Friday, June 13, 2008
Migratory Books and Art in a Carton
I'm delighted to be taking part in a couple of exciting creative projects.
For one, I will receive a Migratory Book to study, following which I'll answer a question about the connections between us (and perhaps create some related artwork), before sending it on to someone else. It's rather like BookCrossing, except with artists' books.
The other project, Art in a Carton, is a pay-it-forward concept which, perhaps because it originates with Susan, who lives in Germany, reminds me of a German Friendship Cake.
These cakes generally work when you receive a cup of starter mixture (which I think includes live yeast) and a copy of the recipe. You make up a big bowl of cake mix but before putting it in the oven, scoop out a couple more cupfuls of raw batter to share with other people. I clearly remember us doing this a couple of times when I was younger, but as I type this now I'm wondering whether, in our health and safety conscious modern world, people are quite so trusting of bacterial cultures.
Back to Art in a Carton - I'll receive a reused, decorated fruit juice carton filled with art materials and interesting bits and bobs. I will then make up other cartons to post to other people. This is a great opportunity to share some of the ATCs, postcards, beads and buttons and cardstock scraps I've been holding on to for too long!
When I met up with friends for a lindy-hop class this week, I got to chatting with another mate who, seeking more creativity in her life, has begun volunteering at a local museum and art gallery. In one of those serendipitous moments where your minds turn out to be in perfect harmony, we've decided to establish our own art group. It will take place along the lines of a book group, meeting once a month in a different person's house each time. Hopefully, everyone coming together with paints and paper will get us producing more artwork - even if it's just making sets of greetings cards and attempting to capture some still lifes, it should give us a reason to get together and catch up with wine and cupcakes.
For one, I will receive a Migratory Book to study, following which I'll answer a question about the connections between us (and perhaps create some related artwork), before sending it on to someone else. It's rather like BookCrossing, except with artists' books.
The other project, Art in a Carton, is a pay-it-forward concept which, perhaps because it originates with Susan, who lives in Germany, reminds me of a German Friendship Cake.
These cakes generally work when you receive a cup of starter mixture (which I think includes live yeast) and a copy of the recipe. You make up a big bowl of cake mix but before putting it in the oven, scoop out a couple more cupfuls of raw batter to share with other people. I clearly remember us doing this a couple of times when I was younger, but as I type this now I'm wondering whether, in our health and safety conscious modern world, people are quite so trusting of bacterial cultures.
Back to Art in a Carton - I'll receive a reused, decorated fruit juice carton filled with art materials and interesting bits and bobs. I will then make up other cartons to post to other people. This is a great opportunity to share some of the ATCs, postcards, beads and buttons and cardstock scraps I've been holding on to for too long!
When I met up with friends for a lindy-hop class this week, I got to chatting with another mate who, seeking more creativity in her life, has begun volunteering at a local museum and art gallery. In one of those serendipitous moments where your minds turn out to be in perfect harmony, we've decided to establish our own art group. It will take place along the lines of a book group, meeting once a month in a different person's house each time. Hopefully, everyone coming together with paints and paper will get us producing more artwork - even if it's just making sets of greetings cards and attempting to capture some still lifes, it should give us a reason to get together and catch up with wine and cupcakes.
Labels: art, Art in a Carton, creativity, dancing, friends, Migratory Books
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Being Human 101
A quote that moves me because it seems to sum up everything I've been through so far:
"Being Human 101: Make Mistake, Apologize, Fix Mistake, Learn From Mistake, Live a Bit, (repeat)."
From Megan Wallent, whose site describes her male-to-female transition in a way that is elegant, throughtful, and calm.
I just seem to make more mistakes, more frequently, than most. Ho hum.
Light dawns even at the lowest points, though, as I put my intentions out into the world and gradually, from unexpected corners, people respond.
I've been corresponding with a sympathetic writer who emailed me after I left a comment on her blog. Another friend has sent me a link for a job she thinks I'd be perfect at. Finally, out of all the CVs I've been sending, I have one definite and one possible interview for next week. And I've volunteered to help out at a couple of things ... more details to come if I'm accepted ...
And Project Snapshot 2007, for which I interviewed 3 Australian writers here on this very blog, has won the Ditmar Award it was nominated for. I am, officially, award-winning - a fact I have already added to my CV, and a certificate is on the way. I may have to take a photo of it. I have never been award-winning before, except when I was part of a winning pub quiz team and marched proudly home, bearing in triumph a tin of amaretti biscuits that no-one else fancied.
Congratulations to everyone else involved, and particularly to my fellow artiste, and to Alisa, the guiding genius behind Asif! Twelfth Planet Press, and so much else. Meeting such interesting people is inspirational. I don't know quite where the energy for all their projects (reading every Australian specfic short story published during the entire year, anyone?) comes from. There are some people, though, whose influence spreads wider than they realise, and who put good things into the world that didn't exist before they thought of them - and I'm grateful to know them.
Reading Patry Francis' words also puts me into a frame of mind that is at once thoughtful and grateful for the things I take for granted.
I think my advice for anyone going through a period of self-doubt would be to find somebody to say yes to you. About anything. When you feel helpless and as if your skills are not valued ... make an offer, whether it's lending a book or making a cake, and see how much more energised you feel when someone accepts it. No-one is going to call you up and request that you do them the honour of writing for them. You have to keep making those moves, and maybe one in ten or twenty or seventy-eight will say yes.
