“Thank goodness it's nearly over,” say some, “Bring on 2011,” say others. What makes us so hopeful that there's something better on the horizon simply because the calendar clicks over another day? I love the optimism though. Go nuts guys. Be as hopeful as you can. It probably won't change anything, but it can't hurt right?
I'm not going in with anything as strong as optimism this time. Nor hope. More a wariness matched with quiet good humour, and allowances for brief periods of despair, anguish and joy.
It's not 2010 or any other year in particular that makes me take this view and seek an emotional balance. It's just that a lot can happen in a year, and it defies logic to suppose that all of the things that happen in a person's life over the course of a year are going to all be good.. People of my age and older seem to be always exclaiming how fast the years seem to be passing, but the perceived speed of the passage of time doesn't mean we're not packing a lot in to those 365 days.
Last week I made a list of personal highlights and lowlights of the year. Thankfully, there were many more of the former, but with the lowlights being dominated by loved ones dying or becoming ill, I really wish that list was much shorter than it is. The last few weeks in particular have felt like a festival of bad news, with each piece of additional news threatening to bury me in the heavy silt of intense grief.
One highlight I didn't list was the amazing privilege of observing and guiding the growth of the two human beings in my care. They seem to stretch their body frames a little longer as they sleep, waking taller, louder and hungrier each morning, and they make me laugh hard with their wry observations of life. KUTGW Lachie and Darcy.
Our home has swelled slightly with the addition of our housemate Amanda, and we are sometimes visited by Amanda's pug Hugo who snorts like a piglet and can cuddle on a lap for hours. Rosie and Ethan took to Hugo quite well, and people walking, running or cycling on the track at the rear of the house were treated to a trio of loud yappy dogs barking madly, instead of the usual duo. Good times.
The big ticket items this year were special – a trip to Europe, making new friends, reconnecting with old friends - but even the smaller ticket items (is that even a thing?) like seeing shows and dinners with friends were pretty special too.
I think 2010 for me was the year of the Little Girl with a Little Curl. When it was good it was very, very good, and when it was bad it was horrid. A little less intensity next year might be good.
To all my friends, family, colleagues, readers (all 12 of you), frenemies, nemeses, and the dogs, thank you for being part of the rich tapestry of my life in 2010 (and prior). My wishes for you for 2011 are simple: Go well. Be safe. Strive to be happy.
Happy new year.
L
Highlights & Lowlights of 2010
(in almost chronological order)
Highlights
EMC Summer School in Sydney
The go-go challenge
Slow Fashion Show in Melbourne (performing Shake Your Tail Feather)
Seven Days of Awesomeness (related blog)
Easter in Sydney (related blog)
The Swell Season (Melb & Syd)
Trip to Europe (UNI Conference and making new friends, as well as you know, Europe)(related blog)
Weekend in Canberra
Darebin Art Show
Kunst Rock (related blog)
Mrs Bang
Show Don't Tell
Thrill The World (related blog)
Half-Arsed Thursdays
Dinners at Vere & Roseneath Streets
BBQs at Arcadia Avenue
Lowlights
Deaths of Barry Beech, Eric Hopper, Jan Cleeland and Lulu Marilyn Smellybumholehead
Deaths of Rubie Hunter, and James Freud.
Sandy's diagnosis and imminent death. Li's diagnosis.
Favourite TV in 2010
Misfits, Sherlock, Mad Men, Chuck, Modern Family.
Favourite movie of 2010
Animal Kingdom (related blog)
Favourite album of 2010
Belle & Sebastian, Write About Love
Favourite books of 2010
(read in 2010 not necessarily written in 2010)
American Gods, Neil Gaiman
A Fraction of the Whole, Steve Toltz (related blog)
Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen
The Old Kingdom Trilogy (Sabriel, Lirael, Abhorsen), Garth Nix
Keys to the Kingdom series, Garth Nix
The Tomorrow Series and Ellie Chronicles, John Marsden
Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert
Friday, December 31, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
Say Goodbye
Not long after I started to explore my artistic tendencies I came across a movie on television called Me and You and Everyone We Know. Shockingly beautiful is the way I like to describe it.
It's a movie about connections. The main characters, described on IMDB as “A lonely shoe salesman and an eccentric performance artist” who “struggle to connect in this unique take on contemporary life”, actually have depth and are well portrayed by Miranda July and John Hawkes.
But this film isn't solely about these two characters; the supporting stories are just as fascinating.
Beware though, we travel through some uncomfortable territory here. Parallel tales include a small child engaging in an adult world, and the sexual awareness of teens. When IMDB says “contemporary life” they mean the gritty, technologically shiny and often emotionally bereft 21st century, where rules and social norms are challenged constantly.
Every uncomfortable situation is tempered by the tender treatment of director and lead actor, Miranda July. It's controversial and confronting, but hugely enjoyable, and poignant.
I immediately ordered a copy of the DVD from Amazon, and wanted to know what else the fabulous Ms July had produced. That's how I discovered Learning to Love You More.
I spotted the book on Amazon and the description talked about a website that acted as collective arts hub. Upon find the website I discovered that assignments were set by a group of artists, Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher among them, and anyone was free to complete the assignments and submit the results on the website. In fact, everyone was free to submit an assignment if they wished to.
Since it's inception, many of the submissions have been exhibited in the UK, Europe and the US, and a good number appear in the book. Submissions have poured in from all over the world. Some are beautiful, some are naïve, some are puzzling. All of them are interesting.
In the years since I found the website I have submitted a couple of reports, and kept some of my favourites in mind when helping my children with their homework assignments, or being creative myself.
I did have one submission rejected on the grounds that it did not meet the rules of the assignment. The tension between being free to create something, and being constrained by very specific perimeters puts you in a forced creative space where you produce something that, perhaps is not be exactly how it would be if you had full creative control, but is actually the best you could do under the circumstances and the exercise has forced you to come up with contingencies.
It's quite liberating to accept that you can create within confines. In fact we do it all the time.
Learning to Love You More stopped taking assignment submissions on 1 May 2009. Submissions can still be seen on the website, & the assignments are still posted for anyone to complete.
The 70th and final assignment posted was Say Goodbye. Here it is:
“Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye. It just feels easier to keep holding on. But in the long run it's usually a good idea to let go, it's the daring thing to do. It allows room for new things, for transformation. And maybe the goodbye isn't even forever, but you can't know until you really say goodbye and mean it. In some cases, goodbye is really the end, and good riddance! For this assignment, say goodbye to all the things you need to let go of: bad habits, dead people, alive people, ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, self-destructive feelings and behaviors, jobs, projects, re-occuring thoughts, etc.
Write it as a simple list:
Goodbye Bill.
Goodbye wetting the bed.
Good bye interrupting people when they are talking.
etc.
It can be as long or as short as you like. And, most importantly, take a moment with each one to really say goodbye. This isn't a catalogue of your fears and faults, this is a ceremony to bid them farewell. Please don't send us HELLOS, only goodbyes.”
The assignment was posted in early 2009 along with a notice that Learning to Love You More would no longer be taking submissions. Since then I've been thinking about the assignment. Not obsessively and not all the time, but it has been hovering in my mind for more than two years, just quietly musing in the background. Whenever something changed in my life or someone left I'd wonder “Is this it? Is this what I'm saying goodbye to?”
On my continuing journey of self-exploration I have often wondered about the choices I have made and want to make, whether my opinions still fit or need revising. I think about and my attitude, activities and relationships. “Would it be best to say goodbye to any of these,” I often wonder.
Since 2009 I have said goodbye, many times to lots of things. But none of them felt right for this project.
But tonight, Friday 12th November at around 8.30pm, I had a breakthrough.
I know how to Say Goodbye.
It's a movie about connections. The main characters, described on IMDB as “A lonely shoe salesman and an eccentric performance artist” who “struggle to connect in this unique take on contemporary life”, actually have depth and are well portrayed by Miranda July and John Hawkes.
But this film isn't solely about these two characters; the supporting stories are just as fascinating.
Beware though, we travel through some uncomfortable territory here. Parallel tales include a small child engaging in an adult world, and the sexual awareness of teens. When IMDB says “contemporary life” they mean the gritty, technologically shiny and often emotionally bereft 21st century, where rules and social norms are challenged constantly.
Every uncomfortable situation is tempered by the tender treatment of director and lead actor, Miranda July. It's controversial and confronting, but hugely enjoyable, and poignant.
I immediately ordered a copy of the DVD from Amazon, and wanted to know what else the fabulous Ms July had produced. That's how I discovered Learning to Love You More.
I spotted the book on Amazon and the description talked about a website that acted as collective arts hub. Upon find the website I discovered that assignments were set by a group of artists, Miranda July and Harrell Fletcher among them, and anyone was free to complete the assignments and submit the results on the website. In fact, everyone was free to submit an assignment if they wished to.
Since it's inception, many of the submissions have been exhibited in the UK, Europe and the US, and a good number appear in the book. Submissions have poured in from all over the world. Some are beautiful, some are naïve, some are puzzling. All of them are interesting.
In the years since I found the website I have submitted a couple of reports, and kept some of my favourites in mind when helping my children with their homework assignments, or being creative myself.
I did have one submission rejected on the grounds that it did not meet the rules of the assignment. The tension between being free to create something, and being constrained by very specific perimeters puts you in a forced creative space where you produce something that, perhaps is not be exactly how it would be if you had full creative control, but is actually the best you could do under the circumstances and the exercise has forced you to come up with contingencies.
It's quite liberating to accept that you can create within confines. In fact we do it all the time.
Learning to Love You More stopped taking assignment submissions on 1 May 2009. Submissions can still be seen on the website, & the assignments are still posted for anyone to complete.
The 70th and final assignment posted was Say Goodbye. Here it is:
“Sometimes it's hard to say goodbye. It just feels easier to keep holding on. But in the long run it's usually a good idea to let go, it's the daring thing to do. It allows room for new things, for transformation. And maybe the goodbye isn't even forever, but you can't know until you really say goodbye and mean it. In some cases, goodbye is really the end, and good riddance! For this assignment, say goodbye to all the things you need to let go of: bad habits, dead people, alive people, ex-boyfriends and girlfriends, self-destructive feelings and behaviors, jobs, projects, re-occuring thoughts, etc.
Write it as a simple list:
Goodbye Bill.
Goodbye wetting the bed.
Good bye interrupting people when they are talking.
etc.
It can be as long or as short as you like. And, most importantly, take a moment with each one to really say goodbye. This isn't a catalogue of your fears and faults, this is a ceremony to bid them farewell. Please don't send us HELLOS, only goodbyes.”
The assignment was posted in early 2009 along with a notice that Learning to Love You More would no longer be taking submissions. Since then I've been thinking about the assignment. Not obsessively and not all the time, but it has been hovering in my mind for more than two years, just quietly musing in the background. Whenever something changed in my life or someone left I'd wonder “Is this it? Is this what I'm saying goodbye to?”
