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Friday, May 30
[Salted cashew]posted by peter at 14:05 .......Well I didn't win the $5,000 travel voucher I'd hoped for when I rubbed the magic lamp prize card in the Tim-Tams packet. It's so disappointing, don't they understand how happy it would have made me? Life is so unfair sometimes.
So there I was at the supermarket, casually adding scoops of cashews to my plastic bag, when a creepy old man sidled up, looked around, grabbed a big handful and pocketed them. I don't remember the combination of facial muscles that comprised my reaction, but it wouldn't have been good and part of me hopes that he didn't see. I'm not too fussed about people sampling a grape here and there to find out whether a whole bunch is worth buying, but for someone to rustle around in the bulk foods with their bare hands to clutch as big a handful as possible? It doesn't sit well with me, and conjures up all sorts of images of voracious bacteria multiplying under a powerful magnifying lens. Let alone remnant human waste and shedded skin cells... there are so many fundamental hygiene issues which rear their ugly head in my daily life.
Then of course I started wondering whether this man was one of those 'hidden pensioners' who is so poor that he resorts to eating dogfood and constructing a lunch from surplus supermarket produce. Which made me feel a little guilty. Still, the incident reminded me of horrible children with malformed social skills snatching toys while their friends aren't looking. And anything that reminds me of children must be regarded with suspicion.
And in a final confession, I succumbed. I now own the two Indigo Girls CDs, but I found them in a different store, two for $25! As if I was going to knock that back. It would be a cold day in hell...
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[Pass me a Thursday]posted by peter at 22:20 .......Tonight I attended a lovely performance of Bach's Missa Brevis in A Major at St Paul's in the city. This lushly orchestrated (so many strings!!) work was followed by a choral performance which didn't engage me so thoroughly.
It was the usual assortment of people, the old, the young; more people than I've ever seen at a worship service in that church. There were plenty of early university students who were still experimenting with their image. Lots of forays into boho which quite often ended up looking foho. And the guy with the floppy beret inspired by the flag of Jamaica? Well that was just mofo. (Especially when paired with the charcoal corduroy jacket.) But I don't blame them, we've all been there, I've worn pleated pants with vintage track jackets in the past, very lame.
I find that people display a sort of mirthful austerity at classical performances. It doesn't seem to matter which way you look in the interval, you're bound to see platinum-haired old men staring into the aether or scarf-toting young women displaying formidable poise behind dainty spectacles. Meanwhile the slim and skivvied speak earnestly above open programmes, their intense black eyes matched only by the wild gesticulations of a passing choir member.
Why would anyone bring children to a performance like this? Yuck. Naturally I ended up with them behind me, and their incessant scrabbling, whispering and crusty breathing brought a sort of revulsion to the proceedings. And their parents were so thick. It didn't seem to matter how many times I flashed a pointed glare or heaved an exasperated sigh, still they just let the children play. The rule of thumb is that unless they are unusually prodigious, children will ALWAYS be bored by classical music. People in general need to remember this.
Sally and I went to Williamstown today, and what a lovely neck of the woods it is. It also kept me well away from the evil dens of budget CDs. The usual array of alfresco cafes (some kitsch-o-rama) sits afront an expansive lawned area that affords lovely views across the bay to the distant city. Clearly some yachting culture is afoot, and there are a few too many tennis courts for my liking, but I can imagine lolling around there again, as long as it's not on a weekend.
Sally and I ate crepes and drank hot beverages next to plastic plants, and did the requisite jetty walk. My most enduring memory of the day was of a waitress in a nearby cafe looking directly at us in a sort of marching band fashion – that is with her head at a precise right-angle to her body. Her fluorescent yellow jacket completed the strange vision.
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[Build a collection]posted by peter at 19:07 .......Answer me this: can I justify buying four essential CDs (Indigo Girls Nomads, Indians, Saints and Swamp Ophelia; Icehouse Code Blue; Joni Mitchell Turbulent Indigo) for $15 each? I'm starting to think that I can. After all, despite being unemployed I still have a credit card.
Which brings me to my next point: I am so sick of people framing questions in the manner of "how can a person on Newstart afford to *insert activity, item, cost here*"? The answer is that a person on Newstart makes sacrifices that normal, socially acceptable workers don't think about. And in my case, before I began receiving Newstart allowance I was getting well paid and built substantial savings. These savings are, as far as I'm concerned, disposable.
And in other news... I'd planned to fill my afternoon with a selection of culturally enriching activities in the CBD but I fell asleep on the couch. An exhibition of Russian artifacts had caught my eye, all from St Petersburg or something, but I didn't go despite my eventual arrival in the city. I investigated the site of a former art gallery which is now an unattractive construction zone, and also stepped through glass sliding doors to the sanctuary that is the State Library. However I wasn't interested in relinquishing my manbag (still an awful word) for the sake of a quick look around, so I cast a glare at the cloak room and skipped town.
Walking, walking, walking, Melbourne seems to be in a dynamic equilibrium of construction and destruction; I once counted fourteen cranes on the skyline. Always something happening, you turn your head for five seconds and another structure emerges or another landmark is torn down. It was on this walk that I encountered one of those financially lethal cheap CD stores, and found the four titles I need. Tomorrow is another day... will I be tempted?
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[Die himmel über Melbourne]posted by peter at 20:16 .......Oh the city was so beautiful tonight, it was like walking in a Wim Wenders film. Dusk rolled in and with it came the fog. Tall buildings stood like luminous tombs, vast and silent sentinels above a grid of streets, dark shapes breathing the vapours. Reluctant fingers grasped fluttering coats, quick footsteps bore hunched figures through paths of mercury light. I would not have blinked, had the moon turned red or the stars fallen from the sky.
[Salad]posted by peter at 14:14 .......When one ventures to the markets, one expects to wade through the detritus of fresh produce. Feet are cushioned by a carpet of lettuce leaves and extra shock is occasionally absorbed by a stray tomato. I can handle pieces of lettuce, as gross as they are.
What one doesn't expect is to find a complete cut of meat, lying plaintively on the ground with fresh blood glistening and bone shards pointing skywards.
That I can't handle.
Yes I'm vegetarian and while very strict with my own diet, I'm pretty tolerant of what nearby people choose to have on their plates. I even coped with lamb's fry in close proximity the other night. I don't goad people about it – that's their right and they enjoy it and I'm glad they do. (I have to draw the line at marinara pasta though, the aroma makes me dry retch.)
But seeing freshly killed meat just lying around on the footpath is more than I can take on a sunny afternoon.
