Please accept with no obligation, implied or implicit, our best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, nonaddictive, gender neutral celebration of the solstice holiday, practised with the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice with respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, or the choice not to practice religious or secular traditions at all.
We also wish you a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2008, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make our country great (not to imply that Australia is necessarily greater than any other country) and without regard to the race, creed,color, age, physical ability, religious faith or sexual preference of the wishee.
By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms:
This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal.
It is freelytransferable with no alteration to the original greeting.
It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her / himself or others and is void where prohibited by law, and is revocable at the sole discretion of the wisher.
This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings, for a period of one year or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.
Note: No trees were harmed in the sending of this message; however, a significant number of electrons have been electromagnetically relocated.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Suburban Rituals: Mowing
Over the weekend, I attempted to mow my yard.
Note "attempted".
There are many things I struggle with in life, far too many really, and sadly, this list is only being expanded by my half-hearted first foray into home ownership.
Since I moved in two months ago, every weekend has been pierced at various (read: early) hours of the day by the cacophonous mating call of the lesser two-stroke mower. A popular Queensland variant of this creature features an unusual symbiont - a weedy thin human male clad only in short short stubbies and the old style thin things. Hat/sunglasses are optional, as is a half-smoked durrie and blurry blue old tatts down the forearms, but accessories do make the man. Lawns are as close as Suburban Queensland seems to have to a soul. Gardens are nice, but you really just need a lawn. The "inifinity" lawn look is popular too - from the edge of your house to the kerb in one smooth unbroken golf-green.
Well, since it rained, I have been pleased to watch a variety of green things sprout and thrust their way competitively into the sunlight in my yard. Some resulted in yellow swaying flowers, some in tiny blue ones - leaving a very pretty haze of almost lilac blue, some just in giant woody tendril structures keen to make a bid for control of the house. I like the idea of a garden, eventually, but it has been a long way down the energy-consumption-priority list lately and I was happy just for it to be green.
When I lost Riley in the yard and had a minor freakout that the thing that lives in the bowels of the Deathstar had grabbed him, I realised it was time to mow. I borrowed the mower from Ma & Pa, got long pants, boots, hat, leather gloves, ear plugs on, over and in. Fired her up and commenced battle.
What an ordeal.
Painful, noisy, uncontrollable, rough, endless.
When the machine over heated after 20 minutes having done about one twelfth of the entire yard I was in complete concurrence.
This is going to take more planning. If I can only do a twelfth at a time, and the grass continues to grow at the current rate, then my initial computations suggest that I will be mowing this lawn for... roughly the REST OF MY NATURAL BORN LIFE.
So there's got to be some other options. Today I am trying to figure out what second job I can get so I can afford to pay to have the whole thing paved, or turned into the set of Narnia, or adding decking to every side of the house over the damn thing, or dug up and put to useful cultivation...
But I don't really have the energy for that either. It's all a bit much. Time for a cup of tea and a crack at the crossword.
Note "attempted".
There are many things I struggle with in life, far too many really, and sadly, this list is only being expanded by my half-hearted first foray into home ownership.
Since I moved in two months ago, every weekend has been pierced at various (read: early) hours of the day by the cacophonous mating call of the lesser two-stroke mower. A popular Queensland variant of this creature features an unusual symbiont - a weedy thin human male clad only in short short stubbies and the old style thin things. Hat/sunglasses are optional, as is a half-smoked durrie and blurry blue old tatts down the forearms, but accessories do make the man. Lawns are as close as Suburban Queensland seems to have to a soul. Gardens are nice, but you really just need a lawn. The "inifinity" lawn look is popular too - from the edge of your house to the kerb in one smooth unbroken golf-green.
Well, since it rained, I have been pleased to watch a variety of green things sprout and thrust their way competitively into the sunlight in my yard. Some resulted in yellow swaying flowers, some in tiny blue ones - leaving a very pretty haze of almost lilac blue, some just in giant woody tendril structures keen to make a bid for control of the house. I like the idea of a garden, eventually, but it has been a long way down the energy-consumption-priority list lately and I was happy just for it to be green.
When I lost Riley in the yard and had a minor freakout that the thing that lives in the bowels of the Deathstar had grabbed him, I realised it was time to mow. I borrowed the mower from Ma & Pa, got long pants, boots, hat, leather gloves, ear plugs on, over and in. Fired her up and commenced battle.
What an ordeal.
Painful, noisy, uncontrollable, rough, endless.
When the machine over heated after 20 minutes having done about one twelfth of the entire yard I was in complete concurrence.
This is going to take more planning. If I can only do a twelfth at a time, and the grass continues to grow at the current rate, then my initial computations suggest that I will be mowing this lawn for... roughly the REST OF MY NATURAL BORN LIFE.
So there's got to be some other options. Today I am trying to figure out what second job I can get so I can afford to pay to have the whole thing paved, or turned into the set of Narnia, or adding decking to every side of the house over the damn thing, or dug up and put to useful cultivation...
But I don't really have the energy for that either. It's all a bit much. Time for a cup of tea and a crack at the crossword.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Touching Base
Ma often used to say "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all" and it got to be ingrained. That's not a handy habit for a writer. Life's going on all around, but I don't want to seem like a whinger, so the habit is to clam it up. Swallow it down and get on with going through the motions.
Ma does it herself - a phone call will run out of steam, and she'll say "well, there's nothing else to report" as though we're talking just to entertain me. This last month or so, I've been doing that to myself. Not talking just to be in touch and shoot the breeze, no, it's been a bit "nothing to report" as though there has to be something newsworthy going on in order to say - hey - what's good for dinner? or how funny is it that Dumbledore's meant to be gay? Or, man, I am bored! It's tough to heal the breach when you're not talking to yourself. There's no-one to be the go-between.
The thing I like about this time of year is that there's a push to be in touch *anyway*. If you're into the G-d thing one way or the other, or summer solstice, or just the end of the year (please, please, let the next one bring the good stuff!!) you can just send a message saying "I'm thinking about you, and wishing nice things into your life" and I think that's just brilliant.
So this morning I feel like I'm back talking to myself, and we're patching things up. She's given me some chocolate and said sorry, and I've promised not to shut her out and pretend like nothing's happening. Yeah, it's getting better. Our world seemed to shrink a lot this year and that's quite a weird experience. I think we've passed through the worst of the transition now, and starting to find a way to inject a bit more imagination and humour into things without resorting to outright denial and escapism will be good. (Note future tense there - still learning!)
Anyway, from us and Riley to you and yours, for no reason at all, have a great weekend!
Ma does it herself - a phone call will run out of steam, and she'll say "well, there's nothing else to report" as though we're talking just to entertain me. This last month or so, I've been doing that to myself. Not talking just to be in touch and shoot the breeze, no, it's been a bit "nothing to report" as though there has to be something newsworthy going on in order to say - hey - what's good for dinner? or how funny is it that Dumbledore's meant to be gay? Or, man, I am bored! It's tough to heal the breach when you're not talking to yourself. There's no-one to be the go-between.
The thing I like about this time of year is that there's a push to be in touch *anyway*. If you're into the G-d thing one way or the other, or summer solstice, or just the end of the year (please, please, let the next one bring the good stuff!!) you can just send a message saying "I'm thinking about you, and wishing nice things into your life" and I think that's just brilliant.
So this morning I feel like I'm back talking to myself, and we're patching things up. She's given me some chocolate and said sorry, and I've promised not to shut her out and pretend like nothing's happening. Yeah, it's getting better. Our world seemed to shrink a lot this year and that's quite a weird experience. I think we've passed through the worst of the transition now, and starting to find a way to inject a bit more imagination and humour into things without resorting to outright denial and escapism will be good. (Note future tense there - still learning!)
Anyway, from us and Riley to you and yours, for no reason at all, have a great weekend!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Innocent Fantasies
This morning was a lot like yesterday morning. You know how the work week goes. Alarm clock, stiff knees, bored with breakfast, briefly ponder clothes and pull on almost exactly the same thing again.
But I got a gorgeous phone message from Mez, that she's been daydreaming that we were hanging out together today with her new puppy instead of us both going to work in separate cities. As soon as I read it, I joined in, and imagined us baking something for afternoon tea and maybe I could finally teach her that double handed patience card game. I don't know why I still teach people how to play it - I nearly always loose. I guess it's like Scrabble - I like playing it because it's a good excuse to spend time together and keep the hands busy while joking and laughing and story telling can go on.
Such innocent fantasies. How lovely to know that there's still a source of enjoyment and pleasure to be had that doesn't need a copyright permission or is sullied by a badly made movie spin-off console game. It would be better, of course, to wag work today and be teleported to your lounge room and have a laugh, but there you go. In a moment of personal revelation to you, I confide that I have these innocent fantasies much more often than any other kind.
My favourite one lately, from about 2 weeks ago, was a fully-fledged dream. I was in New York promoting the new book, and Neil Gaiman had a night free in his schedule, so we met at a family restaurant he knows and had dinner. It was good to catch up and the food was well made. Afterwards, we said goodbye on the pavement and he walked back to his friends' place and I caught a cab to the hotel. It was good to see him so relaxed.
But I got a gorgeous phone message from Mez, that she's been daydreaming that we were hanging out together today with her new puppy instead of us both going to work in separate cities. As soon as I read it, I joined in, and imagined us baking something for afternoon tea and maybe I could finally teach her that double handed patience card game. I don't know why I still teach people how to play it - I nearly always loose. I guess it's like Scrabble - I like playing it because it's a good excuse to spend time together and keep the hands busy while joking and laughing and story telling can go on.
Such innocent fantasies. How lovely to know that there's still a source of enjoyment and pleasure to be had that doesn't need a copyright permission or is sullied by a badly made movie spin-off console game. It would be better, of course, to wag work today and be teleported to your lounge room and have a laugh, but there you go. In a moment of personal revelation to you, I confide that I have these innocent fantasies much more often than any other kind.
My favourite one lately, from about 2 weeks ago, was a fully-fledged dream. I was in New York promoting the new book, and Neil Gaiman had a night free in his schedule, so we met at a family restaurant he knows and had dinner. It was good to catch up and the food was well made. Afterwards, we said goodbye on the pavement and he walked back to his friends' place and I caught a cab to the hotel. It was good to see him so relaxed.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Formalising an Accent
Name?
Jayke.
J-A-K-E?
nah - J-A-Y-K-E.
pause...
Aussie Bogan parents huh?
Yeah, 'fraid so.
Poor bastard. Next!
Jayke.
J-A-K-E?
nah - J-A-Y-K-E.
pause...
Aussie Bogan parents huh?
Yeah, 'fraid so.
Poor bastard. Next!
Saturday, December 01, 2007
What Happened to November?
...'cause last thing I knew it was October, and things were getting kinda busy.
Gee, you look away for just a minute and the whole political landscape of the country changes!
In more thrilling personal news, I had two (2!) separate house guests during November - Mez and MsJaye both made the trek north and braved the humidity. What fun! Such glee! That makes it four this year - how spoilt and loved I am!
Ipswich remains a lonely exile and this last week has been quiet as well, due to my long-suffering dvd player going on the blink. Ack! No cds, no music other than the radio. Ever hopeful, and well trained by years of using microsoft, I turn it on again each night, patiently waiting for it to recommence operations. After all, this is exactly what happened earlier in the year! I take this time to do a little reading or explore exactly how early I can fall asleep.
I planted out the fig tree and found it very rewarding to dig a hole, and fill it in again. The fig is doing well, which is more than I can say for the mulberry, which has suffered a nasty lopping from the back neighbours. May fortune piss on them! There has been plenty plenty plenty of rain so everything is growing as though to catch up for two years of being thirsty. Ma & Pa's place is an utter biological riot. If you sit still, it feels like you can hear things growing. Kinda creepy. Maybe I've been reading too much scifi.
No, not possible to read too much scifi.
Oh, and the election... well I'm cynically hopeful. Is that possible? Yes. I've had my naive hopes trashed by the ALP in the past, and let's face it - what a disappointing piss-ant backflipper Peter "Once had principles" Garrett has been.
The trouble with elections is that a politician always gets in.
Okay.
Anyway,
December.
December already.
I'm not ready for december already.
Gee, you look away for just a minute and the whole political landscape of the country changes!
In more thrilling personal news, I had two (2!) separate house guests during November - Mez and MsJaye both made the trek north and braved the humidity. What fun! Such glee! That makes it four this year - how spoilt and loved I am!
Ipswich remains a lonely exile and this last week has been quiet as well, due to my long-suffering dvd player going on the blink. Ack! No cds, no music other than the radio. Ever hopeful, and well trained by years of using microsoft, I turn it on again each night, patiently waiting for it to recommence operations. After all, this is exactly what happened earlier in the year! I take this time to do a little reading or explore exactly how early I can fall asleep.
I planted out the fig tree and found it very rewarding to dig a hole, and fill it in again. The fig is doing well, which is more than I can say for the mulberry, which has suffered a nasty lopping from the back neighbours. May fortune piss on them! There has been plenty plenty plenty of rain so everything is growing as though to catch up for two years of being thirsty. Ma & Pa's place is an utter biological riot. If you sit still, it feels like you can hear things growing. Kinda creepy. Maybe I've been reading too much scifi.
No, not possible to read too much scifi.
Oh, and the election... well I'm cynically hopeful. Is that possible? Yes. I've had my naive hopes trashed by the ALP in the past, and let's face it - what a disappointing piss-ant backflipper Peter "Once had principles" Garrett has been.
The trouble with elections is that a politician always gets in.
Okay.
Anyway,
December.
December already.
I'm not ready for december already.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Quote from Flaubert - and he knew a thing or two!!
“Be steady and well-ordered in your life so that you can be fierce and original in your work.”
– Gustave Flaubert
– Gustave Flaubert
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
The Sounds of Clucking
There was a moment over the weekend when I realised that despite me not enjoying Ipswich as a cultural centre, my new place in and of itself hits all of the points I wrote down at the end of Mastery when we were dreaming of what we wanted our future to hold.
This was about four years ago now, and at that time, the idea that I might one day be a worthy citizen for a mortgage was ludicrous, bordering on delusional. To sit and write out "I want a place surrounded by trees so I can hear birds-song, and there's plenty of natural light, and wood and books. There's beautiful things, a place for my desk and it feels like home. There's a gas stove and a bath tub and music fills it. It is a happy home" was an act of faith almost beyond me.
One of the things that I didn't know I should put on that list, was chooks. I like the idea of chooks, but I am no where near uber-gardener capacity in terms of even planning the garden, let alone caring for food producers, but a neighbour very nearby has some and the morning chook noise is incredibly comforting and pleasurable. I stand in my kitchen, making tea with the cheerful red kettle on the singing gas stove, talking away to the dog (the cat already doesn't listen) and over the fence and between the hills hoists comes the sounds of clucking.
I am holding off putting a clock on the wall in a nod to this beautiful period in the morning when there's tea, the paper the dog and the chooks. A brief interlude of life for living without email and beeping calendar appointments. In a good, basic way, it's starting to feel like a home. Like maybe my home.
This was about four years ago now, and at that time, the idea that I might one day be a worthy citizen for a mortgage was ludicrous, bordering on delusional. To sit and write out "I want a place surrounded by trees so I can hear birds-song, and there's plenty of natural light, and wood and books. There's beautiful things, a place for my desk and it feels like home. There's a gas stove and a bath tub and music fills it. It is a happy home" was an act of faith almost beyond me.
One of the things that I didn't know I should put on that list, was chooks. I like the idea of chooks, but I am no where near uber-gardener capacity in terms of even planning the garden, let alone caring for food producers, but a neighbour very nearby has some and the morning chook noise is incredibly comforting and pleasurable. I stand in my kitchen, making tea with the cheerful red kettle on the singing gas stove, talking away to the dog (the cat already doesn't listen) and over the fence and between the hills hoists comes the sounds of clucking.
I am holding off putting a clock on the wall in a nod to this beautiful period in the morning when there's tea, the paper the dog and the chooks. A brief interlude of life for living without email and beeping calendar appointments. In a good, basic way, it's starting to feel like a home. Like maybe my home.
Monday, October 22, 2007
A Year in the Blogosphere
This month marks my first year anniversary as a blogger.
Overall I'd say it's been worth it for me, and that I would continue to do it. What the blog has meant to me and done for me has already had about 3 mayor shifts since I started, so I'm quite curious to see what the next year brings!
Overall I'd say it's been worth it for me, and that I would continue to do it. What the blog has meant to me and done for me has already had about 3 mayor shifts since I started, so I'm quite curious to see what the next year brings!
Ultimate Lifestyle
A funny thing happened on the way to the Colosseum today.
Riles and I were taking the morning constitutional (west of course - he thinks he can walk back to the farm if I loose the leash) and we went past the Ippy Golf Course (the big one, not the pretender at Sandy Gallop). The other day we saw roos there, and we both like the way there's space and nice far horizon.
