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- a) they’re trying to find the question mark
- b) to get to the other side
- c) because they found themselves in an elephant cemetery*
Puddin’ Eatin’ Lot
Saturday, 19 April 2003
Dined on authentic pukka tucka created by Sir Honeybone and then feasted on exquisite chocolate pudding that Rie made (she had to call Sydney to get the recipe!). Thank god she did – it was sublime.
A grand night was had by all, whether our heads were photographically amputated or otherwise….
I also recieved presents from the Crime Fiction Fairy!
Divine Ya Ya
Saturday, 19 April 2003
Just finished The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood - it obsessed me. I read it in about three days. I don’t know whether it’s the kind of book I could recommend to the guys I know – it’s not really a ‘guy’ kind of book, but I’d recommend it anyway. I loved how it slipped between era’s and generations. The characters were intriging and sympathetic…I had my nose stuck in it at every opportunity over the last few days. Sometimes I venture outside the crime genre and am rewarded…
Don’t think I’ll see the movie though – I’m sure it would only detract from the book – movies usually do.
Clancy of the Overflow
Tuesday, 6 May 2003
I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just ‘on spec’ addressed as follows: ‘Clancy of The Overflow’.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(and I think the same was written with a thumbnail dipped in tar)
‘Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
“Clancy’s gone to Queensland droving, and we don’t know where he are.”
In my wild erratic fancy, visions came to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving ‘down the Cooper’ where the western drovers go
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover’s life has pleasures that the townfolk never know
And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and river on it’s bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads it’s foulness over all.
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet
And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.
And I somehow rather fancy that I’d like to trade with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cashbook and the journal-
But I doubt he’d suit the office, Clancy, of ‘The Overflow’.
Andrew Barton ‘Banjo’ Paterson
Pizza and Ken
Friday, 30 May 2003
Had dinner last night at Chez Honeybone where guest of honour was the rather affable Ken Bruen who’s been in Australia gracing the Sydney Writer’s Festival with his presence. Here’s Cam, Chris, Ken & Moi:
Lot’s of pizza and less beer (as it was a Thursday night)…Ken signed my book, which is v.exciting as I now am the proud owner of…wait for it….TWO SIGNED BOOKS. Yeah. I know. Startling stuff. Christine was my date as M is still sick, and we had a fine time until about 11:30pm when we all sloped off to our respective homes, except for Cam who, I understand, found a friendly mattress.
Today was supposed to be the day where I do a months worth of work in eight solid hours, after which I would have the weekend to recover (and work on the website project I’m doing for Women’s Health West) and then come in on Monday to tart it all up in preparation for the reappearance of the boss on Tuesday. Did I get one thing done? No. Was it my fault? Actually, no. The person, O, that I share the office with, had a super-deadline this afternoon and I had to spend all day proofing and editing the bloody thing. So now I’m going to be here til god knows when. Well, until my conscience lets me go home…which, at this rate, will be in the wee hours. What a fun Friday night. My third last one in Melbourne.
[Clutches head and goes into panic spasms.]
I need to buy a trailer, I need to buy a trailer.
Harry Harry Harry
Friday, 6 June 2003
Well, it’s nearly here! I remember reading the first two Harry Potters as ebooks on my Palm Pilot in an aeroplane about three years ago. Probably did my eyes irreparable damage. I think I would like to give myself a Harry Potter weekend, where I just set aside a few days to eat cheese and biscuits and read my way through the whole lot, finishing them off with the latest one.
Public Transportation
Thursday, 6 November 2003
Gave up on the Datsun from hell – but feel better about it as RACV man couldn’t fix the indicators either. Have ceased to be waif and stray latch-key child and spent last night at my mothers new pad. After walking the streets of Preston on Tuesday night, and pounding the streets of Balaclava yesterday evening with all my luggage, I was very relieved to get to my mums place (the dinner, salad and three kinds of cake were another positive feature).
