I Know You're Out There.

Your breath is fogging up the glass : )

The Eject Button

I've just edited a fascinating but utterly horrifying documentary about climate change in the northern hemisphere and its global implications - one of those pieces that makes you want to run out into the street screaming and gnashing your teeth. (Yes, if you're talented enough to be able to gnash your teeth with your mouth open, that is. Shut up!) Apart from the obvious environmental considerations, it brought two things to mind.

Firstly, that this planet isn't going to take any crap from us. If we generate too many people living too much in a mode that is incompatible with it (i.e. burning gross amounts of coal and oil), something will happen to kill us off until the levels are sustainable again. I remember someone - probably Mart, who knows about these things - telling me that if a naturally occurring population of animals grows beyond sustainable levels, an anxiety kicks in that leads to them fighting and killing each other. A bit like road rage taken to its ultimate conclusion. On, then, a massive scale, too much carbon monoxide etc in the air and the planet is going to reboot, killing us off in the process and removing the irritant from its system. We can't destroy the planet - it won't let us. We can only destroy ourselves.

Secondly, I appreciate the value of the media in kicking my environmental consience into gear, but I'd rather I didn't have the crap scared out of me by stuff I can do NOTHING about. I read somewhere that the problem with news now is that it alerts us to problems we are utterly helpless to rectify and so it just increases our anxiety. (I don't need any more anxiety, thank you very much.) Once upon a time, when news was only local, we would only hear about things that were within reach, and so could help with. (I'm not saying international news is bad, by the way - only that in some cases it may not serve the purpose it sets out to.) I consider myself a reasonably environmentally conscious gal - my latest panic is about how much bloody packaging I consume. Why can't I take reusable containers to the supermarket and just have them refilled with crushed tomatoes, face cream, cheese blah blah rather than throw out a packet every time I've made a bolognaise / hydrated myself / eaten 10 slices? Would anyone like to start a supermarket with me along these lines? But I'm not a climatic scientist. I can (and try) myself do the right things, but I'm not in a position to lead others or lobby for anything in particular. It could be there's nothing we can do, by the way. I need the guidance of those in the know and I DON'T need a BBC documentary to freak me out with scary music and grim predictions, interesting though they were.

Howl's Moving Castle

Easily one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Go and watch it.

Given my enthusiasm for animation, I don't know how I've escaped seeing any anime until now, but I was just enchanted by this - I think I might have found something to explore. I went with Jenny from work, who'd read the Diana Wynne Jones novel it was based on, and while she enjoyed the adaptation she said that the film gradually lost grip with the book as it progressed. Not having read it, that didn't bother me, and I managed to be delighted right up until the ending, which was rather syrupy. (That's what you get for being distributed by Buena Vista.)

If the style of this film is typical of anime (excuse my naivete) then it's perfectly suited to the fantasy novel - there's something about the cleanliness of the lines, the purity of the image that you just don't see in Western animation that really complements the genre. It's like being in King's Quest or something. Visually, it's just spectacular - I couldn't believe that so many intricate images and ideas could fit into one person's brain. And I never thought I could be put at the brink of tears by a turnip on a stick. Apart from the old Beauty and the Beast routine (which I'm still a sucker for) it has a very clear anti-war message. There's a lovely part where the main characters watch a battleship fly over their heads. Hopefully, she says, "Do you suppose it's one of ours?" He says, "What does it matter?" Quite.

I'll stop gushing now if you'll go and see it.

Machine Translations

Tired and vague after a long week, I don't suppose either of us really ought to have gone out last night, but in the end it did AJ and I the power of good to go along and see Machine Translations last night. I love the Troubadour. It's so relaxed, so intimate, so...brown. (Shut up, Lauren, it suits my colouring ; ) We collapsed into comfy chairs in a corner with a bottle of merlot and gradually...just...un...wouuuuuund. It was glorious, just what I needed.

I really enjoyed the gig. I bought the band's first CD, Happy, a few years ago for one track, which they seem disinclined to play live for me :( and their music will forever remind me of winding through fields in the Sunshine Coast hinterland, the sugar cane taller than the car. Since then I hadn't heard them on the radio not even realised they were touring until their lead singer showed up as a support act for another emerging band whose CD launch Banana and I were at a fortnight ago. Odd.

