out of the spotlight

Plastic Fantastic

2010-03-20T06:16:00.000-07:00

Could live without the Mad Men, but the Mad Women here are superduper.

Goodbye, Doctor David

2010-02-21T02:05:00.000-08:00

It's been a wonderful few years.

Thank you.

Stumped by asparagus?

2010-02-19T17:18:00.000-08:00

I feel sorry for all those chefs who go through their gruelling apprenticeships, toil at their trades, build up reputations for themselves and oversee high-budget, high-profile restaurants - and yet are slayed by the humble vegetable.

It seems to me that the hardest challenge one could set a bunch of would-be 'master chefs' is to ask them to cook a carrot.

For some reason, most chefs can cook every furry, fuzzy and funny animal on the planet, but if required to prepare a meal free of meat, they run screaming to the nearest cliche and hang on like Kate Winslet in the 'hooray, it's finally sunk' bit of Titanic.

You know the scene where she says, 'Oh, I'll just feebly tug at your arm for a bit, Leonardo-love-of-my-life, oh no, it's just a bit hard so you just float alongside me in the icy cold Arctic ocean, there's a dear.' Or as I like to call it, the 'he, he, he, this raft is mine, all mine!' scene.)

KATE (RECENTLY OPENED SPANISH RESTAURANT CHEF): I'm gonna let you down, baby. You're going to eat a dull meal and pay too much for it ('cause you're going to have to order a meat dish but ask us to hold the meat and we're going to charge you as if you got the meat as well - that seems fair, no?) and you're going to have to pretend it's fine so your meat-eating friends don't feel either uncomfortable or smug.

LEONARDO (VEGETARIAN CUSTOMER): Oh, don't I know it, baby. And I'm supposed to feel grateful to be here, I suppose?

RECENTLY OPENED SPANISH RESTAURANT WAITRESS (OFF SCREEN): You're lucky I'm here to put you in your place. I'm going to do my best to humble you down a bit as I scurry about with your used bowl of masticated olive pits. This is where it's at!

Anyway, there's no prying the cliches from the hands of almost any chef when it comes to vegetarian cooking. Napoli sauce? Why wouldn't you want to eat that at every single restaurant meal for the rest of your entire life?

Just look at it there. It oozes excitement. Isn't this the dish that drives all chefs to want to cook in the first place?

When I find something hard, it makes me want to learn how to do it all the more. But a chef with a fridge drawer full of vegetables? It's just too much, apparently.

When I go into a restaurant and the only meal option for me is a joyless bowl of penne napoli or its more sinister cousin, the dreaded risotto, I say to the chef responsible, screw your dismal goop, all gussied up with goat's cheese to make it look you care.

I'm not fooled. Just come out of that damn kitchen and punch me in the face. I'd prefer that to a condescending crumbling of goat's cheese! At least then you'd be being honest.

You're not showing your diners, your skills, your menu or your restaurant any respect at all if you think a 'that'll do' approach to any element of your menu is acceptable.

Of course, if it's a dessert it's another matter. Desserts don't come with a slab of steak on the top and yet chefs can manage them okay. It's bizarre.

P.S. I've been a waitress and I have nothing at all against the profession, it's bloody hard and the general public is scarey. (Spelled 'scarey' with an 'e' on purpose 'cause I prefer it like that, BTW.)

By request: fluff or an Elizabethan ruff?

2010-02-12T03:42:00.000-08:00

The idea of dressing animals in clothes gets me thinking about Bill Henson, and a film project I once dabbled with in the darkest days of my time 'with' a man I sometimes find myself comparing to Mr Burns.

In particular, he really looked like Montgomery Burns when he was naked, with the hunch and the sickly limbs and pallor, even with sticky-out spine thing going on.

And he quite fancied he looked like another Montgomery, Montgomery Clift.

He absolutely WISHES.

MONTGOMERY CLIFT WAS A GOD.

No doubt Mr Burns tried to project his pasty, cold-eyed image onto Montgomery Clift to spoil that for me as well as every single other aspect of my life.

Not a hope.

Did I mention Montgomery Clift has DEITY status? I once wrote some song lyrics about Montgomery Clift. This is as far as I got:

Montgomery Clift, I don't care if you're gay. I want to (blank) you anyway.

And as much as Mr Burns likes to think of himself as a screen legend, well, maybe if he does something meaningful on a screen he'll be in with a chance. (I'm being arch and witty here but you probably don't know who I'm talking about so I'm pointing out the arch wittiness so it's not wasted.)

It's tough to make stuff out of a yawning chasm of nothing though. So maybe I shouldn't poke fun at his attempts.

Who would win?

VERSUS

From here to infinity, it's Monty C all the way, baby! He was a leading man in Hollywood. Who do you reckon is more likely to beat a black hole? A scientist? Don't make me laugh.

A scientist played by Montgomery Clift in a Hollywood movie might do okay though. As long as he was the quiet, non-cocky, under-funded one at the start. And didn't get done for murder (we're talking Mr Place in the Sun and I Confess here!).

I assume I am proving you can't realistically begin to compare Monty C with a chasmatic (defined by me as hollowly charismatic) vortex - even if that vortex did have sideburns.

My point made

So, anyway, when I was 'with' Mr Burns, I wrote a film about this teenage girl who gets prank calls while babysitting her little brother. And at the end of the film, you're not sure if the caller was actually her dad. (Okay, if you couldn't tell from the vitriol above, I was in a BAD place when Mr Burns was around.)

I found this very talented teenage actor and approached her with the idea. Me, her and Mr Burns met.

And as I was talking to this young girl who really wanted to act, I went right off the idea of making the film. She seemed so trusting and hopeful and the film seemed so mean and pointless. Really, what place does a punchline like that have in the world? (Did I mention I was in a BAD place when I wrote the stupid thing?)

I wanted to warn this girl that the film was quite pervy (BAD place) and that she needed to think about it rather than say yes simply because she was young and thought this could be a 'big break' for her.

Mr Burns disagreed. He thought I should hide the facts from her and just shoot it. His point was that if she knew what the film was about, she wouldn't agree to do it.

But to me, that was the whole point. To me, there was no other point. There wasn't even a point to the movie, after all.