Excuse me while I flush that image from my mind... OK.
I'm hoping to reset my circadian rhythms, which have been masterfully scattered after weeks of routineless bliss. In a surge of biorhythmic vigour I've vowed to arise somewhere in the 7am range and retire somewhere in the 12:30 - 1:30am range, in order to restore some sense of order to my timeless existence. I hate routine but have to admit that there are some fundamental ones that really do need to be maintained.
A little while ago I enquired at a local hairdresser about the hair modelling thing they're advertising in their window. It's a common scheme in which you sign away your shining (or dull and matted as the case may be) filaments to some hairdressing apprentice who subsequently practises their cutting technique. But this place wanted to charge me $25 for the pleasure of going to a late session and being pawed over by a group of novices. They can help themselves, if it's a group thing it should be free; I'd have happily paid $25 if they were going to do it in the salon during the day. But from experience these things take ages and I don't like the group situation – I once got my hair cut in front of an audience in North Adelaide and it was most strange... but at least it was free.
The downside is that I'm still stuck with this shock of oddly-protruding curls. I think they're the only aspect of my person that is actually invigorated by humidity, everything else just fades away and slumps beneath the nearest air conditioner. Thank goodness it's so cold at the moment.
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[Force vector]posted by peter at 16:40 .......Variations on shared experience:
When I was a child in the country I would, like any other child, take everything at face value. Happy families, community spirit, candles in the churches, the cream-brick home for the aged, three good schools, amateur opera and Wednesday morning tennis. Bad things happened in the cities and notions of evil were informed by rented Hollywood blockbusters.
But, like everybody else, I grew up and my naivety unravelled. Rape. Suicide. Drug and alcohol abuse. Racism. Homophobia. Poverty. Violence. Scandalous affairs. Driving fatalities. I think everyone in my year level was affected by each of these, one way or another. Looking back, even more becomes apparent.
Nothing about this is unique.
And now I think about who has crawled away from that atomic community. A diaspora of tertiary students, rape victims, apprentices, 'faggots', intravenous drug users, wandering free spirits, TV personalities, bank managers and misunderstood individuals. Just like any other community.
I think the 'sheltered country life' is a myth. People there are subject to different manifestations of the same hells, all of which are usually rooted in human malice. In the country, just like anywhere else, people fashion their own methods of lessening their discomfort.
[Reggae, folk, bluegrass, bhangra]posted by peter at 13:31 .......Although I love seeing bands and enjoy many forms of live music, it has to be said that my preference in live performance lies with 'world music' (™). There's a strange allure about watching artists celebrate and thus keep alive their cultural traditions. The diversity of the performers often leads to a heightened fusion factor (which can be bad), and various cultural backgrounds lend exciting influences to the show. I find it tremendously engaging, and occasionally awful, but you take the good with the bad.
So, I'm proposing to anyone who might be interested that we set aside time for the next Womadelaide festival! Seriously, it's a great weekend and next year (March 5-7) it will coincide with the Adelaide Festival of Arts AND the Fringe, so it's an excellent time to be in Adelaide (which despite rumours to the contrary isn't a backward or boring place).
I think things will fall easily into place if I start planning and budgeting for it this far ahead. So, let me know if you want to come along! Come to your senses, come to South Australia, I think is what the campaign says. :) Just be prepared for the scorching, blistering, mirage-inducing dry heat of the Adelaide plains.
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[A big, big hello from Sarajevo]posted by peter at 22:46 .......Somehow, every year without fail, it seems that I manage to watch the Eurovision Song Contest. I never know when it's on, but nevertheless I end up watching it, quite often with people like Lisa, Sandra or Goss. This year was an exception because Melita had informed me of the Riga event several weeks ago.
So of course because I knew about it, I missed it.
Well, most of it. I saw about 20 minutes of the vote tallying process. It's a most amazing and surreal occasion; local celebrities glam it up for the night of nights, sarcastic Latvians (or Estonians or whoever the host country happens to be) direct the proceedings and stunned audiences grip shaking seats and observe the evershifting political alliances which shape the eventual winners. I don't know who won this time (Belgium was doing pretty well), but I saw a fair bit of bedhopping, particularly between neighbouring nations.
It's all a lot of fun and we don't let a bit of EU politics get in the way of a good time. Don't forget the Contest gave the world ABBA... you bear that in mind!!
Last night proved incredibly fun, but what else could I expect from an evening at Brooke's? We sat around in her eat-in kitchen drinking champagne and cleanskin wine (so much for the elitist McLaren Vale desires) and consuming a variety of foods. I made a terrific bruschetta based on Turkish bread brushed with olive oil and topped with fresh tomato, red onion and fresh basil. A liberal salting never goes astray and the result was tasty; a trio of dips formed a perfect accompaniment. Brooke whipped up a splendid leek and pumpkin soup and Jessica supplied a dessert of baklava (if someone can tell me the true pronunciation of that they'll get a gold star!). Kate, Marc and Mark were the remaining members of our vociferous group and perfectly completed the six-seater table.
Sonia's in town again, she stayed at my place last night but is back at the hotel tonight. We began the day with breakfast on Greville St:
This was followed by a quick trip to a sale of European designer clothing where I eyed off an $800 Prada jacket (as if) which would have been perfect for skiing, but clutched at sanity and subsequently lived vicariously by forcing Sonia to make a few wonderful yet less extravagant purchases. Already laden with plastic bags, we hopped on a tram and headed for Bridge Rd:
Shopping, shopping, shopping, you get the picture. Back to Chapel St, shopping, shopping, shopping. (All vicarious, although I did buy a Boost juice.)
She had to work so I met up with Jess, Dee and Rose on Brunswick St, shopping, shopping, shopping (not for me, although I almost bought a black scarf). I love the Fitzroy garden centre, I'm obsessed with cyclamen, don't mind the odd bromeliad and can even handle the ubiquitous phalaenopsis orchid (they always make me think of Meryl Streep, something to do with The hours combined with Adaptation).
Dinner at the perennially sensational Vegie Bar, then more coffee with Sonia. Oh it's so cold and damp, looked like the streetlights were showering the streets.
Just for your interest (and because my digital image obsession is in its last throes), this is the stencil on the front of my jacket:
So who won Eurovision?
