Monday, December 22, 2008

yuletide yuyu

my blogger christmas list is very small this year. compared to past good times, when i've given gifts, it's dwindled to a very select group of beautiful people. i'm only buying for regular bloggers, so all you people who have dropped out and have real lives, no present for you!

because my list is so small, i have spent more on each person.

i hope you enjoy.

first, a good friend of mine, jo_blue. jo is a sweetheart, i've known her for 20 years this year. she's a good friend, and her favourite colour is blue. so for dear jo, some beautiful blueness to put around the house in malaysia.

that's a toilet seat, left. not some crazy percussion instrument.

i don't know if you like blue cheese, but i'll eat it while i watch you open your pressies...

finally, a big blue TICK for you my friend. you are a good person, don't ever forget that. and keep up the blogging.


next, quite urgently, perseus q.

perseus wants a wife, so i got him one.

i decided not to stuff around with girlfriends, and having to return (or re-gift) etc.

just cut to the chase, no?
but she looks a little clean and conventional, doesn't she, so i got him a goth girl as well.

i think they'd all get on? im thinking while the wife is polishing the tureen, goth-girl and perse can, you know, smoke.

i'm also throwing in a womb chair and a librarian and a pirate. stocking stuffers, you know.

the pirate came without clothes, persey, you'll have to get her some of those.

thanks for your atheistic comradeship, as well as your wonderful, WONDERFUL book reviews/dating exposes this year. you are my favourite new friend.


next is the girl with many names. i think of her as alabama, but her real name is saskia. she writes poetry and while i generally don't like poetry, i like hers. she is a breath of sea air, a fluttery leaf on the wind, a dreamy slip of female. she has seaweed hair, and deep ocean eyes.

if i sound like i'm a little in love with her, well so be it.

for saskia, the pretty poetess, who loves the ocean, i got her the seven seas. it wasn't as hard as you might think. anything for my saskia.

1. the indian ocean

2. the black sea

3. the caspian sea

4. the adriatic sea

5. the persian gulf

6. the red sea

7. the mediterranean sea

all that watery goodness, wrapped up in some blue and green cellophane.

knock yourself out, darling girl. happy, safe swimming this summer.


next on my chrissy list is AOF, another outspoken female. in gift-giving times past, i made the mistake of saying i would cook her a roast of some sort, but NOW I KNOW SHE IS VEGETARIAN, i will shout her a trip to the us so she can go to the top-10 vegan and vego restaurants, and eat herself silly. it's a ticket for two, so she can take not boyfriend. i'll look after her cats for her, water her plants, all that.

princess and i met aof earlier this year, which was a delight. i do like meeting bloggers. but not the freaky ones. just the nice ones.

oh, almost forgot. a stocking stuffer for you as well.

any book or podcast or essay of germaine's that you don't already have.
plus a glass of wine, it seems.

ah, my favouritest blogger. he is such a nice person, and if "nice" is a questionable word to use (shades of middle'dom, and all that) well, stuff you, disliker of nice. nice is a good word, and i am reclaiming it and using it for my dear friend INC.

i thought and i thought and i thought about what to get INC. you know, he has it all. he has a lovely wife and two beautiful boys. they have a house, they have fun-times, lots of laughs and they use "dude" all the time.

what more does this man need?

he has his religious faith, he has his intelligence and wonderful writerly ways.

but you know what he doesn't have?

a job that he likes. hell, a job that he loves.

so, for INC i am giving him that job.

it's in this box, INC. open it and tell me what it is. it's a magic box, you see. perhaps it contains the tools of being a cartoon-creator, an x-box games designer, a pilot, a traindriver, a tennis coach? because even though i know you quite well, i don't know what it is you would like to do most with the rest of your working life.

perhaps it contains a lawyer's hat - but a different type of lawyer.

happy christmas inc.

and last but certainly not least, my oldest blog-buddy, meaning i've known this dude online for as long as i've had my blog which i think is 3 1/2 years. he also takes the award for travelling the largest distance along the continuum of blogging regularity - from most frequent and prolific blogger, to "person least-likely to have a new post on his blog."

