I am, very slowly, making my way through the styles on this site, fixing things up. But it's a bit annoying because Movable Type really does suck these days. I'm looking at moving over to something else (Wordpress perhaps?) but I don't really think that's going to happen any time soon. There's too much backing up and installing and so on involved. Plus I'd have to start again from scratch with the CSS. Argh.
So apologies for the obvious wonkiness and the continuing fiddling.
Yesterday we did the first coat of paint on the ceiling of the lounge room. We sucked. But we have had the floors done and they look GREAT. These dumplings are from New Shanghai Something or other, and they are great. I had red rice and chicken, though. And we both had choy. Click through to this pic to see more photos of our floor, and then to see the painting we did today.
We did the first coat on the walls in the lounge room today. It looks terrible; we will definitely need a second coat. But then we did the ceilings upstairs and did a MUCH better job. So we figure we're on some sort of long, slow learning curve.
We are so tired.
On the ride home, we stopped in Summer Hill to get some food for dinner. A middle aged man with short cut hair (gauge 2 maybe), dark, fashionable glasses, some sort of red shirt, driving a small red convertible alpha romeo, rego starting with V nearly hit me. Because he was trying to do a u-turn down the main drag of Summer Hill at peak hour. When I stopped and pointed at my eyes (as in 'look'), because his window was up, he opened his car door and yelled, "DON'T YOU LECTURE ME!" and then "GET OFF THE ROAD!" Ironically, I was just about to pull over and off the road. Then he did a really bad 3-point u-turn and drove off.
There were about a million people in the street and (once again) nobody said anything. He was clearly in the wrong and I was a bit shaken. He was the most dangerous of urban animals: a middle class, middle aged man in a car, embarrassed and then angry. They are the scariest creatures in the entire world. Also, they are fucking arseholes. But I was polite and just rode away. At first we thought he was trying to turn around to come after us. But he wasn't. He was nuts.
Is it driving a car that makes people crazy? Or do they start that way? My feeling is that driving a car makes you crazy. Cyclists tend to be rocking their endorphines (unless they're arseholes), but driving a car immediately makes you a) dumber, b) aggressive, c) angry. Motorists tend to think that they're invulnerable when they're in their car. That their car's bubble makes them immune to everything.
When I'm on my bike, I'm intensely connected to and aware of what's around me. So I'm very, very aware of cars and bikes and pedestrians. And I'm also a much safer driver since I started riding a bike.
If you drive a car, please, please PLEASE check your blind spot a million times before you open your door and before you pull out. And then check again. Because you could kill a person on a bike.
I am nuts for the idea of these tiles atm. They are made of terracotta and they're hexagonal. Click the linky if you want to read more.
I have also started thinking about door handles.
I've never even considered these things before. And we have had to get some housey type things in a hurry. Choosing paint was rushed (but really, there's no choice beyond 'classic white' for a small flat that has dark bits). I could perhaps have chosen a stain for the buttery yellow, knotty pine wood floors we've just had done in a clear satin water based finish.
I am still humming and hawing over painting the woodwork white. I'd like to get this shit done before we move in. But then, I should probably go slow on this stuff so I don't screw things up.
We will also need to get a glazier in to fix a stupidly 'mended' window. And I need to get the dodgy painters in to do one room (the hall over the stairs - the ceiling is >5m and it's over the _stairs_.)
After a while, we'll redo the bathroom (which is really quite important) and then the kitchen (which is less important, but assumed greater importance when we discovered a leak this week).
And then I want to get the space under the stairs made into cupboards or large, pull out drawers. And I want to open out the 'wall' which edges the stair case into think palings or even just leaving it open (and dangerous!). And we will really need some built in bookshelves in the lounge room (we'll cover an entire wall with them).
I like the thought of doing all this stuff. We are doing the painting ourselves, though we got a dood in to finish the floors (I'll let you know what sort of job he did. He's very nice, but you never can tell.) We'll get a plumber to do the plumbing stuff, and a proper tiler to tile because those are jobs you don't want to have to live with if you fuck up. But we've discovered we quite like doing this renovation stuff. The Squeeze is concerned he'll like it too much and we'll be renovating everything, forever.
So, in order of priority, I should be thinking about:
- the woodwork round the doors, etc
- getting all the locks changed, including the window locks. Years as a rental property mean that there are definitely dozens of copies of the keys floating about. So we need new ones.
- the bathroom. I have no idea on this one. We have a good iron bath and a decent toilet bowl, but we need to rip out the shitty shower unit ASAP and the vanity is screwed. It's a tiny room, and very poorly laid out, so we'll need to really think carefully about how we do it. I'd like to keep the bath as it's in very good nick, and I had thought about putting the shower over the bath, but that's not always a good idea, and not great for re-sale. We'll need lots of new tiles and possibly need the ceiling sorted as it does open out into the attic space under the roof. Nice and bright but also DIRTY.
- the kitchen. It needs redoing entirely.
- the built in bookshelves and other assorted fitting and joining and random acts of carpentry. I need a good cabinet maker, I think.
Here are some pics from our new flat. I'll try to write about this process properly. Probably won't be any time soon, though.
The other day I was reminding myself that the Les Red Hot Reedwarmers are French - from France - when I suddenly realised:
Holy Shit! This band is FRENCH. So they're not the The Les Red Hot Reedwarmers, a Jimmie Noone tribute band led by Les(lie) Red! They're Les Red Hot Reedwarmers, as in The Red Hot Reedwarmers.
It was a freeking revelation. And yet... also a little disappointing.
Btw, if you don't have this band's albums and you like Jimmie Noone or early 30s NO-inspired Chicago action, then you're ON CRACK. Their CDs are really, really good.
Since installing the new MT I've had some heinous comment problems. I'm investigating... well, I will investigate a spam solution. So bear with me if your comment doesn't appear. I usually read them when they arrive in my email inbox, even if I fail to approve them.
Sorry. And thanks for commenting anyway. :D
...because I feel no shame, and publish every entry I begin. For which I apologise.
I was just thinking: why do I alway recognise an Ellington song? Is it the arrangements or the soloists? Ellington's band carefully showcased each soloist with personally tailored and arranged solos/parts for specific people. So I guess it's a combination: parts and whole.
Then I was thinking about my obsession with various jazz pianists. I thought I might do a post with little bios and pics of each one. Then I got distracted. But here are some I love:
Willie 'the Lion' Smith. Wasn't a big band leader, but did a zillion songs with a zillion bands. One of my favourites is a song called '4,5, and 9' with Leadbelly in 1946 from a CD my mum bought me at the Smithsonian in Washington. It's (the song, not the Smithsonian) fairly sparse - piano, guitar, harmonica, male vocals. It has a rolling, rollicking rhythm that makes me want to roll and rolllick around the house. You can't lindy hop to it. You can only roll or rollick.
Fats Waller Duh. Was a band leader. Died younger than we'd like, but not surprising considering his lifestyle. His band was famously loyal and stayed with him for a very long time. He began his career with bands like the McKinney Cotton Pickers in New York. I love his light, tinkly playing, his chunky left hand rhythms and his lovely lyrics. I love the combination of light-hearted humour and melancholy.
Mary Lou Williams You tend to find women in jazz bands at the piano or behind the microphone, mostly because they were considered 'ladylike' musical pursuits. No tubas here. Williams was in Andy Kirk's band, and was important not only because she could play like a demon, but also because she was a badass arranger. She didn't sing (that I know).
There are plenty more, but these are the ones I'm currently interested in.
I was going to write something else about something else, but I've forgotten what it was.
Oh, that's right. I've been playing Flight Control on The Squeeze's ipod touch. I've been getting quite high scores. I don't like any of the other games. I don't play computer games at all, usually.
I was hardcore into sourdough recently, but my interest has waned. I am now interested in ... well, nothing much else, food-wise.
On other fronts, I've been doing an awful lot of reading about jazz, jazz history and jazz studies. Soon my brain will blow up. I think I'm procrastinating about another book I have to read and review for a journal. I'd better get onto that one quick-smart. But I just can't be arsed - I know how it'll end, it's not hugely well written, and while the content is very interesting, I just can't stick with it.
My foot has been much, much better. But yesterday and today it was a bit sore. Podiatrist in about a week for an update, and a verdict on whether or not there'll be dancing again in my future, ever. Let's cross our fingers, shall we?
