Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
Best songwriter in the universe
No Children - The Mountains Goats
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
And I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
I hope that our few remaining friends
Give up on trying to save us
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
To piss off the dumb few that forgave us
I hope the fences we mended
Fall down beneath their own weight
And I hope we hang on past the last exit
I hope it's already too late
And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
Someday burns down
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away
And I never come back to this town again in my life
I hope I lie
And tell everyone you were a good wife
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow
I hope it bleeds all day long
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises
We're pretty sure they're all wrong
I hope it stays dark forever
I hope the worst isn't over
And I hope you blink before I do
And I hope I never get sober
And I hope when you think of me years down the line
You can't find one good thing to say
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out
You'd stay the hell out of my way
I am drowning
There is no sign of land
You are coming down with me
Hand in unlovable hand
And I hope you die
I hope we both die
Saturday, May 1, 2010
New topic:
Who are your idols and why?
Also, I was just looking through the blog and realised that I have twice mentioned that I hate American spelling. Spooky. But not really.
Also, I was just looking through the blog and realised that I have twice mentioned that I hate American spelling. Spooky. But not really.
Friday, April 23, 2010
My 22/04/10 in 20 photos
I opted to post it on my LJ so as not to fill up the blog with photos. So here is the link:
My 22/04/10 in 20 photos
My 22/04/10 in 20 photos
Thursday, April 15, 2010
The Mountain Goats at the Corner Hotel, Melbourne
John Darnielle is* the most generous performer around. So intense but playful and happy, you can tell it's a joy for him to be onstage and it's a joy to watch. People's brows furrow, mouths hang open in awe, hands tremble, clasp one another, tears well - intimate, intimate moments between you and the Mountain Goats.
The whole band seems very aware of how much their music has come to mean to so many people. John sincerely thanked everyone for being there, several times, comparing this show that sold out a fortnight ago to his first show in Melbourne (also at the Corner Hotel) attended by forty-fifty people. This crowd was literally like an army or some kind of cult, everyone yelling along, hurling lyrics back at him, hoping we all die, making it through this year, hailing Satan, knowing that some moments flare up with love.
Everyone has their own Mountain Goats lyric that they've completely fallen for and would do anything to hear it sung. I saw a girl with her eyes fixed on John's, mouthing words and nodding every now and then, like she was meditating. I saw a man who looked like a biker completely transfixed during Woke Up New, his eyebrows raised, honestly on the verge of tears. When John sings your favourite line, it's incredible. Moreso than it is with any other band. Last night mine was "if somebody asks if I'm okay I don't know what to say". I wanted to cry, wanted to bawl right there and then. But when I realised how much I invested in this one band I started to feel ridiculous and had to laugh.
It's the same with the music. One moment John will be talking about self mutilation and then making jokes about how his fringe used to be so long over his eyes because it kept half the sadness of the world out. You gotta admire his repartee with the hecklers who can't stand silence shouting out "NO CHILDREN!!!!". Two songs in some guy yelled for it and then John goes, "I don't mean to be a dick, but it is only the start of the show, I mean..". Then the next anecdote explains how this next song is about a video game.
Of course, this all exposes me for the raging fan that I am. I get that people don't dig their music or just can't be bothered, but their music is performed in such a human way, John is charming without being ostentatious and honestly is just fucking amazing. If that still means nothing, respect the fact that they came out for not one but two encores. During one of the encore songs, he jumped offstage into the crowd, picked people and grabbed them by the shoulders and sang right into their faces. It was slightly alarming, I'll admit, and my heart nearly stopped when he came in my direction, but he grabbed the guy next to me for ages and then everyone began hugging him as he sang "I'll be the best house guest .. " Then when the song was finished he points to the other side of the stage and goes "I'll get you guys next time". Yeah, I'll be there.
*and that would be all if I didn't think 'how lame is that statement'
The whole band seems very aware of how much their music has come to mean to so many people. John sincerely thanked everyone for being there, several times, comparing this show that sold out a fortnight ago to his first show in Melbourne (also at the Corner Hotel) attended by forty-fifty people. This crowd was literally like an army or some kind of cult, everyone yelling along, hurling lyrics back at him, hoping we all die, making it through this year, hailing Satan, knowing that some moments flare up with love.
Everyone has their own Mountain Goats lyric that they've completely fallen for and would do anything to hear it sung. I saw a girl with her eyes fixed on John's, mouthing words and nodding every now and then, like she was meditating. I saw a man who looked like a biker completely transfixed during Woke Up New, his eyebrows raised, honestly on the verge of tears. When John sings your favourite line, it's incredible. Moreso than it is with any other band. Last night mine was "if somebody asks if I'm okay I don't know what to say". I wanted to cry, wanted to bawl right there and then. But when I realised how much I invested in this one band I started to feel ridiculous and had to laugh.
It's the same with the music. One moment John will be talking about self mutilation and then making jokes about how his fringe used to be so long over his eyes because it kept half the sadness of the world out. You gotta admire his repartee with the hecklers who can't stand silence shouting out "NO CHILDREN!!!!". Two songs in some guy yelled for it and then John goes, "I don't mean to be a dick, but it is only the start of the show, I mean..". Then the next anecdote explains how this next song is about a video game.
Of course, this all exposes me for the raging fan that I am. I get that people don't dig their music or just can't be bothered, but their music is performed in such a human way, John is charming without being ostentatious and honestly is just fucking amazing. If that still means nothing, respect the fact that they came out for not one but two encores. During one of the encore songs, he jumped offstage into the crowd, picked people and grabbed them by the shoulders and sang right into their faces. It was slightly alarming, I'll admit, and my heart nearly stopped when he came in my direction, but he grabbed the guy next to me for ages and then everyone began hugging him as he sang "I'll be the best house guest .. " Then when the song was finished he points to the other side of the stage and goes "I'll get you guys next time". Yeah, I'll be there.
*and that would be all if I didn't think 'how lame is that statement'
Saturday, April 10, 2010
The Mountain Goats 08.04.10
The Mountain Goats 08.04.10
Kings Arms Tavern. Auckland, NZ.
