Friday

The UGGs are on, and so is the cardigan. Melbourne's gone cold.

Today I taught at a girls' school - a group of Year 8s - and it was fantastic. They were great, I was great. Sorry, can't help the hubris but you gotta own it, don't you? When I finish a session that's gone well (I'd say 99% of them) it's like I imagine a stand-up comedian coming off stage after nailing a show. The high is immense; the feel-good of having done good work, connected with the audience, gotten the laughs where you wanted to, had them thinking where you wanted them to.

At Year 8 we teeter on the edge of explicit stuff, keeping it just this side of confronting. We keep it to the theoretical in a way, and try to deal with what they are facing, realistically, in their lives now and within about 6 months or so. Some will be starting to be sexually active, most won't. Some will have partners they kiss and cuddle with, some won't. For me, today the session was more about 'what's it like growing up to be a woman?' and what are some of the things we have to think about. It's good to get their opinions and responses, invite them to think about what some of the choices they might have, and might have to make. Body hair is a simple one. How do they feel about shaving and waxing? At that age, it's not quite about vulvae yet, it's about legs and armpits. It's not about us standing up and telling them what's what either.

One question that I ALWAYS ask groups when oral sex comes up with (or we bring it up): Is oral sex 'real sex'?

And no one ever puts up their hand to agree.

They don't count it as real sex, which it isn't if you think real sex is only intercourse. But then, I ask them, how do gay or lesbian couples have real sex? If you only count it as penis in vagina sex, then how do other people lose their virginity? If they don't have a life-time of penis > vagina sex.

Interesting questions, all of them.

*

And in other news, there is no other news. Let's call it publisher three has asked for an extra week. Publisher one (the one who LOVED it and is now in turmoil with the 'internal stuff') my agent hasn't reported anything from, other than that she was trying to find out if there was still any hope for my book. She doesn't hold much hope herself, she said, but there's still a chance, I guess, we haven't had a no. Publisher two is one from the original group who passed and apparently has been asking again. So that's it. No YES, one sniffing, one asking for more time (do not know if this is a good sign or a bad sign)

FUCK

and one silent.

silencio
silencio

I am as understanding and at ease as Naomi Watts in Club Silencio in Mulholland Drive. The good thing is: wine, fish & chips tonight, plenty of writing time over the weekend and into next week AND then next week also, me and old chicken-foot Clokesy head off to Hong Kong for five days. Nice.

And GO CATS. Geelong and Collingwood play tomorrow night. 3/5 of our household is COLL; 2/5 are pro-Geelong people. Interesting.

The bad thing about sharing a bed is that

when the other person wakes you up with their sharp chicken foot at 5am, and then does it again, and again, and then when you are really awake they start breathing really heavily and then snoring, that's all not even the worst thing. The worst thing is that you can't turn on the light to read and then hopefully fall back to sleep.

Oh no.

You have to get up and leave the bed, go out into the chilly house.

You can't make a coffee because it'll wake up two of the three children.

So you tell yourself you might as well work.

But in other news, how were those Geelong boys last night?

So I wore my puffy orange today.

I need to get a better pic, or at least one with a femme instead of an homme.

Or should that be puffy Orange? It seems it needs a capital. I had a quick coffee meeting with my business partner, in a cafe about half-way between our houses. She squeezed me in between basketball practices and I squeezed her in between dropping Princess over at her grandmother's to go to the opera and me cleaning the house in a frenzy.

No reason for the cleaning, apart from the house being a fucking brothel of mess and clutter and even, yes even dirt that has somehow blown in through the windows and coated the window sills.

I'm not a house-wifely person. Some are and that's fine, but I'm just not. I put it off as long as possible: I light scented candles, move piles around rooms, pick dog hair and human hair off my socks while sitting on the couch until just the day before my period is due I go into a frenzy. it's like I think I'm going to have a baby or something and I have to nest. The cleaning (and the resentment I feel against any and all who live in this house with me) feeds my hormone-rage until I'm in a state, saying fuck a lot in my head, having whole conversations where I blast someone, and then I have to take myself to bed to have a lie-down and read, and then drink wine far too early. And probably eat a whole bowl of chips (but not the whole packet: see, I've left some in the bottom - this is how I let myself off.) This is if this occurs on a Saturday, say. Like today.

I have no publishing news. I have no news about anything other than I dashed off a short story yesterday and am working on revising others. There are some writerly deadlines coming up for writing things that I would like to submit for. Teaching is going well. Home life is fine. I'm a bit overwhelmed with reading options at the moment. Probably because I keep buying books and then can't decide and then skip around and can't settle.

So. That's about it. I hope I bleed soon, I'm feeling rawther rotten. Bluddy hormones.

Happy Satire Friday

This is nice:

From this page

THE SOIN: Gillard Cures Cancer in Spare Time, Approval Rating Plummets
by CAMERON SMITH, April 24, 2013 

Federal Labor reached a new low in the polls this week with the unmarried, female, atheist, red-haired immigrant Prime Minister’s approval rating dropping almost 10 percentage points after it was announced she had successfully developed a cure for cancer. Pundits have suggested this slump is most likely a result of the highly successful scare campaign run by the Opposition, highlighting the flaws of such a move.

When questioned at a press conference as to whether she saw any meaning in this slump, Ms Gillard responded: “Fuck them. Fuck the lot of them. They deserve Abbott, those fucking hyper-critical sheep. I mean seriously, he hasn’t even got a platform to run on; all he’s done is criticise every single fucking move we make and then failed to meet us halfway when we try to actually govern the country for you fuckwits. I give up. Enjoy your dial-up internet and corporate overlords. I’m moving to New Zealand.” Gillard’s press team later issued a correction to this statement, clarifying Ms Gillard had actually mean to say, “No”.

Liberal Party members were quick to criticise this outburst by the Prime Minister, pointing out that they had in fact already developed their own alternate plan for curing cancer, utilising an existing radiotherapy technique that is fractionally faster and only has a failure rate in the mid-range double digits. Shadow Health Minister Peter Dutton prepared a speech to be read by more popular party member Malcom Turnbull, but was stopped at the door by spin doctors who were concerned it might actually look like a policy.