Experimental baking is making me happy ... as is granting wishes.
Labels: a good day, ASif, cooking, friends, grand plans, Inspiration, jobs, life lessons, Patry Francis, volunteering, writing
Monday, July 30, 2007
In which I am undaunted by sports.
It's been a weird weekend. On Friday, a challenging day in my new department (Accounts Payable, otherwise known as "the one where we send out money to pay for things we buy from other companies") we commenced with choc chip muffins ... just because. Then a former employee brought her new baby in to be cooed over while we crowded into the lunch room and shared a Nando's takeaway. At one point the pram caused a log-jam in between cubicles, causing one guy to ask, bewildered, "There's a queue to hold this kid?"
Then - and this is how I know I've Arrived - I was invited to end-of-the-month free drinks, or "Beers in the Boardroom", where I encountered the CEO. I'd never seen him before in my life and was on the verge of asking him what he did, when I realised how much louder he was than everyone else, and quickly bit my tongue. Only the mighty get to shout with joy and be applauded! A group of blokes were trying to think of the word "scanning," but couldn't, so - and I love when this happens - they expressed it with sign language which turned into an interpretive dance. Three were doing smooth arm-waving movements, while the other two, trying to comprehend, mimicked the arm waving with added flourishes. They looked like a camp forest of seagrass. I could just see them back in their clubbing days, "stacking boxes" to house music. Incidentally, the whole dance genre of music has a derogatory yet onomatopoeic Aussie name, "doof doof".
I also spoke to cute-guy-who-looks-like-Charlie-from-Numb3rs, whose name I forget.
Every lunchtime he and another IT guy run 7ks in preparation for the 12k charity walk we're all doing at the end of August. Well, they'll be running it, but I'll be walking: my only sport is belly dancing. He recalled a toe-curling occasion when he'd been in a restaurant with his parents and a belly dancer had made some suggestive moves on his father. I was momentarily silenced.
On Saturday I re-read Harry Potter 7 - I so want to write a review going into spoilers! and on Saturday night met up with my wonderful bubbly marine biologist friend Marjolein to go to FloorPlay, a dance extravaganza widely advertised on TV with the tagline "Burn The Floor!" The dancing was spectacular, and the costumes were just amazing (I want a dress entirely covered in sequins!) although I didn't think the series of black elastic straps actually did much for the woman who wore them instead of a dress.
Unfortunately, we were sitting in the balcony. We could see the stage just fine, but at the beginning an usher asked us not to stand up when we couldn't see the dancers, as this would interfere with the lighting. Well, this show has been at that theatre for at least a month, and frankly to have everyone disappear into the aisles - while a lot of fun for the audience in the stalls - is just poor staging! If you can't send a couple up to the balcony, at least leave someone on stage for us to look at! Otherwise, regardless of verbal warnings, people are going to stand up and crane over in an attempt to keep up.
Who goes to a show like this? Well, women are in the majority, although the chaps dragged along didn't seem too henpecked. We were in awe of the cougars, though - reeling ladies in their fifties, slamming back cocktails then backing young men into corners and attempting to rumba with them. Some of their outfits, like the head to toe red leather ensemble or the fishnet tights fluffy with ostrich feathers, were fantastically striking, as if the spirit of Isabella Blow had glided across Subiaco. As we left the theatre they prowled off in search of innocents leaving the bars. I hope that whe I'm in my 50s and 60s I'll still have that reckless sense of adventure!
On Sunday it was too rainy to watch Brendan's footy game, so I went for a wander to check out other Northbridge hostels. I got photos of those trees that have struck me for weeks now as being amazingly sculptural, and strolled like a true flaneur through Highgate and Mount Lawley. I saw coffee shops, bookshops, bakeries, and a shop selling "everything you want - nothing you need," exemplified by the colossal birdbath, over a metre across, on its front lawn. I also witnessed a drunken argument with incoherent shouting followed by a man striking a woman down. It was sickening. The police were already crossing the street so I guess the dispute must have been going on for some time, but I didn't expect to step out of the dreamy suspended-time atmosphere of a second-hand bookshop and suddenly be back in that world of violence and drunken rage again.
Perth is generally one of the safest cities - certainly nothing compared to Alice Springs - but like any city there are a few drunken characters I'd rather cross the road to avoid a discussion with than walk past.
I have two links for you. Here is a great account by literary critic Michael Berube of how his son, who has Down's syndrome, learned to follow a story's narrative through reading the Harry Potter books. And this is a parody round-up of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" - containing ALL THE SPOILERS - but if you want to laugh till you spray tea across your computer screen, and you've already finished the book, you may check it out. You may wish to keep a tea towel handy.
Then - and this is how I know I've Arrived - I was invited to end-of-the-month free drinks, or "Beers in the Boardroom", where I encountered the CEO. I'd never seen him before in my life and was on the verge of asking him what he did, when I realised how much louder he was than everyone else, and quickly bit my tongue. Only the mighty get to shout with joy and be applauded! A group of blokes were trying to think of the word "scanning," but couldn't, so - and I love when this happens - they expressed it with sign language which turned into an interpretive dance. Three were doing smooth arm-waving movements, while the other two, trying to comprehend, mimicked the arm waving with added flourishes. They looked like a camp forest of seagrass. I could just see them back in their clubbing days, "stacking boxes" to house music. Incidentally, the whole dance genre of music has a derogatory yet onomatopoeic Aussie name, "doof doof".