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[Dying sun]posted by peter at 14:46 .......Last night was a lot of fun... dinner with a bunch of friends at the very richly coloured Windsor Castle hotel (and yes, when I say 'castle' it rhymes with 'parcel', not 'tassle'), I drank red wine on a very empty stomach but a midday movie will do that to you. More dessert at Globe and we discovered a tiny little bar behind it on a side street, which we'll definitely check out further. Though we had every intention of going to see these guys (thanks to Tom for the suggestion, they're mates of his), the sheer reality of my financial situation became starkly lucid and that coupled with a lack of enthusiasm to stay up until 3am (I'd imagine they would have only started playing then) sent us home in a slightly reluctant fashion. And oh Chapel St traffic is a nightmare on Friday nights, I don't know why we didn't just walk.
So, I've had visits from Brooke and Dan, and I'll be heading over to Brooke's a bit later for food and red wine. It's just such good weather for red wine, I think I'll try to hunt out a nice one from McLaren Vale, I'm so snobby but when you're from SA nothing else really makes the grade.
As promised the photo gallery continues, here I am at home looking a little miserable, I'm clearly a member of the stigmatised unemployed.
Yay, Sonia's visiting this weekend too, that'll cheer me up!
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[Allegorical]posted by peter at 15:48 .......Bad look #392: standing alone on a corner under a streetlight on a cold night, munging out on a plastic-wrapped meat pie.
Sorry, but it simply isn't a good look.
Which reminds me of the telephone survey I participated in the other day, as I am wont to do when some young telemarketer calls me up with desperation in his voice. It was all about soft drinks and seemed to go forever, but what made it 100% worthwhile was when, near the end, I was asked to rate various products on a 'coolness continuum' which started at 1: never cool, peaked at 4: at the height of cool and tapered off in an asymmetrical fashion to 6: has lost it's coolness. Oh my, I was in heaven... the arbiter of 'cool'... and thus my subjects were brought before me and behold, I pronounced my judgement. Which is only my right after all, as I am a self-appointed doyen of style and form, despite my flyaway hair and horrible navy parachute trackpants which I probably shouldn't have mentioned because they're shattering my (hallucinated) image.
Now really.
I saw The Matrix: Reloaded this morning/afternoon, and whilst it was an action-packed spectacle I think it became a bit misguided somewhere along the lines. Interestingly my final impression was better than that which I'd formed during the movie. I think it suffered from some significant flat spots and also lingered a little too long on some scenes. I couldn't help but feel that the fight scenes lacked the controlled beauty of the original (which are still no match for the magnificent Crouching tiger, hidden dragon), and I was absolutely certain that some of the action scenes degenerated into mindless violence.
Kyle said to me that it was like watching anime with real actors, and I have to agree. As always, Margaret provides a deft assessment, and I hadn't even read her review before seeing the film.
I couldn't help but notice that this movie attracted a certain audience (I can't wait for Terminator 3 by the way), predominantly annoying boys who couldn't pull off the Keanu look if they tried and who insisted on gesticulating wildly and producing mid-pubescent sound effects, I just don't have time for it anymore. And as for the chick who kept vibrating her foot on the seat back... well it connected to mine and I could have killed her when my deathly glares produced no lull in the irritating activity.
But it's a good film. Worth seeing for sure.
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[Trains and planes]posted by peter at 17:38 .......The truth is that I WILL go a bit berserk with photos over the next few days, but only until the novelty wears off. In the meantime bear with me!!
After a reluctant but successful extraction from my sleeping environment, I struggled to my feet, rushed around the house, boarded a train and caught the Skybus to the airport. Though this might seem a brainless thing to do, the reason for it was so I could meet the delightful Melita who was in transit en route from Canberra to Adelaide. This is Melita:
We lingered over mocha in a paper cup, better for the environment than creepy styrofoam but the drink itself was average. It was a bit of a catch-up session but was also filled with wild speculation over the future. Both of us are in a similar frame of mind at the moment (although subject to vastly different circumstances), in that we lack direction but are viewing it as an opportunity.
It seems appropriate to mention here that, predictably enough, I got no further with my job application after my dreadful interview. I'm glad I went through the process, but I was a little bemused by the tone of their refusal, part of which read: "There is however a benchmark that has been set by XXXX*the company*XXXX, and unfortunately on this occasion you have been unsuccessful." Thanks for that last little knock to my self-confidence, I'll just crawl back under the benchmark!! :) A simple "thanks but no" would have sufficed.
There are so many ideas floating around at the moment, but which one to clutch at? Melita and I had a good laugh and she told me about Latvian traditions and the sixty-dollar-bottles of red wine she consumed last night. We're forever getting mistaken for brother and sister, it didn't happen today but you can draw your own conclusions by comparisons with my somewhat demure photo below:
The inevitable boarding call must have sounded, but we didn't hear it and only knew it was time because we saw people exiting through gate 5. So we hugged and parted, she flew to Adelaide and I journeyed back through the postmodern sprawl of Melbourne's freeway system, a road replete with phallic and uterine references.
I took a train to West Footscray and met Sally. We lunched on a street somewhere and spent a languorous afternoon over many coffees and tasty treats:
Mmm, cake and bosoms, Sally might kill me if she sees this! Our conversation was diverse, peppered with self-analysis (surprise, surprise) and recollections of those long-gone but extremely eventful Jamestown days. Looking back at the past certainly can foster understanding of the present. We had to go and meet Other Sally, after which I parted and returned home.
Last night Jess and I baked an apple and walnut cake using many substituted ingredients, although the recipe apparently justified the purchase of a bottle of Bacardi. The cake mixture was unbelievable dense and the centre failed to bake, leading me to suspect that it would have been more suited to a ring tin. I'm of two minds about the result, there's certainly too much almond oil in it. Still, it was worth doing if only to discover the strange reality.
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[Happy snaps]posted by peter at 18:56 .......Undeterred by a tempestuous sky, I braved Chadstone fashion district (somehow arriving there using only public transport and unashamed questions to innocent bystanders) and bought a tiny Fuji low-end digital camera. It was only $150, which admittedly could have gone towards more practical purchases (a suit jacket springs to mind) but damn it why shouldn't I have what I want?
Anyway, here's a couple of test images... the resolution is predictably poor and there's no point using the camera in dim light, but it's still fun and seems to be producing some web-suitable output at this stage. It will be interesting to test out a few photos in the daylight tomorrow.