I ended up pulling the plug on the whole idea. It was just too unsavoury. I still have pictures of some of the scenes in my head, and they are beautifully creepy. But the story as it was had nothing of value to offer. It was just ugly.

Secret chimps

Can you see why I thought of this when asked about animals dressed in clothes? And Bill Henson, too?

I am not comfortable with what happened to Bill Henson, by the way. Full disclosure and full consent. Two important things. And genuine intent, too. With those things in place, I can't say I understand the problem.

But back to animals in clothing.

Intent, consent and disclosure. If you can achieve all three with an animal, put them in that sailor suit or trench coat with my blessing.

Or take your chances. You might get my blessing anyway.

It's hard to know.

Spoiler alerts

2010-02-11T17:50:00.000-08:00

One of the best moments in the world is when the lights go down in a cinema. The screen lights up, you sink into your chair and off you go, into the world of the movie.

Well, most of the time you do. Sometimes, and I'm looking at you Hoyts' Northland and Melbourne Central, sometimes the cinema is so full of numbskulls yapping you find you spend half the movie watching it and half the time wishing you had bought a silencer for your handgun so you could solve the problem with no further disruptions.

Perhaps big cinemas frequented by more youthful (and more senior) folk should have 'spoiler alert' warnings, not for the content of the movies, but for the fact that their movies will be spoiled because of all the talking.

No way did people always talk as much as they do now. And I notice talking. I'm someone who shushed a small child during The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. So, yeah, I notice it.

Are the chairs getting so comfy that people think they're in their lounge room? There could be something in that, you hardly ever hear anyone barking commentary at Greater Union, for example.

Up in the Air, a couple of weeks ago. The opening titles are over, we're well into the movie proper. People arrive late and discover that other people are sitting in their seats.

And that other, other people are sitting in the other people's seats.

So what do the latecomers do? Stand in the cinema aisle for about ten minutes discussing the situation, then call the manager and make them move all the people.

I mean, I know it's a movie, but c'mon, making two lots of people move?

Irritating, to say the least.

Finally, the latecomers sat down - right behind me and my friends - and proceeded to talk throughout the movie.

Seriously. If you're going to talk, why do you need good seats? You could enjoy the movie from any seats. In this instance the sushi train seats at Tomodachi would have been a better bet, methinks.

I'm sorry, but if you're late into a movie, especially when you're so late the credits are done and dusted, you slip in quietly and make a beeline for the sh*t seats. Suck it up. Be meek and humble - and quiet.

That's the main thing. You be quiet.

I was so annoyed my bottled-up-for-far-too-long-and-subsequently-verging-on-desperation 'shh' could probably have been heard from outer space.

BTW, if you think I sound like one of those whiny teens on YouTube, respect!

Image at top is Quiet Please Librarian by Richie Fahey.

Jill Crewe, I love you

2010-02-07T00:07:00.000-08:00

Fidra Books is publishing all the 'Jill' books again. It's just wonderful to know these books are getting the love they deserve.

I grew up with Jill and I still read the books today.

I never get bored with them. Jill is a super-cool character. She is horse-mad and through the course of the books, goes from being something of a pony klutz to being a superbly accomplished horsewoman.

You can read the first chapter of Jill's Gymkhana at the Fidra Books website.

But here's a little taster. (Jill's mother is an author, by the way.)

'It seems awful to say it, but I never could get on with Mummy's books at all. They are all terribly up in the air and symbolic, about very whimsy children who are lured away by the Elves of Discontent to the Forest of Tears from whence they are rescued by Fairy Hopeful, and so on.

'I suppose some children must like these books and buy them or Mummy wouldn't get the cheques she does get; or perhaps it is that their aunts buy them and give them to the children for birthday presents.

'Anyway, so as not to hurt Mummy's feelings I always read every word of her books as they come out, and try to say something appreciative, but honestly they leave me cold. I would rather have Out With Romany, or The Phoenix and the Carpet, or even something highbrow like The Horse in Sickness and in Health.'

And one more (when Jill broaches the subject of buying a pony):

'"You know it's all impossible. Why are we talking about it? Oh dear, I wish you could have got interested in anything else but horses. Some girls just love doing lino cuts."

'"Lino cuts!" I said, my voice quivering with disgust; and I went up to my room and sat on the bed and thought of Blackie all alone in the paddock watching in vain for me. This brought a lump into my throat, so I finished up with a good howl, and then I felt better and went down and made some toast for tea.'

What more could you ask for in a character? Honestly, Jill is a star.

PS The illustration here is by 'Caney'. All the original books are beautifully illustrated. I haven't seen inside the Fidra ones, but I hope they include the pictures too.

One more thing for today

2010-02-05T02:05:00.000-08:00

Do you think there would have been a Millenium trilogy if Mikael Blomkvist drank herbal tea instead of all that coffee?

I'm not convinced.

YA reading: today's purchases

2010-02-05T01:46:00.000-08:00

Recommended by this lovely lady.

Have started Liar. I like it. It's a real book. I would like to insert it somewhere about Stephanie Meyer's person.

It could be thicker, really, but it would do the trick.

And if you noticed the tram ticket bookmark, yes I have my free myki, but it ain't no good on trams or buses yet. (Boo, hurry up!) So today, lazy Friday, I had to go old school. A better bookmark than a plastic card anyway.

What's in Pascoe Vale?

2010-02-04T22:09:00.000-08:00

Ideas and suggestions are most welcome.

PS. I found this picture here.

Cry like a baby

2010-02-03T19:12:00.000-08:00

So I was at CERES with my friend the other day. We were in the market bit, a popular spot with families on Saturday mornings.

I was buying a raspberry danish from the little cafe there and when I went to pick it up, a guy behind me gave a gasp. 'I wanted that,' he said.

I thought for a moment and decided that since I had paid for it, it was already mine and put it in my bag. (It was the last one.)

As I was turning to walk away, he continued, 'You just made a three year old cry.' He was pretending it was funny, but it clearly wasn't funny at all. Not to him, anyway.

Although my dear and loyal friend cheered in response so someone found it somewhat amusing. (Bless you, KRF.)

I decided not to engage. The dad's aggression was right below the surface and I wanted none of it. I walked back to our seats.

My friend told me later that he'd kept going, saying that his child was going to track me down in twenty years time and exact its revenge.

Huh?