I also spoke to cute-guy-who-looks-like-Charlie-from-Numb3rs, whose name I forget.
Every lunchtime he and another IT guy run 7ks in preparation for the 12k charity walk we're all doing at the end of August. Well, they'll be running it, but I'll be walking: my only sport is belly dancing. He recalled a toe-curling occasion when he'd been in a restaurant with his parents and a belly dancer had made some suggestive moves on his father. I was momentarily silenced.
On Saturday I re-read Harry Potter 7 - I so want to write a review going into spoilers! and on Saturday night met up with my wonderful bubbly marine biologist friend Marjolein to go to FloorPlay, a dance extravaganza widely advertised on TV with the tagline "Burn The Floor!" The dancing was spectacular, and the costumes were just amazing (I want a dress entirely covered in sequins!) although I didn't think the series of black elastic straps actually did much for the woman who wore them instead of a dress.
Unfortunately, we were sitting in the balcony. We could see the stage just fine, but at the beginning an usher asked us not to stand up when we couldn't see the dancers, as this would interfere with the lighting. Well, this show has been at that theatre for at least a month, and frankly to have everyone disappear into the aisles - while a lot of fun for the audience in the stalls - is just poor staging! If you can't send a couple up to the balcony, at least leave someone on stage for us to look at! Otherwise, regardless of verbal warnings, people are going to stand up and crane over in an attempt to keep up.
Who goes to a show like this? Well, women are in the majority, although the chaps dragged along didn't seem too henpecked. We were in awe of the cougars, though - reeling ladies in their fifties, slamming back cocktails then backing young men into corners and attempting to rumba with them. Some of their outfits, like the head to toe red leather ensemble or the fishnet tights fluffy with ostrich feathers, were fantastically striking, as if the spirit of Isabella Blow had glided across Subiaco. As we left the theatre they prowled off in search of innocents leaving the bars. I hope that whe I'm in my 50s and 60s I'll still have that reckless sense of adventure!
On Sunday it was too rainy to watch Brendan's footy game, so I went for a wander to check out other Northbridge hostels. I got photos of those trees that have struck me for weeks now as being amazingly sculptural, and strolled like a true flaneur through Highgate and Mount Lawley. I saw coffee shops, bookshops, bakeries, and a shop selling "everything you want - nothing you need," exemplified by the colossal birdbath, over a metre across, on its front lawn. I also witnessed a drunken argument with incoherent shouting followed by a man striking a woman down. It was sickening. The police were already crossing the street so I guess the dispute must have been going on for some time, but I didn't expect to step out of the dreamy suspended-time atmosphere of a second-hand bookshop and suddenly be back in that world of violence and drunken rage again.
Perth is generally one of the safest cities - certainly nothing compared to Alice Springs - but like any city there are a few drunken characters I'd rather cross the road to avoid a discussion with than walk past.
I have two links for you. Here is a great account by literary critic Michael Berube of how his son, who has Down's syndrome, learned to follow a story's narrative through reading the Harry Potter books. And this is a parody round-up of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" - containing ALL THE SPOILERS - but if you want to laugh till you spray tea across your computer screen, and you've already finished the book, you may check it out. You may wish to keep a tea towel handy.
Labels: Australia and Aussie customs, conflict resolution, dancing, friends, grand plans, Harry Potter, hostels, the flaneur explores a new place
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
A sunny Anzac Day
I've been strolling through Cairns, appreciating a public holiday with nothing particular planned. Apparently there was a dawn service, but I didn't see it advertaised anywhere. I took a lot of photos of the empty town, which I'll post soon.
There was a crowd of about 40 vacant-faced people outside the mall waiting for the cinema to open at 1pm - a forlorn situation. At the Lagoon, my new favourite hangout where it's possible to lose an entire day, I encountered an astonishingly pale couple from South Wales who'd just emigrated to Cairns a week ago. Their little daughter, who was about 5 years old, leapt into the water and began stomping on the bubbling fountains with expressions of delight, before crawling around pretending to be a crocodile. Her mum half-tried to restrain her "Lyddie! How are we going to get you dry? We didn't bring a change of clothes!" but seemed remarkably relaxed about the situation. We chatted about their decision to make a new life here, and it occurred to me that within a few years, little Lyddie who found the lagoon such a novelty would be a proper swimming and surfing Aussie water-baby - maybe even a surf lifesaver herself. I lent them my travel towel and wished them well, with a sudden rush of emotion at all the possibilities open before them. I feel a huge sense of excitement and opportunity when I arrive in a new place and see it with fresh eyes, and I think I picked up some of that from this couple and their joyful daughter.
Although I'm exploring more exotic locations, when I read articles like this I'm reminded how much of Europe I'd still like to explore. Here, Yann Martel, the author of Life of Pi, explains his decision to send the Canadian Prime Minister a book every fortnight. What a great idea! I always got the impression that arts funding was pretty important to Canadian life - to know that in a small way Martel is keeping the campaign going is pretty inspiring.