[Alliteration]posted by peter at 11:00 .......Mrs Maladroit nursed an aching malocclusion, but at least it was the attractive sort. Mulling over mulled wine, she rearranged the misaligned cushions to minimise any malformation. Maladaptive children scampered at her feet as she cast aside her ruminations and commenced a fervent daily routine. Much of her meandering was motivated by the mere mental mention of a steaming coffee and a sweet biscuit, and she set herself targets and strove for goals before allowing the treat. This simple ritual formed her only shelter from the family miasma. She felt so misunderstood, morose and moribund, and laboured long beneath clouds of melancholy. Clutching a feather duster she ignored the ringing phone, fearing that on a day such as this, every syllable she spoke would be misconstrued. Skirting the sideboard and missing the mantelpiece, she made the fatal misjudgement of allowing a brief glance at the blaring television. Stopping in her tracks, she stood transfixed and spent three motionless minutes mesmerised by morning programming.
(I couldn't resist such nonsense on this fine morning!)
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[Tell me about the organisation]posted by peter at 14:39 .......I was a victim of bad preparation in the interview today. (As if it’s not entirely my own fault!) Gradually, one by one, each question chipped away another bit of my façade, which is obviously what they are designed to do.
Actually I’m making it sound worse than it was. The interviewer was friendly and a little bit fun, and I answered the majority of the questions with some degree of clarity. She provided me with some very blunt feedback. All her points were entirely valid and will no doubt prove useful later on.
She told me that I need to wear a suit jacket. Like OK, I’ll use my Newstart allowance to run off and get one right now… I couldn’t believe it! I’m sure she’s right; it’s all about the right impression when making forays into the corporate world, but thank goodness I wore a shirt and tie at least, and didn’t go for the skivvy option.
Mike told me that one of my ties looked like something Carlos Santana would have worn in the 70’s, which didn’t really aid my pre-interview mindset. Needless to say, I chose a different tie.
Speaking of Newstart, it seems that every time I submit a form I encounter another recondite outcome... apparently my payment was cancelled again, apparently it's been fixed now. I can't wait to discover what abstruse piece of news will slide through my letterbox tomorrow.
Anyway, back to the interview, it was a bit so-so, but I'll hear something soon enough. And you'll be the first to know!
[Nervous system]posted by peter at 07:55 .......Imagine the horror of waking up and seeing evil shapes in the backyard! My 'bedroom' is in fact the rear living area of our house and it has large glass doors with no drapes or blinds, and thus it affords a clear view to the outside world. This is all very well until my tired brain decides to misinterpret visual information.
Our pleasant courtyard was transformed into a parallel universe, with the outstretched limbs of trees reaching greedily for the sky, dark silhouettes flanked by nocturnal clouds, wind chimes (creepy enough at the best of times) dancing above the sinister bulk of a bushy camellia, the spiky mesh of native foliage like a billion tiny daggers... I don't know what I thought it all was but it was horrible.
This sort of thing happens quite often, and it's always when I awaken suddenly. What makes it so bizarre is that I usually misinterpret 2D shapes as 3D objects. Patterns on the wall become shipwrecks projecting into the room, scattered patches of dappled streetlight become formidable metallic protrusions, dark shadows in the corners become timber beams in the empty space. And sometimes there are spiders.
It's all very weird, I don't deny it. I believe it's called hypnopompic hallucination, and is apparently a narcoleptic condition, although experiencing it does not necessarily mean you have narcolepsy (I don't). Worse still is the hypnopompic paralysis, wherein I awaken but cannot move or speak. Sometimes I can open my eyes and see things in the room but I can't actually move, or if I do manage to it involves enormous effort. The paralysis only lasts for a few seconds but it feels like an eternity. Now that I know what it's all about I just wait it out.
Soporific issues aside, I have my interview today. Of course it's raining, but on the bright side I'm armed with a bunch of tips from ex-recruitment-guru Deb, she's up there in Sydney wearing her A Bathing Ape tshirt and being all gloriously abundant with Autumn's harvest. (But never updating her website, the lazy sow, and in fact never going online so she won't read this which is disappointing.)
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[1, 2, 3, 4]posted by peter at 11:56 .......I will absolutely be structuring this post as a list, there's no doubt about it, but I'll keep it subtle as there's something uncouth about great big dot points.
- I'm listening to Manitoba. The album is called Start breaking my heart.
- It's dad's 64th birthday!
- Hannah has a very cute new layout.
- I'm drinking green tea out of a mug with a lucky cat (left paw raised) printed on it. Pippa gave it to me before I left for Melbourne. On the subject of Pippa, she has a lovely collection of photos here, do have a look!
- I still have an inappropriate configuration for my ugly desktop computer. At the moment the box and the monitor are sitting on a coffee table looking all beige and unattractive, and I'm typing with the keyboard on my lap whilst sitting on a beanbag made of gun metal blue coloured fabric. I shudder to think what this setup is doing to my spine.
- I have no idea what my official typing speed is, but it would be pretty high by now.
- My pronunciation of words such as 'plant', 'dance' and 'castle' is typically South Australian. That is, I sound the 'a' in the same way as you do when saying the word 'arm'. I think in this city I'm sometimes mistaken for a Brit... Kate's experienced this too; she once offered someone a coffee and they responded with "how long you here for luv?"
- Against all odds, I cling to the hope that my clothes may actually dry, eventually. Thank goodness we have a dryer, but I prefer not to use it if at all possible. Seriously, nothing dries here!! There's no escaping the pervasive moisture. It's ridiculous: as well as being utterly inconvenient, it promotes all sorts of mould growth. Perhaps this problem will be lessened when it becomes cold enough to crank up the central heating.
- I really like The White Stripes. Their album Elephant is really cool.
- I never iron clothes, which is problematic because the shirt I'll probably wear to my interview is all creased from weeks spent crushed up in a plastic bag.
- With a little luck I'll still make it to the snow this year.
- We have a lot of junk in our backyard from a former flatmate. We keep hassling him to come and pick it up and he keeps saying he will but he never does. Perhaps we should just throw it down the railway cutting.
- I'm spouting banal information for the sake of it. It's like one of those stupid emails where you have to answer 20 questions and then send it to 10 friends including the person who originally sent it to you. Really lame, but often strangely fascinating.
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[ *#$! ]posted by peter at 22:48 .......I don't have the answers.
Too many crap things happened today. The washing racks kept blowing over and dumping neatly arranged rows of clean garments onto the wet, dirty brickwork. Every shop I needed was closed, and here I was thinking it was a 24/7 world. Strong gusts of wind blasted my hair upwards and outwards, and thus I inadvertently brought some Wham factor back to Toorak Rd. I took the wrong path by the wrong train line, which necessitated significant backtracking. My shoes made my feet hurt, clearly they were designed by highschool dropouts with no podiatric qualifications whatsoever. I found out that a close friend has experienced the disintegration of her relationship.