There is a cafe on the main drag of Newtown called Funky which made me a freaking wonderful prawn raviolli the other night. It was home made pasta, in large sheets, folded around some perfectly prepared prawns, in a light, fresh tomato, tiny-bit-of-cream and smidge-of-butter sauce. It was simple and perfect. I was amazed. The manager is a lovey and always seats me carefully when I come in on my own every other Friday evening for a quick before-DJing dinner. It is a delight to eat there. Especially as the cafes on that strip can suck bums. But it's really too nice to be called a cafe. And on the last few Fridays they've had a small, very excellent latin combo playing in their tiny restaurant. They had a double bass, guitar, bongos, vocals and ... something else last Friday. They were so good I wished I could dance salsa. I didn't even feel I needed to read my book, they were so nice to watch and listen to. And I do like a quiet sit-and-read on my own over a nice meal in a restaurant. I know it's not cool, but it's one of my greatest pleasures - eating alone in a restaurant.
That's all I've got for now, I'm afraid.
I'm having problems with comments again. We are just about to start moving this site over to Wordpress and away from MT, so that might fix these troubles.
Meanwhile, I'll get the Support guy to check it out and see what I can do.
In the meantime, how's about checking out the Yehoodi radio tribute to Frankie Manning - the very best swinging jazz.
You know I love you,
X O X O
EDIT: It's fixed.
But who the fuck cares about muffin tops, and also, what the fuck IS a muffin top?
This is the sort of fucked up shit I hate about the internet, women's magazines and what I remember of high school (I'm trying to contract pattern-amnesia). JESUS CHRIST, sisters, just put on your goddamn clothes and get on your goddamn bike and FEEL THE ENDORPHINES! Then you don't give one motherfucking shit about whether you're... what? Alive? Having flesh upon your bones? Bringin' the bounty, as what badass feministahs do?
The more time you spend worrying about whether or not you're looking just some imaginary man would like you to look (or, more likely, looking the way some other woman with Issues is telling you you should look), the less time you can spend planning your next bike ride/website redesign/photography outing/sewing binge/crocheting craze/cooking fest/jazz routine/DJ set! I mean, come on - there aren't really that many hours in the day - prioritise, people!
I can't believe I followed that link. I can't believe I read it! It's a good thing there're lolcats in the world.
Shoulda posted this earlier, I guess.
I'd really like to redesign this site. It's been ages since I gave it a new style sheet - years. I have no idea what's cool in the css world these days, so I guess I'd better have a look.
I actually use my 'blogroll' all the time, so that should probably be further up. I could ditch a lot of that other stuff in the side bar, though. Maybe drop menus for the categories - or is that _so_ four years ago? Are we all into clouds? I'm not sure I like the messiness of clouds.
I think I want the sidebar on the right. That's where everyone else has it these days.
I might make it so that more entries are displayed on the first page, and then do the 'older' link at the bottom, so people can navigate backwards through time, a chunk of entries at a time. That's how I like to navigate people's blogs.
There are quite a few spacing issues that need fixing - some proportions need tidying up. I think I'm ready to go border free. Completely border free. Kind of a big step for someone as ob-con as myself; I like the order of boxes.
Most of all, I need to remember to do all this styling on the laptop, not on the imac. The imac has a fully sick screen, and the laptop is smaller and squashier. Using winblows? Well, I won't be taking your needs into account. This will be firefox/safari friendly only.
We have comments! Hurrah for The Squeeze and his cleverness.
I can't figure out what I've done with the comments. They're busted. I think this blog needs an overhaul, anyway - it's been ages since I did the templates. Probably also need to update to new MT. Or new blogging tool.
News:
- We are biking tourista grande! We are riding our bikes everywhere. I am trying to find a nice way of putting them on a map. Bikely isn't very helpful (it has a craptastic site). Am considering special cycling blog. Nerdy enough? NO! But we have discovered some lovely river-side bike paths (Cooks River) and some sneaky off-road shady tree lined bike paths (somewhere in... Petersham? Parallel to... Hewson Canal ?). We have also decided we don't like riding through stupid Darling Harbour (well, across that bridge - the Piermont? - it sucks) because not only are pedestrians dumb, but tourist pedestrians are stupidly dumb. I am also having brought home to me just how un-bike-aware Sydney drivers are. It's like they freak out when they see a cyclist - they swing out really wiiiiide to get around us. Or they crawl along behind us. Melbourne motorists have mad cyclist-aware-skills. Also, Sydney drivers pull up at traffic lights at the very last minute. This is terrifying if you're just in front of them, pulled up with one leg down, waiting for the lights to change (but also makes the point: do NOT hug the curb at lights - TAKE THE ENTIRE LANE).
If you'd like to come bike riding with us, drop me a line. I am very unfit atm, so we go slow. Especially on hills. We have taken many friends for their first-in-10-years bike rides. They've liked it. We're kind and are quite happy just to poodle along, chatting and sticky beaking.
We also avoid busy roads and we like to explore and 'just have a look'. We like a combination of urban streets (lots of windows to look in) and leafy bits. We've been surprised by how leafy Sydney is, and how many nice, quiet streets there are right here in the inner suburbs. There are also some really great bike paths. Even the city (on a Sunday) isn't so scary. Though I don't ride on the actual road.
We also like to stop regularly for cake.
- It was recently very hot here in Sydney. But now it is only quite warm and incredibly humid. It's been drizzling all afternoon. That's good, because we rode to Bunnings in Ashfield today (via Harbourfield) and bought plants. When we got to Bunnings we were (once again) shitted off by its shitfulness: no bike loops (well, duh - it's like _the_ most car-centric place ever... after Ikea), inept staff, etc etc. But we bought plants. A grevillea and some sort of native climber (whose name I can't remember). I wanted Telopea and Protea, but they are fuck-off expensive (as in $50 for small pots). So we said "fuck off!" and got the common-as-muck moonlight grevillea and cheapy native climber. Then we rode home. It was so hot. It was overcast, but I got burnt badly. Because I am a dickwit.
When we got home we rested. Then we cleaned our house. Then we planted the plants. I actually supervised (because I am still injured - and will be for at least another couple of months, if not forever (the future isn't looking too good for my poor foot injury, but I don't want to talk about that because it makes me cry. A future without dancing will do that.) The Squeeze dug. In the light rain. He was sweating more than it was raining because it's so warm. The holes are great, though. And the dirt drains nicely. Anyways, we planted those suckers.
Now we need another grevillea. I did see something I liked: some sort of grevillea (or was it a narrow-leafed banksia?) which had dark purpley/marooney leaves. It was neat. I was thinking a couple of those with a bunch of knee-high purple grasses (which were just near by) would be wonderful. But I can never go past the grevillea. And I wasn't sure the purple one flowered - it didn't have a very useful tag. I did want to get something indigenous to this area, but, frankly, we're a bit short of accessible nurseries here. You have to have a car to really get sweet lowdown. I am going to check out the Marrickville markets some weekend soon - I need a cheaper source of plants. And I also want to stay away from the Bunnings type plants. I want something that's not force-grown in big green houses or big plantings. I want tough plants grown in some poppa's back yard in cheap pots. Something street-wise and rough.
Anyways, I'm going to get those natives happening down the front, in front of the main bedroom windows. The climber will climb up the railing on the front steps (but I'll clip it to stop it getting onto the top rail). I'd really like to plant up the grass down there with some taller native grasses, but I don't think our land lord would like that. I'm also thinking about veggies and herbs again. I just can't live without my herb garden any longer. And this weather is so plant-perfect. We'll see.
- Today we saw something awesome. As we were digging in the garden (well, The Squeeze was the one actually digging - I was standing under an umbrella in his crocs supervising and carrying the watering can) a bunch of rowdy cockatoos landed on the facade of the olden days flats on the opposite corner. There were about six or eight of them and they were obviously feeling their oats. Feeling all charged up by the cool and wet (after a little research, I've discovered they like to flap about in the rain to bathe themselves). They clambered about on the front of the building shouting for a while. Then they flew over to the olden days garage on the other corner. That's when things got good. They're such big, flamboyant birds. All yellow combs and huge white wings. They were very loud and social and clambered about all over the place, using their beaks and claws to get about. They were also digging about in the cracks of the buildings and the power pole. They spent some time pulling the power pole to bits (literally - they pulled great chunks off the top and threw them on the road) and shouting. Then they started pulling bits off the garage's facade.
They started just digging in the cracks and pulling off bits of plaster. Then they started pulling bricks out of the facade. Real bricks. The big chunks of masonry and plaster and brick fell down with big crashes and the cockatoos shouted and laughed and called across to each other. They were spread out all over the facade and the power lines and power poles, upside down, ride side up, combs up, wings out. It was awesome. Eventually the guy in the flat above the garage stuck his head out the window to see what was going on. The cockatoos kind of sneered and shouted at him and carried on. Until one pulled a massive brick out of the wall and nearly dropped it on another who was trying to pull the window awning off. Then they got a scare and had a shout at each other, then flapped up to the power pole. And then down the street. It was like a rowdy bunch of... large, rowdy birds... were moving their way down the street, shouting and talking and pulling shit to bits. It was fully sick. I didn't think to take a photo til far too late. So just take my word for it, ok?
