The etymology of "stock exchange" came up today and that got me talking about the intriguing development of the idea of "currency" alongside the barter/unsecured coinage system that people used to get by with in local economies. Which linked over to the the quantum-self-help-guru world where money is referred to as "energy", and driving in the car this morning the thought that "money changes people" is often a derisive or negative thing to say.
You know what I mean, there's occasionally an interview with some new sensation where they assert "Money hasn't changed me" or won't or one of those variations.
I wonder why they want that money then if not to change? If not to enable a broader scope of activity, a change of venue or an expansion of influence, where is the motivation for the activity that results in the cash they apparently don't desire.
For some reason Russell Crowe came to mind. Now I don't think that he's ever been one to say anything this flaccid, but he's the kinda guy who *could* and it would make at least some sense. Liked rugby league, buys a league team.
But what about those people who say they would win lotto and keep working?! What's with that? Why buy the lotto ticket then? This sounds slightly white-shoe brigade, but it's not meant to be. Actually I'm coming at it more from a "wouldn't the world be better if more of us were more emotionally and creatively fulfilled - and wouldn't moving towards that state be the first thing you'd act on if you were given a wad of cash?" point of view.
I'm not saying that I expect everyone would open an orphanage or buy Sumatran rainforest to protect orangutans - but *some* people would. Other people might take up watercolours, or scuba diving, or leave the town they were born in and see some other parts of the country. Usually with a bit more of a smile, and a bit more patience at the red lights along the way. Most people harbour a secret desire and acting towards that, even partially, constitutes a change.
Ergo, I guess, when people say they "wouldn't change" they mean only in a *bad* way.
How frustrating then, that this useful word which is conceptually neutral seems to be loosing valency. For a positive meaning to the word "change" which words can we fall back on in English - "improvement"? Euch. How 80s.
So thinking back to the money as energy or within the context of currency... the entire structure we have for exchange, for transaction - it's all predicated on the supposition that all is in motion, that there is no true static point anyway.
The only static point in the entire universe then is in human minds where we think we can attain some perfect state and hold it. Despite how much money we may someday win in lotto.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Gibson: Spook Country. Reviewed.
There's something very personal that happens when a beloved author puts out a book that just doesn't deliver. Betrayal. Hurt - right in the gut, a stabbing feeling halfway between your wings on the back.
Perhaps its due in part to the semiotic relationship of reader-engagement where we put in so much more than just the hours it takes to read, and sometimes it is the irrational and unfair hope that the author will continue to provide exactly the escape, antidote, passion or buzz that we've mainlined so many times before. I'm not working up into a rant here, just setting the scene for what is really hard to say.
William Gibson's new novel "Spook Country" is kinda dull and it's derivative.
It's not a great book, it's far from his best work.
It rehashes some good themes from his seminal early series, and patisches from his earlier pastiches (such as the nuanced "Pattern Recognition"). Okay - he's earned the right to coast along a little, and you can see it in the recent quote "I think reality these days is so much like a science-fiction novel. Now all I have to do is just import all that is around me into my novels."
Those are the words of a man who has lived to see his visions fulfilled. Visions that were scoffed by the mainstream, and are now that mainstreams own language. I sometimes wonder how George Orwell would have responded to our Noughties culture where political spin is what we call re-writing history, and we've had nearly a decade of entertainment from a show called Big Brother. Gibson *was* the voice of cyberpunk - go back and look at the Mirrorshades anthology (only in geek friends' libraries) and see what in the 80s we thought would be a wild future, and now Gibson is caught in a singularity.
"Spook Country" ought to have been bold, unsuspected, exciting. Instead it is Gibson-by-the-numbers, and misunderstood and badly packaged by his publishers. Why did Penguin ever take him onto their list? They have done nothing but misunderstand him and his audience since the atrocious handling of "Pattern Recognition" (was it two or three years between the hardcover selling out and the first paperback editions?!), and now it seems that they feel he'll sell better if his fans can't recognise him, and if crime readers mistake this for a thriller. There is no suspense in this book. None. There's barely even any crime (as most people would recognise it).
Gibson-by-the-numbers still has its moments of pleasure. His voice and cadence are unmistakeable, desirable and oft striven for. Here's a taste:
"Bigend stopped the car. A ball-capped guard in black uniform shorts and matching short-sleeved shirt regarded them from behind mirrored glasses. A laden, multicompartmented black holster was strapped to his right thigh.
She felt a sudden intense desire to get out of the Maybach, and acted on it.
The door opened like some disturbing hybrid of bank vault and Armani evening purse, perfectly balanced bombproof solidity meeting sheer cosmetic slickness. The gritty concrete floor, blotched with crumbs of gypsum, felt comforting in contrast. The guard gestured with a remote. She heard segmented steel start to rattle down behind them."
Classic. But if I just wanted classic Gibson, I'd re-read Neuromancer.
People change, the world moves on. As an ardent fan, I was looking forward to the new visions from Gibson. Frankly, I could do with some help dealing with this world, and in the past I've found many good tips and much solace in the worlds of SF. That this book didn't deliver owes some to my own idealistic hero-worship, but mostly to an author coasting on his (considerable) momentum.
Perhaps its due in part to the semiotic relationship of reader-engagement where we put in so much more than just the hours it takes to read, and sometimes it is the irrational and unfair hope that the author will continue to provide exactly the escape, antidote, passion or buzz that we've mainlined so many times before. I'm not working up into a rant here, just setting the scene for what is really hard to say.
William Gibson's new novel "Spook Country" is kinda dull and it's derivative.
It's not a great book, it's far from his best work.
It rehashes some good themes from his seminal early series, and patisches from his earlier pastiches (such as the nuanced "Pattern Recognition"). Okay - he's earned the right to coast along a little, and you can see it in the recent quote "I think reality these days is so much like a science-fiction novel. Now all I have to do is just import all that is around me into my novels."
Those are the words of a man who has lived to see his visions fulfilled. Visions that were scoffed by the mainstream, and are now that mainstreams own language. I sometimes wonder how George Orwell would have responded to our Noughties culture where political spin is what we call re-writing history, and we've had nearly a decade of entertainment from a show called Big Brother. Gibson *was* the voice of cyberpunk - go back and look at the Mirrorshades anthology (only in geek friends' libraries) and see what in the 80s we thought would be a wild future, and now Gibson is caught in a singularity.
"Spook Country" ought to have been bold, unsuspected, exciting. Instead it is Gibson-by-the-numbers, and misunderstood and badly packaged by his publishers. Why did Penguin ever take him onto their list? They have done nothing but misunderstand him and his audience since the atrocious handling of "Pattern Recognition" (was it two or three years between the hardcover selling out and the first paperback editions?!), and now it seems that they feel he'll sell better if his fans can't recognise him, and if crime readers mistake this for a thriller. There is no suspense in this book. None. There's barely even any crime (as most people would recognise it).
Gibson-by-the-numbers still has its moments of pleasure. His voice and cadence are unmistakeable, desirable and oft striven for. Here's a taste:
"Bigend stopped the car. A ball-capped guard in black uniform shorts and matching short-sleeved shirt regarded them from behind mirrored glasses. A laden, multicompartmented black holster was strapped to his right thigh.
She felt a sudden intense desire to get out of the Maybach, and acted on it.
The door opened like some disturbing hybrid of bank vault and Armani evening purse, perfectly balanced bombproof solidity meeting sheer cosmetic slickness. The gritty concrete floor, blotched with crumbs of gypsum, felt comforting in contrast. The guard gestured with a remote. She heard segmented steel start to rattle down behind them."
Classic. But if I just wanted classic Gibson, I'd re-read Neuromancer.
People change, the world moves on. As an ardent fan, I was looking forward to the new visions from Gibson. Frankly, I could do with some help dealing with this world, and in the past I've found many good tips and much solace in the worlds of SF. That this book didn't deliver owes some to my own idealistic hero-worship, but mostly to an author coasting on his (considerable) momentum.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Septuagenarian, Octogenarian, nine-a-genarian?
Grandad, recently returned from his tour of the USA, is turning 89 next week or so. Gloating on his good health last weekend, he was talking about what life might hold for him in his next decade.
He couldn't quite think of the word for being in one's nineties. He is a crossword fiend, so this was a shock. I sometimes consider myself ok with words, so I had a think about it, and realised that this is one of those words that I presume I know, but actually do not, have never, and worse, can't figure out.
Sure, we all know the others - but nine?!
No-one knew, and Grandad moved on from trying to think of the word to deal with more meaningful activities like planning his social calendar and working on his golf game. But it bugged me. This is a gap in the numbers! With an aging population, we *need* this word - it's going to have to do a lot more work for us! Someone needs to know! What if the only person in the world who knows how to refer to the ages between 90 and 99 in a single word dies of avian flu? I was driven to do something.
I went to the Oxford. Nine, ninety both there. Got distracted, read the whole column either side. No clues. Went to Septuagenarian, hoping they'd run against type and give the whole listing. Nope. Tried Octogenarian. Also there, also no clues.
Tap tap tap went my fingers on the cover of the book. Hhmmm.
'Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be stumped by this.' I thought. That clever bastard would just know, sure, but when Watson didn't know, he would prompt him, what would he say? What would he say......
AHA!
I went back and checked again - YES! Sept and Oct are both GREEK ROOTS, whereas nine is something else, something that doesn't work when you try and be clever with it. Ergo, my answer will be solved, if only I can think of the Greek word/root for nine!!!
Shame I don't know any Greek then, isn't it.
Still, isn't this exciting?!
Actually at this point, feeling like I'd done the hard yards by solving the process to the problem (if not the problem itself) I turned to those glorious tools (Google and Wikipedia) and within 0.12 seconds had over 2 millions listings for "greek nine", number one being "ennea-".
Of COURSE! the Enneagram. I should have remembered that!!!!!!!
What a dullard.
I read on - how fascinating the number nine is! Did you know that 9 It is the first composite lucky number? That 9 is the second non-unitary square prime (3^2)? That it has a unique aliquot sum σ(n) 4 which is itself a square prime? (all from wiki of course, I don't even understand what this says, and there's *lots* more where this came from!) .
Wow huh. I just like it because it's so round, and it's three lots of three, and three is the coolest number (apart from zero, which, it turns out, is considered an *even* number - what you can't learn off Wiki huh?) .
I digress.
There's still no actual answer to the question, except that now I could be 90% confident to guess it. Well, a guess isn't good enough when it's saturday night and I've already watched "Point Break" .... try enneagarian in the Oxford - not there. God how I hate having to work with this tiny thing! (the "Concise"- really!?) I put it into google "Do you mean Enneagram?" no, i do not. Damn! Perhaps I'm on the wrong track?! How long could this take? I do the old Enneagarian + dictionary search, and Google has given up on me! "Do you mean hungarian + Dictionary?"
ARGH!!
I'm going to have to wait until Monday when I can get to a proper dictionary!!!!!!
Don't you worry - I'm going to track this down!!
Wait, one last idea. Let me check something over at Wiki again....
Yes, Wiki listed a latin prefix as well - nono.
Could it be that we use Greek all the time, except this once?!
Oh yes, there it is : Nonogenerian.
Oxford, google, both agree, nonogenerian, not enneawhatever. I was using my brain and it was wrong.
*sigh*
On the upside, at least I'll have something to write in Grandad's birthday card next year!
He couldn't quite think of the word for being in one's nineties. He is a crossword fiend, so this was a shock. I sometimes consider myself ok with words, so I had a think about it, and realised that this is one of those words that I presume I know, but actually do not, have never, and worse, can't figure out.
Sure, we all know the others - but nine?!