I can imagine, given the kind of parent this kid has, that not getting a raspberry danish could possibly be the worst thing that has ever happened in its life. But trust me, kid's dad. It's going to get worse. It will get better, too, even better than having a raspberry danish, as lovely as it was. But also worse.

And no amount of passive aggressive parenting is going to change that.

Kids should have a great time being kids, but does that mean they should never miss out on anything? I don't know when it was decided that kids have to experience the world as perfect.

Who is that helping? I just don't get it.

One of my favourite pictures

2010-02-03T03:26:00.000-08:00

America has the best place names.

I found this picture in an old scouting magazine. Boys Life, I think it's called.

To me, it evokes both the glory of the 'wild west' and, at the same time, its many inglorious moments. Bathed in blood, but still macho and romantic. (Or are they the same thing?)

The original was a double page spread. Magnificent.

BTW, I have other things I want to write but I am shy now because people I know are reading this.

I'll bite the bullet soon.

Hi Simmone! xxx

Paused animation

2010-01-30T17:20:00.000-08:00

A shot from the opening sequence of an animation.

I would LOVE to get this thing finished but it takes sooooo long. Was heartbroken when I shot a week of footage about 18 months ago and then discovered I'd messed up the lighting.

It's going to be, one day, a short stop-motion film, called Say Cheese. It's about how when the camera is pointing at you, you always have to smile.

And also about that thing where if you have cancer, you are expected to always 'think positive' and spend all your time reassuring other people that you're all right.

So annoying. If you lose a limb or have a heart attack you're allowed to be upset, but if you've got cancer you're meant to act like it's the best thing that ever happened to you.

Say cheese, folks.

LATE UPDATE: Ms Watson put me onto this interview today. Apparently, forcing someone to think positive just makes them more miserable. Well whaddya know!

April and Mae

2010-01-30T17:03:00.000-08:00

My favourite sequence from my first (and only) full-length comic book, April and Mae.

I couldn't draw when I started working on this comic - and I still can't - but I did learn a lot through the process.

Michael Hutchence

2010-01-30T01:53:00.000-08:00

It would have been his birthday a few days ago.
Was nice to do a dance in his honour at Go-Go, too.

Scott Westerfeld: Extras

2010-01-30T01:30:00.000-08:00

Am reading more books for 'young adults' because I think when I write my imaginary reader is a 16 year old girl. Maybe she's me, wishing I had myself to listen to back then.

I wouldn't have, though. Listening wasn't my thing, unless you were Maz - or Michael Hutchence. (Then I listened.)

But I was so miserable at high school. I went to three different schools if that helps paint the picture. Like I've said elsewhere, I hated school and if you went to school with me, you probably hated me.

Anyway, I've been reading 'young adult' books to see if I am indeed a 'young adult' writer. I am beginning to suspect that I am!

I quite like it, actually. It feels right.

I've been reading Scott Westerfeld's four books, Uglies, Pretties and so on. Am sure there's a name for the series, but I don't know it. I'm onto Extras now.

I don't like the writing so much, but it's nice to read about young women making decisions for themselves. It's so much more interesting when every character is given the chance to be somebody. Respect.

Westerfeld's prose is so clean it's almost blank if that makes sense. He makes up words for things and that adds the colour, I suppose. But I guess I am a bit more literary in my tastes. I like a bit more writing. A bit more cheek from the writer.

I am liking Extras all the same, however. I think it would be hard to write prose that clean, it would take real discipline. And it suits the tone of the world the characters live in.

I wonder if there will be a movie of the first book? That would be interesting. Especially if they made it in Denmark or somewhere good movies are still made.

Any suggestions on other (non-vampire please) young adult books I can try?

Speaking of good movies, I saw Up in the Air last night. It was surprising. It went to places I was really not expecting.

George Clooney, lordy, I could eat his brain with a spoon.

OMG!

2010-01-28T23:03:00.000-08:00

It's coming!

Bubble Cup Blythe

2010-01-28T22:56:00.000-08:00

I just decided, I absolutely must get a photo of one of my Blythes drinking a bubble cup. Oh, why don't they make a Bubble Cup Blythe that comes with a Blythe-sized, you guessed it, bubble cup?

I know, this is a boring post but it's Friday afternoon and I have spent three straight days editing 74 pages of web content. (It was much longer than that when I started!)

Anyway, here's bubbly Blythe for now.

Oh, and I have decided that TenRen is the best bubble tea in town, followed by EasyWay. EasyWay gets extra points for being so cute. But TenRen uses the best teas and their mixes taste like tea, not sugar.

I had a green tea with aloe and grass jelly from Bubble Cup today (hey, I was in the neighbourhood) and that was pretty good, but it's harder to taste the actual tea.

Thoughts? Suggestions?

The Wire Season Five

2010-01-25T23:29:00.000-08:00

Finished The Wire last night.

Will miss everyone in Wire-land very much indeed. Not much point going on about how good it is, everyone who watches it knows. I have to laugh at people who want The Wire to be a novel, as if they need some higher purpose for sitting in front of the box.

I'm over turning my nose up at TV. I think it deserved a broad nose-thumbing for a while there but these days, no way. I understand that The Wire draws from themes of great literature - what doesn't, when you get down to it, including every day life - but to actually call it a novel? No.

TV is good now, just let it be good as its own medium.

The only person I have heard dissing The Wire was Mark on Peep Show, I think he said it was over-rated. Who knows, maybe he got stuck in season two...

If you haven't seen it yet, I hate you. I wish I could see it for the first time again.

Anyway, so long guys. And gals. The few of you we got to know, that is.

And even you, Mc 'Faulty'.

Walk on by(ke)

2010-01-16T21:42:00.000-08:00

After I walked away from the worst, most horrible relationship of my life, I realised I could walk away from pretty much any person or situation that wasn't working for me. It's a policy I have employed successfully ever since, and I think I am much better for it. It's quite liberating.

And now I find I have pretty much walked away from the me that was a passionate cyclist. The reason? Riding in the city. I used to work in the burbs, and when I did, cycling to work was a true pleasure. It was peaceful, relaxing, healthy and happiness-imbuing.

Now that I work in the city, it's not like that at all.

I've commuted to work by bike for more than 20 years, through the years it was an unremarkable thing to do, then through the years it was weird and uncool, and now for most of the years it's been a cult.

