New topic

Favourite movie(s).

look, matter

The last time I went to an art gallery was Tuesday evening. The gallery in question is known as First Site and it has shows every two weeks featuring work from RMIT students. They have openings every Tuesday night with free wine and nibbles, which is a lovely way to end a hard Tuesday at university, as you can imagine. Anyway this fortnight in the gallery there are three different shows. One is 'Wondernamel', which is enamel jewellery. Another is a the deterioration of ceramic sculptures and the third consists of postcard-sized canvases that just looked really nice to me and I didn't really ingest their meaning.

For a student gallery I have to say First Site usually has good work. I like going there because my sister and all her friends from painting go to the openings and it's the only time I get to see them. First Site is a bit of a weird gallery space, being in a basement, but it's usually used to great effect. A lot of the shows reflect the nature of the space, oh there have been some good ones there! You can do a lot with lighting and there are different nooks going round. People always walk in craning their neck around in peculiar awe. The curator is also a really cool dude.

I chose this topic initially after I went to NGV with my dear pal Jordan. I was walking through the giant rooms looking at 100 year old portraits, big old scenes in gaudy gold frames pretending that I was a lady in a difficult dress with a parasol viewing them for the first time. The rooms are so big in that place! Then Jordan took me to the contemporary part and told me all about gestural work. I liked the colours. We then went to the park.

Anyway it just struck me that people can get weirded out by galleries because they have a bit of stigma about them - I know some of my friends at RMIT get a bit annoyed by the 'art scene'. And some worry about 'not knowing about art'. But it's not necessary to know about art! Any opinion is fine, including no opinion. At NGV I was trying to make up stories about the people in portraits and the artists but there were too many things there and we were going around too fast. That's a really enjoyable part of going to galleries for me. Actually that was the first time I've been inside NGV for about ten years or something so it was kinda nice. Even though really it's just a collection, just showing off all the expensive acquisitions that the Gallery has.. it's still nice to be in a giant building and be surrounded by so much interesting stuff.

Art Fart

The last time I went to an art gallery, it was at Artspace (where we took you and there was that scary plastic bag thing). The show was basically a bunch of beautiful instruments inside of this massive dome. From what I remember of it, we were afraid to go and get free wine and I couldn't find the loo. Me and Sam stood around the dome for a bit and admired the instruments. Then we left. Art galleries make me feel odd, and actually I don't like art galleries that much at all now that I think of it. I prefer bookstores because books are like art to me. But I am going to this exhibition of lomo photography at Sam's uni which should be good. I'll let you know how it goes.

art star

Next blog topic is a bit more involved. I require you to write about the last time you went to a gallery or if you can't remember that, go to a gallery and see something. Then write about your experience. Just a response to your time in a gallery or at an art show, not necessarily about the art itself..

small answers to large questions

What is the meaning of life?
there isn't one

Is there life after death?
no

How would you describe your personal philosophy?
Most days I wake up, I do things, I go to sleep.

What amazes you about the world?
everything!

What do you see when you look up in the night sky?
stars!

What are we here for?
no real reason

What are you here for?
I was told there'd be free sex.

What does beauty mean?
it's subjective

What does truth mean?
there is NO TRUTH, STOP TRYING

What does happiness mean?
happiness is when you aren't thinking

What's the most important stuff in your life?
the other beings I know

If you were gone tomorrow, what would you have left undone?
my fly.

What are you most passionate about?
apathy

What motto sums up your approach to life?
"I love Nigella Lawson's writing and I love her recipes" - Delia Smith

My Big Answers

What is the meaning of life? There is no inherent meaning of life, and it's no great mystery that we have yet to discover. I just think that we each choose a meaning that suits us best. As to what I think, four words: meaningless but not valueless.

Is there life after death? No, and it makes me feel silly about being afraid of ghosts in scary movies.

How would you describe your personal philosophy? Still in the market for one.