but i know he's around, indeed he has even visited these parts recently.

it's BEVIS.

bevis and i go way back. we've had stoushes, and warm, fuzzy feel-good moments. heck, i came runner-up in his big blogger competition, he was here when clokes and i got engaged, he was here when my house got broken into (two houses ago), i was here for the birth of his TWO children. so i've loved him long-time.

for bevis, i give him some time:

some magic dust

and a robot that can take his place in the family hustle and bustle every now and then so he can sneak off and resume his bloggy goodness more often.

for anyone else i haven't bought for, this box is for you.
open it and tell me what it is:
thanks for reading everyone. have a happy, safe chrissy and new year. i'll be around but transmission will be down for a couple of weeks or so.

Friday, December 19, 2008

small confession

i just went and looked at fits' blog.

i thought, hoped, that maybe, just MAYBE, bettie page's death might have, MIGHT HAVE made her come out of retirement-perma hiatus, and do a little, JUST A LITTLE, WEE, TINY, post.

but no.

perma-abandoned is me.

but hay, i have some diary pics, to represent the younger me. so that's good.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

things you don't want to happen three hours before your 12-year old highly-strung, over-tired daughter has a function at the sofitel













what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?
what am i being punished for?

i hate that fucking iron.

this is why i don't iron.

why does the brown shit come out when you have it on a lower setting? ie SILK???????

why doesn't it come out on clokes' business shirts?

i want it to come out on clokes' business shirts because it only happens to me, and i told him we need a new iron, but because it's his, it's "fine".

why does it have to come out on princess' dress?

oooh la la, sunshine is coming out.

meltdown might be nearly over.

* * *


10.11pm sees me continuing the whinge-fest.

Ok, dress - I got the stains out, and managed to dry the fucker on the clotheshorse in the wind and sunshine between 3 and 5pm. I didn't iron it. The wrinkled look is in.

Then we were to be dropped off at the hotel but the traffic was so bad up St Kilda Rd, we jumped out of the car and onto a tram, then had to run up Collins St.

Made it.

Then I played bag lady at Collins Place. A bit of linguine pasta and a wine at the sports bar type place, a bit of a browse in Dymocks and get this, the salesgirl came up to me as I was browsing and said "This is going to sound a bit weird, but would you be ok for ten minutes while I go to the toilet?"

Me: "Yes, I'll be fine."

And then she went. And locked me in, with another bag lady who looked like a real bag lady.

Then I drifted up to 7-11 and bought a Kit Kat. Then I drifted back, and found a table and did the crossword. Then at 7.25 I went back to the Sofitel lobby, and proceeded to almost doze off while agonising over the last 3 crossword words.

Finally, 30 minutes late, they came down. Then we had to walk down to Swanston St to catch the tram. Then on the tram a smack-head got on, with a lit cigarette and proceeded to piss everyone off by smoking it, especially the woman who was eating a banana, and her over-ripe banana smell had been annoying me, so that's perspective for you. But everyone was too scared to say anything to the dude, including me. Didn't see what happened to the smoke, but he started to nod off, and he was right near us, and people had moved away from him so there was no buffer zone, and then at Domain Interchange, when he stamped his feet and started to get agitated (heroin does that?) I said to Princess "stand up, we're getting off."

Just as we went down the steps I heard a voice yell out "FUCK OFF!!!"

Methinks my gut feeling was right. The tram trundled off, with everyone else captive to his unpredictableness. If I'd been alone, I would have stayed on. Princess doesn't need that, not after the day we've had.

So, we waited at Domain, then got on our tram.

Just as we were about at our stop, it was pissing down heaps. We were laughing about using the newspaper as hats, and I rolled up my jeans, and Princess said "My dress! My HAY-ER!" and I said "Stuff your hair, and don't worry about your dress, I washed it twice, it's ok with water, it's the brown stuff from the iron (and your friend's coke on Tuesday night) that's the problem'o.