Anyway, I was just thinking that based on the traffic, first T-off must be 7am. Couples with matching His N Hers golf bags and clubs rolling into the carpark at 6:55am. Then a 4WD swings by with a trailer with a golf buggy on it! I didn't know you could buy them privately. I wondered if that would get better mileage than Audrey for the daily commute - kindof like a neutered beach buggy ride. Anyway, just as I had thought that I had gotten a handle on the Ippy golfing lifestyle, the ULTIMATE LIFESTYLE MOMENT happened. The garage door of the house directly opposite the golf course driveway rolled serenely up into it's catchment and a couple in their own golf buggy cruised the 3 metres of their driveway, sailed across the street, into the golf course and up to the tee!! OMG!
Can you believe it?!
Hi-Larious.
It's thirteen hours later and it still makes me shake my head. In a strange way it's been inspiring. I hope that if I ever get old, I have my priorities that clear!
Riles and I were taking the morning constitutional (west of course - he thinks he can walk back to the farm if I loose the leash) and we went past the Ippy Golf Course (the big one, not the pretender at Sandy Gallop). The other day we saw roos there, and we both like the way there's space and nice far horizon.
Anyway, I was just thinking that based on the traffic, first T-off must be 7am. Couples with matching His N Hers golf bags and clubs rolling into the carpark at 6:55am. Then a 4WD swings by with a trailer with a golf buggy on it! I didn't know you could buy them privately. I wondered if that would get better mileage than Audrey for the daily commute - kindof like a neutered beach buggy ride. Anyway, just as I had thought that I had gotten a handle on the Ippy golfing lifestyle, the ULTIMATE LIFESTYLE MOMENT happened. The garage door of the house directly opposite the golf course driveway rolled serenely up into it's catchment and a couple in their own golf buggy cruised the 3 metres of their driveway, sailed across the street, into the golf course and up to the tee!! OMG!
Can you believe it?!
Hi-Larious.
It's thirteen hours later and it still makes me shake my head. In a strange way it's been inspiring. I hope that if I ever get old, I have my priorities that clear!
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Enforced Sanity Break
The relentless flow of work I have been slowly sinking under the past two weeks has slowly ground to a halt this afternoon. The Sheltered Workshop email servers are down for the count. After 2 hours of neither giving nor receiving, I am forced to look up and notice that the sun still shines in the window, and that at 5.12 pm I am the last person left in the building.
Hi-larious!
Most excellent, I shall be home before half-past, and walking the dog in the twilight. Unpacking again after dinner and some planning about re-arranging everything. It all looked so serene and pure when everything was in nice neat boxes. The house is starting to look a lot more like somewhere that I actually live, with piles of papers and books in corners, against walls and encroaching everywhere except the bathroom.
Chaos emerging from the sterile purity of cubes. Lovely. Very heartening.
In other news, National Write a Novel in a Month is coming up again quickly - remember to register soon! You don't want to miss out on that crucial first day.
Oh yeah and the federal election got called, but that's late November - our novels should be nearly finished by then!!
Hi-larious!
Most excellent, I shall be home before half-past, and walking the dog in the twilight. Unpacking again after dinner and some planning about re-arranging everything. It all looked so serene and pure when everything was in nice neat boxes. The house is starting to look a lot more like somewhere that I actually live, with piles of papers and books in corners, against walls and encroaching everywhere except the bathroom.
Chaos emerging from the sterile purity of cubes. Lovely. Very heartening.
In other news, National Write a Novel in a Month is coming up again quickly - remember to register soon! You don't want to miss out on that crucial first day.
Oh yeah and the federal election got called, but that's late November - our novels should be nearly finished by then!!
Friday, October 12, 2007
Pie Culture
Ipswich embraces much of what I remember being left behind in the 70s. Utes, thongs, chicko rolls, dodgy moustaches, and the pie. Bogan chicks getting off on V8s.
Maybe suburbia has been like this the whole time and I’ve just been ignorant. In that case, ignorance really is its own kind of bliss. Maybe the pie from out of the back of a ute on the side of the road has appeal. Handy – roads are long here. Quicker - Maccas drive through queues are killers. And filling – no one here seems to caught up on nutritional fine print!
The names are right out there too “Big Dad’s Pies” a local franchise going strong. “Joe’s Pies” – calling it how it is.
If you like meat, this is the town for you. Gotta fight for a decent lettuce, but meat from here to kingdom come.
Maybe suburbia has been like this the whole time and I’ve just been ignorant. In that case, ignorance really is its own kind of bliss. Maybe the pie from out of the back of a ute on the side of the road has appeal. Handy – roads are long here. Quicker - Maccas drive through queues are killers. And filling – no one here seems to caught up on nutritional fine print!
The names are right out there too “Big Dad’s Pies” a local franchise going strong. “Joe’s Pies” – calling it how it is.
If you like meat, this is the town for you. Gotta fight for a decent lettuce, but meat from here to kingdom come.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Everybody loves the Elephant
“I’ve shot 630 elephants and 63 men, and I regret the elephants more.”
Attributed to Arthur Jones, 1970. Inventor of the Nautilus machine.
Attributed to Arthur Jones, 1970. Inventor of the Nautilus machine.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Storms Forecast
This month is really getting away from me.
I've got until friday to get our next quarterly brochure proofed and signed off. I don't really write anything, I'm the in-between person. Not quite senior enough to be editing or making any real decisions. The type-it-up and send it back to the designer, person. Not glamorous, no. Not fulfilling, no. Slightly appreciated and well-paid. These things will do. Tomorrow is the 'send it to all the stakeholders for their approval of their bit' day, and we'll see if the preliminary approvals I got from each of them will hold good. Let's hope so.
Dull isn't it.
I didn't mean to start talking shop. There's been awesome thunder and lightening storms. Very little rain in them, and a bit of hail. Some areas have been devastated - others completely untouched. Everywhere is humid and horrible. Peter was grazing his cows in the long paddock this morning, and as we rolled through them, I saw how bony and tired they all are. His cattle, like ours, are near to death from hunger and creeping malnutrition. If we can squeeze two drops of water out of these storms we'll be grateful for it. In that context, print deadlines don't really mean that much.
I unpacked a few boxes tonight. After nearly a year in storage, it's a wonderful surprise to unearth so many beautiful things and wonder where I will put them all. The kitchen cupboards aren't quite finished yet, and somehow I haven't yet stepped over the threshold of putting anything into the built-ins. Maybe it's the lack of a bed. A home isn't really anchored until you're sleeping there. Until then it's a camp kitchen with an indoor loo. Still, my camp kitchen and indoor loo now have an owl or a Buddha in nearly every room. An eclectic pairing I grant you. It will just get better from here. The lovely Mel arrived today with hand-me-down couches. My vision of a lounge room that can comfortably seat 12 has finally been realised - sadly just about a thousand kloms from any of the usual groups of 12 that I can assemble! A success of its own kind nonetheless.
Street Gossip tells me that the horrid Bogans from Hell over in number 13 (no really!) have already gotten their eviction notice, so there won't be too much more excitement soon (read Police and GBH). "Gosh", says I "that's jolly good news". The folks in 15 had set up their lawn chairs at the fence-line for an uninterrupted view of the moving weekend. Glad to be that entertaining whilst doing nothing but carry boxes in and rubbish out.
For no reason other than it has been the main way I spend my leisure hours these past weeks, I tell you that I am still watching the TV series ROME on dvd. It is brilliant. Really. Bloody. Brilliant. This is my third spin through and it's still growing on me. The dvd extras are wonderful and bring out more and more of the value in the series. Don't get me started on Titus Pullo or Mark Antony. I will gibber, and that is never cool.
I've got until friday to get our next quarterly brochure proofed and signed off. I don't really write anything, I'm the in-between person. Not quite senior enough to be editing or making any real decisions. The type-it-up and send it back to the designer, person. Not glamorous, no. Not fulfilling, no. Slightly appreciated and well-paid. These things will do. Tomorrow is the 'send it to all the stakeholders for their approval of their bit' day, and we'll see if the preliminary approvals I got from each of them will hold good. Let's hope so.
Dull isn't it.
I didn't mean to start talking shop. There's been awesome thunder and lightening storms. Very little rain in them, and a bit of hail. Some areas have been devastated - others completely untouched. Everywhere is humid and horrible. Peter was grazing his cows in the long paddock this morning, and as we rolled through them, I saw how bony and tired they all are. His cattle, like ours, are near to death from hunger and creeping malnutrition. If we can squeeze two drops of water out of these storms we'll be grateful for it. In that context, print deadlines don't really mean that much.
I unpacked a few boxes tonight. After nearly a year in storage, it's a wonderful surprise to unearth so many beautiful things and wonder where I will put them all. The kitchen cupboards aren't quite finished yet, and somehow I haven't yet stepped over the threshold of putting anything into the built-ins. Maybe it's the lack of a bed. A home isn't really anchored until you're sleeping there. Until then it's a camp kitchen with an indoor loo. Still, my camp kitchen and indoor loo now have an owl or a Buddha in nearly every room. An eclectic pairing I grant you. It will just get better from here. The lovely Mel arrived today with hand-me-down couches. My vision of a lounge room that can comfortably seat 12 has finally been realised - sadly just about a thousand kloms from any of the usual groups of 12 that I can assemble! A success of its own kind nonetheless.
Street Gossip tells me that the horrid Bogans from Hell over in number 13 (no really!) have already gotten their eviction notice, so there won't be too much more excitement soon (read Police and GBH). "Gosh", says I "that's jolly good news". The folks in 15 had set up their lawn chairs at the fence-line for an uninterrupted view of the moving weekend. Glad to be that entertaining whilst doing nothing but carry boxes in and rubbish out.
For no reason other than it has been the main way I spend my leisure hours these past weeks, I tell you that I am still watching the TV series ROME on dvd. It is brilliant. Really. Bloody. Brilliant. This is my third spin through and it's still growing on me. The dvd extras are wonderful and bring out more and more of the value in the series. Don't get me started on Titus Pullo or Mark Antony. I will gibber, and that is never cool.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
Meet Rumi
The horrid case of cold feet and near panic from yesterday has drained away. Much lighter today, and almost whistling and tra-la-laah-ing except, of course, I don't want to draw attention to myself.
Intending to go and look at a dog as a companion for Riley, I have come away from the pound a rather proud new nearly-owner of a beautiful long-haired Turkish Van cat whom I have named Rumi. He's only a young 'un and is at the vet getting his bits nipped off. I really hope I'm not allergic to him - I've never kept a long haired pet. I don't have a photo of him, but he looks almost *exactly* like this cat, but thinner and younger.
Between Riley and the Fig Tree (blooming and blooming) I am feeling very nurturing and content.
Also, some of my not-very-creative (I thought they were dull) ideas are getting through all the hoops at work and some of them (they did spawn like toads) may make it to print!
Praise be! A good day finally!! I shall be taking a long weekend to clean, paint and nest in the new place. I am planning next weekend as well, but as I have so little stuff, it may all be over this weekend. We shall see.
The Ram may have touched the wall but we are secure, and have faith in our resilience.
However, a lot of rain would really really help as well.
Intending to go and look at a dog as a companion for Riley, I have come away from the pound a rather proud new nearly-owner of a beautiful long-haired Turkish Van cat whom I have named Rumi. He's only a young 'un and is at the vet getting his bits nipped off. I really hope I'm not allergic to him - I've never kept a long haired pet. I don't have a photo of him, but he looks almost *exactly* like this cat, but thinner and younger.
Between Riley and the Fig Tree (blooming and blooming) I am feeling very nurturing and content.
Also, some of my not-very-creative (I thought they were dull) ideas are getting through all the hoops at work and some of them (they did spawn like toads) may make it to print!
Praise be! A good day finally!! I shall be taking a long weekend to clean, paint and nest in the new place. I am planning next weekend as well, but as I have so little stuff, it may all be over this weekend. We shall see.
The Ram may have touched the wall but we are secure, and have faith in our resilience.
However, a lot of rain would really really help as well.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
The Ram Has Touched the Wall
Commitment is an odd creature, don't you find?
I have not had a close relationship with it so far during my life, so it has been an interesting experience lately as my wishes bring me closer and closer to what have always looked like shoals of certain destruction. I have sought out every other possible path to gaining what I want and they each ended in a cul-de-sac. One, untried and undesirable option left, to commit to living as an employee (not a contractor) to commit to the purchase of large items in the promise that their later (greater) value will support my dotage. Down this path I go, with much trepidation and an exit strategy tucked under one wing.
I have been escaping my own life by immersing myself in the life of Rome. I was bewitched by this, and have started again from the beginning of the series. There's so much to say about it, it will have to be another discussion. What I really wanted to turn over, was this one point, very early on, where Mark Anthony says, with a huge passion, "the ram has touched the wall!" and they're off! What the?!
The whole Roman way of life was a commitment in terms that are quite hard to reconcile with our modern/post-christian morals. This particular comment was compelling and I could not make out what it was about, but from the context it clearly had great importance.
So I looked it up, and here's a good explanation from someone else who's name I have lost:
"It was a strict policy of battle. When a city was to be under siege, they had a chance to give up, to submit to Rome’s rule. However, once the battering ram touched the outer wall of the city’s defenses, the commanding Roman officer was not allowed to accept surrender, was unable to give quarter or show mercy.”
“The policy was designed to put pressure on the enemy. If they weren’t absolutely sure they could withstand the siege, they better give up, because once the ram had touched the wall, that was it.”
That was it - indeed!
So here I am, feeling at once both under siege, and at the same time be-sieging my own previous life with these changes and desires for a future. Confused? Oh yes. If I wasn't cautious of mixing times and empires, I'd now segue into a Cassandra theme, but enough altogether.
Let it just be thus, as a koan to my world this week.
The ram has touched the wall.
I have not had a close relationship with it so far during my life, so it has been an interesting experience lately as my wishes bring me closer and closer to what have always looked like shoals of certain destruction. I have sought out every other possible path to gaining what I want and they each ended in a cul-de-sac. One, untried and undesirable option left, to commit to living as an employee (not a contractor) to commit to the purchase of large items in the promise that their later (greater) value will support my dotage. Down this path I go, with much trepidation and an exit strategy tucked under one wing.
I have been escaping my own life by immersing myself in the life of Rome. I was bewitched by this, and have started again from the beginning of the series. There's so much to say about it, it will have to be another discussion. What I really wanted to turn over, was this one point, very early on, where Mark Anthony says, with a huge passion, "the ram has touched the wall!" and they're off! What the?!
The whole Roman way of life was a commitment in terms that are quite hard to reconcile with our modern/post-christian morals. This particular comment was compelling and I could not make out what it was about, but from the context it clearly had great importance.
So I looked it up, and here's a good explanation from someone else who's name I have lost:
"It was a strict policy of battle. When a city was to be under siege, they had a chance to give up, to submit to Rome’s rule. However, once the battering ram touched the outer wall of the city’s defenses, the commanding Roman officer was not allowed to accept surrender, was unable to give quarter or show mercy.”
“The policy was designed to put pressure on the enemy. If they weren’t absolutely sure they could withstand the siege, they better give up, because once the ram had touched the wall, that was it.”
That was it - indeed!
So here I am, feeling at once both under siege, and at the same time be-sieging my own previous life with these changes and desires for a future. Confused? Oh yes. If I wasn't cautious of mixing times and empires, I'd now segue into a Cassandra theme, but enough altogether.
Let it just be thus, as a koan to my world this week.
The ram has touched the wall.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Dullsville, thy name is Ipswich
OK. This is it. My last night as a free-wheeling, happy-go-lucky bohemian type with no debts, no responsibilities and nowhere to live.
By this time tomorrow I shall burdened and shackled to an odious mortgage. Haunted by the towers of formal papers and hounded in my dreams by the marching column of compound interest I shall wither away into an ever-narrowing dullness. My only conversation will be of painting, furniture or food coupons.
Or, it could be really good. Don't really know.
One thing is certain, Riley doesn't want to leave the farm. Cruel of me to even ask him to give up his ute, his spot in the sun, and especially the wallabies - dead or alive, he loves them all.
"Riley," I say to him "we all have to make sacrifices in this Brave New World." and he wags his tail and runs to my father.
C'est la vie, eh?!
By this time tomorrow I shall burdened and shackled to an odious mortgage. Haunted by the towers of formal papers and hounded in my dreams by the marching column of compound interest I shall wither away into an ever-narrowing dullness. My only conversation will be of painting, furniture or food coupons.
Or, it could be really good. Don't really know.
One thing is certain, Riley doesn't want to leave the farm. Cruel of me to even ask him to give up his ute, his spot in the sun, and especially the wallabies - dead or alive, he loves them all.
"Riley," I say to him "we all have to make sacrifices in this Brave New World." and he wags his tail and runs to my father.
C'est la vie, eh?!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Radio Silence
I haven't been anywhere, done anything or met anyone.
No. Just holding my breath and waiting for the sun and moon to dance around and for the dice to move me 'round the board. I stood so still a bitch pissed on me. Maybe next time not quite so still as that.
