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.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
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?
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Quarterly Essay
They just keep delivering the good stuff.
Here's a short excerpt from the intro (pg3/4) to the current Quarterly Essay "His Master’s Voice: The corruption of Public Debate under Howard" by David Marr.
"At the heart of democracy is a contest of conversations. The tone of a democracy is set by the dialogue between a nation and its leaders. For the last decade, Australia has had a prime minister who thinks it beneath him to admit mistakes…
But after being belittled for most of his political career, Howard came to power determined public debate would be conducted on his terms. They are subtle, bizarre and at times brutal. This essay is about those terms and why Australians put up with them. Since 1996, Howard has cowed his critics, muffled the press, intimidated the ABC, gagged scientists, silenced non-government organisations, neutered Canberra’s mandarins, curtailed parliamentary scrutiny, censored the arts, banned books, criminalised protest and prosecuted whistleblowers."
This is just him warming up. There's a great essay here, and also really enjoyable, rhythmic writing. Just the thing to go with watching Deadwood.
Here's a short excerpt from the intro (pg3/4) to the current Quarterly Essay "His Master’s Voice: The corruption of Public Debate under Howard" by David Marr.
"At the heart of democracy is a contest of conversations. The tone of a democracy is set by the dialogue between a nation and its leaders. For the last decade, Australia has had a prime minister who thinks it beneath him to admit mistakes…
But after being belittled for most of his political career, Howard came to power determined public debate would be conducted on his terms. They are subtle, bizarre and at times brutal. This essay is about those terms and why Australians put up with them. Since 1996, Howard has cowed his critics, muffled the press, intimidated the ABC, gagged scientists, silenced non-government organisations, neutered Canberra’s mandarins, curtailed parliamentary scrutiny, censored the arts, banned books, criminalised protest and prosecuted whistleblowers."
This is just him warming up. There's a great essay here, and also really enjoyable, rhythmic writing. Just the thing to go with watching Deadwood.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Another Perspective
Riddle me this Batman....
Isn't hindsight great!?
It's not really a riddle is it? Here's the riddle - how can I access the clarity and wisdom of hindsight in the moment??
hmmmm.... trust me, if I figure that out, you can see my on my speaking tour of the universe!
So I'm home crook from work, tucked up nice and warm, looking back over a couple of rough weeks - which were so hard to move through day by day, and going "oh yeah - that would be when I started getting sick again!" There it is. Chronic conditions may take a holiday, but they never leave completely.
It's not enough that the horrid nausea and pains are back - but worse even is that I feel like I short-changed the lovely lovely Julian who drove all the way up to stay for a few days. I was so very worried he would get lost, or eaten by trolls, or squished by a semi. Thankfully, none of those things happened at all, and he arrived jubilantly - his normal cheerful and charming self. He won over the entire extended clan to his fanclub within 20 minutes of meeting any of them. It was great fun to tour him around the farm, and the area. He seemed honestly joyful, and it was a pleasure to share his interest. He had an amazing time before he got here - driving up from Sydney through the inland road, staying at Armidale, and after leaving us heading to Mount Tambourine (in the hinterland towards the Gold Coast) and hence to Coffs Harbour in northern NSW. I remember Coffs as being a totally top-town so I hope he's enjoying his time there. I am honoured that we were included in his itinerary, and grateful that he took my illness in his stride.
I HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT JULIAN BEAT ME FAIR AND SQUARE AT SCRABBLE.
He made some corkers over the triple-word stars let me tell you.
Just in case you've been wondering - no rain. NO RAIN. The one remaining bonsai receives ever more care. The jacaranda is hanging in with us (getting the odd bucket of grey water) but I've had a heart-searching session, and the fig bonsai has become a totem of hope at the moment. It is continuing to thrive through the winter, as I've moved it into the sunroom. I move it to the window ledge for the day (careful - they can be burnt by winter sun through glass) then away from the cold glass at night. Right now it's outside in the normal sun soaking in a bowl of icy tank water, feeling the wind on its bark. Yes, it gets more attention than I give my hair.
The six-month date of moving to the farm ticked by on June 20th. No biggie. (yeah right!) I still feel so homesick sometimes - but I know it's only for the very very goodest-things from before. I have forgotten the boring and icky bits quite easily. Really good friends are hard to replace. Invisible computer things help a lot, but they never make up for dinners and hugs. Well, love works in strange ways, and despite how blue and brown I've been lately, well, I still do trust that things will all work out.
Naive? Perhaps.
Isn't hindsight great!?
It's not really a riddle is it? Here's the riddle - how can I access the clarity and wisdom of hindsight in the moment??
hmmmm.... trust me, if I figure that out, you can see my on my speaking tour of the universe!
So I'm home crook from work, tucked up nice and warm, looking back over a couple of rough weeks - which were so hard to move through day by day, and going "oh yeah - that would be when I started getting sick again!" There it is. Chronic conditions may take a holiday, but they never leave completely.
It's not enough that the horrid nausea and pains are back - but worse even is that I feel like I short-changed the lovely lovely Julian who drove all the way up to stay for a few days. I was so very worried he would get lost, or eaten by trolls, or squished by a semi. Thankfully, none of those things happened at all, and he arrived jubilantly - his normal cheerful and charming self. He won over the entire extended clan to his fanclub within 20 minutes of meeting any of them. It was great fun to tour him around the farm, and the area. He seemed honestly joyful, and it was a pleasure to share his interest. He had an amazing time before he got here - driving up from Sydney through the inland road, staying at Armidale, and after leaving us heading to Mount Tambourine (in the hinterland towards the Gold Coast) and hence to Coffs Harbour in northern NSW. I remember Coffs as being a totally top-town so I hope he's enjoying his time there. I am honoured that we were included in his itinerary, and grateful that he took my illness in his stride.
I HEREBY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT JULIAN BEAT ME FAIR AND SQUARE AT SCRABBLE.
He made some corkers over the triple-word stars let me tell you.
Just in case you've been wondering - no rain. NO RAIN. The one remaining bonsai receives ever more care. The jacaranda is hanging in with us (getting the odd bucket of grey water) but I've had a heart-searching session, and the fig bonsai has become a totem of hope at the moment. It is continuing to thrive through the winter, as I've moved it into the sunroom. I move it to the window ledge for the day (careful - they can be burnt by winter sun through glass) then away from the cold glass at night. Right now it's outside in the normal sun soaking in a bowl of icy tank water, feeling the wind on its bark. Yes, it gets more attention than I give my hair.
The six-month date of moving to the farm ticked by on June 20th. No biggie. (yeah right!) I still feel so homesick sometimes - but I know it's only for the very very goodest-things from before. I have forgotten the boring and icky bits quite easily. Really good friends are hard to replace. Invisible computer things help a lot, but they never make up for dinners and hugs. Well, love works in strange ways, and despite how blue and brown I've been lately, well, I still do trust that things will all work out.
Naive? Perhaps.
Friday, July 06, 2007
One pill makes you larger...
I have to talk to you.
Right now I'm wound up so tight it's hurting. Nausea. Nothing's wrong - just a bout of mild mania. Too excited, too loud, too up, too too much altogether. If I can stay with it, it should all settle in an hour or so. Do you have this? What do you do with this jaggy time, this burstingness?
Icky Thump is on the player and I'll assemble the new desk gadget for holding pieces of paper.
Hilarious moment this morning - beat-up old Torana in 70s porn metallic bronze - complete with fluffy dice and roo-bar parked out front of the Trash City Council building. Hi-l-arious. Gotta snap of it for posterity.
Thanks for listening.
Right now I'm wound up so tight it's hurting. Nausea. Nothing's wrong - just a bout of mild mania. Too excited, too loud, too up, too too much altogether. If I can stay with it, it should all settle in an hour or so. Do you have this? What do you do with this jaggy time, this burstingness?
Icky Thump is on the player and I'll assemble the new desk gadget for holding pieces of paper.
Hilarious moment this morning - beat-up old Torana in 70s porn metallic bronze - complete with fluffy dice and roo-bar parked out front of the Trash City Council building. Hi-l-arious. Gotta snap of it for posterity.
Thanks for listening.
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
You Are in the RIGHT place
Re-arranged the furniture, that's all.
On a philosophical note - the title of this post makes for a "all our toasts are buttered" kind of futuristic-positivitistic slogan that I want to see on muscle shirts....
Do you think I can licence it to Blue Sun?
Embrace and Extend.
On a philosophical note - the title of this post makes for a "all our toasts are buttered" kind of futuristic-positivitistic slogan that I want to see on muscle shirts....
Do you think I can licence it to Blue Sun?
Embrace and Extend.
Birds & Bees
Animals are so great - really, so very great.
For example, today I learnt a lot more about bees.
I didn't realise that there were so many social elements to managing a bee hive. Nor that when a new queen starts out, there's a 3 hour orgy of sperm harvesting before she settles down for a lifetime of happy-hive making. Kewl!
Also, I made a clay owl today. A kinda 2d-3d owl. Not a sculpture, more a wall hanging. I may break the unwritten and arbitary rule about this blog not having pictures, just to share this little akimbo character with you. Craft about animals - life can be very very good!
For example, today I learnt a lot more about bees.
I didn't realise that there were so many social elements to managing a bee hive. Nor that when a new queen starts out, there's a 3 hour orgy of sperm harvesting before she settles down for a lifetime of happy-hive making. Kewl!
Also, I made a clay owl today. A kinda 2d-3d owl. Not a sculpture, more a wall hanging. I may break the unwritten and arbitary rule about this blog not having pictures, just to share this little akimbo character with you. Craft about animals - life can be very very good!
Brush with (in)Fame(y)
Argh!
I'm waddling down the street to lunch in penguin black with OTT ear-rings (bitta bling darh-ling - for hump day don't you know) and it's PAULINE HANSON heading up the pavement t'wards me. Sometimes it's so annoying being a redhead.
Damn.
Things you see when you don't have a decent immigration policy on you.
I'm waddling down the street to lunch in penguin black with OTT ear-rings (bitta bling darh-ling - for hump day don't you know) and it's PAULINE HANSON heading up the pavement t'wards me. Sometimes it's so annoying being a redhead.
Damn.
Things you see when you don't have a decent immigration policy on you.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Waiting in Ipswich
On my way to work this morning I was reflecting on the easy pace of life in regional Qld. Thongs. Warm winters (24 today!). School holidays. Low expectations. Shorts.
Walking up the mall, I noticed people waiting outside of the phone shop ... just waiting for it to open. Thursday - it's always the bank... pension day is an event here. I'm never here early enough - but apparently there's always folk waiting to get into the newsagents as well. Same thing at the Gallery all the time - people waiting for the doors to open at 10.
"Gotta get me another look at that d'Arcy Doyle."
Gagging to get in they are - particularly during the school holidays. That's a real measure of how much of "nothing else on" there is. No traffic to contend with - absolutely nothing else in your way. Get up and start the day. I'm not talking about queueing here - just waiting. Having a durrie. Watching the traffic. Sunning. Bogan Lizards.
I walked a different way this morning, and had to laugh. There's a clutch of kids waiting for "Netgames" to open and whiling away the time with a joint. How sweet youth is. Not a bad strategy either if I can step out of my "can't believe I have to go to work" jealousy of them - coz we all know that the police never walk up this way - they're concentrated one block back towards the station at the courthouse. I had to go past the courthouse too, and whaddya know - but there's the channel 9 news cameraman sitting and waiting. Both ends of the activity spectrum and consequences. There's a lot of waiting in this town. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting until you get moved along, waiting for the next payment. Waiting for some attention or interest. Maybe wondering if it'll be you who blows this time from the boredom.
Or you could be one of the button-ups waiting outside the library and circumventing the process with a different form of escapism. Go the nerd approach!
And then I stopped laughing and stopped looking at my phone for a moment because I realised that I am always waiting now too - for a new message to respond to, for someone to show me some attention, for something interesting to happen, because I cannot provide this for myself at the moment.
Is there something in the water here?
Goaded by this moment of clarity, I've bought another timer, so I can make the loud tick-tick noise at my desk that seems to be such a primal motivator for me to get things done. The tick-tick-tick that is unstoppable says to me "GO NOW!" even a single incandescent 5 minutes in this day turns it back into life and away from the numbness of waiting.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Walking up the mall, I noticed people waiting outside of the phone shop ... just waiting for it to open. Thursday - it's always the bank... pension day is an event here. I'm never here early enough - but apparently there's always folk waiting to get into the newsagents as well. Same thing at the Gallery all the time - people waiting for the doors to open at 10.
"Gotta get me another look at that d'Arcy Doyle."
Gagging to get in they are - particularly during the school holidays. That's a real measure of how much of "nothing else on" there is. No traffic to contend with - absolutely nothing else in your way. Get up and start the day. I'm not talking about queueing here - just waiting. Having a durrie. Watching the traffic. Sunning. Bogan Lizards.
I walked a different way this morning, and had to laugh. There's a clutch of kids waiting for "Netgames" to open and whiling away the time with a joint. How sweet youth is. Not a bad strategy either if I can step out of my "can't believe I have to go to work" jealousy of them - coz we all know that the police never walk up this way - they're concentrated one block back towards the station at the courthouse. I had to go past the courthouse too, and whaddya know - but there's the channel 9 news cameraman sitting and waiting. Both ends of the activity spectrum and consequences. There's a lot of waiting in this town. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting until you get moved along, waiting for the next payment. Waiting for some attention or interest. Maybe wondering if it'll be you who blows this time from the boredom.