Add this to the fact that yesterday the TV blew up (of it's own accord) and I also tipped half of my freshly-cooked pasta onto the kitchen floor (this evening the same thing very nearly happened to my stir-fry)... you might be getting a good idea of what's been going on. I felt like smashing the saucepan through the kitchen window.
Bad, bad, bad. Anyway I've had a nice evening; I chilled out with Kate, Marc and Mark, then chatted to some friends on the phone before finding out about Jess and Mike's adventures in the Grampians. The soundtrack to In the mood for love is currently proving immensely soothing (after the hip-hop session beforehand, Jurassic 5 and the like).
I reckon this might have been one of those defining weekends; it will stay with me one way or another. Either that or I'll deliberately forget about it. I've been so grumpy!!
Everything seemed to slow down tonight, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Damp streets under black skies, cold air pierced by streetlights. The dirge-like melody of passing cars, the skittering beat of footsteps. Quavers and rests on a staff of tall buildings, falling faint in the long shadows of a looming treble clef.
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[Little fluffy clouds]posted by peter at 17:42 .......Bad Singapore noodles can be made by stirring a stock cube through vegetables and rice noodles. I found this out last night with the contents of my takeaway box. Just awful. Still, the night went well and after a few beers we ended up dancing to some very camp anthems until the early hours. When good music is not forthcoming you just have to make do with what you get. The 5am bedtime resulted in a large swathe being cut out of today, which I always resent hence my preference for getting home at more reasonable hours.
This afternoon I enjoyed the delightful company of Brooke... we hopped in her funky green retro car (don't ask me what make or model), cranked up some hits from the seventies (we claim these tunes even though we weren't around to see them in) and hit Bridge Rd and St Kilda. Only the latter provided retail success, and we both made purchases from the Acland St Hunter Gatherer store. Brooke's a fascinating girl... so fun and interesting and stylish and then you find out she races cars, like, participates in real races. She dons a helmet, gets in a specially altered car – no glass or anything, apparently that's too dangerous – and races around a track, bumping other vehicles and so on. Unthinkably weird. She told me to respect her passion and went on to explain that what she loves most is beating testosterone-laced men to the checkered flag. As I said, a fabulous girl.
Oh before I forget: after yesterday's lunchtime in the city I stand by my claims about joggers. Yuck, will nothing deter them, what are they thinking?
OK, I have a job interview on Tuesday, and I think I'm going to need to dress corporate. The question is, since I refuse to buy new clothes for it and therefore must source garments from my stash (all over 6 years old), should I go for the pin-stripe shirt with dark blue stripes on a light background, or the light blue shirt which appears essentially one colour despite minute patterning on the fabric? I've got a reasonable tie and decent shoes but I'm also tossing up between black or navy pants. Honestly I'm not even sure I would want this job as it seems suspiciously soul-sapping. Maybe I should work on the principle that if I can't wear brown corduroy pants and a black skivvy to the interview then I don't want the job. Sadly beggars can't be choosers.
And now for an excerpt from an email I sent mum and dad the other day, please overlook lack of correct grammar etc, it's how I do emails:
"something is telling me that this melbourne thing will not be long-term – at least not this time. for some reason i feel another move is imminent, and i don't mean back to adelaide. of course if i suddenly get a job it will be a different story. i don't know why but i can't face the concept of stability right now and whilst it's hard to leave friends and relatives and whatever i'm finding it equally hard to make any plans to stay somewhere for a long time. maybe i'm searching for something or maybe i'm running away from fits of depression, anyway i think i have to keep moving at this point in my life.
i just can't slip into the traditional australian dream... a generic corporate job, car, family and 3br house on a 1/4 acre block in the suburbs just won't do it for me. in fact i suspect it's a dysfunctional notion at the best of times and actually fails for the vast majority, so why strive for it?"
So there's a little window into my frame of mind. Let me emphasise the fact that I'm not seeking to devalue other people's choices or experiences – what suits one person doesn't have to suit another. I simply resent the fact that from primary school onwards we seem to be channeled towards a specific, 'desired' outcome. (Which quite often doesn't eventuate anyway, so what am I rebelling against?)
Maybe I'm just kidding myself when I say I can do it differently. It's much easier to jump in the river and swim downstream and I'm sure I'd have a nice-enough life, but as Joni Mitchell said, "the grind is so ungrateful". Oh, I should go... really I should be researching for my job interview but I just can't be bothered with the preparation right now. I'll probably be in Borders later on with a large cappuccino, reading about Tokyo or New York. It's interesting being a member of the stigmatised unemployed; it takes a lot of willpower to get it together. Give it a go sometime.
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[Immigrate]posted by peter at 17:47 .......So there I was late last night... having satisfied myself with the privacy policy I began entering my details into the US Green Card Lottery website. It was only after I'd submitted the first page of personal information that I was informed that, oh sorry we forgot, it costs $30 per entry but you get a discount if you enter more than once. Like, what? So I decided to think about it and closed the browser. I'll probably still enter later on, as an unlikely win would make the intended New York move so very much easier. I still find it hard to believe that such an immigration system exists in the world; it seems laughably bizarre. Surreal even. But that's part of what makes the US so intriguing.
Addendum: despite considering myself to be fairly Net-savvy, it seems that I was nearly scammed by this site. Now the task of sifting the real information from the fake presents itself.
Maybe Australia could play Dice Man with our illegal immigrants – hand out dice in the detention centres... if you throw a six you can stay but if not you'll get sent to New Zealand or some other pacific island. Actually I'd take NZ any day, if only it had a bigger city somewhere.
We visited the Sallys last night, watched My big fat Greek wedding (which I actually loved), played with their dog and cats, extracted information regarding their wedding plans, ate pizza and generally slothed about (in between borderline-unwelcome bursts of energy from their enthusiastic dog). Lots of fun. Jessica collected Mike from the airport and then we drove back home via the Westgate bridge... the height of the structure afforded a breathtaking view of city lights thinly veiled behind lingering mist. Lives come to an end but the city keeps going.
Today Kate and I lunched with Brooke at Hell's Kitchen in Degraves St before hitting the Chadstone shopping centre. Oh they call it the fashion centre of the fashion capital, I'd seen a creepy video on the Skybus extolling the architecture ("check out the amaazing architechaaaaa" gushed the articulate ockeress) but let's not get carried away it's a suburban shopping centre after all. Maybe if you squinted through sunglasses and hallucinated you could pretend it was a Frank Lloyd Wright masterpiece, but it would be a vast stretch of the imagination. The whole place is not really my cup of tea but it's nice to go for a drive beneath golden leaves.