Broadcaster and philosopher Alan Jones used his radio program to raise the concern that curing cancer was little more than a jaded attempt by Federal Labor to reduce the ratio of staff to patients in public hospitals. “They’re just trying to run away from their commitment to increase the number of beds and doctors in public healthcare. Typical Julia at it again,” said Jones, somewhere in the middle of a two hour rant detailing the excessive lint on his socks and the high price of roasted chestnuts.

Nationals spokesman Barnaby Joyce unleashed a particularly virulent attack on Labor’s new plan to cure all cancer, stating, “It just doesn’t apply to the common person on the street, does it? I’m sick of the Labor party overlooking real, everyday problems like stopping those bastard asylum seekers from fleeing war-torn dictatorships, and instead pandering to fringe issues like cancer. I’ve never even known anyone who’s had cancer, but I sure as hell run into asylum seekers on a daily basis, and this has got to stop!”

When stopped in the street for comment, average bricklayer Joe Citizen, “Well, at first I thought curing cancer was a good policy, but Turnbull just seemed so sure that this was a ridiculous plan that just pushes us further into debt. I mean he wouldn’t have had Tony standing next to him nodding so assuredly if they weren’t right, eh? And God knows I haven’t got the free time needed to actually look into the merits of the policies of the people who govern our country, so I guess I’ll just take their word for it.”

Major pharmaceutical companies have also played a key role in the success of the Liberal’s smear campaign, running a series of ads depicting the average, working doctors who will be affected by this policy, played by a number of paid actors standing in farmland, wearing Akubras. Pfitzer spokesman and part-time boogeyman John Watkins explained, “Well, it just worked so well for the mining companies, and no one even noticed that miners don’t actually walk around farmland all day wearing Akubras, so we figured we’d give it a go too. These days people’ll swallow any old drivel as long as it’s on TV, just look at The Project!” The campaign has been highly successful.
The Liberal Party is expected to launch their new advertising campaign, “Stop the boats, not the cancer” early next week, in time for Labor’s next leadership spill.

(Tony Abbott was approached for comment in relation to this piece, but was unavailable due to a prior commitment of laughing maniacally at the gullibility of the average voter.)

The Pillars of Creation

I don't quite know why, but this makes me sad. Look how beautiful they are, and to think they are probably gone. At least this is one thing that we can't blame the humans for. It's just the universe and how it works. Text is taken from facebook page The Universe

The pillars are active star forming regions in the Eagle Nebula, 7,000 light years distant; the largest of the pillars has a height of about 40 trillion kilometres (4 light years). They consist mainly of molecular hydrogen and dust. These pillars will be destroyed fairly soon either by gradual erosion from the strong stellar winds from new born stars within and around the pillars or from supernovae nearby blowing away the remaining gas and dust.

Scientists discovered a cloud of hot gas believed to be a shock wave from a supernova and thought to hit and destroy the pillars in 1,000 years’ time. As the light from the pillars takes around 7,000 years to reach Earth, the pillars likely have already been destroyed; we see the pillars as they were 7,000 years ago.

This image was taken in 1995 by NASA's Hubble Space Telescope and highlights the pillars where new stars are thought to be forming.

http://www.sun.org/images/pillars-of-creation
http://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/herschel/news/herschel20120118.html
Image credit: NASA, Jeff Hester, and Paul Scowen (Arizona State University)

Um, what am I missing?

Weapon of mass destruction definition from wiki: A weapon of mass destruction (WMD) is a weapon that can kill and bring significant harm to a large number of humans (and other life forms) and/or cause great damage to man-made structures (e.g. buildings), natural structures (e.g. mountains), or the  biosphere in general. The scope and application of the term has evolved and been disputed, often signifying more politically than technically. Coined in reference to aerial bombing with chemical explosives, it has come to distinguish large-scale weaponry of other technologies, such as chemical, biological, radiological or nuclear.


Boston bombing suspect faces death penalty over weapon of mass destruction charge.

Via Mr E. Just to get the bad taste of Australian politics out of our collective mouths, and make us cry

The Crickets Have Arthritis

Shane Koyczan | poet

The Crickets have Arthritis by Shane Koyczan

It doesn't matter why I was there, where the air is sterile and the sheets sting. It doesnt matter that I was hooked up to this thing that buzzed and beeped every time my heart leaped like a man who's faith tells him God's hands are big enough to catch an airplane, or a world. It doesn't matter that I was curled up like a fist protesting death, or that every breath was either hard labour or hard time, or that I'm either always too hot or too cold. Doesn't matter because my hospital roommate wears star wars pajamas, and he's 9 years old. His name is Louis, and I don't have to ask what he's got.The bald head with the skin and bones frame speaks volumes. The gameboy and the feather pillow booms like they're trying to make him feel at home because he's going to be here awhile.

I manage a smile the first time I see him and it feels like the biggest lie I have ever told, so I hold my breath cos I'm thinking any minute now he's going to call me on it. I hold my breath because I'm scared of a 57 pound boy hooked up to a machine because he's been watching me and maybe I've got him pegged all wrong, like maybe he's bionic or some shit. So I look away like just I made eye contact with a gang member who's got a rap sheet the length of a lecture on dumb mistakes politicians have made. I look away like he's going to give me my life back the moment I've got something to trade. I damn near pull out my pack and say, "Cigarette?"

But my fear subsides in the moment I realize Louis is all show and tell. He's got everything from a shotgun shell to a crows foot and he can put them all in context. Like, "See, this is from a shooting range", and "See, this is from a weird girl". I watch his hands curl around a cuff-link and a tie-tack and realize that every nick-nack is a treasure and every treasure has a story, and every time I think I can't handle more he hits me with another story. He says, "See, this is from my father" "See, this is from my brother" "See, this is from that weird girl" "See, this is from my mother". Took me about two days to figure out that weird girl is his sister, it took him about two hours today after she left for him to figure out he missed her. And they visit every day, and stay well past visiting hours because for them that term doesn't apply. But when they do leave, Louis and I are left alone. And he says, "The worst part about being sick is that you get all the free ice cream you ask for." And he says, "The worst part about that is realizing there is nothing more they can do for you." He says, "Ice cream can't make everything okay."