I was very nearly bored today. Imagine that! Horrific state of affairs. Tisk tisk.
No. Just holding my breath and waiting for the sun and moon to dance around and for the dice to move me 'round the board. I stood so still a bitch pissed on me. Maybe next time not quite so still as that.
I was very nearly bored today. Imagine that! Horrific state of affairs. Tisk tisk.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
5 Things I Love about Australia
1. We invented plastic money so you could go swimming and still be able to get a feed after. Also, means that people who keep cash in their jeans pockets aren't suddenly skint every time they do a load of washing. Genius.
2. It's an island. The rest of the world's gotta be happy about that.
3. We make our own rules. Eg. Long socks with shorts are formal enough for the office! (see also "dress thongs") Another eg: No one is really expected to work too hard between, say, the week before christmas and the week after new years - oh, and a coupla days either side of Australia Day. "C'mon mate - it's summer!" (This is not always a great thing: see also Penal settlement and the rum trade, Tampa and Howard in general).
4. Native Fauna and Flora are bizarre by any standards and almost entirely unique. Cool. Endangered, but cool.
5. Generally peaceful. Bit of a flare-up in the 1780s for a while, and recently arms have been taken against citizens when a visiting foreigner was here, oh, and the the whole "we don't trust people arriving by boat" thing, but generally, there's very little bombing, gunfire, and mortal danger from explosives, extremists or warring factions.
There you go - you didn't think I'd be able to get to five, but I did!!
Go yew liddle bewdie!!
2. It's an island. The rest of the world's gotta be happy about that.
3. We make our own rules. Eg. Long socks with shorts are formal enough for the office! (see also "dress thongs") Another eg: No one is really expected to work too hard between, say, the week before christmas and the week after new years - oh, and a coupla days either side of Australia Day. "C'mon mate - it's summer!" (This is not always a great thing: see also Penal settlement and the rum trade, Tampa and Howard in general).
4. Native Fauna and Flora are bizarre by any standards and almost entirely unique. Cool. Endangered, but cool.
5. Generally peaceful. Bit of a flare-up in the 1780s for a while, and recently arms have been taken against citizens when a visiting foreigner was here, oh, and the the whole "we don't trust people arriving by boat" thing, but generally, there's very little bombing, gunfire, and mortal danger from explosives, extremists or warring factions.
There you go - you didn't think I'd be able to get to five, but I did!!
Go yew liddle bewdie!!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Rashi
Rashi looked again at her watch, which of course still wasn't on her wrist where it always always was. The sweat was pooling at the back of her knees and under her breasts. She could smell her skin going sour and her mouth was sticky with thirst. How long would she be held like this?! She looked again at her watch, which of course still wasn't there. With a powerful force of will, she didn't swear out loud, or contort her face, or even clench a fist. That was close. She'd nearly blown it. It brought her back to what was at stake. Very consciously she bought her awareness back to right here, right now. It was important that she not make any moves or sounds that whatever was recording from the other side of that mirror could pick up. She didn’t know what kind of equipment they had, but she knew from the trail transcripts she’d read that it was there, and was often a deciding factor in final decisions. If it ever got to trial. She’d worked so very hard to get here, she wasn’t going to screw it all up right at the last hurdle.
Taking a deep, slow breath, Rashi went to the cot. Gently and evenly, she let the breath out, then paused before taking another. She’d trained for this, she knew she’d get through if she stuck to the plan. This was not the time for fretting over details that were already in place or trying to push things along. The authorities would take their own time, that’s how authorities work. It’s not like this was some third-world cell with a putrid bucket in the corner. Actually it was almost exactly as it had been in the brochure except the blanket on the cot was grey, not navy blue. She was surprised to realise that it was cotton, that open waffle weave style, for some reason her mind had categorised it as a warm blanket. Why there was a blanket at all in this heat was the real mystery. Rashi thought it was a mystery she would ponder as the authorities took whatever time they needed to process her paperwork. After all, she thought, that was pretty reasonable. These things take time. She just wished that they’d left her with her guide book. She trusted that her belongings, her watch, luggage and passport would be returned to her in due course. Meanwhile, she decided, she was free to recuperate from the journey. It had been a very long trip.
Taking a deep, slow breath, Rashi relaxed on her cot in her silent, dim cell and deliberately went to sleep. Australia was worth the hassle to visit. She’d had to decide that a long time ago when she’d applied to her own country for clearance and diplomatic support. A week or two in Visitor Status Processing is a small sacrifice to make. Too late for doubts now.
Taking a deep, slow breath, Rashi went to the cot. Gently and evenly, she let the breath out, then paused before taking another. She’d trained for this, she knew she’d get through if she stuck to the plan. This was not the time for fretting over details that were already in place or trying to push things along. The authorities would take their own time, that’s how authorities work. It’s not like this was some third-world cell with a putrid bucket in the corner. Actually it was almost exactly as it had been in the brochure except the blanket on the cot was grey, not navy blue. She was surprised to realise that it was cotton, that open waffle weave style, for some reason her mind had categorised it as a warm blanket. Why there was a blanket at all in this heat was the real mystery. Rashi thought it was a mystery she would ponder as the authorities took whatever time they needed to process her paperwork. After all, she thought, that was pretty reasonable. These things take time. She just wished that they’d left her with her guide book. She trusted that her belongings, her watch, luggage and passport would be returned to her in due course. Meanwhile, she decided, she was free to recuperate from the journey. It had been a very long trip.
Taking a deep, slow breath, Rashi relaxed on her cot in her silent, dim cell and deliberately went to sleep. Australia was worth the hassle to visit. She’d had to decide that a long time ago when she’d applied to her own country for clearance and diplomatic support. A week or two in Visitor Status Processing is a small sacrifice to make. Too late for doubts now.
Monday, September 17, 2007
Conferences
A conference last friday and saturday over-loaded me. The ideas were good - nothing too wild - it was the crushing reality of the limitations of the workplace. I normally enjoy learning something (anything) just for the sake of it, and sitting there making notes on a saturday morning about museum visitor profiles I just realised that there are things I would rather be doing. Really. Rather. Be. Doing.
Particularly when I know that no matter how simple, practical or obvious any idea I take away from this conference is, the answer will be - "well you do it, but not at the expense of anything else". which is code for "we can't run this place as it is, just focus on the right-here, right-now". I had a cynicism and wage-slave overload.
The conference itself was great, and I will write a bit more about it later in the week, when I can perk-up from this little low.
Also had a conference with the house-buying team. Sit-rep is good on all fronts. Structure = sound. Finances = approved. Working Bee Flex days = accrued. ETO (estimated time of ownership) is 3 october.
Finally, conference with the new medical guy. Not quite so great. Had a "please explain" for taking myself off the meds. He seemed pretty good about it at first, but then ordered bloodwork to "check" a few things - I got the message. But no, he wasn't done. The man has pre-printed pads and he's not afraid to use them. He replenished my supply, and then added a script for *suppositories*. You heard me. Double punch! ONE - bloodwork! Bam! TWO - pills for your arse! KA-BAM! This guy's not kidding around. Needless to say, I haven't rushed off to the chemist just yet.
It's been a week alright, and it's only Monday.
As a treat, I got myself a dvd "Throne of Blood" by Kurosawa. No pun intended.
Particularly when I know that no matter how simple, practical or obvious any idea I take away from this conference is, the answer will be - "well you do it, but not at the expense of anything else". which is code for "we can't run this place as it is, just focus on the right-here, right-now". I had a cynicism and wage-slave overload.
The conference itself was great, and I will write a bit more about it later in the week, when I can perk-up from this little low.
Also had a conference with the house-buying team. Sit-rep is good on all fronts. Structure = sound. Finances = approved. Working Bee Flex days = accrued. ETO (estimated time of ownership) is 3 october.
Finally, conference with the new medical guy. Not quite so great. Had a "please explain" for taking myself off the meds. He seemed pretty good about it at first, but then ordered bloodwork to "check" a few things - I got the message. But no, he wasn't done. The man has pre-printed pads and he's not afraid to use them. He replenished my supply, and then added a script for *suppositories*. You heard me. Double punch! ONE - bloodwork! Bam! TWO - pills for your arse! KA-BAM! This guy's not kidding around. Needless to say, I haven't rushed off to the chemist just yet.
It's been a week alright, and it's only Monday.
As a treat, I got myself a dvd "Throne of Blood" by Kurosawa. No pun intended.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Money Changes People
The etymology of "stock exchange" came up today and that got me talking about the intriguing development of the idea of "currency" alongside the barter/unsecured coinage system that people used to get by with in local economies. Which linked over to the the quantum-self-help-guru world where money is referred to as "energy", and driving in the car this morning the thought that "money changes people" is often a derisive or negative thing to say.
You know what I mean, there's occasionally an interview with some new sensation where they assert "Money hasn't changed me" or won't or one of those variations.
I wonder why they want that money then if not to change? If not to enable a broader scope of activity, a change of venue or an expansion of influence, where is the motivation for the activity that results in the cash they apparently don't desire.
For some reason Russell Crowe came to mind. Now I don't think that he's ever been one to say anything this flaccid, but he's the kinda guy who *could* and it would make at least some sense. Liked rugby league, buys a league team.
But what about those people who say they would win lotto and keep working?! What's with that? Why buy the lotto ticket then? This sounds slightly white-shoe brigade, but it's not meant to be. Actually I'm coming at it more from a "wouldn't the world be better if more of us were more emotionally and creatively fulfilled - and wouldn't moving towards that state be the first thing you'd act on if you were given a wad of cash?" point of view.
I'm not saying that I expect everyone would open an orphanage or buy Sumatran rainforest to protect orangutans - but *some* people would. Other people might take up watercolours, or scuba diving, or leave the town they were born in and see some other parts of the country. Usually with a bit more of a smile, and a bit more patience at the red lights along the way. Most people harbour a secret desire and acting towards that, even partially, constitutes a change.
Ergo, I guess, when people say they "wouldn't change" they mean only in a *bad* way.
How frustrating then, that this useful word which is conceptually neutral seems to be loosing valency. For a positive meaning to the word "change" which words can we fall back on in English - "improvement"? Euch. How 80s.
So thinking back to the money as energy or within the context of currency... the entire structure we have for exchange, for transaction - it's all predicated on the supposition that all is in motion, that there is no true static point anyway.
The only static point in the entire universe then is in human minds where we think we can attain some perfect state and hold it. Despite how much money we may someday win in lotto.
You know what I mean, there's occasionally an interview with some new sensation where they assert "Money hasn't changed me" or won't or one of those variations.
I wonder why they want that money then if not to change? If not to enable a broader scope of activity, a change of venue or an expansion of influence, where is the motivation for the activity that results in the cash they apparently don't desire.
For some reason Russell Crowe came to mind. Now I don't think that he's ever been one to say anything this flaccid, but he's the kinda guy who *could* and it would make at least some sense. Liked rugby league, buys a league team.
But what about those people who say they would win lotto and keep working?! What's with that? Why buy the lotto ticket then? This sounds slightly white-shoe brigade, but it's not meant to be. Actually I'm coming at it more from a "wouldn't the world be better if more of us were more emotionally and creatively fulfilled - and wouldn't moving towards that state be the first thing you'd act on if you were given a wad of cash?" point of view.
I'm not saying that I expect everyone would open an orphanage or buy Sumatran rainforest to protect orangutans - but *some* people would. Other people might take up watercolours, or scuba diving, or leave the town they were born in and see some other parts of the country. Usually with a bit more of a smile, and a bit more patience at the red lights along the way. Most people harbour a secret desire and acting towards that, even partially, constitutes a change.
Ergo, I guess, when people say they "wouldn't change" they mean only in a *bad* way.
How frustrating then, that this useful word which is conceptually neutral seems to be loosing valency. For a positive meaning to the word "change" which words can we fall back on in English - "improvement"? Euch. How 80s.
So thinking back to the money as energy or within the context of currency... the entire structure we have for exchange, for transaction - it's all predicated on the supposition that all is in motion, that there is no true static point anyway.
The only static point in the entire universe then is in human minds where we think we can attain some perfect state and hold it. Despite how much money we may someday win in lotto.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Gibson: Spook Country. Reviewed.
There's something very personal that happens when a beloved author puts out a book that just doesn't deliver. Betrayal. Hurt - right in the gut, a stabbing feeling halfway between your wings on the back.
Perhaps its due in part to the semiotic relationship of reader-engagement where we put in so much more than just the hours it takes to read, and sometimes it is the irrational and unfair hope that the author will continue to provide exactly the escape, antidote, passion or buzz that we've mainlined so many times before. I'm not working up into a rant here, just setting the scene for what is really hard to say.
William Gibson's new novel "Spook Country" is kinda dull and it's derivative.
It's not a great book, it's far from his best work.
It rehashes some good themes from his seminal early series, and patisches from his earlier pastiches (such as the nuanced "Pattern Recognition"). Okay - he's earned the right to coast along a little, and you can see it in the recent quote "I think reality these days is so much like a science-fiction novel. Now all I have to do is just import all that is around me into my novels."
Those are the words of a man who has lived to see his visions fulfilled. Visions that were scoffed by the mainstream, and are now that mainstreams own language. I sometimes wonder how George Orwell would have responded to our Noughties culture where political spin is what we call re-writing history, and we've had nearly a decade of entertainment from a show called Big Brother. Gibson *was* the voice of cyberpunk - go back and look at the Mirrorshades anthology (only in geek friends' libraries) and see what in the 80s we thought would be a wild future, and now Gibson is caught in a singularity.
"Spook Country" ought to have been bold, unsuspected, exciting. Instead it is Gibson-by-the-numbers, and misunderstood and badly packaged by his publishers. Why did Penguin ever take him onto their list? They have done nothing but misunderstand him and his audience since the atrocious handling of "Pattern Recognition" (was it two or three years between the hardcover selling out and the first paperback editions?!), and now it seems that they feel he'll sell better if his fans can't recognise him, and if crime readers mistake this for a thriller. There is no suspense in this book. None. There's barely even any crime (as most people would recognise it).
Gibson-by-the-numbers still has its moments of pleasure. His voice and cadence are unmistakeable, desirable and oft striven for. Here's a taste:
"Bigend stopped the car. A ball-capped guard in black uniform shorts and matching short-sleeved shirt regarded them from behind mirrored glasses. A laden, multicompartmented black holster was strapped to his right thigh.
She felt a sudden intense desire to get out of the Maybach, and acted on it.
The door opened like some disturbing hybrid of bank vault and Armani evening purse, perfectly balanced bombproof solidity meeting sheer cosmetic slickness. The gritty concrete floor, blotched with crumbs of gypsum, felt comforting in contrast. The guard gestured with a remote. She heard segmented steel start to rattle down behind them."
Classic. But if I just wanted classic Gibson, I'd re-read Neuromancer.
People change, the world moves on. As an ardent fan, I was looking forward to the new visions from Gibson. Frankly, I could do with some help dealing with this world, and in the past I've found many good tips and much solace in the worlds of SF. That this book didn't deliver owes some to my own idealistic hero-worship, but mostly to an author coasting on his (considerable) momentum.
Perhaps its due in part to the semiotic relationship of reader-engagement where we put in so much more than just the hours it takes to read, and sometimes it is the irrational and unfair hope that the author will continue to provide exactly the escape, antidote, passion or buzz that we've mainlined so many times before. I'm not working up into a rant here, just setting the scene for what is really hard to say.
William Gibson's new novel "Spook Country" is kinda dull and it's derivative.
It's not a great book, it's far from his best work.
It rehashes some good themes from his seminal early series, and patisches from his earlier pastiches (such as the nuanced "Pattern Recognition"). Okay - he's earned the right to coast along a little, and you can see it in the recent quote "I think reality these days is so much like a science-fiction novel. Now all I have to do is just import all that is around me into my novels."
Those are the words of a man who has lived to see his visions fulfilled. Visions that were scoffed by the mainstream, and are now that mainstreams own language. I sometimes wonder how George Orwell would have responded to our Noughties culture where political spin is what we call re-writing history, and we've had nearly a decade of entertainment from a show called Big Brother. Gibson *was* the voice of cyberpunk - go back and look at the Mirrorshades anthology (only in geek friends' libraries) and see what in the 80s we thought would be a wild future, and now Gibson is caught in a singularity.
"Spook Country" ought to have been bold, unsuspected, exciting. Instead it is Gibson-by-the-numbers, and misunderstood and badly packaged by his publishers. Why did Penguin ever take him onto their list? They have done nothing but misunderstand him and his audience since the atrocious handling of "Pattern Recognition" (was it two or three years between the hardcover selling out and the first paperback editions?!), and now it seems that they feel he'll sell better if his fans can't recognise him, and if crime readers mistake this for a thriller. There is no suspense in this book. None. There's barely even any crime (as most people would recognise it).