Kate bought some arm socks and she let/made me try them on... they're a bit of an Avril festival but you have to forget about that. Kate keeps it real so she'll pull it off, and she insists that I could do it with some of my outfits but I have my doubts. No journey to a 'fashion centre' would be complete without a stylish purchase and a fruit smoothie.
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[A vote for me is a...]posted by peter at 09:54 .......I'm sorry, but a tax cut of $4 per week just doesn't sit well with me. That's not even enough to buy a large coffee at Borders. Maybe I'm clutching too tightly to a single-person's perspective, but an extra $200 a year seems a miniscule benefit at the expense of funding to hospitals, schools, higher education and so on. I know these are the traditional targets of political rhetoric but that doesn't diminish their importance.
And as for the continuing slaughter of the higher education system, well I'm certainly thinking twice about any postgraduate study. I currently have a HECS debt of about $25,000 and my payments ain't making any inroads because every year the debt gets indexed in accordance with the CPI, thereby swamping any ground I've made with the addition of hundreds and hundreds of dollars to the bill. And tertiary study is becoming even more expensive.
Don't tell me this isn't a disincentive for people from lower socio-economic backgrounds. University education in Australia is quickly vaporising into a poor-person's dream while becoming a catalogue of idle pastimes for the bored rich. You can be a lawyer just like daddy! Just one more investment property, a second hand BMW and a fat allowance... we'll keep the clever country dream alive!
Hey Chel, I think I'm a socialist.
Lately I've withdrawn from life's complications, but ignorance isn't bliss and I've a niggling suspicion that something is passing me by. Down here in the radio silence it's also a TV news black spot and I'm missing out on the analysis. Misinformation pervades like dope smoke blowing through an open doorway.
As Lauren Bacall said, "you know what you learn if you're a New Yorker? The world doesn't owe you a damn thing."
And as Amy Ray said, "as we consume more and more, we will become a big insatiable monster, disguised as a benevolent dictator of the world."
Maybe all aspects of life can be positioned on a continuum with film noir actresses on one side and folk musicians on the other.
Cellar door.
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[Tropical days]posted by peter at 09:40 .......My worst traffic experience occurred in Fiji when we were travelling along the North coast road. Having careered into speed bumps and narrowly missed a few nonchalant cows, we subsequently hit a person.
It was just so awful; our driver was travelling too fast through a small village, and a young woman there was intent on reaching a bus on the other side of the road. She stepped out in front of our van, metal inevitably hit flesh and she was flung forwards, rolling several times before sprawling out on the bitumen and convulsing.
Things sort of fell apart after that... amidst all manner of first aid violations our vehicle was surrounded by furious and traumatised villagers, the driver was dragged from the vehicle, chased down the highway, knocked to the ground with a piece of wood and savagely beaten. Kicked, punched and hit with available timber.
I'm struggling to recall the events that followed, no doubt we were all in some sort of shock. I know the girl was taken to hospital and we ended up at a humid police station for a couple of hours.
Word did reach us that she survived.
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[I like to spend]posted by peter at 08:53 .......Whilst I don't doubt that advertising hits a subliminal mark, it's rare for me to be consciously affected by a campaign. One exception is the current Nokia ad. You know, the one with the powerlines and the music that sounds like a Scandinavian a cappella group being reworked by a Scandinavian electronica artist. There's something about the nature and juxtaposition of the imagery that really wins me over.
In much the same way I loved that series of Sony advertisements in which an eccentric Japanese girl grew mammoth tomatoes, a wide-eyed Rose Byrne recorded the sounds of mythical sirens and a high-definition TV assisted a fisherman in a tiny boat.
I own products by both Nokia and Sony, so I suppose their campaigns were successful in some small way.
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[Continuum]posted by peter at 17:43 .......Can emotions permeate an online community? Do cycles and rhythms arise even across indefinable and borderless space?
Today for a few minutes I thought things were slipping. A schism of reason and incoherence, the pounding blur of panic, synaptic scintillation. Fear flies on black wings that cast cold shadows.
I'm fascinated by manifestations of depression; my last job was, whilst technically oriented, centred around the promotion of positive mental health. It prompted me to read, learn and think. Which is more than halfway towards understanding.
[Farewells]posted by peter at 11:53 .......Thanks to the obscene generosity of Sonia and Lisa I now have a very cool navy blue Zoo York jacket with a skull and crossbones stencilled on the front. Ah, late birthday gifts... keep 'em coming I say. Sadly the said girls are en route to the airport and I'm left with the reality of having to sort out another piece of Centrelink esotericism. How are you spending your afternoon? :)
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[Mother's day]posted by peter at 22:26 .......Just in case it's not 100% clear, I thought I should point out that I've not paid a cent towards any of the hotel stays described on this website. How it works is that I have relatives who get to stay in nice places when they travel for work or whatever, and conveniently enough they've been coming to Melbourne lately. It's been fun. So I haven't entirely set out to lead the life of a complete Melbourne wanker.
The Mornington Peninsula formed an enticing destination today, and we leisurely explored Sorrento although my lack of stamina seems to be getting more and more of a problem. Homewares/giftware/books/bric-a-brac/local arts and crafts really take it out of me, let alone the inevitable Tina Arena associations, beneath the sweet Sorrento moon, no I'm not a fan.
Back in the city we had a dinner of tapas at the yummy Barcelona restaurant in St Kilda, then visited the Richmond Ikea which was far less busy than last time and therefore 400 times more enjoyable (apart from Jess ditching cushions at me from across significant floorspace and the frustration incurred from the fact that they don't sell any pots with holes in the bottom, like how am I meant to plant my Spring bulbs??).
Then we got dessert from Globe. Yum.
Another morning of fun tomorrow, and then reality must set in: I have to apply for at least 8 jobs this week in addition to biting the bullet and doing something about my hair.
[Where to next?]posted by peter at 00:39 .......Another day, another boutique hotel, honestly this is becoming ridiculous. Last night I stayed at the uber-funky Tolarno Hotel on Fitzroy Street in St Kilda. Occupying a penthouse apartment, we didn't want for much and lounged about in the two-bedroom suite. It was a bit of a riot of colour really; apparently each room is unique and is evidently built around featured artwork that adorns the walls. Our apartment contained large canvases with plenty of minge, all a bit confronting though inevitably viewed in a disinterested sort of way. As Nicole said at the Academy Awards, art is important.
I never realised you could squeeze two or three feature walls into a single room, but this place pulled it off really well. I actually loved the interior design, though couldn't really live with the fuschia. Perhaps a tuscan red? I don't know.