No-one knew, and Grandad moved on from trying to think of the word to deal with more meaningful activities like planning his social calendar and working on his golf game. But it bugged me. This is a gap in the numbers! With an aging population, we *need* this word - it's going to have to do a lot more work for us! Someone needs to know! What if the only person in the world who knows how to refer to the ages between 90 and 99 in a single word dies of avian flu? I was driven to do something.
I went to the Oxford. Nine, ninety both there. Got distracted, read the whole column either side. No clues. Went to Septuagenarian, hoping they'd run against type and give the whole listing. Nope. Tried Octogenarian. Also there, also no clues.
Tap tap tap went my fingers on the cover of the book. Hhmmm.
'Sherlock Holmes wouldn't be stumped by this.' I thought. That clever bastard would just know, sure, but when Watson didn't know, he would prompt him, what would he say? What would he say......
AHA!
I went back and checked again - YES! Sept and Oct are both GREEK ROOTS, whereas nine is something else, something that doesn't work when you try and be clever with it. Ergo, my answer will be solved, if only I can think of the Greek word/root for nine!!!
Shame I don't know any Greek then, isn't it.
Still, isn't this exciting?!
Actually at this point, feeling like I'd done the hard yards by solving the process to the problem (if not the problem itself) I turned to those glorious tools (Google and Wikipedia) and within 0.12 seconds had over 2 millions listings for "greek nine", number one being "ennea-".
Of COURSE! the Enneagram. I should have remembered that!!!!!!!
What a dullard.
I read on - how fascinating the number nine is! Did you know that 9 It is the first composite lucky number? That 9 is the second non-unitary square prime (3^2)? That it has a unique aliquot sum σ(n) 4 which is itself a square prime? (all from wiki of course, I don't even understand what this says, and there's *lots* more where this came from!) .
Wow huh. I just like it because it's so round, and it's three lots of three, and three is the coolest number (apart from zero, which, it turns out, is considered an *even* number - what you can't learn off Wiki huh?) .
I digress.
There's still no actual answer to the question, except that now I could be 90% confident to guess it. Well, a guess isn't good enough when it's saturday night and I've already watched "Point Break" .... try enneagarian in the Oxford - not there. God how I hate having to work with this tiny thing! (the "Concise"- really!?) I put it into google "Do you mean Enneagram?" no, i do not. Damn! Perhaps I'm on the wrong track?! How long could this take? I do the old Enneagarian + dictionary search, and Google has given up on me! "Do you mean hungarian + Dictionary?"
ARGH!!
I'm going to have to wait until Monday when I can get to a proper dictionary!!!!!!
Don't you worry - I'm going to track this down!!
Wait, one last idea. Let me check something over at Wiki again....
Yes, Wiki listed a latin prefix as well - nono.
Could it be that we use Greek all the time, except this once?!
Oh yes, there it is : Nonogenerian.
Oxford, google, both agree, nonogenerian, not enneawhatever. I was using my brain and it was wrong.
*sigh*
On the upside, at least I'll have something to write in Grandad's birthday card next year!
Neil Gaiman: Gold Star Blogger
The man hisself has been to China recently, plenty of good posts about strange food etc, but this, this is pure gold:
http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/labels/giraffes.html
Still very excited about Stardust coming! Very very excited....
http://www.neilgaiman.com/journal/labels/giraffes.html
Still very excited about Stardust coming! Very very excited....
Spring Feelings
Some weeks are chockas aren't they. This week included going to see a touring production of "Educating Rita" starring someone from "McLeod's Daughters" and a guy from "All Saints" (ie. two pretty dodgy Australian TV series) and as suspected, it was a bit dodgy.
The woman sounded like Bubbles from Ab Fab, and couldn't even sustain that. Why bother?! Surely there's enough self-awareness to realise that you're doing a shit job and look around for some solutions - would've made obvious sense to do an Ocker rendition, and have her be a bogan. The light and sound production was pretty sloppy, but most people just seemed pleased to have a play to go to locally. We'll forgive a lot to miss out on the two-hour each way drive. I did enjoy myself anyway, a free ticket from a neighbour who works in the centre, and a chance to see who goes to what gets billed locally as "Live Theatre" ...isn't that a tautology? Like so many country things - it was packed with about 4 generations and came with the slight smell of mothballs. Anyway, the beer was cold, and the story was good, so I went with it and had a good time.
As part of the Boonah Arts Festival, there'll also be a "street spectacular" tonight - I'm looking forward to it. The whole region will probably be there - half in it, the other half cheering. I've invited my new nearly-friend who is a volunteer at the gallery, but as he lives in Ipswich, I'm not sure if he'll come. Once again, I expect to be carried by the sheer naive enthusiasm and open-hearted joy of the event rather than any special artistic or cultural vision. Hi-larious. Yes, I am mocking, but not with any venom. As part of my "bloom where you're planted" program I have come to appreciate many more things about this region - particularly as compared to Trash City. As our eccentricities here are accepted and valued, we do tend to live freely, and that is valuable to us day-to-day but also, it turns out, as a curiosity worthy of a day-trip from the city folk.
Ma & Pa's farm to us is a flawed home full of jobs half-done and living things that need tending so they can be eaten later. It is delineated by fences that have hugely important meanings in the eyes of the human laws but which are invisible and insignificant to the lay and the pulse of the land itself. The flows of it, the push of the sun and the pull of the water. This is the broader place that connects us into this tiny box of farm and why it is so very hard to leave in the tough times of drought or fire, because after a little while it owns you in a more permanent way than any contract ever could. When someone visits anywhere like here, anywhere a few hours away from concrete landscapes, the proximity to this power is revitalising. It gets called scenery, or quiet, but we know that it is more. An old more that we don't have a name for now.
Despite still being lonely here a lot of the time, I am actually saddened by the prospect now of going. This connection has been worth growing. Having had a few more days to think about things (since Ticking the Boxes) I can say to my sister "Yes, I am happy."
No matter what happens in the next phase of the plan, or the plan after (!) or what life throws in my path anyway, this has been a good thing to do. It's all ok.
The woman sounded like Bubbles from Ab Fab, and couldn't even sustain that. Why bother?! Surely there's enough self-awareness to realise that you're doing a shit job and look around for some solutions - would've made obvious sense to do an Ocker rendition, and have her be a bogan. The light and sound production was pretty sloppy, but most people just seemed pleased to have a play to go to locally. We'll forgive a lot to miss out on the two-hour each way drive. I did enjoy myself anyway, a free ticket from a neighbour who works in the centre, and a chance to see who goes to what gets billed locally as "Live Theatre" ...isn't that a tautology? Like so many country things - it was packed with about 4 generations and came with the slight smell of mothballs. Anyway, the beer was cold, and the story was good, so I went with it and had a good time.
As part of the Boonah Arts Festival, there'll also be a "street spectacular" tonight - I'm looking forward to it. The whole region will probably be there - half in it, the other half cheering. I've invited my new nearly-friend who is a volunteer at the gallery, but as he lives in Ipswich, I'm not sure if he'll come. Once again, I expect to be carried by the sheer naive enthusiasm and open-hearted joy of the event rather than any special artistic or cultural vision. Hi-larious. Yes, I am mocking, but not with any venom. As part of my "bloom where you're planted" program I have come to appreciate many more things about this region - particularly as compared to Trash City. As our eccentricities here are accepted and valued, we do tend to live freely, and that is valuable to us day-to-day but also, it turns out, as a curiosity worthy of a day-trip from the city folk.
Ma & Pa's farm to us is a flawed home full of jobs half-done and living things that need tending so they can be eaten later. It is delineated by fences that have hugely important meanings in the eyes of the human laws but which are invisible and insignificant to the lay and the pulse of the land itself. The flows of it, the push of the sun and the pull of the water. This is the broader place that connects us into this tiny box of farm and why it is so very hard to leave in the tough times of drought or fire, because after a little while it owns you in a more permanent way than any contract ever could. When someone visits anywhere like here, anywhere a few hours away from concrete landscapes, the proximity to this power is revitalising. It gets called scenery, or quiet, but we know that it is more. An old more that we don't have a name for now.
Despite still being lonely here a lot of the time, I am actually saddened by the prospect now of going. This connection has been worth growing. Having had a few more days to think about things (since Ticking the Boxes) I can say to my sister "Yes, I am happy."
No matter what happens in the next phase of the plan, or the plan after (!) or what life throws in my path anyway, this has been a good thing to do. It's all ok.
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Dukkah Thief
A terse moment last night when I got home to the farm.
Mum had made up a batch of Dukkah over the weekend and bottled all she could, leaving the remainder (perhaps just under half) on the bench covered in cling wrap. She sells it at the markets, it's a brilliant accompaniment to the olives/ olive oil/ fresh bread nexus. Very tasty, I recommend it highly.
But it was no longer there.
It had been eaten.
Fingers were pointed, pretty pointedly, at Riley.
"Smell his breath!" Mother insisted. I did, and it smelt doggy. Not Egyptian-doggy, just plain meaty-doggy.
"Are you sure it wasn't Bonnie?" I asked, as after all - she's the main bin diver and cat food filcher and as a border collie she's got the mass to handle a half kilo of retail-grade dukkah, whereas that's a significant proportion of Riley's body weight, and he's been sick from eating a tablespoon of Chicken fat just two nights ago (illicitly supplied by mother I may add, who initially denied the charge!).
"She would have left more mess." was Mother's lame defence.
"Very circumstantial. Flimsy even." I retorted and the cold wall went up.
This morning, going to let the farm dogs out, I found a stash of items from yesterday’s garbage bin – classic Bonnie MO.
Circumstanial evidence indeed, but pointedly pointing away from my darling and innocent Riley.
Mum had made up a batch of Dukkah over the weekend and bottled all she could, leaving the remainder (perhaps just under half) on the bench covered in cling wrap. She sells it at the markets, it's a brilliant accompaniment to the olives/ olive oil/ fresh bread nexus. Very tasty, I recommend it highly.
But it was no longer there.
It had been eaten.
Fingers were pointed, pretty pointedly, at Riley.
"Smell his breath!" Mother insisted. I did, and it smelt doggy. Not Egyptian-doggy, just plain meaty-doggy.
"Are you sure it wasn't Bonnie?" I asked, as after all - she's the main bin diver and cat food filcher and as a border collie she's got the mass to handle a half kilo of retail-grade dukkah, whereas that's a significant proportion of Riley's body weight, and he's been sick from eating a tablespoon of Chicken fat just two nights ago (illicitly supplied by mother I may add, who initially denied the charge!).
"She would have left more mess." was Mother's lame defence.
"Very circumstantial. Flimsy even." I retorted and the cold wall went up.
This morning, going to let the farm dogs out, I found a stash of items from yesterday’s garbage bin – classic Bonnie MO.
Circumstanial evidence indeed, but pointedly pointing away from my darling and innocent Riley.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Ticking all the boxes
Valuing creativity doesn't mean devaluing structure.
It's taken a lifetime to come to this realisation. Structure is my friend. Sure, we're not always on speaking terms, but there's a great deal to be said for having a plan and sticking to it. I mean a plan in the big sense - not some rigid schedule. A set of guidelines that will eventually get me to where I want to go. Making the decision about where that would be was a lot harder than getting underway. In fact, I realise how we can get underway almost by accident. I tend to distract myself easily enough, let alone with the odd invitation here or there.
It's hard to listen to any business person (or other type of person who's been corporatised) without hearing "the bottom line." It used to be hard-hitting and now it's almost meaningless jargon from people who are trying to distract you from the real question you asked.
So when my sis asked me last night "Are you happy?" I honestly couldn't answer.