It's nice to live in a city with lots of native trees and plants, and, consequently, lots of native birds. Unlike noxious-weed-Melbourne, which is chock full of stupid introduced plants.
- Today we rode up the bike route to a little cafe in Dulwich Hill. It was full of skanky yuppies. The food was ok. Then we decided to ride on to the Bunnings in Ashfield via Harbourfield. I got burnt. We both got freakin' hot. We rode back from Ashfied. We are badarse.
Yesterday we went in on the train to Town Hall station to collect The Squeeze's bike from his office. Then we rode across Piermont Bridge, down the side of Darling Harbour. We spent some time looking at a ship. That was neat, but not as neat as the books in Piratica. They're the best because they're pirate ships. Captained by women.
Then we rode along the beach, looking at yuppy warehouses flats. They were boring. We rode past the park where they were having Jazz On The River. The grass was all brown, crackly sticks.
Then we rode on to the Fish Market. The market was hot and crowded and The Squeeze didn't like it. So I foraged some sushimi, prawns and octopus. Then we rode on.
We were pretty freakin' hot by then, and I was feeling weak, so we caught the light rail (which is just like a kind of piss-weak tram, but with REAL conductors (so you have to buy tickets) and which you can TAKE YOUR BIKES ON !!1!). That was a nice, short trip to Lillyfield.
From Lilyfield station we rode up the hill across Paramatta Road, then up a little hill and taking a right turn at a little cafe (which was called something like Lily and Somebody or something. It had its name written in white in 'American Typewriter' font on the window and was closed). Then we rode along the bike lanes to an old building which looked a bit like an old train station or some sort of feed station (a sort of Victorian loading or despatch dock).
Then we kept on riding along the ridge til we got to... um... a park.
Then we turned left on a road which had no cars at all.
Then we... rode a bit. Then we went down the Hewson Canal bike path, which is very nice and shady, but made me think 'don't ride here by yourself ever, ladies.' We saw no one on that very nice bike path but three tiny little girls with bright white hair and one giant, bald dad.
Then we rode on and up til we got to the road that goes under a bridge - the end of Marion Street (which I think of as the road near the corner where I nearly stacked it on our first Big Ride).
Then we continued on and got onto another bike path past a giant dog park with about a squillion dogs roaming about.
Then we rode on to the bike path that runs along the canal that goes into the ocean.
Then we rode on. I can't remember what happened there, but we ended up coming out on Old Canterbury Road at that weird stop sign. Then up Old Canterbury Road to Dulwich Hill. I was especially badarse on that last bit.
Basically, I am badarse because I'm not scared of hills any more. The Squeeze is badarse because he rides his one-gear bike very slowly, just behind me (but not too close or he gets yelled at). Going slow is harder than going fast.
Yesterday, as we prepared for my pap smear (yes, I am blogging about this - brace yourselves, boys), the doctor asked about my aunt who had cervical cancer: "Did she survive?" I had to think a minute. Yes, she is alive. Survive? Hm. I think that she's a different person, now, and that having cancer (cervical cancer) is something that changes you. So no, I don't think she's the same person she was, so perhaps she didn't survive if by survive you mean 'stayed the same' or 'continued as she was'.
I'm always surprised by how unwilling the women I know are to talk about pap smears. They'll talk about it together, in groups, but with men... not so much. Are men so delicate that they need protecting from the idea that they are not the only ones with access to a woman's cervix? It's not even a particularly urky process. From my end, it's all 'knees up' and then some business at the nerve-ending free part of my insides. I don't see anything (though I guess I could - should I have asked for a mirror?), it's painless (though kind of unusual-feeling), it's quick. Frankly, the syringing of my ears is far more disturbing, what with the rushing of water in my ears, the giant inserting-injecting thing, the dislodged wax, the discoloured water... And we go about with our ears just sitting there on our heads, open and exposed.
I'm also surprised when women haven't heard of the 'fists under hips' technique which helps make the whole process a lot less uncomfortable. A friend told me a few years ago, and it's changed my pap smearing life. Basically, if you tilt your pelvis up (by propping it up, either with your fists under your buttocks, or with a pillow), it's much easier for the doctor to see your cervix. Because, basically, a pap smear involves the doctor having a look deep, deep inside you at your cervix (mine is quite lovely, apparently. I felt a moment of pride for my perfect cervix, there with my fists under my bum, my undies on a chair beside me and a strange woman with a cue-tip saying hello to my ovaries). And when you're that deep inside someone, you need some light so you can see what you're doing, and you really like a nice, clear path to your destination. You want to be able to look the cervix right in the eye before you brush it or swab it or whatever it is you're planning on doing in there.
At any rate, tilting your pelvis up with fists or cushions makes this whole process easier. I was surprised my doctor didn't know the trick, or own one of those special pelvis-tipping cushions. [Speaking (in a brief side point) of pelvis-tipping cushions, did anyone else notice George Clooney's purple velour one in Burn After Reading? Magic. That's a man not only with an eye for ambitious machinery, but also the finer details.] But I made sure she knew just how useful the technique is.
The strangest part of a pap smear is always the thought that there's someone right inside your body. I always think of that when they're examining my ovaries from the inside. It's strange to think that someone's hand is so deep inside you. This is serious business. Part of me always wonders what my ovaries feel like. I mean, I feel them inside me, sometimes, but we're not on a first name basis. And it's not as though I feel I have a gaping hole or emptiness inside me. But suddenly, there's room inside me for someone's hand.
And then, of course, five minutes later you're back in your clothes, on the bus and on your way to the fabric shop. And no one knows from looking at you.
Anyways, I guess the point of this post is to encourage women to get pap smears. And to encourage men not to be afraid of the topic. It's a bit weird and it can be uncomfortable, but it's better than the anxiety of wondering if you have cancer. It's better than not knowing that you're capable of dealing with your body and knowing your body from the inside out (if only via a doctor's flashlight and observation). And there are tricks for making it more comfortable. Not just the pelvis tilting thing.
There are doctors who have mad skills - I always pay them a visit for something minor before I invest in a pap smear with a new doctor. I like to see how they look at me. I choose something that requires physical contact. My ears always need looking in. Sometimes I need my glands checked or my throat peered into. Whatever it is, I pay attention to the way they touch me and the way they talk to me. I like a doctor who's reassuring, who listens, but who's not alarmist and isn't prepared to let me push them around. I like them to take time and to explain things and to make me laugh sometimes.
Not that I need to laugh when I'm having a pap smear, but it's nice to know that someone's paying attention and is gentle and is confident when they're elbow deep in you.
And it's nice to know that your cervix is lovely.
(I think this post was inspired by Stephanie's, mostly because I think her writing about breast cancer is important. I've been thinking about these things lately (because it was this time a few years ago my mother was very, very ill in hospital) and I've been wondering why I can talk about my stupid ears but not my lovely cervix).
I have had some serious problems with spamming lately, so disabled the comments functions on this blog. But I've just changed this so people can comment, they just have to wait til I approve the comment.
I'd have a look for an alternative method, but I don't have time, sorry. :D
and no energy even for made up jobs. It's 11.13 and I've been up for hours already. The less I have to do, the earlier I get up so the more time I can spend sitting (or wandering) about, staring aimlessly into space or blindly tapping my way through the internet. I keep thinking 'it's cooler - go out and take advantage of it' but I have no motivation.
I really don't have anything to do. Well, I have a book review to do - but it's not due til March. I haven't read the book, but I've begun it and pretty much know how it'll turn out. I have thought about making a conference paper into a journal article, but I lack inspiration. Or motivation. The thesis needs to become a book, quite soon, but you know what? I just can't be arsed. Sewing? Hm, whatever. Fiddling with my music? Nah. The garden is weeded and mulched and happy on its own. The house isn't too dirty.
Smells like post-holiday dumps.
We had a very nice time in Hobart. Nice weather (mostly), nice visit, nice festivus. We have to go up to Brisvegas for a funeral this week, which won't be nice, but hopefully it'll be ok. I haven't been back in seven years. I'm not really looking forward to it. As The Squeeze says, We Don't Go Back.
I have no plans for this year. I do have some sessional teaching lined up, possibly some lecturing, but I lack enthusiasm.