Expectations were medium to high when we settled into a nice spot behind the sound desk waiting for John Darnielle and his chums (Peter Hughes on bass and Jon Wurster on drums) to play. Neither Sam or I can remember which song they played first, but I was excited to see that he had taken his keyboard with him to our little part of the world. Darnielle is renowned for his between song banter, and he didn't disappoint. Introducing songs with five minutes stories about his youth, comparing himself to a car wash with "brushes and shit" and telling us about the first time he toured Europe with Chris Knox and how he cried in the back of the van a lot. Even though he talks about sadness, he does it with such wit and light-heartedness, explaining before one song that it was written in a state of profound self-pity "which is okay when you talk about it at a show in a different country but at the time it was pretty heavy."
He is unusually open about the personal nature of some of his songs, talking about adolescent mutilation, "sometimes you just don't feel like you own your own body so you take measures to feel like you do." And mentioned his step-father and how "when you grow up in a violent home, it doesn't mean there's no love, but it's a damaging kind of love." One thing I dislike at gigs is whenever there is any silence between songs people simply must yell out song names. Darnielle didn't seem the least bit annoyed, commenting on song names with things like, "I would love to sing that song" and "I am so fond of that song" and "Well I wasn't going to but I'll see what I can do."
I found that standing at the back gave me perspective about the gig, we still had a good view but didn't have to suffer through the hot, sweaty, rubbing up against strangers part. Last year when I saw them I was right by the stage, so much so that it hurt my neck to look up, however it does give you a bit more detail. For example, there was a great moment when Jon Wurster lost his drumstick, but managed to pick up his spare drumstick for the next beat. I now know when to use "that guy doesn't miss a beat!" Lame remarks aside, it was pretty cool.
A highlight for me was Psalms 40:2, when we see Darnielle as a man possessed, furiously pouring out lyrics with an unrelenting energy. Then there was Genesis 30:3, a love song, when we see a different side of Darnielle, a sweet, introspected man cooing soft words "I will do what you ask me to do, because of the way I feel about you.' The tempo and mood fluctuated, in one song the band would be giving it their all with the whole crowd moving, the next song it is just John and his guitar. They end the set with This Year, which is a toe-tapping, leg-shaking, head-nodding crowd pleaser, a great finish to a perfect set.
Darnielle, to me, is the best kind of musician; unpretentious, genuinely talented, and prolific as hell. From their performance, it is not hard to see why they are one of my favourite bands in the world today.
*Sorry I can't remember more of the songs, I have a pretty bad memory for that kind of stuff yet somehow remember most of his anecdotes.
**Obviously the quotes aren't word for word, but they are pretty close.
Kings Arms Tavern. Auckland, NZ.
Expectations were medium to high when we settled into a nice spot behind the sound desk waiting for John Darnielle and his chums (Peter Hughes on bass and Jon Wurster on drums) to play. Neither Sam or I can remember which song they played first, but I was excited to see that he had taken his keyboard with him to our little part of the world. Darnielle is renowned for his between song banter, and he didn't disappoint. Introducing songs with five minutes stories about his youth, comparing himself to a car wash with "brushes and shit" and telling us about the first time he toured Europe with Chris Knox and how he cried in the back of the van a lot. Even though he talks about sadness, he does it with such wit and light-heartedness, explaining before one song that it was written in a state of profound self-pity "which is okay when you talk about it at a show in a different country but at the time it was pretty heavy."
He is unusually open about the personal nature of some of his songs, talking about adolescent mutilation, "sometimes you just don't feel like you own your own body so you take measures to feel like you do." And mentioned his step-father and how "when you grow up in a violent home, it doesn't mean there's no love, but it's a damaging kind of love." One thing I dislike at gigs is whenever there is any silence between songs people simply must yell out song names. Darnielle didn't seem the least bit annoyed, commenting on song names with things like, "I would love to sing that song" and "I am so fond of that song" and "Well I wasn't going to but I'll see what I can do."
I found that standing at the back gave me perspective about the gig, we still had a good view but didn't have to suffer through the hot, sweaty, rubbing up against strangers part. Last year when I saw them I was right by the stage, so much so that it hurt my neck to look up, however it does give you a bit more detail. For example, there was a great moment when Jon Wurster lost his drumstick, but managed to pick up his spare drumstick for the next beat. I now know when to use "that guy doesn't miss a beat!" Lame remarks aside, it was pretty cool.
A highlight for me was Psalms 40:2, when we see Darnielle as a man possessed, furiously pouring out lyrics with an unrelenting energy. Then there was Genesis 30:3, a love song, when we see a different side of Darnielle, a sweet, introspected man cooing soft words "I will do what you ask me to do, because of the way I feel about you.' The tempo and mood fluctuated, in one song the band would be giving it their all with the whole crowd moving, the next song it is just John and his guitar. They end the set with This Year, which is a toe-tapping, leg-shaking, head-nodding crowd pleaser, a great finish to a perfect set.
Darnielle, to me, is the best kind of musician; unpretentious, genuinely talented, and prolific as hell. From their performance, it is not hard to see why they are one of my favourite bands in the world today.
*Sorry I can't remember more of the songs, I have a pretty bad memory for that kind of stuff yet somehow remember most of his anecdotes.
**Obviously the quotes aren't word for word, but they are pretty close.
Booooooks
I, like Susie, will have to mention the Harry Potter series. They are the kind of books you disappear into completely, the kind of books you stay up all night reading, not ever wanting to let that world go. They are just good.
Okay, suddenly I can't think of any books. Oh! Ofcourse I will mention Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. A book like this only comes along every once and a while and it will have a profound effect on you. This book brought me to tears, and often, because it deals with so much sadness, but also happiness, and both make me cry. When a book makes me cry, that means it's quite good, by the by. I love Safran Foer's writing and especially in how he portrayed the protagonist, Oskar.
Next, Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. I really got a lot out of this book, but it took a little while for me to realise it. After I read it, I was researching the book as I chose to base my fanfiction (for uni) on it. It was in hindsight that I realised how many layers it had, much like the multifaceted nature of a Steppenwolf. And I love the language, even though it has been translated from German, it is still very powerful.
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is also one of my favourites. It is just so different to how it is portrayed in the modern day, and I hate how the original story has been twisted so. Victor Frankenstein does have a conscience, and his monster is only a monster because he is named so (Frankenstein calls him daemon). It is at times chilling, horrifically sad, and, that funny little word, poignant.