On my continuing journey of self-exploration I have often wondered about the choices I have made and want to make, whether my opinions still fit or need revising. I think about and my attitude, activities and relationships. “Would it be best to say goodbye to any of these,” I often wonder.
Since 2009 I have said goodbye, many times to lots of things. But none of them felt right for this project.
But tonight, Friday 12th November at around 8.30pm, I had a breakthrough.
I know how to Say Goodbye.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Thrill the World
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Tonight along with 80 other people in Melbourne, I'll be dressing up as a zombie and dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller. We are participating in Thrill the World; a global event that has set a couple of world records. Tonight we're hoping to break one of them (Largest performance of Thriller in multiple locations), and raise some money for 24 hour telephone counselling and crisis support service, Lifeline Australia.
Thrill the World has been happening annually since 2006, and has grown each year. Over 22,000 dancers participated last year, in 32 countries.
In Australia, Thrill the World events are occurring in Melbourne, Sydney, Perth, Devonport, Brisbane and Rockhampton.
In Melbourne, dancers from Anna's Go-Go Academy have been preparing for months. We learned the dance in class in stages, spread out over a few weeks. That was months ago. Since then we've been practising most weeks so the steps sink in, and many of us have been practising outside of class aided by Thrill the World instructional videos on the web.
For the last two weeks we've practised several times during class, and have been scouring op shops and rooting through cupboards to find our perfect costumes. Our generous sponsors Costume Factory, Kensington have given us a discount on zombie make up, and guidance on how best to apply it. Our other major sponsor Bella Union, home of Anna's Go-Go Academy Wednesday night classes, are allowing us to use the venue as our pre-show HQ, and are hosting the after-party.
Fundraising efforts are going well, and I have been genuinely touched by the support my friends and colleagues have been willing to provide.
In about four and half hours the months of practise will be put to the test as we get our zombie on and whip out our very best MJ action. Photographers and video camera operators will capture the performance, and then it will be all over. More than one of our number has mused aloud about whether we'll have Thriller withdrawal after tonight.
Already there is a sense of accomplishment. Most of us aren't professional dancers. We work in offices, shops and salons, and spend some of our spare time dancing for fun. But together, we've mastered a fairly complicated routine, we're raising money for a good cause, and the best part about it is the sense of working as a collective. Getting ready to Thrill the World has been so much fun; months of planning to put on a 6 minute show!
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Our event manager Anna has put together a great production crew, drawing on the skills and experience within the Go-Go classes, and it's sure to be a fun evening for those who are participating, and those who are coming along to watch.
Zombie dancers all over the world will dance Thriller simultaneously. The dance time for Melbourne is 10pm; perfect for spooky dancing!
I think I speak on behalf of all over the 80+ zombie dancers participating when I say we're thrilled to be part of Thrill the World 2010.
Shamon!
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Sunday, September 19, 2010
Review: A Fraction Of The Whole by Steve Toltz
This book was recommended to me by dear friends Mistress Anna and Lady Bec, who have not steered me wrong when it comes to literary choices. They've come up trumps again; this is an amazing book.
The audacity of the plot turns made me gasp, and there were more than a few “Oh My God” moments that left me muttering aloud and shaking my head at the surprising twists.
It's almost hard to believe that Toltz's saga, which is in equal parts engaging and disturbing, is his first novel. It is no surprise however that the book was short-listed for the Man Booker Prize in 2008.
A Fraction Of The Whole chronicles the lives of three generations of the Dean family. Set in rural New South Wales, Sydney, Paris, Bangkok and a Thai jungle, through Toltz's tale we bear witness to the loneliness, isolation, depression, humour, ambition, intellect and insanity of the family members and their cohorts.
The characters we nestle closest to in the telling of this tale are father and son, Martin and Jasper. Martin's story, and those of his parents and brother Terry, are told to Jasper after he is teased about his notorious uncle by schoolmates. A philosopher, Martin is forever burdened by his aloneness, and by the devastation of his family as the bizarre consequences of his seemingly innocuous ideas reach their tragic conclusions.
It seems impossible that something as mundane as a suggestion box could be the cause of dire outcomes for the Deans and their community, just as it seems unlikely that a devoted mother would deliberately harm her beloved son. There are shocks a plenty here; many more than those I have mentioned.
It was refreshing to have no idea where the plot was heading, and unsettling to not stick with any one scenario long enough to sit comfortably in it's groove.
I found the contrasts exciting, and at times frustrating. For example, Martin's long-winded, often demented rants, frequently contained brilliant concepts and startling insights. Jasper's internal monologue was at times so completely at odds with his outward behaviour that it was sometimes difficult to reconcile the thoughts and the behaviour as belonging to the same character.
What made it easier to stick with the book despite the frustrations it sometimes caused, was the writing. Toltz's choice of words to convey the array of ideas contained in this story was quite often beautiful, and I particularly enjoyed his use of similes. The sinking sun as a dissolving lozenge, for example.
Setting the story in Australia also gave Toltz the opportunity to use our national obsession with sporting success as a plot device, and I think it's fair to say he parallels one character's tale with our country's bizarre reverence of colonial criminal Ned Kelly.
The other reason to stay the course with this book is the characters; they are definitely worth sticking around for. Despite their failings, and they all have them, I couldn't help liking most of them. They are so damn interesting. The way they rationalise their behaviour is amusing and authentic. Very few of their actions are thoughtless, and I felt privileged to be able to take a peek inside their minds as they thought through their deeds, or analysed them after the event. Through their internal musings I was introduced to interesting notions I hadn't given too much thought to previously, as well as being moved to dwell on some some aspects of my own life, and the direction I want my life to take.
There are some characters we don't get to know well, such as Jasper's mother Astrid, but we spend enough time with her to get more than a sense of her tormented mind.
This story is heavy going. There are moments of love and light and hope flashes in and out tantalisingly, but these are only rarely glimpsed in the mire of bullying, violence, crime, suicide, infidelity, mental illness, birth, death, and evil found on the pages of this book. Joy comes to the characters briefly in the form of sexual contact, and a feeling of connectedness to nature, but the overwhelming mood is of bleak struggle. A Fraction Of The Whole literally reeks with the stink of human existence. Breathe it in. Deeply.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
We woke up in the shadow of a hung parliament
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Australia has voted. The polls closed eighteen and half hours ago, and we don't know who won the election. We may not know for sure for a week or more, and a hung parliament is looking the most likely outcome at this stage.
I have been surprised this morning at the number of people who I respect and admire that are crying foul over Liberal preferences flowing to the Greens, and helping to secure them one (and possibly two) seats in the lower house, and the balance of power in the Senate.
As far as I know, the Liberals' preferences are a matter for the Liberals, and don't require agreement from the Greens. What are they supposed to do? Say no thank you? It only becomes a concern if there's evidence of dodgy deals to shore up that support.
The only reason the Liberals' preferences came into play is because the Greens primary vote was strong enough to push them into second spot in the count, and those primary votes have drifted, by and large, from Labor.
Labor supporters, and the party itself, would be better served by honestly assessing why that drift has occurred, rather than bleating about how the Libs directed their preferences.
I've also heard, and read, the view that the election result (or non-result) was somehow due to people not paying attention, being distracted, or being tricked. I disagree. I think the will of the electorate, and growing distaste for our two-party system, has been clearly demonstrated. This is no accident. Suck it up folks.
Even the number of informal votes could be seen as a statement, although I'd prefer people frustrated with politics or election campaigns to express it in a way that really counts. It shits me to tears that over half a million votes were wasted, especially following a successful high court case to enable 60,000 additional voters to cast a ballot. I think informal voters are gutless and lazy. It takes courage to make a decision, especially when they're made tougher by not particularly liking any of the choices available.
Decisions will be all the rage in the coming week or two, as final votes are counted, independents are wooed, and the Governor General consulted.
Goodness knows how it will all pan out in the end, but getting there could be one of the most interesting and inspiring journeys our country undertakes.
And as an aside, I couldn't be more pleased that Labor regained the seat of McEwen. It holds a special place in my heart, and it was great to be back there again yesterday. Well done Rob.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Zurich Part 2 - Kunsthaus - 26th June
I am in the cafe courtyard at Kunsthaus in Zurich, Switzerland. I have just visited the gallery and I am enjoying a glass of bitter lemon and listening to loud machinery operating in a nearby street. There are fig trees in the courtyard, a mural, and a sculpture. The ground is covered in loose gravel and the silver metal chairs have blue and white striped cushions on them.
I am not alone in the courtyard. An older man, with white hair and a bald spot, sits at the next table sipping coffee and reading a book. Two women have just entered the courtyard; mother and daughter possibly. One carries a tray with two cups. As they sit, both slip off their shoes and giggle with relief. One, the younger, is putting a fresh corn pad on her left foot.
I know how they feel. My feet and lower legs are also suffering from walking around this large gallery, and standing before it's many fine works.
Kunsthaus is an impressive gallery that strikes a nice balance between works of old masters, and a comprehensive collection of contemporary art.
The first exhibition I viewed featured works by German photographer Thomas Struth. I knew nothing about his work, and to be honest, I entered the exhibition on the basis that his surname is an Australian colloquial exclamation. I found massive prints, rich in colour and detail, on stark white walls in substantial exhibition spaces. His works were grouped by theme; architecture, machinery, landscape, street scenes, family portraits, and interestingly, photos of art gallery visitors reacting to art. I liked the fact that seemingly ordinary subjects became objects of interest and beauty once in the lens of Struth's camera.
From there I entered the wing housing the permanent collection, with something akin to dread. I have realised something about myself recently. The works of the old masters no longer interest me the way they once did. I was initially surprised by this discovery, but I understand it. These ancient works don't have any relevance to my contemporary life and views, and they provoke nothing more than boredom.
As I entered the first room, already mentally rolling my eyes, I heard a voice call out. I couldn't see anyone, although the voice sounded close. I then noticed a piece of carpet had been torn roughly away, to reveal a screen in the floor, smaller than the palm of my hand. A naked woman, being devoured by flames was beseeching, holding her arms up, begging to be rescued. "Get me out of here," I imagined her calling. (She spoke Swiss-German). I could relate. Get me out of here indeed. I scooted through the rooms filled with works by fusty old masters and found the contemporary collection.
Some of it I hated, and some of it I loved. At the very least it provoked a reaction other than boredom. And I broke a rule - despite possessing what I like to think of as a free and easy attitude, I am actually a stickler for rules. The rule I broke? I touched some of the scupltures. There's something about 3d works. They're so textural they're almost begging to be touched. And I really did need to satisfy my curiosity about the work titled "Silent Grey Horse" just to establish if it was made from genuine horse hide. It was.
I did spend some time with the Impressionists too. Monet, Chagall, Van Gogh, and admired the works of Picasso and Dali within the Kunsthaus collection.