Then magically, just as we stepped off the tram, into puddles, the rain had stopped. So we didn't need to take shelter in the Bad English Pub, we managed to walk to our place without getting wet.

What a day. It's been a marathon week, staggering to the finish line. Which is tomorrow.

Can I do West Wing? I think not. Bed and Barack for me.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

an analysis of Germaine's analysis of Australia

I was going to do a proper post but I can't be arsed, I have things to do, besides I've just found what is possibly the most interesting blog of 2008, a blog dedicated to Nicole Kidman's Forehead.

I'm torn, also, between posting on the idiot parents of Adolf Hitler in the US which I've just seen on the Age website.

Some points re Germaine though. I am a self-admitted Greer fan-girl, and while reading her article in todays' Age about the movie Australia, I found myself agreeing with her on some points, but I also realised I was annoyed by her review. It's not a film review, as such. It's more a litany of flaws as she sees them.

The problem is that maybe she is too cerebral to be able to enjoy entertainment and a bit of froth and frippery. I wonder if she has an imaginative bone in her body. I think she's one of those hyper-smart people who takes everything far too seriously, and while she can crack ironic and witty-quips with the best of them, it's always still terribly clever, and I think she find it's difficult to remove her scholar hat and the feeling that the world is waiting for her words, and to just re-fucking-lax.

Greer also used her article to have a bitchy go at Marcia Langton (some hangover revenge from just before Germaine came out to do the publicity for her essay on Rage, perchance?).

Rather than go through the article, picking out points, what reading it made me think about was this fundamental question:

Do filmmakers have a responsibility to be historically accurate with their fictionalised accounts that they bring to the screen?

Germaine obviously thinks they do. While Baz was sloppy with research (as pointed out by Germaine), I wonder whether the mechanisms of fiction mean that you can pick this and that, borrow and transform. It's a creative process. Where does inaccuracy then start to undermine credibility?

To Nicole's Forehead now.

Tuesday, December 09, 2008

no offence, but

i want to talk about the idea of god, the idea of heaven, and how it's all just a delusion, to steal the most appropriate word i can think of from mr. dawkins.

reading the paper today, and specifically the text message about the runner who died from cancer, saying "she's in heaven now" instead of "she's died" made me want to puke.

why do adults, seemingly intelligent adults, buy this rubbish?

it's because they (we, i'll include myself) are so scared of death, so terrified it's final and black and nothing.

i am scared of death. when i think of it, though, i push the thought away and try to live in the present and enjoy my life and be grateful. i don't comfort (delude) myself that it will be lovely, and there'll be heaven and family reunions and a pony for everyone.

likewise, the tons of messages on the triple m website for richard marsland. all this guff about god having a new comedy writer on the team, and heaven will all be laughing, and the angels had plans for richard.


come on. give me your best shot. what have you got to convince me?

logic and intelligence is on my side.

and i want to say, one of my fave bloggers is a religious man in the traditional sense of the word. i don't want to piss him off, but at the same time, i can't censor myself just to tip-toe around others. so, sorry dude.

Monday, December 08, 2008

feeling sad about richard marsland

i'll miss his lovely voice. a funny guy. and his nicholas cage impersonations - so clever.

it's really sad.

* i edited the above to make it clearer about the nic cage reference.

still sad.

Friday, December 05, 2008

Rumi Friday

A Man and A Woman Arguing
One night in the desert
a poor Bedouin woman has this to say
to her husband,

"Everyone is happy
and prosperous, except us! We have no bread.
We have no spices. We have no water jug.
We barely have any clothes. No blankets

for the night. we fantasize that the full moon
is a cake. We reach for it! We're an embarrassment
even to the beggars. Everyone avoids us.

Arab men are supposed to be generous warriors,
but look at you, stumbling around! If some guest
were to come to us, we'd steal his rags
when he fell asleep. Whos is your guide
that leads you to this? We can't even get
a handful of lentils! Ten years' worth
of nothing, that's what we are!"

She went on and on.
"If God is abundant, we must be following
an imposter. Who's leading us? Some fake,
that always says, Tomorrow, illumination
will bring you treasure, tomorrow.