That will do, because I hear the dogs barking downstairs and I want to go hug them.
Okay, suddenly I can't think of any books. Oh! Ofcourse I will mention Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. A book like this only comes along every once and a while and it will have a profound effect on you. This book brought me to tears, and often, because it deals with so much sadness, but also happiness, and both make me cry. When a book makes me cry, that means it's quite good, by the by. I love Safran Foer's writing and especially in how he portrayed the protagonist, Oskar.
Next, Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. I really got a lot out of this book, but it took a little while for me to realise it. After I read it, I was researching the book as I chose to base my fanfiction (for uni) on it. It was in hindsight that I realised how many layers it had, much like the multifaceted nature of a Steppenwolf. And I love the language, even though it has been translated from German, it is still very powerful.
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley is also one of my favourites. It is just so different to how it is portrayed in the modern day, and I hate how the original story has been twisted so. Victor Frankenstein does have a conscience, and his monster is only a monster because he is named so (Frankenstein calls him daemon). It is at times chilling, horrifically sad, and, that funny little word, poignant.
That will do, because I hear the dogs barking downstairs and I want to go hug them.
Friday, April 9, 2010
my favourite books, a history of
Stacey, we both know I'm the waffler in this relationship, but I challenge you to whittle your books down to less than this. This is a hard topic!!
This list is excluding all seven Harry Potter books, because they are of course favourites of mine. And all Enid Blyton books. I think that I have favourite books from each different period in my life. I'm trying to work out whether favourite books are subject to age or whether I will love them forever and as a result I've been rereading a lot of books lately. I think I'd still enjoy the whimsy of The Faraway Tree and stuff, and wish I could be the sixth in the Famous Five and drink warm blackberry cordial with the Secret Seven.. I'll have to wait til I have kids to relive those glory days.
let's start with Raincheck on Timbuktu by Kirsten Murphy. There's not really much to the story, it's just about a few friends going through year eleven together, the protagonist's mum gets breast cancer and her friend has a dodgy boyfriend. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends and so on. There's a boy involved. Nobody knows what they want to do with their life/after high school (do we ever??). There are heaps of books like it, I suppose, but it's just so clever. There are jokes about Lisa McCune not winning a gold logie.. I just liked how colloquial the humour was. I've read another book by Kristen Murphy and sadly it's pretty much the same, except deals with boys. I can't decide whether that's really a bad thing. It's good to know that I could depend on her for similar literature. This book was my all time favourite as a 14 year old. Other favourites at the time include: Finding Cassie Crazy by Jaclyn Moriarty, Queen Kat, Carmel & St Jude Get a Life by Maureen McCarthy and Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta.
So then favourite would be something like.. The Bell Jar. Which I don't have to explain. And simultaneously, Catcher in the Rye & The Perks of Being a Wallflower (by Stephen Chbowsky). It's evident what phase I was going through at this time, is it not? I recently read Perks again and devoured it in one whole sitting. Charlie the protagonist has that same thing that Holden has (and that he himself admires in books) in Catcher in the Rye, the kind of voice that makes you just want to be his friend, and a slightly skewed way of looking at the world.
Also a lingering favourite from my mid-teens is Obernewtyn by Isobelle Carmody. It's like a sci-fi fantasy series set far in the future where Earth has been ruined by people of our generation (or a bit beyond, but essentially computers/machines).. but none of the technology has survived, it's all been hidden away or is underwater or in caves underground etc. There's a bunch of youngens who have "special powers", presumably gifts from a type of nuclear fallout, that have estranged them from the normal folk. They all reside at Obernewtyn where they live harmoniously and learn how to control/use their powers. The series starts relatively simply, but becomes incredibly complex. The thing that keeps me coming back is the gradual revelations about how we destroyed the Earth with our machines. The Obernewtyn kids just have no idea what our existence is like and it's really interesting how they learn about computers and stuff. I say lingering because there are books still being released. Think back to when we knew there were more Harry Potter books to come. Good times.
Current favourites (this is probably what Stacey wanted me to write about, but I don't care, this is my damn blog and I'll write what I want). I read The Hours by Michael Cunningham a few years ago and adored it. Probably because somewhere between Sylvia Plath and JD Salinger I read a few Virginia Woolf books and fell in love with her. The film is also quite good and Nicole Kidman is virtually unrecognisable in it! Hooray! Plus Meryl is the best and we all know it. Sophie's World is an incredible read as well, it kinda turned my mind inside out.
Brother of the More Famous Jack by Barbara Trapido was a book loaned to me recently, a book that made me gasp and imbued me with all those goodly imbuements that books should imbue one with. I think I have a soft spot for books that are journeys of self discovery peppered with romance and travel, because that's essentially what this book is. I love love loved it, it made me get teary on the train and yes, it was "unputdownable". Oh GOD and of course, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera was a summer read and oh my god was it a favourite. I can't believe I nearly forgot it. It was just fantastic, full of passages that made me go "YES!! that is IT", clever, insightful, scary, beautiful, apt in every single way. Just so calm about the things that shake me to my very core. We finally arrive at my probable current favourite book.
I have loved many more books in my time but I best leave it there. Perhaps it would have been more of a challenge to write about books that weren't favourites.. Then again, I don't think I choose books that I don't think I'll like.
This list is excluding all seven Harry Potter books, because they are of course favourites of mine. And all Enid Blyton books. I think that I have favourite books from each different period in my life. I'm trying to work out whether favourite books are subject to age or whether I will love them forever and as a result I've been rereading a lot of books lately. I think I'd still enjoy the whimsy of The Faraway Tree and stuff, and wish I could be the sixth in the Famous Five and drink warm blackberry cordial with the Secret Seven.. I'll have to wait til I have kids to relive those glory days.
let's start with Raincheck on Timbuktu by Kirsten Murphy. There's not really much to the story, it's just about a few friends going through year eleven together, the protagonist's mum gets breast cancer and her friend has a dodgy boyfriend. Friends become enemies, enemies become friends and so on. There's a boy involved. Nobody knows what they want to do with their life/after high school (do we ever??). There are heaps of books like it, I suppose, but it's just so clever. There are jokes about Lisa McCune not winning a gold logie.. I just liked how colloquial the humour was. I've read another book by Kristen Murphy and sadly it's pretty much the same, except deals with boys. I can't decide whether that's really a bad thing. It's good to know that I could depend on her for similar literature. This book was my all time favourite as a 14 year old. Other favourites at the time include: Finding Cassie Crazy by Jaclyn Moriarty, Queen Kat, Carmel & St Jude Get a Life by Maureen McCarthy and Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta.