Got the train from Hampton this morning and sat next to psycho woman (why is it always me that gets the public transport freakies?) Anyway, this woman laughed hysterically as she read her book from Brighton Beach to Flinders Street. I sat there, taking on the persona of ‘person sitting next to freak’ and feeling early morning it’s-still-not-Friday grumpy. Then I started to muse to myself about the only times I’ve cacked myself over a book while sitting on a train. It was when I was reading Bridget Jones – Edge of Reason. So, then I was desperate to discover what the hell this book is that has transformed this chick from boring co-traveller to hyena-girl. We hit Flinders Street and both start gathering our bits and pieces for the escalator stampede, and I delay just long enough to glimpse the title of the novel: Bridget Jones – Edge of Reason. Sometimes being so right is just weird.
24 Hour Read
Saturday, 29 November 2003
Was at the library yesterday and on the way out I picked up a copy of A Million Little Pieces by James Frey. I read the first 20 or so pages in the library and had to keep reading in a half voyeuristic/half intrigued way. It’s definitely not what I usually go for, but it was just an amazing read – kind of like watching a train wreck. I finished it a few hours ago – it’s not a short book, but I read it at every opportunity (mainly when going through countless reboots of this computer I’m currently using, which is almost up to scratch). It’s the kind of novel that I would never read if it was recommended to me by someone else, but because I stumbled on to it by accident, it grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and took me by surprise. Searing is maybe a word that would be a legitimate descriptor. Yike. Recommended to TKP.
Saintly Brother
Monday, 29 December 2003
*big grin*
Just got Christmas present from brother in the post – has made me very happy. Four Saint books for my collection and…all first editions! Plus the book derived, or germinated from one of my favourite sites! Oh happy day! I bet M is happy too, because usally a girlfriend with five hours sleep is similar to a tasmanian devil crossed with a ragdoll kitten….but I am all glee!
Now my other first edition will have some friends.
Mr Darcy
Wednesday, 7 January 2004
Have to mention that I finished off last nights Colin Firth theme by reading a story he wrote in Speaking with the Angel (taken from a Ron Sexsmith song), edited by Nick Hornby. I like his style! Not sure about anything else he may have written, but am now tempted to poke around and see what I discover. It is a great book – probably a pretty good present too, as it’s a collection of stories.
Antipathy broods on the home front at present, and not knowing anyone other than those that are related to the object of my extreme annoyance is a bit of a downer. *sigh*
On a positive note, my boss survived my first draft intact; has now sent me pages of suggestions – not all negative either. So that’s a relief.
Guilt and Wet Books
Sunday, 4 April 2004
It must be a product of my upbringing – feeling that staying inside the house all day is ‘bad’. Same as eating up everything on your plate – whether you’re full or not. Just stood at the window urging myself to go for a walk, after spending the day reading the paper, playing guitar, finishing Black Tide and filing all my bills and bank statements. Scintillating stuff. Fact is, I don’t feel like a walk. I would walk if I had some headphones – because I don’t feel like talking to anyone along the way, but I don’t. (Well, I have the headphones, but am Wi – Withough iPod – or walkman, or anything similar, for that matter).
A small tragedy. The other day M uncovered a few boxes that we’d left underneath the house. Would have been OK, except the pipe for our recently connected kitchen sink was buggered. Many of M’s sailing books are water damaged and fairly un-salvageable – I can’t even bear to see what of my books may have perished. Bought two 80 litre plastic storage bins for what has survived. I should have taken everything to my storage place, but I left some boxes behind; they wouldn’t fit in the van. Gah.
Scoresville
Saturday, 26 June 2004
Just what I needed. More books!
They set me back $2. Go the Tip Shop!
Reading List
Monday, 12 July 2004
Apparently I’m supposed to make bold all the books in this list that I’ve read and then add my own three book choices to the bottom. Then you steal it from me and use it on your site. From catsudon. I actually found it kind of interesting to scour the back of my mind for books that I remember reading when I was younger.