I am dizzy, busy and relentlessly sticking to my plan. A part of me remembers thinking for a long time about the plan and deciding it would be the best thing to do in the long run, and would require adult-like sacrifices in the short term. Events seem to be proceeding in line with the roughed-out direction, so that is good.
When all I could say to her was "I'm ticking all the boxes." We both knew that this was enough for now.
It's taken a lifetime to come to this realisation. Structure is my friend. Sure, we're not always on speaking terms, but there's a great deal to be said for having a plan and sticking to it. I mean a plan in the big sense - not some rigid schedule. A set of guidelines that will eventually get me to where I want to go. Making the decision about where that would be was a lot harder than getting underway. In fact, I realise how we can get underway almost by accident. I tend to distract myself easily enough, let alone with the odd invitation here or there.
It's hard to listen to any business person (or other type of person who's been corporatised) without hearing "the bottom line." It used to be hard-hitting and now it's almost meaningless jargon from people who are trying to distract you from the real question you asked.
So when my sis asked me last night "Are you happy?" I honestly couldn't answer.
I am dizzy, busy and relentlessly sticking to my plan. A part of me remembers thinking for a long time about the plan and deciding it would be the best thing to do in the long run, and would require adult-like sacrifices in the short term. Events seem to be proceeding in line with the roughed-out direction, so that is good.
When all I could say to her was "I'm ticking all the boxes." We both knew that this was enough for now.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Going Share-sies with a bank
The urge to have a backyard is very strong. Many of my daydreams have been about playing in the dirt with the radio on in the background. Mabye watching the dog sniff at things and interact with the world. Some have been about painting walls with strange colours or murals without regards for bond money.
Well, all these dreams have faded into the background as I learn about contracts and percentage points and fine-print and signing things. The business of buying a box of one's own is unpleasant, has many steps and costs large amounts of money. So large in fact that a bank or other institution will play a large role in the process for the next 30 years.
As someone who was never convinced I would make it to thirty, I never expected to have a mortgage of my own. Every year since that time has been something of a surprise, and as they seem to be ticking around pretty regularly now, I thought I'd hedge my bets and see if I could get a box of my own.
So on saturday I offered a lady some money for a house, and she said yes. It still feels pretty hypothetical, given that I don't have that money, but I now have three weeks to find it. I like the idea that I'll find it - possibly under a cauliflower in the vege patch I guess.
Well, all these dreams have faded into the background as I learn about contracts and percentage points and fine-print and signing things. The business of buying a box of one's own is unpleasant, has many steps and costs large amounts of money. So large in fact that a bank or other institution will play a large role in the process for the next 30 years.
As someone who was never convinced I would make it to thirty, I never expected to have a mortgage of my own. Every year since that time has been something of a surprise, and as they seem to be ticking around pretty regularly now, I thought I'd hedge my bets and see if I could get a box of my own.
So on saturday I offered a lady some money for a house, and she said yes. It still feels pretty hypothetical, given that I don't have that money, but I now have three weeks to find it. I like the idea that I'll find it - possibly under a cauliflower in the vege patch I guess.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Bucolic Idyll
Glorious sweetness of a day at home.
Woke without the alarm at 6 and heard the birds rustling each other into action within the soft, sweet silence that a large, mostly calm space makes.
Re awoke at 8 to the full chorus, callback and conversations of the crows, magpies, and all the other smaller ones that I can't quite see. Wandered out and made a coffee, went to check on the tomato seedlings - they're strong and perfect to plant out today. The big wattle tree by the front porch is in full bloom and heavy with labouring bees. I love that tree. So shady in summer and nondescript most of the time until this late August type time - when ka-pow - out with the enormous golden sprays of tiny fluffy pollen balls.
Took the coffee over to watch mum walk back from the top of the oats, where she'd been checking on a new calf. We're up to nine now, and they're a little smaller from the tough season, but perfectly formed and cheerful like baby animals with their mothers always are. The few good days of rain last week has come over our land like a kiss. We've blushed green.
My Grandad has arrived to stay with us for the weekend. He's just come back from about 4 weeks in America and he's bubbling with stories and amazement. He's been a long time without going everywhere, and he's sprightly and enlivened with all that he has seen, and the chance to spend such time with another branch of our family.
Riley is beside himself that we're all at home today and has been running like a running-fool, pausing only to wrestle Zac to the ground. Zac is grown into a large cat now, not quite fat, but very heavy and soft. To see this blob of ginger and white on his back passively getting choked by the tiny frantic terrier is hilarious... even when with his little tongue out he *really* is choking. I think he may be a little bit Michael Hutchence about the choking thing, and I am curious to see how far he would let it go before he pushed even a little bit back at Riley. The curious me would let it run it's course .... but the idea of facing ma and pa with an expired cat and a confused dog always tips me back into action.
"Enough Riley!"
Tonight is the launch of the Boonah Arts Festival. Ma and I will go, and I'm quite looking forward to it. Boonah embraces anyone who has a crack at something arty. It makes for what arts people call a "varied" or "mixed" show (ie they look down on it) but as a member of this community, I love the inclusiveness and fun of it. Should be a hoot tonight. May have to wear a scarf darling ....
Woke without the alarm at 6 and heard the birds rustling each other into action within the soft, sweet silence that a large, mostly calm space makes.
Re awoke at 8 to the full chorus, callback and conversations of the crows, magpies, and all the other smaller ones that I can't quite see. Wandered out and made a coffee, went to check on the tomato seedlings - they're strong and perfect to plant out today. The big wattle tree by the front porch is in full bloom and heavy with labouring bees. I love that tree. So shady in summer and nondescript most of the time until this late August type time - when ka-pow - out with the enormous golden sprays of tiny fluffy pollen balls.
Took the coffee over to watch mum walk back from the top of the oats, where she'd been checking on a new calf. We're up to nine now, and they're a little smaller from the tough season, but perfectly formed and cheerful like baby animals with their mothers always are. The few good days of rain last week has come over our land like a kiss. We've blushed green.
My Grandad has arrived to stay with us for the weekend. He's just come back from about 4 weeks in America and he's bubbling with stories and amazement. He's been a long time without going everywhere, and he's sprightly and enlivened with all that he has seen, and the chance to spend such time with another branch of our family.
Riley is beside himself that we're all at home today and has been running like a running-fool, pausing only to wrestle Zac to the ground. Zac is grown into a large cat now, not quite fat, but very heavy and soft. To see this blob of ginger and white on his back passively getting choked by the tiny frantic terrier is hilarious... even when with his little tongue out he *really* is choking. I think he may be a little bit Michael Hutchence about the choking thing, and I am curious to see how far he would let it go before he pushed even a little bit back at Riley. The curious me would let it run it's course .... but the idea of facing ma and pa with an expired cat and a confused dog always tips me back into action.
"Enough Riley!"
Tonight is the launch of the Boonah Arts Festival. Ma and I will go, and I'm quite looking forward to it. Boonah embraces anyone who has a crack at something arty. It makes for what arts people call a "varied" or "mixed" show (ie they look down on it) but as a member of this community, I love the inclusiveness and fun of it. Should be a hoot tonight. May have to wear a scarf darling ....
Friday, August 31, 2007
Another great quote
'I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.'
Jorge Luis Borges
(Thanks for sending this over LN!)
Jorge Luis Borges
(Thanks for sending this over LN!)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Word of the Day: Sesquipedalian
Sesquipedalian
1. A person or thing a foot and a half high or long.
2.a. Of a word - polysyllabic
b. Characterised by long words; tending to be lengthy or ponderous in speech
(thank you The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 4th Ed, Vol 2, pg 2791)
1. A person or thing a foot and a half high or long.
2.a. Of a word - polysyllabic
b. Characterised by long words; tending to be lengthy or ponderous in speech
(thank you The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 4th Ed, Vol 2, pg 2791)
Work Intranet Weirdness #2
Once again the intranet E-bay has got a corker:
For Sale - Into Creepy Crawlies? SNAKES For Sale
3 Adult Coastal Carpet Pythons, Easy breeders. also 2 adult male spotted pythons. Various fully equiped large cages also available, with lights all wired up. Licence required. Contact Nicole via email. Thanks.
Price: $Various
For Sale - Into Creepy Crawlies? SNAKES For Sale
3 Adult Coastal Carpet Pythons, Easy breeders. also 2 adult male spotted pythons. Various fully equiped large cages also available, with lights all wired up. Licence required. Contact Nicole via email. Thanks.
Price: $Various
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Cory Doctorow Speaks Sense at Melb Writers' Fest
In a session called "Free and Easy" Cory Doctorow did his best to share his knowledge and insights to a motivated and interested audience through the obstacles of Charles Firth's ignorance and bull-headedness. There was also an annoying woman MC who added no value to the proceedings (sorry whoever you are, but you should have just given the man the stage and stayed out of the way) particularly given that the topic was about copyright, reproduction and making a living in the digital age.
I'll own up right away - I haven't read anything about him or by him. I didn't know he had his own wiki page (which he does) I just knew that I'd shelved his books a *lot* at kino and here he would be talking about making a living but giving away copies of his books for free on-line. It's true - they're available under the creative commons right there at the bottom of his wiki entry.
The Melb WritFest (MWF now, ok) have this weird thing going where they charge you to go to nearly any session!? What the!? When you've flown 2000kloms to get to it, and then had a closer look at the fine print, this feels like a rude shock. I know $20 isn't much in the context of the flight and travel costs and everything, but it seemed weird on principle. Having said that, if I could have paid more to just get an hour of download & QA from Cory (sans the interruptions) it would have re-wired my brain.
Enough gum flapping.
(there's a lot of paraphrasing here - my notes are shot, don't blame him for any crappy expression.)
He opened with a short take on the information economy - what is it really - in little ways it's people finding a plumber on google, or using a satnav to find the airport, or Facebook to choose a restaurant. These are the meaningful, personal ways that the information economy has started to become a reality. Reality is always messier than the theory expects it will be. Bits of stuff have value and cost cash but bytes of stuff flow around protection. Pirated movies anybody? The economy for a while (about 70 years) has been predicated on controlling the copies and being able to sell them, and as we all know, this system is flailing about right now. Cory drew an interesting line to the resurgence of the vaudeville model - where the "charismatic" performer takes the stage and access to the event is controlled and a dollar is charged at the door. Those same people who about 70 years ago got told to stop touring and produce records - which would do all the touring for them. (I hope he got a decent cut of the $20 I paid to see him then!).
Creative types still need to put bread in the toaster and kibble in the bowl - so what is there to sustain them if all the copies are free?
How does the rent get paid?!
Well, for Cory Doctorow, the rent gets paid for by (leaving other speculations aside) people buying copies of his books. People buying copies of the same books that are available for free on the web. Free books with no encryption, no time-outs, no dodgy sample chapter set up. Whole texts. Buying, with actual cash.
Here's how this works in his own words:
"Most people who download the book don't end up buying it, but they wouldn’t have bought it in any event, so I haven’t lost any sales, I’ve just won an audience. A tiny minority of downloaders treat the free e-book as a substitute for the printed book--those are the lost sales. But a much larger minority treat the e-book as an enticement to buy the printed book. They're gained sales." (Read the whole article).
Anyone who's worked in sales or a bookstore or ever just been honest about their own buying habits is going to get that line of reasoning right away. Charles Firth didn't. (That's the last time I'll mention him. No need for my pain to be your pain).
But we're in SF world. A *special* world.
Cory again (from the same Forbes article)
"How did I talk Tor Books into letting me do this? It's not as if Tor is a spunky dotcom upstart. They're the largest science fiction publisher in the world, and they're a division of the German publishing giant Holtzbrinck. They're not patchouli-scented info-hippies who believe that information wants to be free. Rather, they’re canny assessors of the world of science fiction, perhaps the most social of all literary genres. Science fiction is driven by organized fandom, volunteers who put on hundreds of literary conventions in every corner of the globe, every weekend of the year. These intrepid promoters treat books as markers of identity and as cultural artifacts of great import."