So then favourite would be something like.. The Bell Jar. Which I don't have to explain. And simultaneously, Catcher in the Rye & The Perks of Being a Wallflower (by Stephen Chbowsky). It's evident what phase I was going through at this time, is it not? I recently read Perks again and devoured it in one whole sitting. Charlie the protagonist has that same thing that Holden has (and that he himself admires in books) in Catcher in the Rye, the kind of voice that makes you just want to be his friend, and a slightly skewed way of looking at the world.
Also a lingering favourite from my mid-teens is Obernewtyn by Isobelle Carmody. It's like a sci-fi fantasy series set far in the future where Earth has been ruined by people of our generation (or a bit beyond, but essentially computers/machines).. but none of the technology has survived, it's all been hidden away or is underwater or in caves underground etc. There's a bunch of youngens who have "special powers", presumably gifts from a type of nuclear fallout, that have estranged them from the normal folk. They all reside at Obernewtyn where they live harmoniously and learn how to control/use their powers. The series starts relatively simply, but becomes incredibly complex. The thing that keeps me coming back is the gradual revelations about how we destroyed the Earth with our machines. The Obernewtyn kids just have no idea what our existence is like and it's really interesting how they learn about computers and stuff. I say lingering because there are books still being released. Think back to when we knew there were more Harry Potter books to come. Good times.
Current favourites (this is probably what Stacey wanted me to write about, but I don't care, this is my damn blog and I'll write what I want). I read The Hours by Michael Cunningham a few years ago and adored it. Probably because somewhere between Sylvia Plath and JD Salinger I read a few Virginia Woolf books and fell in love with her. The film is also quite good and Nicole Kidman is virtually unrecognisable in it! Hooray! Plus Meryl is the best and we all know it. Sophie's World is an incredible read as well, it kinda turned my mind inside out.
Brother of the More Famous Jack by Barbara Trapido was a book loaned to me recently, a book that made me gasp and imbued me with all those goodly imbuements that books should imbue one with. I think I have a soft spot for books that are journeys of self discovery peppered with romance and travel, because that's essentially what this book is. I love love loved it, it made me get teary on the train and yes, it was "unputdownable". Oh GOD and of course, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera was a summer read and oh my god was it a favourite. I can't believe I nearly forgot it. It was just fantastic, full of passages that made me go "YES!! that is IT", clever, insightful, scary, beautiful, apt in every single way. Just so calm about the things that shake me to my very core. We finally arrive at my probable current favourite book.
I have loved many more books in my time but I best leave it there. Perhaps it would have been more of a challenge to write about books that weren't favourites.. Then again, I don't think I choose books that I don't think I'll like.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Books, again
The question I ask of m'colleague is this:
What are your favourite books and why?
As an aside, how annoying is American spelling?
What are your favourite books and why?
As an aside, how annoying is American spelling?
Monday, March 29, 2010
How do I read (or what I have been reading lately)
Naturally, this topic excites me, as I like to read, and read books no less (not a fan of magazines sad to say). Reading is a great passion of mine, and I often think it defines me as a person.
Beside my bed:
4 large psychology textbooks (for an essay)
When Elephants Weep: The emotional lives of animals by Jeffrey Masson
To the Is-land by Janet Frame
The Central Questions of Philosophy by A.J. Ajers
The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
The War against Woman by Marilyn French
A Room of Ones Own by Virginia Woolf
I think that this selection represents how diverse I like to keep my reading material. I like biographies, science non-fiction, fiction, classic literature, philosophical non-fiction, feminist non-fiction, and so on.
At the moment, I am reading Slaughter House Five, which seems to be going well. I just finished Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys which is sort of an unofficial prelude to Jane Eyre. Before that was Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse which I have grown very fond of in retrospect. In fact, I really love Hermann Hesse, and I look forward to purchasing all of his books. I have also just ordered the complete Sherlock Holmes box set, which I can't wait to get.
It's true that I read a lot more in the holidays, and the only time I read books now is before bed, in a coffee shop, or at work (ahem, don't tell). I think that it's important to read when it feels natural, I do not think one should force themselves to read when it's the last thing they feel like doing.
I remember I was not such a big reader when I was a kid, I attempted to read the Hobbit in form 1 but failed miserably. I remember this girl at primary who was a friend of ours, and she would spend her morning teas and lunchtimes reading, just reading all the time. I wish that I could say that was me.
I think reading is important, it keeps our minds stimulated and most importantly, active! It improves our intelligence, (although that is an assumption, I should find some sort of official scientific evidence) is a relaxing pass time, can be informative, exciting, scary, and a million other things.
I am a bona fide book worm!
Beside my bed:
4 large psychology textbooks (for an essay)
When Elephants Weep: The emotional lives of animals by Jeffrey Masson
To the Is-land by Janet Frame
The Central Questions of Philosophy by A.J. Ajers
The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
The War against Woman by Marilyn French
A Room of Ones Own by Virginia Woolf
I think that this selection represents how diverse I like to keep my reading material. I like biographies, science non-fiction, fiction, classic literature, philosophical non-fiction, feminist non-fiction, and so on.
At the moment, I am reading Slaughter House Five, which seems to be going well. I just finished Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys which is sort of an unofficial prelude to Jane Eyre. Before that was Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse which I have grown very fond of in retrospect. In fact, I really love Hermann Hesse, and I look forward to purchasing all of his books. I have also just ordered the complete Sherlock Holmes box set, which I can't wait to get.
It's true that I read a lot more in the holidays, and the only time I read books now is before bed, in a coffee shop, or at work (ahem, don't tell). I think that it's important to read when it feels natural, I do not think one should force themselves to read when it's the last thing they feel like doing.