As everyone knows, that never comes.
Though I guess, it happens very rarely, sometimes,
that a disciple following an imposter can somehow
surpass the pretender. But still I want to know
what this deprivation says about us."

The husband replied, finally,
"How long will you complain
about mooney and our prospects for money? The torrent
of our life has mostly gone by. Don't worry about
transient things. Think how the animals live.

The dove on the branch giving thanks.
The glorious singing of the nightingale.
The gnat. The elephant. Every living thing
trusts in God for its nourishment.

These pains that you feel are messengers.
Listen to them. Turn them to sweetness. The night
is almost over. You were young once, and content.
Now you think about money all the time.

You used to be that money. You were a healthy vine.
Now you're a rotten fruit. You ought to be growing
sweeter and sweeter, but you've gone bad.
As my wife, you should be equal to me.
Like a pair of boots, if one is too tight,
the pair is of no use.

Like two folding doors, we can't be mismatched.
A lion does not mate with a wolf."

So this man who was happily poor
scolded his wife until daybreak,
when she responded,

"Don't talk to me
about your high station! Look how you act!
Spiritual arrogance is the ugliest of all things.
It's like a day that's cold and snowy,
and your clothes are wet too!

It's too much to bear!
And don't call me your mate, you fraud!
You scramble after scraps of bone
with the dogs.

You're not as satisfied as you pretend!
You're the snake and the snake charmer
at the same time, but you don't know it.
You're charming a snake for money,
and the snake is charming you.

You talk about God a lot, and you make me feel guitly
by using that word. You better watch out!
That word will poison you, if you use it
to have power over me."

So the rough volume of her talking
fell on the husband, and he fought back,
this poverty is my deepest joy.
This bare way of life is honest and beautiful.
We can hide nothing when we're like this.
You say I'm really arrogant and greedy,
and you say I'm a snake charmer and a snake,
but those nicknames are for you.

In your anger and your wantings
you see those qualities in me.
I want nothing from this world.

You're like a child that has turned round and round,
and now you think the house is turning.

It's your eyes that see wrong. Be patient,
and you'll see the blessings and the lord's light
in how we live."

This argument continued
throughout the day, and even longer.


Rumi 1207-1273

Nothing much has changed, has it?

Thursday, December 04, 2008

Baz Australia

Do I really need to put a disclaimer here about spoilers? Surely you can work it out for yourself about reading this, or not reading this.

Dear Baz,

Last night, my sister and I went to see your film Australia. I thought you wouldn't mind me writing to you directly, hell, maybe you'd even welcome it. I imagine some people, when they are face-to-face with you, are sycophantically pussy-footing around the movie, saying how wonderful it is, epic, the new Gone with the Wind, etc. You have all your 'yes people' with you, and all the no-people seem to be writing reviews which are being published world-wide. It's a complete onslaught of "this is shit" pretty much, even Jim Schembri has written three reviews, that I've seen in the one publication. THREE. What's that all about?

There were too many. Look, I know you had to get every single fucking Australian actor into this movie. But Bryan Brown, David Wenham, Barry Otto, Jack Thompson, all in a matter of minutes, all scurrying around looking through binoculars and telescopes at the port? Bryan was wasted, David was much too much evil, Barry was ok, but it was hard to understand who he was and what his interests were, and Jack. He was ok. Barry seemed a neutral character, Bryan was a baddie, as was David. Jack was a heart-of-gold flawed accountant (point?), and by the time Ben Mendelsson appeared (as a rival for Lady Sarah's love? unclear) and John Jarrett as a very shouty army man, it was obvious to me that there were just too many people to keep track of. I've probably forgotten some of them. There were a small group of police officers (minor characters), Evil David Wenham's sidekicks (very minor). There was a bigoted bar-keeper. Some snotty wives, one nice wife (married to Evil David a bit later).

Then the main characters. They were all ok. Hugh (the Drover), ok. Nicole (Lady Sarak), ok, but too startled looking too often. Brandon the boy who played a central character, Nullah, the boy who has to hide anytime the coppers come, and who gets caught up in the central relationship between the Drover and Lady Sarah.