Book Mail
Monday, 6 September 2004
These arrived in the post today – improving my outlook immediately. The Patricia Cornwell – a very welcome package from Honeybone Inc. – I began at lunchtime. It’s so weird. I have rarely been more disconcerted by a book. She’s changed from first person to third person – it’s all “Scarpetta says this” and “Scarpetta saw that”. It makes it very hard going, but I am persevering. Apparently she did it in her last Scarpetta effort as well – I am yet to investigate the Saint magazine – it’s more for my Saint collection.
Teeth to Toast
Thursday, 23 September 2004
When talking to my Small Brother in the UK the other day, the topic of M’s SmallEye virus came up, and Small Brother said “Does he look like that guy in that picture book – you know, with the naggy horse and the squinting eye…?” and I knew exactly who he meant, but neither of us could remember the name. It took a couple of days, but as I was in the van with M and Chris the other day, driving along the interminable goat-trackesque Hervey Bay roads, I remembered. Mulga Bill!! I even remember some chunks of it to recite – but now I’ve come to read it I’ve realised that I’ve had Mulga Bill and another bushy kind of bloke intertwined into one in my head. Luckily I could remember three consectutive words from the unknown one ‘teeth to toast’. This was enough for Google, which found The Oath of Bad Brown Bill – it’s got fantastic illustrations and was one of my favourite picture books.
This is the ‘teeth to toast’ bit:
Right there and then he galloped off,
To find himself a ghost.
And that same night he saw a sight,
That turned his teeth to toast.
He’s come across a hideous ghoul,
Astride a rotten log.
It grinned a slimy, slippery grin,
And breathed a damp green fog.
…if you want to read the whole thing, I put it here for a bit.
A Pattern of Islands
Sunday, 7 November 2004
Am reading a great book recommended to me by M – another one of his ‘adventurous’ novels. It’s called A Pattern of Islands by Arthur Grimble (published in the US under the title We Chose The Islands). Although it was first written in 1952, it’s actually mostly set around his experiences as a cadet in the Gilbert and Ellice Islands in 1913 through to 1932. It’s a fantastic story, very humorously written. I’ve been eking it out all day because I don’t want to finish it too soon. I would list it on my allconsuming list, but of course, Amazon doesn’t list it. But if you want to get a copy – there are quite a few available here. He and his wife Olivia were married on March 5th, 1915 and set off the next day to the Central Pacific. I’ve felt rotten today, but it has made me laugh hugely at least three times – though the story he tells about three and a half inch cockroaches on the ship on the way to the islands gnawing off the thick skin of his feet while he slept. Ugh.
How much can a Panda bear?
Monday, 24 January 2005
A copy of Eats, Shoots and Leaves arrived in the post today from the lovely Dylan and Rachael in Melbourne. M got some music cds. It was basically a care package to ensure our continued survival up here, away from all our friends, melting in the humidity. How nice is that? Very nice.
I have been hanging out to read this book a-g-e-s and the opening pages soothed my savage little faux literary soul. There is a ‘Shark Museum’ near to where we live, and the sign out the front reads:
No question mark. It drives me mad. M and I practice saying it as a statement to each other (something that is hard, when the ’statement’ begins with ‘why’). We try to say ‘themselves’ in a modulated, BBC kind of tone, but it’s hard. Before we leave Hervey Bay we are going to put that sign to rights.
Why Do Whales Beach Themselves
* ‘Elephant cemetery‘ is the colloquial term for Hervey Bay – because it’s where a lot of very old fat people come to die. I didn’t say it was pleasant.
In the Bag!
Tuesday, 1 February 2005
My new bag. Hand sewn and crocheted by the lovely Rie. It arrived in the post this morning…[swoon] I don’t know how she finds the time.