I remember I was not such a big reader when I was a kid, I attempted to read the Hobbit in form 1 but failed miserably. I remember this girl at primary who was a friend of ours, and she would spend her morning teas and lunchtimes reading, just reading all the time. I wish that I could say that was me.
I think reading is important, it keeps our minds stimulated and most importantly, active! It improves our intelligence, (although that is an assumption, I should find some sort of official scientific evidence) is a relaxing pass time, can be informative, exciting, scary, and a million other things.
I am a bona fide book worm!
Sunday, March 28, 2010
how do you read (or, what I have been reading lately)
today I have to write a book review for class. the tricky thing for me will be to decide what voice to take, to decide how to write it. some people say that I write poor reviews, they just don't get it. as I am just warming up for the day, trying to motivate myself and get into the literary frame of mind, there is a topic that I want to discuss: reading.
I have been reading a lot lately and I must say it feels like quite an achievement. Because we don't often get the opportunity to just sit down and read, and if we do, sometimes it's hard to stay with a book and finish it. I have so many unread books in my collection that I have made a point of not buying any more until I read all the ones I already have. It's all very well to have an impressive collection, but more impressive to be able to say that you've read all the books in it. My plan was disrupted by the aforementioned class, though. Fortunately I have been on this reading kick and was able to devour two books in a weekend, and I haven't strayed too much from the plan.
This class of mine is called "literary non-fiction". Things like memoir, autobiography and biography fit nicely under this heading, as well as factual/historical fiction. It's quite a pertinent class for me, as I have great difficulty in separating my life from anything I write (or anything I write from my life). So the book that I am reviewing is written by David Carlin, actually a lecturer at RMIT, who is investigating the death of his father. His father committed suicide when he was only 6 months old, so although there are testimonies from relatives and medical records - real facts that inform the story, he often gets carried away with the possibilities of the story, what could have happened or led him to his death. Another book I have read for class is The Spare Room by Helen Garner. She reportedly made a big fuss about this book, insisting it's fiction, despite the undeniable similarities between Garner and the protagonist, Helen. Novel Helen takes care of her friend who is terminally ill with cancer, but deluded and in Melbourne for some experimental (read: crackpot) treatment, just as real life Helen did.
One thing I feel strongly about as a writer is communication. It's all about communicating stories that you feel are important or beautiful or interesting or funny or sad or brave or scary. Sometimes real life is the best place to find these stories. Sometimes they happen to other people who would just never write about them. Some people might not be able to write them.
I have also decided that I want to reread a lot of books, because all too often I read a book once and it "changes my life" (or really, I find some quotes in it that I like and change my quotations on facebook) but I have only read once. That's why I'm doing On The Road (this also happens to be literary non-fiction, I think) again. I have also, recently, been loaned a bunch of books. I think book loans are good incentive to read things immediately, especially if you respect the person who loaned it to you. You not only trust their judgement and are likely to enjoy the readin', but you also like them enough to return their book promptly.
Oftentimes I'll write lists of books that I want to read or finish reading - I do this almost monthly. Books I normally want to read are old and usually they'll be ones I've seen in secondhand bookstores or people talk about sometimes. It was weird for me reading those books for class because they were both published in the last 2 years and they're all new, sleek and glossy. There's no real rhyme or reason to my reading, I suppose if there was one it would just be READ MORE. The rationale behind Estelle Tang's 3000 books really gets to me sometimes (like how sometimes we talk about wanting to visit places or go places in our lifetime, I actually wonder whether I will travel as much as I say, what I will actually achieve): "The life expectancy for an Australian female is 83 years. 60 reading years left x 50 books [a year] = 3000 books."
Now ya'll tell me how you've been reading lately.
I have been reading a lot lately and I must say it feels like quite an achievement. Because we don't often get the opportunity to just sit down and read, and if we do, sometimes it's hard to stay with a book and finish it. I have so many unread books in my collection that I have made a point of not buying any more until I read all the ones I already have. It's all very well to have an impressive collection, but more impressive to be able to say that you've read all the books in it. My plan was disrupted by the aforementioned class, though. Fortunately I have been on this reading kick and was able to devour two books in a weekend, and I haven't strayed too much from the plan.
This class of mine is called "literary non-fiction". Things like memoir, autobiography and biography fit nicely under this heading, as well as factual/historical fiction. It's quite a pertinent class for me, as I have great difficulty in separating my life from anything I write (or anything I write from my life). So the book that I am reviewing is written by David Carlin, actually a lecturer at RMIT, who is investigating the death of his father. His father committed suicide when he was only 6 months old, so although there are testimonies from relatives and medical records - real facts that inform the story, he often gets carried away with the possibilities of the story, what could have happened or led him to his death. Another book I have read for class is The Spare Room by Helen Garner. She reportedly made a big fuss about this book, insisting it's fiction, despite the undeniable similarities between Garner and the protagonist, Helen. Novel Helen takes care of her friend who is terminally ill with cancer, but deluded and in Melbourne for some experimental (read: crackpot) treatment, just as real life Helen did.
One thing I feel strongly about as a writer is communication. It's all about communicating stories that you feel are important or beautiful or interesting or funny or sad or brave or scary. Sometimes real life is the best place to find these stories. Sometimes they happen to other people who would just never write about them. Some people might not be able to write them.
I have also decided that I want to reread a lot of books, because all too often I read a book once and it "changes my life" (or really, I find some quotes in it that I like and change my quotations on facebook) but I have only read once. That's why I'm doing On The Road (this also happens to be literary non-fiction, I think) again. I have also, recently, been loaned a bunch of books. I think book loans are good incentive to read things immediately, especially if you respect the person who loaned it to you. You not only trust their judgement and are likely to enjoy the readin', but you also like them enough to return their book promptly.
Oftentimes I'll write lists of books that I want to read or finish reading - I do this almost monthly. Books I normally want to read are old and usually they'll be ones I've seen in secondhand bookstores or people talk about sometimes. It was weird for me reading those books for class because they were both published in the last 2 years and they're all new, sleek and glossy. There's no real rhyme or reason to my reading, I suppose if there was one it would just be READ MORE. The rationale behind Estelle Tang's 3000 books really gets to me sometimes (like how sometimes we talk about wanting to visit places or go places in our lifetime, I actually wonder whether I will travel as much as I say, what I will actually achieve): "The life expectancy for an Australian female is 83 years. 60 reading years left x 50 books [a year] = 3000 books."