My suggestions:
Baz, if you'd kept the focus on the main characters. Show us a bit more of their romance, increase the indigenous characters, let these characters show us a bit more of their stories, emphasise the stolen children issue a bit more, images of kids being taken away, Lady Sarah being told about these things, indigenous stories around the campfire etc. Show her falling in love with the countryside. There was a line somewhere, after she'd buried her husband, where she said something like I have no idea what my husband saw in this land. That was the moment when you should have picked up the reins, Baz, thinking ok, I'll show the world what there is to love about this country. It's unique beauty. And also great potential there to educate the world about the indigenous issues we have, and the shameful part of this country's history. Full marks for going there, but you didn't go there enough.

You should have had just the one evil character. An audience only needs one, can only cope with one. My pick would have been Bryan Brown. Get rid of Wenham. Brown can be more menacing that Wenham, and despite Brown being a walking ocker cliche, Wenham overacted. I know you like the overacting, the almost caricatured display of personality on-screen, but for me, it didn't work. You should have lost the accountant (Jack Thompson) and most of these minor, yet name, characters.

The cinematography
Baz, you got this bit right. I loved it in Romeo and Juliet and I loved it in this movie, and while I felt you could have lingered a little less on some of the scenery shots, some scenes were truly beautiful, in a magic-realism type way. I liked the way you developed the theme of magic, and mystery, with Nullah and his wonderfully-named grandfather King George (David Gulpilil) singing to each other, and King George always being present around his grandson, looking out for him from afar like some watchful stork, whether he be atop a mountain ridge or a water tower in Darwin. He was always there, always understanding and seeing what was about to happen.

Some early scenes in the billabong were gorgeous and so lushly spectacular; I loved those.

I was distracted by what I suspected were CGI-enhanced scenes. Yes, I know, I don't know what you would do about that either. But you're the expert. Make them seem less fake? I didn't go to film school, you tell me what you would do. Rewrite the scene so it doesn't need a fucking ravine for the cattle to be stampeding towards? There must be a way. But the bit where Nullah is on the edge, and stops the cattle, that was good. And it signalled the moment when Lady Sarah starts to invest emotionally in the boy.

Attention to detail - full marks, Baz, for costuming and the little details of life back then, including the decor of the homestead. I'm guessing that was all historically accurate, but if not, it was exquisite.

Christmas at the tree. I really dug that tree.

The music was good, especially the appearance of Old Rolf with his wobble board. But why oh why did you get Elton to write a song about Australia? Was there no Australian artist that could do it? Shame on you. I loved the insertion of Wizard of Oz references into the movie, that worked for me.

Um, if I were you I would have, like I said, make it just one villain, concentrate more on the droving journey, the relationship between Lady Sarah and the Drover and the boy (who incidentally needed to be shown mourning and/or missing his mother a little more). All the war stuff was ok, but the Nice Wife (of Evil David) could have been a little more developed, and a friendship between her and Lady Sarah needed to be fleshed out just a little. One exchange would have done it, before we saw them at work in their army khakis at the radio station. A little more fleshing out of the snobbishness of "society" directed at the Drover (he said he was as good as black in their eyes, I guess for living with the aborigines, having married an indigenous woman), a bit more of a relationship between the Drover and his stock-hand, also his brother-in-law who sacrifices himself to save a bunch of kids at the end.

General comment
On the acting, I think Nicole was actually better than Hugh. He was trying to be a sensitive new age guy, but also a Drover who lived life rough. It kind of didn't work. He cried, copiously, towards the end. I'm not sure how I feel about seeing a Drover cry. In a bar. While saying "give him a fucking drink!" But I wouldn't turn him down. Baz, I give you permission to pass on my url. David Gulpilil was fine, as always. Brandon Waters was mega.