What amazes you about the world? Humans, animals, science, nature.

What do you see when you look up in the night sky? The teacup constellation, usually. I don't know what it's called.

What are we here for? Evolution.

What are you here for? A good book and really good food.

What does beauty mean? Beauty can be a song, an object, a place, a concept, a drawing, a feeling; anything.

What does truth mean? Subjectivity.

What does happiness mean? To me, it is playing in my parent's backyard with my dog, feeling accepted and secure, having a full tummy, tea and toast, browsing in bookstores, and feeling accomplished.

What's the most important stuff in your life? Comfort, animals, books, Sam, family.

If you were gone tomorrow, what would you have left undone? A life.

What are you most passionate about? Animals, human rights, literature and potato chips.

What motto sums up your approach to life? Mottos are lame.

The Big Questions

I was reading through the latest Frankie magazine, and there was a bit where 5 "creatives" answered the big questions of life. I thought that it would be an okay idea to put these same questions to both Susie and myself.

What is the meaning of life?

Is there life after death?

How would you describe your personal philosophy?

What amazes you about the world?

What do you see when you look up in the night sky?

What are we here for?

What are you here for?

What does beauty mean?

What does truth mean?

What does happiness mean?

What's the most important stuff in your life?

If you were gone tomorrow, what would you have left undone?

What are you most passionate about?

What motto sums up your approach to life?

February by Boris Pasternak

February. Get ink, shed tears.
Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,
While torrential slush that roars
Burns in the blackness of the spring.

Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas,
Race through the noice of bells and wheels
To where the ink and all you grieving
Are muffled when the rainshower falls.

To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal,
A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees,
Fall down into the puddles, hurl
Dry sadness deep into the eyes.

Below, the wet black earth shows through,
With sudden cries the wind is pitted,
The more haphazard, the more true
The poetry that sobs its heart out.



This has been a favourite of mine for a few years now. Regina Spektor sings some of the lyrics in Russian in her song Apres Moi. Pasternak also wrote Dr Zhivago, for those of you playing at home. Perhaps when I am alone I will record myself reading it. Not right now though because I am watching A Bit of Fry & Laurie.

Izumi Shikibu

If I could read a poem, I would read Watching The Moon by Izumi Shikibu

.

Watching the moon

at midnight,

solitary, mid-sky,

I knew myself completely,

no part left out.

I would read it in a whisper.

As it happens, I hate my voice because I sound like a man and my accent is horrible.

Izumi Shikibu was a Japanese poet who is estimated to have lived around 1000 CE. She was a politician and a courtier.

Here another of her poems:

Although the wind
blows terribly here,
the moonlight also leaks
between the roof planks
of this ruined house.

ways of reading

The other night I went to a poetry reading. My friend Laura organises some at a cafe in my suburb, it's so close I have no excuse not to go. Rhys Rodgers, a pink-haired poet-boy who I met at This is Not Art festival last year, was the feature poet. He's utterly lovely and generous and an amazing performer. So theatrical. They usually have an open mic night, and I had planned to take a poem of mine to read out, but I attempted to read it aloud earlier in the day and I wasn't feeling confident. There are a few different ways you can read poetry, I think. The wafty, timid, middle-aged woman way. Sometimes at these readings there are women who write about people they see at the pool during their morning swims; they usually do that voice. There are the writer poets, who don't really think about how their poems sound when they read them out, not really anyway. I am mostly one of these, I have to say. You might read them out to yourself, but that's just reading not performing. Lots of poets just read poems like they are reading a book. You have to make poetry with your voice, not just your words and your voice, well, it's an instrument so you have to sing.