Now ya'll tell me how you've been reading lately.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
stayafter
I imagine in my mind the news reports about the end of the world
the media's game
"where were you at the end of the world? send your stories or videos to endoftheworld@sevennews.com.au or tweet @endoftheworld. become a fan of end of the world on facebook to keep up with the latest news and events. seven news, with you til the end"
vox pops on tv - hungry beast style -
"where were you at the end of the world?"
"I was fucking that guy I play eye-sex with at the train station" (wanted to go out with a bang)
"I was finally telling my father how I feel"
"I was on the phone to mum for the first time in five years"
"I really quit smoking"
"I was doing a very satisfying poo"
"I was having a bath"
"I ran out into the street and started singing at the top of my lungs and everyone joined in because we knew we were going to die" (and if that was the case we wanted to go out in song)
"I cried because I hadn't read all the books that I wanted to read in my lifetime"
"I started throwing things around and tearing off all my clothing because I was so scared"
"I was hugging the closest person to me as tight as I could"
"I shot myself before the end"
"I went back to my parent's house to be near something comfortable"
"I put on my favourite clothes and had a beer in the backyard"
"I went to church and prayed to Jesus Christ to save me"
"My other miscellaneous faith allowed me to feel safe"
"I felt really completely insignificant for the first time in my whole life and I was so scared and I couldn't do anything about it"
"I told my wife I loved her and we held each other in bed for the last time"
and we're meant to feel sad or shocked or amused or whatever
but then we switch channels because it's just another report and maybe we can be amused by some shit Charlie Sheen sitcom for a little while before something good is on.
I guess in some ways this is a list of things I imagine we don't do in our every day life. Because really any day could be the end of the world? I'm waiting for the day I don't wake up. I'm a bit morbid maybe but it makes things a lot more interesting. Bathroom tiles, people, they fascinate me.
the media's game
"where were you at the end of the world? send your stories or videos to endoftheworld@sevennews.com.au or tweet @endoftheworld. become a fan of end of the world on facebook to keep up with the latest news and events. seven news, with you til the end"
vox pops on tv - hungry beast style -
"where were you at the end of the world?"
"I was fucking that guy I play eye-sex with at the train station" (wanted to go out with a bang)
"I was finally telling my father how I feel"
"I was on the phone to mum for the first time in five years"
"I really quit smoking"
"I was doing a very satisfying poo"
"I was having a bath"
"I ran out into the street and started singing at the top of my lungs and everyone joined in because we knew we were going to die" (and if that was the case we wanted to go out in song)
"I cried because I hadn't read all the books that I wanted to read in my lifetime"
"I started throwing things around and tearing off all my clothing because I was so scared"
"I was hugging the closest person to me as tight as I could"
"I shot myself before the end"
"I went back to my parent's house to be near something comfortable"
"I put on my favourite clothes and had a beer in the backyard"
"I went to church and prayed to Jesus Christ to save me"
"My other miscellaneous faith allowed me to feel safe"
"I felt really completely insignificant for the first time in my whole life and I was so scared and I couldn't do anything about it"
"I told my wife I loved her and we held each other in bed for the last time"
and we're meant to feel sad or shocked or amused or whatever
but then we switch channels because it's just another report and maybe we can be amused by some shit Charlie Sheen sitcom for a little while before something good is on.
I guess in some ways this is a list of things I imagine we don't do in our every day life. Because really any day could be the end of the world? I'm waiting for the day I don't wake up. I'm a bit morbid maybe but it makes things a lot more interesting. Bathroom tiles, people, they fascinate me.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
The End of the World as we know it
I often think about the end of the world, and it fills me with such fright and sorrow. A very specific feeling, it is. I remember last thinking about it when I was on my balcony, I just looked at everything; the road, the people, the trees, and I knew that they couldn't last. It made me realise that nothing is permanent.
Yesterday I was watching an episode of Doctor Who called The End of the World, where they gather to watch the Earth die, five billion years from now. In this episode, the Earth has been protected from the expansion of the sun by gravity satellites, until they run out of money and have to let nature take its course. Doctor Who makes me think a lot about the universe, and I don't usually like sci fi, but it seems somehow special to me.
It's hard for me not to think about the end of world, as it has never been so apparent that we are living on such a fragile planet. We are just one of the billions of species that have lived on this planet, this comparatively small planet with a delicate ecosystem and foolish inhabitants that are destroying that ecosystem. As I said before, this can't last.
If I happen to be alive at the end of the world, I will be afraid and I will be sad. But I also will be free.
Yesterday I was watching an episode of Doctor Who called The End of the World, where they gather to watch the Earth die, five billion years from now. In this episode, the Earth has been protected from the expansion of the sun by gravity satellites, until they run out of money and have to let nature take its course. Doctor Who makes me think a lot about the universe, and I don't usually like sci fi, but it seems somehow special to me.
It's hard for me not to think about the end of world, as it has never been so apparent that we are living on such a fragile planet. We are just one of the billions of species that have lived on this planet, this comparatively small planet with a delicate ecosystem and foolish inhabitants that are destroying that ecosystem. As I said before, this can't last.
If I happen to be alive at the end of the world, I will be afraid and I will be sad. But I also will be free.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
write
I know it's not technically my turn, but let's be untraditional!
I was walking around the other day and I thought
"where were you at the end of the world?"
something fictional (obviously - or not), autobiographical, biographical, satirical, documentary style.. anything, long or short, poetry or prose
if we have any readers at all it would be nice if they contributed their own little something
I was walking around the other day and I thought
"where were you at the end of the world?"
something fictional (obviously - or not), autobiographical, biographical, satirical, documentary style.. anything, long or short, poetry or prose
if we have any readers at all it would be nice if they contributed their own little something
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
follow up: grow up
Ok I never posted my ideal dream job entry like I said I would.
I think the most important point that we've all learned is that now we are all "grown up" we don't have specific jobs that we want to do. We've all realised we'll never become a ballet dancer or a fireman - or that those jobs aren't financially viable - and set our sights on more realistic goals, trying to be flexible about opportunities that come our way. M'colleague Stacey and I are good examples of this: rather than designating a specific role in an organisation, we both prefer to think of broad fields that we can work in, probably so we're not disappointed. At least that's my philosophy.