There was a crowd of about 40 vacant-faced people outside the mall waiting for the cinema to open at 1pm - a forlorn situation. At the Lagoon, my new favourite hangout where it's possible to lose an entire day, I encountered an astonishingly pale couple from South Wales who'd just emigrated to Cairns a week ago. Their little daughter, who was about 5 years old, leapt into the water and began stomping on the bubbling fountains with expressions of delight, before crawling around pretending to be a crocodile. Her mum half-tried to restrain her "Lyddie! How are we going to get you dry? We didn't bring a change of clothes!" but seemed remarkably relaxed about the situation. We chatted about their decision to make a new life here, and it occurred to me that within a few years, little Lyddie who found the lagoon such a novelty would be a proper swimming and surfing Aussie water-baby - maybe even a surf lifesaver herself. I lent them my travel towel and wished them well, with a sudden rush of emotion at all the possibilities open before them. I feel a huge sense of excitement and opportunity when I arrive in a new place and see it with fresh eyes, and I think I picked up some of that from this couple and their joyful daughter.
Although I'm exploring more exotic locations, when I read articles like this I'm reminded how much of Europe I'd still like to explore. Here, Yann Martel, the author of Life of Pi, explains his decision to send the Canadian Prime Minister a book every fortnight. What a great idea! I always got the impression that arts funding was pretty important to Canadian life - to know that in a small way Martel is keeping the campaign going is pretty inspiring.
Labels: a good day, Cairns, equipment I'd recommend, friends, reading, travel
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
An interesting interview
Today I spotted a cyclist with tinsel woven through her bike baskets, a cheerfully eccentric sight. There were a group of kids in their early teens outside the State Library this evening, hanging out and stepping from side to side and throwing hand gestures. When I walked past them, I realised that they were, fairly quietly, and intermittently breaking down into laughter, having some kind of rap battle! It was awesome - after being indoors reading and writing, to have such an organic spoken word performance just happening right there filled me with hope. Adelaide seems an intellectual and creative place - there really is a lot of interest in the arts here. I would have stopped to listen, but the kids were clearly doing it for their own entertainment rather than as a public performance. Sure, it happened in the 'everyday life' of 8 Mile ... but it surprised me to see it in South Australia!
I interviewed a south Australian guitarist-singer-songwriter, Laura Hill, this morning. She was different to the usual groups that I talk to for various reasons. Firstly, talking to just one person instead of a group, it's much more of a fair conversation. No-one's worried about saying something their bandmates will tease them for later. We could talk about much more personal issues - her mother's serious illness and how it motivated her to seize the day, overcoming stage fright and gaining the confidence to perform her own work, and what really troubles her about the music industry.
Then there were some things that struck me - and this is just my interpretation here - as being particularly applicable to women talking together, something I first studied as part of the Women's Folklore and Feminist Theory unit I took at uni. Firstly, when talking about following her dreams, there was a real acknowledgement of the doubts and difficulties she'd had to work through, and the impact of her decisions on her family and friends - none of that arrogant solo over-confidence I've occasionally observed with guys on the same kind of path.
She was also really interested in me, where I'd travelled, and what my dreams were - a slightly disconcerting experience for an interviewer to be put on the spot and asked about their musical background as well! (For a much more intense example of this, when the Australian Michael Parkinson, Andrew Denton, invited Richard E. Grant onto his chat show to plug Wah-Wah, Withnail completely turned the tables on him, having done a frightening amount of research into Denton's upbringing, star sign, and even how he reconciled with his estranged wife. I was watching it with friends in Melbourne thinking, "Wow! This is live TV and it's completely unpredictable!" Then a woman in the audience had a coughing fit and the onstage challenges momentarily ceased as they both strode out to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water.)
And finally, she was really keen to credit everybody who'd helped and supported her on her journey, from her parents to her partner to the members of the girls' surf club she founded. She made sure to mention every musician who'd assisted with her album, and stressed how much of a collaboration it was, even down to the fact that the cover photos were done as a mutual exchange with a photography student who needed to build up a professional portfolio. This just seemed really, well ... refreshing. I told her so, and at first she wasn't sure whether or not I meant it as a compliment. But it really was a tribute to her attitude. I hope she makes a go of it: the article will be out this week and her album launch is on the 3rd of March.
I interviewed a south Australian guitarist-singer-songwriter, Laura Hill, this morning. She was different to the usual groups that I talk to for various reasons. Firstly, talking to just one person instead of a group, it's much more of a fair conversation. No-one's worried about saying something their bandmates will tease them for later. We could talk about much more personal issues - her mother's serious illness and how it motivated her to seize the day, overcoming stage fright and gaining the confidence to perform her own work, and what really troubles her about the music industry.
Then there were some things that struck me - and this is just my interpretation here - as being particularly applicable to women talking together, something I first studied as part of the Women's Folklore and Feminist Theory unit I took at uni. Firstly, when talking about following her dreams, there was a real acknowledgement of the doubts and difficulties she'd had to work through, and the impact of her decisions on her family and friends - none of that arrogant solo over-confidence I've occasionally observed with guys on the same kind of path.
She was also really interested in me, where I'd travelled, and what my dreams were - a slightly disconcerting experience for an interviewer to be put on the spot and asked about their musical background as well! (For a much more intense example of this, when the Australian Michael Parkinson, Andrew Denton, invited Richard E. Grant onto his chat show to plug Wah-Wah, Withnail completely turned the tables on him, having done a frightening amount of research into Denton's upbringing, star sign, and even how he reconciled with his estranged wife. I was watching it with friends in Melbourne thinking, "Wow! This is live TV and it's completely unpredictable!" Then a woman in the audience had a coughing fit and the onstage challenges momentarily ceased as they both strode out to pat her on the back and give her a glass of water.)
