with nothing to lose, I tried out some new material last
night, and let me tell you this.
ARNOLD brings us together.

SCHWARZENNEGGER; *that* Arnold.

Everyone has an opinion. Everyone has a favourite film (loved or
loathed). Everyone wants to tell you if they would have voted for him
as Governator, or Presidator. Then, the grace note for the
connoiseurs... Pumping Iron. As ARW says, "there's those who've seen
it, and those who need to see it". It came to me as intuition, I pass
it onto you as wisdom. Next time you're at a suburban BBQ, a singles
night or a moribund work function, remember the secret to drawing
people out of their shells could be as simple as ARNOLD.

"I don't have that much stuff"

Sometimes I say things, and I really really believe them, only to find out later that there must have been some kind of massive denial/delusion field in place at that time, because the statement in question turns out to clearly be SO WRONG, that really, it can truthfully be called a lie.
This week has been one of those times.
"I'm not stressed, I feel fine."
WRONG
"Everything's progressing no problems."
WRONG
"I'm sure the money that guy owes me will turn up any day now. He *did* promise."
WRONG
"Packing won't be too hard, afterall, I don't have that much stuff."
WRONG WRONG WRONG

Who exactly do I think I'm kidding with this shtick? Fracken nobody baby! I am down to single digit days to clear my private museum and archives into boxes and it is going to take a *miracle*. Well, maybe I wasn't utterly delusional, maybe I was uttering what is now fated to become a self-fulfilling prophesy? As each day ticks over and the deadline looms it becomes easier and easier to tell what is dross, and to cull ruthlessly. Perhaps in the next few days as panic erupts, I will just chuck it all out, and so it will be come true - I really won't have that much stuff.
Cool.

In the meantime, I still feel certain that my life can't go on without the 60 floppies I found in a box unopened since I moved in 3 years ago. I probably kept them for a very good reason when I last shifted, and I don't see why I should go double-guessing that now.

Have you got any boxes you can spare?

Sidewalk Economy

I have been releasing furniture and home wares back into the wild these last few days.

It's sad to see some of them go, we've shared quite a while together in captivity, but as we say our thank yous, our last goodbyes, and I shut the gate on them standing there bravely on the sidewalk looking to their future, there's also a release.

New beginnings depend on these little goodbyes and for someone else, there is the excitement of discovery. Just like I had, when I first found them.

 

There's also something very satisfying in materially demonstrating generosity. Mirrors, fans, rugs, chairs, heaters, a fountain, paintings, cupboards, Tvs, microwaves, plates, lamps. All in good working order, most not too scruffy, some things barely used. Question is .... what about the fridge? The first whitegoods I've ever paid money for! Will it too join the great pulsing sidewalk economy, or will I choke at the last minute and pay surly burly men to transport it a thousand kilometers?