Or you could be one of the button-ups waiting outside the library and circumventing the process with a different form of escapism. Go the nerd approach!
And then I stopped laughing and stopped looking at my phone for a moment because I realised that I am always waiting now too - for a new message to respond to, for someone to show me some attention, for something interesting to happen, because I cannot provide this for myself at the moment.
Is there something in the water here?
Goaded by this moment of clarity, I've bought another timer, so I can make the loud tick-tick noise at my desk that seems to be such a primal motivator for me to get things done. The tick-tick-tick that is unstoppable says to me "GO NOW!" even a single incandescent 5 minutes in this day turns it back into life and away from the numbness of waiting.
Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
What a week!
Little Zac the Eager Cat in a paroxysm of pleasure launched himself at the wood stove last night - perhaps expecting that if it was so very comfy right next to the fire - sitting atop it would be nirvana. Well the speed at which he approached his destination was nothing to how quickly he left it! Poor little one has burnt pads on his front paws, but the rear ones are fine - must have used the "Cats Only 9 Lives Propulsion Power" for the FTL exit.
Someone who wasn't so lucky was the cow who died in the dam. She's in the cow morgue awaiting identification. CSI preliminary report suggests she went down the steep embankment to brunch on the bull rushes and get a drink, lost her balance, slid in, and due to the steepness and sticky mud, couldn't climb free. Her cries for help unable to attract anyone with opposable thumbs, she drowned. No suspicious circumstances, just a tragedy. (I'm grateful that Dad didn't suffer the same fate trying to get her out. Some things ought not be attempted by a man alone with a tractor).
That she died one day or so before we had three solid days of rain just compounds the pain. Our neighbour has fenced off his dam for this reason, and we're thinking of doing so too now. What a horrible senseless way to die. I've never been able to reconcile myself to this part of farm life.
We have had some rain, and that's the good news. There's a tinge of green back in the landscape, and even the soft sound of it on the roof was a sensual pleasure. No frog calls yet - normally they'd be croaking up a storm, but there's just the rain and the sound of it falling into the tank. Where are you froggies? Please don't all be gone - please don't let that have come to pass.
Hump day. So very humpish today too. There's a chocolate coated cherry (or more if I don't share) waiting for me tonight to balm away the hours until the next attempt at being a citizen. I really am such a worthless bag of meat waddling around. I don't mean this in a bad way - just calling it how I see it. Perhaps the chocolate will help me recalibrate to a shinier, happier state. In the words of the great philosopher John Denver, "some days are diamonds, some days are stones".
Someone who wasn't so lucky was the cow who died in the dam. She's in the cow morgue awaiting identification. CSI preliminary report suggests she went down the steep embankment to brunch on the bull rushes and get a drink, lost her balance, slid in, and due to the steepness and sticky mud, couldn't climb free. Her cries for help unable to attract anyone with opposable thumbs, she drowned. No suspicious circumstances, just a tragedy. (I'm grateful that Dad didn't suffer the same fate trying to get her out. Some things ought not be attempted by a man alone with a tractor).
That she died one day or so before we had three solid days of rain just compounds the pain. Our neighbour has fenced off his dam for this reason, and we're thinking of doing so too now. What a horrible senseless way to die. I've never been able to reconcile myself to this part of farm life.
We have had some rain, and that's the good news. There's a tinge of green back in the landscape, and even the soft sound of it on the roof was a sensual pleasure. No frog calls yet - normally they'd be croaking up a storm, but there's just the rain and the sound of it falling into the tank. Where are you froggies? Please don't all be gone - please don't let that have come to pass.
Hump day. So very humpish today too. There's a chocolate coated cherry (or more if I don't share) waiting for me tonight to balm away the hours until the next attempt at being a citizen. I really am such a worthless bag of meat waddling around. I don't mean this in a bad way - just calling it how I see it. Perhaps the chocolate will help me recalibrate to a shinier, happier state. In the words of the great philosopher John Denver, "some days are diamonds, some days are stones".
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Dogs Bring People Together
Neil Gaiman blogged today about walking his dog:
You know, the best bit of having wound up with a dog, apart from the dog of course, is the walking. There are whole worlds out there I hadn't known about until I started walking them..."
and it reminded me of an incident from this morning. Sitting at my desk I could hear a dog howling and out the window there are these two beautiful hounds, wrapped around a pole with a bit of baling twine in the cold. Shivering and howling. Well what could I do but go out there to comfort them and see if I could possibly see who would leave them stranded like this (my window looks out onto the main street of the town).
Head sideways out from the door of the postoffice a straggly man watches me.
"Hey! These your dogs?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna be real long?"
"Nah" he walks towards me and he's dirt poor this guy, and nervous looking. "I'm looking for a stanthorpe phone book." (this is like saying - I'm hoping all my needs in the world are handed to me wrapped in silk)
"oh yeah, you findin one?"
"Nah".
"Right... you need a phone number?"
"Yeah."
"Well these dogs can't stay in the cold, I can look 'em up for you."
Eventually he comes in and perches on my visitor chair and we plug a few names into the whitepages online. He asks me how to spell Michelle. Lots of the people have the same surname.
"Plenty of these Clancy people."
"Yeah, we're a family of ten."
"Try Sonya" he says.
"S. Clancey," I type "where does she live?"
"Sydney" he says so I enter NSW
"Which Suburb?"
He looks right at me and just says "Sydney"
"It's a real big town" I say, "you're gonna need a suburb." But he doesn't know.
Here we are : I help him so his dogs aren't cold, and he's trying to find the phone numbers of some of his brothers and sisters whose names he can't spell for certain and who live god only knows where. He got 5 or 6 tho, and went on his way, and I'm still not sure that he was glad for the help for the truth it cost us both.
By the way Neil - congratulations on picking up the Locus awards for best short story & best collection. You so rock. And you have a cool dog.
You know, the best bit of having wound up with a dog, apart from the dog of course, is the walking. There are whole worlds out there I hadn't known about until I started walking them..."
and it reminded me of an incident from this morning. Sitting at my desk I could hear a dog howling and out the window there are these two beautiful hounds, wrapped around a pole with a bit of baling twine in the cold. Shivering and howling. Well what could I do but go out there to comfort them and see if I could possibly see who would leave them stranded like this (my window looks out onto the main street of the town).
Head sideways out from the door of the postoffice a straggly man watches me.
"Hey! These your dogs?"
"Yeah."
"You gonna be real long?"
"Nah" he walks towards me and he's dirt poor this guy, and nervous looking. "I'm looking for a stanthorpe phone book." (this is like saying - I'm hoping all my needs in the world are handed to me wrapped in silk)
"oh yeah, you findin one?"
"Nah".
"Right... you need a phone number?"
"Yeah."
"Well these dogs can't stay in the cold, I can look 'em up for you."
Eventually he comes in and perches on my visitor chair and we plug a few names into the whitepages online. He asks me how to spell Michelle. Lots of the people have the same surname.
"Plenty of these Clancy people."
"Yeah, we're a family of ten."
"Try Sonya" he says.
"S. Clancey," I type "where does she live?"
"Sydney" he says so I enter NSW
"Which Suburb?"
He looks right at me and just says "Sydney"
"It's a real big town" I say, "you're gonna need a suburb." But he doesn't know.
Here we are : I help him so his dogs aren't cold, and he's trying to find the phone numbers of some of his brothers and sisters whose names he can't spell for certain and who live god only knows where. He got 5 or 6 tho, and went on his way, and I'm still not sure that he was glad for the help for the truth it cost us both.
By the way Neil - congratulations on picking up the Locus awards for best short story & best collection. You so rock. And you have a cool dog.
Windy Whistling Weather
The wyrd wefer from down south has made its way to us i fink.
the wind winds around the windows and wails at being locked out tonight.
Words.
I'm doing quite a lot of words these days. Actually I love this, but I am very much "paying my dues", it's not the glamour end of town I can tell you.
Example: 3 different 100 word blurbs on the same thing. None quite right, but no actual content related problem feedback. No worries say I, I'll do them again tomorrow. Also on the list - 300 word blurb on same topic. Last week? 3 different blurbs on a different same topic. Press release, radio ad scripts and a fluff "lifestyle" piece that gets described as "editorial" (? I always thought editorial was written by editors - not advertisers). I do enjoy the challenge of writing with a different voice and pace - or at least trying to. It has shown me some of my habits and I'm sure that's just the beginning of the craft lessons I am going to face.
Then there's that website that needs restructuring, and loads of re-writing. A project I welcomed, but between you and I looms as hungry and as demanding as a white elephant. Every step towards or away from it is now fraught with possible political implications - let alone finding the right voice for the thing. A girl needs a hobby on these long nights.
the wind winds around the windows and wails at being locked out tonight.
Words.
I'm doing quite a lot of words these days. Actually I love this, but I am very much "paying my dues", it's not the glamour end of town I can tell you.
Example: 3 different 100 word blurbs on the same thing. None quite right, but no actual content related problem feedback. No worries say I, I'll do them again tomorrow. Also on the list - 300 word blurb on same topic. Last week? 3 different blurbs on a different same topic. Press release, radio ad scripts and a fluff "lifestyle" piece that gets described as "editorial" (? I always thought editorial was written by editors - not advertisers). I do enjoy the challenge of writing with a different voice and pace - or at least trying to. It has shown me some of my habits and I'm sure that's just the beginning of the craft lessons I am going to face.
Then there's that website that needs restructuring, and loads of re-writing. A project I welcomed, but between you and I looms as hungry and as demanding as a white elephant. Every step towards or away from it is now fraught with possible political implications - let alone finding the right voice for the thing. A girl needs a hobby on these long nights.
Monday, June 18, 2007
James007
Over eight months ago, a *friend* signed me up to passionet and insisted that I populate my profile, which I did end up doing under duress. When you don't set up your own username, it's way easy to forget, as I'm sure any reader can sympathise with. Hey, I don't use a login for a week I may be stuffed. Eight months has got to be some kind of record, really, for a free account remaining active.
So tonight I get this message:
>"Hi 'red'
>You have an admirer!
>'007james' has sent you a Cupid Arrow.
>He wants us to let you know that he has read your profile and believes you could have fun >together."
How cruel is life!? Daniel Craig finally decides to get in touch and I've been caught out with a daft username and no fracking idea what my password is.
So tonight I get this message:
>"Hi 'red'
>You have an admirer!
>'007james' has sent you a Cupid Arrow.
>He wants us to let you know that he has read your profile and believes you could have fun >together."
How cruel is life!? Daniel Craig finally decides to get in touch and I've been caught out with a daft username and no fracking idea what my password is.
Honeymoon is Over
Hi,
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
I'm back from the Honeymoon. I really thought it would last longer - maybe even a whole month - but looks like I'm too old now to stay starry-eyed for long. Not that things have taken a bad, downward turn, just that there's hope, and then there's reality. I find it easier to deal with the reality and push it forcibly(*) towards the memory of hope, rather than get knocked about and continually hurt that the hope isn't being fulfilled.
It has also been somewhat sobering to realise that one of the main skills I have learnt in my working life is how to survive in a Machiavellian environment. Hence the * above - because of course one chooses very carefully those barrows one will push, and where. I don't mean to intimate that I am a Machiavellian player/operator/sympathiser - rather that I learnt early on to *know*thy*enemy* and strangely enough their textbook is widely available. Go on - read The Prince. You can get it in bookstores, you can download it from the internet. I can't believe it's just laying around in libraries. It makes it a lot easier to spot the dilettantes, and stay out of the way of the real players.
Anyway, enough pillow talk.
How have you been?
What have you been up to?
I was going to make June "Good News" month - loads of feel-good updates from the world of grown-ups and corduroy where science and art and music and culture all contribute to making the human race seem like a good idea. It got to the 15th and I hadn't found any, and now I've kinda shelved that idea for the time being. Even just reading the Arts pages can bring me down - on only one day last week David Hockney had a hissy over *ipods* ruining the visual arts, a painting got nicked from the AGNSW!, and Brett Whiteley's drug addled eroticised landscape of the Olgas became the most expensive Australian painting - selling at auction for $3.8m.
Clearly, the world has gone mad and is in no need of my help on this matter.
I did what any self-respecting bogan looser would do, and blew $4 of the grocery money in the op-shop on a VHS copy of Ronin. And it was good. Yes, I escaped into a world where violence and the destruction of beautiful eurpoean cafes is only used to heighten dramatic tension. A world where the deadliest killers (who will shoot a little girl just to prove the point that they're meanies) really are the horrible ex-kgb, and anyone who says they're ex-CIA is really only in deep cover. It all made such good sense for about an hour and a half.
Where did I leave that case of ammo?...
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Long Cold Nights
It got to -2 degrees C last night.
No wonder I woke up with a jumper wrapped around my head. Once the sun comes out it very quickly gets to a cheerful 20 or so (24 we're expecting today.... again). That's the upside to a drought - no real concern about cloud cover, getting caught without an umbrella, or having to mow the lawn on the weekend.