And I'm over it. Riding in the city is HORRIBLE. People (when behind the wheel of a car) are, on the whole, HORRIBLE. Other cyclists are often HORRIBLE. Pedestrians are horribly unpredictable. I was getting to work stressed, upset, frightened and twice, struck by a car that drove off without checking to see if I was okay.

I just don't think cars and bikes should share the road at all. It doesn't work. And I'm tried of pretending it does. I'm tired of motorists abusing me after putting my life at risk. I'm tired of being seen as a 'cyclist' first and a human being second. And I'm tired of other people on bikes getting cranky and being rude and doing all the things people do when they are in stressful situations - such as when riding a bike in a 'cycling city' with no decent bike lanes. And I'm tired of arrogant and aggressive 'lycrists', giving all cyclists a bad name with bad riding, bad manners and bad attitudes.

Honestly, lycra has done people who ride bikes no favours at all.

And now I walk to work.

It's bliss.

It's the same feeling I used to get when I rode to work along the Yarra River, back when it was a dinky shared path for fishermen, joggers, pedestrians and the odd commuter cyclist, before all those 'lycrists' decided a dinky shared path was a great place to *train* in great packs of testoterone and attitude. Yuck, you guys suck, spoiling it for the rest of us.

Walking is slower, gentler, more peaceful and doesn't involve being in a war zone every morning and night. So my bike only comes out at weekends and when I am riding on quiet bike paths. It works better for me.

I wonder if anyone else is finding the same thing? In Melbourne, it would not surprise me.

It's been a while!

2010-01-16T17:30:00.000-08:00

I felt weird writing into a void but I have decided to get back into the blog business. Even if no one reads this, it's good for my writing to keep it up. Maybe I'll even put my real name on here. Not quite ready for that though.

Just have to think what to write about. I am going back to uni this year and I feel like I am saving my ideas up a bit, not sure how many I will need once I am there! Working as a writer depletes the stores for my own stuff a bit.

Anyhow...

Hollywood's final frontier - sorry, guys!

2009-05-17T05:30:00.000-07:00

It seems to me that, today, all the best shows now come from smaller countries or are intended for smaller screens.

Hollywood seems pretty much over. The big blockbuster has gotten so big it's no longer sustainable, it's so puffed up it's dissolving. There's no longer a place for it in the world.

Star Trek was the final frontier for me.

I had hopes. I dared to dream. But no.

I remember I used to be visited by some lovely door-to-door religious folk , and I remember always being confused during our conversations, thinking, "But that explanation makes no sense. Why can't I get my head around this? Am I really this thick?" until I realised that of course it didn't make sense - you had to believe first.

Then you could ignore the gaping holes.

Even so, I was with Agent Mulder on Star Trek, I dearly and sincerely wanted to believe.
And I tried. But I just couldn't.

You can't get away with such massive plot holes. There were so many it was shameful.

"Oh, let's drill into this planet with a giant drill. It's a drill that can be thwarted with a hand gun, but no one on the planet we are drilling will mind - or try and stop us."

Followed by, "Oh, let's drill into this other planet with another giant drill. We'll drill right next door to the HQ of Outer Space's peacekeeping force, and we'll use the same kind of drill that is susceptible to a hand gun, but s'okay, everyone on the planet will just stand by helplessly and watch."

Plus, you can't make a sincere movie with women cast as 'Oglee 1 and 2' and 'Woman standing in dress' in it. You just can't.

Makes me wonder what kind of company JJ Abrams is keeping and whether he is paying for it.
I guess he could argue that the sexism in this movie was a nod to the past.

Cause yeah, those days are over, aren't they? And well worth reviving today.

Tsk, tsk, JJ.

Musical interlude

2009-05-17T05:27:00.000-07:00

You'll need to provide the tune.

Bourne Again

2009-02-14T22:42:00.000-08:00

Suggestions for future additions to the 'Bourne' film franchise.

The Bourne Credibility in which the filmmakers set out to prove that another 'Bourne' film won't damage the credibility of the existing ones.

The Bourne Curiosity in which Jason Bourne Googles himself.

The Bourne Infancy in which Jason Bourne goes undercover at a day care centre and, through the innocent antics of his young charges, discovers his true self.

The Bourne Inevitability in which the story returns to a time before Jason Bourne lost his memory and retraces his steps up until the time before he got on that boat.

The Bourne Sobriety in which, after a night of 'full moon' partying, Jason Bourne awakens on a Thai beach with no recollection of what time he went to sleep. And his wallet is missing.

Animal lovers and snow domes

2009-02-13T15:19:00.000-08:00

My first zine since Nice is now in production. It's called Animal Lover.

I am working out the contents as I go along.

Years ago when I escaped a rather unpleasant situation I bought myself a Little Red Riding Hood snow dome. It was my own little cautionary tale in a bubble.

I think that snow dome has become the inspiration for everything in Animal Lover. So there are lots of woods so far. And lots of going into them for various reasons.

Baby dolls

2009-02-12T17:20:00.000-08:00

Was sitting at the tram stop the other day, having just collected my new doll from the post office.
Another woman was waiting there as well, with a baby strapped to her front. She was walking about with the baby, singing it a song from Paul Simon's Graceland album.

She was singing, "These are the days of miracle and wonder," from the song 'Boy in the Bubble'.

Meanwhile, I was fidgeting with my doll's shipping box, trying to resist sneaking a peek until I got her home. I caved and opened the box (the tram was taking ages). As I was gazing at my new dolly I remembered I had been singing along with 'Graceland' the night before. And then I remembered talking about that album with a friend and agreeing that it is one of the saddest albums ever made, so sad that it can hurt to listen to it.

I had recently started thinking maybe I was into dolls because they are a sad approximation of motherhood.

Then, when I looked at the woman with the baby again, she really looked incredibly alone.

Abandoned, almost.

I don't know how I looked, gazing at a plastic, big-headed doll with an expression of rapture.

I guess there are any number of ways one can look (or feel) abandoned. And I always suspected motherhood to be something of a lonely business.

By the way, my new doll is a Friendly Freckles and her name is Pepper.