Yeah! But what about books that aren't SF? What do you with your future-dude glasses see for the daggy, non SF writers and this on-line world. I love SF, but my attempts to write it have always been lame. I can write other stuff though - how can I pay the rent? Google ads? Is that my best option?
The long tail takes a long time - I'd like to earn some money in my lifetime. Sure, the value (be that entertainment, education, whatever) of the work is the longer-term purpose, but the day to day of spending my hours toiling in a job for someone else is the issue.
I think that was going to be his next point though ... that the long tail does take a long time (the great enemy is obscurity) and that free distribution escalates finding your audience. It also begins to create a market for you the writer. Yeah you. What is writing after all but one of the ways that you put your thoughts into an order and have them tussle each other? You'll have to deal with the idea that your writing might lead you to blogging, or talking or teaching or being interviewed by Forbes Magazine.
The session kinda deteriorated towards the end, but apart from the content that I have tried to capture pretty faithfully above, the best thing I got out of this was inspiration. I sat afterwards and watched probably 20 people line up and buy one (or more) of his books and get them signed. Ka-Ching! But we all know how lush it is to hold a book, and feel the grain of the paper, and when you've stood in the line and had it signed - well - it's special. Even for the person who eventually buys it on Ebay.
We buy the books we love - that's the new model. I expect the luxe-model Hardcover to emerge soon and be a hit - but only for titles that have proved themselves in the tail. Remember how gob-smacked we were when DaVinci Code came out - after 4 years in the large format illustrated hardcover - and had another spike?! Well that's a taste of things to come.
Books that earn their chops will find a place on the shelf rather than the harddrive.
It was inspiring because he was totally credible. This wasn't some suit-monkey sprouting shit from an online MBA. Authentic reporting from the frontline. I'm grateful to him for kicking me over into thinking about my own life and my own creativity within the context of post-scarcity economics.
In short then, a really great session. Plus, I was so wired from it that I got talking to someone else from the session (Melbourne is so friendly, in Sydney she would have called security) and learnt a whole lot more again. Hopefully as I return into this mundane orbit, loads of it will stay with me and the dream will keep breathing.
I'll own up right away - I haven't read anything about him or by him. I didn't know he had his own wiki page (which he does) I just knew that I'd shelved his books a *lot* at kino and here he would be talking about making a living but giving away copies of his books for free on-line. It's true - they're available under the creative commons right there at the bottom of his wiki entry.
The Melb WritFest (MWF now, ok) have this weird thing going where they charge you to go to nearly any session!? What the!? When you've flown 2000kloms to get to it, and then had a closer look at the fine print, this feels like a rude shock. I know $20 isn't much in the context of the flight and travel costs and everything, but it seemed weird on principle. Having said that, if I could have paid more to just get an hour of download & QA from Cory (sans the interruptions) it would have re-wired my brain.
Enough gum flapping.
(there's a lot of paraphrasing here - my notes are shot, don't blame him for any crappy expression.)
He opened with a short take on the information economy - what is it really - in little ways it's people finding a plumber on google, or using a satnav to find the airport, or Facebook to choose a restaurant. These are the meaningful, personal ways that the information economy has started to become a reality. Reality is always messier than the theory expects it will be. Bits of stuff have value and cost cash but bytes of stuff flow around protection. Pirated movies anybody? The economy for a while (about 70 years) has been predicated on controlling the copies and being able to sell them, and as we all know, this system is flailing about right now. Cory drew an interesting line to the resurgence of the vaudeville model - where the "charismatic" performer takes the stage and access to the event is controlled and a dollar is charged at the door. Those same people who about 70 years ago got told to stop touring and produce records - which would do all the touring for them. (I hope he got a decent cut of the $20 I paid to see him then!).
Creative types still need to put bread in the toaster and kibble in the bowl - so what is there to sustain them if all the copies are free?
How does the rent get paid?!
Well, for Cory Doctorow, the rent gets paid for by (leaving other speculations aside) people buying copies of his books. People buying copies of the same books that are available for free on the web. Free books with no encryption, no time-outs, no dodgy sample chapter set up. Whole texts. Buying, with actual cash.
Here's how this works in his own words:
"Most people who download the book don't end up buying it, but they wouldn’t have bought it in any event, so I haven’t lost any sales, I’ve just won an audience. A tiny minority of downloaders treat the free e-book as a substitute for the printed book--those are the lost sales. But a much larger minority treat the e-book as an enticement to buy the printed book. They're gained sales." (Read the whole article).
Anyone who's worked in sales or a bookstore or ever just been honest about their own buying habits is going to get that line of reasoning right away. Charles Firth didn't. (That's the last time I'll mention him. No need for my pain to be your pain).
But we're in SF world. A *special* world.
Cory again (from the same Forbes article)
"How did I talk Tor Books into letting me do this? It's not as if Tor is a spunky dotcom upstart. They're the largest science fiction publisher in the world, and they're a division of the German publishing giant Holtzbrinck. They're not patchouli-scented info-hippies who believe that information wants to be free. Rather, they’re canny assessors of the world of science fiction, perhaps the most social of all literary genres. Science fiction is driven by organized fandom, volunteers who put on hundreds of literary conventions in every corner of the globe, every weekend of the year. These intrepid promoters treat books as markers of identity and as cultural artifacts of great import."
Yeah! But what about books that aren't SF? What do you with your future-dude glasses see for the daggy, non SF writers and this on-line world. I love SF, but my attempts to write it have always been lame. I can write other stuff though - how can I pay the rent? Google ads? Is that my best option?
The long tail takes a long time - I'd like to earn some money in my lifetime. Sure, the value (be that entertainment, education, whatever) of the work is the longer-term purpose, but the day to day of spending my hours toiling in a job for someone else is the issue.
I think that was going to be his next point though ... that the long tail does take a long time (the great enemy is obscurity) and that free distribution escalates finding your audience. It also begins to create a market for you the writer. Yeah you. What is writing after all but one of the ways that you put your thoughts into an order and have them tussle each other? You'll have to deal with the idea that your writing might lead you to blogging, or talking or teaching or being interviewed by Forbes Magazine.
The session kinda deteriorated towards the end, but apart from the content that I have tried to capture pretty faithfully above, the best thing I got out of this was inspiration. I sat afterwards and watched probably 20 people line up and buy one (or more) of his books and get them signed. Ka-Ching! But we all know how lush it is to hold a book, and feel the grain of the paper, and when you've stood in the line and had it signed - well - it's special. Even for the person who eventually buys it on Ebay.
We buy the books we love - that's the new model. I expect the luxe-model Hardcover to emerge soon and be a hit - but only for titles that have proved themselves in the tail. Remember how gob-smacked we were when DaVinci Code came out - after 4 years in the large format illustrated hardcover - and had another spike?! Well that's a taste of things to come.
Books that earn their chops will find a place on the shelf rather than the harddrive.
It was inspiring because he was totally credible. This wasn't some suit-monkey sprouting shit from an online MBA. Authentic reporting from the frontline. I'm grateful to him for kicking me over into thinking about my own life and my own creativity within the context of post-scarcity economics.
In short then, a really great session. Plus, I was so wired from it that I got talking to someone else from the session (Melbourne is so friendly, in Sydney she would have called security) and learnt a whole lot more again. Hopefully as I return into this mundane orbit, loads of it will stay with me and the dream will keep breathing.
Facebook Ate my Life
Two hours I've just spent on there.
Gibson help me.
I can't believe that it is that distracting - the toys! The pirates! the endless movie reviews.
I learnt something important tonight. I can't help but have an opinion on far too many things, and this is not good for me.
Do you know there are people who are using this tool for thinking !? For building better communities and sharing knowledge. Damn them! How do they do that!?
Let me try and find my train of thought again ....
Gibson help me.
I can't believe that it is that distracting - the toys! The pirates! the endless movie reviews.
I learnt something important tonight. I can't help but have an opinion on far too many things, and this is not good for me.
Do you know there are people who are using this tool for thinking !? For building better communities and sharing knowledge. Damn them! How do they do that!?
Let me try and find my train of thought again ....
Monday, August 27, 2007
All good things must come to an end
There's been Dave Eggers and Cory Doctorow at the writers' fest, art art art, and Oh the cake!!
What a brilliant trip. It's not quite over yet, flying out this arvo, but I certainly haven't finished rolling around everything I've seen and done. Isn' that the brilliant thing about travel - turns you upside down and shakes everything about.
What a brilliant trip. It's not quite over yet, flying out this arvo, but I certainly haven't finished rolling around everything I've seen and done. Isn' that the brilliant thing about travel - turns you upside down and shakes everything about.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Glorious Melbournia!
oh arduous journey!
Up at o-dark-hundred and manymany hours later ere I am... winding down the the lovely frabulous Allan, snuggled up with puppies, to the soundtrack of snoring form the couch (not me this time - I may have snored on the plane...) after a GIANT dinner in a great Vietnamese place in Fitzroy (which, sadly, out of habit, we inadvertently referred to as Thai on three separate occasions... oops... very understanding people, Vietnamese restaurant staff).
Anyway, I digress.
By several thousand kilometers this time, and what a world of good it's doing me. I feel younger, more interesting, stimulated, hopeful (but no thinner - how many bottles of wine got "knocked over" tonight?). Ah.
On the walk to the dinner-food-place we passed art stores, and bookstores, and a hat store, and a vegans place and and and! It was just great.
I am so grateful (as always) to Allan and Craig's generosity in letting me make their palatial home a bit messy in one corner - (Lee - listening?) so many great friends who have all invested very wisely in very expensive and well upholstered couches. Life is good.
Well tomorrow, I hope to catch up with a long-lost uni buddy who I have gotten back in touch with through FACEBOOK. Yes, after all that stupid ranting, it has borne tasty fruit immediately. I welcome our new robot overlords.
Over dinner we had a big chat about the possible Orwellian horrors of Google morphing all it knows about our dirty secret searches and face book accounts and dodgy second email setups (et al) and what kind of a future will it be when Bush and Howard merge it all into one database! Frankly, i just kinda feel sorry for the poor Level 2 temp who'll have to wade through the morass of shit i pump out on a nearly daily basis (The Eagle Has Landed) and try and figure out of I'm a terrorist (for the Chaser), a try-hard wannabe, or just a garden variety nutbar. Yay. Bring it on.
Okeydokey, enjoy the rain, culture, movies, bed - where ever you are, whatever you're doing - I'm sending you mellow vibes of goodness.
Love
J9
Up at o-dark-hundred and manymany hours later ere I am... winding down the the lovely frabulous Allan, snuggled up with puppies, to the soundtrack of snoring form the couch (not me this time - I may have snored on the plane...) after a GIANT dinner in a great Vietnamese place in Fitzroy (which, sadly, out of habit, we inadvertently referred to as Thai on three separate occasions... oops... very understanding people, Vietnamese restaurant staff).
Anyway, I digress.
By several thousand kilometers this time, and what a world of good it's doing me. I feel younger, more interesting, stimulated, hopeful (but no thinner - how many bottles of wine got "knocked over" tonight?). Ah.
On the walk to the dinner-food-place we passed art stores, and bookstores, and a hat store, and a vegans place and and and! It was just great.
I am so grateful (as always) to Allan and Craig's generosity in letting me make their palatial home a bit messy in one corner - (Lee - listening?) so many great friends who have all invested very wisely in very expensive and well upholstered couches. Life is good.