Also in the bag were some books from my book donor 
Entombed by Linda Fairstein (which I know is schlock, but I very much enjoy) and something called Retribution by someone called Jilliane Hoffman. As well as these, this morning is beautifully overcast and I have actually managed a cup of tea without dissolving into a pool of my own perspiration. Thank you for the care package D & R! Can’t think how much beer I must owe you now…
George P. Pelecanos
Sunday, 6 February 2005
I love George P. Pelecanos. I just spent the morning ekeing the last few chapters of Nick’s Trip. If you get into crime fiction, you should read it – I especially like all the music references that are all the way through it – Kirsty McColl, The La’s, The Replacements, The Clash – he even makes mention of the bassline from The Guns of Brixton, which is one of my all time favourites. I’m on an end-of-book high.
Publication
Friday, 18 February 2005
In the post today was my friend Marg’s new book The Catch. I almost died of excitement! The last time I saw it, it was a big bundle of typewritten pages with scribbles all over it. Now it has been transformed into, well, it’s a proper book. Look!
And I even got a signed copy, thanking me for my help on the ‘bridal scene’. Hooray!
Booky
Wednesday, 7 September 2005
Later I will post a picture of our room. It’s kind of like a library. Not only did M build three gorgeous bookshelves, but he found two more in a secondhand shop that matched them. Now we have five. All my books are finally unpacked (except all my plays – what am I going to do with them?) and very anally arranged in alphabetical order. I have a crime fiction section that occupies about eleven shelves! And I just began looking at LibraryThing with appraising eyes. I think I’m going to have to do it – after I wipe the hard drive on my laptop and start anew. If I can’t have a Mac, at least I can have a semi-zippy ThinkPad.
Note To Self: try to remember not to brandish around new announcements online before checking whether the family of the anouncees have been informed of said announcement [bangs head gently and repeatedly against wall]
Look Both Ways William McInnes
Tuesday, 13 September 2005
I feel somewhat inundated by the persona of William McInnes. I went from resenting him utterly a few years back for taking over the untakeable role of Diver Dan on Seachange, to realising, belatedly, that he actually did quite a good job of it. Then I saw him plugging his book, A Man’s Got to Have a Hobby, at the Melbourne Writer’s Festival. He made me cry laughing, multiple times – I bought his book on the basis of his reading of the section about Golan, the aggressive Christmas tree. He signed it for me, and asked whether I’d had an advent calendar when I was little. I had, I told him. Well, he said, if you liked Golan, you’ll proably like the bit about the advent calendar too. I was tempted to tell him that I lived around the corner from him for five years, but restrained myself and swooned away down the stairs.
I whizzed home in the Humber on an internal pillow of giggles, ignored an morose M, and sat on the bed for the next two hours, cackling my way through the book. I have no idea why I found it so funny (sorry William McInnes). The last time I laughed so much was at Bridget Jones: Edge of Reason. M finally growled at me, as I dried my eyes for the fifth time, “B, you’re getting a bit tedious.” I didn’t care. Much.
Last night we hit the Nova and saw Look Both Ways; the film written and directed by Sarah Watt (his wife) and starring him, naturally. It was fantastic. The animation worked beautifully, and reminded me of the workings of my own mind. The characters were all loosely connected in a web that pulled tighter as the movie progressed. I wish very much that I had seen the episode of Australian Story that focussed on him and his wife.
I highly recommend Look Both Ways, and I intend to see it again. Don’t wait for the DVD – it’s definitely a bigscreen exprerience.
The Rig
Sunday, 16 October 2005
It’s been too sunny to blog. Which isn’t exactly true. I spent most of Friday in the garden with myself in the sun, the laptop in the shade, researching my recording rig – which is proving to be quite frustrating. It seems that new motherboards appear all the time – I am trying to track down one that is recommended by Bob Lentini (who is the inventor of SawPro, SawStudio etc).
So, for the geeks out there, this is what I have so far come up with in regard to what I’m after.