The last exhibition I visited was by Albanian video artist Adrian Paci. After the exquisite intensity of discovering the work of French video artist Sylvie Blocher (refer earlier blog) I had high hopes for Paci's exhibition Motion Picture(s). Those hopes were quickly dashed though. Kunsthaus promoted the works as "addressing topics like migration, globalization and cultural identity and uses compelling images to demonstrate the effects of exile, war and social upheaval on the human subject."
Paci is apparently an internationally renowned artist. Maybe so. On the basis of what I saw at Kunsthaus, I'd have to say that I just don't get it. Stop motion scenes of a wedding? Yawn. A giant yarn reel on it's side in the middle of a room? WTF? Only the tawdry, amateurish portrayal of a porn peddler in an Albanian village raised any interest, and that was mild at best.
I guess that's the thing about art - one person's art is another person's great big waste of time. Love it or loathe it, I celebrate the fact that we're free to create it, and people are free (with the exception of admission fees) to see it.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
First impressions of Zurich
It's a Friday night, the World Cup is in full swing with countries being eliminated to determine the make up of the finals, and I am in Zurich Switzerland wondering what the hell I'm doing here.
My impressions may be coloured by the fact that I've had very little sleep this week. Not more than 3 hours a night since Monday. Add to that about 30 hours of travelling on various aircraft and waiting in airport lounges around the world. First Melbourne, then Singapore, then London.
So, Zurich seems to be a mix of ancient buildings, shiny fashionable young people (where are all the old people?) and clocks; lots of clocks.
I'm staying at the Zic Zac Rock Hotel in Marktgasse. Each of the rooms is supposedly themed on a famous rock act. I am in the U2 room. The only attmept at a theme is the guitar patterned carpet (which is consistent throughout the building) and three prints of U2 album covers; Under A Blood Red Sky, Rattle and Hum, and Pop. The bed is comfortable (I took a 5 hour nap this evening), and the staff are friendly in a no-nonense kind of way.
I'm in a room overlooking a square, and a number of bars. In the square there is a gay bar, 3 nightclubs (2 catering to gay patrons), a wine bar, a take-away food place, a clothing shop, a retro clothing and accessories shop, and a fantastic place called the "Condomeria" which is actually a shop selling gloriously coloured sex aids, that seems to be run by a dowdy middle aged woman.
The street (or gasse) is cobble-stoned, and it was amusing to watch women in very high heels trying to walk along the street. That's one thing I have noticed - everyone here wears fantastic shoes. I saw a man in shiny silver loafers! And the women's shoes are evenly split between gorgeous decorative ballet flats and sky high stilettos and wedge heeled shoes.
The language is Swiss German (something I'm not familiar with) and not a lot of English. Communication has been fun since I arrived. I have managed to get my message across; albeit with a sleep deprived jetlagged brain.
Upon arrival at Zurich airport I caught an interairport train that appeared to go to "Heidi" and passed through passport control with a smile and a wink. My plan to take the train into the city was abandoned as I suddenly felt my aloneness and general unpreparedness acutely; I took a cab to Marktgasse.
I checked in to Zic Zac, plugged in an adaptor so I could charge my iPhone, and almost electrocuted myself. The plug box fell off the wall, a spark flew from the box, and the adaptor I'd been given was blackened. In the process, I blew all of the fuses in the room so none of the lights or plugs worked. Awesome.
I took a stroll around the place, without the aid of a map. The streets were filled with predominantly young folk, dressed in stylish casual clothing reflecting the warm summer climate.
I had trouble locating a supermarket at first, but found a small one below ground level (Migros) and then a bigger one near the main train station, called Coop.
I bought toothpaste called Candida (It's just wrong, isn't it?), a packet of chips, Evian water and a punnet of blackberries.
Back at the hotel I discovered they do not have Wifi, and was directed to go to either Starbucks for 15 mins internet access, or a bar called Wings that provides unlimited internet access. I chose Wings. An airline themed bar with a substantial cocktail list and retired airplane seats. They also had a big screen TV inside and out of the bar, which was screening World Cup matches. I sank a very strong gin and tonic, exchanged messages on Facebook, and sent long soppy emails home.
I headed back to Zic Zac and lay on the bed, sleeping for about 5 hours, despite the noise outside my open windows; occasionally waking to the sound of vuvazelas. I woke properly at about 11pm and wandered outside in search of sustenance. Food service seemed to be suspended due to the late hour, but I managed to consume enough wine to hopefully ensure a sound night's sleep.
I went to the Barrique Wine Bar, conveniently located underneath my room. I had trouble conveying my order to the staff, and had to stop them pouring red wine rather than white. Not rose, blanc! That piece of confusion appeared to cost me an extra franc when my change arrived, and the first drink was much smaller than the ones that followed. I quickly learned to say "Danke" rather than "Thank you" or "Merci" and was rewarded with ever-increasing amounts in the glass.
It's now just past midnight. I'm back in my room at Zic Zac, eating blackberries and waiting for the noise outside to die down so I can sleep again. The iPod is really coming in handy in that regard, as I can drown out some of the sound with my music - except the vuvazelas. Their sound penetrates everything.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Animal Kingdom
With my tummy full of yummy Tia Amo antipasto, I strolled over to the Nova with a mate to see the hot new Australian film Animal Kingdom. And I say hot, not in a gushy, girly, American celebrity kind of way, I mean red hot in that it's getting great reviews all over the place. So it won't surprise you to find another one here.
The magnificently orchestrated pace of this film keeps your body thrumming with tension from beginning to end. I knew not what to expect when I walked in, having read somewhere it was somehow linked to the story of known underworld figures in Melbourne, but I could tell from the reviews that this was no Underbelly.
There's no glorifying or romantacising criminal life here. This is a brutal, and one suspects realistic, portrayal of the both the bonds that tie families, and the consequences of living outside the law. These characters are not brilliant criminal masterminds, they're all fairly damaged human beings.
Writer/Director David Michod doesn't let the audience relax for a moment, keeping us taut and expecting the worst, and yet still catching us out with surprising plot developments. This is an unpleasant, uncomfortable movie for the viewer, balanced by outstanding performances from a stellar cast. Jacki Weaver's portrayal of matriarch Janine Cody chilled my marrow; in one scene with the equally brilliant Guy Pearce, you can see the character's cold madness distinctly in Weaver's eyes.
Ben Mendelsohn's character Pope seems innocuous at first, although the level of attention paid to him by the police gives you some indication that this is one bad dude. Bad doesn't seem like a strong enough word to apply to Pope, as we watch him casually and dispassionately dispose of those his paranoid mind believes are in his way.
Newcomer James Frecheville is compelling in the role of "J". A pretty non-descript looking fellow, he has surprisingly little dialogue for a lead character, yet still managed to be mesmerising on screen. The changes his character goes through are internally devestating, but externally subtle. But they're there nonetheless; he stands taller, and more open faced in the film's final sequence, no longer the bowed, slack-jawed, mumbling youth we meet in the opening scene. In fact there's a good deal of restraint and subtlety throughout the film; two of its many strengths.
Just like at a live performance, I do like to try and gauge the audience reaction at the cinema. At the afternoon session of Animal Kingdom at the Nova, people around me were tittering in the right places, gasping and shifting uncomfortably in their seats. One woman close to me uttered the word "fucker" contemptuously, during one scene. If that sounds like your kind of film, get along and see Animal Kingdom. But be prepared to be disturbed.
Friday, June 11, 2010
There's been far too much doom and gloom on this blog of late; time to rectify that.
I started this blog by writing about the Labour Day public holiday and the history of its predecessor, the Eight Hour Day.
In Australia we're about to head in to one of my favourite public holidays, the Queen’s Birthday long weekend. We're a week and a half into Winter and the damp air is settling into my bones, and filling my chest and sinus with fluid. Outdoor activities are limited, and we cheer when the sun makes a brief appearance in the middle of the day. It's a time for jackets and jumpers, hot drinks, stodgy food and snuggling. And time for heaters and slippers, hats and gloves, and marathon movie sessions.
The Queen’s Birthday long weekend marks the start of the ski season in the southern states, another reminder that months of bitter cold await us before the warm Spring air touches our skin again.
I, and many others I suspect, treasure this long weekend because it is our last public holiday for five months. The thought of going so long without a paid day off, usually attached to a weekend, is so unappealing that I want every minute of this long weekend to be 120 seconds long. I want to wring every drop of downtime out of it, to sustain me over the coming long, dark winter days. I want to wrap myself in blankets, read books, watch DVDs, eat hot chips and cuddle the dogs. Most importantly, I want more than anything else to sleep. To not be woken by an alarm, to not wake up when it’s still dark, to wake up when my body decides it’s ready to be active (in a lazy kind of way). This will be some kind of bliss.
What ever you decide to do over this long weekend, enjoy it. It’s a long while until the next one rolls around.
At some point over the weekend, I highly recommend you take a look at this article by Michael Leunig, drawing parallels between Winter and ageing. It's a beautifully written piece, titled The Warm Heart in Winter http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/the-warm-heart-in-winter-20100528-wl26.html
I started this blog by writing about the Labour Day public holiday and the history of its predecessor, the Eight Hour Day.
In Australia we're about to head in to one of my favourite public holidays, the Queen’s Birthday long weekend. We're a week and a half into Winter and the damp air is settling into my bones, and filling my chest and sinus with fluid. Outdoor activities are limited, and we cheer when the sun makes a brief appearance in the middle of the day. It's a time for jackets and jumpers, hot drinks, stodgy food and snuggling. And time for heaters and slippers, hats and gloves, and marathon movie sessions.
The Queen’s Birthday long weekend marks the start of the ski season in the southern states, another reminder that months of bitter cold await us before the warm Spring air touches our skin again.
I, and many others I suspect, treasure this long weekend because it is our last public holiday for five months. The thought of going so long without a paid day off, usually attached to a weekend, is so unappealing that I want every minute of this long weekend to be 120 seconds long. I want to wring every drop of downtime out of it, to sustain me over the coming long, dark winter days. I want to wrap myself in blankets, read books, watch DVDs, eat hot chips and cuddle the dogs. Most importantly, I want more than anything else to sleep. To not be woken by an alarm, to not wake up when it’s still dark, to wake up when my body decides it’s ready to be active (in a lazy kind of way). This will be some kind of bliss.
What ever you decide to do over this long weekend, enjoy it. It’s a long while until the next one rolls around.
At some point over the weekend, I highly recommend you take a look at this article by Michael Leunig, drawing parallels between Winter and ageing. It's a beautifully written piece, titled The Warm Heart in Winter http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/the-warm-heart-in-winter-20100528-wl26.html
Monday, June 7, 2010
In praise of denial
Over the years I have learned that usually the best way for me to address (and get over) issues, concerns, hurt and anger is to confront the source of the problem head on. No matter how daunting the prospect of a difficult conversation has been, I always felt better having said (or yelled) my piece and by having listened and reacted to the response, and adjusting my view of the situation if warranted.