And finally, she was really keen to credit everybody who'd helped and supported her on her journey, from her parents to her partner to the members of the girls' surf club she founded. She made sure to mention every musician who'd assisted with her album, and stressed how much of a collaboration it was, even down to the fact that the cover photos were done as a mutual exchange with a photography student who needed to build up a professional portfolio. This just seemed really, well ... refreshing. I told her so, and at first she wasn't sure whether or not I meant it as a compliment. But it really was a tribute to her attitude. I hope she makes a go of it: the article will be out this week and her album launch is on the 3rd of March.
Labels: feminism, friends, Inspiration, Laura Hill, poetry and spoken word performance, television
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Dammit, where'd my hard-won equilibrium get to?
Hey, ex-boyfriends! Want to really annoy your ex-girlfriends?
How about
a) turning up in their new city with only 8 hours advance notice
b) expecting that they'll drop everything to entertain you, which they do because in theory you both want to be friends, and they want to prove that your initial impression of Adelaide wasn't fair
c) keeping them hanging on waiting for you to phone as if the last 8 months haven't taught them anything
d) inviting yourself over for Sunday morning brunch, even going so far as to request that you be served chai tea
e) politely asking when you should arrive by - your ex-girlfriend will say 11am at the latest - but she doesn't really mean it! No, it's fine to shamble along after 1pm. Just fine.
Yes, it was pretty awkward. I don't know where all the affection and good wishes went, or all the love that we had for three years ... even being able to hold a conversation without judging and irritating each other. Perhaps I was building it up too much, thinking that I'd finally get some closure - but I guess I just ended up thinking, wow - we really have so little in common. How come we didn't argue more? How could this guy's opinion have been so important to me for so long? And how come it took until 10 minutes before he left to actually express any of this irritation, rather than bottling it up?
I guess sometimes you can get on fine over the phone and email, but in person ... all the stress returns. Like I constantly say, and most of the time believe, I want us both to be happy, and clearly we can't make each other happy.
Pffff. Oh, I have new reviews published:
an interview with the creative genius behind Quiet Child
reviews of a cool jazz trio whose music I found challenging to describe - let's face it, I'm no Whitney Balliett; Kiwi dub/roots stars the Black Seeds; and Sugababes' Greatest Hits
and a review of something rich and strange, Highway Rock'N'Roll Disaster.
Plus, I do have good news: Nia, a friend from uni, has taken the big decision to come travelling, and may be doing a working holiday to either Australia or New Zealand! It was just lovely to hear her voice again. Sometimes it's your old mates who know you best and make you laugh the most ...
or perhaps a random hilarious mate from purgatorial times fruit picking in Queensland, who phones up after a year, bringing up times that were pretty funny in retrospect (Maverick had set out into town on payday with the idea of going food shopping and bringing us a loaf of bread. Several hours later, with no sign of him, we set off in the car and were greeting by a drunken lurching yelling Maverick, brandishing shopping bags, who tumbled under the stationary car and couldn't extricate himself. "Rosie! Beautiful Rosie! I have your bread!" he cried, handing out with exaggerated care a squashed and mud-splattered loaf. Several friends gathered round to haul at his limbs and finally removed him. He waved us off, clutching his head - a cheerful soul, and someone I'd definitely look up in Sydney!)
... or sometimes it's tea and sympathy with a housemate who gives the best advice. I started writing this feeling pretty grumpy, but actually I have a lot to be grateful for.
Fingers crossed for the wishing pig!
How about
a) turning up in their new city with only 8 hours advance notice
b) expecting that they'll drop everything to entertain you, which they do because in theory you both want to be friends, and they want to prove that your initial impression of Adelaide wasn't fair
c) keeping them hanging on waiting for you to phone as if the last 8 months haven't taught them anything
d) inviting yourself over for Sunday morning brunch, even going so far as to request that you be served chai tea
e) politely asking when you should arrive by - your ex-girlfriend will say 11am at the latest - but she doesn't really mean it! No, it's fine to shamble along after 1pm. Just fine.
Yes, it was pretty awkward. I don't know where all the affection and good wishes went, or all the love that we had for three years ... even being able to hold a conversation without judging and irritating each other. Perhaps I was building it up too much, thinking that I'd finally get some closure - but I guess I just ended up thinking, wow - we really have so little in common. How come we didn't argue more? How could this guy's opinion have been so important to me for so long? And how come it took until 10 minutes before he left to actually express any of this irritation, rather than bottling it up?
I guess sometimes you can get on fine over the phone and email, but in person ... all the stress returns. Like I constantly say, and most of the time believe, I want us both to be happy, and clearly we can't make each other happy.
Pffff. Oh, I have new reviews published:
an interview with the creative genius behind Quiet Child
reviews of a cool jazz trio whose music I found challenging to describe - let's face it, I'm no Whitney Balliett; Kiwi dub/roots stars the Black Seeds; and Sugababes' Greatest Hits
and a review of something rich and strange, Highway Rock'N'Roll Disaster.