Seagate 8M IDE 120g x 2
Asus P4C800-E Deluxe
Zalman CPU fan
1GB PC4200 DDR2 Corsair (2×512MB)
Matrox G450 DualHead video card (I know it’s old, I don’t care)
EMU 1820M
Coolermaster Real Power 450W Silent Power Supply
Intel P4-630 3.0G CPU 2MB Cache 775pin
GMC X-21 Trinity Case
Some CDRW
All I have so far is the EMU 1820M, which is the main thing. I am also thinking of an external hard drive usb case, but I’m a bit vague on what kind to get as I’m not sure what size normal Seagate IDE hard drives are… Am also wondering whether the CPU I have chosen is compatible with the motherboard, but it’s now midnight and I’m too tired to find out. Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow. Anyway, this is what has been occupying my brain for the past few days (as has Hell To Pay – a George P. Pelecanos novel which has held me spellbound for three days. It’s tres excellent…)
Happy Christmas, Small Brother – Sorry about the presents
Sunday, 25 December 2005
Dear Small Brother,
How are things in London? Much to my disgust, my attempts to get you something for Christmas have been thwarted from the outset. Or nearly. I ordered you the Calvin and Hobbes Complete Collection from amazon.co.uk – bastards. They let me think that I was an organised and useful relation to you for at least 24 hours, when they then shot me a quick email to say that they were ‘out of stock’ and they were ‘dreadfully sorry’ and ‘maybe I could console myself by going out and shooting a fox’ or something – stiff upper lip, and all that.
Instead of grabbing my rifle, I instead went to the place I should have gone to first…(or so I thought). Usually bookfinder.com doesn’t ever let me down. Sure enough, there was Calvin and Hobbes, in stock at various establishments. Right, I thought, I haven’t sent him a Christmas present for a year or two as I’ve been battling poverty and racist Queenslanders. I’ll send him something that costs a bit. Something with a bit of clout. So I order it. Again, I revel in a clear 24 hours, thinking I am both organised and generous (a difficult combination to attain at any time, but particularly near Christmas). Again, I receive a message. This time from a guy called Todd.
“Hi B,” says Todd, “The postage for your order actually costs more than was in the original order form. It’s going to cost $143.”
I ponder this for a while. Does he mean $143 for the whole order, books and postage? Or does he mean [stagger] that postage alone will be $143? Surely not. I write and ask him. Another 24 hours go by. Calvin and Hobbes may, at this point, arrive in time for Easter, depending on when that actually takes place.
“Hi B,” writes Todd, 24 hours later and with only two more shopping days until Christams no pressure, breathe deeply, “The $143 is just for postage.”
“Hi Todd,” I pound into the keyboard, “Thanks, but please cancel my order.I had no idea Calvin and Hobbes were so heavy.”
As we know, your birthday is two days after Christmas. We can blame our mutual parents for that faux pas. And while we’re at it, let’s blame them for creating a family in which four out of the five immediate members have birthdays within a span of 35 days, stretching financial management to the limits. Anyway, since you were even Smaller (than you are currently) I have tried to always get you TWO presents and not join those lame-o people who give you one decent present and then default on the whole deal by writing ‘Happy Christmas…AND Birthday!’ on the card.
So even though your Calvin and Hobbes collection was going to be the wonder present of your Christmas, I also sent you another little, less weighty book, so you’d have a s-e-p-a-r-a-t-e present for your b-i-r-t-h-d-a-y. Now, as I have been thwarted, you’re only going to get that ONE. MANKY. LITTLE. BOOK. and THAT’S ALL! How embarrassing. It would probably have been better to get nothing at all! But anyway, it’s too late now, and I just wanted to let yourself, and the rest of the Internet know that I tried. Goddamnit.
Don’t get drunk and fall in the snow. And watch out for carpet burns if you’re going to attempt any handstands for joy.