A few beers later, after the reading, Zoe came back to the flat with Kym and I and we pretended to be poets. We pretended to be different styles of poets, using recipe books, textbooks and packets of bird seed for the poems. It was really fun. And hilarious. I read out the ingredients from some recipe book in the style that Rhys would do and it turns out that I'm actually decent at it. I suppose the beers probably helped slightly, but it was really amazing, I just acted like I was a really great poet, using my hands and giving the words crazy emphasis and playing around with the pace and volume of my voice. Zoe and Kym suggested I read my own poem like this. I DID AND IT WAS GREAT. 

Now, at the moment for university I am writing about the time I visited the Keats-Shelly museum in Rome.I It's been a poetic weekend, I suppose. Now young Stacey, you might not remember this, but it definitely happened when I visited you last year. We walked past that pub on the corner of K Rd and your street, whatever it is, and there was going to be a reading and for some reason we mused about the poets we admired and whose poetry we would read out. At Sospeso, the mc lady commended a person who read out a Tom Waits song for her open mic, saying that often people forget you can just read other people's. The Tom Waits person did a really nice version of it, but frankly I think she fell into the trap of half-singing it anyway, you could tell.

So my question, Stacey, is this: if you were to read at an open mic and were to read out another poet's work, whose poetry would you read and why? The challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to record yourself reading this poem! I'll post mine in the near future. I encourage any other literary (and non-literary!) folk to play along!

American Idol

So I've been thinking about idols a lot, and I'll write a list in my head, erase it, and then start all over again. Because the more I think about it, the less I even know what an idol is. But here goes:

Stephen Fry - Because every time I watch any of the shows he has been in I immediately enter a state of swoon. He does so much good, and is so much to so many people.

Richard Dawkins - He is the face of atheism and he really is making such a difference. When he toured New Zealand he was almost like some kind of rock star. I admire his intellect and fervour.

John Darnielle - We have been discussing him here recently but he needs a mention. He is not only my idol because of the effect his music has on me but because of what he has made of himself and his life. It can't be easy to be physically abused as a child, and not many people can get out of that a healthy, creative human being. But he managed to take all of that hurt and make it in to something beautiful.

As for my real life, I admire my sister not because she is changing the world, but because she is kind and patient, and has always been there for me.

As for my imaginary idol, I really like Oskar from Extremely Loud and Close. I just thought he was so brave, to drag around his heavy boots day after day. I wish I could be so brave.

I also admire Celine from Before Sunset because she is smart, thoughtful, and because she seems so free.

five idols and another

Stephen Fry, for he is hilarious, intelligent, handsome, literate, geeky, wonderful.


Rebiya Kadeer, because I watched a documentary about her and I am so proud of her.

Jean Rhys, because she wrote "oh I am only twenty and I shall have to go on living and living" and that's exactly how I feel now.


My mum, your mum, most mums.

Meryl Streep, cause I think she makes some fine movie choices.


--

M'colleague, this topic was far too hard for me to feel like I was doing it justice. I wanted to think of idols who weren't celebrities or ones that weren't too cliched and found myself at a loss. Runners up included many of my teachers and friends. Although frankly I don't have any proper idols; in keeping with my general diplomatic tendencies I like a lot of people in equal amounts.

I would like to subvert this topic and now ask you who your imaginary idol would be, in the fictive sense.

Mine is Maude from the film Harold and Maude. Maude is 79 when she meets Harold, a 19 year old boy who constantly fakes suicide to get some attention from his old fashioned and awful mother. His mum keeps setting him up on dates with awful girls his own age, but he sees Maude a few times at the funerals he often goes to and they strike up a friendship. Of course their age gap is a bit frightening, but I assure you I was in tears towards the end. Maude is so vivacious. She takes a yellow umbrella to funerals. She constantly steals cars, rationalising that people will have to let go of life so they should be freer with possessions. She and Harold rescue a tree from the street and plant it in a forest. They dance lots.

I don't want to give the film away, so I will stop. Maude is my idol. I don't necessarily want to be with a 19 year old boy when I'm 79, but honestly you never know.

my day in a bunch of photos

Find out more

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

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.

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

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 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.

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.

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.