Gibson-by-the-numbers still has its moments of pleasure. His voice and cadence are unmistakeable, desirable and oft striven for. Here's a taste:
"Bigend stopped the car. A ball-capped guard in black uniform shorts and matching short-sleeved shirt regarded them from behind mirrored glasses. A laden, multicompartmented black holster was strapped to his right thigh.
She felt a sudden intense desire to get out of the Maybach, and acted on it.
The door opened like some disturbing hybrid of bank vault and Armani evening purse, perfectly balanced bombproof solidity meeting sheer cosmetic slickness. The gritty concrete floor, blotched with crumbs of gypsum, felt comforting in contrast. The guard gestured with a remote. She heard segmented steel start to rattle down behind them."
Classic. But if I just wanted classic Gibson, I'd re-read Neuromancer.
People change, the world moves on. As an ardent fan, I was looking forward to the new visions from Gibson. Frankly, I could do with some help dealing with this world, and in the past I've found many good tips and much solace in the worlds of SF. That this book didn't deliver owes some to my own idealistic hero-worship, but mostly to an author coasting on his (considerable) momentum.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Septuagenarian, Octogenarian, nine-a-genarian?
Grandad, recently returned from his tour of the USA, is turning 89 next week or so. Gloating on his good health last weekend, he was talking about what life might hold for him in his next decade.
He couldn't quite think of the word for being in one's nineties. He is a crossword fiend, so this was a shock. I sometimes consider myself ok with words, so I had a think about it, and realised that this is one of those words that I presume I know, but actually do not, have never, and worse, can't figure out.
Sure, we all know the others - but nine?!
No-one knew, and Grandad moved on from trying to think of the word to deal with more meaningful activities like planning his social calendar and working on his golf game. But it bugged me. This is a gap in the numbers! With an aging population, we *need* this word - it's going to have to do a lot more work for us! Someone needs to know! What if the only person in the world who knows how to refer to the ages between 90 and 99 in a single word dies of avian flu? I was driven to do something.
I went to the Oxford. Nine, ninety both there. Got distracted, read the whole column either side. No clues. Went to Septuagenarian, hoping they'd run against type and give the whole listing. Nope. Tried Octogenarian. Also there, also no clues.
Tap tap tap went my fingers on the cover of the book. Hhmmm.
'Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be stumped by this.' I thought. That clever bastard would just know, sure, but when Watson didn't know, he would prompt him, what would he say? What would he say......
AHA!
I went back and checked again - YES! Sept and Oct are both GREEK ROOTS, whereas nine is something else, something that doesn't work when you try and be clever with it. Ergo, my answer will be solved, if only I can think of the Greek word/root for nine!!!
Shame I don't know any Greek then, isn't it.
Still, isn't this exciting?!
Actually at this point, feeling like I'd done the hard yards by solving the process to the problem (if not the problem itself) I turned to those glorious tools (Google and Wikipedia) and within 0.12 seconds had over 2 millions listings for "greek nine", number one being "ennea-".
Of COURSE! the Enneagram. I should have remembered that!!!!!!!
What a dullard.
I read on - how fascinating the number nine is! Did you know that 9 It is the first composite lucky number? That 9 is the second non-unitary square prime (3^2)? That it has a unique aliquot sum σ(n) 4 which is itself a square prime? (all from wiki of course, I don't even understand what this says, and there's *lots* more where this came from!) .
Wow huh. I just like it because it's so round, and it's three lots of three, and three is the coolest number (apart from zero, which, it turns out, is considered an *even* number - what you can't learn off Wiki huh?) .
I digress.
There's still no actual answer to the question, except that now I could be 90% confident to guess it. Well, a guess isn't good enough when it's saturday night and I've already watched "Point Break" .... try enneagarian in the Oxford - not there. God how I hate having to work with this tiny thing! (the "Concise"- really!?) I put it into google "Do you mean Enneagram?" no, i do not. Damn! Perhaps I'm on the wrong track?! How long could this take? I do the old Enneagarian + dictionary search, and Google has given up on me! "Do you mean hungarian + Dictionary?"
ARGH!!
I'm going to have to wait until Monday when I can get to a proper dictionary!!!!!!
Don't you worry - I'm going to track this down!!
Wait, one last idea. Let me check something over at Wiki again....
Yes, Wiki listed a latin prefix as well - nono.
Could it be that we use Greek all the time, except this once?!
Oh yes, there it is : Nonogenerian.
Oxford, google, both agree, nonogenerian, not enneawhatever. I was using my brain and it was wrong.
*sigh*
On the upside, at least I'll have something to write in Grandad's birthday card next year!
He couldn't quite think of the word for being in one's nineties. He is a crossword fiend, so this was a shock. I sometimes consider myself ok with words, so I had a think about it, and realised that this is one of those words that I presume I know, but actually do not, have never, and worse, can't figure out.
Sure, we all know the others - but nine?!
No-one knew, and Grandad moved on from trying to think of the word to deal with more meaningful activities like planning his social calendar and working on his golf game. But it bugged me. This is a gap in the numbers! With an aging population, we *need* this word - it's going to have to do a lot more work for us! Someone needs to know! What if the only person in the world who knows how to refer to the ages between 90 and 99 in a single word dies of avian flu? I was driven to do something.
I went to the Oxford. Nine, ninety both there. Got distracted, read the whole column either side. No clues. Went to Septuagenarian, hoping they'd run against type and give the whole listing. Nope. Tried Octogenarian. Also there, also no clues.
Tap tap tap went my fingers on the cover of the book. Hhmmm.
'Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be stumped by this.' I thought. That clever bastard would just know, sure, but when Watson didn't know, he would prompt him, what would he say? What would he say......
AHA!
I went back and checked again - YES! Sept and Oct are both GREEK ROOTS, whereas nine is something else, something that doesn't work when you try and be clever with it. Ergo, my answer will be solved, if only I can think of the Greek word/root for nine!!!
Shame I don't know any Greek then, isn't it.
Still, isn't this exciting?!
Actually at this point, feeling like I'd done the hard yards by solving the process to the problem (if not the problem itself) I turned to those glorious tools (Google and Wikipedia) and within 0.12 seconds had over 2 millions listings for "greek nine", number one being "ennea-".
Of COURSE! the Enneagram. I should have remembered that!!!!!!!
What a dullard.
I read on - how fascinating the number nine is! Did you know that 9 It is the first composite lucky number? That 9 is the second non-unitary square prime (3^2)? That it has a unique aliquot sum σ(n) 4 which is itself a square prime? (all from wiki of course, I don't even understand what this says, and there's *lots* more where this came from!) .
Wow huh. I just like it because it's so round, and it's three lots of three, and three is the coolest number (apart from zero, which, it turns out, is considered an *even* number - what you can't learn off Wiki huh?) .
I digress.
There's still no actual answer to the question, except that now I could be 90% confident to guess it. Well, a guess isn't good enough when it's saturday night and I've already watched "Point Break" .... try enneagarian in the Oxford - not there. God how I hate having to work with this tiny thing! (the "Concise"- really!?) I put it into google "Do you mean Enneagram?" no, i do not. Damn! Perhaps I'm on the wrong track?! How long could this take? I do the old Enneagarian + dictionary search, and Google has given up on me! "Do you mean hungarian + Dictionary?"
ARGH!!
I'm going to have to wait until Monday when I can get to a proper dictionary!!!!!!
Don't you worry - I'm going to track this down!!
Wait, one last idea. Let me check something over at Wiki again....
Yes, Wiki listed a latin prefix as well - nono.
Could it be that we use Greek all the time, except this once?!
Oh yes, there it is : Nonogenerian.
Oxford, google, both agree, nonogenerian, not enneawhatever. I was using my brain and it was wrong.
*sigh*
On the upside, at least I'll have something to write in Grandad's birthday card next year!
Neil Gaiman: Gold Star Blogger
The man hisself has been to China recently, plenty of good posts about strange food etc, but this, this is pure gold:
http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/labels/giraffes.html
Still very excited about Stardust coming! Very very excited....
http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/labels/giraffes.html
Still very excited about Stardust coming! Very very excited....
Spring Feelings
Some weeks are chockas aren't they. This week included going to see a touring production of "Educating Rita" starring someone from "McLeod's Daughters" and a guy from "All Saints" (ie. two pretty dodgy Australian TV series) and as suspected, it was a bit dodgy.
The woman sounded like Bubbles from Ab Fab, and couldn't even sustain that. Why bother?! Surely there's enough self-awareness to realise that you're doing a shit job and look around for some solutions - would've made obvious sense to do an Ocker rendition, and have her be a bogan. The light and sound production was pretty sloppy, but most people just seemed pleased to have a play to go to locally. We'll forgive a lot to miss out on the two-hour each way drive. I did enjoy myself anyway, a free ticket from a neighbour who works in the centre, and a chance to see who goes to what gets billed locally as "Live Theatre" ...isn't that a tautology? Like so many country things - it was packed with about 4 generations and came with the slight smell of mothballs. Anyway, the beer was cold, and the story was good, so I went with it and had a good time.
As part of the Boonah Arts Festival, there'll also be a "street spectacular" tonight - I'm looking forward to it. The whole region will probably be there - half in it, the other half cheering. I've invited my new nearly-friend who is a volunteer at the gallery, but as he lives in Ipswich, I'm not sure if he'll come. Once again, I expect to be carried by the sheer naive enthusiasm and open-hearted joy of the event rather than any special artistic or cultural vision. Hi-larious. Yes, I am mocking, but not with any venom. As part of my "bloom where you're planted" program I have come to appreciate many more things about this region - particularly as compared to Trash City. As our eccentricities here are accepted and valued, we do tend to live freely, and that is valuable to us day-to-day but also, it turns out, as a curiosity worthy of a day-trip from the city folk.
Ma & Pa's farm to us is a flawed home full of jobs half-done and living things that need tending so they can be eaten later. It is delineated by fences that have hugely important meanings in the eyes of the human laws but which are invisible and insignificant to the lay and the pulse of the land itself. The flows of it, the push of the sun and the pull of the water. This is the broader place that connects us into this tiny box of farm and why it is so very hard to leave in the tough times of drought or fire, because after a little while it owns you in a more permanent way than any contract ever could. When someone visits anywhere like here, anywhere a few hours away from concrete landscapes, the proximity to this power is revitalising. It gets called scenery, or quiet, but we know that it is more. An old more that we don't have a name for now.
Despite still being lonely here a lot of the time, I am actually saddened by the prospect now of going. This connection has been worth growing. Having had a few more days to think about things (since Ticking the Boxes) I can say to my sister "Yes, I am happy."
No matter what happens in the next phase of the plan, or the plan after (!) or what life throws in my path anyway, this has been a good thing to do. It's all ok.
The woman sounded like Bubbles from Ab Fab, and couldn't even sustain that. Why bother?! Surely there's enough self-awareness to realise that you're doing a shit job and look around for some solutions - would've made obvious sense to do an Ocker rendition, and have her be a bogan. The light and sound production was pretty sloppy, but most people just seemed pleased to have a play to go to locally. We'll forgive a lot to miss out on the two-hour each way drive. I did enjoy myself anyway, a free ticket from a neighbour who works in the centre, and a chance to see who goes to what gets billed locally as "Live Theatre" ...isn't that a tautology? Like so many country things - it was packed with about 4 generations and came with the slight smell of mothballs. Anyway, the beer was cold, and the story was good, so I went with it and had a good time.
As part of the Boonah Arts Festival, there'll also be a "street spectacular" tonight - I'm looking forward to it. The whole region will probably be there - half in it, the other half cheering. I've invited my new nearly-friend who is a volunteer at the gallery, but as he lives in Ipswich, I'm not sure if he'll come. Once again, I expect to be carried by the sheer naive enthusiasm and open-hearted joy of the event rather than any special artistic or cultural vision. Hi-larious. Yes, I am mocking, but not with any venom. As part of my "bloom where you're planted" program I have come to appreciate many more things about this region - particularly as compared to Trash City. As our eccentricities here are accepted and valued, we do tend to live freely, and that is valuable to us day-to-day but also, it turns out, as a curiosity worthy of a day-trip from the city folk.
Ma & Pa's farm to us is a flawed home full of jobs half-done and living things that need tending so they can be eaten later. It is delineated by fences that have hugely important meanings in the eyes of the human laws but which are invisible and insignificant to the lay and the pulse of the land itself. The flows of it, the push of the sun and the pull of the water. This is the broader place that connects us into this tiny box of farm and why it is so very hard to leave in the tough times of drought or fire, because after a little while it owns you in a more permanent way than any contract ever could. When someone visits anywhere like here, anywhere a few hours away from concrete landscapes, the proximity to this power is revitalising. It gets called scenery, or quiet, but we know that it is more. An old more that we don't have a name for now.
Despite still being lonely here a lot of the time, I am actually saddened by the prospect now of going. This connection has been worth growing. Having had a few more days to think about things (since Ticking the Boxes) I can say to my sister "Yes, I am happy."
No matter what happens in the next phase of the plan, or the plan after (!) or what life throws in my path anyway, this has been a good thing to do. It's all ok.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Dukkah Thief
A terse moment last night when I got home to the farm.
Mum had made up a batch of Dukkah over the weekend and bottled all she could, leaving the remainder (perhaps just under half) on the bench covered in cling wrap. She sells it at the markets, it's a brilliant accompaniment to the olives/ olive oil/ fresh bread nexus. Very tasty, I recommend it highly.
But it was no longer there.
It had been eaten.
Fingers were pointed, pretty pointedly, at Riley.
"Smell his breath!" Mother insisted. I did, and it smelt doggy. Not Egyptian-doggy, just plain meaty-doggy.
"Are you sure it wasn't Bonnie?" I asked, as after all - she's the main bin diver and cat food filcher and as a border collie she's got the mass to handle a half kilo of retail-grade dukkah, whereas that's a significant proportion of Riley's body weight, and he's been sick from eating a tablespoon of Chicken fat just two nights ago (illicitly supplied by mother I may add, who initially denied the charge!).
"She would have left more mess." was Mother's lame defence.
"Very circumstantial. Flimsy even." I retorted and the cold wall went up.
This morning, going to let the farm dogs out, I found a stash of items from yesterday’s garbage bin – classic Bonnie MO.
Circumstanial evidence indeed, but pointedly pointing away from my darling and innocent Riley.
Mum had made up a batch of Dukkah over the weekend and bottled all she could, leaving the remainder (perhaps just under half) on the bench covered in cling wrap. She sells it at the markets, it's a brilliant accompaniment to the olives/ olive oil/ fresh bread nexus. Very tasty, I recommend it highly.
But it was no longer there.
It had been eaten.
Fingers were pointed, pretty pointedly, at Riley.
"Smell his breath!" Mother insisted. I did, and it smelt doggy. Not Egyptian-doggy, just plain meaty-doggy.
"Are you sure it wasn't Bonnie?" I asked, as after all - she's the main bin diver and cat food filcher and as a border collie she's got the mass to handle a half kilo of retail-grade dukkah, whereas that's a significant proportion of Riley's body weight, and he's been sick from eating a tablespoon of Chicken fat just two nights ago (illicitly supplied by mother I may add, who initially denied the charge!).
"She would have left more mess." was Mother's lame defence.
"Very circumstantial. Flimsy even." I retorted and the cold wall went up.
This morning, going to let the farm dogs out, I found a stash of items from yesterday’s garbage bin – classic Bonnie MO.
Circumstanial evidence indeed, but pointedly pointing away from my darling and innocent Riley.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Ticking all the boxes
Valuing creativity doesn't mean devaluing structure.
It's taken a lifetime to come to this realisation. Structure is my friend. Sure, we're not always on speaking terms, but there's a great deal to be said for having a plan and sticking to it. I mean a plan in the big sense - not some rigid schedule. A set of guidelines that will eventually get me to where I want to go. Making the decision about where that would be was a lot harder than getting underway. In fact, I realise how we can get underway almost by accident. I tend to distract myself easily enough, let alone with the odd invitation here or there.
It's hard to listen to any business person (or other type of person who's been corporatised) without hearing "the bottom line." It used to be hard-hitting and now it's almost meaningless jargon from people who are trying to distract you from the real question you asked.
So when my sis asked me last night "Are you happy?" I honestly couldn't answer.
I am dizzy, busy and relentlessly sticking to my plan. A part of me remembers thinking for a long time about the plan and deciding it would be the best thing to do in the long run, and would require adult-like sacrifices in the short term. Events seem to be proceeding in line with the roughed-out direction, so that is good.
When all I could say to her was "I'm ticking all the boxes." We both knew that this was enough for now.
It's taken a lifetime to come to this realisation. Structure is my friend. Sure, we're not always on speaking terms, but there's a great deal to be said for having a plan and sticking to it. I mean a plan in the big sense - not some rigid schedule. A set of guidelines that will eventually get me to where I want to go. Making the decision about where that would be was a lot harder than getting underway. In fact, I realise how we can get underway almost by accident. I tend to distract myself easily enough, let alone with the odd invitation here or there.