Love
The Elder Sister
Just so it’s down on…er…paper?
Wednesday, 31 May 2006
There may be some [miaow] issues soon, as I’m sick to death of the way this thing looks, and want nothing more than a good hard… geek session, where I will upgrade my Wordpress installation and grapple with a new layout and all the gnashing and slashing that entails. I have always liked the look of What Do I Know? and I also like Kartar’s site (as you can see, I’m into those little tabby things at the top) although I much prefer my side column on the left. Anyway, with my next few days full of steam cleaning, grouting, shed building and finding a copy of The Hot Kid in a place where internet banking is viewed with suspicion…my nights will hopefully be spent playing with kittens and giving [miaow] a revamp. As some famous political slogan put it – IT’S TIME.
Today is Towel Day
Sunday, 25 June 2006
First book haul of the year!
Saturday, 6 January 2007
On the final day of our surfing safari we went to a book fair in Drysdale on our way to Queenscliff. I scored.
And the holiday is o-v-e-r. Wah.
Sunday, 7 January 2007
I’ve backdated a few of the previous posts as I have not looked at my computer for about TEN DAYS. That’s right. TEN DAYS. And only some of that time was hard. The rest of the time I was either surfing, drinking or eating. It’s Sunday night, and tomorrow I land with a thump back into everyday life. I have been trying to clean up the trailer. M and I did a big shop to kick off the year of what we hope will be a quest to be frugal. We are also poised to set up a watering system for our ‘garden’ (currently only consisting of potplants as the earth here is grey sand) which will operate within the Stage 3 watering restrictions.
I can’t believe that December 2006 has actually been and gone. And I still haven’t written down my new year’s resolutions! I was wondeirng whether to write them here… And still I ponder. I will be posting some more backdated stuff over the next week while it’s all still in my head, mostly so when I look back, I can see what the hell I was up to. Today is the first day in about five or six days that I haven’t been surfing, and I’m feeling the lack.
Potty
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Last night I lay whimpering sadly, headphones askew. I had finished, finally finished, all six of my Harry Potter audio books read to me by the delightful Stephen Fry. A hundred hours and 55 minutes!! It took me a few months, but I really did listen at almost every opportunity. In the car, cooking, cleaning, washing up, working on the caravan and while walking around the back paddock for fitness. Not only am I devastated that I’ve finished them and thus will never have quite the same level of wonder and enjoyment when I read/listen to them again, but also because there’s ONLY ONE MORE! I want it to go on FOREVER. [sigh]
Anyway, now I have to see the films – I’ve only seen the first one, so that should tide me over until the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows turns up in, let me see, um, 52 days. It has been a blessing having my spectacular new iPod and being able to fit everything on it. I am still trying to cope with the fact that it holds more than my macbook!! Now if only I could figure out how to get into the router here at work and open up a port for downloading, it would save me soooo much time. 
Peter Temple slays the opposition
Friday, 6 July 2007
One of my favourite writers, Peter Temple, has won the Gold Dagger Award (the Duncan Lawrie Dagger) for the best crime novel of the year (and a healthy £20,000) from the UK Crime Writers Association. The novel is The Broken Shore. He was up against Giles Blunt, James Lee Burke, Gillian Flynn*, Craig Russell and CJ Samson.
Hooray for Peter Temple! That dagger is going to sit nicely in amongst all those Ned Kelly Awards. Maybe this might prompt a reappearance of Jack Irish? I live in hope… I know I point this out fairly regularly, but he did leave a comment here once! Now I will stop behaving like my mother when she thought Small Brother went to a royal wedding, and just suggest that if you haven’t read The Broken Shore yet – you should.
————-
*I’m keen to read Gillian Flynn’s novel Sharp Objects, as it took out the Ian Fleming Steel Dagger and the New Blood Dagger.
Hatful of Hallow
Saturday, 21 July 2007
Going out for dinner tonight, and keen to go, but wish part of me (my eyeballs) could stay home and devour this. It’s the only one that Stephen Fry hasn’t read to me!