Minor nitpicking
Baz, sorry, but in my you have a cinema-goer who if not taken right into the movie, will sit on the edge and notice things. In this case, last night I was not swept away, I remained on the outside of the screen, and this is what I noticed:

1. I think Hugh's beard should have stayed on for the ball. He didn't look as spunky and he looked like he had eyeliner on. He did, didn't he?

2. You should have told Nicole to relax her eyes a bit. If she can. Just saying. And I know she's your muse, but if you're going to make another movie, you need a new muse. Like Woody Allen. He's moved on from Diane Keaton, to Scarlett Johansson. You also need to move on. I'll think about suggestions.

3. The "sex scene" (it really wasn't) between the Drover and Lady Sarah should have been fleshed out a bit more. Heh.

I know you've got the goods, for example where the hull was this:

Now I know for sure, I did not see this in the movie, there is no way I'd miss his hand on her arse. There was no upright action, I'm sure they shot straight to the horizontal. BORING. Plus I noticed a little bit of vein action on Nicole's left leg. Hello, ever heard of body make-up?

4. There was inconsistency in Nicole's face, from scene to scene. Maybe she was pregnant during that part, but in the middle somewhere, around the Ball scenes, her face looked so different, kind of saggy, a bit bloated, tired. Not the usual, taut skin. For me, it was quite obvious.

But kudos, Baz, for having one close-up where we could see she has pores like the rest of us:

5. David Wenham, in one scene, reprised his Diver Dan muttering. It was annoying and distracting. He did it twice.

Small things I noticed which were good:

1. The bit where Hugh is talking about his past "romantic life" while they are camping, just after his wet his torso and there's a moment when the camera slips down to his groin, his trousers are low-slung and his hand kind of goes there for a split second. It looks hairy and damp and you can see his groin lines. Mmmm.

2. The kissing was good. No, really. I liked it.

3. The little domestic tensions that started creeping in; he's a man, he's a drover, he wants to drove. He doesn't want to hang around the house all day. She's a woman, she's insecure, she wants her man around. They have a tiff. He storms off. For six months.

4. At the beginning, they are in the car going to Faraway Downs, her homestead. She is wearing the funniest goggle-type glasses. Good work Baz, and Nicole.

5. The humour works quite well. Nicole is reasonably good at humour, and she did it well, with her semi-hysterical little intakes of breath, snorts and gasps. Not bad.

6. There was no scene of Him washing Her hair in the outback. This is a good thing. Well done Baz for resisting that particular mistake. It's been done well once, you can't compete. Good man.

7. I read somewhere it took a lot of frigging about to get Hugh's clothes working. I have one word to say. Belt. As my sister said, he knows how to wear a belt. More mmmm.

Hugh channelling Clint near the iconic boab tree.

So that's maybe about it, Baz. Thanks for the movie. I did enjoy it. If you want to know whether I cried, I did. But not as much as my sister. Things that made me cry were Nullah and his grandfather. I cried at the end when Nicole, who is now attached to the boy in a motherly way (despite us knowing she considers herself a not very maternal person, and she physically can't have children) lets him go walkabout. Brandon Waters, as Nullah, is awesome. But I hope we don't see him again in another movie. Let this be his one time, and let him now have his childhood. There was something vulnerable in him that you didn't see in say a young Lindsay Lohan or Olsen twin.

I do commend you, Baz, for tackling the uncomfortable issue of race, and the history of racism in this country. Maybe it's this that is making people edgy about the movie, and feeling they have to slam it. I read somewhere a comment from an American who said "Wow, who knew the Aussies were so racist?"

We need to be able to confront our history, and our racist tendencies as human beings, and try to make amends, and try to find a way to all co-exist. To say sorry. This movie was timely, with what's happened in America with Barack Obama's election - he is mixed race, he knows about belonging, and not belonging. He has confronted, and hopefully will continue to confront, the ambiguities, uncertainties and discomfort of race and its relevance in the world. This movie was a wonderful vehicle to present these ideas to a mass audience; in that respect, I think you have succeeded Baz. But more work needs to be done. This could never be a one-shot panacea. Was this a Sorry Film, Baz? I suspect it was. If so, I respect that you've done it. Was this also an advertisement for Australia? If so, I think it has failed. Because other people from other countries maybe won't be able to see past the cliche and the humour, and find the heart of our country. Because I don't think the movie has much heart. I couldn't feel it, I couldn't hear it. It needed more heart, and whether that failed because of the cast, the plot, the direction, I couldn't say.