And there is no easy way of asking, and I know what he's going to say but maybe he just needs to say it, so I ask him anyway. "Are you scared?" Louis doesn't even lower his voice when he says, "Fuck yeah." I listen to a 9 year old boy say the word fuck like he was a 30 year old man with a nose-bleed being lowered into a shark tank, he's got a right to it. And if it takes this kid a curse word to help him get through it, then I want to teach him to swear like the devil's sitting there taking notes with a pen and a pad. But before I can forget that Louis is 9 years old he says, "Please don't tell my dad."

He asks me if I believe in angels. And before I realize I don't have the heart to tell him, I tell him, "Not lately." and I just lay there waiting for him to hate me. But he doesn't know how to, so he never does. Louis loves like a man who lived in a time before God gave religion to men and left it to them to figure out what hate was. He never greets me with silence, only smiles and a patience I've never seen in someone who knows they're dying. And I'm trying so hard not to remind him I'll be out of here in a couple days, smoking cigarettes and taking my life for granted. And he'll still be planted in this bed like a flower that refuses to grow. I've been with him for 5 days and all I really know is that Louis loves to pull feathers out of his pillow, and watch them float to the ground. Almost as if he's the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say, "It's gravity that's been getting us down."

The truth is: there's not enough miracles to go around, kid. And there's too many people petitioning God for the winning lotto ticket. And for every answered prayer, there's a cricket with arthritis. And the only reason we can't find answers is because the search party didn't invite us, and Louis, right now the crickets have arthritis. So there is no music, no symphony of nature swelling to crescendos, as if ripping halos into melodies that can keep a rhythm with the way our hearts beat. So we must meet silence with the same level of noise that the parents of dying 9 year old boys make when they take liberties in talking with heaven. We must shout until we shatter in our own vibrations, then let our lives echo and grow, echo and grow, grow distant. Grow distant enough to know that as far as our efforts go, we don't always get a reply.

But I swear to whatever God I can find in the time I have left, I'm going to remember you kid. I'm going to tell your story as often as every story you told me. And every time I tell it I'll say, "See, there's bravery in this world. There's 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protesting death, but every breath we breathe has to be given back. A 9 year old boy taught me that." So hold your breath, the same way you'd hold a pen when writing Thank You letters on your skin to every tree that gave you that breath to hold. And then let it go, as if you understand something about getting old and having to give back. Let it go like a laugh attack in the middle of really good sex, the black eye will be worth it. Because what is your night worth without a story to tell? And why wield a word like worth if you've got nothing to sell?

People drop pennies down a wishing well, so the cost of a desire is equal to that of a thought. But if you've got expectations, expect others have bought your exact same dream for the price of a 'hard work, hang in, hold on' mentality. Like, I accept any challenge so challenge me. Like, I brought a knife to this gun fight, but the other night I mugged a mountain so bring that shit, I've had practise. Louis and I cracked this world wide open and found that the prize inside is we never lied to ourselves. Never told ourselves that we'd be easy or undemanding. So we sing in our own vibration, and dare angels to eavesdrop and stop midflight to pluck feathers from their wings and write demands that God's hands take the time to catch you. So, even if God doesn't, it wasn't because we didn't try.

I don't often believe in angels, but on the day I left Louis pulled a feather from his pillow and said, "This is for you." I half expected him to say, "See, this is the first one I grew."

Going a bit mad here

So no news on publishing front. It seems that my work is defo 'under consideration' but there are unforseen delays. My agent can't tell me more, and I can't tell you more either.

People, it's been 11 weeks since my thing was first sent out and while people are saying I have a bright future ahead of me and that I have an amazingly strong voice, fluid writing style, am a 'great writer' that I'm a real find etc - there are elements in play, obviously that I don't know about. Probably stuff like: yeah, but we can't sell a book like that OR oh another family saga? yawn OR Hmmm. This doesn't work so I can't sell it. Oh well.)

I am being calm and still and centred, as much as I can. But I've had a few dreams. In one, there was an email from my agent telling me this particular publisher who loves it had passed on it with regret. Another one where they made an offer and I couldn't get to a computer to read the email. Then other types of dreams, non booky ones but clearly anxiety dreams. In one, someone was wearing the exact same jacket I got in LA - a Calvin Klein orange puffy jacket, but so light, as light as air. I couldn't believe this person had my jacket. Otherwise I'm sleeping so well.

 

I'm also going a bit mad in other ways too. These flight benefits I've got at the moment are temporary and so 'to feel like I'm making the most of it' I've booked a trip to Hong Kong for me and Clokes next month for our anniversary and also a day trip for me to Brisbane to attend a writing workshop at the end of this month.

I'm walking every day and we have a new lead for the Gigi. I swear, she's 8 years old and has never walked well on a lead. I know now, because we got last pick of the litter, that she is the bad egg. She's a beautiful girl and lovely-natured and sociable; never shown any aggression BUT she is pig-headed and dominant and wants to walk out in front, thinking she is in charge. So I have one of those extendable/rectractable jobs which makes me feel like she's a fish on the end of my line and sometimes I have to reel her in, and sometimes I give her her head. It's working well. So P and me are walking every day and it's making me fitter and this, along with my stopping milk in coffee and 'avoiding wheat especially pasta' I am feeling really good and energetic.

Shit is happening overseas and at the moment, it's hard to filter it out, or filter it at all. Shit is happening here too. Tony Abbott is getting positive headlines to do with same-sex marriage? WTF is Gillard doing? Why oh why won't she go there? I don't get it. I bet personally she's okay with it. Good on NZ for doing it. I've said it before but really: NZ is the place to move to if things get too bad here.

And then the ANZAC thing is coming up again as it always does every year but this year it's making me sweaty in the armpits because I have a work in progress (my Turkish novel) that is concerned with Gallipoli and I'm thinking there'll be so many people trying to capitalise on next year being the 100 anniversary of the Gallipoli Campaign. I was there at ANZAC Cove for the 75th anniversary. I shook Bob and Hazel's hands (his: limp; hers: firm and friendly.) I feel I have so much material in my head, so many things I could write/can write but MAN it's hard to settle.