Recently I have had a couple of nasty experiences, too intensely personal to detail on this blog, that have angered, disappointed, hurt and distressed me. Instead of launching straight into confrontation mode I decided to take the time to think things through, and consider all of my options.
Denial was one course of action I considered, but didn’t take up immediately. It didn’t feel right – it didn’t feel like something I could easily do.
So I took an approach of considered confrontation instead. In relation to the first nasty experience, that approach wasn’t entirely satisfying, and in fact raised more questions than it answered. The matter is now in the hands of others, and while I wait for some kind of outcome I have decided the best thing to do is continue on my merry way, denying that anything bad happened or that anything is troubling me, until I’m asked to demonstrate otherwise. I feel much lighter for having made this decision.
Score 1 for denial.
I took a different tack with the second nasty experience, because it felt like there was much more at stake. It started with a stunned but polite exchange followed by a strategic withdrawal into hurt silence, progressed to seeking wise counsel, and ended with a calm expression of my anger and the reasons for it, and a willingness to listen and believe. All good right? Only it wasn’t really the end. But it is in my mind. Why? Because I am consciously choosing to ignore, or deny, coming events. For now at least.
Call it pretence, repression, avoidance, or denial. Say it will all rise up again to bite me on the arse when I least expect it. Claim it will all end in tears. Tell me I’m weak, or stupid. You're probably right on all counts, but I don’t care.
I am consciously and deliberately choosing to embrace denial in my pursuit of fun, and maybe even happiness. And so far it’s working. God help me.
Recently I have had a couple of nasty experiences, too intensely personal to detail on this blog, that have angered, disappointed, hurt and distressed me. Instead of launching straight into confrontation mode I decided to take the time to think things through, and consider all of my options.
Denial was one course of action I considered, but didn’t take up immediately. It didn’t feel right – it didn’t feel like something I could easily do.
So I took an approach of considered confrontation instead. In relation to the first nasty experience, that approach wasn’t entirely satisfying, and in fact raised more questions than it answered. The matter is now in the hands of others, and while I wait for some kind of outcome I have decided the best thing to do is continue on my merry way, denying that anything bad happened or that anything is troubling me, until I’m asked to demonstrate otherwise. I feel much lighter for having made this decision.
Score 1 for denial.
I took a different tack with the second nasty experience, because it felt like there was much more at stake. It started with a stunned but polite exchange followed by a strategic withdrawal into hurt silence, progressed to seeking wise counsel, and ended with a calm expression of my anger and the reasons for it, and a willingness to listen and believe. All good right? Only it wasn’t really the end. But it is in my mind. Why? Because I am consciously choosing to ignore, or deny, coming events. For now at least.
Call it pretence, repression, avoidance, or denial. Say it will all rise up again to bite me on the arse when I least expect it. Claim it will all end in tears. Tell me I’m weak, or stupid. You're probably right on all counts, but I don’t care.
I am consciously and deliberately choosing to embrace denial in my pursuit of fun, and maybe even happiness. And so far it’s working. God help me.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sometimes, I just don't get people.
How is possible that Lithuania's entry in the 2010 Eurovision Song Contest didn't score enough votes make it to tonight's* final? It had everything going for it. A nonsense song with a catchy tune. Six attractive young men dancing up a storm, whipping the audience into a frenzy even before the big costume reveal; six pairs of matching brown tartan trousers whipped off to uncover silver spangled short pants. Is that not picture perfect Eurovision?
When I tallied my scorecard at the end of the night, after awarding points for the song, fashion, dance, performance and X factor, Lithuanan act InCulto's song Eastern European Funk, while not even remotely funky, was at the top.
For Lithuania not to make the final 20 is a travesty, particularly when you consider the acts that did make the final, whose performances weren't as strong as InCulto's. I'm still shuddering at the though of Ireland taking to the stage again, not least because of the frightful, unflattering frock adorning the frame of past Eurovision winner Niamh Kavanagh.
Lithuania were not the only entry that should be gracing the stage tonight, but won't. Sieneke, from the Netherlands, was very stiff to miss out with the cheerful Ik Ben Verlied (Sha-la-lie). Composed by Pierre Kartner, who is also responsible for The Smurf Song, the song is a fun sing along tune. On the Eurovision stage Sieneke was joined by 3 back up singers and 2 giant clock figurines. You can catch a video of their performance on the Eurovision website, but sadly their Eurovision 2010 dream is over.
With my favourites out of the race, I'll be cheering for the entries from Cyprus (mostly comprised of people from Wales), Romania (despite their decision to rhyme fire with desire, repeatedly), and the rock gods from Turkey (the robot slicing itself with an angle grinder mid-song should secure them a win). I hear the Russian entry is pretty good too.
*In real world time the Final has already occurred. In Australian Television time, the Final will be decided tonight.
How is possible that Lithuania's entry in the 2010 Eurovision Song Contest didn't score enough votes make it to tonight's* final? It had everything going for it. A nonsense song with a catchy tune. Six attractive young men dancing up a storm, whipping the audience into a frenzy even before the big costume reveal; six pairs of matching brown tartan trousers whipped off to uncover silver spangled short pants. Is that not picture perfect Eurovision?
When I tallied my scorecard at the end of the night, after awarding points for the song, fashion, dance, performance and X factor, Lithuanan act InCulto's song Eastern European Funk, while not even remotely funky, was at the top.
For Lithuania not to make the final 20 is a travesty, particularly when you consider the acts that did make the final, whose performances weren't as strong as InCulto's. I'm still shuddering at the though of Ireland taking to the stage again, not least because of the frightful, unflattering frock adorning the frame of past Eurovision winner Niamh Kavanagh.
Lithuania were not the only entry that should be gracing the stage tonight, but won't. Sieneke, from the Netherlands, was very stiff to miss out with the cheerful Ik Ben Verlied (Sha-la-lie). Composed by Pierre Kartner, who is also responsible for The Smurf Song, the song is a fun sing along tune. On the Eurovision stage Sieneke was joined by 3 back up singers and 2 giant clock figurines. You can catch a video of their performance on the Eurovision website, but sadly their Eurovision 2010 dream is over.
With my favourites out of the race, I'll be cheering for the entries from Cyprus (mostly comprised of people from Wales), Romania (despite their decision to rhyme fire with desire, repeatedly), and the rock gods from Turkey (the robot slicing itself with an angle grinder mid-song should secure them a win). I hear the Russian entry is pretty good too.
*In real world time the Final has already occurred. In Australian Television time, the Final will be decided tonight.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Lucky, lucky me.
It's Friday night. I've got Eurovision on in the background. A muted background, as the television and stereo speakers appear to be failing.
I've had a few glasses of wine, a fairly non-descript New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. And I'm eating cheese bicsuits dipped in salsa and reheated fettucine carbonara.
I'm sitting in the kitchen. The laptop is on the bench in the middle of the room, and I'm sitting on the step-ladder chair that Louise gave me. Awkwardly, because I can't slide my legs under anything - they're butting up against the cupboard doors, and I'm leaning forward at the waist.
I have the mobile phone close by, because I've been exchanging text messages with my dearest friends. Sorting out arrangements for tomorrow, and sorting through the day's events.
I've had a hard week emotionally. The hardest in a while. I reckon I have lived long enough to appreciate the cyclical nature of life. What goes around comes around. Life's a rollercoaster. What goes up must come down.
It's hard though, when it all goes down at once. When every area of your life takes a hit. It leaves you feeling shattered.You get hit so hard that you feel like you're going to keel over, or you can't breathe.
Thankfully, I have amazing friends who stepped forward to prop me up. You know you have love in your life when that happens, and I appreciate just how lucky I am to have these wise, strong women in my life. It would be harder to put back all the pieces, without them.
But put them back I must.
I've had a few glasses of wine, a fairly non-descript New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. And I'm eating cheese bicsuits dipped in salsa and reheated fettucine carbonara.
I'm sitting in the kitchen. The laptop is on the bench in the middle of the room, and I'm sitting on the step-ladder chair that Louise gave me. Awkwardly, because I can't slide my legs under anything - they're butting up against the cupboard doors, and I'm leaning forward at the waist.
I have the mobile phone close by, because I've been exchanging text messages with my dearest friends. Sorting out arrangements for tomorrow, and sorting through the day's events.
I've had a hard week emotionally. The hardest in a while. I reckon I have lived long enough to appreciate the cyclical nature of life. What goes around comes around. Life's a rollercoaster. What goes up must come down.
It's hard though, when it all goes down at once. When every area of your life takes a hit. It leaves you feeling shattered.You get hit so hard that you feel like you're going to keel over, or you can't breathe.
Thankfully, I have amazing friends who stepped forward to prop me up. You know you have love in your life when that happens, and I appreciate just how lucky I am to have these wise, strong women in my life. It would be harder to put back all the pieces, without them.
But put them back I must.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A day for healing music
The road to recovery can be long, and you need to stop every once in a while for a rest, to help the healing.
The music that helped my healing today.
The Polyphonic Spree album - Together We're Heavy
Radiohead albums - OK Computer and The Bends
Dire Staits album - Money for Nothing (until I got bored with it)
Ben Harper album - The Will to Live
They Might Be Giants track - Where do they make balloons?
Archie Roach track - Walking into doors
Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunipingu & Sting track - Every breath you take
Fleet Foxes track - Ragged wood
I hope you're all having a lovely Saturday.
The music that helped my healing today.
The Polyphonic Spree album - Together We're Heavy
Radiohead albums - OK Computer and The Bends
Dire Staits album - Money for Nothing (until I got bored with it)
Ben Harper album - The Will to Live
They Might Be Giants track - Where do they make balloons?
Archie Roach track - Walking into doors
Geoffrey Gurrumul Yunipingu & Sting track - Every breath you take
Fleet Foxes track - Ragged wood
I hope you're all having a lovely Saturday.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
For the love of dogs
You may have heard the news reports this week. In separate incidents, two women died trying to save dogs. One woman ran back into her burning home to rescue her pet, and perished. Another tried to rescue a dog stranded on a busy highway, and was hit by a vehicle.
Loyalty goes both ways, it seems.
They’re sad stories, about unfulfilled potential. The women, both fairly young, were under forty. Were their actions stupid? Reckless? Probably. But I completely understand why they did it.
As far as companions go, dogs are top-notch. They’re always delighted to see you when you arrive home at the end of the day, they want to be in your company without demanding much more than your presence, and they will defend and protect you regardless of their stature, age or mobility. They are faithful.
Single occupant dwellings are the new black. Although we’re more connected than ever thanks to the internet and social networking, more of us live alone nowadays.