Yes, we are still in a drought here, despite our cousin int he south getting utterly hammered by the wetter parts of nature last week. We didn't even get a heavy dew.
Next week is going to be Winter Solstice. I've been feeling a bit down because all the people I want to invite to the feast are a long, long way away. Well, it's me who moved, but as the centre of my own universe that re-calibrates everyone else. Sorry kids.
Anyold how, I had just assumed that I wouldn't go ahead and have a feast this year because of that, but in the spirit of "bloom where you're planted" fuck it - I'm gonna do it! Yeah! Mulled wine and roast up some pumpkin here we go!
Table for one madame?
Yes, certainly.
I invite everyone to do what they can to celebrate Winter Solstice on the 21st - the longest night of the year. Or summer, for those of you who insist on being in the northern hemisphere.
No wonder I woke up with a jumper wrapped around my head. Once the sun comes out it very quickly gets to a cheerful 20 or so (24 we're expecting today.... again). That's the upside to a drought - no real concern about cloud cover, getting caught without an umbrella, or having to mow the lawn on the weekend.
Yes, we are still in a drought here, despite our cousin int he south getting utterly hammered by the wetter parts of nature last week. We didn't even get a heavy dew.
Next week is going to be Winter Solstice. I've been feeling a bit down because all the people I want to invite to the feast are a long, long way away. Well, it's me who moved, but as the centre of my own universe that re-calibrates everyone else. Sorry kids.
Anyold how, I had just assumed that I wouldn't go ahead and have a feast this year because of that, but in the spirit of "bloom where you're planted" fuck it - I'm gonna do it! Yeah! Mulled wine and roast up some pumpkin here we go!
Table for one madame?
Yes, certainly.
I invite everyone to do what they can to celebrate Winter Solstice on the 21st - the longest night of the year. Or summer, for those of you who insist on being in the northern hemisphere.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Over the Hump and Far Away
Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a princess. She wasn't a particularly beautiful or clever princess, nor was she enchanted or musical. She was a normal princess, and as such, never expected to get her own story.
But everyone gets a story, even if it turns out to be a dull one.
But everyone gets a story, even if it turns out to be a dull one.
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Monday Flex
Gosh - I honestly thought that the flex day was a thing of the golden past until I came to Qld and got a job at theTrash City Sheltered Workshop. Here I am, Monday, not at work and *getting*paid*. LIFESTYLE!
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
So what did I do with this amazing gift? I had a list. Of course there was a list. There was a plan. There was going to be some serious preparation for being totally amazing tomorrow in my new job. There was to be some physical exercise, and then some creative output. What a great plan!
I slept. I ate. I went back to sleep.
Brilliant. Much better than my plan.
I'm feeling energised and chilled.
That's the cool thing about sleeping. The cortex is freaking out, going, THERE'S A LIST WE HAVE TO DO - meanwhile all the other systems are into it - "Oh yeah, some downtime, let's change that worn fuse, and re-lube the frustration valves."
My brain, for a clever thing, can be really dumb sometimes.
Upon waking, I ate some more, took a walk, started my painting, cooked a curry, made pizza for dinner, fed all the animals and was able to enjoy watching a bit of the tube with ma & pa in a fairly mellow state.
Looking back on the list and the plan from the other side of dinner, I can tell you that the sleeping was the better option. And isn't that so often the way?
The tube was on the ABC, and we caught the last 15 minutes of Peter Singer. Here's the transcript. Reading Peter Singer a dozen years back was a particularly useful thing to do - and I can recommend him widely, recommend him broadly: to anyone interested in thinking about the world they consume and participate in really.
Here's the opening of the interview:
PETER THOMPSON: A journalist once said you were "a man with plastic shoes and ironclad principles". How do you live out, in practical terms, what you believe in?
PETER SINGER: Well, I suppose you try to live in such a way that you're having the least harmful impact on others, that is, on other people, on other sentient beings, animals, and on the planet and, where possible, you go beyond that and you actually try and make things better, you actually try and help others who need it.
PETER THOMPSON: When it comes down to choices, what does that mean for the way you live, your personal way of life?
PETER SINGER: Well, for example, I am a vegetarian. I do wear...I'm wearing canvas shoes rather than plastic. But I try and avoid animal products, 'cause I think the animal industry, factory farming in particular, is an enormous source of unnecessary pain and suffering to animals, plus is not great for the planet either. I try and share some of the good fortune that I have financially with some of the world's poorest people by donating through organisations like Oxfam. And generally, I try and think about what I'm doing. I reflect on what I'm doing and try and work out what the consequences of what I'm doing are likely to be.
Although this show is so skin-crawlingly middle-brow that it's almost impossible to watch, I've found that the transcripts are excellent - cause the guests are often brilliant people, and it's easier to skip over the questions (and you don't have to watch the presenter push so hard to look interested that he nearly bursts his chinos). Plus, they do cool things, like include Peter Singer's recipe for Dahl (which he first published in 1975 in his "Animal Liberation" book to try and give the readers an idea of what one might eat if one wasn't eating beef).
PETER SINGER'S DAL RECIPE
INGREDIENTS:
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves garlic (crushed/chopped)
1 medium onion (diced)
1- 2 tablespoons curry powder, to taste
Salt, to taste
1 cup small red lentils
3 cups water
2-3 bay leaves, to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 tin tomatoes, (chopped)
1/4 cup coconut milk
2 tablespoons lemon juice
METHOD:
In a large saucepan, saute garlic til fragrant.
Add onions and cook until they begin to soften.
Add curry powder and salt, to taste, and cook over medium heat til mixture begins to brown.
Add lentils and stir for a minute or so before adding water, the bay leaves and cinnamon stick.
Bring to boil, then turn heat down very low and simmer for 20minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add chopped tomatoes, and simmer a further 10minutes, until thick.
The lentils should be soft and the consistency just liquid enough to pour.
Add cocount milk and lemon juice.
Stir through, and remove from heat.
Serve over rice with lime pickle and mango chutney.
Friday, May 25, 2007
Duck!
On the staff Intranet today:
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Give Away - Appleyard Duck
Young duck , should be at point of lay soon. Nothing wrong with her, just a nuisance getting into the fowl pens and eating their food.
Contact: Ross
Extension 7754
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Small Children - Sometimes Funny!
One of the new people at work has a child who is 6. She sounds super-cute. Apart from the dermatitis and vomiting.
Anyway, she was apparently trying to describe skin-tone colour, and in reaching for the word "flesh" came out with "fladge".
Fladge.
That's genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
Anyway, she was apparently trying to describe skin-tone colour, and in reaching for the word "flesh" came out with "fladge".
Fladge.
That's genius. I wish I'd thought of that.
Farewell Sheltered Workshop
The penultimate day in the Sheltered Workshop went by pretty quickly - what with the packing and the gossiping, and the bludging.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
They have a new temp starting tomorrow, and we've got fabulously simple, dull work lined up - packing the wagon for the event on saturday, folding labelling and stuffing 300 invitations. Woo! I've got a long weekend, and then my new job (with 65% actual work!) starting on Tuesday. We may have to confirm that percentage - but that's the impression. It would be higher, but there's already too many meetings planned for that. We'll see.
Not a day too soon either. Sick of driving. Sick of the TCSW inmates' whine and whinge. Sick of the same people having the same conversations. 3 months, 3 weeks and 2 days I lasted - what an achievement! *and* - no casulaties! I'll be leaving with all bridges intact. It's amazing what one can tolerate really.
I thought that Trash City may have yielded all its pleasures to me already - but I was wrong. Tonight I did my grocery shopping in my slippers. Slippers!! Faux uggies from Big Dub. Out and Proud. Fuck it.
That's how it starts.
I'm in Yamanto - forget it. I still look good.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of "Trojan Moments" getting published, and the Shindig at Kinokuniya to launch it. My, how time can really get along.
Quote of the Day
"The use of intellectual rigor for the purpose of increasing fear, sorrow, or doubt is the greatest
cowardice of all."
Karen Pino
cowardice of all."
Karen Pino
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ringing Research
My head was ringing all day, and on the way home I listened just to the noises of the car, the highway, the endless passing vehicles. I got passed by a pig yesterday. Sitting on 100 he accelerated past me and gave me the filthy look from hell. What?! Was my petticoat showing? Had I offended his pale pink sensibilities with my dirty back window? I don't know. But it did give Carte Blanche to all other vehicles on the road and I watched them move off into the distance in their illegal 115klm/hr caravan of speed. I just wanted some time alone.
Ringing in the head is unnerving. Sometimes it's in the ears - that's also not great. In the head is crazy land though. Is that just a kind of headache?
Oh - I just asked Wiki - and it reckons I have Tinnitus. Which it appears is largely subjective. In a few cases, it is objective and the person's ears actually emit sound. Full On! As it doesn't interfere with me falling asleep, it isn't severe. It's just that in Battle Star Galactica, they include the ship's hum as part of the soundtrack - and Firefly (tho not as much) and it's a big part of being immersed in those worlds - escaping into DVDs at night - is the soundscape.
That's hard to grasp - how integral sound is. There's no natural environment without it - except space. Sound can't travel in a vacuum. As a writer, it's something that gets largely left up to the reader - trying to do more than hint at the soundscape can really distract more than add to the mood. Sound is so much a part of everything to us, that it has effectively become invisible until it's not there. That's why those old BBC productions of novels are so hard to bear - too quiet. Only the dialogue. Creepy.
Sound. I crave quiet and my own head brings with it these noises - ringing, clicking and cracking, ticking, blood. So if you see me laying on the bed in the dark - I'm not being lazy (necessarily) I'm researching sound. Same goes for watching BSG or Firefly. That's my excuse for this week, and I'm sticking to it.
Ringing in the head is unnerving. Sometimes it's in the ears - that's also not great. In the head is crazy land though. Is that just a kind of headache?
Oh - I just asked Wiki - and it reckons I have Tinnitus. Which it appears is largely subjective. In a few cases, it is objective and the person's ears actually emit sound. Full On! As it doesn't interfere with me falling asleep, it isn't severe. It's just that in Battle Star Galactica, they include the ship's hum as part of the soundtrack - and Firefly (tho not as much) and it's a big part of being immersed in those worlds - escaping into DVDs at night - is the soundscape.
That's hard to grasp - how integral sound is. There's no natural environment without it - except space. Sound can't travel in a vacuum. As a writer, it's something that gets largely left up to the reader - trying to do more than hint at the soundscape can really distract more than add to the mood. Sound is so much a part of everything to us, that it has effectively become invisible until it's not there. That's why those old BBC productions of novels are so hard to bear - too quiet. Only the dialogue. Creepy.
Sound. I crave quiet and my own head brings with it these noises - ringing, clicking and cracking, ticking, blood. So if you see me laying on the bed in the dark - I'm not being lazy (necessarily) I'm researching sound. Same goes for watching BSG or Firefly. That's my excuse for this week, and I'm sticking to it.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Visitation
Glory glory!
To an utterly gorgeous late-morning I stumbled out of the bedroom and realised I don't need to drive anywhere today. Relief - such relief. There's couch time, there's laundy hanging out time, and there's the promise of visitors. Visitors - for me!!
It's important when one lives a long-way-away not to get too caught up on the idea that anyone will ever actually get here, despite all the good intentions. Going into the country for city folk (particularly city folk from interstate) is akin to writing a will. Honestly, it's a good idea, and probably worthwhile, but it takes too long, and no-one ever really gets around to it unless there's a direct and urgent need. Hey, don't get me wrong, it's a frackin long way. Total kudos to Mellie and Tom who both made it to visit me at work during April. That was awesome and I was astonished at how badly I wanted to show Mellie my desk, and think of interesting things to tell Tom about Trash City. So today, with the promise of a visitation, I didn't get too worked up, so I wouldn't be dissappointed when it got called off (freak cyclone? Flat tyre? Heart Attack? Sure, I understand). You know, *anything* can happen - and sometimes does. I was so cool, so understated, the only thing I did was get the butter out of the fridge at lunch time so it would get soft in an hour or so, because I would make scones *anyway*.
So when Lee & Andy arrived - I could have popped a gasket I was so excited! They made it!!! They had come from Petersham and now were in Frazerview. AWESOME!! I wanted to tell them everything about everything all at once. "And this is a tree, but my dad hit it with a tractor a few years back, and that's why it's wonky, and this other tree is younger, but it's grown bigger, and that's the house - where we live - and this is the fence and the paddock, and those cows, well they aren't cows, they're the yearlings and mostly they're steers now, and, and, and..." my brain could *not* get a word into my mouth for a while there. But they were good, and we walked up to the olives and walking is always calming in these situations. How brilliant it is to have beloved friends to show somehting to, and through their eyes see everything all over again. Mum and Dad love to talk about the farm and afternoon tea (yes, Scones with lashings of cream and jam) was great fun. We watched the sun set from the back hill, and waited for a wallaby to move off the track on the way back down.