Their use of recycled furniture was encouraging in that it reinforced the fact that great things can be achieved with modest investment. Mind you, with the retro revolution we're seeing prices for 50's dining tables skyrocketing and filthy old chairs in bad need of re-upholstering selling for hundreds of dollars, so it's not necessarily as budget-conscious as it might seem.
Apart from the inadequate kitchen (fair enough; ideal for a hotel context), it was almost a perfect apartment. Admittedly one might lose their mind after a time and reach for a paint can brimming with neutral tones.
Sonia arrived in this fair city at about midday and spent an inordinate amount of time on some sort of airport bus. She finally reached the hotel and we (myself, Lisa and Jess) ventured out into St Kilda. Sometimes a lentil burger is so perfect it's ridiculous. Then back to my house before dinner on Lygon St (where two of Sonia's friends joined us for a short time) and then over to Brunswick St. Fun, fun, fun, I feel nauseous. All up I think I spent about an hour in taxis today, which is just so absurd. Luckily I got my previous bond refunded, so that's contributing further towards my living expenses... for a time. :)
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[Take yer umbrella]posted by peter at 16:49 .......Lisa is here and Sonia arrives tomorrow... another weekend of fun begins to unravel.
Much time was spent in the city today and as a result I've located two vegetarian eateries on Swanston St. I also registered with an employment agency and despite their best efforts they failed to convince me that they have my best interests at heart. I'm just another blue pen stroke on the funding roll-call, and never expected to be anything different. I don't respond well to affectation. Still the guy was friendly and despite inappropriate attempts at humour (ie. "we're a team of *slight pause* professionals, hehe *smirk*") that served no reassuring purpose whatsoever I ended up being processed and made my way down to the autumnal street.
As for the squeaky shoes, well the problem must have been caused by the socks. The pair I wore today were of a different fabric and did not permit any annoying squelching sound to emanate from my sneakers.
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[Vegan shoes]posted by peter at 13:51 .......Don't get me wrong, I love my new sneakers. They are beige (sort of a feature wall colour) Adidas canvas shoes with white stripes and white rubber soles – very cool even if I do say so myself. It's just that I can't walk anywhere without them making squelching sounds. Whilst this matters little on major public thoroughfares, when I'm browsing the video store or wandering leisurely through The Essential Ingredient I do not appreciate having every movement accompanied by an audible squelch.
Maybe it's the socks I'm wearing, maybe it's a feature of the shoes in their new state. Hopefully it will subside as I 'wear them in' a bit more.
Against terrible adversity, hope still remains.
I rang Sally & Sally this morning, and Other Sally answered the phone with a cursory "I know, I'm leaving now!!!" Hehe, very amusing particularly with my somewhat astonished response. Anyway I got a quick word in with My Sally and we arranged to catch up next Thursday. Now the details are recorded in the book of ages and there's no getting out of it. I can't believe how little I've seen of the Sallys given that we now live in the same city, but that will just make the times when we do catch up even more enjoyable!
[Sugar milk]posted by peter at 09:32 .......When I was in New Zealand I raved about the ubiquitous bowls of latte. It seemed that every which way you turned there was another hip cafe serving these huge, socially responsible beverages. Well, I've now found them in Melbourne! Indeed, the Chapel St Borders cafe does a huge latte (or cappuccino which is my current preference, lattes are so late 90s) in a mug that is essentially a bowl with a handle and must easily be more than two standard cups. All this for $4.10, like why aren't I there right now? How bloody excellent.
Today's becoming one of those limbo days where plans fall through existential sieves onto polymorphous kitchen surfaces only to be dissected, dessicated and stored. Meanwhile new ideas push slender shoots through fecund soil and produce vigorous blooms above brightly painted containers, oh this metaphorical trash is just like being in high school all over again.
'Fecund' must be one of the worst words in the English language.
What this all means is that I'm left with another day that will unfold as it will, devoid of appointments, devoid of responsibility, devoid of disposable income. Yes I'm keeping an eye on the employment websites but I still don't think I'm mentally stalwart. (Luckily I'm going to Soul Mama tonight!)
It was only yesterday that I finally realised/admitted I'm longing for places that exist only in my imagination. Over the years I've envisaged and constructed fictitious scenes, settings and scenarios, and somehow convinced myself they're from another time, another place. I even associate a 'feel' or ambience with these places. The fact of the matter is that they were derived from American sitcoms and repeat movies, and maybe the odd issue of National Geographic. Like a living literary device where melancholy is imbued in a text through reflections on the passing of an age and the fading of former glories; an idealised past and a desolate future.
So there's the old woman on the park bench in rural Australia. Her small, hunched frame speaks a thousand memories and projects black and white motion pictures onto the cerulean sky. But none of it's real... I've imposed it all based on my own experience and my own stereotypical attitudes towards country living. And yes I let it get me down, which is ridiculous.
Sometimes I wonder if my obsession with travel is in part fueled by a search for these unattainable, conceptualised places. Is this the same for everyone or am I just unusually self-centred? It just reinforces the fact that it is important to be informed by the past, and it's worth planning for the future... but life happens in the present.
PS. I actually never add sugar to hot drinks and certainly don't add milk to tea. And I don't drink sugar milk.
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[Two cups of]posted by peter at 15:56 .......I had a real hankering to supply a delicious and deceptively simple recipe today, but it's not going to happen. I've been reflecting on how little motivation I've had for cooking lately. Oh sure I've been trying the odd new thing but the trouble is I'm still treating my unemployment like a holiday and thus I put food preparation on hold. I mean, after all, when you're on holidays you have to dine out nearly every night, don't you? Anyway, all is not lost as this admission is proving self-actualising and highly motivating, so no doubt it will be back to the kitchen soon. Just like Martha Stewart.
As far as I can recall I haven't mentioned that I'm becoming a bit of a regular at the groovy Globe cafe on Chapel St. I've been there with Sonia, I've taken mum there, maybe even Lisa (searches memory recesses, still uncertain), but anyway Jess and I dined there on Saturday night. I had delicious polenta cakes piled high with roast vegetables, and she consumed an attractively presented mezze platter. Jairus and Shannon joined us for dessert, and I think this is where Globe really comes into it's own – they always seem to have the most amazing assortment of incomprehensibly appetising cakes. Once one's eyes survey the selection of generously-proportioned chocolate-adorned baked goods, well, a main course kind of takes the back seat. The four of us each tried something different, but the bread and butter pudding proved the eventual winner.