Plus, I do have good news: Nia, a friend from uni, has taken the big decision to come travelling, and may be doing a working holiday to either Australia or New Zealand! It was just lovely to hear her voice again. Sometimes it's your old mates who know you best and make you laugh the most ...
or perhaps a random hilarious mate from purgatorial times fruit picking in Queensland, who phones up after a year, bringing up times that were pretty funny in retrospect (Maverick had set out into town on payday with the idea of going food shopping and bringing us a loaf of bread. Several hours later, with no sign of him, we set off in the car and were greeting by a drunken lurching yelling Maverick, brandishing shopping bags, who tumbled under the stationary car and couldn't extricate himself. "Rosie! Beautiful Rosie! I have your bread!" he cried, handing out with exaggerated care a squashed and mud-splattered loaf. Several friends gathered round to haul at his limbs and finally removed him. He waved us off, clutching his head - a cheerful soul, and someone I'd definitely look up in Sydney!)
... or sometimes it's tea and sympathy with a housemate who gives the best advice. I started writing this feeling pretty grumpy, but actually I have a lot to be grateful for.
Fingers crossed for the wishing pig!
Labels: Adelaide, Black Seeds, cool jazz, friends, Highway Rock'n'Roll Disaster, Quiet Child, relationships, Sugababes, travel
Monday, January 29, 2007
What I did on Australia Day
Australia Day is not really wildly celebrated in Australia. When I worked in London, I was aware that one day every year the Tube would be filled with cheerful green-and-yellow painted hoons (a word I've only learned since coming here) conducting the drunken singing of Waltzing Matilda by waving inflatable kangaroos. I thought that, apart from the shop in Covent Garden selling Vegemite and Tim Tams, that was it for Aussie ex-pats.
But there is a new tradition here in Australia! Triple J, the independent radio station, plays the Top 100 songs of the last year, as voted for by listeners. Of course there's a lot of debate about which ones will absolutely, definitely be in the Top 10, and which bands have to make it into the list somehow, and which ones you voted for... people even bet on it, and offices will run sweepstakes. It's not quite The Race That Stops The Nation (the Melbourne Cup, which does get people to pause for 5 minutes of their day.) This is more a long backdrop to the entire day - the 100 tracks take around 8 hours to play, as there's constant waffling from the presenters, relatively pointless interviews with the bands ("How does it feel to be Number 34 on the Triple J Top 100?" "We're Number 34! That's so awesome! Whooooo! Shout outs to my Mum and the Adelaide Hills massive!"), and phonecalls from people having parties and barbecues where they listen to the radio for 8 hours "It's madness here in Woolloomoolloo! We're eating snags! We want Scissor Sisters!"
I was invited to a slightly more sedate Australia Day barbeque, and it was actually really mellow and relaxing. We snacked on an irresistible dip made from a hollowed out cob of bread, filled with cream cheese, herbs and French onion soup mix among other mystic ingredients. People arrived. Beer was drunk. The images are of classic Australian icons: the flag on a Hills Hoist (we'd call it a rotary clothesline, but here it's a national icon as it was invented in South Australia); and an amazing Fisher Price toy barbeque set up next to the full sized one. They say kids learn by copying their parents' behaviour - well, here you can train your "bub" in the fine art of sausage sizzling just like his dad!
As people arrived, we began eating, and eating, and eating. I'd like to give a big shout out to Pete's family and the fantastic fruit, vegetables and eggs they grow and share with us: the tomato salad I made was much admired. One dessert was absolutely delicious but sent me into paroxysms of guilt. To make Sinful Ice Cream Cake, crush a packet of choc chip cookies and mix with melted butter to form a cheesecake base. Then take a pint of choc chip ice cream and stir into it ... half a jar of crunchy peanut butter. spread on top of the base and freeze. To serve, make a chocolate fudge sauce by melting dark chocolate with cream. This is amazing, but will glue you to the floor for the rest of the day. The other pic is of a much lighter dessert, and the perfect way to get people eating healthy fruit: skewers of strawberries and melon-balled canteloupes, watermelon and rock melon. They're just so pretty!
The rest of the day was spent reclining on the lawn, listening to music and debating our favourite bands. For facts to back up the argument, people went on the internet to check whether the Triple J website was updating in real time. And it was ... on Eastern time. Sydney is half an hour ahead of South Australia, so the top 5 were already up there, seared into Pete's retinas as he gave a howl. "I didn't want to know that! And you don't either!" he threatened, before dropping increasingly obvious hints about who we'd be hearing next.
The Australian flag was even more controversial at the Big Day Out music festival, where organisers tried to ban it on the grounds that it would incite racial tension. That has happened in the past, but a huge public outcry saw thousands of music lovers proudly flourishing their Southern Cross capes, hats, t-shirts and even tattoos to the TV cameras as they walked in. The flag is in question for various reasons - there are various sides to the debate here.
But there is a new tradition here in Australia! Triple J, the independent radio station, plays the Top 100 songs of the last year, as voted for by listeners. Of course there's a lot of debate about which ones will absolutely, definitely be in the Top 10, and which bands have to make it into the list somehow, and which ones you voted for... people even bet on it, and offices will run sweepstakes. It's not quite The Race That Stops The Nation (the Melbourne Cup, which does get people to pause for 5 minutes of their day.) This is more a long backdrop to the entire day - the 100 tracks take around 8 hours to play, as there's constant waffling from the presenters, relatively pointless interviews with the bands ("How does it feel to be Number 34 on the Triple J Top 100?" "We're Number 34! That's so awesome! Whooooo! Shout outs to my Mum and the Adelaide Hills massive!"), and phonecalls from people having parties and barbecues where they listen to the radio for 8 hours "It's madness here in Woolloomoolloo! We're eating snags! We want Scissor Sisters!"