When my circumstances changed five years ago, and my full house became an empty nest every second week, I thought I might die from loneliness. We are social creatures, and while I craved some alone time, the reality of a half-full life was hard to take at first. Despite the efforts of beautiful friends to help me fill the time, too many hours were spent on the couch with just a wine bottle and a teddy bear for company.
A sad-arsed existence was not sustainable for me, so I got myself a furry little companion named Rosie. And committed myself to another long-term relationship. Dogs can live for up to twenty years, and I was in for the long haul.
From my perspective, our relationship was great, and my health improved as couch-bound wine-guzzling time was replaced or reduced by long walks with Rosie. About a year into our relationship though, I realised poor Rosie was suffering as I had been before her arrival. She was lonely during the days when I was working. She was demented with joy when I arrived home, and more and more demanding of attention. For her sake, and mine, I had to bring a second dog into our home.
Ethan joined our family about two and half years ago. He’d been dumped in Mildura, and brought to Melbourne by a dog rescue organisation, hoping to place him in a new home. He was a little skittish when he first arrived, and still has an aversion to some things, but overall he’s a jolly little fellow and he and Rosie are utterly devoted to one another.
They’ve seen me through so many challenges and successes over the last few years, and have kept me company in lonely times. They’ve scared me, when they’ve gone missing or been injured, and they’ve made me laugh with their crazy antics. I owe them.
Would I run into a burning building to save them, if they were in peril? It’s difficult to know exactly what you would do until you’re in a particular situation, but I think I would. The thought of losing them distresses me, that’s for sure. It’s tragic that lives have been lost trying to save a couple of dogs. But I totally get it. RIP ladies.
Loyalty goes both ways, it seems.
They’re sad stories, about unfulfilled potential. The women, both fairly young, were under forty. Were their actions stupid? Reckless? Probably. But I completely understand why they did it.
As far as companions go, dogs are top-notch. They’re always delighted to see you when you arrive home at the end of the day, they want to be in your company without demanding much more than your presence, and they will defend and protect you regardless of their stature, age or mobility. They are faithful.
Single occupant dwellings are the new black. Although we’re more connected than ever thanks to the internet and social networking, more of us live alone nowadays.
When my circumstances changed five years ago, and my full house became an empty nest every second week, I thought I might die from loneliness. We are social creatures, and while I craved some alone time, the reality of a half-full life was hard to take at first. Despite the efforts of beautiful friends to help me fill the time, too many hours were spent on the couch with just a wine bottle and a teddy bear for company.
A sad-arsed existence was not sustainable for me, so I got myself a furry little companion named Rosie. And committed myself to another long-term relationship. Dogs can live for up to twenty years, and I was in for the long haul.
From my perspective, our relationship was great, and my health improved as couch-bound wine-guzzling time was replaced or reduced by long walks with Rosie. About a year into our relationship though, I realised poor Rosie was suffering as I had been before her arrival. She was lonely during the days when I was working. She was demented with joy when I arrived home, and more and more demanding of attention. For her sake, and mine, I had to bring a second dog into our home.
Ethan joined our family about two and half years ago. He’d been dumped in Mildura, and brought to Melbourne by a dog rescue organisation, hoping to place him in a new home. He was a little skittish when he first arrived, and still has an aversion to some things, but overall he’s a jolly little fellow and he and Rosie are utterly devoted to one another.
They’ve seen me through so many challenges and successes over the last few years, and have kept me company in lonely times. They’ve scared me, when they’ve gone missing or been injured, and they’ve made me laugh with their crazy antics. I owe them.
Would I run into a burning building to save them, if they were in peril? It’s difficult to know exactly what you would do until you’re in a particular situation, but I think I would. The thought of losing them distresses me, that’s for sure. It’s tragic that lives have been lost trying to save a couple of dogs. But I totally get it. RIP ladies.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Seven Days of Awesomeness - The Album
No, not an album as in a record or a cd. A photo album on Flickr of things I noticed around me over seven days in March. Check it out here.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Things to do in Sydney 1: Take an art class
Every Saturday morning in a quiet Surry Hills lane, a bunch of folks gather to have their noggins engaged and their fingers stretched by brisk, no-nonense art instructor Jenny Hall.
The Brett Whiteley Studio hosts 2 hour sessions, open to all regardless of previous experience or ability, in the former home, studio and gallery of the popular Australian artist.
Jenny is a friendly and welcoming teacher, who knows you're there to draw and learn in a time period that evaporates all too quickly. Taking up to 10 students each Saturday, the pace is comfortable enough for everyone to keep up, yet still covers a lot of ground. The time flew by, but I managed to learn a fair bit.
Costs for all materials and the model's fee are covered by the $40 charge, so all you have to do is turn up. But be prepared to be a little wrong footed in the name of learning. There are quick poses to begin with, to warm up our fingers and to warm up our brains we did a series of 60 second sketches, drawn without looking at the paper. Like this one, which I think looks like an alien:
Then we did more 60 second poses, looking at the paper this time, trying to get down as much of the lines and shapes of the body as we could in the short time frame.
To disabuse us of the idea that our work was in any way precious, or that we should be precious about it, we did a series of sketches where the model slightly changed position every few minutes and we had to adjust the drawing to the new pose, drawing over and over our work.
Classes are in the gallery space, so members of the public are wandering about while the workshop is in session. Being around people reacting to your work as you are creating it is both scary and powerful. Staying focused on the model's latest pose is one of way of not being over-awed by the public viewing and commentary.
The two hours flies by, and afterwards if you wander up to the main drag you may be lucky enough to find the Surry Hills Saturday market in Crown Street. Nice people, good quality stuff, not too over-priced and good food. There are worse ways to spend a Saturday.
Info on art workshops at Brett Whiteley Studio
Info on Surry Hills Markets
Monday, April 12, 2010
Show me your Kunst, Melbourne.
Attention Melbourne. You people only have until this Saturday night to experience the latest offering from indie rock outfit Die Roten Punkte. Just a few more days to show us your Kunst.
Super musicians and siblings Otto and Astrid Rot are in hot demand in Canada, Scotland and Adelaide where they've picked up a swag of festival awards, and Melbourne International Comedy Festival audiences are lapping up the duo's new show Kunst Rock.
Hailing from Berlin, Otto and Astrid are the yin and yang of rock. Party girl Astrid is hot on the skins and very popular on the festival circuit with the gentlemen, while straight-laced vegan and abstinence advocate Otto directs his energies to mastering his collection of mini guitars, and the crowd-pleasing keytar.
Together, Die Roten Punkte (German for The Red Dots) deliver an evening of great music punctuated by hilarious dialogue and antics. It's a bit like Jerry Springer with likeable people. Desire, fear, jealousy, addiction are all on display as Otto and Astrid yank us closer to their murky relationship.
These performers seem to totally inhabit their over-the-top characters, and they're so authentic it's easy to forget Otto and Astrid aren't the performers' true identities. Go hang out with them at the merchandise table after the show and witness their immersion first-hand.
I can't get enough of these artists, and I declare my hand as a rabid fan.
Their opening night show was packed, with plenty of new audience members alongside the slavish devotees. The new songs were winners, and there were plenty of fresh gags to keep us giggling.
If absurdity is your thing, and you're a music lover, get along to Kunst Rock before it closes on Saturday.
Sydneysiders aren't missing out. Die Roten Punkte are reprising their Robot/Lion tour for Sydney audiences, taking the show the harbour city for a short Sydney Comedy Festival run commencing in late April. Get in quick.
Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Kunst Rock at the Arts Centre in Melbourne.
Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Robot Lion tour at the Metro in Sydney.
Super musicians and siblings Otto and Astrid Rot are in hot demand in Canada, Scotland and Adelaide where they've picked up a swag of festival awards, and Melbourne International Comedy Festival audiences are lapping up the duo's new show Kunst Rock.
Hailing from Berlin, Otto and Astrid are the yin and yang of rock. Party girl Astrid is hot on the skins and very popular on the festival circuit with the gentlemen, while straight-laced vegan and abstinence advocate Otto directs his energies to mastering his collection of mini guitars, and the crowd-pleasing keytar.
Together, Die Roten Punkte (German for The Red Dots) deliver an evening of great music punctuated by hilarious dialogue and antics. It's a bit like Jerry Springer with likeable people. Desire, fear, jealousy, addiction are all on display as Otto and Astrid yank us closer to their murky relationship.
These performers seem to totally inhabit their over-the-top characters, and they're so authentic it's easy to forget Otto and Astrid aren't the performers' true identities. Go hang out with them at the merchandise table after the show and witness their immersion first-hand.
I can't get enough of these artists, and I declare my hand as a rabid fan.
Their opening night show was packed, with plenty of new audience members alongside the slavish devotees. The new songs were winners, and there were plenty of fresh gags to keep us giggling.
If absurdity is your thing, and you're a music lover, get along to Kunst Rock before it closes on Saturday.
Sydneysiders aren't missing out. Die Roten Punkte are reprising their Robot/Lion tour for Sydney audiences, taking the show the harbour city for a short Sydney Comedy Festival run commencing in late April. Get in quick.
Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Kunst Rock at the Arts Centre in Melbourne.
Book tix for Die Roten Punkte: Robot Lion tour at the Metro in Sydney.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
What is missing?
I've borrowed the title of today's blog from a great exhibition at Sydney's Museum of Contemporary Art.
French multimedia artist Sylvie Blocher asked residents of Penrith New South Wales to talk on camera about what is missing, from their lives, their community and their country.
This video portrait of a microcosm of Australian contemporary society is funny, shocking and at times uncomfortable to watch. Along with this film, MCA exhibited other Blocher video projects. As a whole, Blocher's work was a fascinating examination of human emotions and desires, and I was so immersed in it that despite spending two and half hours there, I wasn't able to see all of the video packages on show.
I was particularly struck by the videos I and Us from the Living Pictures projects and Nanling from the Urban Stories projects.
In I and Us, the fringe dwellers of France were given a voice, their simple messages printed onto t-shirts while they stared silently down the barrel of the camera. It was incredibly powerful, and I felt compelled to stand and watch the whole 55 minute screening. With their words and their faces, 100 people of the Beaudottes area of Sevran, France made me smile, laugh, gasp, and cry.
An excerpt from Blocher's film Nanling screened as a diptych, was particularly moving. On one wall endless footage of high rise housing in South China screened, panning slowly up buildings housing identical, tiny, living quarters. On another screen was a 9 minute silent film of Blocher's encounter with a Nanling woman. The woman had not met a white European before, and was keen to have physical contact with her. Sylvie allowed the woman to do whatever she wished to her body, as long as she could capture the encounter on film. What followed was an extraordinarily beautiful, candid and uncomfortable meeting. The woman touched Sylvie boldly, and lovingly, the bliss of her unfettered access to another human being shone from her face. When Blocher could take no more she gently removed the woman's hands and hugged her and we could see that the Nanling woman's face was serene and peaceful.