I have been doing some serious long stitching lately. Is that what it's called? Where you do looong stitches across the canvas. Feels like cheating to me. I'm a tapestry person (when I can be arsed with canvas work), and all those long stitches feel like cheating. There are a couple of fancier knots and things, but still. We've been watching Hornblower DVDs compulsively since christmas. Dad, The Squeeze and I would take over the lounge room and giant telly and watch them in Hobart. We brought them home with us and lay on the couch watching a welshy annunciate his way through the Napoleonic wars through that latest hot spell. We have a bunch of Sharpes to get us through this weekend's heat.
I've also been watching some other DVDs. Got Shameless season 1 from The Squeeze, and it's great. All watched, though. Good thing there are four seasons (I think). Have also made my way through three Spike Lee films lately - Clockers, Do The Right Thing and Jungle Fever. Clockers was the only one I hadn't seen, and it was ok. Bit preachy, really. I know that's Lee's thing, but I prefer the sermon cloaked with a little story telling. There were some nice wanky narrative tipups in there, but not all that amazing, really. But I do like Lee's fillums. Crooklyn is my favourite, though. Of course. Though I quite liked Summer of Sam.
We saw Darjeeling Limited at the Kino this week. It was neat. I love that man's fillums. I love them very much. We also saw The Golden Compass in Hobart. It was neat. We have plans to see I Am Legend, but I am suspecting some serious crap. That actor sucks bums and I bet there are some failures to explain basic historical and practical points. Electricity? Rotting bodies? A man who has to explore and hunt through a city using a treadmill to keep fit? Excuse me, mate, but subsistence living will strip the pounds from you to the point where you'll be too busy for moping about on a treadmill. Is anyone else thinking Z For Zacharia here?
Speaking of which, what was it with all those fucking horrible post-apocalyptic, WWII, holocaust books we read at school? As a keen reader I was either thoroughly bored or thoroughly traumatised by the crap we read at school. Why not a nice, encouraging book about happy things? Maybe they figured all we northern suburb, working class public school types needed a bit of buck-up-man-ship.
Ok, so back to me and my malaise. Is malaise the right word? I feel slothful. Lazy. Unproductive. Apathetic. Guilty for having nothing to do. No serious work on the horizon. And any way, what should I research now? What should I write about? I really can't think of anything. It's like I've used up all my creativity with that PhD. I guess I'm looking forward to teaching - I always learn a lot and get all inspired and creative with my teaching. Pity it doesn't leave me enough time to write anything. Guess I'd better get over that quick smart, though.
I am a miserable old poo. Guess I should get out and get some exercise. Give myself a bit of a happy endorphine injection. Bah humbug.
I've noticed that I'm not the only one who's been MIA from blogdom of late. I blame faceplant. Oh, faceplant, how I thought you'd be really neat. Then I realised there was nowhere for long, detailed explanations of sewing projects or theses or DJing and decided that faceplant really was just one big multi-levelled marketing campaign and got bored.
So I've noticed that all the other blogs I like to read have been a bit quiet lately. I know it's a nasty time of semester (week 8 for us, mid-semester next week, a bit later for everyone else) but, you know. So I was thinking: imagine if I could could pyrateize all those fallow blogs - just pop in board them and write what I like, then move on. That would be so cool. I would really, really enjoy that. Mostly because it would mean that I wasn't marking.
Marking sucks. Think writing essays sucks? Marking them is so much worse. And you know what? No one uses capitals or commas any more. It's just one, long crap text message or myspace post. But at least first year essays are quick to mark - I've been getting through about 4 an hour (yes, that's about 15 minutes each - only 1500 words long. I could be neglecting something, but I don't care). But I've only marked 7 in two days. But this isn't really my fault. I am also sailing the red seas and trying to ignore a bullshit headache. I feel that blogging is the only solution. And, as every seadog's polly knows, the only real cure is a whole bunch of pieces of cake.*
*parts of this post were brought to you in the spirit of international talk like a pirate day. The Crink would just like to remind everyone that she is a pyrate. Rlly!!1! kthxbi.
for this punnilicious friday cat bloggage. Props to me.
I only wear clothes that I've made or bought of the internet. Except for underwear. The Squeeze says it's time to stop when I'm making my own knickers. And dancing requires hardcore support, so no home-made bra action either. And socks - I buy those too.
But besides those things, I make everything else.
Except for tshirts.
I really like threadless tshirts. In fact, they're the only ones I buy. I'd like to say it's because I'm really loyal or cool, but it's actually because I can never find cool tshirts on the internet. I like the nerdy ones (I especially want the 'homie don't right click' T - it's a reference to mac users - from some silly nerd site), but they only come in giant nerd man sizes. The girl nerd tshirts from those sites are designed for nerd boys' imaginary girlfriends.
But with the buying lady tshirts on the internet? Once you find a size/brand you like - buy em. I like XXL American Apparel lady tshirts. Or XL. I am not a tiny little woman - I am a giant, ravening academic beast. I constitute my own public sphere. So no bullshit half-size belly-revealing rubbish for me.
I don't mind buying Tshirts online, really. But when I check out tshirt sizing and see this, I'm not happy. Because, like I said, I'm packing some serious curvage here, baby. Mostly round my belly and, increasingly, around my armies. And boobage? Yes please.
so that little barbie there, she's not helping me pick my size.
1. Where are her hips?
2. Where are her boobies?
3. How does she pick things up with those puny little armies? Can she lead? Could she be base in an aerial? No? Then she's not helping me.
4. Does she eat? Would she embarass herself at yum cha?
No. So why would you possibly assume that she could help me out with choosing a tshirt size?
I say fuck off barbie to those online tshirt size guides. And hello real ladies.
Right now I have some pretty nasty anxiety.
Got a sore neck and an achey head. And even some stomach churning.
Why?
I'm trying to finish the editing on an article for an important journal I've had accepted. It's neat, but the pressure, the pressure! I'm out of academic practice and I can't remember how to think, let alone make articles wonderful.
Plus, what do you do when one referee says "perfect - change nothing" and the other says "this sounds like a rough draft"? I vote with doing the latter's changes - no article is ever perfect. But at least it makes me sound like my ideas are clever, even if I can't seem to use the English language properly.
Other anxiety issue? The MLX is coming a bit slowly - we are a bit behind schedule and it's causing me anxiety. We don't have our logo done yet (argh! we got on it too late!), we haven't started operation PR Snowstorm yet, we have some decisions to make about venues and bands, I have to do the website (www.mlx-7.com btw) and...
Now I write about it, it's actually not very important stuff. Certainly nothing that can't be solved quite simply. We have a meeting on Friday night where we'll make new decisions. I want to write about our new MLX apprentice/handover scheme, but I don't really have time now (The Squeeze is patiently waiting for me to come back to the last half of a West Wing episode while I send of a freaky email), nor am I sure it's appropriate.
But it's making me think more about a paper I wanted to write about labour and administrative management in events management in swing dance culture. Whatsit who writes about girls and raves in the UK (Birmingham school - can never remember her name... Mcsomething?) talks about cottage industries and rave culture. I have some stuff I've written about volunteer labour and exploitation of volunteers by for-profit bodies and individuals in swing, and how that's justified by the communitarian bullshit that gets around... I also want to write some stuff about gender and volunteering and event management - is it any surprise that there are only 2 men on the 8/6 person MLX committee?
...and I need to start sending off emails getting some serious facts about women DJs in Australia in swing culture - I need to do some follow up research stuff (I think there's been some serious changes lately). How come Melbourne has a zillion female DJs, but nationally there are about 4 who are well known? How come Perth has so few DJs? I suspect it's because Melbourne has so many social DJing opportunities - DJing has become lower status/more accessible. There's also a strong network of new women DJs. And all that illicit file-sharing and music swapping? It's definitely an important counter measure for high-priced and inaccessible CDs and the 'high art' 'professional knowledge' 'heirarchy of knowledge' thing in swing DJ culture. No one's bothered to tell these Melbourne chicks that you have to know every major song by Artie Shaw before you can DJ, or that you have to have been dancing for 5 years or have 60 thousand CDs. So they're just getting on in there and learning on the job. Often in pairs or buddies - all-girl buddy partnerships.
Ok, CJ calls....
The other night we were standing outside a bar saying goodbye to some friends, when one declared "What's this rain? This sucks!" And I thought, as he was uniformly rounded on and told off, 'This would never have happened a few years ago - we're in Melbourne. We're supposed to complain about rain.'
Ok, I'm bored.
This whole no-job, no-study thing has palled.
Writing articles? I've tried, and now I'm bored.
Job? Can't get one. Well, not an academic one (it is kind of a quiet time of year - and that fancy job in the US didn't work out. :( ). I'm not ready to work at JB just yet.... though I could handle Basement Discs. But please - fourteen years of tertiary education to return to my retail roots? I don't think so.
Domestic maintenance? I have to be bored - our house gleams. But that hasn't helped our mouse problem.