It's hard to listen to any business person (or other type of person who's been corporatised) without hearing "the bottom line." It used to be hard-hitting and now it's almost meaningless jargon from people who are trying to distract you from the real question you asked.
So when my sis asked me last night "Are you happy?" I honestly couldn't answer.
I am dizzy, busy and relentlessly sticking to my plan. A part of me remembers thinking for a long time about the plan and deciding it would be the best thing to do in the long run, and would require adult-like sacrifices in the short term. Events seem to be proceeding in line with the roughed-out direction, so that is good.
When all I could say to her was "I'm ticking all the boxes." We both knew that this was enough for now.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Going Share-sies with a bank
The urge to have a backyard is very strong. Many of my daydreams have been about playing in the dirt with the radio on in the background. Mabye watching the dog sniff at things and interact with the world. Some have been about painting walls with strange colours or murals without regards for bond money.
Well, all these dreams have faded into the background as I learn about contracts and percentage points and fine-print and signing things. The business of buying a box of one's own is unpleasant, has many steps and costs large amounts of money. So large in fact that a bank or other institution will play a large role in the process for the next 30 years.
As someone who was never convinced I would make it to thirty, I never expected to have a mortgage of my own. Every year since that time has been something of a surprise, and as they seem to be ticking around pretty regularly now, I thought I'd hedge my bets and see if I could get a box of my own.
So on saturday I offered a lady some money for a house, and she said yes. It still feels pretty hypothetical, given that I don't have that money, but I now have three weeks to find it. I like the idea that I'll find it - possibly under a cauliflower in the vege patch I guess.
Well, all these dreams have faded into the background as I learn about contracts and percentage points and fine-print and signing things. The business of buying a box of one's own is unpleasant, has many steps and costs large amounts of money. So large in fact that a bank or other institution will play a large role in the process for the next 30 years.
As someone who was never convinced I would make it to thirty, I never expected to have a mortgage of my own. Every year since that time has been something of a surprise, and as they seem to be ticking around pretty regularly now, I thought I'd hedge my bets and see if I could get a box of my own.
So on saturday I offered a lady some money for a house, and she said yes. It still feels pretty hypothetical, given that I don't have that money, but I now have three weeks to find it. I like the idea that I'll find it - possibly under a cauliflower in the vege patch I guess.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Bucolic Idyll
Glorious sweetness of a day at home.
Woke without the alarm at 6 and heard the birds rustling each other into action within the soft, sweet silence that a large, mostly calm space makes.
Re awoke at 8 to the full chorus, callback and conversations of the crows, magpies, and all the other smaller ones that I can't quite see. Wandered out and made a coffee, went to check on the tomato seedlings - they're strong and perfect to plant out today. The big wattle tree by the front porch is in full bloom and heavy with labouring bees. I love that tree. So shady in summer and nondescript most of the time until this late August type time - when ka-pow - out with the enormous golden sprays of tiny fluffy pollen balls.
Took the coffee over to watch mum walk back from the top of the oats, where she'd been checking on a new calf. We're up to nine now, and they're a little smaller from the tough season, but perfectly formed and cheerful like baby animals with their mothers always are. The few good days of rain last week has come over our land like a kiss. We've blushed green.
My Grandad has arrived to stay with us for the weekend. He's just come back from about 4 weeks in America and he's bubbling with stories and amazement. He's been a long time without going everywhere, and he's sprightly and enlivened with all that he has seen, and the chance to spend such time with another branch of our family.
Riley is beside himself that we're all at home today and has been running like a running-fool, pausing only to wrestle Zac to the ground. Zac is grown into a large cat now, not quite fat, but very heavy and soft. To see this blob of ginger and white on his back passively getting choked by the tiny frantic terrier is hilarious... even when with his little tongue out he *really* is choking. I think he may be a little bit Michael Hutchence about the choking thing, and I am curious to see how far he would let it go before he pushed even a little bit back at Riley. The curious me would let it run it's course .... but the idea of facing ma and pa with an expired cat and a confused dog always tips me back into action.
"Enough Riley!"
Tonight is the launch of the Boonah Arts Festival. Ma and I will go, and I'm quite looking forward to it. Boonah embraces anyone who has a crack at something arty. It makes for what arts people call a "varied" or "mixed" show (ie they look down on it) but as a member of this community, I love the inclusiveness and fun of it. Should be a hoot tonight. May have to wear a scarf darling ....
Woke without the alarm at 6 and heard the birds rustling each other into action within the soft, sweet silence that a large, mostly calm space makes.
Re awoke at 8 to the full chorus, callback and conversations of the crows, magpies, and all the other smaller ones that I can't quite see. Wandered out and made a coffee, went to check on the tomato seedlings - they're strong and perfect to plant out today. The big wattle tree by the front porch is in full bloom and heavy with labouring bees. I love that tree. So shady in summer and nondescript most of the time until this late August type time - when ka-pow - out with the enormous golden sprays of tiny fluffy pollen balls.
Took the coffee over to watch mum walk back from the top of the oats, where she'd been checking on a new calf. We're up to nine now, and they're a little smaller from the tough season, but perfectly formed and cheerful like baby animals with their mothers always are. The few good days of rain last week has come over our land like a kiss. We've blushed green.
My Grandad has arrived to stay with us for the weekend. He's just come back from about 4 weeks in America and he's bubbling with stories and amazement. He's been a long time without going everywhere, and he's sprightly and enlivened with all that he has seen, and the chance to spend such time with another branch of our family.
Riley is beside himself that we're all at home today and has been running like a running-fool, pausing only to wrestle Zac to the ground. Zac is grown into a large cat now, not quite fat, but very heavy and soft. To see this blob of ginger and white on his back passively getting choked by the tiny frantic terrier is hilarious... even when with his little tongue out he *really* is choking. I think he may be a little bit Michael Hutchence about the choking thing, and I am curious to see how far he would let it go before he pushed even a little bit back at Riley. The curious me would let it run it's course .... but the idea of facing ma and pa with an expired cat and a confused dog always tips me back into action.
"Enough Riley!"
Tonight is the launch of the Boonah Arts Festival. Ma and I will go, and I'm quite looking forward to it. Boonah embraces anyone who has a crack at something arty. It makes for what arts people call a "varied" or "mixed" show (ie they look down on it) but as a member of this community, I love the inclusiveness and fun of it. Should be a hoot tonight. May have to wear a scarf darling ....
Friday, August 31, 2007
Another great quote
'I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.'
Jorge Luis Borges
(Thanks for sending this over LN!)
Jorge Luis Borges
(Thanks for sending this over LN!)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Word of the Day: Sesquipedalian
Sesquipedalian
1. A person or thing a foot and a half high or long.
2.a. Of a word - polysyllabic
b. Characterised by long words; tending to be lengthy or ponderous in speech
(thank you The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 4th Ed, Vol 2, pg 2791)
1. A person or thing a foot and a half high or long.
2.a. Of a word - polysyllabic
b. Characterised by long words; tending to be lengthy or ponderous in speech
(thank you The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 4th Ed, Vol 2, pg 2791)
Work Intranet Weirdness #2
Once again the intranet E-bay has got a corker:
For Sale - Into Creepy Crawlies? SNAKES For Sale
3 Adult Coastal Carpet Pythons, Easy breeders. also 2 adult male spotted pythons. Various fully equiped large cages also available, with lights all wired up. Licence required. Contact Nicole via email. Thanks.
Price: $Various
For Sale - Into Creepy Crawlies? SNAKES For Sale
3 Adult Coastal Carpet Pythons, Easy breeders. also 2 adult male spotted pythons. Various fully equiped large cages also available, with lights all wired up. Licence required. Contact Nicole via email. Thanks.
Price: $Various
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Cory Doctorow Speaks Sense at Melb Writers' Fest
In a session called "Free and Easy" Cory Doctorow did his best to share his knowledge and insights to a motivated and interested audience through the obstacles of Charles Firth's ignorance and bull-headedness. There was also an annoying woman MC who added no value to the proceedings (sorry whoever you are, but you should have just given the man the stage and stayed out of the way) particularly given that the topic was about copyright, reproduction and making a living in the digital age.
I'll own up right away - I haven't read anything about him or by him. I didn't know he had his own wiki page (which he does) I just knew that I'd shelved his books a *lot* at kino and here he would be talking about making a living but giving away copies of his books for free on-line. It's true - they're available under the creative commons right there at the bottom of his wiki entry.
The Melb WritFest (MWF now, ok) have this weird thing going where they charge you to go to nearly any session!? What the!? When you've flown 2000kloms to get to it, and then had a closer look at the fine print, this feels like a rude shock. I know $20 isn't much in the context of the flight and travel costs and everything, but it seemed weird on principle. Having said that, if I could have paid more to just get an hour of download & QA from Cory (sans the interruptions) it would have re-wired my brain.
Enough gum flapping.
(there's a lot of paraphrasing here - my notes are shot, don't blame him for any crappy expression.)
He opened with a short take on the information economy - what is it really - in little ways it's people finding a plumber on google, or using a satnav to find the airport, or Facebook to choose a restaurant. These are the meaningful, personal ways that the information economy has started to become a reality. Reality is always messier than the theory expects it will be. Bits of stuff have value and cost cash but bytes of stuff flow around protection. Pirated movies anybody? The economy for a while (about 70 years) has been predicated on controlling the copies and being able to sell them, and as we all know, this system is flailing about right now. Cory drew an interesting line to the resurgence of the vaudeville model - where the "charismatic" performer takes the stage and access to the event is controlled and a dollar is charged at the door. Those same people who about 70 years ago got told to stop touring and produce records - which would do all the touring for them. (I hope he got a decent cut of the $20 I paid to see him then!).
Creative types still need to put bread in the toaster and kibble in the bowl - so what is there to sustain them if all the copies are free?
How does the rent get paid?!
Well, for Cory Doctorow, the rent gets paid for by (leaving other speculations aside) people buying copies of his books. People buying copies of the same books that are available for free on the web. Free books with no encryption, no time-outs, no dodgy sample chapter set up. Whole texts. Buying, with actual cash.
Here's how this works in his own words:
"Most people who download the book don't end up buying it, but they wouldn’t have bought it in any event, so I haven’t lost any sales, I’ve just won an audience. A tiny minority of downloaders treat the free e-book as a substitute for the printed book--those are the lost sales. But a much larger minority treat the e-book as an enticement to buy the printed book. They're gained sales." (Read the whole article).
Anyone who's worked in sales or a bookstore or ever just been honest about their own buying habits is going to get that line of reasoning right away. Charles Firth didn't. (That's the last time I'll mention him. No need for my pain to be your pain).
But we're in SF world. A *special* world.
Cory again (from the same Forbes article)
"How did I talk Tor Books into letting me do this? It's not as if Tor is a spunky dotcom upstart. They're the largest science fiction publisher in the world, and they're a division of the German publishing giant Holtzbrinck. They're not patchouli-scented info-hippies who believe that information wants to be free. Rather, they’re canny assessors of the world of science fiction, perhaps the most social of all literary genres. Science fiction is driven by organized fandom, volunteers who put on hundreds of literary conventions in every corner of the globe, every weekend of the year. These intrepid promoters treat books as markers of identity and as cultural artifacts of great import."
Yeah! But what about books that aren't SF? What do you with your future-dude glasses see for the daggy, non SF writers and this on-line world. I love SF, but my attempts to write it have always been lame. I can write other stuff though - how can I pay the rent? Google ads? Is that my best option?
The long tail takes a long time - I'd like to earn some money in my lifetime. Sure, the value (be that entertainment, education, whatever) of the work is the longer-term purpose, but the day to day of spending my hours toiling in a job for someone else is the issue.
I think that was going to be his next point though ... that the long tail does take a long time (the great enemy is obscurity) and that free distribution escalates finding your audience. It also begins to create a market for you the writer. Yeah you. What is writing after all but one of the ways that you put your thoughts into an order and have them tussle each other? You'll have to deal with the idea that your writing might lead you to blogging, or talking or teaching or being interviewed by Forbes Magazine.
The session kinda deteriorated towards the end, but apart from the content that I have tried to capture pretty faithfully above, the best thing I got out of this was inspiration. I sat afterwards and watched probably 20 people line up and buy one (or more) of his books and get them signed. Ka-Ching! But we all know how lush it is to hold a book, and feel the grain of the paper, and when you've stood in the line and had it signed - well - it's special. Even for the person who eventually buys it on Ebay.
We buy the books we love - that's the new model. I expect the luxe-model Hardcover to emerge soon and be a hit - but only for titles that have proved themselves in the tail. Remember how gob-smacked we were when DaVinci Code came out - after 4 years in the large format illustrated hardcover - and had another spike?! Well that's a taste of things to come.
Books that earn their chops will find a place on the shelf rather than the harddrive.
It was inspiring because he was totally credible. This wasn't some suit-monkey sprouting shit from an online MBA. Authentic reporting from the frontline. I'm grateful to him for kicking me over into thinking about my own life and my own creativity within the context of post-scarcity economics.
In short then, a really great session. Plus, I was so wired from it that I got talking to someone else from the session (Melbourne is so friendly, in Sydney she would have called security) and learnt a whole lot more again. Hopefully as I return into this mundane orbit, loads of it will stay with me and the dream will keep breathing.
I'll own up right away - I haven't read anything about him or by him. I didn't know he had his own wiki page (which he does) I just knew that I'd shelved his books a *lot* at kino and here he would be talking about making a living but giving away copies of his books for free on-line. It's true - they're available under the creative commons right there at the bottom of his wiki entry.
The Melb WritFest (MWF now, ok) have this weird thing going where they charge you to go to nearly any session!? What the!? When you've flown 2000kloms to get to it, and then had a closer look at the fine print, this feels like a rude shock. I know $20 isn't much in the context of the flight and travel costs and everything, but it seemed weird on principle. Having said that, if I could have paid more to just get an hour of download & QA from Cory (sans the interruptions) it would have re-wired my brain.
Enough gum flapping.
(there's a lot of paraphrasing here - my notes are shot, don't blame him for any crappy expression.)
He opened with a short take on the information economy - what is it really - in little ways it's people finding a plumber on google, or using a satnav to find the airport, or Facebook to choose a restaurant. These are the meaningful, personal ways that the information economy has started to become a reality. Reality is always messier than the theory expects it will be. Bits of stuff have value and cost cash but bytes of stuff flow around protection. Pirated movies anybody? The economy for a while (about 70 years) has been predicated on controlling the copies and being able to sell them, and as we all know, this system is flailing about right now. Cory drew an interesting line to the resurgence of the vaudeville model - where the "charismatic" performer takes the stage and access to the event is controlled and a dollar is charged at the door. Those same people who about 70 years ago got told to stop touring and produce records - which would do all the touring for them. (I hope he got a decent cut of the $20 I paid to see him then!).
Creative types still need to put bread in the toaster and kibble in the bowl - so what is there to sustain them if all the copies are free?
How does the rent get paid?!
Well, for Cory Doctorow, the rent gets paid for by (leaving other speculations aside) people buying copies of his books. People buying copies of the same books that are available for free on the web. Free books with no encryption, no time-outs, no dodgy sample chapter set up. Whole texts. Buying, with actual cash.
Here's how this works in his own words:
"Most people who download the book don't end up buying it, but they wouldn’t have bought it in any event, so I haven’t lost any sales, I’ve just won an audience. A tiny minority of downloaders treat the free e-book as a substitute for the printed book--those are the lost sales. But a much larger minority treat the e-book as an enticement to buy the printed book. They're gained sales." (Read the whole article).
Anyone who's worked in sales or a bookstore or ever just been honest about their own buying habits is going to get that line of reasoning right away. Charles Firth didn't. (That's the last time I'll mention him. No need for my pain to be your pain).
But we're in SF world. A *special* world.
Cory again (from the same Forbes article)
"How did I talk Tor Books into letting me do this? It's not as if Tor is a spunky dotcom upstart. They're the largest science fiction publisher in the world, and they're a division of the German publishing giant Holtzbrinck. They're not patchouli-scented info-hippies who believe that information wants to be free. Rather, they’re canny assessors of the world of science fiction, perhaps the most social of all literary genres. Science fiction is driven by organized fandom, volunteers who put on hundreds of literary conventions in every corner of the globe, every weekend of the year. These intrepid promoters treat books as markers of identity and as cultural artifacts of great import."
Yeah! But what about books that aren't SF? What do you with your future-dude glasses see for the daggy, non SF writers and this on-line world. I love SF, but my attempts to write it have always been lame. I can write other stuff though - how can I pay the rent? Google ads? Is that my best option?
The long tail takes a long time - I'd like to earn some money in my lifetime. Sure, the value (be that entertainment, education, whatever) of the work is the longer-term purpose, but the day to day of spending my hours toiling in a job for someone else is the issue.
I think that was going to be his next point though ... that the long tail does take a long time (the great enemy is obscurity) and that free distribution escalates finding your audience. It also begins to create a market for you the writer. Yeah you. What is writing after all but one of the ways that you put your thoughts into an order and have them tussle each other? You'll have to deal with the idea that your writing might lead you to blogging, or talking or teaching or being interviewed by Forbes Magazine.