Anyway, they're a great act to see live - very distinct vocal style and marvellous female drummer and keyboardist to boot. The support artists were pretty interesting too - Chris Pickering, who did some interesting roots-influenced guitar and harmonica work, lovely voice - he did the drums on Kate Miller-Heidke's album, Neek - and a girl called Holly-something who really put our nerves on edge to begin with but turned out to have some beautifully-crafted lyrics and an accompanying cello, for which I had a real soft spot. They always seem to be very open performances in that venue - no room for poseurs if you can see the whites of their eyes.

Oh, what a difference a hyphen makes...

.. to a phrase like 'slicked back hair'! Very unfortunate caption.

This Week's Band Name

Is 'Fragrant Drains'. (Yes, Nadine, I wrote it down.)

Bumper, Dude

Does anyone know who the Goddess is and why she is dancing?
It's been puzzling me for ages.

Watch Me Closely

And you'll see that I'm a little solar lamp. All the time I'm with you I'm absorbing your voice, soaking up your energy, so that when I'm alone I can glow a little to myself.

I love wearing a shirt straight from the washing line when it still smells like sunshine.

And I can't even blame PMT...

Grr...one of those nipple-twistingly irritating afternoons.

I went to the gym. That, you might suggest, is sufficient grounds for an irritating afternoon. I shouldn't have gone, really, because there must still be a dinghyful of lurgy splashing around inside me, but on the outside all that's left is a sexy rasp (squeak), so I thought I was OK*. Alas, my fitness instructor was out for revenge after my piking on her last week, and as I left the Palais de Sweat my legs were so bloody wobbly I could hardly support myself and I felt vaguely nauseous.

But that wasn't really the problem. I went into the gym irritated because I was too lazy to catch the bus out to the uni this morning, and so keeping my appointment with Charlene Atlas and her Dynamic Tension meant finding somewhere to park Erik the Red, in the city, just before the clearways kick in. After an aborted attempt to masquerade as a Barina in a small car space at the uni I had to give up and park in the most bloody expensive carpark in the CBD to avoid being late. It's such a flagrant waste of money, borne of my own stubborn refusal to get out of bed and get organised, and it always makes me cross.

Anyway, post gym on jelly-pins I flob up to get my photos printed - the third time I've tried this week, at last I have it together with my USB stick IN my handbag WITH the right files on it - and they've taken the machine away! So frustrated I end up spending FOUR TIMES the original price in another store...and too late I discover Erik is going to eat up another hour's worth in the carpark before they're ready. Arggh!

I take myself down to Borders for a soothing browse...and discover the rare book I ordered from Amazon last week at great personal trouble and expense is frolicking there in discounted flocks. Grrr! What do I do to console myself at this unjustifiable expense? Ah, how well you know me - I BUY A CD, don't I?

Race back to the carpark and reunite with Erik just before the 3-hour levy kicks in. Ah, but it's peak hour, and the time limit comes and goes while I'm sitting in the CO3 wind tunnel with every other bastard driver this metropolis has to offer, and I have to hand over a small fortune to buy my freedom. Drive straight into knock-off time traffic and spend 40 minutes getting home - plenty of time to notice that half of my photos are blurry. Straight through the front door and a beer into the face - it's the only way : )

* Although I should've twigged yesterday at work on the intercom.

STUDIO 1: Studio 1 to Captions.

ME: Captions here.

STUDIO 1: Sending the update through now.

ME: We're right to go, thanks.

STUDIO 1: Thanks, Andrew. (!)

Drills

I think there's something peverse in my determination to ensure that the very first thing I eat after leaving the dentist's (and being frightened by all those tooth decay posters) is really unhealthy for my pearly whites. This morning the first thing down my gob as soon as the fluoride had worn off (by which I mean I'd managed to eat it all) was a chocolate muffin. Last time I'm pretty sure it was a Coke. You'd think I'd be able to maintain some semblance of virtue for at least the rest of the day. Rather defeats the purpose of subjecting myself to the drill in the first place.