So basically I have realised that I want to work in arts. I want to produce or make radio, I want to write for anyone or anything (within reason) as long as it's creative to some extent. I have always been one of those people who don't want a mindnumbing 9-5 job - I think this is because my mum has never worked a full week in my lifetime - despite the financial difficulties I will encounter. I just can't stomach the idea of something so dull.
Anyway that's about all. Refer to my previous post on this subject for further details. I ended up writing a fairly successful cover letter. Now I'm going to try and write an artist's statement.
I want to plug something on here, also. I have to maintain a blog for university, and if you are at all interested in convergent and social media, check it
I think the most important point that we've all learned is that now we are all "grown up" we don't have specific jobs that we want to do. We've all realised we'll never become a ballet dancer or a fireman - or that those jobs aren't financially viable - and set our sights on more realistic goals, trying to be flexible about opportunities that come our way. M'colleague Stacey and I are good examples of this: rather than designating a specific role in an organisation, we both prefer to think of broad fields that we can work in, probably so we're not disappointed. At least that's my philosophy.
So basically I have realised that I want to work in arts. I want to produce or make radio, I want to write for anyone or anything (within reason) as long as it's creative to some extent. I have always been one of those people who don't want a mindnumbing 9-5 job - I think this is because my mum has never worked a full week in my lifetime - despite the financial difficulties I will encounter. I just can't stomach the idea of something so dull.
Anyway that's about all. Refer to my previous post on this subject for further details. I ended up writing a fairly successful cover letter. Now I'm going to try and write an artist's statement.
I want to plug something on here, also. I have to maintain a blog for university, and if you are at all interested in convergent and social media, check it
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Ideal Job(s)
As with most people in my early 20's, I struggle to visualize what career I will take after I finish my university degree. It is true that when I started my psychology degree I had every intention of being a counsellor or a psychologist, but as it oftens happens, I changed my mind. However, I would like to continue with my degree because I love the subject and may be able to incorporate this degree into another career, for e.g. animal behaviour.
Ever since I started volunteering at the SPCA, though, I have wanted very much a career working with animals. Whether it be animal behaviourist, vet nurse, animal trainer, or something in animal welfare, like working at the SPCA or other such worthy organisations. I just woke up one morning and thought to myself, what is something I am really interested in and really care about, and that is animals. As I have never really been able to relate to human beings, I have always felt an affinity with animals, and have always been happier when they were around.
So really I have no definitive answer to this question of 'ideal jobs', just that I would quite like to work with animals in some capacity.
- Stace
Ever since I started volunteering at the SPCA, though, I have wanted very much a career working with animals. Whether it be animal behaviourist, vet nurse, animal trainer, or something in animal welfare, like working at the SPCA or other such worthy organisations. I just woke up one morning and thought to myself, what is something I am really interested in and really care about, and that is animals. As I have never really been able to relate to human beings, I have always felt an affinity with animals, and have always been happier when they were around.
So really I have no definitive answer to this question of 'ideal jobs', just that I would quite like to work with animals in some capacity.
- Stace
Monday, February 22, 2010
ideals
I always find that when one has an important an imminent task that needs to be dealt with, it's better to attend to something entirely different. Right now, I am meant to be writing a cover letter and completing my CV for an internship I'm desperate for. It's due tomorrow.
Instead of condensing my awesomness to one page, I ask you, Stacey Teague (and the wider internet, if you want) what your ideal job would be.
This may seem fairly prosaic, even a bit "high school" but frankly, I am at this stage in my life where people keep on asking me what I'm going to do after uni and I don't know. I barely remember why I chose to do the course I want. Dream jobs were easier to dream about when they actually seemed.. to exist.
Ever since I saw that movie Almost Famous (and speaking of high school) I wanted to be a journalist for Rolling Stone. Perfect job, cause it combined my 'love' for music with my love for writing. In fact I think I wanted to be the editor. Of course it would be nothing like that movie and nothing like I would picture it in my mind. (I've since grown less enamoured with print media - can barely review to save myself - or at least print journalism.)
Then I wanted to be Myf Warhurst.
I realise this is not strictly a career. I wanted to be on Spicks and Specks somehow - to put all my supposed musical knowledge to good use - and I wanted to be on triple j. I hated Rosie Beaton, by the way, still do, and can't believe she's still on triple j as opposed to darling Myf. My theory is that Myf just wanted to move back to Melbourne. I guess it was a good idea when Rove was still going.. Anyway, I liked that she played piano and that she was from a "random" country town in Victoria. I thought I could definitely be her, quite well. I didn't bother applying though. [oh yes ha ha]
It's hard to have a dream job when you actually want money. Or rather, when you NEED money. I don't really know what my dream job would be right now. I used to think I wanted to be a radio broadcaster (for triple j of course) but since living in Melbourne I confess to being intimidated out of all the confidence I had. Slowly regaining it though. But the problem is, all they want on radio is comedians. Or future comedians. Popular Australians are comedians. That's why Kevin Rudd was on Good News Week tonight, I reckon. He knows where the numbers are.
I'll give my answer a bit later in the week, when I've had a think. And after I've written my cover letter.
Instead of condensing my awesomness to one page, I ask you, Stacey Teague (and the wider internet, if you want) what your ideal job would be.
This may seem fairly prosaic, even a bit "high school" but frankly, I am at this stage in my life where people keep on asking me what I'm going to do after uni and I don't know. I barely remember why I chose to do the course I want. Dream jobs were easier to dream about when they actually seemed.. to exist.
Ever since I saw that movie Almost Famous (and speaking of high school) I wanted to be a journalist for Rolling Stone. Perfect job, cause it combined my 'love' for music with my love for writing. In fact I think I wanted to be the editor. Of course it would be nothing like that movie and nothing like I would picture it in my mind. (I've since grown less enamoured with print media - can barely review to save myself - or at least print journalism.)
Then I wanted to be Myf Warhurst.