I need a list, and a plan. I have a new fascination with all things airline too. Did you know that on some of the Gulf State airlines you can take a falcon on board with you? As long as it's hooded, and tethered and only in Economy, you can travel with it on your arm. Limit of 6 per cabin though, on Qatar. This stuff is real in the world and it blows my mind.

 

Well, the news is still bad

but TGIF.

And while I'm here, check this out. I love it. I've been seeing photos around the traps of earth and her lights, eg Berlin below and how east and west still show a differentiation because they tend to use different light globes:

These pics are all credited to a Cmdr Hadfield. And now here's a clip of him - yes, he's an astronaut - doing an experiment for some school kids up in space. It's great and made me think that if I'd been a kid seeing this, it would have been one of the most fantastic things in my life. Maybe it still is.

What I worked out a few years ago

News is bad for you

TGIF

Oh, isn't it loverly? Melbourne's weather has been brilliant lately, those gorgeous rich tones of colour and the sun low in the sky when I go for my walks. Just beautiful.

Went to a launch last night, at Readings in Carlton. It was Krissy Kneen, she of the Furious Vaginas blog. This is her third book (I think) and I've read the other two, a memoir and then a trio of connected novellas. Her stuff is full-on, I suppose you'd call them pornographic, especially the last book Triptych. She writes beautifully though and with sincerity so there is nothing louche or lewd or lascivious; not negatively anyway. And she is really prolific, they seem to be published at a rate of one a year. Or more?

Just dropped P and her friend at a party. I'm tired, so I'll have a shower and go and read in bed. Wait for the text: Mum can you come and get us. Lucky they are only ten minutes away.

Happy weekend. Go Cats.

I'm back

It was great. I got to see and learn a lot and walked sooo much. Since getting back my blister has healed (heeled) and I've kept up my walking with P, and taking the Gigi too. I caught up with a friend yesterday who I hadn't seen for months - we were at risk of dissolving our friendship over a kerfuffle from last year and I'm glad it seems smoothed over. Maybe going to a book launch tonight - I think I should. Never been to one before and it's for a book I'd like to buy, by an author I'd like to meet/see, whose two other books I enjoyed reading.

I'm also planning some other trips, possibly HK with Clokes for our anniversaire next month and then also possibly something with Princess in September. Remember that ad: Tahiti looks nice? Anyone been to Tahiti? I don't think I've ever met anyone who has. We have a family trip to Bali in the middle of the year, it was already booked and paid for last year before this 'travel opportunity' came up.

The writing: hmmm. Still waiting to hear. There is one of the Big 6 publishers who 'loves it' and who had a 'really positive reader report' (whatever the fuck THAT really means) and wanted to pass it around others in the pub house to read. This means she will be championing the novel and hoping to garner support for it from the PR and marketing people, and whoever else, like other editors. This IS exciting, but after nine weeks of pulling at the skin around my nails and telling myself to be patient, calm and 'that it will all turn out, you'll see' it's getting a little old. Then there's a second publisher who my agent V gave the thing to only recently, by way of a second round. This person is from a large independent (all these publishers are Australian btw) and she was keen to read it and said she would be quick about it. Also my agent thought this person would love the ms. I haven't heard any response from that one (let's call her Second) and nothing more from the previous one (let's call her First). When I met my agent last week - which was a thrill and great - she told me she was expecting to hear from First that same week. Last week. We met on Tuesday. SO, nothing since but since nothing is not a NO, then nothing is OK.

The family were happy with the shopping I brought them. A billion shirts for Clokes, lots of sports stuff for our son (you know, baseball caps and basketball tops). Bags for the girls (I kind of failed at guessing what they'd like but the other day I sent mum home with a funky metallic backpack and little metallic bag on a long strap. She was pretty happy.) The girls took a backpack each and so I'm left with four. Two that I got for myself, and two that are leftovers. Maybe my niece would like one. Then I got lots of tops, and a pair of jeans for myself (I can't remember if I already wrote this.) Shoes. Books.

It's the second week of the holidays and I can't wait for next week when I get the house back to myself. I can't write like this, so I'm wasting too much time on the Internet, watching the Kardashians at night with Princess (AND Clokes, he likes Bruce Jenner. So do I actually) and managing to slowly tidy up after exploding back into the house on Saturday with my travel stuff. Also managing to slowly tidy up my study. I realise I have too much stuff and not enough space so it's become an out-of-control zone where work stuff competes with writing stuff and it's just a hideous mess. I'm out of control with book buying too. Some people have addictions, well I have a few and buying books is one of them. I suppose there are worse things.

The weather in Melbourne is gorgeous. All is well with the world. Life is good.

OK funsters

I am in Orange County, at a place called Costa Mesa or Cosa Mesta, I'm not sure which, I think the former. I'm on the hotel computer paying like FOURTEEN CENTS AND MINUTE FFS so have to be quick, even though I've checked email, facebook and twitter and you, my friends, all three of you, are next on the list.

So it's Monday. The flight was pretty ok but not business class, long story, but basically every fucker in Sydney decided to fly to Los Angeles. We got in, I decided not to go on my tacky Hollywood tour. I knew I'd be so tired and not just that, but after 4.5 hours of bussing around, prolly with my head asleep against the window and dribbling onto myself, then I had to meet P's friend for a walking tour and THEN have dinner.

As it turned out, I ditched the tour, went on the crew bus to the hotel. My bag was last out of the carousel thingy, fark. At least it arrived, the boy I was sitting next to, his didn't. P and I got to the bus - a tired crew including the 4 people who flew the plane - all sitting there patiently waiting for us. I found a seat next to a girl not wearing flight attendant gear - she was a pilot. SHE WAS A PILOT and we chatted for the bus ride. It was great to ask her questions like: Did you always want to be a pilot? and How do you become a pilot? I'm serious. As we pulled away the captain looked over and asked me if my bag had turned up. It's like they all knew about me and my sitch. On the plane, as we were flying through the night and my resolve to go on the tour started to dissolve, I had flight crew coming up to me and saying things like: So I hear you're getting little lukewarm on the tour, harden up! and So you're thinking not to do the tour, I thought that was ambitious myself.