Two Coffees Too Many

You live overseas
You've been dead for 30 years
You're my best friend's brother
You're sleeping with my mother
You're gay
I was accidentally rude to you
In the supermarket 18 months ago
And whoever I was you'll never forgive me - forgive me

I work nights and you work days
I went out with you at school - it was too early
I hate your stupid sportscar
I lost you in a crowded bar
And it turns out you're engaged
I sat next to you on the bus last week
But I was too busy playing with my phone

The sign
On the door
Of the office
Of destiny reads,
"Back in 5 minutes."

The Accidental Captioner

Is the name of this week's film.

In honour of an esteemed captioner (who shall remain nameless) who, after bitching bitterly and unrelentingly about the quality of a certain comedy program, discovered afterwards that she had opened the wrong video file and therefore captioned AN EPISODE THAT HAD ALREADY BEEN COMPLETED and now has to spend an entire shift doing the RIGHT ONE. That's karma for you!

Lovestruck - Part the Second

That was one hell of a tea break, wasn't it?
Not much of a segue, but there you are.

I went to a wedding the weekend before last. A lovely wedding, the wedding of a very old and dear friend, and the first of several weddings I am to attend this year. Must be something in the water. Not exactly breaking news, but I've been mulling over the whole concept of weddings and it's taken me this long to come to my conclusions.

Speaking only for myself, I don't think I want (another) one. Not a sour-grapes response, no, but I probably wouldn't have thought this deeply about things if my own hadn't crashed and/or burned. There are, in my humble
op-onion, some things wrong with your run-of-the-mill wedding. (I don't intend to offend anyone who is or intends to get married - these are just some thoughts. I had a great time at the wedding I went to and I'm desperately pleased for the bride and groom. I hope I find their kind of happiness.)

Firstly, you make vows that can, and all too frequently are, broken. I don't think anyone goes into a marriage intending to break their vows, but what's the point of making them when you can get out of them? What I mean is that just vowing something doesn't hold you to do it. Getting married doesn't keep you together - you've got to keep working at it. You don't need to make a vow, you need to LIVE it over every day. A wedding doesn't change anything about your relationship to each other - and I think once the ring's on the finger, a lot of people get LAZY.

Which leads me to my second point - given the nature of your standard relationship nowadays, how do you decide when to get married? Most couples who end up getting married have reached commitment point long before they walk down the aisle. My newlywed friends have a house, shared cars and a dog - they've only just got their rings. If, after that, you're going to publicly declare your love and devotion in the presence of those dear to you, can't the ceremony be developed more to reflect this? It's a confirmation, not a joining together, and I think that should be reflected in the nature of the accompanying shindig. You should have a 'we love each other' party...and then bugger off together to the Bahamas to reward yourselves for all your hard work. I think the gradual development of your connection to each other is a much more natural way to go about things than suddenly being thrust upon each other because you've got married. That must be bloody stressful.

Added to that - if it's a declaration of commitment, why can't gay couples get married? AND a lot of weddings are stressful and expensive - who wants to spend six months choosing coordinating napkins and tablecloths? AND I disagree with the idea that two people 'become one' - if anything's important, it's to hang on to yourself first, otherwise there's no way you can support someone else. AND I disagree with the idea of brides being given away. AND why don't fellas get engagement bands?

Give me barefoot on the beach and no speeches.
Sod prawn cocktails, give me all trust and no ring.

Deck the Halls

I was reading a Christmas decorations catalogue this afternoon. Sorry.
But afterwards, I realised I was singing. What was I unconsciously singing?

..two turtledoves, and a parsnip in a pear tree...

?

This Week's Band Name

Is 'The Percy Birds'. This week we also have a debut album - 'Revenge of the Percy Birds'.

Basic Instinct

Have you noticed that, even in the midst of the most frantic of pursuits, when the TV cop jumps out of the car to run after the baddie s/he always closes the car door before starting the chase?

It's Official

'Comedy Inc' is the WORST TV show in the history of transmission.

It's puerile.
It's lame.
It's downright offensive.
It makes me ashamed to be an Australian. No joke.
It's for people who laugh because someone says 'testicle'.

It confirms my belief that any comedy program which refers to humour in its title is doomed to failure.