The Model Couple

2009-01-31T12:18:00.000-08:00

How I love ACMI. All the most interesting, challenging and wonderful movies I see these days - I see at ACMI. And I went to the ACMI store yesterday and found copies of Johnnie To's Breaking News and Wholphin, the DVD magazine produced by the publishers of The Believer. It's got a short by David O Russell on it!!! Can't wait to watch it. Oh, and it also has a Spike Jonze doco.

Anyway, I went with my dear buddy to see The Model Couple (Le Couple Temoin) by William Klein. It was pretty interesting, about a 'normal' French couple who agree to put themselves into a Big Brother type scenario in the name of science.

Actually, a lot of the things that happen to them are pretty much things that happened on Big Brother, except here they were branded 'scientific', and not as 'entertainment'. Although the experiments were televised so it's all debatable.

It ran out of steam a bit at the end, when the rest of the world - and a curious political agenda that I couldn't quite work out - intruded so much that the couple was lost. And then dear Jean-Michael and Claudine were discarded with the trash, pretty much literally.

That was probably the point, I suppose. But I liked the couple, they were really sweet.

The Model Couple was made in 1977 but the way it looked and the way it was shot felt fresh and energetic. Like the filmmaker believed he was entitled to make a point and that people would deliberately seek it out.

Maybe it's just that thing again that in the 1970s filmmakers were still in charge and had the freedom to be bold and adventurous and see things through their own eyes first.

It still happens today sometimes. But not very often. More often, you get dross like this. Just. Completely. Utterly. Hideously. Awful.

What were they thinking????

Maybe my lovely friend Rachel is right?

And finally, given that I was home alone in Melbourne on a Saturday night, an aside.

Why don't the cops on The Bill dress for their jobs? It's pretty much set in stone that at one point during every episode the cops are going to have to run after a suspect. Probably a suspect living on a housing estate. But the suspects all wear tracky dacks and runners. How is a fellow or lass in dress shoes and slacks going to ever catch such sporty figures?

It's simply not possible.

Oops, I think he's got a stitch!

Square eyes are fair eyes?

2009-01-26T23:17:00.000-08:00

First, a photo. The water mains near my place burst on the weekend. It was quite a to-do. You can see more photos on my Flickr. (The MaJoR took this pic, I think he was quite interested in the idea of a washed-out garage sale.)

So many people were talking about sprinklers and my favourite fellow gawkers had their kid with them and joked about tossing him in and watching him 'pop' out the top of the geyser.

It was so refreshing to hear parents speaking about their kids in an irreverent way. I tried to encourage them to toss him (the tyke was in a bike helmet) but no cigar.

Fair enough, I suppose.

Second, television. I have been known to watch an entire season of a television series in a couple of days.

Is this the same as reading a book in a couple of days?

It seems a bit less excusable sometimes, even though when I have a DVD on I can draw, sew, do a crossword or even cook - none of which I can do while reading. And I'm not watching crap. I'm watching what is generally considered 'good' television.

My dream job is writing/storylining for a TV show. I think this would be the perfect match with my skills, personality and interests. I think television can be awesome. (Look out Be, spoiler alert!!) Spike on Buffy is, to me, one of the most perfect characters created in any medium. (I've probably said this before but I believe it whole-heartedly.)

It would have to be a good TV show. I couldn't bear to pour out dross all day. I'm having some serious adjective issues in my day job and even that is getting me down a bit. I dragged the thesaurus out of storage because I needed to find fresh ways to say 'fresh'. Worrying...

I'm not saying I don't like what I do, just that sometimes I think it drains my personal creative pool. When I get home, well, I am watching TV and fiddling about with little projects rather than doing anything truly creative. Anything big. Anything that requires a bit of effort.

And that is what I want my life to be about, making big things that matter, that take energy and effort, that not everyone would be bothered to do.

Taking photos of my dolls is a worthy pursuit but methinks it's kind of cheating because they are already incredibly beautiful.

But anyway, is TV really bad for you? And if so, how?

Am I answering my own questions here?

BMX Games for boys and girls

2009-01-25T15:50:00.000-08:00

I went to the BMX Games yesterday. It was pretty awesome. Usually when I watch something amazing I wish I could do it too - but not this.

No. Way.

I slipped on a wet patch on my bike and needed six pins in my ankle. BMXers drop metres from the sky onto the concrete, get up, give the crowd a wave and are on their way again.

The sense of freedom is overwhelming. And their skills are, dare I say it, mad.

Most of the BMXers are guys. I guess it would be tough for girls, especially for teenage girls, to demand space and time at any BMX place. Also, it's pretty rough and tumble, not a scene most parents would endorse for their young daughters.

Plus, you'd have to be pretty darn strong to do the big tricks. So, perhaps inevitably, all the supersonic BMXers are guys.

Nonetheless, the BMX Games gave some time to girl BMXers. The MaJoR and I watched their practice and competition. One girl practiced and practiced and practiced a move that she just couldn't get. She stuck at it though.

I kind of figured she was glad to have a place to practice where she didn't have to compete for access.

Anyway, it was great to watch everyone doing their thing, girls and guys. Despite the obvious dangers (and, as a general rule, one avoids people wearing clothing embellished with Australian flags) it was all just a really healthy and happy place to be.

Ghostpatrol!

2009-01-24T14:18:00.000-08:00

I'm going to buy this! I LOVE it!
www.panelpop.com

Please, Tom Cruise, cross at the lights...

2009-01-24T13:21:00.001-08:00

... and don't run.

Tom Cruise, you are one person I never want to see running again, in any way, shape or form (except maybe from the Thetan mothership when those f***ers finally attack).

Here is the man himself about to burst out of the blocks in the face of - aha! - an alien invasion.

I'm wondering, is this the equivalent of a Christian recoiling from Christ after he has risen from the dead, screaming "Zombie!"?

When Tom C ruise r uns, he is exposed. His true nature is revealed. It's not the most pleasant experience. The link I attached here takes a more light-hearted view. But it still plays upon, I think, the disturbing feelings one has when watching Tom Cruise run. This is a messed up man exposing himself entirely. What's not to recoil from?

I'd say fast-forward his running scenes when you come across them but that could make the whole thing a heck of a lot worse.

And just stay the heck away from Collateral. It's a nightmare.

Clint Eastwood

2009-01-24T01:28:00.000-08:00

I just saw Gran Torino, directed by,
and starring, Clint Eastwood.