I was invited to a slightly more sedate Australia Day barbeque, and it was actually really mellow and relaxing. We snacked on an irresistible dip made from a hollowed out cob of bread, filled with cream cheese, herbs and French onion soup mix among other mystic ingredients. People arrived. Beer was drunk. The images are of classic Australian icons: the flag on a Hills Hoist (we'd call it a rotary clothesline, but here it's a national icon as it was invented in South Australia); and an amazing Fisher Price toy barbeque set up next to the full sized one. They say kids learn by copying their parents' behaviour - well, here you can train your "bub" in the fine art of sausage sizzling just like his dad!
As people arrived, we began eating, and eating, and eating. I'd like to give a big shout out to Pete's family and the fantastic fruit, vegetables and eggs they grow and share with us: the tomato salad I made was much admired. One dessert was absolutely delicious but sent me into paroxysms of guilt. To make Sinful Ice Cream Cake, crush a packet of choc chip cookies and mix with melted butter to form a cheesecake base. Then take a pint of choc chip ice cream and stir into it ... half a jar of crunchy peanut butter. spread on top of the base and freeze. To serve, make a chocolate fudge sauce by melting dark chocolate with cream. This is amazing, but will glue you to the floor for the rest of the day. The other pic is of a much lighter dessert, and the perfect way to get people eating healthy fruit: skewers of strawberries and melon-balled canteloupes, watermelon and rock melon. They're just so pretty!
The rest of the day was spent reclining on the lawn, listening to music and debating our favourite bands. For facts to back up the argument, people went on the internet to check whether the Triple J website was updating in real time. And it was ... on Eastern time. Sydney is half an hour ahead of South Australia, so the top 5 were already up there, seared into Pete's retinas as he gave a howl. "I didn't want to know that! And you don't either!" he threatened, before dropping increasingly obvious hints about who we'd be hearing next.
The Australian flag was even more controversial at the Big Day Out music festival, where organisers tried to ban it on the grounds that it would incite racial tension. That has happened in the past, but a huge public outcry saw thousands of music lovers proudly flourishing their Southern Cross capes, hats, t-shirts and even tattoos to the TV cameras as they walked in. The flag is in question for various reasons - there are various sides to the debate here.
Labels: Adelaide, Australia and Aussie customs, food, friends, radio
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
On following a dream
A car park down an Adelaide side street. One Fringe Festival, an artist with a vision spent three weeks cementing toy cars onto this wall, in their thousands. I admire that singlemindedness of intent.
The Walking in this World course is proving interesting - writing three pages every morning means that I'm actually remembering my dreams, and pretty strange they are too. I've always thought that hearing other people's dreams is not particularly interesting, so I won't share the surreal sequences. In analysing them, though, I notice a lot of anxiety, insecurity, not really having any answers, and worrying about being misinterpreted.
I can see where this is coming from. I'm making a conscious effort with writing, and I really would love it if people who ask what I do (a horrible question, as if what you receive money for is What You Are and defines how much respect you should be given, and how much interest you're worthy of) gave me some encouragement, or said that my words touched them. Instead, all anyone seems to ask me about is money. Have I got a proper job yet? In all my time of drifting about the world, seeing sights and storing up memories and ideas; and working clock-watching jobs which I'd do to the best of my ability but come home feeling as if some part of my mind and soul had not received any exercise or challenges ... I've never felt anything like the gratification I get from picking up the latest issue of DB and re-reading my words from a published magazine, or getting an email from The Program to say that they liked my quirky article on going undercover at The Beards' gig. I finally feel that I'm progressing towards somewhere that I want to be, and I'm getting a lot of satisfaction from that - but when people reduce it to a purely financial level, I feel that my joy in creating and sharing just gets chipped away.
Before I started travelling, I used to have a lot of flying dreams, which I took comfort from. Once I left the UK, these dreams, which normally had me escaping from various places in St Albans, simply stopped - I'd addressed that problem. I'm not sure how I'll address this one. I have, however, taken inspiration from Elena, who started the Walking in This World group. After standing in the $2 shop for several minutes staring at the art materials, I took the initial step of buying a set of coloured chalk. For only $2, I have a small colourful box of potential in my bag. Do I dare actually go out and reclaim some pavement space? I have all kinds of positive messages floating in my mind, and I can imagine what colours I'd write them in. It's dark outside now, so I could do a mini guerilla art project as I walk back home through the park ...
If I actually do this, I'll post a picture.
Random facts that I think are interesting:
1. Trivia is the Roman goddess of hounds, sorcery and crossroads
2. In the English language, "ough" can be pronounced in 8 different ways, all contained in this sentence: A tough, dough-faced ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough, coughing and hiccoughing thoughtfully. Reading that reminds me of an acquaintance from uni, "Cactus James," who was from Scarborough. Among his many quirks he was notable for actually laying down money to purchase a single entitled "The Whistle Song," featuring the instruction "Blow your whistle, baby!" and frenetic whistling. After his housemates protested at his repeatedly playing this at top volume, his concession to their long-suffering eardrums was buying an entire album by enthusiastic German remixer DJ Otzi. I considered myself fortunate not to live there.