Sewing? Done a lot, kind of over it.
Quilting? Yeah, same.
Crocheting? Well, it is pretty much crocheting season again - I can bear to have a lap full of wool once more. But really - this isn't high brain stuff.
Compulsive dance practice? I'm looking for high brain stimulation, thanks.
Compulsive cooking? Getting there.
Compulsive shopping? Stalled by my lack of solvency. But encouraged by the proximity of good grocery shops and my renewed interest in eating-for-interest.
Fillums? Yes, many.
Television and DVDs? Yes, even more.
Gardening? Quietish, but on the horizon.
Ob-con laundry? Oh yes - ask The Squeeze about his drawers. Both types, actually.
Webbing? I'm just about to sort out the site for MLX7. And the MJDA site needs to go to a blogging program. But I've lost interest in FSP. Though I'm tempted to take it up again after some stooge thought that Frankie Manning story was for real. God, never heard of satire?
Reading? Reading (and read) far, far too many books lately. All fun books, and no productive 'work' books. But reading lots and lots of articles (I am pillaging the databases with my new, sneaky back-door access).
DJing? Boring. Bored. Like a drill. Sigh. That's so 1939.
Yoga? Twice a week and thinking about a third session. Flexible? √ Strong? √ Calm? √ sort of. Bored? √
I think I should make my thesis into a book. I have no idea where to start or how to do it, though I have had a look at the MUP help guide. It's not all that helpful, though. But really, what else am I going to do? I have 5 articles (or so - I forget exactly how many) coming out soon, and it's only March. Even I'm sick of me and my articles. And I'm running out of journals to hassle. I need something challenging.
Anyone need a thesis written?
Sorry I haven't written anything interesting lately. I've just been busy with other things. I am reading your blogs, though - just not commenting. If I owe you an email - sorry!
What have I been doing?
Going to yoga twice a week or so. The class I did on Saturday really kicked my arse. I've been having more trouble with my right hip (as I get older and less fit I find my minor niggles getting more niggley), so we did a lot of stuff to help the sartorius and whatsit get it together. We did a lot of standing poses, which I quite like, and lots of work on the sixty zillion muscles in our lower torsoes and around our hips. So today I am really sore and achey. My adductors (you can see a map of the adductor gang here) are talking to me. But at least I'm not getting grizzle from my Tensor fasciae whatsit - which is usually especially achey (it might not be called the Tf - I am crap with names). My lower back is achey, there's some grumbling from various abs and my shoulders are aching - shoulders meaning everything across my back from my neck to the bottom of my shoulder blades. I also have achey ankles. These are all good aches, because it means that I've actually been using these buggers.
I <3 yoga, but yoga is not for babies.
Reading about blues music, the record industry and radio in the 1920s. I am working on a paper in a very loose way (I discussed the stuff I was reading here, ages ago), but mostly just reading where my interest takes me. I'm fascinated by the social, political, industrial and economic forces colliding in the blues music of that period. Blues music was incredibly, crazily popular in the 20s. Yet segregation was still seriously in place throughout the US, so black artists couldn't work in the control booth with whites, were un- or underpaid by record labels, or dismissed as 'low'.
'Coon songs' were also very popular - and very disturbing. A Coon song was basically a song performed by a white artist in black face, or otherwise 'pretending' to be black (and many of these were Jewish, which is weird stuff). They were pretty dang offensive. Minstrelsy generally was still very hip. But the blues music being sung and performed (often by women) was politically quite hardcore - the example I discuss in that earlier post (linked to above) is just one of a series of songs dealing explicitly with racist violence, domestic violence, poverty, sexuality and sex and so on. And it didn't pull punches.
In addition, the Great Migration was happening - thousands of African Americans were moving north to escape lynching, Jim Crow laws and unemployment in the south. They ended up in cities like New York, LA and Chicago. So there were thousands of people from all sorts of different regions coming together and sharing music and dance in new, urban communities. Like Harlem. Race riots happened in most cities.
In terms of the music industry generally, radio turned up in the mid 20s, and within a six month period the phonograph industry was completely gutted. Prior to that moment it had been incredibly successful. But radio - with 'free music' - just killed it. So the race record labels (like Black Swan (NB I think the dates are wrong in that article) - labels run by African Americans and recording African American artists) were killed off. And their positive social work was cut off as well.
Then I've also been reading about the shift from blues to jazz in the late 20s, and the effect this might have had on black participation in the music industry. What was the impact of the formalisation and regulation of American radio on the independent black stations pushed off the dial by white business interests? What did it mean that radio stations wouldn't record black artists in many cities? What's significant about white artists pretending to be black (and vice versa) when they sang on the radio? When you keep in mind the fact that black artists and live music was very, very popular, what does it mean that white radio stations were ignoring black artists? And then, even more interesting, what is the import of each major regional centre/city having its own radio stations and radio legislation? And how does the American Federation of Musicians fit into all this - what with their recording bans in the 40s and racially segregated ranks during the 10s, 20s, 30s...? Surely there's some sort of labour/union/race/class thing to be ferretted out there...
So I've been distracted by all that lovely stuff (who knows what was happening in Australia in the 1920s, music industry wise). But eventually I'll get to the (interesting) point where I'm discussing how contemporary swing dancers - largely white, middle class urban youth - get into this type of music.
I've read a lot, but I need to stew it for a while before I can write cleverly about it.
Going to the Astor Cinema. To see the Fountain and Eragorn in a Friday night double. Nice date night action. The Fountain was dull, Eragorn was dumb (and if you've ever read any sf ever, 100% derivative... but not bad for a teenager). The Astor rocks, it's nice to be able to go see a double feature on a Friday night for $13. The seats are uncomfortable, but they have nice cakes for the intermission. And it's a nice art deco cinema (not as posh as the Westgarthe, but still lovely). We catch our tram down to the Domain interchange (about 30 minutes), then a tram down to the Dandenong Rd/Chapel St intersection (about 15 minutes). 45 minutes to get so far south is pretty good stuff, really. And they've extended the tram hours on Friday nights, so we can get home comfortably as well. All up it costs about $20 each for tram tickets, two films and snacks. Not bad at all for a nice date night. We have started eating dinner down there as well before the films, but have yet to find a cheap restaurant that's not serving greaser food. Suggestions welcome.
Watching lots of West Wing and other telly on DVD. WW rocks the world. Yesterday I got Commander in Chief's first four episodes out on DVD. Dumb. It simply can't compete with the fabulousness of WW. It's poorly acted, poorly written, scarily simplistic and politically naive (it's a soap, really), and all this does no favours to the concept of a woman president. Maybe I'd have dug it if I'd never seen WW. But not now.
I've also been working my way through House, which is much better than I thought it would be (admittedly, I'd thought it'd be shit). I'm really interested in the way they deal with 'ethics'. The assumption is that Dr House doesn't pay attention to formal medical ethics - he ignores 'DNR' (do not revive) orders, he bosses patients around and is rude, he does as he likes. With this in mind, how does this sort of bloke handle relationships with women, and more importantly, how does an American soap deal with an ethically dodgy protagonist? Is he going to get 'reformed' (I have my suspicions), is it going to be normalised? In addition to House's own dodginess, his best friend (whose name I can't ever remember - they guy from Dead Poets' Society) seems always on the brink of adultery; one of House's 'assistant' doctors (residents?) worked to undermine House by spying on him for the temporary boss-of-hospitality, all in order to save his own job; House's lady resident is smitten with him and has been signed as 'damaged' in some way. It's all a bit suss. But that's what makes it interesting. Not interesting in a WW way, but interesting in a 'what will this pop TV do with these issues?' way.
While I'm on this tack, I have to say I have some minor niggles with the way WW handles gender. CJ seems to get quite different treatment (narratively, as well as by other characters) than the men. I don't know if this is the program being 'realist', or some 'unnoticed' sexism sneaking in. Either way, it's interesting enough to keep me watching.
DJing a bit, dancing a bit. Nothing to report. It's kind of boring, actually, and I'm much more interested in yoga at the moment. There are plenty of CDs I want, and books I want to buy and read. But not much to talk about, really.
Reading a stack of crime fiction. I've finally made my way through a massive stack of sf from the Mother, and have started hoeing through a stack of crime fiction from the Supes (she reviews crime novels for a newspaper so has lots and lots of good things to borrow). I'm selective with my crime reading - I don't like true crime, and I don't like those voyeuristic and scupulously detailed discusssions of brutal rapes and murders. But I do like figuring out who did it and why. Right now I'm reading a Michael Connolly called the Lincoln Lawyers, and I've just finished one called The Winter of Frankie Machine by Don Winslow, which is apparently going to be a film in 2008. I'd really like a nice slab of sf, though, as the crime is kind of coming to an end. I think I'll pop into the book shop in the city (called swords and something or other, or to Rendezvous Romance - because they sell really cheap new novels) and burn a hole in The Squeeze's credit card.