We got to the hotel, settled in and then went and picked up a hire car at the John Wayne airport. Drove into LA and parked at the Concert Hall, the place where they used to have the Oscars, the Dorothy Chandler Centre which was where P was going to the Opera. Cinderella. It was funny watching him approaching overdressed LA women to see if they were scalping tickets. One woman said: I'm selling it because I don't like an empty seat next to me. ? She went from $200 to $100 to $50 in about 60 seconds.

So he went in and Scott and I went off on our tour. We saw buildings, we walked Broadway, we went to 4 places and had wine, beer, Prosecco and then finally a margherita. Hmmmm. Then P and I got the car and drove to Hollywood Boulevard and parked about three times, jumping out to see the stars, trying to find Marily. Saw everyone but. Saw Bette Davis twice within about 20 metres. Weird. Went to Grauman's Theatre and saw the handprints in the cement. It was great, I mean really. The traffic was light so we could drive and park, there were people out and about, walking, clubs, tacky souvenir stores etc.

Then we got on the freeway and drove home and I was so tired my eyes felt like they were underwater, with that shimmery almost passing out feeling. Like when they give you a general anaesthetic. Got back to the hotel and showered and almost went to sleep on top of the covers on my back. I never go to sleep on my back.

*

This morning up at 8, breakfast. Then drove to a shopping centre down towards Newport Beach, called Fashion Island. It's not an island, it's a very bland kind of sterile shopping centre. But they had a book shop and I stocked up, also got some other stuff. Then to Newport Beach, and to Balboa Island. This was trippy because it was so OC, and we had Balboa Bars and saw a frozen banana stand, not quite like the Bluth's one, and the weather was lovely. Then I drove back home, we returned the car to John Wayne airport and caught the shuttle back to our hotel. On it were two Southwest (or Northwest) pilots, can't remember but one had a leather bomber jacket and a normal tie and the other one had a FUCKING AMERICAN FLAG TIE. Anyway they were like fanboys talking to P about the A-380 and the one with the bomber jacket was saying how a Qantas pilot had shown him around one - All I wanted to see was the flight deck but he showed me everything! It's nice to see people obsessed with things.

We had a rest and then walked to a place near here called South Coast Shopping Plaza and I went mental in a place called Ross Dress for Less - designer gear and great stuff for really cheap. Then we went to an Italian restaurant and ate and drank ourselves silly - then walked home dragging these huge shopping bags.

We leave early for NYC tomorrow. I have packed all my shopping into a spare bag and will leave here. I have my business class outfit 'laid out' (oh, there are some stories about my footwear and blisters) and then tomorrow night, we will be in Brooklyn, oh yeah.

Got to go, so tired, and need sleep. Probably won't check in again until home.

My itinerary MEL-SYD-LAX-JFK-LAX-SYD-MEL

Sunday early morning we fly to Sydney. Unless something called 'loads' are light and this means connecting flights may be cancelled, if that happens we might fly to Sydney tomorrow night so we are already there and it's less stressful getting up there early in the morning.

Around 11 we fly Sydney to LAX. Arrive there, still Sunday morning around 6.30am.
I get picked up outside a hotel at the airport to go on the

LOS ANGELES CITY &
HOLLYWOOD BUS TOUR.

I bet it will be quite shouty but that's ok. I'll be EXCITED.

I am already excited.

Then I have to get dropped off in Hollywood and catch a train Downtown to meet Scott, who will take me on a walking tour of the Downtown area. Apparently this is old LA with some cool buildings. Meanwhile, my friend P is going to the Opera, a matinee that starts around 4pm. Before that, he will have taken both our bags to the hotel and slept (because he will have worked on the flight over - he's a hostie. I thought I explained all this to you. Keep up, jeez.)

Then P will come and meet me and Scott Downtown (not sure why it's capitalised) and we will probably have something to eat. He will have picked up our hire car already and so after that we drive back to the hotel which is is ORANGE COUNTY.

I love The OC, I would like to get a t-shirt for Princess cause she would enjoy that ironically.

Then the next day (so this is Monday) we drive to Newport Beach. Again, OC territory although I looked up and most of the location shots from the OC aren't in, er, OC. So I'm unlikely to see the pier that Seth and Ryan rode/skated down, or the lifesaver box that Marissa sulked in. Maybe Balboa Bars don't even exist...

OH FUCK THEY DO

This is more exciting than the Hollywood tour.

OK, so we shop. I look for shirts for Clokey, and some shoes for me. And t-shirts. And maybe a bag.

Then back to the hotel. That's Monday.

Tuesday - early wake up call like 5.30am, we go to airport, fly to NYC. We arrive at 5.10pm. I don't get the time, it's a 5-hour flight but we waste a whole day. Never mind. I meet the agent that night for a drink at a funky sounding beer and ale spot in Brooklyn. Not sure about dinner, it's a bit like a date... see how we go. Meanwhile P has GONE TO THE OPERA. AGAIN. This time it's Faustus at the Met. I really didn't want to go. We stay at the hotel in Brooklyn.

Wednesday - we get up early, have breakfast. Plan is to walk across Brooklyn Bridge, go to SoHo to where the High Line is, and walk along that. It's an old railway line, that's elevated, and has been turned into a park.

 
I will also try to have a hotdog as per m_m's recommendation and P wants to go to a poster shop. To buy a poster I guess.

We have a 3.15pm call to room and have to make a 6.30pm flight back to LA. We arrive back in LA at 9.30pm.

Thursday - we don't have any plans yet. Maybe shopping at the Mall thingy near the hotel. Thursday night we have a very late flight back to Sydney, then to Melbs.

So happy Easter everyone, and I hope to have some news when I get back. Some things seem to be moving a little...