Goddamn but that guy
has a lot of class.

The Waterhole at ACCA

2009-01-23T18:56:00.000-08:00

My sister and I went to ACCA to see The Waterhole by Gerda Steiner and Jörg Lenzlinger.

It's FANTASTIC!!!

I took two of my dolls along which caused some confusion and amusement for the lovely staff at ACCA. My sister got a bit bored with all the photo taking but she was generally a good sport. She puts up with me the way only a sister can do.

You enter the waterhole via a long tunnel of silver plastic and branches that goes higher and lower and twists and bends about. My sister and I mentioned moon surfaces as well as Willy Wonka's slowly shrinking corridor as we walked through.

The waterhole itself is tough to describe. It's a huge sculpture made of 'found objects'. It's kind of like if rubbish was organic and was left to grow on its own, maybe this would be the result. So it was beautiful but also a huge mess.

Much like much of the world at any time, really. Some parts looked like they were made by school kids when the reverse garbage truck came to visit, other parts looked so astonishingly delicate and unexpected that you had to think they were staged by a skilled and visionary artist. Or maybe they just fell that way. Or is that the same thing?

When you left the waterhole, you entered a little viewing booth with binoculars and so on, where you could observe other visitors (wildlife?) by the waterhole.

Then you went through to a big video room. This room was full (and I mean full) of images from the waterhole turned into abstracts. Abstract abstractions!!! More references to Willy Wonka were prompted, especially the hallucinatory steamboat ride down that tunnel!

The next room was a sparse room with an extraordinary mobile made from found objects - flowers, sticks, coloured plastic and so on.

The observation and 'spontaneous art' themes continued in this room. We lay down on white beds and looked up at the mobile as it moved above us. As it moves, it 'frames' within your eyesight. You can lie on another bed and look directly up at a real-life meteor, hanging in a net just above your eyes. The meteor is so precious it has its own 'meteor-monitor' ensuring you don't touch it.

Is a meteor the ultimate found object?

The next room is full of joyful photos of the artist(s) lifting people off the ground. So wonderfully sweet!

Then we went into a little lab, with a microscope and miniature desalination plant. One of the artists saved his real tears, desalinated them, and grew a plant using his desalinated tears. The surveillance theme returned in this room, too. On our way back, I made sure my dolls would be 'surveilled'. :)

Was a super-duper show.

My sister and I had a fantastic day, as we followed our visit with a
Thali lunch at Bismi's Gold an Fork.

Yay!

Meet April Mae

2009-01-23T18:53:00.000-08:00

One of my favourite photos of the moment. :)

Hey, hey, hey, HEY!

2009-01-23T17:10:00.000-08:00

I haven't forgotten about you, honeys!

From left: John Bender (Judd Nelson), Andrew Clark (Emilio Estevez), Allison Reynolds (Ally Sheedy); Claire Standish (Molly Ringwald); Brian Johnson (Anthony Michael Hall).

There's a question that has been bugging me for a very long time. It's to do with, as you may have guessed, The Breakfast Club.

So I am not kidding when I say 'for a very long time'.

This was the first movie I saw on my own, when I was about 14 years old. I still remember coming out of the cinema after watching it, and the feeling I had of being completely my own person, and completely alone. It was a really exhilarating and exciting feeling.

Was probably the first time I had ever felt that.

I'm watching The Breakfast Club again right now, actually, as it seemed quite appropriate.

So on to my question.

In the movie, the letter that Brian writes on behalf of his fellow students reads:

"Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday for whatever it was you thought we did wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay on who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us, in the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is: a brain; an athlete; a basket case; a princess; and a criminal.

Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

The Breakfast Club"

So... we have five characters, and according to the letter, each one fits into all five categories. Sounds good, seems logical.

But I have a few loose ends in my list.

CLAIRE
Princess: Yep.
Brain: Knows how to pronounce Moliere.
Athlete: Runs all over the school.
Basket case: Eats sushi??? The lipstick trick??? Is so conceited?
Criminal: Smokes pot, wags school.

ANDREW
Princess: Wears tights when wrestling.
Brain: ???
Athlete: Yep. (And the dancing, oh, the dancing!)
Basket case: ??? He does everything everyone tells him to do???
Criminal: Smokes pot, taped Lenny Lester's 'buns' together.

BRIAN
Princess: ??? Because he's a virgin/wimpy???
Brain: Yep.
Athlete: Runs all over the school.
Basket case: Bad at shop, suicidal tendencies.
Criminal: Smokes pot, had gun in locker, fake ID (so he can vote).

BENDER
Princess: Diamond earring.
Brain: ??? Because he's (assumedly) good at shop??? He doesn't seem to be failing, anyway.
Athlete: Runs all over the school, basketball, crawls through the roof.
Basket case: Anger management issues, got "this" for spilling paint in the garage.
Criminal: Yep. (Although I must say this seems quite a severe assessment, it's not like he's in trouble with the police, only with the school.)

ALLISON
Princess: Makeover.
Brain: ??? Because she's manipulative???
Athlete: Runs all over the school.
Basket case: Yep.
Criminal: Kleptomaniacal tendencies.

Any suggestions for the missing ones?

Matthew, really?

2008-12-14T17:15:00.000-08:00

Read any Matthew Reilly books?

I have read a few of them now, and I can understand why people read them. They are compelling in the same way a family-size packet of potato chips can be demolished without anyone involved ever remembering its consumption.

Maybe he's not a writer at all. Maybe he's actually a hypnotist.

I wish he didn't look so earnest and heartfelt and helplessly nerdy.

It makes me feel mean to write anything about him at all. But I can't help but wonder about him. He's like one of those bizarrely confident Australian Idol contestants you only ever see just before the ad-break in a montage of mockery, and somehow he's managed to bluff his way onto the show itself. And once he got himself onto the show, viewers found themselves helplessly, compulsively voting to keep him on.

I know, I know, Australian Idol is a very poor benchmark but the only other comparison I can come up with is the hypnotoad. And I've done that bit already.

Matthew Reilly seems so sweet and excitable, like a kid who's been handed a rocket launcher while his parents are down at the shops. I read somewhere that he felt his work has matured because he made the giant, prehistoric jaguars stalking one of his onslaughts (or 'books') slightly smaller than he had originally imagined them.