I like to go home via Sydney Road late at night. I avoid the road during the day because it's so busy, but I like being driven up it at night because it's interesting. I ride up it late Thursday night (if you watch out you might see me riding up it tonight at some point between 11pm and 12.30am), but that's getting increasingly scary. It used to be empty and 'safe' but now it's full of wanker 'I'm so cool' kids spilling out of The Spot and The R... pub that starts with R whose name I always forget and the grotty bars full of old furniture. I don't like those sorts of people.
But I do like riding straight up Sydney Road, having gone up Queen Street, through the Vic Markets car park, along William Street and then through the roundabout of death.
When we're riding east from Sydney Road The Squeeze always asks if we can take this one particular side street. I once saw a giant bunny looking out at the road through the gate of a house on that street, and The Squeeze has only seen it once. So we ride down that road hoping to see it again. We haven't.
I like to ride down through the parking lot at the Vic Markets on my way to dancing on Thursday nights. I come down William Street, past the top of the markets and then down through the carpark. There are usually millions of seagulls hanging about in there and I love riding my bike down through the crowd of them, yelling. It's slightly downhill, and a big, empty space. There's never anyone around and it's dark and empty. It's a bit scary because I could hit something and fly off my bike, or the seagulls could decide to pull a Hitchcock on me, but those thoughts just make the whole thing more fun.
I like riding to the Laundry (a venue) on Saturday afternoons to see local jazz band called Virus. The band's made up of a raggle taggle of younger doods and older doods who really know their shit. There's no sheet music, they share the solos around during the song, and visiting musicians from out of town drop in to do a guest song or two. This is proper jazz - sometimes they check the sheet music before the song, but not always. The decide what to play on the spot - there are no set lists. They take requests. They wear scrappy clothes (shorts and thongs, dress pants and tshirts, ill fitting suit coats with jeans), drink a lot of beer and make crude jokes. The music is fricking fast, fricking hot and fricking good - it kicks your arse if you're dancing.
The venue is narrow and loud and crowded and smokey. We dance sometimes, but mostly we drink beer. That's how jazz should be - loud and fun and crowded and with lots of heckling (between the band and the audience). Not with rules about not talking and turning off your mobile phone. Heck, you're lucky if you can hear your mobile ring at the Laundry. This gig is on every single Saturday afternoon between 4 and 7 and is free. After we've seen the band, we usually go to eat somewhere. It's lots of fun, but it makes you stink like a dirty old pub floor.
Go to the cinema on my own during the day to see lady films and art house films. Long, boring things with no action scenes. I like to get a chilli chocolate ice cream if I'm at the Nova or a bag of joobs if I'm at the Westgarthe.
I like to go to the Astor for a double session on the weekend, though I haven't done that many times.
I like going to fabric shops and spending hours and hours in there choosing fabric.
I like doing the same at the video shop.
And in music shops.
I like riding down through Royal Park from Royal Parade, down the path past the stadium and giant play ground to the cemetary and then down to Lygon Street. It's all a bit brown and dry and crispy these days, but it's still a nice ride.
I like it that bikes and trams get a green light on Swanston Street at the intersection of Swanston and... LaTrobe? Where Melbourne Central is. I like being able to zoom off at the lights while the cars are left at the lights, cranky.
I like riding my bike through the Edinborough Gardens, past the giant possums at night and around the fountain during the day. Even though you're not allowed to. I ride carefully so I don't hit anyone.
I like going to Brunetti's and having an Italian hot chocolate with a tiny biscuit and reading my book.
So I've made the transition to MT3.3 and with far less fussing than all you wordpress babies. There will be improved comment filtering coming along soonish (once The Squeeze finishes fixing some crap plugins).
Best thing about this version of MT? The ability to resize the little box you write entries in. I'm sure there are other good things, but I've yet to discover them.
To celebrate, here's a nice photo for The Squeeze (and the frighteningly large number of submariner types in my peer group):
This picture is from this site (c/o baris-tah!)
Because I'll be sitting about on my clack for the next week (I hope) in between spurts of walking and outside-ing, I have plans to redesign this site.
Right now I'm not happy with the amount of scrolling it takes for me to get to my links in the left column there - I use this site as an oldfashioned home page, where I keep links I use regularly (speaking of which, some need sorting out).
I don't like the stark black/white contrast of the starry background with the white words and I think I need to find a smaller font so the individual entries take up less space. I think there's a bit broken in my template too - I suspect every entry since the last time I fiddled with this site is being kept on this front page (which makes for all sorts of annoying page-opening issues).
I am generally not keen on blogs where I have to click through to the invidual entry to read the whole entry - I like to just read straight down from top to bottom (I'm like this with newspapers too, though). Nor do I like writing to accomodate this break.
I think I need a clearer menu across the top, pointing to things like an about page, a page of links, etc etc.
But there are a few things that kind of have to stay with a blog (with my blog):
My main priorities are: useability; nice clear text; a design that says 'me'.
I've been looking through the usual sorts of web design pages for inspiration (including this one), trying to remember to style it up on the laptop screen, not my giant desk top monitor or The Squeeze's even huger desk top, and trying (and failing) not to fall for bright-colours-and-white-backgrounds again. I style like I dress - playschool presenter all the way.
I suspect that this site will be gradually morphed into the new deal... because I just can't be arsed starting from scratch to make something beautiful that works well. As per usual, I'm too busy writing words to think about the layout of this site.
PS any ideas? Tips? I am a CSS stooge and can html a bit. I say no to javascript because I can't speak it.
Things look a little crap around here. I'm just doing a bit of tinkering.
It has come to my attention that having email details on this site would be useful.
I am also a bit over this site's design. Am looking at a long period of (blissful) unemployment in new year. Will do things then. In the meantime, if you're after me, I can be reached at dogpossum [at] this domain.
:)
I had time to blog about procrastinating.
But I'm settling for:
a) very short entries
or
b) very odd and stream-of-consciousness entries.
I write my entries straight into movabletype and then click 'save'. Sometimes I proof-read.
I wish I had more discipline. But not too much.
Today in this book* I read about hypergraphia and hyperlogia.
I wondered (for a little moment) if I was a hypergraph**, then came to my senses.
But really, imagine that - being a compulsive writer. They're the sorts of people who produce hundreds of novels or pieces of music or ...other written down things. I think you have to be using a pen/pencil and paper rather than a keyboard to qualify, though.
It kind of reminds me of the story about Donald Friend on the 7.30 Report last night. Apparently he was a talented writer and artist. According to Lou Klepac,
Donald was given all these gifts, you know, writer, painter, draughtsman, could do anything, and he didn't squander his talents but he went in each direction a bit.
But I wonder if part of Friend's problem was that he was a bit hyper...something. Couldn't settle and not do something. Had to be writing. Or painting. Or something.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this - I know nothing about Donald Friend (I didn't even watch the telly when the 7.30 Report was on, I just listened).
But I think my attention's been caught by all this obsessive-compulsive overwork type stuff in the air.
The university was in holiday mode today - the average age of people eating lunch had doubled, and people looked tired. Staff and postgrads were wandering the halls talking about being tired. And also (sneakily, I'm sure), in the midst of a writing-binge euphoria. On the parts of the postgrads at least.
Me, I feel on the edge of being hyper-productive. If I had a thesis to write, I'd be whipping off chapters by the dozen. But I don't. I just have papers to mark (I'm 7 short, which means I'll have to go in again to collect some... or get them mailed to me. Good thing I've been investing all that office-lady-kissingup, huh?). And an exchange to run. But they're very low-brain things. Lots of nittygritty detail, no real creative work or highbrain work. When I say 'lowbrain' I mean that it doesn't involve much serious thinking. Dancing is necessarily lowbrain (well, the way I do it, it is). Thesising is highbrain because it involves seriously complicated thinking over a long period of time. And you combine tasks - reading, writing, thinking. You plan ideas out over a long period of time, and have to keep all that stuff in your head without losing any. Careful, don't jostle - it'll spill.
...and right now, all this stressy overwork stuff is making me feel like I should be being creative. Writing interesting things. Solving difficult sewing problems.
But I'm talking crap on the internet instead. And wishing my latest CDs would arrive.
*you know, I couldn't remember who wrote this or what it was called - I had to go find it and see. It's because I read so many of these sorts of sort-of-SF and seriously-SF books whose names all sound the same. I don't really care about the authors either (unless it's MZB or other doods who I re-read religiously). I don't even buy these books - I borrow them from my ps.