Well tomorrow, I hope to catch up with a long-lost uni buddy who I have gotten back in touch with through FACEBOOK. Yes, after all that stupid ranting, it has borne tasty fruit immediately. I welcome our new robot overlords.
Over dinner we had a big chat about the possible Orwellian horrors of Google morphing all it knows about our dirty secret searches and face book accounts and dodgy second email setups (et al) and what kind of a future will it be when Bush and Howard merge it all into one database! Frankly, i just kinda feel sorry for the poor Level 2 temp who'll have to wade through the morass of shit i pump out on a nearly daily basis (The Eagle Has Landed) and try and figure out of I'm a terrorist (for the Chaser), a try-hard wannabe, or just a garden variety nutbar. Yay. Bring it on.
Okeydokey, enjoy the rain, culture, movies, bed - where ever you are, whatever you're doing - I'm sending you mellow vibes of goodness.
Love
J9
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Extreme Wind Warning
Despite the news talking-up this "severe low off the east coast" (another emo joke on the way?) and the big news that the beaches have been closed (OMG!! REALLY?!?!?!?!?! - yes, that's the Queensland mindset for you) we can all breathe easy - the planes are still flying.
The planned orbital mission to the great and enticing planet of Melbournia is now only hours away! Still in double digits, sure, but hours. One sleep.
Like all deprived children, I am counting on this trip to solve all my problems and make me a shiny, happy person again.
hahahahahaaa.
I've gotta go pack.
The planned orbital mission to the great and enticing planet of Melbournia is now only hours away! Still in double digits, sure, but hours. One sleep.
Like all deprived children, I am counting on this trip to solve all my problems and make me a shiny, happy person again.
hahahahahaaa.
I've gotta go pack.
Caved
I've lasted less than a week.
Yes, Facebook has another member.
I can't believe how many of you are already on it!
Will it all become clear? Is there a real point - maybe like all newbies I've accidentally navigated into a corner and am starting a a blank wall going, "i don't get it...".
Anyway, no gloating please.
Yes, Facebook has another member.
I can't believe how many of you are already on it!
Will it all become clear? Is there a real point - maybe like all newbies I've accidentally navigated into a corner and am starting a a blank wall going, "i don't get it...".
Anyway, no gloating please.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
By the Numbers
The last few days have been "doing it by the numbers" - structure and habit can really do the heavy lifting sometimes.
Get to work, even log-on and start responding to the dripping water-torture of email and not until the second cuppa realise that another day is well underway.
Nightmares the last two days have alleviated the stress and boredom of work. Very graphic dreams about murdering endless numbers of faceless people with my favourite kitchen knife, interspersed with grappling armed gunmen for survival does tend to make fretting about website copy sign-offs processes seem less intense.
Need I say that I am very much looking forward to a long weekend off interstate?! Off to embrace the delights of Melbourne and a long-overdue visit to see my beloved cousin.
The amount of writing at work seems to have decreased a lot in the last few weeks. Perhaps it is seasonal as is our publishing schedule. The other managers seem reticent to get me to draft things, and unwilling to change to a more chirpy/sales like patter. Hence our bookings remain low, responses to our ads are poor, and we get more of the same (mediocre) outcomes. This is actually a win because poor as it all seems to me - apparently this is better than how things were before. A little dispiriting.
Get to work, even log-on and start responding to the dripping water-torture of email and not until the second cuppa realise that another day is well underway.
Nightmares the last two days have alleviated the stress and boredom of work. Very graphic dreams about murdering endless numbers of faceless people with my favourite kitchen knife, interspersed with grappling armed gunmen for survival does tend to make fretting about website copy sign-offs processes seem less intense.
Need I say that I am very much looking forward to a long weekend off interstate?! Off to embrace the delights of Melbourne and a long-overdue visit to see my beloved cousin.
The amount of writing at work seems to have decreased a lot in the last few weeks. Perhaps it is seasonal as is our publishing schedule. The other managers seem reticent to get me to draft things, and unwilling to change to a more chirpy/sales like patter. Hence our bookings remain low, responses to our ads are poor, and we get more of the same (mediocre) outcomes. This is actually a win because poor as it all seems to me - apparently this is better than how things were before. A little dispiriting.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Peer Pressure
It seems having a blog is no longer enough to sate the digital connection-lust. First it was email, then a mobile, then a website (that passed thankfully), blueberries, blackberries, I skipped the avatar thing altogether, but I hear it's bigger than toothpaste, Ipods, then blogs, and now already a facebook. Well I'm not convinced. I was never able to delete that stupid orkut thing which is still sitting out there somewhere like a fridge turned off and gone bad. Hermetically sealed yet full of things long transformed from wholesome fun into evil sludge.
Sure, it's all good intentions.
Sure, it's all meant to help people stay connected and feel the love.
All great things.
But how many of these are we each serving? Got a personal email and a work one? Got a personal phone and a work one? Got a blog (or two or more for each of your idea sets, friend sets, forays into an alternate identity)? Yeah, you probably do. Got a pile of books you haven't read? Don't remember the last time you lay under a tree and watched clouds? Went somewhere or visited someone *spontaneously*?
Time time time time.
So very valuable, so unique and slippery like a tongue. Time. I want to spend less time with things that are electric and more time with things that are organic. Simple rule - hard to implement. And obviously the immediate response is that all these tools assist in process of the goal and sometimes the outcome. I am a late-adopter, that's cool by me. I am behind the curve and hard to convince. I am often wrong too, but I am at least also (largely) honest. I am barely writing, am barely regular with this little tool, am slack at returning emails, and am hard to reach by phone. Moody, irregular and difficult. Very loving and loyal, sure, but what I'm saying is that I know I'm not up to it. Parts of the world are passing me by (avatars!) and even though I think they're way cool (just like in Snow Crash!) I've got to draw a line - a line of reality - I can't do everything. In fact, turns out I can't do most things. This was never clear to me in my 20s.
I am hoping that although it is now very clear to me, it won't be the restriction is initially sounded like - and a liberation to do the few things that I can do, very well and with a lot of joy.
Another simple goal that could take a lifetime (and make a life worth living in the process).
Love youse all, but it's going to have to be my way.
Sure, it's all good intentions.
Sure, it's all meant to help people stay connected and feel the love.
All great things.
But how many of these are we each serving? Got a personal email and a work one? Got a personal phone and a work one? Got a blog (or two or more for each of your idea sets, friend sets, forays into an alternate identity)? Yeah, you probably do. Got a pile of books you haven't read? Don't remember the last time you lay under a tree and watched clouds? Went somewhere or visited someone *spontaneously*?
Time time time time.
So very valuable, so unique and slippery like a tongue. Time. I want to spend less time with things that are electric and more time with things that are organic. Simple rule - hard to implement. And obviously the immediate response is that all these tools assist in process of the goal and sometimes the outcome. I am a late-adopter, that's cool by me. I am behind the curve and hard to convince. I am often wrong too, but I am at least also (largely) honest. I am barely writing, am barely regular with this little tool, am slack at returning emails, and am hard to reach by phone. Moody, irregular and difficult. Very loving and loyal, sure, but what I'm saying is that I know I'm not up to it. Parts of the world are passing me by (avatars!) and even though I think they're way cool (just like in Snow Crash!) I've got to draw a line - a line of reality - I can't do everything. In fact, turns out I can't do most things. This was never clear to me in my 20s.
I am hoping that although it is now very clear to me, it won't be the restriction is initially sounded like - and a liberation to do the few things that I can do, very well and with a lot of joy.
Another simple goal that could take a lifetime (and make a life worth living in the process).
Love youse all, but it's going to have to be my way.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Happy Birfy Ma!
Ma is 60 today!
Yay for her.
She's off to the shops to spend her vouchers (and the ones she hoarded since chrissy) today and as she's had this week off work is in quite a gleeful mood.
Dinner tonight with some of the sisters and nieces to celebrate. I'm making pavlova - baked the meranguie bit last night (used a mix) and tonight it's just adding the cream, cherries, kiwifruit and bananas.
Yummo.
Yay for her.
She's off to the shops to spend her vouchers (and the ones she hoarded since chrissy) today and as she's had this week off work is in quite a gleeful mood.
Dinner tonight with some of the sisters and nieces to celebrate. I'm making pavlova - baked the meranguie bit last night (used a mix) and tonight it's just adding the cream, cherries, kiwifruit and bananas.
Yummo.
Craptacular!
Well the last two days were a crap blitzkrieg at work, but funnily enough with the GBS now having come under the spell of the roids, some new rockin' tracks on the pod thing, a good sleep and a satisfying dvd experience - it just doesn't seem as bad.
Plus, we got a shower of rain!! OMG - it went for about 10 minutes and then there was another short one later!! Wow, great news. Really. I think officially it came to just over 1mm in the measuring thingo. Mum is gloating about her 'waters' being on the money. Dad's been calling her Uri Geller - it's almost funny.
In other news, I inspected a house yesterday with an 'eye to buy' as they say here and it was a real money pit. An absolute stinker. Apparently the owner is "very negotiable" on price, yet has a full-price sticker on it... got a very Sydney feel to the market here at the moment, but all this brouhaha with sub-prime doodads ought to calm it all down to slightly more reasonable values. I'll be looking at another one on Friday. This one has no yard, but is well within my affordable range. It's a town house, two beds one LUG. Hmmm.... decisions decisions.....
Well, the sun is out, it's morning tea o'clock and I love youse all.
Plus, we got a shower of rain!! OMG - it went for about 10 minutes and then there was another short one later!! Wow, great news. Really. I think officially it came to just over 1mm in the measuring thingo. Mum is gloating about her 'waters' being on the money. Dad's been calling her Uri Geller - it's almost funny.
In other news, I inspected a house yesterday with an 'eye to buy' as they say here and it was a real money pit. An absolute stinker. Apparently the owner is "very negotiable" on price, yet has a full-price sticker on it... got a very Sydney feel to the market here at the moment, but all this brouhaha with sub-prime doodads ought to calm it all down to slightly more reasonable values. I'll be looking at another one on Friday. This one has no yard, but is well within my affordable range. It's a town house, two beds one LUG. Hmmm.... decisions decisions.....
Well, the sun is out, it's morning tea o'clock and I love youse all.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Bowser Rage
How horrible to be so strung out that when someone cut-in on the bowser queue this morning I honked and was angry - with the chopping hand gestures and everything.
Turns out that they could see that the next one up was disabled, but they needed the diesel/premium bit. I was worried Audrey would conk out in line from being on the red the whole way in. Why is it that when I'm stressed about work, I rush to get there? And rush in that mindless anxious way. Well it's no good for me and it's no good for the people around me. Sorry smug couple in the expensive new car, I am uncool and I apologise. It would have been much better if I could have recovered myself quickly enough to apologise at the time, but that's life huh?
So, Bowser Rage. We didn't conk out, I still got to work early, I've dealt with the fiddly tasks and general sense of unease that I had and now am tallying up the karmic damage. I initially considered opening with Jayne's beautiful line "She's damaging my calm" but sadly I couldn't honestly say I had any calm this morning. I can't blame the drugs (coming off the 'roids man!) and I can't blame my pent-up frustrations at still living in a box out of a suitcase and being tired and empty. This day is the very life of life. I must face this and face it down.
Turns out that they could see that the next one up was disabled, but they needed the diesel/premium bit. I was worried Audrey would conk out in line from being on the red the whole way in. Why is it that when I'm stressed about work, I rush to get there? And rush in that mindless anxious way. Well it's no good for me and it's no good for the people around me. Sorry smug couple in the expensive new car, I am uncool and I apologise. It would have been much better if I could have recovered myself quickly enough to apologise at the time, but that's life huh?