As a person who doesn't experience the touch of another human being very often, I had enormous sympathy for the Nanling woman. And I envied her opportunity to gently explore the body of another with her hands and fingertips, without any expectation or giving of herself in return.
When the MCA closed for the day, and I stepped back out into the throng of people at Circular Quay I felt lighter, and inspired by all I had seen.
In the days following my return to Melbourne, creative ideas flooded me and I speedily documented potential art projects. It was exciting and satisfying to think about the ways I could express and present these ideas in an appealing and meaningful way.
Exactly one week after visiting MCA, I feel creatively bereft. There are commissions and projects sitting patiently on my to-do list, and I can't drum up any enthusiasm for them whatsoever. In the same week, Autumn has settled into Melbourne's bones, and the cool wind is whisking away our long summer days much the same way it will blow the leaves from the trees. It's time for retreating into the bunker and surviving on stodge. It's time for blankets and slippers and tea and toast. Everything is slowing down, even it seems, me.
What is missing? I'm not lacking inspiration, ideas, or materials. So what is holding me back? What is missing? Could it be warmth? Touch? Love? Rest? Space? Time?
Check out the work of Sylvie Blocher.
What is Missing? is on at the Museum of Contemporary Art until April 26th.
French multimedia artist Sylvie Blocher asked residents of Penrith New South Wales to talk on camera about what is missing, from their lives, their community and their country.
This video portrait of a microcosm of Australian contemporary society is funny, shocking and at times uncomfortable to watch. Along with this film, MCA exhibited other Blocher video projects. As a whole, Blocher's work was a fascinating examination of human emotions and desires, and I was so immersed in it that despite spending two and half hours there, I wasn't able to see all of the video packages on show.
I was particularly struck by the videos I and Us from the Living Pictures projects and Nanling from the Urban Stories projects.
In I and Us, the fringe dwellers of France were given a voice, their simple messages printed onto t-shirts while they stared silently down the barrel of the camera. It was incredibly powerful, and I felt compelled to stand and watch the whole 55 minute screening. With their words and their faces, 100 people of the Beaudottes area of Sevran, France made me smile, laugh, gasp, and cry.
An excerpt from Blocher's film Nanling screened as a diptych, was particularly moving. On one wall endless footage of high rise housing in South China screened, panning slowly up buildings housing identical, tiny, living quarters. On another screen was a 9 minute silent film of Blocher's encounter with a Nanling woman. The woman had not met a white European before, and was keen to have physical contact with her. Sylvie allowed the woman to do whatever she wished to her body, as long as she could capture the encounter on film. What followed was an extraordinarily beautiful, candid and uncomfortable meeting. The woman touched Sylvie boldly, and lovingly, the bliss of her unfettered access to another human being shone from her face. When Blocher could take no more she gently removed the woman's hands and hugged her and we could see that the Nanling woman's face was serene and peaceful.
As a person who doesn't experience the touch of another human being very often, I had enormous sympathy for the Nanling woman. And I envied her opportunity to gently explore the body of another with her hands and fingertips, without any expectation or giving of herself in return.
When the MCA closed for the day, and I stepped back out into the throng of people at Circular Quay I felt lighter, and inspired by all I had seen.
In the days following my return to Melbourne, creative ideas flooded me and I speedily documented potential art projects. It was exciting and satisfying to think about the ways I could express and present these ideas in an appealing and meaningful way.
Exactly one week after visiting MCA, I feel creatively bereft. There are commissions and projects sitting patiently on my to-do list, and I can't drum up any enthusiasm for them whatsoever. In the same week, Autumn has settled into Melbourne's bones, and the cool wind is whisking away our long summer days much the same way it will blow the leaves from the trees. It's time for retreating into the bunker and surviving on stodge. It's time for blankets and slippers and tea and toast. Everything is slowing down, even it seems, me.
What is missing? I'm not lacking inspiration, ideas, or materials. So what is holding me back? What is missing? Could it be warmth? Touch? Love? Rest? Space? Time?
Check out the work of Sylvie Blocher.
What is Missing? is on at the Museum of Contemporary Art until April 26th.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Homecoming music
After an exhiliarating, confronting, reinforcing, emotionally charged, busy couple of days away, my weary, foot-sore body has been cosseted by sweet, sweet sounds as it wended it's way home, and settled back in. More about my Sydney sojourn soon. Today, I'm giving a shout out to the soundtrack to my day.
The Wailin' Jennys track, The Parting Glass
The Swell Season album, Strict Joy
The Polyphonic Spree track, Suitcase Calling
Tim Buckley album, Tim Buckley
Belle and Sebastian album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress
Colin Hay album, Going Somewhere
Carole King album, Tapestry
Marianne Faithfull album, A Collection Of Her Best Recordings
Check out the ones you haven't heard before. Pull out your old copies of the ones you have heard of, and give them another listen. You won't regret it.
The Wailin' Jennys track, The Parting Glass
The Swell Season album, Strict Joy
The Polyphonic Spree track, Suitcase Calling
Tim Buckley album, Tim Buckley
Belle and Sebastian album, Dear Catastrophe Waitress
Colin Hay album, Going Somewhere
Carole King album, Tapestry
Marianne Faithfull album, A Collection Of Her Best Recordings
Check out the ones you haven't heard before. Pull out your old copies of the ones you have heard of, and give them another listen. You won't regret it.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
School holidays. Rest and recharge, or pack it full?
The first school holiday fornight of the year is upon us, along with the enduring question: what will we do?
Thinking back, I can remember school holidays that were so full of activities we were exhausted by the end of them.
Outings mainly, to the movies, the zoo, the museum, play-dates, picnics, camping trips and driving holidays.
I've been doing the school holiday thing for so long now, my body marks its approach. Exhaustion floods me and I get cranky. It's harder for the kids to get out of bed in the morning, and we grumble at each other.
To fill our much needed break with as much fun as we can stand seems such a waste of what could be a period of rest. Rest from getting up early, making lunches and rushing to catch trains.
Each time the holidays have rolled around, we've scheduled less and less. This school holidays, we scheduled nothing at all.
It's been bliss.
For so much of the year we're fleeting visitors to our home, spending much more time away from it that in it. And when we are here, we're either cooking, eating, cleaning or sleeping. It has been nice to spend uninterrupted days pottering around our base.
The other thing that's been different about these holidays is the absence of electronic games. The playstation, the DS and the Wii are banned from use, and the computer is off-limits to children. We've always had limits on the use of these playthings, so the kids have had to find other ways to amuse themselves when game-time was up. Meaning going without this time wasn't such a stretch.
So far they've read books, played outside heaps, and spent time with their dogs and their old toys. They've watched some tv, but haven't been glued to it. Both of my children are writing autobiographies as school projects, so we've been looking at old photos and telling family stories. It's been lovely.
And because we've had no plans we turned all of the alarms off and have slept for at least ten hours a night, and we've had time to cook good meals.
We've had a real rest, before throwing ourselves back in to the world. And boy, did we need it.
What's everybody else doing?
Thinking back, I can remember school holidays that were so full of activities we were exhausted by the end of them.
Outings mainly, to the movies, the zoo, the museum, play-dates, picnics, camping trips and driving holidays.
I've been doing the school holiday thing for so long now, my body marks its approach. Exhaustion floods me and I get cranky. It's harder for the kids to get out of bed in the morning, and we grumble at each other.
To fill our much needed break with as much fun as we can stand seems such a waste of what could be a period of rest. Rest from getting up early, making lunches and rushing to catch trains.
Each time the holidays have rolled around, we've scheduled less and less. This school holidays, we scheduled nothing at all.
It's been bliss.
For so much of the year we're fleeting visitors to our home, spending much more time away from it that in it. And when we are here, we're either cooking, eating, cleaning or sleeping. It has been nice to spend uninterrupted days pottering around our base.
The other thing that's been different about these holidays is the absence of electronic games. The playstation, the DS and the Wii are banned from use, and the computer is off-limits to children. We've always had limits on the use of these playthings, so the kids have had to find other ways to amuse themselves when game-time was up. Meaning going without this time wasn't such a stretch.
So far they've read books, played outside heaps, and spent time with their dogs and their old toys. They've watched some tv, but haven't been glued to it. Both of my children are writing autobiographies as school projects, so we've been looking at old photos and telling family stories. It's been lovely.
And because we've had no plans we turned all of the alarms off and have slept for at least ten hours a night, and we've had time to cook good meals.
We've had a real rest, before throwing ourselves back in to the world. And boy, did we need it.
What's everybody else doing?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Music for nerds
One of my projects on this week off work is to broadcast as many songs from the NBC television program Chuck as I can find on Blip.fm. As you do.
At our place, we're mad for Chuck. It's a good quality program with a fantastic cast, and an interesting and well executed premise. And it's perfect viewing for everyone in our family.
Although there are romantic threads and sexual tension in the Chuck story arc, along with plenty of violence and intrigue, the material is delivered without gratuitous gore, nudity or immoderate language. Not that there's anything wrong with such things, they're just not prime viewing choices for children.
It's a relief to find television that is thoroughly entertaining and appealing to all age groups and still appropriate for children to watch.
Chuck manages to be all this, and has a rockin' soundtrack to boot. FTW.
The first thing I noticed about the Chuck soundtrack was lack of recognition. Many were songs I'd never heard. But gee they were good. Interesting. A whole lot of music waiting to be discovered. The thought of such exploration is delicious.
So for the last 2 days I've been Blipping songs from Chuck, sequentially. I've managed to find most of them on the Blip.fm database - only a couple were too obscure. The singer Daniel May remains unknown to me, and the rest of the Blipverse.
I did Blip the two Air Supply songs that featured on a couple of episodes, but I drew the line and refused to Blip Huey Lewis and The News. What does that say about me?
There's probably another day and a half of Blipping ahead of me, around other things I'm doing on my week off. There are plenty of artists and bands I want to hear more of as a result of this lazy little indulgence, like the New Pornographers, Matt Pond PA, Band of Horses, Local Natives, Love Grenades, Frightened Rabbit and Starflyer 59.
I tried to find a widget that would display my Blips on this blog. Until I find one, you can hear my playlist at: http://blip.fm/LeanneS
And if you haven't seen the show, check it out: http://www.nbc.com/chuck/
At our place, we're mad for Chuck. It's a good quality program with a fantastic cast, and an interesting and well executed premise. And it's perfect viewing for everyone in our family.
Although there are romantic threads and sexual tension in the Chuck story arc, along with plenty of violence and intrigue, the material is delivered without gratuitous gore, nudity or immoderate language. Not that there's anything wrong with such things, they're just not prime viewing choices for children.
It's a relief to find television that is thoroughly entertaining and appealing to all age groups and still appropriate for children to watch.
Chuck manages to be all this, and has a rockin' soundtrack to boot. FTW.