A few things this week

I FUCKING LOVE SCIENCE facebook page is administered by one person and that person is a young woman. She has just started a twitter page, and this is what 'outed' her gender. Predictably, the flood of comments have been along the lines of 'Wow a chick, sexy' / 'You're a hottie!' / 'I can't believe you're a girl. And you are cute too!!!'

I know I was guilty of something similar myself a couple of years ago when Alex was commenting on another blog. A few of us thought she was a guy because she always talked about science and tech stuff and seemed really really smart (and she is) - her mentioning getting drunk and getting into fisticuffs when she was younger also I think cemented our ideas, it did mine, so that when it was revealed Alex is female, I was embarrassed and felt like a tool.

So I can understand that default thinking: guys are good at and talk about maths, science, technology. but it's changing, and this is fantastic. What's not changing are the comments - sexist comments - that are proliferating when something like this happens. It's a shame and it's disappointing and I wish it didn't happen. They are being challenged on twitter and facebook and even in the mainstream media but it just makes other young women out there [probably] think: Yeah, so why would I put myself out there, you cop this shit.



So instead of people focusing on this

Genetic testing of giant squid corpses discovered all over the world has found that not only are they all the same species, they have surprisingly low genetic diversity. This suggests that some time in the recent past they were pushed to the brink of extinction, but managed to rebound and are now found throughout the worlds oceans.

and this

it's all about this

Jake Woollard ‏@godswallop 11 Mar

@Elise_Andrew just discovered who you are and what you do :) Happy birthday! Q.question: how do you feel when ppl just assume you're a man?

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Elise Andrew ‏@Elise_Andrew 11 Mar

@godswallop It used to get to me, but it's happened so often I just laugh it off. People are more surprised when they find out I'm English!

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6:35 AM - 11 Mar 13 · Details

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1. Jake Woollard ‏@godswallop 11 Mar

   @Elise_Andrew now that I already guessed. Anyway, you do a really important job, and I just wanted to say thanks.

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2. Vee's Ramblings ‏@ramblingsofv 12 Mar

   @Elise_Andrew @godswallop Cause us English women know nothing of the sciences & should be good cottage pie makers?

and this

Elise Andrew ‏@Elise_Andrew 9h

EVERY COMMENT on that thread is about how shocking it is that I'm a woman! Is this really 2013?

*

Check IFLS facebook and twitter. Have a look at the difference in comments and responses, compare when she was on facebook as just a genderless sciencey person and now that she's on twitter with a pic and a name and a gender and all that comes with that. I'd love it if this turned out to be a science experiment, a la all this interest and news is generated, it puts the IFLS stream in the main, and then it's revealed that it's a nerdy dude whose thesis is on sexism in science or something like that. How awesome would that twist be? Somehow, I don't think that's what's happening. BUT IF IT WAS?

Oh PS, I also meant to say: I'm going to LA and New York on the Easter weekend. Just came up, all random and spontaneous, decided yesterday that yep, Imma going. Moved a few appointments, it's the first week of the school holidays so I wasn't teaching. It's a whirlwind 6-day trip, flying biz class which is a little bit excellent and spesh, and plan to walk the Highline in Soho and do some shopping in LA (and maybe one of those tacky Hollywood bus tours that drive past famous people's houses. I've always wanted to do that.) So yeah. I'm also going to meet my agent, so that's exciting too.

Reading material for the weekend

Yesterday I found this site, it's a collection of 150 great articles + essays across a range of topics. You can browse by topic or by author. It's terrific.

The Electric Typewriter

Also this took my fancy this morning, via The Art of Manliness. I haven't looked at the website properly but this collection of vintage photos that show male affection was interesting.

 Vintage male affection --- 'when real men hold hands'. This reminds me of a post I did a few years ago, about a photo of Geoffrey Rush and theatre man Neil Armfield holding hands during the preparation of the production Exit the King. I thought it was a lovely photo, really lovely, and challenges our cultural thinking about male-to-male affection.

Here's the pic again:



Have a great weekend.

WTF?

Just saw this link via facebook.

The media campaign against the Government revealed

This is unbelievable. I haven't read it all or closely but wanted to share ASAP.

Couple of Amanda Palmer vids for the long weekend

I see this blog sometimes as a depository for stuff I like and want to collect. That way I can keep all sorts of good things in the one place. So even though you might have seen this stuff like ages ago, I am holding it up by the corner and dropping it here.




And

 

And then if you're at all interested in seeing her TED Talk, well here that is too:

Because I want to push Ms Knightley off the top of the page

 


New genetic evidence suggests that the most recent male common ancestor of all men (down the male line) is twice as old as we thought. A DNA sample from a deceased African-American was recently submitted for genetic analysis. Astonishingly, his Y chromosome was found to be completely unlike any other that's been analyzed so far - so different that when it's included, his DNA pushes Y chromosome Adam back to 340,000 years ago. That is actually BEFORE anatomically modern humans evolved.

Taken from I Fucking Love Science

Anonymous comments

I've changed my settings to allow only people with google sign-in accounts to comment because I was getting spammed heaps which is simply a bore.

The other option was something like 'registered users including open-ID account' but I think that's for private blogs and I don't want this to be private.

SO, anyone who has trouble commenting (all five of you) let me know and I'll, I dunno, probably change it back. But the spam is getting worse.

*

Saw Anna Karenina tonight. Wow, the clothes; wow, the set. Wow, Keira's crooked teeth and strangely inflating upper lip (in one scene, it was almost disappeared; the second half of the movie, it was plumped). BUT we enjoyed it. I especially enjoyed the beautiful costumes and jewels:

And Levin, dear Levin:

Blog love

There are two new blogs that I've found in the last few months. Both are women, both are writers.

The first is AWineDark Sea, written by a woman called Sarah Toa. She lives somewhere in WA, not in Perth, not in Fremantle, but somewhere she describes as 'Down South'; and place beachy and boaty and fishy. Her photographs are beautiful and so is her prose. Her life seems fantastic, and I mean that in the true sense of the word: it seems ethereal and other-worldly to me, sitting here in the city on the south-east coast. She seems to be in some exotic locale, a place so far away as to be in another country, and in my mind she is. I LOVE how my imagination constructs such an 'over there' positioning for her, and it seems ye olde worlde too, with her tales of sea-faring and fishing and gruff, salted men who probably have beards and don't like to talk too much.