They had to go - of course - evening meal beckoned. Mum had brought more meat in case we could tempt them to stay for dinner, but they have a lot of people to see over the weekend. So they drove off into the twilight, we fed the animals and closed the house back up for the evening. Mum and Dad are watching "Gardening Australia" on the tube and after I hit the button here, I'm going to walk out into the dark yard and stare up at the sky's opulent stars and imagine all my friends standing together and looking up as well. I'm going to feel the cool air moving through the little hairs on my arms and over my skin, hear the telly in the background, smell the warm ground letting out a breath into the evening and feel all around me the energy of the greater life in the world and the special energy that seems like strings. Stringy stretchy love that reaches so far so easily - possibly through the stars- and keeps friendships alive.
To an utterly gorgeous late-morning I stumbled out of the bedroom and realised I don't need to drive anywhere today. Relief - such relief. There's couch time, there's laundy hanging out time, and there's the promise of visitors. Visitors - for me!!
It's important when one lives a long-way-away not to get too caught up on the idea that anyone will ever actually get here, despite all the good intentions. Going into the country for city folk (particularly city folk from interstate) is akin to writing a will. Honestly, it's a good idea, and probably worthwhile, but it takes too long, and no-one ever really gets around to it unless there's a direct and urgent need. Hey, don't get me wrong, it's a frackin long way. Total kudos to Mellie and Tom who both made it to visit me at work during April. That was awesome and I was astonished at how badly I wanted to show Mellie my desk, and think of interesting things to tell Tom about Trash City. So today, with the promise of a visitation, I didn't get too worked up, so I wouldn't be dissappointed when it got called off (freak cyclone? Flat tyre? Heart Attack? Sure, I understand). You know, *anything* can happen - and sometimes does. I was so cool, so understated, the only thing I did was get the butter out of the fridge at lunch time so it would get soft in an hour or so, because I would make scones *anyway*.
So when Lee & Andy arrived - I could have popped a gasket I was so excited! They made it!!! They had come from Petersham and now were in Frazerview. AWESOME!! I wanted to tell them everything about everything all at once. "And this is a tree, but my dad hit it with a tractor a few years back, and that's why it's wonky, and this other tree is younger, but it's grown bigger, and that's the house - where we live - and this is the fence and the paddock, and those cows, well they aren't cows, they're the yearlings and mostly they're steers now, and, and, and..." my brain could *not* get a word into my mouth for a while there. But they were good, and we walked up to the olives and walking is always calming in these situations. How brilliant it is to have beloved friends to show somehting to, and through their eyes see everything all over again. Mum and Dad love to talk about the farm and afternoon tea (yes, Scones with lashings of cream and jam) was great fun. We watched the sun set from the back hill, and waited for a wallaby to move off the track on the way back down.
They had to go - of course - evening meal beckoned. Mum had brought more meat in case we could tempt them to stay for dinner, but they have a lot of people to see over the weekend. So they drove off into the twilight, we fed the animals and closed the house back up for the evening. Mum and Dad are watching "Gardening Australia" on the tube and after I hit the button here, I'm going to walk out into the dark yard and stare up at the sky's opulent stars and imagine all my friends standing together and looking up as well. I'm going to feel the cool air moving through the little hairs on my arms and over my skin, hear the telly in the background, smell the warm ground letting out a breath into the evening and feel all around me the energy of the greater life in the world and the special energy that seems like strings. Stringy stretchy love that reaches so far so easily - possibly through the stars- and keeps friendships alive.
Friday, May 18, 2007
I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker
Something about travelling gives one a sense of freedom.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.
It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.
Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.
Starting in a new town can be like that too – completely anonymous. No expectations – internal or external. No habits about what or who belongs where, or what should happen when. It’s almost addictive, if it didn’t come at the cost of some pretty nice feelings – belonging with friends, warm cosy home feelings, clean laundry.
Anyway. One of the things about being an outsider is how different everything looks - it's possible to really *see* things. In my first few weeks as a temp in the TCSW, I got to go to a lot of minor events where I could just stare slack-jawed at the world around me. One of the things that caught my eye was a (presumably) innocent man called Steve Hutton. He's the general manager at the local paper and as such gets invited to a large number of meetings, launches, receptions, discussions, and openings. He's a good looking man - a little taller than I am with dark hair, well-formed brows, and a charming smile. In other words - easy on the eyes. In this town that is a standout feature.
Being a minion, I usually have nothing else to do, but to find a vantage point where I can be simultaneously called upon by my boss at any time, and comfortably stare at Steve Hutton. After a few months, he has started to notice that I do this. As a continuation of my anthropological experiment, I have decided not to stop. Frankly, I'm amazed I got away with it for so long. Very 'Fight Club' if you take my meaning.
It's great to have a hobby.
It really is very minimal stalking - I haven't ever gone to his workplace, taken surveillance photos, found out his wife's name - none of the basic things. It is piss-weak stalking I know - but I just keep hearing Edward Norton's voice saying "I am Steve Hutton’s Stalker" and it makes me laugh. You know, why get all bent out of shape about Brad Pitt (or Angelina) when there's perfectly good-looking people who are a lot more accessible to watch? I'll never get to meet Brangelina in person, but I can offer Steve Hutton a badly cooked entree every other week.
Let's hope he's got as a good a sense of humour as I have imagined that he has. Otherwise, I'll have to find out if blogging constitutes a breach of a restraining order.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Lost in Redbank
Stupid roads. Stupid signs.
Exploring somewhere new is probably not done best in the dark, when one is hungry, and need to pee.
Hurtling down the highway the turn-offs seem to loom rather quickly and there's little time to evaluate if it's the right one (how can there be so many turn offs so far apart for the same places?) and wham! you turn and drive, and 20 minutes later when you nearly hit a knagaroo on a deserted, unlit backroad, you realise this probably isn't the way to the big shopping centre. Turnaround and another 20 minutes, then the next exit, still not the right one. An hour it took. AN HOUR.
Embarrassing? Yes.
Want to know what's humiliating? I got lost on the way back too.
The shops weren't even that good either. What a wash-out.
Exploring somewhere new is probably not done best in the dark, when one is hungry, and need to pee.
Hurtling down the highway the turn-offs seem to loom rather quickly and there's little time to evaluate if it's the right one (how can there be so many turn offs so far apart for the same places?) and wham! you turn and drive, and 20 minutes later when you nearly hit a knagaroo on a deserted, unlit backroad, you realise this probably isn't the way to the big shopping centre. Turnaround and another 20 minutes, then the next exit, still not the right one. An hour it took. AN HOUR.
Embarrassing? Yes.
Want to know what's humiliating? I got lost on the way back too.
The shops weren't even that good either. What a wash-out.
Get Up start ramping up
That fabulous organ of democracy - GetUp - are in pre-election mode.
Unlike most politicians, this means that they are canvassing people like you and I for our opinions and concerns.
Radical huh?
They are currently surveying their members and asking all kinds of intrusive and offensive questions like:
"Why do you think this election is important?"
(I'm paraphrasing) and they let you write as much as you like! Most of the rest of it is ticking boxes, so I thought I would share with you what came to me as I thought about that question. Coz it's a good question. I know a lot of people don't care about politics, but our world really is run on it (or fucked -up by it) whichever way you look at it, better to yell and throw a rock to get the bus to swerve this time.
C'mon - go have a look at their site! They don't expoect you to agree with everything, but give it a crack.
http://www.getup.org.au
So here's my rant:
"This is a pivotal time to make a difference in how we survive climate change. Howard's policitical maneuvering to keep all ecological issues sidelined has undermined our economy because the economy is based on a presumption of ecological stability and safety. Australia is geologically and ecologically vulnerable to the effects of climate change and we cannot go on under a leader to refuses to act in our greater interests.
Secondly, the shame of the Tampa, of our woeful track-record in the health and well being of our Aboriginal peoples, of our neglect for David Hicks, of our disregard as a country for those who have been abused, ill-treated and those who seek refuge has reached tipping-point. Once again, our country is looking for heartfelt leadership and compassion. No-one in this country wants prosperity at the cost of human kindness. The Howard Government has hidden behind this rhetoric for long enough, and must be called to account for the actions they took on our behalf.
Thirdly, our nation is caught in a short-sighted boom based on non-renewable resources. Where is the investment in the sciences and skills of the future? What do we have to offer China after all our ore is gone?
Fourthly, Fifthly and Sixthly, the mining of uranium, the wastage of water to corporations (and industries) and the increasing privitisation of our public services are all eroding our integrity and identity as a nation and as a caretaker for the future.
Finally, and seventhly, the creeping "churchification" (mostly via rhetoric I admit) of our governing bodies really pisses me off. We are a secular nation - all the better to embrace the peoples from many cultures and backrounds that make us up. This is enshrined in our constitution (section 116 I think from memory) and it specifically prohibits religious intrusions into state (secular) activites - for example Citizenship Ceremonies. Just as politicians ought to be scrupulous about declaring their share holdings, filing their original receipts for expense claims, so they ought keep their own staunch belief in an imaginary friend out of representational politics.
Thanks for listening."
Unlike most politicians, this means that they are canvassing people like you and I for our opinions and concerns.
Radical huh?
They are currently surveying their members and asking all kinds of intrusive and offensive questions like:
"Why do you think this election is important?"
(I'm paraphrasing) and they let you write as much as you like! Most of the rest of it is ticking boxes, so I thought I would share with you what came to me as I thought about that question. Coz it's a good question. I know a lot of people don't care about politics, but our world really is run on it (or fucked -up by it) whichever way you look at it, better to yell and throw a rock to get the bus to swerve this time.
C'mon - go have a look at their site! They don't expoect you to agree with everything, but give it a crack.
http://www.getup.org.au
So here's my rant:
"This is a pivotal time to make a difference in how we survive climate change. Howard's policitical maneuvering to keep all ecological issues sidelined has undermined our economy because the economy is based on a presumption of ecological stability and safety. Australia is geologically and ecologically vulnerable to the effects of climate change and we cannot go on under a leader to refuses to act in our greater interests.
Secondly, the shame of the Tampa, of our woeful track-record in the health and well being of our Aboriginal peoples, of our neglect for David Hicks, of our disregard as a country for those who have been abused, ill-treated and those who seek refuge has reached tipping-point. Once again, our country is looking for heartfelt leadership and compassion. No-one in this country wants prosperity at the cost of human kindness. The Howard Government has hidden behind this rhetoric for long enough, and must be called to account for the actions they took on our behalf.
Thirdly, our nation is caught in a short-sighted boom based on non-renewable resources. Where is the investment in the sciences and skills of the future? What do we have to offer China after all our ore is gone?
Fourthly, Fifthly and Sixthly, the mining of uranium, the wastage of water to corporations (and industries) and the increasing privitisation of our public services are all eroding our integrity and identity as a nation and as a caretaker for the future.
Finally, and seventhly, the creeping "churchification" (mostly via rhetoric I admit) of our governing bodies really pisses me off. We are a secular nation - all the better to embrace the peoples from many cultures and backrounds that make us up. This is enshrined in our constitution (section 116 I think from memory) and it specifically prohibits religious intrusions into state (secular) activites - for example Citizenship Ceremonies. Just as politicians ought to be scrupulous about declaring their share holdings, filing their original receipts for expense claims, so they ought keep their own staunch belief in an imaginary friend out of representational politics.
Thanks for listening."
Gandalf Pig Dream
Last night I dreamt about pigs. Clever, talking pigs and Gandalf. There was some kind of pig quest, and dark foresty bits where good pigs wouldn't go.
There were mean pigs but hope too - the hope for a better future and fresh hay kept us all going.
I'm not sure what Gandalf had to do with anything, I think he was running a Wizards Master Class for some other pigs and just got swept up in events.
There were mean pigs but hope too - the hope for a better future and fresh hay kept us all going.
I'm not sure what Gandalf had to do with anything, I think he was running a Wizards Master Class for some other pigs and just got swept up in events.
SHAOLIN SHOALHAVEN!
Wow!
I am too excited to type properly!
Exclamation marksss!!!
I've just read in the paper that the Shaolin Temple are pretty seriously looking at building a temple at Jervis Bay. Here, in Australia!! A Shaolin Temple!! HERE!!
OH MY BUDDHA!
Of Course, being the forward thinkers that they are, they plan to update the layout a bit - including a 1500-seat exhibition hall, golf course, hotel and 800 residential lots.
Genius.
That's going to put the Aikido and TaiKwonDo crowds on the unbalanced back foot. Yeah. It seems the NSW govt is keen and supportive (der!) the only complaints so far has been from some local christians (der!).
I think this is an awesome move, and possibly could be a way to get Jackie Chan to spend more time in our country. Beats the panty-waist options like Martha Spewart Homes - where you move into a suburb she has total design control over. I'd rather do kata before breakfast thanks!
I am too excited to type properly!
Exclamation marksss!!!
I've just read in the paper that the Shaolin Temple are pretty seriously looking at building a temple at Jervis Bay. Here, in Australia!! A Shaolin Temple!! HERE!!
OH MY BUDDHA!
Of Course, being the forward thinkers that they are, they plan to update the layout a bit - including a 1500-seat exhibition hall, golf course, hotel and 800 residential lots.
Genius.
That's going to put the Aikido and TaiKwonDo crowds on the unbalanced back foot. Yeah. It seems the NSW govt is keen and supportive (der!) the only complaints so far has been from some local christians (der!).