I wanted to be swept away, but I wasn't.

I wanted to be touched more, but I wasn't.

I wanted to see a big-hearted movie, from a man I have considered could not put a foot wrong, but I was disappointed. But I don't think the scathing reviews and general undercurrent of nastiness is warranted. It wasn't epic, it wasn't great, but it is ours and I liked it enough.

Yours sincerely,


Tuesday, December 02, 2008

time for some serious blogging

ok, after the fripperies of oysters, and the intensity of running cinema 101 for an ill child (back at school today) i need to talk to you about something very important.
so... lean close. in a nice, intimate huddle. ok.
this is for the girls only, so boys you can go and have a wank or whatever it is you do when girls talk about shoes. play some warcraft, or go on twitter and tell the world all about nothing.
today is a shoe post.
for, on the weekend, in one of the newspaper magazines, i saw an advertisement for these:
and the information that there is a limited release on now. i have been looking for these fucking clogs for years. when i say years, i mean years. i mean like 8 or so??
oh sure, i found some pretenders in that shoe shop in sorrento-darling, and i was so excited i got two pairs, white and red. and then they fell apart. the studs started coming out of the leather, detaching from the sole, within about 3 wears. plus they killed my feet.
now, i know the pain just goes with new shoes for me. i swear, even runners can rub. it's just my feet. or heels to be more precise. i think i have pretty feet, they are nice and small and cute. but they don't like shoes. i know i've talked on here before about how i would like to wear thongs and ugg boots for the rest of my life. but i would throw these clogs in the mix. i just like them.
so, today sees me driving off on a mission, to get these clogs. i want the white pair. and maybe the black pair. because who knows, it might be years before they are in the shops again.
these are the real deal. not those faux ones with the soft, plasticcy sole, or the suede'y top part.
the real deal.
and to finish my sermon, i leave you with this little delight. yes, i have shared this one before. but it needs to be shared again.

Monday, December 01, 2008

educating the princess

evidence i have chosen the right secondary school for my princess.

2008 second-hand book sale list contains the following:

boy - tales of a childhood (roald dahl)
of mice and men (steinbeck)
romeo and juliet (old bill shakey)
animal farm (mr orwell)
medea/hecabe/electra/heracles (euripides)
macbeth (you know who)
to kill a mockingbird (harper lee)
william blake's selected poems
streetcar named desire
the crucible
romulus, my father
theban plays (oedipus rex etc)
the old man and the sea (old hem)
god of small things
summer of the seventeenth doll
great gatsby
bloody turgenev and solzhenitsyn
siddhartha (hess)
perfume by suskind
l'etranger, mais bien sur
the republic, by plato

the only gaps i can see are machiavelli's the prince (but she knows that shit anyway), austen (she can read that herself) and the lovesong of j. alfred prufrock (there will be time... for me to teach her about prufrock).

i can't tell you how happy i am not to see trainspotting or some contemporary flash-in-the-pan novels like shantaram (i like it, don't get me wrong, but it's not a 'classic') or anime or manga stuff, to dumb it all down for the "non-readers." unfortunately the kite runner is on the list ( i have heard it is not good so have avoided) also a morris gleitzman novel - boy overboard, but i think that one is ok, cultural exchange and all that. but the snob in me is prepared to overlook a couple of mis-hits.

* * *

in other news, clokes, the kids and i enjoyed a very pleasant eyeball (to use the old CB lingo) in the park with the loverly i'm not craig and his wife and two beautiful boys yesterday. we were lucky the weather held for us, we sat and ate and drank wine and it wasn't uncomfortable at all!

what a great family, and yes, he is as nice in person as he seems in blogworld.

so, thanks inc, and your lovely wife. jells park next time!

happy days all.