A WineDark Sea

The other one is also about location as well as words for me. Dianne Gray lives in another spot in this country that holds a lot of mystery for me. She lives in far north Queensland (I think) and at the moment has just received delivery of a 100-year-old Rugby Union Club building, to be fixed-up and made habitable on her home property. To see the photos of the house site, with sugar cane (I guess, it is so. This ignorant land-lubber/city-slicker doesn't really know) is, again, thrilling. Even though I have never met Dianne and I have never been there, it's a vicarious pleasure and it's deep and quite inexplicable really.

Dianne Gray

So, Mercury

I used to take notice of astrology stuff years ago, when I had crushes on people and wouldn't have minded having some sort of romance in my life. Also when things were difficult personally, with my marriage and the aftermath of that implosion. Also when my mum was sick in the early days, and Princess was little and every day I felt I was running a marathon. I would look at my star sign and look at other ones and how they combined, how they supposedly attracted and repelled. Once my life became better, I wasn't interested in astrology. Kind of how I see religion.

But the one thing I retain from those long-ago years was that when Mercury goes into retrograde, shit gets weird. And when I started 'feeling' things, for example not getting replies to emails from three different places where I expected a response, I thought:

I wonder if Mercury is in retrograde.

And google told me that yes it is.

So anything to do with things working, mechanically, technologically, communications, phones, emails, fax machines (if people still use those), negotiations - things slow right down, things don't work, things misfire, things get lost, things don't happen for whatever reason.

So I'm keeping this in mind as I reach for even more patience than my innately stoic nature gives me.

IT. WILL. ALL. BE. FINE.

But the funny thing is, I went to a few websites and of course all the start and end dates of the retrograde periods for 2013 were different which means that while we are in retrograde now there is not clarity about when it will end. Funny. Hilarious.

Quick update

About to go out for dinner with my writing group and we have two new members which is a bit exciting.

BUT in the meantime, here are some stats:

1. [removed material] which means people won't be able to follow the comments. Oh well.

2. Just worked out how to look at my WOS stats. There has been a mighty upward swing in page views:

2012
March - 1693
April - 1531
May - 1597
June - 1215
July - 1412
Aug - 1854
Sept - 2799
Oct - 5444
Nov - 5443
Dec - 6842

2013
Jan - 7342
Feb - 10,582

Hmmm.

3. I now have a daughter who has her Learner's Permit. So we are going to start driving on the weekend. This isn't really a stat. Oh well.

A productive day away from the Web

You know why it's called The Web. Because it's sticky and you can't help going there. All good little flies, comme moi, et peut-etre, comme toi*, manage to get entangled and spend about 80% of the daily work hours buzzing around, doing the Internet ablutions, over and over, before settling down like a bee (I know, I'm changing my metaphor). We settle on our flower, no matter what type, and do our business. But soon, we are aloft and flying, scanning again.

It's fucking annoying and pathetic and such a time-waster.

What I want to know is: What did people use to procrastinate before the Internet? Suggestions welcome.

So today, I went to my mamas. She was out. She doesn't have wifi. I still had Internet on my phone but I muted it - it usually is - and got down to it, man.

I worked solidly from 10am - 3pm. I raided mum's fridge at about 11.37am (don't you love that 'about' slipped in there?) and had left-overs and two large glasses of Buddha's tears tea. I did the following writerly tasks:

1. cleaned out all my superfluous folders to do with my next writing thing. I had duplications, I had irrelevant notes, I had lists and shit all over the place. My desktop is already a brothel, with damp towels lying everywhere and used condoms under the bed, and DD bras just HANGING OFF THE BACKS OF CHAIRS LIKE IN THE MOVIES. So you techie types will be pleased to know that my folder for Thing Two was cleaned up like the backyard after rain. Slashing and burning and whippersnippering all over the place. Filling my 'trash can' and emptying the fucker. So now all that is relevant to Thing 2 is IN THE ONE PLACE. This is quite a major achievement pour moi.

2. I went through my hand-written notes for Thing 3 (which after going through Thing 2, a far more advanced Thing, I realised Thing 3 might become Thing 2 chronologically. It's a much easier thing.)
I transcribed some text and notes for this project and became very excited about it all over again. This is something I haven't looked at for months because I've been focused elsewhere but it's a Thing that has come very easily and fluently and is quite the contemporary Thing (compared to the others, which in my mind - again, that cavernous, dark space - I conceptualise as more saga-ish) which I'm quite pleased with.

So, enough about me. What do you think about me?****

* Wondering why I'm using Franch***? I've had one wine.
** I lie, it's two.
*** Does anyone know to which movie character this refers? (In my own mind, quite possibly.)
**** Bonus point for person who picks this movie character.

There are only a few Leunigs that I recall with complete vividness. I have the original clipped but am happy to find it online.

(c) 1995, Michael Leunig 
Published at the time of the Demidenko/Darville literary scandal.

 

 

Getting the stench out of my nostrils

This is the most gorgeous feel-good material I've seen in a while. It reduced me to full tears, Not semi-, or demi- but the Full Denko (I wonder if anyone will get that reference. It's an oldie but a goodie. I'm leaving it as a weekend puzzle).

We all need to know what makes our Scared feel scared.

I usually don't 'do' politics [any more] but...

this article is the second in this week's mind-blowing series. While I've managed to ignite the amazement of bobby-pin wearing females with one revelation, let's unite in despair over the other embedded article within this article, which states that:

- drones are worse than measles
- 'extra-legal murder' exists as a term
- the allurism (?) of anti-American sentiment is behind anyone having a reaction to anything bad they do

The whole drone thing has gone over my head (!) because I haven't bothered informing myself about it. I probably won't read much more because it will make my head explode and today, that's not what I'm after. I'm after equilibrium and smoothness.

Hope everyone has a smooth day and even smoother weekend.