He's so cute!

For the more complex bits in his scene breakdowns ('books'), he kindly provides helpful illustrations.

These look suspiciously like they were created by his son using MS Paint, but the kind-hearted intention in their provision is abundantly clear.

One illustration I recall showed a wall with three doors. The door the characters entered, the middle door, was clearly marked. But if you were having trouble grasping the concept of 'he entered the middle door', a second illustration was provided, this time from above.

"Oh, now I get it - the middle door. The one in the middle. There were doors on either side of it so it's the one in the middle. Thanks, Matty!"

What am I trying to say? I don't know. Perhaps the part of my brain that could have once answered that question is being eaten away from exposure to too many words as arranged into an order of sorts by Matthew Reilly.

Aw, now I feel guilty again!
This is tough.

Hell, I'll end with a quote from the man himself. That should do it. And, while you read it, just remember how many copies of his action-packed blockbusters ('books') have been bought and read. The mind boggles.

"The horrifying alligator-like creature now stood on its hind legs, towering over Swain, looming above him like an evil apparition. Swain wagged an admonishing finger at the infuriated animal. "Ah-ah-ah. No touching."
Contest by Matthew Reilly.

And finally, if you're wondering about the italics, you must never have read a Reilly.

I guess I must say that, all things considered, this means you are really missing out.

Do cats think in sentences?

2008-12-14T13:06:00.001-08:00

Running in slow-no

2008-12-12T01:42:00.000-08:00

Twilight. I went to see it the day it opened. I keep wondering why this book and movie have become so interesting to me. The story is ridiculous, embarrassing, repetitive. The writing is only passable. I'm hardly in the target audience.

(How uncomfortable does this pose look, BTW)

And yet, here I am, reading the books through for a second time and buying my Twilight movie ticket online to ensure I get a seat on opening night.

I think maybe it's because I am fascinated by the writer's intentions. Did she know she was selling things, like "cross those legs, ladies" and "marriage is cool, especially if you're, like, 12 and you really, really, like, totally love him" and "God made dinosaurs" and "Isn't it adorable when girls are all, like, clumsy and stuff, and just that little less capable than boys?" Oh, and let's not forget her whole take on who belongs in the kitchen. (HINT: It's not men.)

It's a mystery and I can't stop thinking about it.

Anyway, the movie was pretty much like the book. In turns entertaining and breath-takingly slow. Yeah, okay. She loves him. He's a vampire. Cool. Oh, wait, you need to tell me again. Sigh, no problems, I'll just wait here while you do that. Done? Oh, you've thought of another way to point out the facts that: A. She loves him; and B. He's a vampire. That's fine, but are there any other plot developments you want to make a start on? No? Oh, okay... Then just tell me the bit about how she loves the vampire again.

That said, the scene where she sits next to him in, ahem, biology, and he's so overcome by desire to eat the living hell out of her that he can barely restrain himself - that was pretty funny. As was the scene where she goes to visit his family and they all want some.

Incidentally, the blood thing raises an important question, not covered in either the book or film. This particular detail seems a major oversight when the slightest adjustment of Edward's cool fingertips and Bella's heart BPM are given such careful coverage. Is 'that time of the month' a very special one for this darling couple?

Moving on...

My next comment does not relate to Twilight alone, it's a general plea to all of Hollywood.

Please. No more slow-motion running.

Showing someone running in slow motion does not make the running look faster. It never has and it never will.

Really, it should be pretty obvious.

I watched Logan's Run the other day. Now, there was a movie with running. No slow-mo, no weird cuts, no blurry bits to imply a sudden burst of speed at the end. Just simple, good old-fashioned running. I liked it.

But then again, the 70s really was a golden age in film-making.

PS: Here is a link. Read it for the comment below the blog entry. I know there's a losing battle going on here, but should I be glad if the other side wins? It's really hard to know.

In other news...

2008-12-10T02:40:00.000-08:00

Nutmeg with Crinkle, a folded paper cat. Yep, I folded all that paper. It was worth it, don't you think?

Quantum of silence

2008-12-07T19:12:00.000-08:00

Forgot to mention the new James Bond MS Powerpoint presentation, I mean, movie.

Funny, that.

T'was the first time in my movie going history that I didn't even bother telling the adolescent 'humorists' in the rows behind and to my left to shut the hell up.

I didn't want them to think I cared.

The presentation, oops, I mean story, went like this:

SLIDE ONE:

- bullet point alluding to past history
- bullet point alluding to conspiracy

SLIDE TWO:

- blurred image of two people fighting

SLIDE THREE:

- bullet point mentioning emotional anguish
- bullet point alluding to conspiracy

SLIDE FOUR:

- blurred image of car chase

SLIDE FIVE:

- bullet point alluding to loyalty
- bullet point alluding to betrayal

SLIDE SIX:

- blurred image of people running

And so on.

I'm surprised the revolutionary application of CGI in this MS Powerpoint presentation has not been more widely noted.

Forget acting in front of a blue screen and reacting to imaginary monsters. We're way past that now.

Instead, stand in front of a blue screen and react to imaginary emotional triggers, things mentioned repeatedly as significant but of which we see no actual evidence.

See it, disbelieve it.

I should mention that I am serious about shutting people up in movies. I have to bite my lip during the previews, but, after a grace period to allow others to settle their chips and negotiate drink sipping rights, I want silence. The lights are down, the lips are tight, that's my philosophy. I've told everyone from knitting grandmas to frightened children to quieten down.

My favourite line, not very effective in a movie setting is: "If I wanted special commentary, I'd wait for the DVD."

The more basic, "Can you please stop talking?" and "Are you aware that I can hear you from here?" work pretty well so I usually stick to these.

In 'Quantum of Solace' I would have preferred to yell it at the screen though. No disrespect to those in the movie. They were no doubt cringing as well, but, being actors, they could hide it.

But seriously, if you can't be bothered writing an actual story, leave it out altogether. And just blow stuff up already!

When the levees broke - Spike Lee

2008-12-07T02:42:00.000-08:00

I saw Spike Lee's documentary, 'When the Levees Broke' today.

More than four hours of heartache, anger, humour, music and more.

2005 in the USA.

I guess it really highlights how deeply impoverished New Orleans is. In a litigious nation such as the USA and no one bothered to make sure the people were safe, or cared for, or helped, or protected, or compensated.