I managed it! NO SPOILER
Sunday, 22 July 2007
I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows ten minutes ago. NO SPOILER. I am merely writing to trumpet the fact that I survived my media blackout intact. I started reading yesterday late afternoon, and read through today from about 1pm until now – 7.30pm. I have always been a snappy reader – and I’m so glad a) because I wouldn’t have got any work done tomorrow if I hadn’t finished it, and b) because the longer it took me the more scared I would have been of finding out in some misplaced email or something how it all turned out.
M was v.good and stayed out of my way, offering me the occasional lime fizz. It’s lucky I don’t do this too often, because I’m incapable of reading for lengthy periods of time without sustenance. So, today’s effort took me through two oranges (fruit! who knew?), a bowl of popcorn, several scotch finger biscuits, several soy and linseed biscuits, a third of a bag of dried apricots and several cups of strong tea. I feel like I’ve been on a rollercoaster.
Feeling booky
Thursday, 23 August 2007
It is such a decadent feeling to have VOUCHERS to shop with. From my Faux Uncle Noel (known to some as ‘Grassy’) I had Christmas and birthday vouchers for the Paperback Bookshop. As I happened to be shooting through this city this morning and actually had them with me, I spent a leisurely hour ruminating on what I would like best. Way, way too much choice. I have always wanted to own a current copy of the Australian Writers’ Marketplace but it just seemed too boring to blow fifty bucks on.
To go with the same theme, I instead scored a copy of Reading Like a Writer by the aptly named Francine Prose. It pimps itself as ‘a guide for people who love to read and for those who want to write them’, i.e. me.
I pondered on getting the new one from Jasper Fforde, but was unable to remember if I did actually read Something Rotten or just stole chunks of it with my eyes at many and various book selling establishments. I think it was the former. But I’m Not Quite Sure.
So I kept in tune with my first pick and got The Best Creative Nonfiction: Volume 1. This was selected on something of a whim – as I flicked through, it seemed like the kind of stuff I like to read – and write. And I didn’t even know what the hell creative nonfiction was, until about a minute ago when I looked it up here.
Last but not least, I got – no, NOT a crime novel (oddly enough), but One Train Later a memoir by Andy Summers, who played in a lot of bands, the most famous of which were (are?!) probably The Police. It was voted book of 2006 by Mojo readers and also got talked up by Word Magazine (and I must take the opportunity here to thank Mr H. who donates all his Word copies to moi – on the proviso that I never throw any away. Fair deal). Incidentally my very own mother went to see The Police somewhere in Massachusetts a few weeks back along with 29,999 other people, and they were apparently excellent. “That Sting,” breathed my mother, down the long distance line, “He’s looks fantastic.” Yes. That would be closely related to the squillions of dollars, the freakish amount of yoga, the happy marriage and, most importantly, the kickass bassplaying/singing stuff he’s had happening for a while now…
I’m booked up and ready to rumble. Yay me
A book for recording journeys…
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
My lovely boss is a man of many, many talents – one of which is bookbinding. As I won’t see him tomorrow (my last day at work) he gave me the most beautiful leatherbound book that he made. The inscription instructs me to record my journey… It’s beautiful and the only other person to receive one from him in the office had to both work for him for 15 years and turn 50! I am so LUCKY!
The paper is parchment-like – sort of thick and creamy. Excuse my raptures, but I never thought I would get one of these!
It’s melting, it’s melting!
Wednesday, 12 December 2007
My brain is the organ to which I am referring. I bought a copy of Minette Walters’ Disordered Minds on the weekend from Loch Market. It was three dollars and I was happy with that. I felt like I needed to be sucked into some kind of non-baby related page turner, however, the more pages I turned the more I had the feeling I’d read it before. I persevered for a few days, but having been awake since 4am this morning and noodling on the net, I decided to add it to my ‘allconsuming‘ list. Too late! I found that I’d read it two years ago – and hadn’t been that impressed by it back then either.