Doing it wrong my whole life

The ridgy side is MEANT TO GO AGAINST THE HEAD.

This is seriously the most mind-blowing moment I think I've ever experienced. I just can't believe it. I'm sure everyone has been doing it wrong.

What I am sick of and what I want more of

Sick of:

- cats (on twitter, everywhere). Really they're okay but they're not that good
- people talking about the Superbowel and Beyonce, though it is getting less. I wrote Superbowel on purpose
- people talking about the Baftas/Emmys/Golden Globes/Oscars
- Chrissie Swan and the smoking thing
- sprays about sexism
- celebrity chefs and their food
- people who are defined by their children and just want to bleat about it all the time, everywhere
- any and all comments on any and all article on The Age online
- The Age online  
- people and their Apple products
- people and their cheap alcohol, wanting me to drink it and not turn my nose up
- people who don't take out the recycling even when it's piled up so high in the kitchen it slides off onto the floor
- likewise people who don't seem to notice that walking on our carpet will mean you get strands of hair (yes, mine ok) kind of wrapped around your toes and that THIS means it's time to vacuum    


More of:
- photos of Brooklyn and New York in snow
- articles on the illuminati and Hollywood (just read a very interesting piece in The Paris Review on Stanley Kubrick's 'murder' four days after he delivered the final edits of Eyes Wide Shut to the something-or-rather). You can read it here.
- soba noodles
- sunny weather with a cool breeze but not too cool
- helvetica-type fonts
- GIRLS episodes
- Game of Thrones
- Chardonnay
- Vodka
- smoked salmon
- whole rainbow trout cooked in the oven with slices of lemon in the cavity and butter and diced garlic rubbed into the slashes you've made on one side of the skin with a sharp knife, probably the one you use for fruit is best
 

Okay, next thing on the technological list

Other people's blogs, the comments are tagged with a proper time and date stamp. Mine just have the time, it would be nice to have the year as well.

Suggestions anyone?

Blog update

I have just worked out how to get my 'older posts' button at the bottom of the page, had to insert some code but SOMEHOW in the process, I've managed to make everything centrally justified.

I can't stand it. I'm sure my labels down the RHS were left justified. Am I going crazy?

I think part of the problem is I'm still using the 'classic template' cause I was too chicken to do the changeover to the new way. That's me in a nutshell, too scared of the New Way.

If any bright sparks can help me I'd appreciate it (Alex, we both know that's you.) It's not crucial and maybe it will just go back to normal tomorrow, because I know these things we call machines are actually alive and have their own fucking wills.

Don't get me wrong. I am very happy about the 'older posts' button. It was gone for yonks.

Goodnight.

All is well

Hello. I thought while we waited for more news I would talk about television.

We started watching MasterChef Professionals and really, after the first episode I only watched for Clokes. He likes to have something to watch with me and because we are up to date with Game of Thrones, and our other shows aren't back on yet (Australian Idol, the real Masterchef, Big Brother, I know, I know, how DÉCLASSÉ), I sat through another couple of episodes.

But enough. No more MChef Prof and probably no more Masterchef period. I think I'll give Idol a miss too as it waned for me last time (no Nut Man made it an empty viewing experience) but I will defo watch BB again. I seriously missed it when it stopped, I missed the people, especially this fucking hunk of fucking spunk (sorry):

It had been a while since I had such a crush. It wasn't romantic, not really. It was more I coveted his hair, I loved his [carefully crafted?] unselfconscious demeanour, his humour. I loved the way he said he'd always had trouble getting girls, never getting the girl he liked, how he struggled socially, yet there he was, with millions of us loving him/wanting to get into his pants/be his friend, as well as everyone on the show loving him/wanting to get into his pants/be his friend. He would parade his chubby white body around the place, wearing funny jogging shorts, no top (like evah), thick, white tennis headbands. It was a form of extremely endearing peacocking (see The Game: Neil Strauss) and there is something about a non-conventional person peacocking and either truly not giving a fuck or being very good at the appearance of not giving a fuck.

There will never be another Michael.

Princess and I have started new season of True Blood but we are both disappointed. It's been quite crushing really, so much so that we haven't really talked about it. We got about three episodes in, and I said 'I don't think I'll watch any more but you go ahead' and I think she was so disappointed that I'd bailed, but also feeling it too (or not feeling it.) So it's like something that's between us that's unspoken - eventually I guess we'll get it out, dust it off and talk about it. We finished new season of Dexter and again, while we finished it, every episode she was saying 'It's not the same, he's not the same Dexter. He's not doing his rituals, he's not following his code. He's not doing the kill room and the photos and THEY'RE NOT NAKED ANY MORE! And he's getting involved with her. It's not right, mum!' and I'd say 'Well, it's season (7, 8 can't remember, whatever the most recent is) and they're going to finish it, I can feel it. he's the main protagonist, he has to transform and develop as a character, he HAS to. Even if he is a serial killer,' and she'd go 'I know, but I miss the old Dexter, remember the inner-voice narration he'd do? And the humour?? THERE'S NO HUMOUR ANY MORE' and I'd say 'calm down, darling. I know you're disappointed but it's just what they have to do,' and she'd say 'Well I don't like it. I'm going to watch Season 2 again. It's my favourite season' and I'd say 'okay darling, I'm going to do some work.'

Princess and I are watching GIRLS. We watched the first season over a couple of days. They're only half hour eps and you just blink and they're finished. LOVED IT. Now we get each episode per week and it's almost not worth it because you just haven't got that momentum. We love momentum, the kind that you get after three hours on our red velvet couch. It's a special type. But yeah. GIRLS is good.

So, guess what we are doing, during our GIRLS-free time, our MChef Professionals-free time.

We are watching Seinfeld. Again. From the beginning. And you know, there's nothing like it. I laugh out loud every episode, more than once. It's fucking brilliant tv and just like there'll never be another BB Michael, there'll never be another Seinfeld either, and that's fine because we've still got it and can watch whenever we like. I'll be 80 and watching Seinfeld again. From the beginning.

PS I probably should tell you, all signed up with the agent, all full steam ahead. Will bring news when I can.