So, Bowser Rage. We didn't conk out, I still got to work early, I've dealt with the fiddly tasks and general sense of unease that I had and now am tallying up the karmic damage. I initially considered opening with Jayne's beautiful line "She's damaging my calm" but sadly I couldn't honestly say I had any calm this morning. I can't blame the drugs (coming off the 'roids man!) and I can't blame my pent-up frustrations at still living in a box out of a suitcase and being tired and empty. This day is the very life of life. I must face this and face it down.
Friday, August 10, 2007
More Eating Stories
Fresh Cauliflowers actually taste good.
Wow - I'd forgotten all about caulies - having so often gotten those slightly rubbery, almost woody tasting things from woolies. I'd kinda given up on them.
Peter bought round two he'd just picked from his garden late yesterday arvo. The leaves hadn't even wilted. They were beautiful. He handed them to me and I could smell the delicate, light scent of fresh cauliflower. Yum yum yum. I was just planning dinner and it didn't take much to swerve from mashed spuds (oh god not again) to steamed caulies in a white sauce. I made a pot of it to go with the tomatoe and lentil bake. Tonight I'll make a pie with them and some corn and carraway seeds.
I can't wait to plant tomatoes for summer. Freshly grown food really does taste so very good, and it is inspiring to have it sitting on the bench and filling the kitchen with smell ideas, rather than bundled in plastic in the fridge/morgue going slowly creepy.
Wow - I'd forgotten all about caulies - having so often gotten those slightly rubbery, almost woody tasting things from woolies. I'd kinda given up on them.
Peter bought round two he'd just picked from his garden late yesterday arvo. The leaves hadn't even wilted. They were beautiful. He handed them to me and I could smell the delicate, light scent of fresh cauliflower. Yum yum yum. I was just planning dinner and it didn't take much to swerve from mashed spuds (oh god not again) to steamed caulies in a white sauce. I made a pot of it to go with the tomatoe and lentil bake. Tonight I'll make a pie with them and some corn and carraway seeds.
I can't wait to plant tomatoes for summer. Freshly grown food really does taste so very good, and it is inspiring to have it sitting on the bench and filling the kitchen with smell ideas, rather than bundled in plastic in the fridge/morgue going slowly creepy.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Massive Oversight
can you believe that we don't have a recipe for RUM BALLS in this house?
Mum pulled out *every*single*one* of her books last night.
"I've found loads of pavlova recipes." she says. Guess what she wants made for her birthday? Great. Still no Rum Balls idea. Thankfully, the internet has been invented....
So, doing some research this morning, Gourmet Traveller failed me, (more often than not actually, but when they do come through it's good, very good) but this is good anyway because it means I have discovered this little gem of a website:
http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/10/rum-balls-recipe.html
What a ripper! Really good quality clear instructions and photos. I'm not sure I'm going to put pineapple in my carrot cake anytime soon( http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/07/carrot-cake-recipe.html ) (no matter how long I am in Queensland) but this website will be helping me get some more classics under my apron tie!
Yay!
Through the love of Mez and back issues of BUST magazine, I've met the very enjoyable Amy Bugbee (met in an internet way - I've read her blog/s and laughed at her antics. She wouldn't know me from turtle poo), and she is the woman behind "Hellraiser Homemaker" go and meet her yourself - she and her husband rock!
Mum pulled out *every*single*one* of her books last night.
"I've found loads of pavlova recipes." she says. Guess what she wants made for her birthday? Great. Still no Rum Balls idea. Thankfully, the internet has been invented....
So, doing some research this morning, Gourmet Traveller failed me, (more often than not actually, but when they do come through it's good, very good) but this is good anyway because it means I have discovered this little gem of a website:
http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/10/rum-balls-recipe.html
What a ripper! Really good quality clear instructions and photos. I'm not sure I'm going to put pineapple in my carrot cake anytime soon( http://www.exclusivelyfood.com.au/2006/07/carrot-cake-recipe.html ) (no matter how long I am in Queensland) but this website will be helping me get some more classics under my apron tie!
Yay!
Through the love of Mez and back issues of BUST magazine, I've met the very enjoyable Amy Bugbee (met in an internet way - I've read her blog/s and laughed at her antics. She wouldn't know me from turtle poo), and she is the woman behind "Hellraiser Homemaker" go and meet her yourself - she and her husband rock!
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Happy Birfy Dad
Dad's birthday today and he got a cup of tea in bed and loads of goodies. Last night i asked him what kind of cake he wanted, and he said "vanilla sponge with chocolate icing" so that's what I made for him, using my new heart-shaped pan (mucks around your cooking time - bakers beware!). He got to sit in his chair and watch stupid tv while I bought him the beaters to lick, then the bowl, then I found an icing recipe that concluded with "eat directly from bowl" so that's gotta taste good, and it did. He's all set for a great day.
The weekend included a large donation of kitchen goods and homewares from Wazza whose mum sold her house so she could go into a home. I got some very lovely baking pans (that's where the love-heart shaped cake tin came from) a big oval casserole dish (must be about 3 - 5 L) and a 4 piece china dinner set. It was very kind of them to think of others at that point.
The new season of calves have started hitting the ground, which is fun, but quite sadly we decided to send all of last year's calves (the weaners) off to market because with no rain even the dead grass is now gone and there's just nothing for them to eat. The new calves are very sweet and adorable. There's something fundamentally gratifying and spring-like about seeing tiny mammals cavorting and learning about the world. Plus, this is the only time you can pick up a cow. Mum and I had to do that on the weekend when one of the new ones got separated from her mum and ran out of puff and just collapsed. Her mum had wandered off, and so we had to pick up the little one and carry her (well I couldn't hold her so I ran and got the wheelbarrow!) and take her to her mum. There was a tense moment when we waited to see if she smelt too much like humans to be recognised again by mama cow - but she licked the icky smell off her and got her sucking again, and all was well. Yay.
The weekend included a large donation of kitchen goods and homewares from Wazza whose mum sold her house so she could go into a home. I got some very lovely baking pans (that's where the love-heart shaped cake tin came from) a big oval casserole dish (must be about 3 - 5 L) and a 4 piece china dinner set. It was very kind of them to think of others at that point.
The new season of calves have started hitting the ground, which is fun, but quite sadly we decided to send all of last year's calves (the weaners) off to market because with no rain even the dead grass is now gone and there's just nothing for them to eat. The new calves are very sweet and adorable. There's something fundamentally gratifying and spring-like about seeing tiny mammals cavorting and learning about the world. Plus, this is the only time you can pick up a cow. Mum and I had to do that on the weekend when one of the new ones got separated from her mum and ran out of puff and just collapsed. Her mum had wandered off, and so we had to pick up the little one and carry her (well I couldn't hold her so I ran and got the wheelbarrow!) and take her to her mum. There was a tense moment when we waited to see if she smelt too much like humans to be recognised again by mama cow - but she licked the icky smell off her and got her sucking again, and all was well. Yay.
Friday, August 03, 2007
Three Magpies on a Branch
They warbled me awake and the dawn was golden on the gum's pale branches. I like the mornings here when the breeze sighs through the leaves and a birdcall can sit on the air.
August opened with the first calf of the season. A tiny little thing seen from the bathroom window, cavorting around in the fog on wednesday morning. Ma and I stood and watched - a lovely moment. Of course being the beginning of August meant that July was done, and we could look back and say "not a single drop of rain fell on our property during the month of July". We wouldn't say it, not out loud anyway. We all know it. We live and live and live with it. So apart from the newly painted house, we're a thousand shades of brown now. Even the brown is looking browner, drier, paler. Deader.
Mum is acting pretty confident that it's going to rain next week, but I think she's either full of shit, or hopeful to the point of being criminally insane. I mean I hope she's right, but I left off how her reason for this rock-solid belief was that she could "feel it in her waters." We don't have any waters. That's the point. You've got no water to feel it in woman!! Had she said "I can feel it in me whisky bladder" I would have put money on it.
Other great news (it's all about me) is that it looks like I'll be able to work towards a film program here next year. I know that's vague, but trust me - that's nearly 6 weeks of pained discussions to get to the position where we've agreed what it is NOT to be, when it is not to be, and that we will discuss at a later time what it should be a lot more like, and who we want to come. This is a solid win! I also took away from this meeting the implicit understanding that this could get to within a chook's tooth of happening and get cancelled/completely co-opted. That also is just how things are here. Despite sounding like a horrible meeting, in a sad, Ipswichian way, i believe it is all actually a desire to protect me from innocently harming myself, and really a sign of trust and expectation in me and my abilities.
Or a setup. We'll see.
August opened with the first calf of the season. A tiny little thing seen from the bathroom window, cavorting around in the fog on wednesday morning. Ma and I stood and watched - a lovely moment. Of course being the beginning of August meant that July was done, and we could look back and say "not a single drop of rain fell on our property during the month of July". We wouldn't say it, not out loud anyway. We all know it. We live and live and live with it. So apart from the newly painted house, we're a thousand shades of brown now. Even the brown is looking browner, drier, paler. Deader.
Mum is acting pretty confident that it's going to rain next week, but I think she's either full of shit, or hopeful to the point of being criminally insane. I mean I hope she's right, but I left off how her reason for this rock-solid belief was that she could "feel it in her waters." We don't have any waters. That's the point. You've got no water to feel it in woman!! Had she said "I can feel it in me whisky bladder" I would have put money on it.
Other great news (it's all about me) is that it looks like I'll be able to work towards a film program here next year. I know that's vague, but trust me - that's nearly 6 weeks of pained discussions to get to the position where we've agreed what it is NOT to be, when it is not to be, and that we will discuss at a later time what it should be a lot more like, and who we want to come. This is a solid win! I also took away from this meeting the implicit understanding that this could get to within a chook's tooth of happening and get cancelled/completely co-opted. That also is just how things are here. Despite sounding like a horrible meeting, in a sad, Ipswichian way, i believe it is all actually a desire to protect me from innocently harming myself, and really a sign of trust and expectation in me and my abilities.
Or a setup. We'll see.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Pope Calls on Potter Fans
Recent permission for Catholics to revert to holding their mass in Latin has revealed a minor snag - very few priests can read or remember how to recite the Latin mass. Pope Benedict considers turning to the worldwide legions of Harry Potter fans "At least those kids can get their mouths around it. This is our chance to show them that Catholicism can be cool too - after all, we had Latin first!"
The Vatican has remained silent on possible podcast options or movie tie-ins.
The Vatican has remained silent on possible podcast options or movie tie-ins.
Crack in the Ranks
How does it happen that one day all your underpants have suddenly voted and split themselves clearly into two camps? They're now irrefutably droppers or clutchers and no comfortable middle-ground can be met. Clearly this is why one should never ever catch up all the laundry - they need a quorum to hold the vote. I've tried negotiation, I've tried work to rule, I've tried bargaining, but there's nothing for it. This is a vital service, I'm going to use emergency executive powers and replace the lot with scabs.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Tidy Up
Well hey there compadres!
There's loads of little things to tell you all about. First of all, thank you to everyone who's sent me a message of any kind in support of pulling through the last few weeks. The GBS is now battling the prednisolone/salofalk and I think loosing. The side effects (mostly I get very restless and only slightly cranky - so hard for other people to tell there's any difference really) of the drugs have been more manageable this time as the dose wasn't as high and got stepped-back more quickly. The new doctor seems thoughtful and intelligent and I'll be seeing a new specialist soon. I like the idea that I am assembling a "crack" (sorry about any arse puns that make their way into this post) team of brave and compassionate souls all fighting for a better world. Yes, I have been reading too much Harry Potter.