Lucky they had each other.

Four hours long. Before the movie started, someone asked why it was such a long movie. I said, well, either there's heaps to cover, or Spike Lee is really, really, really angry.

Turned out it was both.

The movie covered the city's history, its black/white culture and politics, the warnings, the "evacuation", the hurricane, the floods, the victims - both living and not living, the music, the spirit, the faith, the government, the overt racism, the economy, the environment, the damage, the recovery (of sorts), the anger, the pain, the sorrow, the courage and the awful place this event now holds in America's history.

So odd, that a movie could make you feel such love for people and such despair for the human race at the same time.

And we can point fingers at the US government (until January, anyway, one hopes...) but in Australia, well.

We're hardly going to boast, are we???

Flick with turbine

2008-12-05T21:44:00.001-08:00

Taken on a rather famous Melbourne rooftop.
See more pictures here.

The tea drinkers lifestyle

2008-12-05T19:21:00.000-08:00

How many teapots is enough? I just bought another one from the Japanese Gift Market. I already have quite a few. But when I see another one that I love, I buy it immediately.

Add to the collection.

(I have an affinity with Red Riding Hood courtesy of an experience I once had with a wolf. April March wrote a song that really summed that experience up. )

But that's such another story it's ridiculous.

I'm not sure if buying repeat objects is an ethical way to live. If we buy things, we're dirty, brain-washed consumers. If we buy art, we're right-minded and sound. Is a mass-produced teapot art? If I look at it and feel my heart fill with wonder, am I a lost cause? Or an asthete? Or are they one and the same?

I'm sure coffee drinkers don't ponder such things. They have fair trade. They can slam down their green-ticked latte and move on, slightly more jittery and yet, ethically content.

Tea drinkers have more time on their hands. All that brewing. All that steeping. All that stewing. It's a problem.

Travelling north

2008-12-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

Am organising a foodie tour of the north with a lovely lass at work.
This is my list so far.

Sydney Road, Brunswick
A1 Bakery
Mediterranean Supermarket

Lygon Street, East Brunswick
Miramar Nuts
Sugardough

Lygon Street, North Fitzroy
Natural Tucker
Enoteca e Cucina
Mama’s pasta
Millawa cheeses

Scotchmer Street, North Fitzroy
Denchs
Loafer Bread (chocolate babka)

Queens Parade, Clifton Hill
Organic/cooking supplies store
Cavallini

Brunswick Street, North Fitzroy
Simon and Johnson (wallet permitting)
Organic vegie shop
Wilkins and Kent

Career suicide

2008-12-04T01:31:00.000-08:00

I deleted my first post to this blog after a friend advised me it was career suicide. Last time I pulled something from publication, it was because another friend thought my words were likely to drive someone else (a former friend) to suicide.

That's all.

I just thought it was worth mentioning.

I'm here about some monkeys.

2008-12-02T19:21:00.000-08:00

My brother’s nickname at school was ‘Monkey’.

My brother's speech therapist was right. Those years of dedicated thumb sucking did come at a cost.

Someone observed that the way my brother's mouth protruded from his face was somewhat chimpanzee-esque. And that was that.

Giving my brother a nickname he did not like was a dangerous business. If he didn't like something, chances were he'd lose his temper. A lot.

My brother's temper was of the explosive kind. Flailing arms, kicking legs, uncontrollable screaming, throwing, punching, cursing. The kind of temper that, among adults, silences rooms and sends supermarket shoppers scuttling back down aisles they've already visited.

At first, my brother's schoolmates used his nickname for ceremonial purposes only. A painterly flourish to tip over a teetering-on-the-edge-of-tears emergency teacher. Half-time entertainment during a long, slow Friday morning assembly. An initiation ritual for the new kids. ("Psst, call that guy 'Monkey'. Go on, everyone does it.")

Slowly, the application of my brother’s nickname became more sport than ritual. At lunch, groups of children would trail (a safe distance) behind my brother, whispering.

“Monkey, Monkey, Monkey.”
“Monkey, Monkey, Monkey.”

The kids all knew that if they kept it up, they'd hit critical mass. That final, decisive 'monkey' would come out, my brother would explode and then it would be mayhem, mayhem, mayhem. Monkey business, in fact. Funny stuff when you’re eight years old, satisfaction guaranteed.

At home, my brother's temper was less than amusing. At home, those flailing limbs connected with running backs – behinds, arms, legs, heads. They connected with motionless precious objects – bikes, books, dolls.

The order from above was that my brother was to be viewed as an object of pity, not scorn. If a flailing limb connected with, say, the inside workings of my stereo, it was a tragedy that had little to do with my own loss. It was made very clear to me, and to my sister, who was really to blame. Society. It sucks hard, apparently.

Early on, my sister and I learned not to mention the ‘M’ word. It just was not worth it. Eventually, it wasn't just monkeys that were the problem. Bananas were banned. ‘Every Which Way But Loose’ was considered a disaster movie. Peanut M&Ms were cluster bombs.

In secret, my sister and I gnawed knuckles, suppressing hysteria at the sight of the 'Grape Ape' in the Green Guide. Animal documentaries were irresistible thrill rides. A slight glance brotherward, coinciding with the appearance onscreen of the crab-eating macaque, was a daredevil feat beyond anything Dale Buggins could dream of. If caught, we'd have to sprint to our bedroom, slam the door, dive to the floor and wedge our backs against our dressing table and out feet against the door - and PUSH - while my brother pounded, kicked, screamed and threw himself against the other side.

Later, when he'd retired to his room to play his guitar, we'd be told, "You know what he's like. You should know better. What were you thinking, provoking him?"

It only made us want to do it more.

Once, in a bold move made to impress my younger sister (one that highlights exactly how desperate I was to impress her) I taught my brother a 'new handshake'. This new handshake was basically the finger grip shown on the ‘Monkey Grip’ movie poster. I showed him the shape and we hooked fingers and shook. I turned to my sister and mouthed 'Monkey Grip' at her.

She still talks about it today.

When I moved out of home, I started to experience a new thrill. Monkey mentioning. If someone mentioned monkeys, in public, confidently, openly, I had to realign my universe.

You can probably imagine what I was like when the movie ’12 Monkeys’ came out.