You know, why is it that music nerds are freakishly anal about copying and borrowing music (ie they think it's a bad-naughty-wrong), but book lovers (who've been around for far far longer than recorded-music-lovers) are all over that shit?
I'm rapidly losing interest in the precious 'don't copy!' music argument. I have yet to hear a thorougly convincing case for never copying music.
So I'm taking a leaf (tee hee) out of my book-brain and being ok with borrowing. Though just with books, I'd really rather have my own copy of something really great.
**ahahahhahahhahahahah
Today I had the final visit to the dentist. There was no anaesthetic, there was no crying (though I did tear up a bit at one point).
There was some filling, some polishing of fillings and some cleaning of teeth. Then there was a whole lot of cleaning out of credit cards...or should that be filling up of credit cards?
It's nice to think that now I have no income I will still have a massive dental debt to keep me company.
Reassuringly, I am officially a 'twelve month person' - meaning that I actually have such great teeth I need only turn up at the dentist office once a year. If only, if only I had gone in to see the dentist earlier and avoided that horrible root canal.
So that is officially that.
On other fronts...
There are other things that've happened, and other things that need doing* (catch me at the Spiegeltent this weekend between 2 and 4 if you're up for a bit of Olde Timey music and an off-colour joke or two), but right now I'm concentrating on the marking. And trying not to think about the 3 house guests who're arriving next week (and one of whom is currently bedless).
Think of me, will you, and send me calm thoughts - only... um... at least four weeks before I actually get a weekend off. It's been six months since the last one, but who's counting?
*Not the least of which is cleaning our house and actually planning a meal more complex than fresh filled pasta with spinach and salami and fresh tomato and garlic. Sounds good, I know, but try eating it 3 days out of 7 every week. WE are living in squalor: orange peels, dirty socks and used tissues? I wish we could find our orange peels amongst the rubble in our nest. And do NOT ask me about the happy mouse family living in our compost bin.
Oh god, I'm a bit overbusy.
I have to write two papers for the weekend in Canberra (one of which is due by the 10th November, and is 4000 words - so we can all read each others' papers before we get to the conference), and while I've had a bash at the CSSA one, it's not really up to snuff. And I've had a look at some stuff I might write for the dance seminar thing, but...
Let's just say that I'm a bit out of the writing way of things. It totally sucks because before I started teaching I was totally on with the writing thing. And now I am not.
In addition, we have ongoing MLX issues. Because we're only a few weeks away from DDay (or dee weekend if you'd rather), there are a million little jobs that need completing. I am thinking 'volunteers' and 'get those last couple of DJs to make up their minds' and 'paper program' and 'go pimp passes at classes every night'). The registration for passes closes on the 3rd November, so we have about a week to sell a few (million) more. Things look good, but it's a bit stressy. Especially as dancers like to leave it til the last minute. Especially Melbourne dancers.
I'm also doing those sets at the Spiegeltent (what was I thinking?).
And as of this afternoon I'll have a hundred exams to mark. Then from the 6th I'll have a hundred esssays to mark.
So when am I going to write those papers again?
And of course, the Great Dental Saga continues. Round two of the surprse root canal continued yesterday, and I was more brave than last time (mostly because all the drilling was done). I only cried a little bit, and was only a little bit scared. I found thinking of my lesson plans a nice distraction. Nothing numbs pain like tedium. And a few extra rounds of local anaesthetic (thanks Dr Scott - I know it's madness that it's still hurting in there, but it is. I'm trying to be tough, but that crying - it's not under my control any more. It's a response-to-pain thing). But it's back for round three next Monday, and then we're done. Well, except for the whole cleaning the rest of the teeth situation.
All this sucks because I previously had perfect teeth. But four years of neglect meant that a tiny cavity got to go crazy in my teeth and infected the nerve. So what have we learnt? Do NOT neglect your visits to the dentist - if I'd gone I'd have saved myself over a grand in cash and a lot of pain.
Yeah, so things are kind of hard at the moment. I must admit, though, I do like being really busy. I wish I had a few minutes to stop and think and perhaps a chance to think about the music I'll play. I'd also like a chance to go to yoga sometime soon. But I haven't been able to go in ages, and I haven't had a weekend off since I started teaching. Hell, I'd kill for just one day right now. One whole day where I could just do nothing. Maybe sew something. Or lie on the bed and read.
I have, though, been able to treat myself to afternoon films. The whole anaesthetic/pain/trauma thing has made it necessary for me to spend a bit of time sitting down before riding home from the dentist - thank goodness for the Kino across the road is all I can say. So I've seen a fair few films lately. Plus The Squeeze and I have squeezed in a Tuesday evening and a Sunday evening of date time so we can reacquaint ourselves with the features of the other's face. Maybe kiss 'em too.
And I've been going to bed really early and getting up early too. Later than 11pm? What? That's crazy talk! I am all about 9.30pm bedtimes these days.
But I have been doing more exercise - riding to work rocks.
And I'll have to leave that there. Got to go fuss over those papers for half an hour before heading off to the university. Think of me, will you?
Sam.
The Squeeze's favourite part of this blog is the neatly aligned list of categories over there on the left. He likes the little circles. And the aligning. So I haven't the heart to change it, even if it kind of irks me.
But I love him. And mostly because yesterday while inspecting The Matriarch's position on the swiss ball he asked "can we have an alignment check?"
Describing my hair as looking as if it had just been plopped onto my head, David Bigword (as he insists I referr to him, following his recent exploration of the English Language) advocated a hair cut. I will comply - I can't hack the mass no longer.
I went to that stupid BBQ yesterday and kissed stupid Brian* (only the cheek, though - is that a good or a bad thing?) and now I have a stupid cold. Guess that's why I couldn't smell all the horrid smells everyone was crapping on about at the BBQ yesterday.
But anyway, back to the cold. A horrible, stupid cold - I have a chest full of goob and a nasty, wracking cough that really hurts my throat. I have a temperature, sore glands in my neck, sinus ache, goobs in my nose and sinuses and I am the definition of lassitude.
Poor ham. And just when I was getting hardcore with yoga and dancing (probably because I was getting hardcore with yoga and dancing).
So I've been lying on the bed reading and doing some doodling on the internet. No doubt i'll have to rewrite everything once I'm properly lucid again - I kind of write like I'm transcribing trances for whirling dervish when I write ill, particularly when I have a temperature... but anyway. I've added some articles to FSP, noting the vast number of bands on in coming weeks (mostly trad jazz, and at least 3 I've never seen - all featuring the same guy, Mike McQuaid, so I'm interested), wondering if I'll be well enough by Wednesday to do this gig.
I'm also carrying some mild Christmas-related anxiety. Did anyone else know it was only 13 days away? Has anyone bought any presents? Booked that restaurant for Boxing Day? Done anything more than order about 6kg of meat for 4 people?
And it's hot and windy, with rain looming...
Bah. Humbug.
*Brian has had a heavy cold for a while. That's why this point is relevant.
and house cleaning is DONE. been fiddling with the statcounter code and doing some blog tidying.
and it's done.
so now i can quit procrastinating and get back to the thesis. yay!
it's a rainy crap day, so i'm not sorry to stay indoors....
extraneous details:
- last night i went to yoga. crinks and i are doing bubs or ones. we've just moved up to ones, and it's some scary shit. lots of inverted pose action. but i like to do bubs on monday and ones on wednesday.
- i'm thinking of popping up to the cornish arms to see the pearly shells tonight. they don't swing so much, but chris tanner is playing with them tonight. and hell, it's free, it's a 5minute bike ride, i might catch up with some nice people, it's nice to lean on the bar and drink pineapple juice and mineral water while The Squeeze has a pint. we used to eat dinner there too, but the kitchen has gone to crap. blurgh.
- i haven't been dancing at a dancer run event since mlx. that's nearly 2 weeks. i have been to see two bands though this week and last, and danced a lot in sydney. i am very much in love with virus atm - holy SMOKES that young trumpeter is GOOD! i mean, blow-your-brains-out good. it's very excellent to go jiggle about with the crazy old jazz niks to virus on a saturday afternoon - and for free, too! i'm interested in going to see the Society Syncopators this saturday at the vic jazz club i think* - $12 though. so i'm getting a gutful of dixie these days - bring on the CHARLESTON! YEAH!! and then there's cbd on thursday night, and the funpit on friday night (both dancer-run, DJed doos).