The session kinda deteriorated towards the end, but apart from the content that I have tried to capture pretty faithfully above, the best thing I got out of this was inspiration. I sat afterwards and watched probably 20 people line up and buy one (or more) of his books and get them signed. Ka-Ching! But we all know how lush it is to hold a book, and feel the grain of the paper, and when you've stood in the line and had it signed - well - it's special. Even for the person who eventually buys it on Ebay.
We buy the books we love - that's the new model. I expect the luxe-model Hardcover to emerge soon and be a hit - but only for titles that have proved themselves in the tail. Remember how gob-smacked we were when DaVinci Code came out - after 4 years in the large format illustrated hardcover - and had another spike?! Well that's a taste of things to come.
Books that earn their chops will find a place on the shelf rather than the harddrive.
It was inspiring because he was totally credible. This wasn't some suit-monkey sprouting shit from an online MBA. Authentic reporting from the frontline. I'm grateful to him for kicking me over into thinking about my own life and my own creativity within the context of post-scarcity economics.
In short then, a really great session. Plus, I was so wired from it that I got talking to someone else from the session (Melbourne is so friendly, in Sydney she would have called security) and learnt a whole lot more again. Hopefully as I return into this mundane orbit, loads of it will stay with me and the dream will keep breathing.
Facebook Ate my Life
Two hours I've just spent on there.
Gibson help me.
I can't believe that it is that distracting - the toys! The pirates! the endless movie reviews.
I learnt something important tonight. I can't help but have an opinion on far too many things, and this is not good for me.
Do you know there are people who are using this tool for thinking !? For building better communities and sharing knowledge. Damn them! How do they do that!?
Let me try and find my train of thought again ....
Gibson help me.
I can't believe that it is that distracting - the toys! The pirates! the endless movie reviews.
I learnt something important tonight. I can't help but have an opinion on far too many things, and this is not good for me.
Do you know there are people who are using this tool for thinking !? For building better communities and sharing knowledge. Damn them! How do they do that!?
Let me try and find my train of thought again ....
Monday, August 27, 2007
All good things must come to an end
There's been Dave Eggers and Cory Doctorow at the writers' fest, art art art, and Oh the cake!!
What a brilliant trip. It's not quite over yet, flying out this arvo, but I certainly haven't finished rolling around everything I've seen and done. Isn' that the brilliant thing about travel - turns you upside down and shakes everything about.
What a brilliant trip. It's not quite over yet, flying out this arvo, but I certainly haven't finished rolling around everything I've seen and done. Isn' that the brilliant thing about travel - turns you upside down and shakes everything about.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Glorious Melbournia!
oh arduous journey!
Up at o-dark-hundred and manymany hours later ere I am... winding down the the lovely frabulous Allan, snuggled up with puppies, to the soundtrack of snoring form the couch (not me this time - I may have snored on the plane...) after a GIANT dinner in a great Vietnamese place in Fitzroy (which, sadly, out of habit, we inadvertently referred to as Thai on three separate occasions... oops... very understanding people, Vietnamese restaurant staff).
Anyway, I digress.
By several thousand kilometers this time, and what a world of good it's doing me. I feel younger, more interesting, stimulated, hopeful (but no thinner - how many bottles of wine got "knocked over" tonight?). Ah.
On the walk to the dinner-food-place we passed art stores, and bookstores, and a hat store, and a vegans place and and and! It was just great.
I am so grateful (as always) to Allan and Craig's generosity in letting me make their palatial home a bit messy in one corner - (Lee - listening?) so many great friends who have all invested very wisely in very expensive and well upholstered couches. Life is good.
Well tomorrow, I hope to catch up with a long-lost uni buddy who I have gotten back in touch with through FACEBOOK. Yes, after all that stupid ranting, it has borne tasty fruit immediately. I welcome our new robot overlords.
Over dinner we had a big chat about the possible Orwellian horrors of Google morphing all it knows about our dirty secret searches and face book accounts and dodgy second email setups (et al) and what kind of a future will it be when Bush and Howard merge it all into one database! Frankly, i just kinda feel sorry for the poor Level 2 temp who'll have to wade through the morass of shit i pump out on a nearly daily basis (The Eagle Has Landed) and try and figure out of I'm a terrorist (for the Chaser), a try-hard wannabe, or just a garden variety nutbar. Yay. Bring it on.
Okeydokey, enjoy the rain, culture, movies, bed - where ever you are, whatever you're doing - I'm sending you mellow vibes of goodness.
Love
J9
Up at o-dark-hundred and manymany hours later ere I am... winding down the the lovely frabulous Allan, snuggled up with puppies, to the soundtrack of snoring form the couch (not me this time - I may have snored on the plane...) after a GIANT dinner in a great Vietnamese place in Fitzroy (which, sadly, out of habit, we inadvertently referred to as Thai on three separate occasions... oops... very understanding people, Vietnamese restaurant staff).
Anyway, I digress.
By several thousand kilometers this time, and what a world of good it's doing me. I feel younger, more interesting, stimulated, hopeful (but no thinner - how many bottles of wine got "knocked over" tonight?). Ah.
On the walk to the dinner-food-place we passed art stores, and bookstores, and a hat store, and a vegans place and and and! It was just great.
I am so grateful (as always) to Allan and Craig's generosity in letting me make their palatial home a bit messy in one corner - (Lee - listening?) so many great friends who have all invested very wisely in very expensive and well upholstered couches. Life is good.
Well tomorrow, I hope to catch up with a long-lost uni buddy who I have gotten back in touch with through FACEBOOK. Yes, after all that stupid ranting, it has borne tasty fruit immediately. I welcome our new robot overlords.
Over dinner we had a big chat about the possible Orwellian horrors of Google morphing all it knows about our dirty secret searches and face book accounts and dodgy second email setups (et al) and what kind of a future will it be when Bush and Howard merge it all into one database! Frankly, i just kinda feel sorry for the poor Level 2 temp who'll have to wade through the morass of shit i pump out on a nearly daily basis (The Eagle Has Landed) and try and figure out of I'm a terrorist (for the Chaser), a try-hard wannabe, or just a garden variety nutbar. Yay. Bring it on.
Okeydokey, enjoy the rain, culture, movies, bed - where ever you are, whatever you're doing - I'm sending you mellow vibes of goodness.
Love
J9
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Extreme Wind Warning
Despite the news talking-up this "severe low off the east coast" (another emo joke on the way?) and the big news that the beaches have been closed (OMG!! REALLY?!?!?!?!?! - yes, that's the Queensland mindset for you) we can all breathe easy - the planes are still flying.
The planned orbital mission to the great and enticing planet of Melbournia is now only hours away! Still in double digits, sure, but hours. One sleep.
Like all deprived children, I am counting on this trip to solve all my problems and make me a shiny, happy person again.
hahahahahaaa.
I've gotta go pack.
The planned orbital mission to the great and enticing planet of Melbournia is now only hours away! Still in double digits, sure, but hours. One sleep.
Like all deprived children, I am counting on this trip to solve all my problems and make me a shiny, happy person again.
hahahahahaaa.
I've gotta go pack.
Caved
I've lasted less than a week.
Yes, Facebook has another member.
I can't believe how many of you are already on it!
Will it all become clear? Is there a real point - maybe like all newbies I've accidentally navigated into a corner and am starting a a blank wall going, "i don't get it...".
Anyway, no gloating please.
Yes, Facebook has another member.
I can't believe how many of you are already on it!
Will it all become clear? Is there a real point - maybe like all newbies I've accidentally navigated into a corner and am starting a a blank wall going, "i don't get it...".
Anyway, no gloating please.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
By the Numbers
The last few days have been "doing it by the numbers" - structure and habit can really do the heavy lifting sometimes.
Get to work, even log-on and start responding to the dripping water-torture of email and not until the second cuppa realise that another day is well underway.
Nightmares the last two days have alleviated the stress and boredom of work. Very graphic dreams about murdering endless numbers of faceless people with my favourite kitchen knife, interspersed with grappling armed gunmen for survival does tend to make fretting about website copy sign-offs processes seem less intense.
Need I say that I am very much looking forward to a long weekend off interstate?! Off to embrace the delights of Melbourne and a long-overdue visit to see my beloved cousin.
The amount of writing at work seems to have decreased a lot in the last few weeks. Perhaps it is seasonal as is our publishing schedule. The other managers seem reticent to get me to draft things, and unwilling to change to a more chirpy/sales like patter. Hence our bookings remain low, responses to our ads are poor, and we get more of the same (mediocre) outcomes. This is actually a win because poor as it all seems to me - apparently this is better than how things were before. A little dispiriting.
Get to work, even log-on and start responding to the dripping water-torture of email and not until the second cuppa realise that another day is well underway.
Nightmares the last two days have alleviated the stress and boredom of work. Very graphic dreams about murdering endless numbers of faceless people with my favourite kitchen knife, interspersed with grappling armed gunmen for survival does tend to make fretting about website copy sign-offs processes seem less intense.
Need I say that I am very much looking forward to a long weekend off interstate?! Off to embrace the delights of Melbourne and a long-overdue visit to see my beloved cousin.
The amount of writing at work seems to have decreased a lot in the last few weeks. Perhaps it is seasonal as is our publishing schedule. The other managers seem reticent to get me to draft things, and unwilling to change to a more chirpy/sales like patter. Hence our bookings remain low, responses to our ads are poor, and we get more of the same (mediocre) outcomes. This is actually a win because poor as it all seems to me - apparently this is better than how things were before. A little dispiriting.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Peer Pressure
It seems having a blog is no longer enough to sate the digital connection-lust. First it was email, then a mobile, then a website (that passed thankfully), blueberries, blackberries, I skipped the avatar thing altogether, but I hear it's bigger than toothpaste, Ipods, then blogs, and now already a facebook. Well I'm not convinced. I was never able to delete that stupid orkut thing which is still sitting out there somewhere like a fridge turned off and gone bad. Hermetically sealed yet full of things long transformed from wholesome fun into evil sludge.
Sure, it's all good intentions.
Sure, it's all meant to help people stay connected and feel the love.
All great things.
But how many of these are we each serving? Got a personal email and a work one? Got a personal phone and a work one? Got a blog (or two or more for each of your idea sets, friend sets, forays into an alternate identity)? Yeah, you probably do. Got a pile of books you haven't read? Don't remember the last time you lay under a tree and watched clouds? Went somewhere or visited someone *spontaneously*?
Time time time time.
So very valuable, so unique and slippery like a tongue. Time. I want to spend less time with things that are electric and more time with things that are organic. Simple rule - hard to implement. And obviously the immediate response is that all these tools assist in process of the goal and sometimes the outcome. I am a late-adopter, that's cool by me. I am behind the curve and hard to convince. I am often wrong too, but I am at least also (largely) honest. I am barely writing, am barely regular with this little tool, am slack at returning emails, and am hard to reach by phone. Moody, irregular and difficult. Very loving and loyal, sure, but what I'm saying is that I know I'm not up to it. Parts of the world are passing me by (avatars!) and even though I think they're way cool (just like in Snow Crash!) I've got to draw a line - a line of reality - I can't do everything. In fact, turns out I can't do most things. This was never clear to me in my 20s.
I am hoping that although it is now very clear to me, it won't be the restriction is initially sounded like - and a liberation to do the few things that I can do, very well and with a lot of joy.
Another simple goal that could take a lifetime (and make a life worth living in the process).
Love youse all, but it's going to have to be my way.
Sure, it's all good intentions.
Sure, it's all meant to help people stay connected and feel the love.
All great things.
But how many of these are we each serving? Got a personal email and a work one? Got a personal phone and a work one? Got a blog (or two or more for each of your idea sets, friend sets, forays into an alternate identity)? Yeah, you probably do. Got a pile of books you haven't read? Don't remember the last time you lay under a tree and watched clouds? Went somewhere or visited someone *spontaneously*?
Time time time time.
So very valuable, so unique and slippery like a tongue. Time. I want to spend less time with things that are electric and more time with things that are organic. Simple rule - hard to implement. And obviously the immediate response is that all these tools assist in process of the goal and sometimes the outcome. I am a late-adopter, that's cool by me. I am behind the curve and hard to convince. I am often wrong too, but I am at least also (largely) honest. I am barely writing, am barely regular with this little tool, am slack at returning emails, and am hard to reach by phone. Moody, irregular and difficult. Very loving and loyal, sure, but what I'm saying is that I know I'm not up to it. Parts of the world are passing me by (avatars!) and even though I think they're way cool (just like in Snow Crash!) I've got to draw a line - a line of reality - I can't do everything. In fact, turns out I can't do most things. This was never clear to me in my 20s.
I am hoping that although it is now very clear to me, it won't be the restriction is initially sounded like - and a liberation to do the few things that I can do, very well and with a lot of joy.
Another simple goal that could take a lifetime (and make a life worth living in the process).
Love youse all, but it's going to have to be my way.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Happy Birfy Ma!
Ma is 60 today!
Yay for her.
She's off to the shops to spend her vouchers (and the ones she hoarded since chrissy) today and as she's had this week off work is in quite a gleeful mood.
Dinner tonight with some of the sisters and nieces to celebrate. I'm making pavlova - baked the meranguie bit last night (used a mix) and tonight it's just adding the cream, cherries, kiwifruit and bananas.
Yummo.
Yay for her.
She's off to the shops to spend her vouchers (and the ones she hoarded since chrissy) today and as she's had this week off work is in quite a gleeful mood.
Dinner tonight with some of the sisters and nieces to celebrate. I'm making pavlova - baked the meranguie bit last night (used a mix) and tonight it's just adding the cream, cherries, kiwifruit and bananas.
Yummo.
Craptacular!
Well the last two days were a crap blitzkrieg at work, but funnily enough with the GBS now having come under the spell of the roids, some new rockin' tracks on the pod thing, a good sleep and a satisfying dvd experience - it just doesn't seem as bad.
Plus, we got a shower of rain!! OMG - it went for about 10 minutes and then there was another short one later!! Wow, great news. Really. I think officially it came to just over 1mm in the measuring thingo. Mum is gloating about her 'waters' being on the money. Dad's been calling her Uri Geller - it's almost funny.
In other news, I inspected a house yesterday with an 'eye to buy' as they say here and it was a real money pit. An absolute stinker. Apparently the owner is "very negotiable" on price, yet has a full-price sticker on it... got a very Sydney feel to the market here at the moment, but all this brouhaha with sub-prime doodads ought to calm it all down to slightly more reasonable values. I'll be looking at another one on Friday. This one has no yard, but is well within my affordable range. It's a town house, two beds one LUG. Hmmm.... decisions decisions.....
Well, the sun is out, it's morning tea o'clock and I love youse all.
Plus, we got a shower of rain!! OMG - it went for about 10 minutes and then there was another short one later!! Wow, great news. Really. I think officially it came to just over 1mm in the measuring thingo. Mum is gloating about her 'waters' being on the money. Dad's been calling her Uri Geller - it's almost funny.
In other news, I inspected a house yesterday with an 'eye to buy' as they say here and it was a real money pit. An absolute stinker. Apparently the owner is "very negotiable" on price, yet has a full-price sticker on it... got a very Sydney feel to the market here at the moment, but all this brouhaha with sub-prime doodads ought to calm it all down to slightly more reasonable values. I'll be looking at another one on Friday. This one has no yard, but is well within my affordable range. It's a town house, two beds one LUG. Hmmm.... decisions decisions.....
Well, the sun is out, it's morning tea o'clock and I love youse all.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Bowser Rage
How horrible to be so strung out that when someone cut-in on the bowser queue this morning I honked and was angry - with the chopping hand gestures and everything.
Turns out that they could see that the next one up was disabled, but they needed the diesel/premium bit. I was worried Audrey would conk out in line from being on the red the whole way in. Why is it that when I'm stressed about work, I rush to get there? And rush in that mindless anxious way. Well it's no good for me and it's no good for the people around me. Sorry smug couple in the expensive new car, I am uncool and I apologise. It would have been much better if I could have recovered myself quickly enough to apologise at the time, but that's life huh?
So, Bowser Rage. We didn't conk out, I still got to work early, I've dealt with the fiddly tasks and general sense of unease that I had and now am tallying up the karmic damage. I initially considered opening with Jayne's beautiful line "She's damaging my calm" but sadly I couldn't honestly say I had any calm this morning. I can't blame the drugs (coming off the 'roids man!) and I can't blame my pent-up frustrations at still living in a box out of a suitcase and being tired and empty. This day is the very life of life. I must face this and face it down.
Turns out that they could see that the next one up was disabled, but they needed the diesel/premium bit. I was worried Audrey would conk out in line from being on the red the whole way in. Why is it that when I'm stressed about work, I rush to get there? And rush in that mindless anxious way. Well it's no good for me and it's no good for the people around me. Sorry smug couple in the expensive new car, I am uncool and I apologise. It would have been much better if I could have recovered myself quickly enough to apologise at the time, but that's life huh?