Hmm, seems the cafes in this area are gradually sneaking their coffee prices up to $2.80, no sir I don't like it but it's the Adelaide way so I'll learn to cope when it happens in Melbourne. I still don't think a squaa coffee should cost more than $2.50. Thankfully there are scores of fine establishments in this city (particularly in those delightful laneways) who still recognise and honour this notion.
Finally, in between watching The others (again, gee I love 'our Nic') and being generally unemployed, I assembled and uploaded new content to the design section and the flash section (N1 and N2). So, go marvel at indulgent crap.
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[Misrepresented]posted by peter at 15:02 .......Yuck, did anyone else see that horrible propaganda depicting John Howard being honoured at the Superbowl or some such sporting venue? The footage depicted a host of shrieking Americans, and I'm led to believe that Bush called Howard a 'man of steel' or something. One thinks the spectators were probably more excited about the impending game, like John Who? I didn't see the whole story but I nearly vomited when I saw our smug PM beaming on the giant LCD. Someone pass me another free trade agreement... oh and bring on North Korea.
So many revolting people, so little time.
[Fair and tender]posted by peter at 14:56 .......A database fails and forty thousand people lose their souls. The government declares a national day of mourning. Thin wires tremble and a binary stalker terminates another terrified scream. Twisted concrete flyovers cut an ancient fence and bear rumbling laughter above the perimeter wall. Rolled up banknotes and a quantity of cocaine move from one sweaty pair of hands to another. Darkness aids the undercover in a public restroom. A quickening step catches the green light and stills the whisper of evil things moving under trees.
[Mark the calendar]posted by peter at 10:11 .......Thank goodness I discovered that SBS is screening The dreamlife of angels at 10pm tomorrow night. I'd urge you to watch it if you can... it truly is a wonderful film, and one of the most memorable pieces of French cinema I've ever seen.
And could it be that Chris is finally launching a long-awaited website? We can only hope.
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[A room full of business shirts]posted by peter at 15:50 .......Richard got married to a figure skater, and he bought her a dishwasher and a coffee percolater.
I've just wasted valuable hours of my life attending a non-compulsory information session for a graduate intake I'm half-heartedly applying for. Given my lackadaisical attitude towards the whole process I'm surprised I've come this far, but there you go. Apparently my ability to recognise geometric patterns and derive meaning from esoteric narrative fragments (which I might add was independently assessed in Sydney when I was there last week) bears more weight than my tendency towards talkativeness and my absolute lack of ambition in any field except travel. The wonders of modern psychological profiling, who would ever have thought?
Look, I just want to live in New York City. That's all it really comes down to. Isn't there someone I can tell this to who will subsequently say "oh sure, wait there while I get the paperwork"? Why do I have to go through this rigmarole of finding some generic job and slipping into the office set? After work drinks on Friday anyone? Excuse me while I climb the corporate ladder, don't interrupt me – I'm networking.
It's not my intention to devalue such jobs, I don't want to do that. It's just that there seems to be no end to the trend of career consumption, wherein long hours and sheer drudgery sap the psyche until the only semblance of life is the distorted reflection of a lurid (and quite possibly zany) neck tie in a plate glass window. According to an article I read in the Virgin Blue in-flight magazine, the new wave of young and interesting people are sacrificing workplace advancement and financial gain in exchange for a more lifestyle-oriented existence (read into that what you will), and to be honest I think I'm a subscriber. Hear that? I THINK I'M A SUBSCRIBER!!
Directing energies into other pursuits is not akin to laziness.
In other news, I formed the apex in the trajectories of two massive infant-pushers in the city earlier; I was lucky to escape with my life. Seriously, some Melbournians would do well to take a leaf from the friendliness book... and have I mentioned I'm never having children? Two or three children abreast on a sidewalk, isn't that illegal or something? I'm going to go, because insane concepts are entering my mind. Stay tuned... next time I'll elaborate on my obsession with biopsy needles.
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[23 | 2003]posted by peter at 20:56 .......Well you'll be pleased to know that I had a super birthday. I was up early for the anticipated call from my parents, of course they woke me up but I reckon I bluffed them good and proper. Jessica serenaded me with a rousing 'happy birthday' and Kate greeted me with a shiny happy smile. Thus the mood was established.
After a brief sewing bee that was hampered by an inept machine (actually I just sat back and watched), we drove directly to Brunswick St. Taking an early lunch at Retro, I consumed a lovely risotto with pumpkin, red onion and caramelised pistachios. My interpretation of the latter ingredient was different to the chef's, and my meal arrived with large shards of toffee embedded in the arborio rice. Each shard encased a multitude of green-centred nuts. Though initially creepy (fusion-food springs to mind), this inclusion turned out to be an absolute winner, and I happily devoured the generous serve.
Stroll and stroll we did, gorgeous weather and shops open for business. I finally bought myself a manbag (that word looks horrible), let me clarify, it's just a chocolate-brown corduroy over-the-shoulder Mimco bag, not too camp or anything, just full of versatility and a striking accompaniment to any outfit. Or whatever. Jess bought me a membership to the Palace cinemas club thing, knowing full well that she would derive significant benefit from such a gift, and Kate bought me a loofah, oh I couldn't have been happier. I'm still waiting for other presents, my parents assure me that something is on its way. I don't know if it will be 'young and interesting' but sometimes practicality must take precedence over superficiality.
Coffee, then back to Chapel and Greville Streets... the three of us had all hoped to find new sunglasses (naturally mine broke in the arid regions of Australia) but no such purchase eventuated.
Tonight we're just kicking back really. Jess baked us some individual chocolate babycake things from How to be a domestic goddess and they were a hit. I might seek out another as soon as I've posted this. Previously she'd cooked up a tantalising balsamic-dressed baked pumpkin and baby spinach salad, which eliminated any need for Chinese in a box. Jessica just told me she plans to have a wood oven one day, in addition to a suite of Miele appliances. The future looks bright.
Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes, both to the site and otherwise. You are all glorious.
[Twentythree]posted by peter at 00:20 .......23 and ambivalent.
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[The eve]posted by peter at 17:54 .......Here's a little bit more about Sydney.
It's my birthday tomorrow. I'm going to be 23.
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[Isolation]posted by peter at 18:56 .......On our road trip we passed through many small country towns. Many were not unlike Jamestown in South Australia, the township near which I spent my childhood.
In one such town I saw a little old lady sitting on a park bench in the sun, reading the local newspaper. While I know nothing of her history, I wondered whether she'd ever seen beyond the flat horizons that encircled her community. There's a dissertation in the making from this, but I'm in a Sydney Internet cafe at the moment and it is neither the time nor the place.
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