That reminds me. HOW GOOD IS BOOK SEVEN?!?!!! No Spoilers here - don't be concerned. I really enjoyed it, and yes I know there's many points of discussion about what a better book/series might be... but I am living with the experience I am having, not the one I think I ought to have - and that has to go for books, comics, movies and transport options too. We'll talk later, I'm sure.
Major Family Moment on the weekend. After months of planning and preparation (mostly by my very able and forthright sisters) Ma & Pa's poor white trash shack of house has been transformed into a sunflower bright butterfly house. OMG. Isn't it amazing what eleven people, hundreds of dollars of paint and about 16 litres of tea can achieve?! The shock-troops arrived on saturday morning around 9am (yes, I was just getting up and had jammies and gritty eyes) and had a full first coat of paint on the place by lunch. Huge. I offered (wisely I thought at the time) to stay out of the way (my uncle and cousins are professional house painters) and to do the catering. What an undertaking. Imagine the logistics of serving and provisioning eleven hungry folk for morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, morning tea and lunch. I will never be intimidated by Christmas again! Many thanks to Sis2 for sporadic assistance, a warm haven for the night and a restful breakfast before re-entering the fray. Ma is delighted with the outcome and we're all pleased it's over. In a happy way.
The portugese tarts were ok. The pastry was a wreck (i measured a key ingredient incorrectly and turned it from flaky pastry to shortbread - no one seemed to mind) but the custard totally made up for it. This is the *best*ever* custard and well worth the time it takes to assemble. I will be trying the custard in a vanilla slice-type environment to see how I go with store pastry (as we have a huge bag of passionfruit to use).
Today I have sent away an application for a regional writers scholarship through the Queensland Arts Council. If I get it, it means 3 weeks at a writing retreat in Varuna. I have applied once before for a mentorship there - it's a brilliant setup in the Blue Mountains. I don't want to get too excited, I don't even know how long it takes for them to decide and everything, or how many people apply for this. But just putting together the material for the application was actually a brilliant process and very worthwhile. It helped me to get back on track for my writing goals for the rest of the year. Light a stick of incense for me - I'll keep you informed.
Finally, it seems to have taken years, but Beowulf, Stardust and His Dark Materials: Golden Compass are all about to hit the big screens. What a glut! YAHOO!!!!
Just make sure you go read the books first. Really.
(Yes, the Hearney translation of Beowulf - through Faber, oh, I think Penguin bought out Faber... just go to the library ok!).
Really finally... Crazy Clark's has closed down across the road from my office window. Out of no-where friday was their last day. What a trash and desolate place the Ipswich "CBD" is now with more vacant shops than filled ones. This is the natural predatory order of things in the capitalist jungle. Perhaps this culling will allow some sunlight in and some new things to take root. I live in hope.
There's loads of little things to tell you all about. First of all, thank you to everyone who's sent me a message of any kind in support of pulling through the last few weeks. The GBS is now battling the prednisolone/salofalk and I think loosing. The side effects (mostly I get very restless and only slightly cranky - so hard for other people to tell there's any difference really) of the drugs have been more manageable this time as the dose wasn't as high and got stepped-back more quickly. The new doctor seems thoughtful and intelligent and I'll be seeing a new specialist soon. I like the idea that I am assembling a "crack" (sorry about any arse puns that make their way into this post) team of brave and compassionate souls all fighting for a better world. Yes, I have been reading too much Harry Potter.
That reminds me. HOW GOOD IS BOOK SEVEN?!?!!! No Spoilers here - don't be concerned. I really enjoyed it, and yes I know there's many points of discussion about what a better book/series might be... but I am living with the experience I am having, not the one I think I ought to have - and that has to go for books, comics, movies and transport options too. We'll talk later, I'm sure.
Major Family Moment on the weekend. After months of planning and preparation (mostly by my very able and forthright sisters) Ma & Pa's poor white trash shack of house has been transformed into a sunflower bright butterfly house. OMG. Isn't it amazing what eleven people, hundreds of dollars of paint and about 16 litres of tea can achieve?! The shock-troops arrived on saturday morning around 9am (yes, I was just getting up and had jammies and gritty eyes) and had a full first coat of paint on the place by lunch. Huge. I offered (wisely I thought at the time) to stay out of the way (my uncle and cousins are professional house painters) and to do the catering. What an undertaking. Imagine the logistics of serving and provisioning eleven hungry folk for morning tea, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, morning tea and lunch. I will never be intimidated by Christmas again! Many thanks to Sis2 for sporadic assistance, a warm haven for the night and a restful breakfast before re-entering the fray. Ma is delighted with the outcome and we're all pleased it's over. In a happy way.
The portugese tarts were ok. The pastry was a wreck (i measured a key ingredient incorrectly and turned it from flaky pastry to shortbread - no one seemed to mind) but the custard totally made up for it. This is the *best*ever* custard and well worth the time it takes to assemble. I will be trying the custard in a vanilla slice-type environment to see how I go with store pastry (as we have a huge bag of passionfruit to use).
Today I have sent away an application for a regional writers scholarship through the Queensland Arts Council. If I get it, it means 3 weeks at a writing retreat in Varuna. I have applied once before for a mentorship there - it's a brilliant setup in the Blue Mountains. I don't want to get too excited, I don't even know how long it takes for them to decide and everything, or how many people apply for this. But just putting together the material for the application was actually a brilliant process and very worthwhile. It helped me to get back on track for my writing goals for the rest of the year. Light a stick of incense for me - I'll keep you informed.
Finally, it seems to have taken years, but Beowulf, Stardust and His Dark Materials: Golden Compass are all about to hit the big screens. What a glut! YAHOO!!!!
Just make sure you go read the books first. Really.
(Yes, the Hearney translation of Beowulf - through Faber, oh, I think Penguin bought out Faber... just go to the library ok!).
Really finally... Crazy Clark's has closed down across the road from my office window. Out of no-where friday was their last day. What a trash and desolate place the Ipswich "CBD" is now with more vacant shops than filled ones. This is the natural predatory order of things in the capitalist jungle. Perhaps this culling will allow some sunlight in and some new things to take root. I live in hope.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Sloppy
One of my (few) male coworkers in the "Shiny Ice-Cold Sex" department (ie: marketing) had a very funny reaction to a simple word the other day. It was amazing to watch, so obviously, I had to say it a few times to check that it wasn't a fluke.
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
What word you may wonder.
Was it something far too bland to ever be mentioned in our cool department (cardigan)? Was it something harsh and discordant (strip mining)? Was it something just too long and slightly high-brow (democracy)?
No, it was none of these things. It was just sloppy.
He nearly gagged. He twisted in his chair, looked away, and I bet his toes were curdling in his classy shoes. Hi-larious.
He even said "Could we use another word?"
Where is Jayne with a pithy, hard-arsed comeback when you really need him?
'It's just sloppy protocols', I said and yup, there he goes. Dancing like a meat puppet to my tune. BWAHAHAHAHA.
I reckon he got teased for being a bad kisser, or has a terminal castrating fear of vaginas. Will keep you posted as the opportunities present themselves to test these theories (from a purely theoretical standpoint on this one).
Life Enlivened by The Onion
This made me laugh today, so I thought I would share it with you:
Earthquake Sets Japan Back To 2147
July 23, 2007 Issue 43•30
TOKYO—Japanese government officials confirmed Monday that the damage wrought on Japan's national infrastructure by the July 16th earthquake—particularly on the country's protective force field, quantum teleportation system, zero-point fusion energy broadcasting grid, and psychodynamic communications network—was severe enough to set the technologically advanced island nation back approximately 300 years to a primitive mid-22nd-century state of existence.
"Japan finds itself in crisis, with our society and culture temporarily reverting to a pre-cyberunification era," said Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe, communicating non-telekinetically for the first time in his nearly 150 years of post-cryogenic life. "Though many citizens have been limited to algorithm-based emotion detection, neutron baths, speed limits below the speed of light, and other barbaric inconveniences for over a week now, I promise we will pull through." {more}
Hehehehehe. Those crazy guys!
Earthquake Sets Japan Back To 2147
July 23, 2007 Issue 43•30
TOKYO—Japanese government officials confirmed Monday that the damage wrought on Japan's national infrastructure by the July 16th earthquake—particularly on the country's protective force field, quantum teleportation system, zero-point fusion energy broadcasting grid, and psychodynamic communications network—was severe enough to set the technologically advanced island nation back approximately 300 years to a primitive mid-22nd-century state of existence.
"Japan finds itself in crisis, with our society and culture temporarily reverting to a pre-cyberunification era," said Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe, communicating non-telekinetically for the first time in his nearly 150 years of post-cryogenic life. "Though many citizens have been limited to algorithm-based emotion detection, neutron baths, speed limits below the speed of light, and other barbaric inconveniences for over a week now, I promise we will pull through." {more}
Hehehehehe. Those crazy guys!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Thanatos
Work is looking into doing a thing on skulls.
There are a lot more skulls in art than you may initially think of. Damian Hirst has the most famous one at the moment where he's made on (or encrusted on - I'm not sure ) with about 10 thousand diamonds. It's been on display at White Cube in London - but I think that show is finished now. There was berserk security - you'd be escorted two people at a time into the darkened room for a maximum of 2 - 5 minutes. Good marketing if you ask me. I heard a rumour that George Michael was thinking of buying it. I just checked. It's 8500 diamonds, and the skull is cast in platinum and *then* encrusted.
I digress.
Out of interest and excitement, I started reading a bit more about the representational aspects of skulls, and came across a chap I'd never heard of - Thanatos. A "minor" figure in Greek Mythology (he's just death after all) or, once again I've checked , and he was probably minor in the Greek pantheon due to being in charge of "peaceful death" unlike Keres who took on violent death and so therefore is obviously much cooler. Freud apparently went on later to use his name to refer to a "death drive" (early emo?) .
I'm not sure yet what there is to do with this new knowledge of this old character. He has been utilised by many a band and a couple of death cult types (despite Keres). There's just something about this name and idea that sound rich. I've had it on a postie note for a few weeks now, and that's normally the test - after a few days it'll come down from the monitor and go in the bin ... but there he is. I think he's waiting for the right cross pollination to bang into him.
There are a lot more skulls in art than you may initially think of. Damian Hirst has the most famous one at the moment where he's made on (or encrusted on - I'm not sure ) with about 10 thousand diamonds. It's been on display at White Cube in London - but I think that show is finished now. There was berserk security - you'd be escorted two people at a time into the darkened room for a maximum of 2 - 5 minutes. Good marketing if you ask me. I heard a rumour that George Michael was thinking of buying it. I just checked. It's 8500 diamonds, and the skull is cast in platinum and *then* encrusted.
I digress.
Out of interest and excitement, I started reading a bit more about the representational aspects of skulls, and came across a chap I'd never heard of - Thanatos. A "minor" figure in Greek Mythology (he's just death after all) or, once again I've checked , and he was probably minor in the Greek pantheon due to being in charge of "peaceful death" unlike Keres who took on violent death and so therefore is obviously much cooler. Freud apparently went on later to use his name to refer to a "death drive" (early emo?) .
I'm not sure yet what there is to do with this new knowledge of this old character. He has been utilised by many a band and a couple of death cult types (despite Keres). There's just something about this name and idea that sound rich. I've had it on a postie note for a few weeks now, and that's normally the test - after a few days it'll come down from the monitor and go in the bin ... but there he is. I think he's waiting for the right cross pollination to bang into him.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The Final Installment
It would be remiss to let this weekend pass and not say: "HARRY POTTER".
A new film and the last book.