- crinks and i are making fillums. short fillums. we talk about the ideas together, we film it together, then she edits it. i've been doing the burning of cd copies and could possibly draw the titles. each film is a gem: 100% craptastic stupidity. beautiful. so far we share them with our friends (meaning The Squeeze and michael in sydney). long live the pun! one day we may even get a cast of more than two people together. one day we may buy our own camera and quit borrowing rob's or using crinks' dad's crappy little still digital camera. one day. but we're pretending we're robert rodriguez using only scraps of film and with no budget, aiming for a local release rather than international fame. so it's all about doing it tough.
*for those weird, crazy stalkers who are reading: just because you know where i'll be, don't mean you can stop me snubbing you. so quit with the stalking already.
I've been busy busy lately. So no blogging. Though I guess that's one good thing about being busy - plenty to blog about.
1.MLX5. we ran it the weekend before last. It went majorly well, and - surprisingly - I don't now hate the thought of the damn thing. We had a Tasmanian and a Perthian stay with us (with extended visits from crinkle) and had a jolly time.
2.Sydney. On the Thursday after the Monday MLX finished, I went to Sydney to do a paper at the CSAA conference. It went well. The visit was way fun - stayed with nice local dancer, sampled the city's local dance scene, etc etc. Did no site-seeing though, which I kind of regret, esp as I wanted to get to the PowerHouse and the Gallery. But bought three Proper box sets (Fats Waller, Bix Beiderbecke and Ben Webster) for me and one for The Squeeze (Oscar Peterson). All for only $35 each. That's a total of 16 superior CDs for only $150. I know, I know, it's amazing.
3.The Squeeze quits his job and goes on holiday. We are both home all day, now, which is only mildly distracting for PhD girl, and could end in mutual, cataclysmic explosion action. But only could. Good thing we like each other.
4.Came home and wrote chapter. The best is last, of course. That goddamn final chapter is now down in words. Of course, it's a crazy mess and needs mucho mucho work, but still.
Jobs to do:
1.Edit chapter into chapterness. Out of the wilderness, into the world of agriculted thesis.
2.Get a decent photo for the Melbourne Jazz Dance Association site (the body we use for running dance events - starting with MLX5), buy a domain and get the goddamn thing up there.
3.Think about the MLX6 website and theme. Am considering some sort of blogging software to make updating the site much easier and to allow muliple authors. Could use some other sort of data managment outfit, but... we'll see. We definitely need a discussion board and facility for uploading files as we've pretty much maxed out our yahoo site's space. But that will depend on the purchase of the domain and foundation of the website. Pft.
4.Got to yoga. Just go.
5.Go see a film.
Well, it's been a slow thesis week. Again. I have no excuse. My conf paper is, however, looking dang fine - chock full of clips and photos. If powerpoint dies, I'm dead.
The birthday is on Friday - 31 years old and still dressing like a playschool presenter. We are making a pinata in honour of the day... meaning, we started last night and it's still pretty wet. The Squeeze, though he knows everything about computers, knows nothing about paper mache. Hopefully he's learnt a few things from the Queen of Craft, including smaller-pieces-of-paper=good. He tested the theory and ended up with a bit of a mess. But now he Knows.
On other, procastinatory fronts, FSP has a new style (and a tidied up template). There will, no doubt, be complaints about its paleness, it's whiteness. But I don't care. I like the white-blue-green 70s feel of it. I've even posted a few entries on it to demonstrate its excellence. Just don't look at the comments pop-ups - I got sick of the thing before I finished them.
On one more doing-something-other-than-that-which-I-should thing: I've been finishing off some sewing jobs that needed doing. That black dress with the indecently low bodice that's been hanging in the dining room for weeks, waiting to be finished? Done. And teamed with some knee-length, white, lace-edged knickers, will be perfect for the MLX5 weekend. The Squeeze proclaims it "SO cute." And I've finally finished those black, stretch-linen trousers I've had sitting about for at least a year. Side-button fly, and very nicely fitted too, thankyou. They will look dang fine with the blackish denim jacket with the black/cream 'French' peasant-styled lining. Just need some sort of blouse action so I don't shock anyone with my incredibly hot bare chest.
And those blue stretchy-fabric-that-looks-like-denim-but-isn't trousers? Also done and very comfortable. I'm not really sure what I was thinking when I bought that fabric. Sure, it looks just like denim, but it's not denim, and fake denim is pretty damn daggy. But they're supremely comfortable trousers (I put darts in them and all to fit them properly), and even though the waist is a tad high for casual stretchy pants (I was thinky 'real trousers' when I cut them out and added the waist band), they still fit really nicely and look good as well as feeling good.
I'm considering making one more little dress or perhaps a blouse. I need to waste more time, I'm sure. And I'm waiting for an imovie file to compress, and it's taking ages because I want top quality footage of dancers for my paper. Can you believe I get to do this? Put together a series of excellent clips and photos of dancers to match a (very) short paper all about camps and exchanges? And then get paid by the uni to travel to another city to deliver it? Is this not the perfect Score?
... now, if only I could finish that half-done final thesis chapter...
Did I mention that I have a new ibook? It's very pretty. I like the way it has a cd disc drive. Small things, I know... and I like the way I have a pluggy thing so I can watch my clips on the telly. I'm still not convinced that itunes is the best thing on earth (I will miss winamp on the old little lappy - it was nice to use itunes and winamp in conjunction - music database + simple media player = better than itunes alone), but still... It is very pretty. We love each other very much.
I saw the new Pride and Prejudice fillum the other day. I loved it. But then, I would. I'm very into lady-films. I was planning on going on my own, but The Squeeze decided he wanted to come to. So he did. We went to the Nova, which is quite middle class/studenty and has some nice little cinemas that seat about 50 people. We were in one of those. With 44 women and only 3 other men. Dave was awash in oestrogen. It was pretty much the perfect way to see a new Jane Austen flick: a cinema full of ladies (mostly in groups of 2,3 or 4), all rowdy and happy and looking forward to a nice fillum. All of whom knew the story intimately, and were really only there to see how this one 'was done'. There was much mid-film commentary, laughing at jokes and appreciating in-jokes, cheering for the heroine, etc etc etc.
I had a lovely time. I don't know about The Squeeze, but he did laugh in the right places, and didn't do the annoying wriggling-about-and-sighing that he does when he's bored (and for which I'd originally planned to exclude him from this outing).
Jane Austen = yes.
hm... That's about it, really. I have no other news. I am too dull for words. Literally.
This has been the couple-of-days of websiting. Obvious thesis procrastination.
I've been working on a layout for the Melbourne Jazz Dance Association site (tres minimalism - very clean, simple, modern-looking. ooh la la); I've been fiddling with the FSP style (again, a very different look - 'cooler' colours (green and blue with white/black basics), and I've gotten jiggy with flickr. I've uploaded about 19 photos and immediately busted my monthly limit. I either need to upload smaller files (and sacrifice quality? Are you on crack?!) or get me a flickr upgrade - $US24.95 a year. Hm....
It's some seriously neat shit, though...
apologies for the dodgy list of categories over there on the lef t- I've not gotten back to fixing this site properly (I doubt it'll ever get fixed, really). And apologies for the rank archives page. I will fix it one day. I promise. Oh yeah, and I'll fix up freeswingpress some day too....
i know the comments aren't working yet, folks, but i'm too busy to sort it out just yet! so hang loose til i deal with it...
btw, anyone want to buy an MLX5 tshirt? they're black with a white shoe and 'MLX5' in the mlx5 font next to it. they should arrive in about... a week and a half? only $22. and some are sweatshop free. yay!
do you like the new theme?
i know, i know, those stars are a bit much. i'll make them smaller, just wait.
but you should note: that was the first time i'd ever tiled anything on a site. aren't i clever?
here is a bit more text to test something.
finally we get around to reincarnating dogpossum.
like that new title? i drew it by hand then coloured it in with photoshop. i think i prefer the hand-coloured effect, but i couldn't be arsed going back and colouring in all the masters.
on a technical front, we've installed the new, flasher version of moveable type (3.something). the author interface is swish. there are new features (including layers of categories - which willl be a nice thing when i finally upgrade freeswingpress to the newer version of movable type).
the squeeze thought shifting my dead dogpossum files to the new movable type would be easy. one hour tops. yeah, right.
so don't hold your breath - read back through old entries as they're uploaded, perhaps...
i just looked at a blog that had a post with 486 comments. can you believe that? 486. shee-it.
talk about popular kids.
well, i'm happy with my sum total of about 5 readers. i have nothing to prove. morissey loves me just as i am.
but i do sometimes worry about the fact that all my readers are blokes. i mean, i know there are a couple of you faithful chicks who tune in now and then
a) to see photos of yourselves
b) to make sure i haven't died down here in melbourne or
c) to see pictures of the clothes i'm making for you so you can answer awkward questions about numbers of buttons.
but really. blokes? what is it that i'm saying that encourages a male demographic?