I think this is an awesome move, and possibly could be a way to get Jackie Chan to spend more time in our country. Beats the panty-waist options like Martha Spewart Homes - where you move into a suburb she has total design control over. I'd rather do kata before breakfast thanks!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Not That Much of Any One Thing
I've been tumbling one or two words around in my mental spinner and rather than getting polished, they got kinda dry and withered. So that stuffed that post idea.
Yesterday was a big day - a lot busier at work than I had hoped for and weird oversized taffic on the road (the ARMY was on the move in oversize Aliens-inspired things that I can only guess were APCs) then late at night huge trucks all with the weird super-yellow flashing lights and OVERSIZE oversize signs. One had a yaht with a keel as high as the mast (heading inland!) and of course the invasion of the watertanks proceeds apace and half a house (not as unusual as it sounds). It's in the car when I see things like this, or hear something on the radio that clashes well against something in my head that I most miss having the linked, clever tools i now associate the keyboard with (god, remember the grim days when you used to have to know what a modem was?).
I did have a notebook in the car up until recently and would scribble things as I could grab them. After one day a car passed me with the whole load of the passengers utterly loosing it watching me driving and writing I did have a minor re-think. Audrey has a much differently shaped steering wheel than the road monster - it was kinda bench-like but the drawback was that I would be beeping the horn and not realise it. So in Audrey, I can't get any traction. I think I need to find one of those little pad setups that cabbies mount on the dash to the right of the wheel just next to the side mirror area. Anyway. writing and driving don't really mix.
So I'm feeling pretty good for no apparent reason, but I'll take that (thank you very much universe) and if there is some credit, we can chalk it up to dark chocolate (Jamacian Rum today) and just knowing that Neil Gaiman is out there in the world (go now, and feel the love) and that there is half of a new William Gibson novel waiting for me at home tonight (review, yes, I've promised a review. Stay tuned, or stay "Feeded").
Yeah. Life is good!
Yesterday was a big day - a lot busier at work than I had hoped for and weird oversized taffic on the road (the ARMY was on the move in oversize Aliens-inspired things that I can only guess were APCs) then late at night huge trucks all with the weird super-yellow flashing lights and OVERSIZE oversize signs. One had a yaht with a keel as high as the mast (heading inland!) and of course the invasion of the watertanks proceeds apace and half a house (not as unusual as it sounds). It's in the car when I see things like this, or hear something on the radio that clashes well against something in my head that I most miss having the linked, clever tools i now associate the keyboard with (god, remember the grim days when you used to have to know what a modem was?).
I did have a notebook in the car up until recently and would scribble things as I could grab them. After one day a car passed me with the whole load of the passengers utterly loosing it watching me driving and writing I did have a minor re-think. Audrey has a much differently shaped steering wheel than the road monster - it was kinda bench-like but the drawback was that I would be beeping the horn and not realise it. So in Audrey, I can't get any traction. I think I need to find one of those little pad setups that cabbies mount on the dash to the right of the wheel just next to the side mirror area. Anyway. writing and driving don't really mix.
So I'm feeling pretty good for no apparent reason, but I'll take that (thank you very much universe) and if there is some credit, we can chalk it up to dark chocolate (Jamacian Rum today) and just knowing that Neil Gaiman is out there in the world (go now, and feel the love) and that there is half of a new William Gibson novel waiting for me at home tonight (review, yes, I've promised a review. Stay tuned, or stay "Feeded").
Yeah. Life is good!
Monday, May 14, 2007
Bogan Lunch
When in Rome...
Completely out of prepared lunch imagination and home-assembled salads, I opted for the Bogan Lunch today.
Went to the "Hoe Inn" (pun-riffic name huh?!) and ordered a Veggie Burger (no onion, bbq sauce) and a chocolate milk (small). For $7.25 I got a meal roughly half the cubic size of my head. Full as a goog - I even ate all my crusts.
There's something to be said for burgers - and I haven't had the 3pm dizzy either.
Completely out of prepared lunch imagination and home-assembled salads, I opted for the Bogan Lunch today.
Went to the "Hoe Inn" (pun-riffic name huh?!) and ordered a Veggie Burger (no onion, bbq sauce) and a chocolate milk (small). For $7.25 I got a meal roughly half the cubic size of my head. Full as a goog - I even ate all my crusts.
There's something to be said for burgers - and I haven't had the 3pm dizzy either.
Day before the day before the hump
Some Mondays are a bit more "monday" than others. You know what I mean - the ones following a long weekend - for example, can start with a bit of a false high (adrenaline/caffine) and then plummet quickly (some might say immediately) into a dystopian low (generally as I walk in and suffer the simultaneous onslaught of the flourescent lights and the smell of the place).
Eeuw.
But here I am and here we go - another week in the Trash City Sheltered Workshop. I've come in to find that some wag in the office has got me a packet of 24 colouring-in pencils via the corporate stationery order. Hil-Ar-ity.
Gotta get my head around it. C'mon! Slap! Slap!!
Reality hurts.
Eeuw.
But here I am and here we go - another week in the Trash City Sheltered Workshop. I've come in to find that some wag in the office has got me a packet of 24 colouring-in pencils via the corporate stationery order. Hil-Ar-ity.
Gotta get my head around it. C'mon! Slap! Slap!!
Reality hurts.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Serious Monkey
Marianne made me a monkey.
He has a big wrinkly forehead and is quite serious about life.
I love him already - he is on my Panel of the Interior (you know - the rabble of voices bickering and battling for the upper hand inside the echo-chamber of the head).
Marianne has put a face to something in me that often hoots with derision & I have had no name for. I am so very pleased with this toy and the mirror he holds back to me.
From the outside it must seem very childish and
infantile for a woman to play so readily.
But really, I cannot think of anything more valuable or hard - won in my life than this fragile capacity.
There was a comment this morning about culture being the outcome of humans' ability to sustain play into adulthood. Andy had been explaining the concept of Neotony (in relation to Anime and manga art styles) and then *pop* out comes this dazzling sideways link and I thought of my grim monkey and new wind-up dinosaur, and the softening they facilitate and the stories and talks they spark and allow.
So much has hapened before lunch today. My head is a little foggy from the wine last night and I don't feel up to being witty or intelligent. I am just a squirrel faced with an overabundance of nuts. I've momentarilly run out of places to stuff goodies.
There is something very tasty in these two things to come back to, I'm sure it will keep.
He has a big wrinkly forehead and is quite serious about life.
I love him already - he is on my Panel of the Interior (you know - the rabble of voices bickering and battling for the upper hand inside the echo-chamber of the head).
Marianne has put a face to something in me that often hoots with derision & I have had no name for. I am so very pleased with this toy and the mirror he holds back to me.
From the outside it must seem very childish and
infantile for a woman to play so readily.
But really, I cannot think of anything more valuable or hard - won in my life than this fragile capacity.
There was a comment this morning about culture being the outcome of humans' ability to sustain play into adulthood. Andy had been explaining the concept of Neotony (in relation to Anime and manga art styles) and then *pop* out comes this dazzling sideways link and I thought of my grim monkey and new wind-up dinosaur, and the softening they facilitate and the stories and talks they spark and allow.
So much has hapened before lunch today. My head is a little foggy from the wine last night and I don't feel up to being witty or intelligent. I am just a squirrel faced with an overabundance of nuts. I've momentarilly run out of places to stuff goodies.
There is something very tasty in these two things to come back to, I'm sure it will keep.
Laughing
Last night started out with a modest dinner in a good qaulity family-run resturaunt. It was so good to see some familiar faces and I felt relaxed and happy. A busy day after what has been in some ways an ordinary week - but an ordinary week in which a lot of thngs shifted around inside me and I feel able to make new accomodations for the complexities of my life.
A bottle of wine was opened and shared.
Another bottle appeared with mian course -
thank you wine fairy -
i wasn't really in touch with the practical mechanics of things by then.
And that is the magic of a nightout, isn't it?
Sharing a meal, telling stories, laughing and being loud.
Laughing some more.
Tipping and praising the patient, tired staff.
Spilling into the street for circular goodbyes and
'which way are you going?' muddling.
Guilt-free pleasure and belonging.
Wonderful, just wonderful.
A bottle of wine was opened and shared.
Another bottle appeared with mian course -
thank you wine fairy -
i wasn't really in touch with the practical mechanics of things by then.
And that is the magic of a nightout, isn't it?
Sharing a meal, telling stories, laughing and being loud.
Laughing some more.
Tipping and praising the patient, tired staff.
Spilling into the street for circular goodbyes and
'which way are you going?' muddling.
Guilt-free pleasure and belonging.
Wonderful, just wonderful.
Friday, May 11, 2007
A Life in Words by David Malouf
' "One life, one writing," Robert Lowell proclaims in one of his poems in For the Union Dead. It's a condition any serious writer takes for grnated, and living up to it is what such writers use a test of their integrity, of whether what they are tempted to write belongs to the real body of their work. In the end a writer is the work that appears under his name, not a personality or character; all that in time gets lost. What remains, embodied in the work, is a consciousness with its own peculiar pre-occupations, quirks, questions, doubts, insights; a set of responses to the isness of things, the great plural world of phenomena - light, colour, landscape, atmosphere, all the tumbling paraphernalia of livingand, more quiretly, a voice with its individual cadence.
It takes a little time to discover you may be a writer.What consolidates it for you, as they come (slowly sometimes) and accumulate, are the writings: poems, stories, the second novel rather than the first.
Until these are solidly there your being a writer is an aspiration more than a fact. After that it is the body of work that defines you and the body of work to which you are committed.'
(This is the opening to an essay titled "A Life in Words" by David Malbouf published in The Weekend Australian: Review Section May 5-6 2007)
It takes a little time to discover you may be a writer.What consolidates it for you, as they come (slowly sometimes) and accumulate, are the writings: poems, stories, the second novel rather than the first.
Until these are solidly there your being a writer is an aspiration more than a fact. After that it is the body of work that defines you and the body of work to which you are committed.'
(This is the opening to an essay titled "A Life in Words" by David Malbouf published in The Weekend Australian: Review Section May 5-6 2007)
So Over It
The olive harvest continues - it's been over a month - nearly six or seven weeks now I think. There's still about a fifth of the trees to go, and it's an Occam's Razor setup - the closer we are to the end the more there is to go. It feels like it will never end. The weather has stayed fine and hot so the trees are continuing to ripen. Ripening, and over-ripening. There's so much fruit on every tree now, a lot more like it should be, but almost half of it is too ripe and has to be thrown away (bruised, rotten or otherwised damed fruit can't be used).
In Mum's words "I'm so over it. We're finishing at the end of May".
That's how it goes. I think it's been a harvest of only about 3 tonne as of last weekend. I'm only involved on the weekends when I help grade (sort) the fruit. In a normal (non-drought) season, we would expect to get about 12 tonne. Frankly, we couldn't have gotten it off the trees this year. Of our regular pickers, about half didn't want to work this year, the people we selel the fruit too got a bee in their bonnet about only taking 'A Grade' so we've put a lot more to oil than we ordinarilly would (which makes us a lot less money), we've needed to make capital investments in a grading machine, and then further purchases on the right crates and tbs to use at either end of it. Dad's been getting radio-treatment for a face cancer every weekday, so he's doing a 200klm round trip every day, unless he's delivering our fruit to the oil press and then it's a 500klm day. I've never been so grateful to have an office job.
Kids, wear sunscreen. You so very do not want to get skin cancer.
Last night someone asked me if mum and dad make money.
No. No they don't.
Maybe if we got the 12 tonne instead of the 3 they would have a chance to recoup the costs - but even getting it off the trees and graded takes so much human effort. They're really banking on the mechanical harvesting techniques improving, and someone buying equiptment and being willing to lease it out for a week or so with a good driver for next year.
Of course, all the planning in the world won't help if there's no rain.
This farming stuff is heartbreaking in bad times.
In Mum's words "I'm so over it. We're finishing at the end of May".
That's how it goes. I think it's been a harvest of only about 3 tonne as of last weekend. I'm only involved on the weekends when I help grade (sort) the fruit. In a normal (non-drought) season, we would expect to get about 12 tonne. Frankly, we couldn't have gotten it off the trees this year. Of our regular pickers, about half didn't want to work this year, the people we selel the fruit too got a bee in their bonnet about only taking 'A Grade' so we've put a lot more to oil than we ordinarilly would (which makes us a lot less money), we've needed to make capital investments in a grading machine, and then further purchases on the right crates and tbs to use at either end of it. Dad's been getting radio-treatment for a face cancer every weekday, so he's doing a 200klm round trip every day, unless he's delivering our fruit to the oil press and then it's a 500klm day. I've never been so grateful to have an office job.
Kids, wear sunscreen. You so very do not want to get skin cancer.
Last night someone asked me if mum and dad make money.
No. No they don't.
Maybe if we got the 12 tonne instead of the 3 they would have a chance to recoup the costs - but even getting it off the trees and graded takes so much human effort. They're really banking on the mechanical harvesting techniques improving, and someone buying equiptment and being willing to lease it out for a week or so with a good driver for next year.
Of course, all the planning in the world won't help if there's no rain.
This farming stuff is heartbreaking in bad times.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
Normal Things
Have just been doing normal things. Being sick sure puts "uphill" into the day to day doesn't it? I'm happy that all I have is a cold - but how much heavier my body feels when faced with stairs (or even getting up out of the recliner-rocker). Health is important people, give yourselves some protection from the winter sniffles!