I enjoy the books, I've saved up reading #6 so that I can read the last two in a row. Getting to the end of #5 and knowing that it could be *years* before I found out what happened next was the kind of annoyance I could not choose to put myself through again. Plus there's the pleasure that latecomers have - when a series is complete and one can be totally immersed in it. Yum yum yum.
I went yesterday to see the film with Sis2 who had taken her chillen and so had missed large chunks of it. We had a very good time, and dark Malteasers.
Today I am trying a new recipe - Portuguese Custard Tarts. I've never even tried making pastry of this calibre before, so I am feeling a bit intimidated, but as I have a captive, appreciative audience who hasn't eaten them in Little Portugal, I am hopeful of a positive experience.
A new film and the last book.
I enjoy the books, I've saved up reading #6 so that I can read the last two in a row. Getting to the end of #5 and knowing that it could be *years* before I found out what happened next was the kind of annoyance I could not choose to put myself through again. Plus there's the pleasure that latecomers have - when a series is complete and one can be totally immersed in it. Yum yum yum.
I went yesterday to see the film with Sis2 who had taken her chillen and so had missed large chunks of it. We had a very good time, and dark Malteasers.
Today I am trying a new recipe - Portuguese Custard Tarts. I've never even tried making pastry of this calibre before, so I am feeling a bit intimidated, but as I have a captive, appreciative audience who hasn't eaten them in Little Portugal, I am hopeful of a positive experience.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Meet me Half Way
George prayed every day for three years to win the lottery, but never heard from God or hit the jackpot. Finally, God woke him up in the middle of the night.
"George, is that you who's been praying so hard to win the lottery?" the Supreme Being boomed.
"Yes, Lord, desperately!"
God paused for a moment, then said thoughtfully,
"George, I'll tell you what. I want you to meet me halfway. Buy a ticket, OK?"
"George, is that you who's been praying so hard to win the lottery?" the Supreme Being boomed.
"Yes, Lord, desperately!"
God paused for a moment, then said thoughtfully,
"George, I'll tell you what. I want you to meet me halfway. Buy a ticket, OK?"
Sleepwalking
ooooh Shiver me timbers!
It's been cold enough to freeze the balls from a brass monkey.
We are so very far from water here that I remain enamoured of the faux nautical/piratical terminology in everyday use for reasons of high irony and shall continue to use them no matter how out of step I remain/become.
I digress.
It has been jolly cold - with many a morning spiking down below zero, and a week of weather in the more-than-5-degrees-below-normal type range, and yet dry dry dry. This makes sleeping fully enclosed within the doona-cocoon the best option. I am thinking of finding my snorkel, or perhaps modifying one of Pa's safety masks to bring in the trickle of fresh air that I need, which the dog seems to do fine without.
Today has been the first day all week, that I don't feel that I'm sleepwalking through the day, waiting to thaw before my brain can wake. I am putting this down to having a double breakfast and a 4 minute Scorching Shower before setting off in Audrey for work. And now another coffee.
Being sick at the moment with the Great Bowel Serpent (GBS)... saying ulcerative colitis all the time just sounds like I'm some pathetic Harry Potter wannabe with a spell that doesn't work... coffee isn't really the right thing to be turning to.
On the other hand, I'm looking at it more like Thunderdome - you want to send another combatant in or it's just no fun at all! Oh hahahahahaa. How I do entertain myself!
It's been cold enough to freeze the balls from a brass monkey.
We are so very far from water here that I remain enamoured of the faux nautical/piratical terminology in everyday use for reasons of high irony and shall continue to use them no matter how out of step I remain/become.
I digress.
It has been jolly cold - with many a morning spiking down below zero, and a week of weather in the more-than-5-degrees-below-normal type range, and yet dry dry dry. This makes sleeping fully enclosed within the doona-cocoon the best option. I am thinking of finding my snorkel, or perhaps modifying one of Pa's safety masks to bring in the trickle of fresh air that I need, which the dog seems to do fine without.
Today has been the first day all week, that I don't feel that I'm sleepwalking through the day, waiting to thaw before my brain can wake. I am putting this down to having a double breakfast and a 4 minute Scorching Shower before setting off in Audrey for work. And now another coffee.
Being sick at the moment with the Great Bowel Serpent (GBS)... saying ulcerative colitis all the time just sounds like I'm some pathetic Harry Potter wannabe with a spell that doesn't work... coffee isn't really the right thing to be turning to.
On the other hand, I'm looking at it more like Thunderdome - you want to send another combatant in or it's just no fun at all! Oh hahahahahaa. How I do entertain myself!
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
International Moment
BTW
How good is the exchange rate at the moment?!?!!
No longer do I have to double the price of something to see if I can afford the postage! A $32 shirt cost $36. OMG.
I don't believe in commercialism, consumption, this wastage of our natural resources on petty entertainments.
That's the official line - but I'm a woman - I have needs, okay?!
At the moment, I *need* Macbeth as directed by Polanski. I just do.
I *need* to go on the Christmas Browncoat cruise and I don't know why.
Let's not go into this, but nearly 90 cents to the dollar, c'mon!
Hey... that gets me thinking. China. Big country, right? America - big debt - largely to China as far as I can make out (this is hazy, they don't seem to like to admit where all this money is owed). How long do you reckon until the global economy really starts to tilt away from America? Loads of little countries (think those teeny ones in Africa) just go to China for aid now. China gives it too - for a cut. Of land, or jobs. Mercenary. Effective.
Maybe the next Roman empire will manifest in my lifetime, and it will be Chinese.
So very many people have been there before me on this one, it's only a surprise that I bothered.
Last question - Cantonese or Mandarin lessons?
How good is the exchange rate at the moment?!?!!
No longer do I have to double the price of something to see if I can afford the postage! A $32 shirt cost $36. OMG.
I don't believe in commercialism, consumption, this wastage of our natural resources on petty entertainments.
That's the official line - but I'm a woman - I have needs, okay?!
At the moment, I *need* Macbeth as directed by Polanski. I just do.
I *need* to go on the Christmas Browncoat cruise and I don't know why.
Let's not go into this, but nearly 90 cents to the dollar, c'mon!
Hey... that gets me thinking. China. Big country, right? America - big debt - largely to China as far as I can make out (this is hazy, they don't seem to like to admit where all this money is owed). How long do you reckon until the global economy really starts to tilt away from America? Loads of little countries (think those teeny ones in Africa) just go to China for aid now. China gives it too - for a cut. Of land, or jobs. Mercenary. Effective.
Maybe the next Roman empire will manifest in my lifetime, and it will be Chinese.
So very many people have been there before me on this one, it's only a surprise that I bothered.
Last question - Cantonese or Mandarin lessons?
The Germans!
I meant to salute the Germans before they left, but life was intense for a handful of days and wrapped me up.
Iris and Matthias bought their incandescence to our humble farm house for the weekend. It was a glory to share some time with them, and be able to provide a range of roos and wallabies for their first stay on a farm. They recorded the sound of our farm for use later in their art, and somehow, somewhere very deeply, this has pleased me immensely. Oh yeah, and they intrigued my parents and were very good company and basically it was a great time. I learnt a new description for ruma and coke - Cuba Libre - cuba free - an allusion to rum/cuba and America/coke. oh hilarity hilarity. Of course it's even cooler when you say it with a German accent "cooba Leeba" . We played pool in the pool room, and even that seemed pretty hilarious at the time. I taught Iris how to make scones. Much fun was had by all.
Really, after all my moaning and fretting when Lee & Andy came out worrying about would it be ok?, would they find it?, was it all an elaborate hoax to trick me? - I must now admit that this has been a fantastic run of intrepid souls gracing us.
Iris & Matthias travel on up towards Cairns for the next few weeks, and I hope they enjoy many over sized and tacky "Big Objects" (they saw the Big Pineapple on the way here) and that the Great Barrier Reef is still alive when they get there.
Travel well, see you next time.
Iris and Matthias bought their incandescence to our humble farm house for the weekend. It was a glory to share some time with them, and be able to provide a range of roos and wallabies for their first stay on a farm. They recorded the sound of our farm for use later in their art, and somehow, somewhere very deeply, this has pleased me immensely. Oh yeah, and they intrigued my parents and were very good company and basically it was a great time. I learnt a new description for ruma and coke - Cuba Libre - cuba free - an allusion to rum/cuba and America/coke. oh hilarity hilarity. Of course it's even cooler when you say it with a German accent "cooba Leeba" . We played pool in the pool room, and even that seemed pretty hilarious at the time. I taught Iris how to make scones. Much fun was had by all.
Really, after all my moaning and fretting when Lee & Andy came out worrying about would it be ok?, would they find it?, was it all an elaborate hoax to trick me? - I must now admit that this has been a fantastic run of intrepid souls gracing us.
Iris & Matthias travel on up towards Cairns for the next few weeks, and I hope they enjoy many over sized and tacky "Big Objects" (they saw the Big Pineapple on the way here) and that the Great Barrier Reef is still alive when they get there.
Travel well, see you next time.
Lil Goes to Silverdale
Lil the Cow and two of her cowpatriots went to Silverdale this afternoon. None of us were here to wave them off, the local truck-driving man knows the drill and loaded them hisself, filled in the paperwork, possibly patted a dog, and was gone.
Gone from our lives, Lil. Ma's second ever purebred Limousin cow who she got before they moved out here to the big farm, mustuv been about 14 or 15 years ago, and she's been breeding ever since. But here's how it goes; we're running out of feed, there's young uns to keep (although most will go soon to Silverdale too) and the dam's getting low low.
So despite the fetal hope in their bellies they're at the Silverdale yards tonight, and tomorrow someone will buy them and we hope it will be a loving family with paddocks of knee-high clover who will love them until their natural end.
Yeah, and then I'll win lotto.
Gone from our lives, Lil. Ma's second ever purebred Limousin cow who she got before they moved out here to the big farm, mustuv been about 14 or 15 years ago, and she's been breeding ever since. But here's how it goes; we're running out of feed, there's young uns to keep (although most will go soon to Silverdale too) and the dam's getting low low.
So despite the fetal hope in their bellies they're at the Silverdale yards tonight, and tomorrow someone will buy them and we hope it will be a loving family with paddocks of knee-high clover who will love them until their natural end.
Yeah, and then I'll win lotto.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Aust Post: Axis of Evil?
Increasingly the "service" from Australia Post grates harshly.
Queues, dullness of intellect, poor English skills, padded product ranges - all these are but nothing compared to the incessant creep of that most insidious franchise behaviour: the upsell.
"May I have a book of ten stamps please?" is no longer a request, but an invitation to offer me a ream of paper on special, envelopes, a book of 20 stamps, a pack of highlighters.
"Just the stamps....gritted teeth...please."
Do they think we are that inane? That dim witted?
"Gosh, I forgot, yes, I am completely out of envelopes, highlighters, and dodgy teddy bears (stocked here for no apparent purpose), load me up!"
If I could buy stamps from a slot in the wall I would, and willingly, to forgo this element of modern life. Are there no standards anywhere anymore?
Queues, dullness of intellect, poor English skills, padded product ranges - all these are but nothing compared to the incessant creep of that most insidious franchise behaviour: the upsell.
"May I have a book of ten stamps please?" is no longer a request, but an invitation to offer me a ream of paper on special, envelopes, a book of 20 stamps, a pack of highlighters.
"Just the stamps....gritted teeth...please."
Do they think we are that inane? That dim witted?
"Gosh, I forgot, yes, I am completely out of envelopes, highlighters, and dodgy teddy bears (stocked here for no apparent purpose), load me up!"
If I could buy stamps from a slot in the wall I would, and willingly, to forgo this element of modern life. Are there no standards anywhere anymore?
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.
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