My latest published articles:
Dallas Crane interview
One I thought went really well: an interview with The Battery Kids
Review of the slightly daunting Menopause: The Musical
Attending a Moonlight Cinema screening - read it and weep, you chilly people in the northern hemisphere!
Interview with the Dairy Brothers that got overtaken by Lord of the Rings ... their feud with The Beards clearly continues!
A strange night out at the Rambutan Circus Collective
Labels: Adelaide, art, Beards, circus, Dairy Brothers, Dallas Crane, friends, grand plans, Menopause, Moonlight Cinema, The Battery Kids, Walking in this World
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Positive changes!
Good things are happening!
My wonderful American friends Julia and Steve have welcomed an adorable baby daughter who rejoices in the name of Aerin Syrah. Congratulations to the happy family! I finally spoke to Jules for over an hour today and they're both head over heels in love with the little one.
I have moved to a fixed address, for the first time in 6 months! I'm sharing an apartment in peaceful Unley, just south of the city centre, with a lovely guy from book group. The sun is shining, I'm checking out my new local library as I write this, and then I'm going shopping to make a celebratory dinner tonight followed by watching Much Ado About Nothing - a new modern British version apparently set in a TV station.
Australian television is fairly dire - the shows I enjoy watching (Grey's Anatomy, Numb3rs, House, NCIS, The OC, Black Books) are all either American or British. On the plus side, this means I have more time for the important things in life, like reading books.
The photo is of another exotic tree, this time one at the bottom of my new street. I don't know the name of it, but the red cups are slowly being shed to the ground, and walking underneath them along the pavement you hear a soft dry rattling like a rain stick. It's not the leaves rustling, but the dried seed pods being stirred by the breeze.
Labels: Adelaide, exotic fauna and flora, friends, libraries, television
Friday, January 12, 2007
Surprises, friendships and origami stars
well, things are moving on apace. I've applied to review Big Day Out Adelaide for www.vibewire.net, a site I've visited occasionally over the last few months. I would be so chuffed to win a ticket - if I got to go there and report on the experience, I'd not only interview the bands and punters, but also try and talk to the roadies, sound mixers, food vendors, security guards etc as I think the backup staff must have a lot of insider gossip! Vibewire is particularly notable for one very helpful columnist, Hailey Baldwin, who gives practical advice on pitching articles and getting published.
I got a message this morning from the former boyfriend, which surprised me a lot. After being left heartbroken, he realises that it hurts! and that perhaps it hurt me!
On the one hand, it's good to get some closure: finally, a genuine apology. I could wish that he'd said this sooner, when I was still crying myself to sleep every night. But perhaps it was something that he had to go through, thanks to the laws of karma. I'm glad that eh's come to some self-knowledge, but I thought I'd feel triumphant, dancing around going "Hah! Not so nice, is it? Yeah! Sob for me!" In fact, I just feel ... empty. Detached from his emotions. A certain amount of pity.
He actually asked me why I was always so nice to him. Well, when I tried to put myself in his shoes after the breakup, it came to me that he probably found it quite hard to look at himself in the mirror, knowing the mistakes he'd made and how badly he'd handled things. Also, to take a broader view, there's been so much negativity and hurt, for so long, that it makes no sense to put more of it out there.
The thing is that I want him to be happy. I'm not the one to make him happy, but I hope he finds someone who is. Does this mean that we can be friends? Do I even want him for a friend, knowing that he's not the fantastic person I thought he was? It's easier to speak on the phone than to see him in person, certainly, which I'm not sure I'll ever want to do again. On the other hand, after 3 years together we probably know each other better than our families and friends. And there aren't many people - I think this is particularly true in men's lives - that you can really open up to about your emotions, and share your upsets with. I'm English, he's Canadian, so we're both away from our immediate support networks, I suppose. So I've come to the conclusion that I will be civil and supportive as much as I can.
God! I guess I am learning all the time. You may bury your head in the sand in a relationship, blindly carrying on and not really developing further, but afterwards when you look back, even if there's nothing else positive ... you gain some self-knowledge.
I also want to pay tribute to all my friends. Tash and Rob who took me in, and also forced me to celebrate my birthday with delicious yum cha and actually laugh again, my wonderful and understanding cousin Anna who was a huge support, and everyone else who called, texted, emailed, or just hugged. That was another good thing: looking around me, I realised just how much love and concern I was surrounded by.
Positive vibes to everybody!
Now I need to get cleaning: when I return the keys to this flat I'm minding, I want to leave it pristine, all the linen washed, wine in the fridge, flowers with a nice scent and my 2 comedy CDs of "I'm Sorry, I Haven't A Clue." I hope Rachel will like them. I've also used up one of her charmingly tiny jars of Moccona coffee, so am embarking on a creative project: to clean it out and fill it with multicoloured origami stars. This is a haven of peace and calm: the picture shows the view from my balcony as the sun goes down.
Incidentally, if anyone's reading this and thinking, Gosh, she sounds like a lovely house sitter ... I am available from May onwards! and yes ... I will travel.
Labels: Adelaide, art, friends, grand plans, relationships, writing