I lashed out this week, got myself some slippers from BigDub. Can't actually remember the last time I owned slippers. Of course the cool weather has given way back to stunningly oppressive heat again, so there goes twelve bucks up the chute. I also upped the ante on the tissues in the house. We've gone from black and white homebrand (800 grain sandpaper anybody?) to 3-ply aloe vera infused nose-towls. Pure luxury.
Speaking of sandpaper, I'm feeling a little proud of myself tonight. I have done my first ever car-rust-sanding type thing. There's probably a name for this. Sanding out the rust, spraying it with that grey primer undercoat stuff, and then, I'll do the white coat tomorrow. Pretty clever huh? These manual skills things really get a workout up here. Why don't guys call doing car stuff craft? Just coz there's no yarn or needles, doesn't mean it's not craft. I also sanded my new set of shelves (I held the bits while Dad nail-gunned it into submission), stained it (with tea: Bushells - if you're interested) and gave it a first coat of estapol. I was feeling a little bit pleased with myself. Right up to the point where I got a bit disorientated and knocked the tin of estapol over. Gee that stuff gets really sticky really quickly.
At least the scones worked out for morno's.
Jam anybody?
I lashed out this week, got myself some slippers from BigDub. Can't actually remember the last time I owned slippers. Of course the cool weather has given way back to stunningly oppressive heat again, so there goes twelve bucks up the chute. I also upped the ante on the tissues in the house. We've gone from black and white homebrand (800 grain sandpaper anybody?) to 3-ply aloe vera infused nose-towls. Pure luxury.
Speaking of sandpaper, I'm feeling a little proud of myself tonight. I have done my first ever car-rust-sanding type thing. There's probably a name for this. Sanding out the rust, spraying it with that grey primer undercoat stuff, and then, I'll do the white coat tomorrow. Pretty clever huh? These manual skills things really get a workout up here. Why don't guys call doing car stuff craft? Just coz there's no yarn or needles, doesn't mean it's not craft. I also sanded my new set of shelves (I held the bits while Dad nail-gunned it into submission), stained it (with tea: Bushells - if you're interested) and gave it a first coat of estapol. I was feeling a little bit pleased with myself. Right up to the point where I got a bit disorientated and knocked the tin of estapol over. Gee that stuff gets really sticky really quickly.
At least the scones worked out for morno's.
Jam anybody?
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Tick Tock
May already.
Last week I got a little car. Her name is Audrey and she is white. She's a 1981 Mazda 323.
Full moon last night - so bright I had to pull the blind across, but then, there were some other reasons I wasn't sleeping so well.
I have an interview today - I'm really nervous. I got up early to have an extra special shower and have extra time for getting dressed, and now I think I may have not put on the deoderant. ARGH!
Interview is at 2 pm, and because I am still getting to know my new phone, I'd forgotten to put the appointment in for 14:00 hours, so at 1:50 am my phone went ballistic warning me I had only 10 minutes to get to the board room for this meeting. It's just gone 8 am , and I'm trying to feel like it's early and there's plenty of time and everything's ok, and actually I just feel slightly panicked and can't breathe.
It's all over now - I think I did ok. The mananger of the position - who has interviewed people twice before and never filled the role- smiled a lot (including going and fetching me a strepsil when I had a coughing attack).
Stinky coughing girl seemed to do ok.
Mum's weaning the calves, and they've been bellowing for two days. Their throats are starting to sound like mine. A hoarse household.
Audrey doesn't have much of a radio, and my little pod thing is out of juice. I need some kind of major gadget audit/integration project.
Yes. There's also got to be rust-sanding projects.
I digress.
Actually today is one of those days where there's *only*digressions.
Last week I got a little car. Her name is Audrey and she is white. She's a 1981 Mazda 323.
Full moon last night - so bright I had to pull the blind across, but then, there were some other reasons I wasn't sleeping so well.
I have an interview today - I'm really nervous. I got up early to have an extra special shower and have extra time for getting dressed, and now I think I may have not put on the deoderant. ARGH!
Interview is at 2 pm, and because I am still getting to know my new phone, I'd forgotten to put the appointment in for 14:00 hours, so at 1:50 am my phone went ballistic warning me I had only 10 minutes to get to the board room for this meeting. It's just gone 8 am , and I'm trying to feel like it's early and there's plenty of time and everything's ok, and actually I just feel slightly panicked and can't breathe.
It's all over now - I think I did ok. The mananger of the position - who has interviewed people twice before and never filled the role- smiled a lot (including going and fetching me a strepsil when I had a coughing attack).
Stinky coughing girl seemed to do ok.
Mum's weaning the calves, and they've been bellowing for two days. Their throats are starting to sound like mine. A hoarse household.
Audrey doesn't have much of a radio, and my little pod thing is out of juice. I need some kind of major gadget audit/integration project.
Yes. There's also got to be rust-sanding projects.
I digress.
Actually today is one of those days where there's *only*digressions.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Philosophy Does Have its Consolations
Aphorisms are the fast food of philosophy, they give a great sound-bite and can stand in for actual conversations an extraordinary amount of the time. However, for the long hours alone with doubt, nothing has the staying power of full-strength philosophy - even for a dabbler such as myself.
Everything you can think of - every pain and ache and anguish. Poets have been there and carved the passage they took into the stones along the way. Philosophers eat those stones and eat the pain and eat down all the doubt and sit, alert and still while giant eggs of wisdom form in them and get squeezed out their eyes. Well, that's how it seems, although most philosophers seem keen to point out that they do their own laundry and washing up. So maybe those eggs need movement of the body to help them come out.
There is a feeling of exile at the moment. I am homesick again. I do have a plan for being here, it's not subtle or sophisticated - make money and set up the infrastructure for a life.
It is starting to come together too, and that's why I came - these things are attainable here. But of course they're *here*. I have the habits of a decade to appraise and choose to keep or not. The short-term plan is still in it's first third. One year or two is not so long int he bigger picture, after all.
Plans do unfold as long as you have them and tend them. Better hope I planned for the right things then!
Everything you can think of - every pain and ache and anguish. Poets have been there and carved the passage they took into the stones along the way. Philosophers eat those stones and eat the pain and eat down all the doubt and sit, alert and still while giant eggs of wisdom form in them and get squeezed out their eyes. Well, that's how it seems, although most philosophers seem keen to point out that they do their own laundry and washing up. So maybe those eggs need movement of the body to help them come out.
There is a feeling of exile at the moment. I am homesick again. I do have a plan for being here, it's not subtle or sophisticated - make money and set up the infrastructure for a life.
It is starting to come together too, and that's why I came - these things are attainable here. But of course they're *here*. I have the habits of a decade to appraise and choose to keep or not. The short-term plan is still in it's first third. One year or two is not so long int he bigger picture, after all.
Plans do unfold as long as you have them and tend them. Better hope I planned for the right things then!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Another Lowpoint
Some milestones should not be recorded, but i am feeling macabre this week.
In 1988 I purchased "The Name of the Rose" by Umberto Eco from the Koala Park newsagency. It was the first grown-up book I'd ever handed over money for, and expanded my book buying from Kmart (where I'd picked up a copy of Shakespeare). Shakey hadn't counted as a grown-up purchase because I'd heard of him at school, and he was in the library there, and I knew there would be more of him to come. But Eco, well, that was something else altogther! Plus, $15 was a lot of money to me then. I could fill my car for $20 and buy a record for $12. I still have that book. It was within months of this that I discovered that there were still "bookstores". I had heard of them in my reading, but I had never been anywhere that had a whole store devoted to books - so at that time I thought it was an old-fashioned thing.
So I have never even considered buying a book from a news agent since then. Until yesterday. I was looking for The Monthly (only stocked in one news agent in area!) and in front of me was a rack of remainders - all penguins! There was the last a-format paperback by Orson Scott Card - "Shadow of the Giant" which must be number 3 in the Bean series, which makes it - what?- number 7? in the Ender world? Orson Scott-Card is making a chronology of books more comlpex than the Star Wars universe. Anyway, got the mag, and picked up the book ($7!) and there you have it. Read it in an overnight binge on SF and Ender backstory. My first book purchase from a news agent in 19 years.
Oh Kino! How I miss you so!
Last week I was at the Gallery of Modern Art - which is right next door to the State Library. I did browse their bookstore, but it was kindof the book equivalent of Gourmet Traveller magazine - good looking, glossy, plenty of ads, and really, largely unsatisfying for being spread too thin over too much bread.
There's plenty more to say about that day, but this is not the time.
The upside is, at least I read a book!! And it was good!! And i had fun!!
Yay. Shame it has that nasty black marker-pen slash on the bottom, but a little bit of fine sandpaper will fix that!
In 1988 I purchased "The Name of the Rose" by Umberto Eco from the Koala Park newsagency. It was the first grown-up book I'd ever handed over money for, and expanded my book buying from Kmart (where I'd picked up a copy of Shakespeare). Shakey hadn't counted as a grown-up purchase because I'd heard of him at school, and he was in the library there, and I knew there would be more of him to come. But Eco, well, that was something else altogther! Plus, $15 was a lot of money to me then. I could fill my car for $20 and buy a record for $12. I still have that book. It was within months of this that I discovered that there were still "bookstores". I had heard of them in my reading, but I had never been anywhere that had a whole store devoted to books - so at that time I thought it was an old-fashioned thing.
So I have never even considered buying a book from a news agent since then. Until yesterday. I was looking for The Monthly (only stocked in one news agent in area!) and in front of me was a rack of remainders - all penguins! There was the last a-format paperback by Orson Scott Card - "Shadow of the Giant" which must be number 3 in the Bean series, which makes it - what?- number 7? in the Ender world? Orson Scott-Card is making a chronology of books more comlpex than the Star Wars universe. Anyway, got the mag, and picked up the book ($7!) and there you have it. Read it in an overnight binge on SF and Ender backstory. My first book purchase from a news agent in 19 years.
Oh Kino! How I miss you so!
Last week I was at the Gallery of Modern Art - which is right next door to the State Library. I did browse their bookstore, but it was kindof the book equivalent of Gourmet Traveller magazine - good looking, glossy, plenty of ads, and really, largely unsatisfying for being spread too thin over too much bread.
There's plenty more to say about that day, but this is not the time.
The upside is, at least I read a book!! And it was good!! And i had fun!!
Yay. Shame it has that nasty black marker-pen slash on the bottom, but a little bit of fine sandpaper will fix that!
ANZAC Day
Here it is again, dawn services to commemorate the sacrifices of our brave soldiers and fighting forces in wars and military actions of all shapes and sizes but basically the landing at Channackle in the Dardanelles as part of an English offensive to piss Russia off, and put pressure on the Turkish.
Was it the right kind of pressure to put on a degenerate state?
I learnt something about our history this year that shocked me.
It's been a long time since I was shocked by atrocity, usually i feel resigned and numb to what has happened and seems like will always happen. Humans are such shit-bags so much of the time. Somehow, this cut through to me so that yesterday and today have been made fresh again. Perhaps this is old news for you, so patience please for those among us to whom this is new. Ordinarily I wouldn't try and parse something this big, I would refer you to a text or to a web page.
So here's Wiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armenian_massacre
and another Wiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ANZAC_Day
and my story for today falls in the gap between the two.
The massacre and then our landing. Do we hold any responsibility for the actions of the Ottomans against the Armenians? Perhaps not - certainly not directly - but should this atrocity have it's place in our commemoration of this time? Absolutely!
After all, isn't that the point of ANZAC Day? That it's important to remember these things, and wars are bad but it's good people who fight them, and so on. But that doesn't seem to be what we do so much anymore. We seem to be glorifying, mythologising and embroidering a story about war, getting further and further from the messy truth of the matter rather than feeling the immediacy of loss and interrogating our present actions as a nation in light of the pain of the past.
Which is to say that the landing in that small shingle cove was wrapped up in a flow of other events that we deliberately stay blind to.
If we insist that we "came of age as a nation" in that landing, then we must remember the full nature of that phrase. A loss of innocence is important because it is about accepting the full range of costs an adult can understand. We were not just as a fighting force mis-used at the hands of our British masters, but as must accept our complicity in a bungled foreign policy where a whole race of people suffered the consequences. That is what has been lost along the way.
That our heartfelt pilgrimages to the cove (Yes, I went there, as so many people my age have done, and like them, I didn't hear of the Armenian massacre from my charming Turkish hosts) and the hair-raising on our arms and necks during these most solemn services are sincere is not in question, but the point of these services must also to refresh the sense of responsibility that we as citizens have for the actions of our warriors and their leaders.
Australian and New Zealand troops landed on a small cove, north of the main English action. They weren't quite in the right spot, but no real matter - warfare is like that. The ground rose steeply and their objective was to take the high ground. Soldiers since Sun Tzu would recognise the objective. A dawn landing would give them the advantage of surprise - it's all by the book. Our enemy was known to be ruthless, vicious and ready to defend their land, and they did so successfully.