So, Bowser Rage. We didn't conk out, I still got to work early, I've dealt with the fiddly tasks and general sense of unease that I had and now am tallying up the karmic damage. I initially considered opening with Jayne's beautiful line "She's damaging my calm" but sadly I couldn't honestly say I had any calm this morning. I can't blame the drugs (coming off the 'roids man!) and I can't blame my pent-up frustrations at still living in a box out of a suitcase and being tired and empty. This day is the very life of life. I must face this and face it down.
Friday, August 10, 2007
More Eating Stories
Fresh Cauliflowers actually taste good.
Wow - I'd forgotten all about caulies - having so often gotten those slightly rubbery, almost woody tasting things from woolies. I'd kinda given up on them.
Peter bought round two he'd just picked from his garden late yesterday arvo. The leaves hadn't even wilted. They were beautiful. He handed them to me and I could smell the delicate, light scent of fresh cauliflower. Yum yum yum. I was just planning dinner and it didn't take much to swerve from mashed spuds (oh god not again) to steamed caulies in a white sauce. I made a pot of it to go with the tomatoe and lentil bake. Tonight I'll make a pie with them and some corn and carraway seeds.
I can't wait to plant tomatoes for summer. Freshly grown food really does taste so very good, and it is inspiring to have it sitting on the bench and filling the kitchen with smell ideas, rather than bundled in plastic in the fridge/morgue going slowly creepy.
Wow - I'd forgotten all about caulies - having so often gotten those slightly rubbery, almost woody tasting things from woolies. I'd kinda given up on them.
Peter bought round two he'd just picked from his garden late yesterday arvo. The leaves hadn't even wilted. They were beautiful. He handed them to me and I could smell the delicate, light scent of fresh cauliflower. Yum yum yum. I was just planning dinner and it didn't take much to swerve from mashed spuds (oh god not again) to steamed caulies in a white sauce. I made a pot of it to go with the tomatoe and lentil bake. Tonight I'll make a pie with them and some corn and carraway seeds.
I can't wait to plant tomatoes for summer. Freshly grown food really does taste so very good, and it is inspiring to have it sitting on the bench and filling the kitchen with smell ideas, rather than bundled in plastic in the fridge/morgue going slowly creepy.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Massive Oversight
can you believe that we don't have a recipe for RUM BALLS in this house?
Mum pulled out *every*single*one* of her books last night.
"I've found loads of pavlova recipes." she says. Guess what she wants made for her birthday? Great. Still no Rum Balls idea. Thankfully, the internet has been invented....
So, doing some research this morning, Gourmet Traveller failed me, (more often than not actually, but when they do come through it's good, very good) but this is good anyway because it means I have discovered this little gem of a website:
http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/10/rum-balls-recipe.html
What a ripper! Really good quality clear instructions and photos. I'm not sure I'm going to put pineapple in my carrot cake anytime soon( http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/07/carrot-cake-recipe.html ) (no matter how long I am in Queensland) but this website will be helping me get some more classics under my apron tie!
Yay!
Through the love of Mez and back issues of BUST magazine, I've met the very enjoyable Amy Bugbee (met in an internet way - I've read her blog/s and laughed at her antics. She wouldn't know me from turtle poo), and she is the woman behind "Hellraiser Homemaker" go and meet her yourself - she and her husband rock!
Mum pulled out *every*single*one* of her books last night.
"I've found loads of pavlova recipes." she says. Guess what she wants made for her birthday? Great. Still no Rum Balls idea. Thankfully, the internet has been invented....
So, doing some research this morning, Gourmet Traveller failed me, (more often than not actually, but when they do come through it's good, very good) but this is good anyway because it means I have discovered this little gem of a website:
http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/10/rum-balls-recipe.html
What a ripper! Really good quality clear instructions and photos. I'm not sure I'm going to put pineapple in my carrot cake anytime soon( http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/07/carrot-cake-recipe.html ) (no matter how long I am in Queensland) but this website will be helping me get some more classics under my apron tie!
Yay!
Through the love of Mez and back issues of BUST magazine, I've met the very enjoyable Amy Bugbee (met in an internet way - I've read her blog/s and laughed at her antics. She wouldn't know me from turtle poo), and she is the woman behind "Hellraiser Homemaker" go and meet her yourself - she and her husband rock!
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Happy Birfy Dad
Dad's birthday today and he got a cup of tea in bed and loads of goodies. Last night i asked him what kind of cake he wanted, and he said "vanilla sponge with chocolate icing" so that's what I made for him, using my new heart-shaped pan (mucks around your cooking time - bakers beware!). He got to sit in his chair and watch stupid tv while I bought him the beaters to lick, then the bowl, then I found an icing recipe that concluded with "eat directly from bowl" so that's gotta taste good, and it did. He's all set for a great day.
The weekend included a large donation of kitchen goods and homewares from Wazza whose mum sold her house so she could go into a home. I got some very lovely baking pans (that's where the love-heart shaped cake tin came from) a big oval casserole dish (must be about 3 - 5 L) and a 4 piece china dinner set. It was very kind of them to think of others at that point.
The new season of calves have started hitting the ground, which is fun, but quite sadly we decided to send all of last year's calves (the weaners) off to market because with no rain even the dead grass is now gone and there's just nothing for them to eat. The new calves are very sweet and adorable. There's something fundamentally gratifying and spring-like about seeing tiny mammals cavorting and learning about the world. Plus, this is the only time you can pick up a cow. Mum and I had to do that on the weekend when one of the new ones got separated from her mum and ran out of puff and just collapsed. Her mum had wandered off, and so we had to pick up the little one and carry her (well I couldn't hold her so I ran and got the wheelbarrow!) and take her to her mum. There was a tense moment when we waited to see if she smelt too much like humans to be recognised again by mama cow - but she licked the icky smell off her and got her sucking again, and all was well. Yay.
The weekend included a large donation of kitchen goods and homewares from Wazza whose mum sold her house so she could go into a home. I got some very lovely baking pans (that's where the love-heart shaped cake tin came from) a big oval casserole dish (must be about 3 - 5 L) and a 4 piece china dinner set. It was very kind of them to think of others at that point.
The new season of calves have started hitting the ground, which is fun, but quite sadly we decided to send all of last year's calves (the weaners) off to market because with no rain even the dead grass is now gone and there's just nothing for them to eat. The new calves are very sweet and adorable. There's something fundamentally gratifying and spring-like about seeing tiny mammals cavorting and learning about the world. Plus, this is the only time you can pick up a cow. Mum and I had to do that on the weekend when one of the new ones got separated from her mum and ran out of puff and just collapsed. Her mum had wandered off, and so we had to pick up the little one and carry her (well I couldn't hold her so I ran and got the wheelbarrow!) and take her to her mum. There was a tense moment when we waited to see if she smelt too much like humans to be recognised again by mama cow - but she licked the icky smell off her and got her sucking again, and all was well. Yay.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Three Magpies on a Branch
They warbled me awake and the dawn was golden on the gum's pale branches. I like the mornings here when the breeze sighs through the leaves and a birdcall can sit on the air.
August opened with the first calf of the season. A tiny little thing seen from the bathroom window, cavorting around in the fog on wednesday morning. Ma and I stood and watched - a lovely moment. Of course being the beginning of August meant that July was done, and we could look back and say "not a single drop of rain fell on our property during the month of July". We wouldn't say it, not out loud anyway. We all know it. We live and live and live with it. So apart from the newly painted house, we're a thousand shades of brown now. Even the brown is looking browner, drier, paler. Deader.
Mum is acting pretty confident that it's going to rain next week, but I think she's either full of shit, or hopeful to the point of being criminally insane. I mean I hope she's right, but I left off how her reason for this rock-solid belief was that she could "feel it in her waters." We don't have any waters. That's the point. You've got no water to feel it in woman!! Had she said "I can feel it in me whisky bladder" I would have put money on it.
Other great news (it's all about me) is that it looks like I'll be able to work towards a film program here next year. I know that's vague, but trust me - that's nearly 6 weeks of pained discussions to get to the position where we've agreed what it is NOT to be, when it is not to be, and that we will discuss at a later time what it should be a lot more like, and who we want to come. This is a solid win! I also took away from this meeting the implicit understanding that this could get to within a chook's tooth of happening and get cancelled/completely co-opted. That also is just how things are here. Despite sounding like a horrible meeting, in a sad, Ipswichian way, i believe it is all actually a desire to protect me from innocently harming myself, and really a sign of trust and expectation in me and my abilities.
Or a setup. We'll see.
August opened with the first calf of the season. A tiny little thing seen from the bathroom window, cavorting around in the fog on wednesday morning. Ma and I stood and watched - a lovely moment. Of course being the beginning of August meant that July was done, and we could look back and say "not a single drop of rain fell on our property during the month of July". We wouldn't say it, not out loud anyway. We all know it. We live and live and live with it. So apart from the newly painted house, we're a thousand shades of brown now. Even the brown is looking browner, drier, paler. Deader.
Mum is acting pretty confident that it's going to rain next week, but I think she's either full of shit, or hopeful to the point of being criminally insane. I mean I hope she's right, but I left off how her reason for this rock-solid belief was that she could "feel it in her waters." We don't have any waters. That's the point. You've got no water to feel it in woman!! Had she said "I can feel it in me whisky bladder" I would have put money on it.
Other great news (it's all about me) is that it looks like I'll be able to work towards a film program here next year. I know that's vague, but trust me - that's nearly 6 weeks of pained discussions to get to the position where we've agreed what it is NOT to be, when it is not to be, and that we will discuss at a later time what it should be a lot more like, and who we want to come. This is a solid win! I also took away from this meeting the implicit understanding that this could get to within a chook's tooth of happening and get cancelled/completely co-opted. That also is just how things are here. Despite sounding like a horrible meeting, in a sad, Ipswichian way, i believe it is all actually a desire to protect me from innocently harming myself, and really a sign of trust and expectation in me and my abilities.
Or a setup. We'll see.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Pope Calls on Potter Fans
Recent permission for Catholics to revert to holding their mass in Latin has revealed a minor snag - very few priests can read or remember how to recite the Latin mass. Pope Benedict considers turning to the worldwide legions of Harry Potter fans "At least those kids can get their mouths around it. This is our chance to show them that Catholicism can be cool too - after all, we had Latin first!"
The Vatican has remained silent on possible podcast options or movie tie-ins.
The Vatican has remained silent on possible podcast options or movie tie-ins.
Crack in the Ranks
How does it happen that one day all your underpants have suddenly voted and split themselves clearly into two camps? They're now irrefutably droppers or clutchers and no comfortable middle-ground can be met. Clearly this is why one should never ever catch up all the laundry - they need a quorum to hold the vote. I've tried negotiation, I've tried work to rule, I've tried bargaining, but there's nothing for it. This is a vital service, I'm going to use emergency executive powers and replace the lot with scabs.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Tidy Up
Well hey there compadres!
There's loads of little things to tell you all about. First of all, thank you to everyone who's sent me a message of any kind in support of pulling through the last few weeks. The GBS is now battling the prednisolone/salofalk and I think loosing. The side effects (mostly I get very restless and only slightly cranky - so hard for other people to tell there's any difference really) of the drugs have been more manageable this time as the dose wasn't as high and got stepped-back more quickly. The new doctor seems thoughtful and intelligent and I'll be seeing a new specialist soon. I like the idea that I am assembling a "crack" (sorry about any arse puns that make their way into this post) team of brave and compassionate souls all fighting for a better world. Yes, I have been reading too much Harry Potter.
That reminds me. HOW GOOD IS BOOK SEVEN?!?!!! No Spoilers here - don't be concerned. I really enjoyed it, and yes I know there's many points of discussion about what a better book/series might be... but I am living with the experience I am having, not the one I think I ought to have - and that has to go for books, comics, movies and transport options too. We'll talk later, I'm sure.
Major Family Moment on the weekend. After months of planning and preparation (mostly by my very able and forthright sisters) Ma & Pa's poor white trash shack of house has been transformed into a sunflower bright butterfly house. OMG. Isn't it amazing what eleven people, hundreds of dollars of paint and about 16 litres of tea can achieve?! The shock-troops arrived on saturday morning around 9am (yes, I was just getting up and had jammies and gritty eyes) and had a full first coat of paint on the place by lunch. Huge. I offered (wisely I thought at the time) to stay out of the way (my uncle and cousins are professional house painters) and to do the catering. What an undertaking. Imagine the logistics of serving and provisioning eleven hungry folk for morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, morning tea and lunch. I will never be intimidated by Christmas again! Many thanks to Sis2 for sporadic assistance, a warm haven for the night and a restful breakfast before re-entering the fray. Ma is delighted with the outcome and we're all pleased it's over. In a happy way.
The portugese tarts were ok. The pastry was a wreck (i measured a key ingredient incorrectly and turned it from flaky pastry to shortbread - no one seemed to mind) but the custard totally made up for it. This is the *best*ever* custard and well worth the time it takes to assemble. I will be trying the custard in a vanilla slice-type environment to see how I go with store pastry (as we have a huge bag of passionfruit to use).
Today I have sent away an application for a regional writers scholarship through the Queensland Arts Council. If I get it, it means 3 weeks at a writing retreat in Varuna. I have applied once before for a mentorship there - it's a brilliant setup in the Blue Mountains. I don't want to get too excited, I don't even know how long it takes for them to decide and everything, or how many people apply for this. But just putting together the material for the application was actually a brilliant process and very worthwhile. It helped me to get back on track for my writing goals for the rest of the year. Light a stick of incense for me - I'll keep you informed.
Finally, it seems to have taken years, but Beowulf, Stardust and His Dark Materials: Golden Compass are all about to hit the big screens. What a glut! YAHOO!!!!
Just make sure you go read the books first. Really.
(Yes, the Hearney translation of Beowulf - through Faber, oh, I think Penguin bought out Faber... just go to the library ok!).
Really finally... Crazy Clark's has closed down across the road from my office window. Out of no-where friday was their last day. What a trash and desolate place the Ipswich "CBD" is now with more vacant shops than filled ones. This is the natural predatory order of things in the capitalist jungle. Perhaps this culling will allow some sunlight in and some new things to take root. I live in hope.
There's loads of little things to tell you all about. First of all, thank you to everyone who's sent me a message of any kind in support of pulling through the last few weeks. The GBS is now battling the prednisolone/salofalk and I think loosing. The side effects (mostly I get very restless and only slightly cranky - so hard for other people to tell there's any difference really) of the drugs have been more manageable this time as the dose wasn't as high and got stepped-back more quickly. The new doctor seems thoughtful and intelligent and I'll be seeing a new specialist soon. I like the idea that I am assembling a "crack" (sorry about any arse puns that make their way into this post) team of brave and compassionate souls all fighting for a better world. Yes, I have been reading too much Harry Potter.
That reminds me. HOW GOOD IS BOOK SEVEN?!?!!! No Spoilers here - don't be concerned. I really enjoyed it, and yes I know there's many points of discussion about what a better book/series might be... but I am living with the experience I am having, not the one I think I ought to have - and that has to go for books, comics, movies and transport options too. We'll talk later, I'm sure.
Major Family Moment on the weekend. After months of planning and preparation (mostly by my very able and forthright sisters) Ma & Pa's poor white trash shack of house has been transformed into a sunflower bright butterfly house. OMG. Isn't it amazing what eleven people, hundreds of dollars of paint and about 16 litres of tea can achieve?! The shock-troops arrived on saturday morning around 9am (yes, I was just getting up and had jammies and gritty eyes) and had a full first coat of paint on the place by lunch. Huge. I offered (wisely I thought at the time) to stay out of the way (my uncle and cousins are professional house painters) and to do the catering. What an undertaking. Imagine the logistics of serving and provisioning eleven hungry folk for morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, morning tea and lunch. I will never be intimidated by Christmas again! Many thanks to Sis2 for sporadic assistance, a warm haven for the night and a restful breakfast before re-entering the fray. Ma is delighted with the outcome and we're all pleased it's over. In a happy way.
The portugese tarts were ok. The pastry was a wreck (i measured a key ingredient incorrectly and turned it from flaky pastry to shortbread - no one seemed to mind) but the custard totally made up for it. This is the *best*ever* custard and well worth the time it takes to assemble. I will be trying the custard in a vanilla slice-type environment to see how I go with store pastry (as we have a huge bag of passionfruit to use).
Today I have sent away an application for a regional writers scholarship through the Queensland Arts Council. If I get it, it means 3 weeks at a writing retreat in Varuna. I have applied once before for a mentorship there - it's a brilliant setup in the Blue Mountains. I don't want to get too excited, I don't even know how long it takes for them to decide and everything, or how many people apply for this. But just putting together the material for the application was actually a brilliant process and very worthwhile. It helped me to get back on track for my writing goals for the rest of the year. Light a stick of incense for me - I'll keep you informed.