The first thing I noticed about the Chuck soundtrack was lack of recognition. Many were songs I'd never heard. But gee they were good. Interesting. A whole lot of music waiting to be discovered. The thought of such exploration is delicious.
So for the last 2 days I've been Blipping songs from Chuck, sequentially. I've managed to find most of them on the Blip.fm database - only a couple were too obscure. The singer Daniel May remains unknown to me, and the rest of the Blipverse.
I did Blip the two Air Supply songs that featured on a couple of episodes, but I drew the line and refused to Blip Huey Lewis and The News. What does that say about me?
There's probably another day and a half of Blipping ahead of me, around other things I'm doing on my week off. There are plenty of artists and bands I want to hear more of as a result of this lazy little indulgence, like the New Pornographers, Matt Pond PA, Band of Horses, Local Natives, Love Grenades, Frightened Rabbit and Starflyer 59.
I tried to find a widget that would display my Blips on this blog. Until I find one, you can hear my playlist at: http://blip.fm/LeanneS
And if you haven't seen the show, check it out: http://www.nbc.com/chuck/
Monday, March 29, 2010
Definition of bliss
Monday morning. Still at home. Sporting pj's and bed hair. Lounging around with my children. Avoiding this:
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Seven Days of Awesomeness - WhatWhenWhereWhy?
What?
I have previously listed all of the people I spent time with during the Seven Days of Awesomeness. In this list of what I did over the week I have named who I travelled with and who I specifically went to meet. Meaningful contact with other people occurred, either as part of the the activities listed or in the run of the mill workings of the other bits of my life.
I haven't listed the individual performers or musicians whose shows I enjoyed, but have listed the acts and the venues.
Not everything in this list falls into the category "awesome". But everything on here was significant.
When, Where
Start: 5:45 am Friday 19th March, 2010
Finish: 2:10 am Thursday 25th March, 2010
Friday
Rostered Day Off
Interschool athletics carnival
Farewelled my children for a week
Coffee and a long overdue catch up with Sonia
Anytime Place with Sonia and Chris, to see Die Roten Punkte, Toy Death and an excellent collaboration by three one-man bands.
Saturday
Moomba Park Netball Club U/11's game
Coffee in Fairfield with Lachie, Darcy and Jason
Australian Girls Choir demonstration class
Afternoon drinks fundraiser at the Peacock Hotel with Lindy and Cathy
Evening drinks, dinner and general hilarity in Clifton Hill with Jackie, John, Catherine, Casey and Sol.
Sunday
Sleep in until 9am
Visit from Amanda, bearing True Blood dvds and tales of her exploits
The House of Bernada Alba at Northcote Town Hall with Anna
In bed by 9pm
Monday
Work
Booked tix for The Swell Season at Sydney Opera House
Parent-Teacher interviews
Re-elected School Council President in absentia
Pixies at Festival Hall with Andrea
Tuesday
Work
5 hour meeting at ACTU
Unexpected houseguest
Go-Go class X 2 with Richard at the Bendigo Hotel
Wednesday
Work
7am meeting in St Kilda Rd
Go-Go class at Bella Union
Thursday
Work
Payday
Booked art class at Brett Whiteley studio
Lunch with Andrew and Judy at Tokyo Garden
The Swell Season at the Palais
Casey Bennetto and The Half Arsed Three with special guests at Bella Union
In bed 2.10 am. And thankfully, life didn't stop being awesome at midnight.
Why record this week?
Even though in a typical fortnight I will often have a week with lots of evening commitments, it's not that often that I have something on every night. My evening commitments were all bound to be entertaining, pleasurable and noteworthy. The schedule would take me to locations I don't get to very often, but immensely enjoy visiting, like St Kilda and Clifton Hill. It was lovely to approach my city Melbourne from the south for a change. The view is awesome.
Seven Days of Awesomeness - Who?
Sleep. Blessed sleep. I am restored, to an extent. Although I seem to have picked up an uncomfortable stomach bug, and spot of seasonal malaise. It's Autumn. A time to drop our leaves and shut down before the approaching Winter beats down our door. And I have had a big week.
As I said yesterday, I'm done. Seven Days of Awesomeness is complete. I hurried off a list yesterday, between meetings at work. And yeah, it's pretty basic, and not all that deep.
I'm pleased I saw it through. I wondered about the wisdom of announcing my plans, rather than just reporting on my activities after the fact. I ran the risk of failing, and looking like a bit of a dick.
It feels good to have stuck to my word, persisting even when I didn't feel like it. Having pre-arranged, ticketed things to do was certainly a help. It's not so easy to duck out of those things, as it's a waste if you do.
There were a few days when I felt uninspired and weary, and not the slightest bit creative.
It felt important to finish what I had started, so I pushed myself to look around, see the world, find the beauty or something of interest to record.
Is that commitment? Because I don't do so well with commitment. If it is, then it's nice to know I can do it. Committing to something that only lasts a week isn't such a huge commitment though. I really should aim for something bigger, or longer, before I can tick that one off.
Sharing my plans before starting encouraged my friends and colleagues to talk about the project, and hopefully they felt like they were part of it. I deliberately did not photograph any of the people I spent time with, well not their faces anyway. If I had, I would have needed to ask people to pose, which would have been too contrived for the project and may have made people feel uncomfortable, or take candid snaps, which again can cause discomfort and feels a little rude. I didn't want to observe or study people, I wanted to spend time with them and enjoy their company.
So even though you won't see many people in my project photos, the people in my life were a huge part of Seven Days. The best part of it actually.
I kept a list of everyone I had meaningful contact with over the week. Many of these people had repeat appearances, and with some of them, especially those far, far away from me, our contact was not in person, but online.
So, here's a list of everyone I would like to thank for being part of the project, being part of my professional life, being part of my personal life, and being part of my family.
In order of appearance during Seven Days of Awesomeness:
Lachie, Darcy, Bronson, Mikaela, Elena, Jane, Alison, Tony, Jason, Sonia, Chris, Dan, Clare, Megan, Juan, Isobel, Jack, Emily, Miss Gidley, the Saturday Avanti class of the Australian Girls Choir, Lindy, Cathy, John, Jacky, Casey, Catherine, Sol, Vince, Vince's Dad, Amanda, Anna, Sam, Tracey, Erin, Minnie, Mandy, Matt, Bec, Paul, Ilaria, Liu, Rana, Ange, Jackie, Rod, Jamey, Anaya, Stuart, Peter, Andrea, Simon, Dan, Wendy, Julian, Sam, Andrew, Brigid, Leon, Richard, Georgie, Kev, hand-slapping go-go partner, James, Susan, Roger, Louise, Michelle, Sarah, Adrian, Jacob, Dave, Katherine, Andrew, Judy, Vanessa, the man I sat next to at the gig, Mike, Enio.
Friday, March 26, 2010
All awesomed-out
Well, I made it. My little Seven Days of Awesomeness project is over. And I’m a little bit weary, but it was a whole lot of fun.
I saw some beautiful and crazy performances, spent time with wonderful people, and learned a little bit about myself, and my surroundings.
I have a stack of photos to sort through, and I can already tell you that some will never see the light of day.
You can expect a few blogs in the post-awesomeness space as I think through the entire experience, but off the top of my sleep-deprived head, here are some of the things I learned about myself:
- I like taking photos, but I am not a photographer
- I drink a lot
- I spend a lot of time in my car
- I spend a lot of time in traffic
- I really enjoy night. Being out in the night especially
- I revel in solitude, but I also enjoy company
- I’m lucky to be surrounded by so many good people
- I have a lot of music, joy and love in my life.
Gotta fly now. More soon.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Seven Days of Awesomeness
On Thursday I realised that I was fortunate enough to have something fun planned for each of the next seven days.
I was looking forward the mix of activities on the menu, and cheekily proclaimed it Seven Days of Awesomeness.
When some of my plans for the first day fell through, and were quickly replaced with fabulous unplanned alternatives, I rejoiced.
And because I ended up in a place that was strange and wonderful, I wanted to record the evening in some way. I started to photograph things around me, partly so I could share the things I was seeing, hearing and doing, with others.
So Seven Days of Awesomeness morphed from being a celebration of a spell of sustained partying, to a process of noticing and appreciating the things going on around me. Some of them are the sort of things that you see every day, and most of the time, barely register. There were also the sort of things you don't expect to see, but are there nonetheless, if only we look for them, or are lucky enough to encounter them.
I also realised that if I collect images, analyse them, consider ways to capture them and present them, I am actually engaged in an art project. Quite accidentally. Or maybe I'm engaged in huge wank? You be the judge. It's only Day Two. Maybe it will become something else entirely by Day Seven. Or maybe I'll become bored with it. Or maybe disaster will strike, and it will become Seven Days of Shite. But let's not go down that road.
As twee as this sounds, I reckon that by firmly deciding to enjoy a week of awesomeness, I feel like I have opened my eyes to awesomeness that is around me all of the time. I just needed to choose to see it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Seduction by the stars
Just to prove horoscopes are crap, here’s mine from a few days ago:
You are a very sensual woman, and you have a very strong emotional force. Today, Leanne, that energy will increase and will express itself vigorously. The people you encounter will probably be astonished by your power, and you could easily seduce the entire world. Try to keep all this energy under your control. You could easily be thrown off balance, right into a situation you might later regret.
Amazingly, on the day in question I did manage to keep all of that ferocious sexual energy under control, and didn’t find myself in a situation I might later regret. Phew!
But seriously, what a crock.
At some time in the past, and probably under the influence of alcohol, I signed up for horoscopes sent direct to my email inbox.
As a result, on every occasion that I choose to read these emails before deleting them, I am assailed with absurd propositions such as “you could easily seduce the entire world”. Talk about skewing your perspective. Never mind that on the day I received this I was sleep deprived, stressed and feeling about as seductive as a bucket of sick. Apparently I could conquer the world with a toss of my locks and a come-hither look.
Sadly, it did not come to pass, and all of that vigorous energy was devoted to productive pursuits, like child-raising, earning a living, and go-go dancing.
What troubles me is the false hopes these charlatans create, and I worry that the lonely and despairing may be willing to hold on to these pronouncements as though they are rock solid guarantees.
I know I’ve had moments of darkness when I would gladly grab on to the promise of fulfilment and happiness, with scant regard for the legitimacy of the source, and I doubt I am alone on this score.
Some might argue this kind of speculative fiction is harmless, and can actually make people feel good about themselves. I think it has the potential to damage fragile individuals when the repeated pronouncements of positive contact with other people don’t eventuate. Ever.
Now I’d best go brush my hair and apply lippy. Apparently I’ll be meeting “The One” today. Again. I’m also expecting a payrise and increased travel opportunities: I better be ready.