Knowing they could not fight on two fronts, they slaughtered the civilians who were rebelling against mistreatment, and focused their energies on repelling the foreign invaders. We turned the Turks into a part of our fairytale about manhood and nationhood and for all our rhetoric about *remembrance* we seem deeply unwilling to remember the cost the invasion had for the Armenian people. They should be our partners in this story. They should have a place in our services and our myth.
It turns out that even now, the victors still get to write the history.
Today, as I made the traditional biscuits that will go up to Ma & Pa picking in the patch, and I know that Grandad would be coming home from the service, and even now, as I finish writing, my work colleagues are laying wreaths and listening to speeches, I could not think of anything but how horrible, how utterly saddening that slaughter was in thought and in deed. How interwoven it is with our small, blind role in a ill-managed battle, how it is but a thread in what was to become the Second World War, where Hitler remembered what the Turks had gotten away with when he had his own *troublesome* internal populations to deal with.
I honour our warriors and commemorate their personal sacrifices. As a thinking citizen, I also interrogate our role in wars, in battles, in invading other countries. If we do not remember the ugly consequences of some of these actions, we risk diminishing those sacrifices. Sun Tzu also pointed out that the best way to win was to plan to not fight - that negotiation, maneuvering, information, terrain, politics, so many things could be used by a good leader before force should be deployed.
Today I am sorrowful for the deaths of the soldiers on that harsh ground and am shaken that we choose not to remember the full actions of our enemies at that time in preference for glorifying our ability to take a beating. Not much of a myth to live up to when you look at it that way.
Was it the right kind of pressure to put on a degenerate state?
I learnt something about our history this year that shocked me.
It's been a long time since I was shocked by atrocity, usually i feel resigned and numb to what has happened and seems like will always happen. Humans are such shit-bags so much of the time. Somehow, this cut through to me so that yesterday and today have been made fresh again. Perhaps this is old news for you, so patience please for those among us to whom this is new. Ordinarily I wouldn't try and parse something this big, I would refer you to a text or to a web page.
So here's Wiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Armenian_massacre
and another Wiki
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ANZAC_Day
and my story for today falls in the gap between the two.
The massacre and then our landing. Do we hold any responsibility for the actions of the Ottomans against the Armenians? Perhaps not - certainly not directly - but should this atrocity have it's place in our commemoration of this time? Absolutely!
After all, isn't that the point of ANZAC Day? That it's important to remember these things, and wars are bad but it's good people who fight them, and so on. But that doesn't seem to be what we do so much anymore. We seem to be glorifying, mythologising and embroidering a story about war, getting further and further from the messy truth of the matter rather than feeling the immediacy of loss and interrogating our present actions as a nation in light of the pain of the past.
Which is to say that the landing in that small shingle cove was wrapped up in a flow of other events that we deliberately stay blind to.
If we insist that we "came of age as a nation" in that landing, then we must remember the full nature of that phrase. A loss of innocence is important because it is about accepting the full range of costs an adult can understand. We were not just as a fighting force mis-used at the hands of our British masters, but as must accept our complicity in a bungled foreign policy where a whole race of people suffered the consequences. That is what has been lost along the way.
That our heartfelt pilgrimages to the cove (Yes, I went there, as so many people my age have done, and like them, I didn't hear of the Armenian massacre from my charming Turkish hosts) and the hair-raising on our arms and necks during these most solemn services are sincere is not in question, but the point of these services must also to refresh the sense of responsibility that we as citizens have for the actions of our warriors and their leaders.
Australian and New Zealand troops landed on a small cove, north of the main English action. They weren't quite in the right spot, but no real matter - warfare is like that. The ground rose steeply and their objective was to take the high ground. Soldiers since Sun Tzu would recognise the objective. A dawn landing would give them the advantage of surprise - it's all by the book. Our enemy was known to be ruthless, vicious and ready to defend their land, and they did so successfully.
Knowing they could not fight on two fronts, they slaughtered the civilians who were rebelling against mistreatment, and focused their energies on repelling the foreign invaders. We turned the Turks into a part of our fairytale about manhood and nationhood and for all our rhetoric about *remembrance* we seem deeply unwilling to remember the cost the invasion had for the Armenian people. They should be our partners in this story. They should have a place in our services and our myth.
It turns out that even now, the victors still get to write the history.
Today, as I made the traditional biscuits that will go up to Ma & Pa picking in the patch, and I know that Grandad would be coming home from the service, and even now, as I finish writing, my work colleagues are laying wreaths and listening to speeches, I could not think of anything but how horrible, how utterly saddening that slaughter was in thought and in deed. How interwoven it is with our small, blind role in a ill-managed battle, how it is but a thread in what was to become the Second World War, where Hitler remembered what the Turks had gotten away with when he had his own *troublesome* internal populations to deal with.
I honour our warriors and commemorate their personal sacrifices. As a thinking citizen, I also interrogate our role in wars, in battles, in invading other countries. If we do not remember the ugly consequences of some of these actions, we risk diminishing those sacrifices. Sun Tzu also pointed out that the best way to win was to plan to not fight - that negotiation, maneuvering, information, terrain, politics, so many things could be used by a good leader before force should be deployed.
Today I am sorrowful for the deaths of the soldiers on that harsh ground and am shaken that we choose not to remember the full actions of our enemies at that time in preference for glorifying our ability to take a beating. Not much of a myth to live up to when you look at it that way.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
New Phone Parable
My old mobile couldn’t talk for very long anymore. You know how it goes – it would charge all the way and last forever if you only wanted to SMS people and tell the time, but call someone and within 5 minutes or so it’s bleating for some juice.
Poor little chook, and it feels like I’ve had it forever. The numbers are worn off the keypad and I can set the alarm in the dark half asleep.
So I went into the Telstra shop, and said “I’m out of contract and I want a new phone.”
Erin helped me out.
And by that, I mean that Erin confused the fuck out of me with a torrent of technojumbo and shiny things with far far too many features. Reeling and intimidated, I did what I did last time, and said “I want a nokia, and give me a fairly simple one.”
So here I am with the Nokia N80, which has more computing power than my first 3 computers *put*together*.
It’s not even officially a phone, it’s a “multimedia device”.
Actually, it’s kinda hard to use it as a phone – that command is about 5 or 6 actions down the menu structure. It has a little blue light that keeps flashing, it came with more cables than my laptop. It’s clearly a hardcore piece of technology and I’m not sure I should have it.
I’m starting to think I should have just scrounged around and got a new battery and keypad for my old one. At least I didn’t need my glasses on to operate it, and I could make a call with just my thumb. This is exactly how the Cylons end up destroying us isn’t it? This thing can connect to the internet – in fact I don’t know how to *not* make it do that. Maybe I’ll be okay as long as it doesn’t remember my credit card number. Maybe it has a swipe reader I haven’t found in the manual yet.
We may have to institute Turing tests for these posts.
Poor little chook, and it feels like I’ve had it forever. The numbers are worn off the keypad and I can set the alarm in the dark half asleep.
So I went into the Telstra shop, and said “I’m out of contract and I want a new phone.”
Erin helped me out.
And by that, I mean that Erin confused the fuck out of me with a torrent of technojumbo and shiny things with far far too many features. Reeling and intimidated, I did what I did last time, and said “I want a nokia, and give me a fairly simple one.”
So here I am with the Nokia N80, which has more computing power than my first 3 computers *put*together*.
It’s not even officially a phone, it’s a “multimedia device”.
Actually, it’s kinda hard to use it as a phone – that command is about 5 or 6 actions down the menu structure. It has a little blue light that keeps flashing, it came with more cables than my laptop. It’s clearly a hardcore piece of technology and I’m not sure I should have it.
I’m starting to think I should have just scrounged around and got a new battery and keypad for my old one. At least I didn’t need my glasses on to operate it, and I could make a call with just my thumb. This is exactly how the Cylons end up destroying us isn’t it? This thing can connect to the internet – in fact I don’t know how to *not* make it do that. Maybe I’ll be okay as long as it doesn’t remember my credit card number. Maybe it has a swipe reader I haven’t found in the manual yet.
We may have to institute Turing tests for these posts.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Doubts
"I would like to be a writer - but how! My style is poor, my vocabulary lamentably small, and my ideas indistinct. Yet I do receive inspiration, by which I mean my mind becomes filled with an idea, and I want to develop it - then I am excited ... to achieve my goal I must (i) Discipline myself - no excesses - an artist should observe (ii) Note down my ideas and impressions (iii) Not be dependent on people."
Manning Clark 1942
(as quoted in 'The Monthly' March Issue 2007, pg 25)
Manning Clark 1942
(as quoted in 'The Monthly' March Issue 2007, pg 25)
Monday, April 16, 2007
More Poker Madness
My nieces were on Easter break last week and stayed with us at the farm so Sis2 could work.
Hilarity all 'round.
Then of course, they want to play games in the evening after dinner and before bed.
What do you think is the favourite game of the eleven and six year olds?
That's right - Texas Hold 'Em!
Yup, gambling teaches great numeracy skills, as well as process, rule interpretation and statistical likelihood. Not only that, but who to be a gracious looser, and in their case, non-gloating winners.
Little one had a bit of a tell though, when she had a strong hand she would say:
"I'm liken' *that* pot!"
Fold, fold, fold around the table.
Hilarity all 'round.
Then of course, they want to play games in the evening after dinner and before bed.
What do you think is the favourite game of the eleven and six year olds?
That's right - Texas Hold 'Em!
Yup, gambling teaches great numeracy skills, as well as process, rule interpretation and statistical likelihood. Not only that, but who to be a gracious looser, and in their case, non-gloating winners.
Little one had a bit of a tell though, when she had a strong hand she would say:
"I'm liken' *that* pot!"
Fold, fold, fold around the table.
User Pays
I wasn't all *that* shocked that I couldn't get tempeh in the supermarket. I did laugh at the woman's face when I went to ask them to order it, and this is Woolworths remember, and she said:
"We can only get what we already have."
BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
Okay - no love there.
So I went tot eh health food store - no, we don't have it.
"Do you ever have it?"
"Yeah, well you can special order it."
"Ok, fair enough. When is the next order and how much will it be?"
"No idea."
*sigh*
so I pushed ahead and placed the order, and three weeks later they've rung me - it's in.
Great.
"How much is it?"
(This is protein for me - daily serve type situation)
"It's a 250gram block and it's $6.65."
"You're joking."
.... silence....
No, they aren't. Vegos can fucking pay for the privilege thank you very much. Well, I'm sick of tofu to the point of homocide, so extortion seems like the easy way out.
On the way to the store, I drop by the photo place thinking to make a cd of all the cruft on my camera.
"Hi, how much is it to burn a CD?"
"How big is your chip?"
"Umm, I'll check - 512."
"Okay - that'll be $15."
"What. Does the size of the chip make a difference ?"
"Yeah! Takes a different amount of time to run it, and if it's a gig chip, then it's more than one cd."
"I'll skip it today thanks."
FIFTEEN BUCKS!!!?
What are they thinking? And I'm a "so-called" VIP member!
You want to make your own culture here - there's a surcharge.
I am very tempted to overuse the exclamation point.
"We can only get what we already have."
BWAHAHAHAHAHAAA.
Okay - no love there.
So I went tot eh health food store - no, we don't have it.
"Do you ever have it?"
"Yeah, well you can special order it."
"Ok, fair enough. When is the next order and how much will it be?"
"No idea."
*sigh*
so I pushed ahead and placed the order, and three weeks later they've rung me - it's in.
Great.
"How much is it?"
(This is protein for me - daily serve type situation)
"It's a 250gram block and it's $6.65."
"You're joking."
.... silence....
No, they aren't. Vegos can fucking pay for the privilege thank you very much. Well, I'm sick of tofu to the point of homocide, so extortion seems like the easy way out.
On the way to the store, I drop by the photo place thinking to make a cd of all the cruft on my camera.
"Hi, how much is it to burn a CD?"
"How big is your chip?"
"Umm, I'll check - 512."
"Okay - that'll be $15."
"What. Does the size of the chip make a difference ?"
"Yeah! Takes a different amount of time to run it, and if it's a gig chip, then it's more than one cd."
"I'll skip it today thanks."
FIFTEEN BUCKS!!!?
What are they thinking? And I'm a "so-called" VIP member!
You want to make your own culture here - there's a surcharge.
I am very tempted to overuse the exclamation point.
"We Need to Talk About Kevin"
What a great book!
I love the epistolary form and it works so well for this contemporary story.
There's such tension between the size of the "polt" and the personal immedicacy of her letters.
Put it on your reading list.
"We Need to Talk About Kevin" Lionel Shriver.
(http://bookweb.kinokuniya.co.jp/guest/cgi-bin/bookseaohb.cgi?ISBN=1921145080&AREA=06)
Very satisfying fiction.
I love the epistolary form and it works so well for this contemporary story.
There's such tension between the size of the "polt" and the personal immedicacy of her letters.
Put it on your reading list.
"We Need to Talk About Kevin" Lionel Shriver.
(http://bookweb.kinokuniya.co.jp/guest/cgi-bin/bookseaohb.cgi?ISBN=1921145080&AREA=06)
Very satisfying fiction.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Nothing to Write Home About
Thankfully, yesterday afternoon was anti-climactic in the "personal danger - excitement of living" area.
Good.