Finally, it seems to have taken years, but Beowulf, Stardust and His Dark Materials: Golden Compass are all about to hit the big screens. What a glut! YAHOO!!!!
Just make sure you go read the books first. Really.
(Yes, the Hearney translation of Beowulf - through Faber, oh, I think Penguin bought out Faber... just go to the library ok!).
Really finally... Crazy Clark's has closed down across the road from my office window. Out of no-where friday was their last day. What a trash and desolate place the Ipswich "CBD" is now with more vacant shops than filled ones. This is the natural predatory order of things in the capitalist jungle. Perhaps this culling will allow some sunlight in and some new things to take root. I live in hope.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Sloppy
One of my (few) male coworkers in the "Shiny Ice-Cold Sex" department (ie: marketing) had a very funny reaction to a simple word the other day. It was amazing to watch, so obviously, I had to say it a few times to check that it wasn't a fluke.
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
Life Enlivened by The Onion
This made me laugh today, so I thought I would share it with you:
Earthquake Sets Japan Back To 2147
July 23, 2007 Issue 43•30
TOKYO—Japanese government officials confirmed Monday that the damage wrought on Japan's national infrastructure by the July 16th earthquake—particularly on the country's protective force field, quantum teleportation system, zero-point fusion energy broadcasting grid, and psychodynamic communications network—was severe enough to set the technologically advanced island nation back approximately 300 years to a primitive mid-22nd-century state of existence.
"Japan finds itself in crisis, with our society and culture temporarily reverting to a pre-cyberunification era," said Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe, communicating non-telekinetically for the first time in his nearly 150 years of post-cryogenic life. "Though many citizens have been limited to algorithm-based emotion detection, neutron baths, speed limits below the speed of light, and other barbaric inconveniences for over a week now, I promise we will pull through." {more}
Hehehehehe. Those crazy guys!
Earthquake Sets Japan Back To 2147
July 23, 2007 Issue 43•30
TOKYO—Japanese government officials confirmed Monday that the damage wrought on Japan's national infrastructure by the July 16th earthquake—particularly on the country's protective force field, quantum teleportation system, zero-point fusion energy broadcasting grid, and psychodynamic communications network—was severe enough to set the technologically advanced island nation back approximately 300 years to a primitive mid-22nd-century state of existence.
"Japan finds itself in crisis, with our society and culture temporarily reverting to a pre-cyberunification era," said Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe, communicating non-telekinetically for the first time in his nearly 150 years of post-cryogenic life. "Though many citizens have been limited to algorithm-based emotion detection, neutron baths, speed limits below the speed of light, and other barbaric inconveniences for over a week now, I promise we will pull through." {more}
Hehehehehe. Those crazy guys!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Thanatos
Work is looking into doing a thing on skulls.
There are a lot more skulls in art than you may initially think of. Damian Hirst has the most famous one at the moment where he's made on (or encrusted on - I'm not sure ) with about 10 thousand diamonds. It's been on display at White Cube in London - but I think that show is finished now. There was berserk security - you'd be escorted two people at a time into the darkened room for a maximum of 2 - 5 minutes. Good marketing if you ask me. I heard a rumour that George Michael was thinking of buying it. I just checked. It's 8500 diamonds, and the skull is cast in platinum and *then* encrusted.
I digress.
Out of interest and excitement, I started reading a bit more about the representational aspects of skulls, and came across a chap I'd never heard of - Thanatos. A "minor" figure in Greek Mythology (he's just death after all) or, once again I've checked , and he was probably minor in the Greek pantheon due to being in charge of "peaceful death" unlike Keres who took on violent death and so therefore is obviously much cooler. Freud apparently went on later to use his name to refer to a "death drive" (early emo?) .
I'm not sure yet what there is to do with this new knowledge of this old character. He has been utilised by many a band and a couple of death cult types (despite Keres). There's just something about this name and idea that sound rich. I've had it on a postie note for a few weeks now, and that's normally the test - after a few days it'll come down from the monitor and go in the bin ... but there he is. I think he's waiting for the right cross pollination to bang into him.
There are a lot more skulls in art than you may initially think of. Damian Hirst has the most famous one at the moment where he's made on (or encrusted on - I'm not sure ) with about 10 thousand diamonds. It's been on display at White Cube in London - but I think that show is finished now. There was berserk security - you'd be escorted two people at a time into the darkened room for a maximum of 2 - 5 minutes. Good marketing if you ask me. I heard a rumour that George Michael was thinking of buying it. I just checked. It's 8500 diamonds, and the skull is cast in platinum and *then* encrusted.
I digress.
Out of interest and excitement, I started reading a bit more about the representational aspects of skulls, and came across a chap I'd never heard of - Thanatos. A "minor" figure in Greek Mythology (he's just death after all) or, once again I've checked , and he was probably minor in the Greek pantheon due to being in charge of "peaceful death" unlike Keres who took on violent death and so therefore is obviously much cooler. Freud apparently went on later to use his name to refer to a "death drive" (early emo?) .
I'm not sure yet what there is to do with this new knowledge of this old character. He has been utilised by many a band and a couple of death cult types (despite Keres). There's just something about this name and idea that sound rich. I've had it on a postie note for a few weeks now, and that's normally the test - after a few days it'll come down from the monitor and go in the bin ... but there he is. I think he's waiting for the right cross pollination to bang into him.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Final Installment
It would be remiss to let this weekend pass and not say: "HARRY POTTER".
A new film and the last book.
I enjoy the books, I've saved up reading #6 so that I can read the last two in a row. Getting to the end of #5 and knowing that it could be *years* before I found out what happened next was the kind of annoyance I could not choose to put myself through again. Plus there's the pleasure that latecomers have - when a series is complete and one can be totally immersed in it. Yum yum yum.
I went yesterday to see the film with Sis2 who had taken her chillen and so had missed large chunks of it. We had a very good time, and dark Malteasers.
Today I am trying a new recipe - Portuguese Custard Tarts. I've never even tried making pastry of this calibre before, so I am feeling a bit intimidated, but as I have a captive, appreciative audience who hasn't eaten them in Little Portugal, I am hopeful of a positive experience.
A new film and the last book.
I enjoy the books, I've saved up reading #6 so that I can read the last two in a row. Getting to the end of #5 and knowing that it could be *years* before I found out what happened next was the kind of annoyance I could not choose to put myself through again. Plus there's the pleasure that latecomers have - when a series is complete and one can be totally immersed in it. Yum yum yum.
I went yesterday to see the film with Sis2 who had taken her chillen and so had missed large chunks of it. We had a very good time, and dark Malteasers.
Today I am trying a new recipe - Portuguese Custard Tarts. I've never even tried making pastry of this calibre before, so I am feeling a bit intimidated, but as I have a captive, appreciative audience who hasn't eaten them in Little Portugal, I am hopeful of a positive experience.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Meet me Half Way
George prayed every day for three years to win the lottery, but never heard from God or hit the jackpot. Finally, God woke him up in the middle of the night.
"George, is that you who's been praying so hard to win the lottery?" the Supreme Being boomed.
"Yes, Lord, desperately!"
God paused for a moment, then said thoughtfully,
"George, I'll tell you what. I want you to meet me halfway. Buy a ticket, OK?"
"George, is that you who's been praying so hard to win the lottery?" the Supreme Being boomed.
"Yes, Lord, desperately!"
God paused for a moment, then said thoughtfully,
"George, I'll tell you what. I want you to meet me halfway. Buy a ticket, OK?"
Sleepwalking
ooooh Shiver me timbers!
It's been cold enough to freeze the balls from a brass monkey.
We are so very far from water here that I remain enamoured of the faux nautical/piratical terminology in everyday use for reasons of high irony and shall continue to use them no matter how out of step I remain/become.
I digress.
It has been jolly cold - with many a morning spiking down below zero, and a week of weather in the more-than-5-degrees-below-normal type range, and yet dry dry dry. This makes sleeping fully enclosed within the doona-cocoon the best option. I am thinking of finding my snorkel, or perhaps modifying one of Pa's safety masks to bring in the trickle of fresh air that I need, which the dog seems to do fine without.
Today has been the first day all week, that I don't feel that I'm sleepwalking through the day, waiting to thaw before my brain can wake. I am putting this down to having a double breakfast and a 4 minute Scorching Shower before setting off in Audrey for work. And now another coffee.
Being sick at the moment with the Great Bowel Serpent (GBS)... saying ulcerative colitis all the time just sounds like I'm some pathetic Harry Potter wannabe with a spell that doesn't work... coffee isn't really the right thing to be turning to.
On the other hand, I'm looking at it more like Thunderdome - you want to send another combatant in or it's just no fun at all! Oh hahahahahaa. How I do entertain myself!
It's been cold enough to freeze the balls from a brass monkey.
We are so very far from water here that I remain enamoured of the faux nautical/piratical terminology in everyday use for reasons of high irony and shall continue to use them no matter how out of step I remain/become.
I digress.
It has been jolly cold - with many a morning spiking down below zero, and a week of weather in the more-than-5-degrees-below-normal type range, and yet dry dry dry. This makes sleeping fully enclosed within the doona-cocoon the best option. I am thinking of finding my snorkel, or perhaps modifying one of Pa's safety masks to bring in the trickle of fresh air that I need, which the dog seems to do fine without.
Today has been the first day all week, that I don't feel that I'm sleepwalking through the day, waiting to thaw before my brain can wake. I am putting this down to having a double breakfast and a 4 minute Scorching Shower before setting off in Audrey for work. And now another coffee.
Being sick at the moment with the Great Bowel Serpent (GBS)... saying ulcerative colitis all the time just sounds like I'm some pathetic Harry Potter wannabe with a spell that doesn't work... coffee isn't really the right thing to be turning to.
On the other hand, I'm looking at it more like Thunderdome - you want to send another combatant in or it's just no fun at all! Oh hahahahahaa. How I do entertain myself!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
International Moment
BTW
How good is the exchange rate at the moment?!?!!
No longer do I have to double the price of something to see if I can afford the postage! A $32 shirt cost $36. OMG.
I don't believe in commercialism, consumption, this wastage of our natural resources on petty entertainments.
That's the official line - but I'm a woman - I have needs, okay?!
At the moment, I *need* Macbeth as directed by Polanski. I just do.
I *need* to go on the Christmas Browncoat cruise and I don't know why.
Let's not go into this, but nearly 90 cents to the dollar, c'mon!
Hey... that gets me thinking. China. Big country, right? America - big debt - largely to China as far as I can make out (this is hazy, they don't seem to like to admit where all this money is owed). How long do you reckon until the global economy really starts to tilt away from America? Loads of little countries (think those teeny ones in Africa) just go to China for aid now. China gives it too - for a cut. Of land, or jobs. Mercenary. Effective.
Maybe the next Roman empire will manifest in my lifetime, and it will be Chinese.
So very many people have been there before me on this one, it's only a surprise that I bothered.
Last question - Cantonese or Mandarin lessons?
How good is the exchange rate at the moment?!?!!
No longer do I have to double the price of something to see if I can afford the postage! A $32 shirt cost $36. OMG.
I don't believe in commercialism, consumption, this wastage of our natural resources on petty entertainments.
That's the official line - but I'm a woman - I have needs, okay?!
At the moment, I *need* Macbeth as directed by Polanski. I just do.
I *need* to go on the Christmas Browncoat cruise and I don't know why.
Let's not go into this, but nearly 90 cents to the dollar, c'mon!
Hey... that gets me thinking. China. Big country, right? America - big debt - largely to China as far as I can make out (this is hazy, they don't seem to like to admit where all this money is owed). How long do you reckon until the global economy really starts to tilt away from America? Loads of little countries (think those teeny ones in Africa) just go to China for aid now. China gives it too - for a cut. Of land, or jobs. Mercenary. Effective.
Maybe the next Roman empire will manifest in my lifetime, and it will be Chinese.
So very many people have been there before me on this one, it's only a surprise that I bothered.
Last question - Cantonese or Mandarin lessons?
The Germans!
I meant to salute the Germans before they left, but life was intense for a handful of days and wrapped me up.
Iris and Matthias bought their incandescence to our humble farm house for the weekend. It was a glory to share some time with them, and be able to provide a range of roos and wallabies for their first stay on a farm. They recorded the sound of our farm for use later in their art, and somehow, somewhere very deeply, this has pleased me immensely. Oh yeah, and they intrigued my parents and were very good company and basically it was a great time. I learnt a new description for ruma and coke - Cuba Libre - cuba free - an allusion to rum/cuba and America/coke. oh hilarity hilarity. Of course it's even cooler when you say it with a German accent "cooba Leeba" . We played pool in the pool room, and even that seemed pretty hilarious at the time. I taught Iris how to make scones. Much fun was had by all.
Really, after all my moaning and fretting when Lee & Andy came out worrying about would it be ok?, would they find it?, was it all an elaborate hoax to trick me? - I must now admit that this has been a fantastic run of intrepid souls gracing us.
Iris & Matthias travel on up towards Cairns for the next few weeks, and I hope they enjoy many over sized and tacky "Big Objects" (they saw the Big Pineapple on the way here) and that the Great Barrier Reef is still alive when they get there.
Travel well, see you next time.
Iris and Matthias bought their incandescence to our humble farm house for the weekend. It was a glory to share some time with them, and be able to provide a range of roos and wallabies for their first stay on a farm. They recorded the sound of our farm for use later in their art, and somehow, somewhere very deeply, this has pleased me immensely. Oh yeah, and they intrigued my parents and were very good company and basically it was a great time. I learnt a new description for ruma and coke - Cuba Libre - cuba free - an allusion to rum/cuba and America/coke. oh hilarity hilarity. Of course it's even cooler when you say it with a German accent "cooba Leeba" . We played pool in the pool room, and even that seemed pretty hilarious at the time. I taught Iris how to make scones. Much fun was had by all.
Really, after all my moaning and fretting when Lee & Andy came out worrying about would it be ok?, would they find it?, was it all an elaborate hoax to trick me? - I must now admit that this has been a fantastic run of intrepid souls gracing us.
Iris & Matthias travel on up towards Cairns for the next few weeks, and I hope they enjoy many over sized and tacky "Big Objects" (they saw the Big Pineapple on the way here) and that the Great Barrier Reef is still alive when they get there.
Travel well, see you next time.
Lil Goes to Silverdale
Lil the Cow and two of her cowpatriots went to Silverdale this afternoon. None of us were here to wave them off, the local truck-driving man knows the drill and loaded them hisself, filled in the paperwork, possibly patted a dog, and was gone.
Gone from our lives, Lil. Ma's second ever purebred Limousin cow who she got before they moved out here to the big farm, mustuv been about 14 or 15 years ago, and she's been breeding ever since. But here's how it goes; we're running out of feed, there's young uns to keep (although most will go soon to Silverdale too) and the dam's getting low low.
So despite the fetal hope in their bellies they're at the Silverdale yards tonight, and tomorrow someone will buy them and we hope it will be a loving family with paddocks of knee-high clover who will love them until their natural end.
Yeah, and then I'll win lotto.
Gone from our lives, Lil. Ma's second ever purebred Limousin cow who she got before they moved out here to the big farm, mustuv been about 14 or 15 years ago, and she's been breeding ever since. But here's how it goes; we're running out of feed, there's young uns to keep (although most will go soon to Silverdale too) and the dam's getting low low.
So despite the fetal hope in their bellies they're at the Silverdale yards tonight, and tomorrow someone will buy them and we hope it will be a loving family with paddocks of knee-high clover who will love them until their natural end.
Yeah, and then I'll win lotto.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Aust Post: Axis of Evil?
Increasingly the "service" from Australia Post grates harshly.
Queues, dullness of intellect, poor English skills, padded product ranges - all these are but nothing compared to the incessant creep of that most insidious franchise behaviour: the upsell.
"May I have a book of ten stamps please?" is no longer a request, but an invitation to offer me a ream of paper on special, envelopes, a book of 20 stamps, a pack of highlighters.
"Just the stamps....gritted teeth...please."
Do they think we are that inane? That dim witted?
"Gosh, I forgot, yes, I am completely out of envelopes, highlighters, and dodgy teddy bears (stocked here for no apparent purpose), load me up!"
If I could buy stamps from a slot in the wall I would, and willingly, to forgo this element of modern life. Are there no standards anywhere anymore?
Queues, dullness of intellect, poor English skills, padded product ranges - all these are but nothing compared to the incessant creep of that most insidious franchise behaviour: the upsell.
"May I have a book of ten stamps please?" is no longer a request, but an invitation to offer me a ream of paper on special, envelopes, a book of 20 stamps, a pack of highlighters.
"Just the stamps....gritted teeth...please."
Do they think we are that inane? That dim witted?
"Gosh, I forgot, yes, I am completely out of envelopes, highlighters, and dodgy teddy bears (stocked here for no apparent purpose), load me up!"
If I could buy stamps from a slot in the wall I would, and willingly, to forgo this element of modern life. Are there no standards anywhere anymore?
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