I realise this is not strictly a career. I wanted to be on Spicks and Specks somehow - to put all my supposed musical knowledge to good use - and I wanted to be on triple j. I hated Rosie Beaton, by the way, still do, and can't believe she's still on triple j as opposed to darling Myf. My theory is that Myf just wanted to move back to Melbourne. I guess it was a good idea when Rove was still going.. Anyway, I liked that she played piano and that she was from a "random" country town in Victoria. I thought I could definitely be her, quite well. I didn't bother applying though. [oh yes ha ha]
It's hard to have a dream job when you actually want money. Or rather, when you NEED money. I don't really know what my dream job would be right now. I used to think I wanted to be a radio broadcaster (for triple j of course) but since living in Melbourne I confess to being intimidated out of all the confidence I had. Slowly regaining it though. But the problem is, all they want on radio is comedians. Or future comedians. Popular Australians are comedians. That's why Kevin Rudd was on Good News Week tonight, I reckon. He knows where the numbers are.
I'll give my answer a bit later in the week, when I've had a think. And after I've written my cover letter.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Like You by Roque Dalton (Translated by Jack Hirschman)
Like you I
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-
blue landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.
love love, life, the sweet smell
of things, the sky-
blue landscape of January days.
And my blood boils up
and I laugh through eyes
that have known the buds of tears.
I believe the world is beautiful
and that poetry, like bread, is for everyone.
And that my veins don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love,
little things,
landscape and bread,
the poetry of everyone.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
nihilism with Susan
I fear that my response to this nihilism topic will be far less thoughtful (read: thoughtless) than m'colleague's. As it brings with it an immensely broad spectrum of paradoxical discussions and conversations I will try to be brief and ask for the sympathy of our nonreaders because faced with what has come before me, I fear embarrassment.
Nihilism has followed me from an early age. For various reasons I was an unhappy child, lacking the carefree childhood that most of you out there would know. I dunno, life is rife with disappointment. Nihilism for me is one of those things that you can forget about if you concentrate on little things like: where am I going to live this year? will eating heaps of Lord of the Fries make my skin oily? did that busker think I was a weirdo when I threw a note into his guitar case? I forgot to take my washing off the line! the house smells like cats now! my cat pees everywhere and she's going mad! and so on.
But try as you might, you cannot escape it. When you are on long train journeys it becomes hard to avoid. For a good portion of last year I was constantly knee deep in nihilism. At this point, I should clarify my own understanding and personal interpretation of the word. [When I feel nihilistic it's like] a manifestation of all the negative feelings I have about nothingness and meaninglessness. When I was about 15 I used to call these 'fears of impermanence'. They come swirling at me out of nowhere (HA!) and drag me into this awful place, mentally of course, you muppet, where simply everything becomes utterly terrifying. Stacey has alluded to this in her post, so if you need clarification of just what perhaps I mean by 'utterly terrifying' you should read what she said. Back in the physical world, I lash at the tiles in my bathroom, claw at my limbs and try to breathe.
One must learn to deal, though and I should add that there is a positive side to this. After things are terrifying, you tend to realise how random and beautiful they are. It makes walking to the train station or sitting, watching people go by a whole lot nicer. Then while this is happening to you, you cheer up and then remember all your real life concerns. Nihilism can be strong, but the pull of real life is generally stronger.
At this juncture, there are various people that I want to quote for relevance, comfort and support but I'll just briefly mention their names: Neutral Milk Hotel, the entirety of the film the Hours, some Bright Eyes songs, a few other books.. blah. But an extract from Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (that I am currently reading, for those of you playing at home) seems most relevant:
Basically, nihilism is something that I live with. It comes and goes. As Stacey said in her post (more or less; I hope I have not misunderstood), I think that the value of nihilism is that it teaches us, most importantly, that life is valuable.
Nihilism has followed me from an early age. For various reasons I was an unhappy child, lacking the carefree childhood that most of you out there would know. I dunno, life is rife with disappointment. Nihilism for me is one of those things that you can forget about if you concentrate on little things like: where am I going to live this year? will eating heaps of Lord of the Fries make my skin oily? did that busker think I was a weirdo when I threw a note into his guitar case? I forgot to take my washing off the line! the house smells like cats now! my cat pees everywhere and she's going mad! and so on.
But try as you might, you cannot escape it. When you are on long train journeys it becomes hard to avoid. For a good portion of last year I was constantly knee deep in nihilism. At this point, I should clarify my own understanding and personal interpretation of the word. [When I feel nihilistic it's like] a manifestation of all the negative feelings I have about nothingness and meaninglessness. When I was about 15 I used to call these 'fears of impermanence'. They come swirling at me out of nowhere (HA!) and drag me into this awful place, mentally of course, you muppet, where simply everything becomes utterly terrifying. Stacey has alluded to this in her post, so if you need clarification of just what perhaps I mean by 'utterly terrifying' you should read what she said. Back in the physical world, I lash at the tiles in my bathroom, claw at my limbs and try to breathe.
One must learn to deal, though and I should add that there is a positive side to this. After things are terrifying, you tend to realise how random and beautiful they are. It makes walking to the train station or sitting, watching people go by a whole lot nicer. Then while this is happening to you, you cheer up and then remember all your real life concerns. Nihilism can be strong, but the pull of real life is generally stronger.
At this juncture, there are various people that I want to quote for relevance, comfort and support but I'll just briefly mention their names: Neutral Milk Hotel, the entirety of the film the Hours, some Bright Eyes songs, a few other books.. blah. But an extract from Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf (that I am currently reading, for those of you playing at home) seems most relevant:
Did it matter, then, she asked herself, walking toward Bond street, did it matter that she must inevitably cease completely; all this must go on without her; did she resent it or did it not become consoling to believe that death ended absolutely? but that somehow in the streets of London, on the ebb and flow of things, here, there, she survived, Peter survived, lived in each other, she being part, she was positive, of the trees at home; of the house there, ugly, rambling all to bits and pieces as it was; part of people she had never met; being laid out like a mist between the people she knew best, who lifted her on their branches as she had seen the trees lift the mist, but it spread ever so far, her life, herself.
Basically, nihilism is something that I live with. It comes and goes. As Stacey said in her post (more or less; I hope I have not misunderstood), I think that the value of nihilism is that it teaches us, most importantly, that life is valuable.
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