There a many, many people in the world who would draw a great deal of inspiration and srt from such a moment, and I am not one of them. I am dull.
Today I saw an antique steam train in pristine "Harry Potter" condition chugging across the old rail bridge (which I had been told was no longer in use). I was in almost the identical spot as yesterday when I saw the bomber. Perhaps TC has it's own tiny Bermuda Triangle? How intriguing!! I may have to swing by it more often and see if I can catch glimpses of bogans throughout the ages.
I wonder if the marketing team have thought of this?
They could use the help - currently the "Top 20 Reasons to Visit Ipswich" lists (with a straight face) (in no particular order) golf (!), dining (!), walking tours (listed 3 times - city, bush & heritage), friendly clubs (local leagues club!) and, shopping (! yes, the people are standing out the front of a Wendy's Donuts!).
In this light the odd bomber sighting must be utterly gripping - better spice up this Bermuda Triangle link asap.
Good.
There a many, many people in the world who would draw a great deal of inspiration and srt from such a moment, and I am not one of them. I am dull.
Today I saw an antique steam train in pristine "Harry Potter" condition chugging across the old rail bridge (which I had been told was no longer in use). I was in almost the identical spot as yesterday when I saw the bomber. Perhaps TC has it's own tiny Bermuda Triangle? How intriguing!! I may have to swing by it more often and see if I can catch glimpses of bogans throughout the ages.
I wonder if the marketing team have thought of this?
They could use the help - currently the "Top 20 Reasons to Visit Ipswich" lists (with a straight face) (in no particular order) golf (!), dining (!), walking tours (listed 3 times - city, bush & heritage), friendly clubs (local leagues club!) and, shopping (! yes, the people are standing out the front of a Wendy's Donuts!).
In this light the odd bomber sighting must be utterly gripping - better spice up this Bermuda Triangle link asap.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Bomber Passing Over
Well the long weekend whooshed by in the usual blur of feasting, working and a bit of booze. It was great to see my sisters and nieces and Grandad Luxton stayed over and cleaned us out of crosswords.
The olives are horribly light-on, and if we get even two tonne we'll be considering it a win (after revising our expectations down to about 6 tonne around October last year). So much rain was promised and so very very little actually precipitated. We're basically lucky our trees are alive, let alone managing to push out an average of about 10 to 15 kilos each.
Returning to work is always a bit of a strain on mondays, but after 4 days it can be so much harder, and it was. Although the farm is struggling, and the work is draining, it's such a continual pleasure to feel the ground under my feet and feel air all around me. The sky has been dazzling, and Riley drops at the end of his days into a contented stupor.
There were two other great highlights last week - just prior to the long weekend - Upstairs Tom came through town on the home-leg of a 5 week journey. He'd been across to Adelaide, up through the red heart, across to the reef and down. We had noodles out on the Bremer and the bats came up the river and it was great to hear him tell his stories of the trip and to see a familiar face. Upstairs Tom has a great laugh and a sly sense of humour. After dinner we had a beer and attempted a stroll. My first visitor! Glorious.
Then, a shock - I went to a book launch at the Art Gallery and - it was great!! A local (prolific) artist has self-published a book - on the creative process. Well. I was hobnobbing it with the TC Arts Crowd and didn't all 10 of us have a top night. The highlight of the night for me was hearing the guest speaker - Dr Gilbert Burgh (lecturer in philosophy) give a fairly radical point of view on the role of art in life. I did buy a copy of the book, as it looks great and will probably get a bit of air-time here once I've read it!
Wednesday is, of course, hump-day and needs no other reason to be mentioned, except that two very odd things have already happened. Yesterday I zoomed past a middle-aged man hitchhiking on the highway heading west. He looked a lot like Nicholas Higgens (from North & South) and that got me to thinking how he's probably doing it tough and here I am in the Road Monster, shuttleing backwards and forwards. So this morning at 7.15 am, I picked up a white-haired fellow who introduced himself as Barry Johns. I just accidentally typed "Batty" Johns and considered letting it stand. He was as full of shit as a nappy left at a picnic site. Sis2 saw me drop him off at the Amberley Roadhouse and SMSed me with dire warnings and imprecations against doing this kind of thing again. Now I thought that it was *being* the hitch-hiker that was dangerous. After all - how did he know that I wasn't some nutter with an intimate knowledge of the local scrub and a penchant for forensic science? He didn't. So my day started with a slightly random, barely thought through exploration of annonymous generosity and it's relationship to personal danger.
The personal danger theme was obliquely developed when on an errand out and about, a giant, fat, heavy plane dragged itself over the sky above me. Feeling small and vulnerable, I looked up at its belly and realised "those are *bomb*doors* above me." Right above me. Other people started taking photos - I was looking around for somewhere to run to. The immediate urge passed, and the bomber took a few slow orbits to find the right runway or whatever it was looking for. Apparently this is considered a bit of an attraction around here. Frankly, I found it disturbing. A lot more disturbing that Batty Johns who was *right*there* next to me for half an hour. But no-one wants to stop and take a photo of old Batty, or the unknown Nicholas Higgens of yesterday.
If things come in threes, this arvo ought to be a corker.
The olives are horribly light-on, and if we get even two tonne we'll be considering it a win (after revising our expectations down to about 6 tonne around October last year). So much rain was promised and so very very little actually precipitated. We're basically lucky our trees are alive, let alone managing to push out an average of about 10 to 15 kilos each.
Returning to work is always a bit of a strain on mondays, but after 4 days it can be so much harder, and it was. Although the farm is struggling, and the work is draining, it's such a continual pleasure to feel the ground under my feet and feel air all around me. The sky has been dazzling, and Riley drops at the end of his days into a contented stupor.
There were two other great highlights last week - just prior to the long weekend - Upstairs Tom came through town on the home-leg of a 5 week journey. He'd been across to Adelaide, up through the red heart, across to the reef and down. We had noodles out on the Bremer and the bats came up the river and it was great to hear him tell his stories of the trip and to see a familiar face. Upstairs Tom has a great laugh and a sly sense of humour. After dinner we had a beer and attempted a stroll. My first visitor! Glorious.
Then, a shock - I went to a book launch at the Art Gallery and - it was great!! A local (prolific) artist has self-published a book - on the creative process. Well. I was hobnobbing it with the TC Arts Crowd and didn't all 10 of us have a top night. The highlight of the night for me was hearing the guest speaker - Dr Gilbert Burgh (lecturer in philosophy) give a fairly radical point of view on the role of art in life. I did buy a copy of the book, as it looks great and will probably get a bit of air-time here once I've read it!
Wednesday is, of course, hump-day and needs no other reason to be mentioned, except that two very odd things have already happened. Yesterday I zoomed past a middle-aged man hitchhiking on the highway heading west. He looked a lot like Nicholas Higgens (from North & South) and that got me to thinking how he's probably doing it tough and here I am in the Road Monster, shuttleing backwards and forwards. So this morning at 7.15 am, I picked up a white-haired fellow who introduced himself as Barry Johns. I just accidentally typed "Batty" Johns and considered letting it stand. He was as full of shit as a nappy left at a picnic site. Sis2 saw me drop him off at the Amberley Roadhouse and SMSed me with dire warnings and imprecations against doing this kind of thing again. Now I thought that it was *being* the hitch-hiker that was dangerous. After all - how did he know that I wasn't some nutter with an intimate knowledge of the local scrub and a penchant for forensic science? He didn't. So my day started with a slightly random, barely thought through exploration of annonymous generosity and it's relationship to personal danger.
The personal danger theme was obliquely developed when on an errand out and about, a giant, fat, heavy plane dragged itself over the sky above me. Feeling small and vulnerable, I looked up at its belly and realised "those are *bomb*doors* above me." Right above me. Other people started taking photos - I was looking around for somewhere to run to. The immediate urge passed, and the bomber took a few slow orbits to find the right runway or whatever it was looking for. Apparently this is considered a bit of an attraction around here. Frankly, I found it disturbing. A lot more disturbing that Batty Johns who was *right*there* next to me for half an hour. But no-one wants to stop and take a photo of old Batty, or the unknown Nicholas Higgens of yesterday.
If things come in threes, this arvo ought to be a corker.
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Wrapping up the "Festival of J9"
It's been a fully chockas coupla weeks and they came to a close on Sunday with a batch of Gingernuts and a GIANT catch-up with Sis2 and Maritiming Mez.
{contented sigh}
Let me give the action-packed synopsis.
Sat 24 March: Festival opens with a HOEDOWN party at Sis2's place. Costumes hired, racks of shot glasses, crates of booze, and stodgy camp-food to fill the most ravenous cowboys. Gun ratio of roughly 3 (cap) guns per child led to an authentic pandemonium. Costumes and decorations created desired ambiance leading to a poker tournament (of 14!!) filled with drunken claims of cheating, suprise pot scoops, and ultimately a first-time player/granny beating everyone out with her cool head and calm play.
Utterly Hilarious.
Brother in-laws both got rat-faced to the point of legless/sick. A job well done, I say.
Tue 27 March: Enter my first ever Texas-Hold'em Poker Tournament. One of 4 women in a room of 48 intense guys. AWESOME! Was *not* first person knocked out - made it to about midfield and had a ball. Took about 2 rounds before I stopped visibly shaking, and another 8 or so before I could join in the table banter. They kept apologising to me when they swore, and I let them. hehehehe. Wrapped the night up with a late-night session of baking and watching "The Libertine". *dark*swoon*.
Wed 28 March: The actual day of celebration. Diet thrown to the wind, I bake the giant carrot-cake of LOVE and throw myself a party at work. Bewildered workmates all to happy to join in the spirit and some bring food too - minor feast seems to spontaneously combust out of an empty desk. Very gratefully receive unexpected gifts from co-workers. Go to lunch with Sis3 and enjoy discovering *excellent* deli does exist. Mass sensations of peace and good-will to all mankind lasts until the coffee wears off (around 3pm).
Randomly scattered throughout week: Come home to find the mail has delivered boxes, cards, good wishes and lots of fun. DVDs and books feature highly and the slightly glamorous feeling of being loved by people not immediately present is deeply gratifying.
Friday 30 March: After work swing by S3's place and check in on brother-in-law and general hello-ness. Lovely to be able to do a drop-in for a half hour. S2 and kids at the farm all having dinner when I get back. Family, family, family.
Saturday 31 March: Outdoor concert of jazz and classical music in lush gardens of nearby luxury b&b starts in afternoon with local talent performing extrordinary original compositions (a la Michael Nyman) and then old standards etc. Wonderful music marred only by the usual propensity of humans at live events where it's a "picnic style" event to become sidetracked by their eskies and thence by chatting. Local mountains provided excellent backdrop. Glass of wine and comfy seat was perfect. Just perfect.
And so here we are. Thirty-six years old, and still happy-enough to own up to it.
{contented sigh}
Let me give the action-packed synopsis.
Sat 24 March: Festival opens with a HOEDOWN party at Sis2's place. Costumes hired, racks of shot glasses, crates of booze, and stodgy camp-food to fill the most ravenous cowboys. Gun ratio of roughly 3 (cap) guns per child led to an authentic pandemonium. Costumes and decorations created desired ambiance leading to a poker tournament (of 14!!) filled with drunken claims of cheating, suprise pot scoops, and ultimately a first-time player/granny beating everyone out with her cool head and calm play.
Utterly Hilarious.
Brother in-laws both got rat-faced to the point of legless/sick. A job well done, I say.
Tue 27 March: Enter my first ever Texas-Hold'em Poker Tournament. One of 4 women in a room of 48 intense guys. AWESOME! Was *not* first person knocked out - made it to about midfield and had a ball. Took about 2 rounds before I stopped visibly shaking, and another 8 or so before I could join in the table banter. They kept apologising to me when they swore, and I let them. hehehehe. Wrapped the night up with a late-night session of baking and watching "The Libertine". *dark*swoon*.
Wed 28 March: The actual day of celebration. Diet thrown to the wind, I bake the giant carrot-cake of LOVE and throw myself a party at work. Bewildered workmates all to happy to join in the spirit and some bring food too - minor feast seems to spontaneously combust out of an empty desk. Very gratefully receive unexpected gifts from co-workers. Go to lunch with Sis3 and enjoy discovering *excellent* deli does exist. Mass sensations of peace and good-will to all mankind lasts until the coffee wears off (around 3pm).
Randomly scattered throughout week: Come home to find the mail has delivered boxes, cards, good wishes and lots of fun. DVDs and books feature highly and the slightly glamorous feeling of being loved by people not immediately present is deeply gratifying.
Friday 30 March: After work swing by S3's place and check in on brother-in-law and general hello-ness. Lovely to be able to do a drop-in for a half hour. S2 and kids at the farm all having dinner when I get back. Family, family, family.
Saturday 31 March: Outdoor concert of jazz and classical music in lush gardens of nearby luxury b&b starts in afternoon with local talent performing extrordinary original compositions (a la Michael Nyman) and then old standards etc. Wonderful music marred only by the usual propensity of humans at live events where it's a "picnic style" event to become sidetracked by their eskies and thence by chatting. Local mountains provided excellent backdrop. Glass of wine and comfy seat was perfect. Just perfect.
And so here we are. Thirty-six years old, and still happy-enough to own up to it.
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