But that was OK. Because yesterday when L, Chloe and I descended like a SWAT team on Savers in Frankston, I bought a Linda Fairstein book. Guaranteed page turner, I thought. No worries, I’ll read that instead. I went to allconsuming again to put it on my reading list. And there it was, again. I’d listed it two years previously – around the same time as the bloody Minette Walters effort. Gah. My brain is so cactus, I might just read it again, because there’s obviously not a lot of plot recollection going on in real life or in fiction at this point.
SLAM Protest Rally & Sleepers
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
I haven’t left this side of town for what seems like an a-g-e. Yesterday, this changed. M, Small Z and I drove into Northcote in the morning, and were gratified to discover that it took exactly an hour. An HOUR! An hour to civilisation, trams, coffee, chai made with leaves and hot milk, and…our actual destination. The first Sleepers Publishing CryBaby Salon.
I was glad to have had M there acting as my Manny, as I doubt Small Z would have stayed in the toddlers room for the entire session on her own. As it was, I was practically the only person in the room without an incy-wincy baby draped over me or crawling at my feet. Lawrie Steed interviewed Rachel Power, author of The Divided Heart: Art and Motherhood – a book I would have bought except for a cash deficit. Am now going to request it for birthday.
There was much discussion over the guilt involved with trying to pursue your artistic endeavours while still feeling like a worthwhile mother. A few times it was suggested that you have to try hard to just down tools, put your partner in charge, shove the expressed breastmilk in the fridge and JUST LEAVE. Something I have whole-heartedly aspired to, but am really really not good at doing. In question time I wanted to ask…but what about those mothers who have babies that don’t sleep without being breastfed and who won’t take a bottle? The sleep deprivation and the sheer brain deadening fatigue?! What do they do?!!
I think the response would have been ‘do whatever you can’. If you can grab 30 minutes a day to write or dance or paint, just do it. It’s good enough. It’s better than nothing. And it’s no crime that if, when those 30 minutes are there for the taking, all you can do is slump with a few chocolate biscuits and a cup of tea. Things will always improve.
I wondered also about the levels of difficulty – if you have come up with a non-fiction topic that you can focus on and research – is that easier or harder than writing fiction? Does the time you lack for contemplation weigh equally heavily on the fiction writer and the painter and the dancer? I suppose it all depends on the person, and what you allow yourself to do. Time to immerse yourself in your chosen artform shouldn’t feel like an indulgence, and shouldn’t feel like you are doing it at the expense of something else…the washing, the dinner… It’s this hardwired, burnt-chop mother thing that I think a lot of people identified with yesterday – the ongoing struggle to separate yourself as artist and mother.
And as Rachel Power said – the triumvirate of art, motherhood and WORK is the real killer. She spoke about the harmony that can come of the motherhood and art combination. When work is thrown into the mix, that’s the thing that sends it all off key. Just thinking about this makes me want to go and buy a Powerball ticket…
After visiting the nasally impaired, but mending Dr of Grass, we took the scenic route to Carlton via Coburg as Small Z slumbered in the back. And then moseyed on down to the front of the State Library for the Save Live Australian Music protest rally, where we met LIBRARYMAN (aka Mr H in work attire) and marched from there, through the city, and up Bourke Street to Parliament House. It was fabuloso!!
At the end, after a rousing rendition of ‘It’s a Long Way to the Top if you want to ROCK & ROLL’, there was a little too much speechifying – a great deal of which was generally indistinct to those further back in the crowd. I think they should have got people up to make a few pithy statements, got ‘em off, and had a few more songs. But, whatever… We took our leave with the hungry small one, and headed home after a stop for lemon lime and bitters, some spuds and some pesto bread.
Note Small Z on M’s shoulders to left of banner…