You are a very sensual woman, and you have a very strong emotional force. Today, Leanne, that energy will increase and will express itself vigorously. The people you encounter will probably be astonished by your power, and you could easily seduce the entire world. Try to keep all this energy under your control. You could easily be thrown off balance, right into a situation you might later regret.
Amazingly, on the day in question I did manage to keep all of that ferocious sexual energy under control, and didn’t find myself in a situation I might later regret. Phew!
But seriously, what a crock.
At some time in the past, and probably under the influence of alcohol, I signed up for horoscopes sent direct to my email inbox.
As a result, on every occasion that I choose to read these emails before deleting them, I am assailed with absurd propositions such as “you could easily seduce the entire world”. Talk about skewing your perspective. Never mind that on the day I received this I was sleep deprived, stressed and feeling about as seductive as a bucket of sick. Apparently I could conquer the world with a toss of my locks and a come-hither look.
Sadly, it did not come to pass, and all of that vigorous energy was devoted to productive pursuits, like child-raising, earning a living, and go-go dancing.
What troubles me is the false hopes these charlatans create, and I worry that the lonely and despairing may be willing to hold on to these pronouncements as though they are rock solid guarantees.
I know I’ve had moments of darkness when I would gladly grab on to the promise of fulfilment and happiness, with scant regard for the legitimacy of the source, and I doubt I am alone on this score.
Some might argue this kind of speculative fiction is harmless, and can actually make people feel good about themselves. I think it has the potential to damage fragile individuals when the repeated pronouncements of positive contact with other people don’t eventuate. Ever.
Now I’d best go brush my hair and apply lippy. Apparently I’ll be meeting “The One” today. Again. I’m also expecting a payrise and increased travel opportunities: I better be ready.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Rainy day music
One drizzling Melbourne morning, the delightful Anna, mistress of a go-go academy, asked Facebook friends to nominate their favourite rain songs. A list of tracks like It's Raining Men and Raining in Baltimore, soon peppered Anna's wall. It's easy to associate songs with weather, from the title alone.
But what about albums?
When yesterday's rain had softened enough to hear music above the sound of it hitting the tin roof, I had an urge to listen to Iron and Wine's Around the Well.
Sam Beam and band's double cd collection of rarities and rejects is the perfect soundtrack to a rainy afternoon. It's even better when the weather is cold. Listening to it makes you think about snuggling and campfires. Around the Well is chilled, unobtrusive, very laid back, and fun to sing along to; softly.
There are a few covers in the mix, the best are Peng 33 (Stereolab), Waiting for Superman (Flaming Lips), Love Vigilantes (New Order) and Such Great Heights (The Postal Service). But truthfully, there's not a bad track on this album.
The last track, Trapeze Swinger, held me obsessed for weeks last winter. Over 9 minutes it manages to weave a lot of instruments and sounds in and out, so the ears are listening out for the next thing and not being distracted by the monotonous undertones. It's a triumph, that is beautifully executed.
So, over to you. What are your favourite rainy day albums?
Here comes the rain again Melbourne. Take cover!
But what about albums?
When yesterday's rain had softened enough to hear music above the sound of it hitting the tin roof, I had an urge to listen to Iron and Wine's Around the Well.
Sam Beam and band's double cd collection of rarities and rejects is the perfect soundtrack to a rainy afternoon. It's even better when the weather is cold. Listening to it makes you think about snuggling and campfires. Around the Well is chilled, unobtrusive, very laid back, and fun to sing along to; softly.
There are a few covers in the mix, the best are Peng 33 (Stereolab), Waiting for Superman (Flaming Lips), Love Vigilantes (New Order) and Such Great Heights (The Postal Service). But truthfully, there's not a bad track on this album.
The last track, Trapeze Swinger, held me obsessed for weeks last winter. Over 9 minutes it manages to weave a lot of instruments and sounds in and out, so the ears are listening out for the next thing and not being distracted by the monotonous undertones. It's a triumph, that is beautifully executed.
So, over to you. What are your favourite rainy day albums?
Here comes the rain again Melbourne. Take cover!
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Friday, March 5, 2010
Celebrate Labour Day by doing absolutely nothing
Today we wake up anticipating the delights the next few days will offer. It's Friday. We're anticipating a couple of days of rest and recreation as we head into the weekend.
Even more delicious is the prospect of a three day weekend. In Victoria, there's a public holiday on Monday that we call Labour Day. But if you asked most people they'd probably tell you they either didn't know what it is called, or what it is for, and some might say it's a holiday for Melbourne's street festival Moomba.
The origins of the holiday belong to the stonemasons working on major Melbourne construction sites in 1856. Sites like the University of Melbourne and Parliament House.
With leaders fresh from industrial battles in England, and encouraged by successful eight hour day campaigns on building sites in New South Wales and New Zealand, the Melbourne stonemasons fought for and won an enduring eight hour day. It endured in two ways that the earlier successes didn't. The eight hour day won by these men was cemented by legislation passed in the Victorian Parliament, and the entitlement flowed on to men and women working in industries other than construction.
One of the chief complaints of the 1856 stonemasons was that lugging and cutting large stones in the Australian sun for ten to twelve hours a day was hot work. The health and safety concerns were genuine, and should have been enough to warrant the granting of the eight hour day. But it was also about more than that. These men took the fight up because they believed workers should enjoy a balance of work, rest and recreation in equal measure. Eight hours work. Eight hours rest. Eight hours play. It was also about workers exercising a degree of control over the hours they worked.
To mark the achievement of the stonemasons for all workers, the Victorian Government declared an Eight Hours Day public holiday. It was originally celebrated in April each year, and the streets of Melbourne would fill with workers and their families, who would cheer on a parade of unionists marching with hand painted banners or riding vehicles or floats decorated with exquisite detail, portraying the work of a particular industy or group of workers.
In the mid-nineteenth century, the celebration changed.
The date of the annual march was moved from April to the second Monday in March, and workers who had previously marched under union banners or with union floats, began participating in displays by the fast growing companies of the times. Arnotts. Redhead Matches and Myer. When sponsorship of the parade became available, the annual parade was for a long time known as the Myer Moomba Parade.
Just as the Eight Hour Day holiday changed over time, so have our working lives.
Who among us can say that we work for only eight hours each day. Can you think of anyone who manages eight hours of play or pure recreation each day?
And even when we're not physically at work, a whole bunch of us are thinking about work. Whether we are small business operators, company directors, or employees.
The line between our lives outside of work, and our working lives has never been more blurry. For a lot of people, technology has blurred the line completely.
And what of our working hours? Is an Eight Hour Day a reality? And is 9 to 5 everyone's reality? Not if you're a shift worker. Not if you're on call. Not if you're part time or casual. Not if you run your own business. Not if you play in a band. Or perform theatre. Or work in hospitality. Or retail. Or health care. And you're definitely not a 9 to 5 worker if you're a parent or a carer.
Our world of work has changed so much. But should that mean the ideals of the Victorian stonemasons 154 years ago are dead? I don't think so. I know we can't turn back the clock, and that a purely prescriptive approach to one part of our lives doesn't work for everyone. But I do think we all need to get some kind of equitable division of work, rest and play for our continued wellbeing and enjoyment of life.
So on this second Monday of March, our Labour Day, I'm going to celebrate by doing absolutely nothing. I'm not going to do any work of any description (especially unpaid housework), and I'm not going to think about work. Anything that feels even vaguely like a chore is just not going to get done. In fact, there's a remote possibility that I won't even get out of bed on that day. On this long weekend, I'll be taking my share of rest in one big chunk!
Happy Labour Day.
More info: www.8hourday.org.au
Even more delicious is the prospect of a three day weekend. In Victoria, there's a public holiday on Monday that we call Labour Day. But if you asked most people they'd probably tell you they either didn't know what it is called, or what it is for, and some might say it's a holiday for Melbourne's street festival Moomba.
The origins of the holiday belong to the stonemasons working on major Melbourne construction sites in 1856. Sites like the University of Melbourne and Parliament House.
With leaders fresh from industrial battles in England, and encouraged by successful eight hour day campaigns on building sites in New South Wales and New Zealand, the Melbourne stonemasons fought for and won an enduring eight hour day. It endured in two ways that the earlier successes didn't. The eight hour day won by these men was cemented by legislation passed in the Victorian Parliament, and the entitlement flowed on to men and women working in industries other than construction.
One of the chief complaints of the 1856 stonemasons was that lugging and cutting large stones in the Australian sun for ten to twelve hours a day was hot work. The health and safety concerns were genuine, and should have been enough to warrant the granting of the eight hour day. But it was also about more than that. These men took the fight up because they believed workers should enjoy a balance of work, rest and recreation in equal measure. Eight hours work. Eight hours rest. Eight hours play. It was also about workers exercising a degree of control over the hours they worked.
To mark the achievement of the stonemasons for all workers, the Victorian Government declared an Eight Hours Day public holiday. It was originally celebrated in April each year, and the streets of Melbourne would fill with workers and their families, who would cheer on a parade of unionists marching with hand painted banners or riding vehicles or floats decorated with exquisite detail, portraying the work of a particular industy or group of workers.
In the mid-nineteenth century, the celebration changed.
The date of the annual march was moved from April to the second Monday in March, and workers who had previously marched under union banners or with union floats, began participating in displays by the fast growing companies of the times. Arnotts. Redhead Matches and Myer. When sponsorship of the parade became available, the annual parade was for a long time known as the Myer Moomba Parade.
Just as the Eight Hour Day holiday changed over time, so have our working lives.
Who among us can say that we work for only eight hours each day. Can you think of anyone who manages eight hours of play or pure recreation each day?
And even when we're not physically at work, a whole bunch of us are thinking about work. Whether we are small business operators, company directors, or employees.
The line between our lives outside of work, and our working lives has never been more blurry. For a lot of people, technology has blurred the line completely.
And what of our working hours? Is an Eight Hour Day a reality? And is 9 to 5 everyone's reality? Not if you're a shift worker. Not if you're on call. Not if you're part time or casual. Not if you run your own business. Not if you play in a band. Or perform theatre. Or work in hospitality. Or retail. Or health care. And you're definitely not a 9 to 5 worker if you're a parent or a carer.
Our world of work has changed so much. But should that mean the ideals of the Victorian stonemasons 154 years ago are dead? I don't think so. I know we can't turn back the clock, and that a purely prescriptive approach to one part of our lives doesn't work for everyone. But I do think we all need to get some kind of equitable division of work, rest and play for our continued wellbeing and enjoyment of life.
So on this second Monday of March, our Labour Day, I'm going to celebrate by doing absolutely nothing. I'm not going to do any work of any description (especially unpaid housework), and I'm not going to think about work. Anything that feels even vaguely like a chore is just not going to get done. In fact, there's a remote possibility that I won't even get out of bed on that day. On this long weekend, I'll be taking my share of rest in one big chunk!
Happy Labour Day.
More info: www.8hourday.org.au
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