I was really smirking at my audiobook in the car today. I Think the last decent belly laugh I had was when I was in France, hanging out with some of the other people on the writer's retreat. Most of them were hilarious in a good way.
2. Who among your friends/family "gets" your sense of humor?
My sense of humour is a bit different. I blame Neurodiversity for this. But I have a couple of friends who get what I find funny. Strangely, a friend's son, who is also neurodivergent gets my sense of humour completely. Also, being Australian, I have a fairly dry, verging on sarcastic sense of humour. Most Australians will get that part.
3. What jewelry are you wearing at this moment?
At the moment, I am wearing my Apple Watch, I have silver sleepers in my ears and a single silver ring on two fingers, one on each hand. They don’t come off.
I don’t wear much jewelry.
4. If you could offer one bit of etiquette that everyone should follow while dining out, what would it be?
Other than when using the cutlery on a table work from the outside in, my advice would be to always be civil and courteous to your servers. I hate people who are rude to waiting staff. You get better service that way too.
5. What's the first thing a guest would notice when they walked through your front door?
At the moment, if you walked into my flat, you would notice that it’s a lot cleaner and tidier than it normally is. I had a flat inspection this morning, so the place has been cleaned and tidied within an inch of its life.
File this one under 'Wait for Streaming'. It's not a bad film. It's not a great film. It's the thing you see when you're supposed to be cleaning the flat ready for an inspection tomorrow. As I am not a hoarder, not sheltering 13 students in the spare room, nor running a meth lab, and I've got the place pretty clean and tidy, I'm pretty much good to go. Just have to is the hard floors and do the ironing.
Anyway, this was my get out of the house movie. I used Hoyts points to bring down the price.
And yeah, it's an okay film, but you don't need to see it on the big screen. It was, however, a nice diversion.
Based on Colleen Hoover's book of the same name, Regretting You looks at the strained relationship between young mother Morgan Grant (Allison Williams) and her teenage daughter Clara (McKenna Grace), exacerbated by Morgan's husband Chris's (Scott Eastwood) tragic death, that forces them to navigate life's challenges together.
The plot wants to be complicated, but it's as subtle as a sledgehammer. You know what's going to happen. Morgan, who got pregnant in her late teens marries Scott, instead of following her heart with her sister's now-boyfriend Jonah (Dave Franco).
In the meantime, Clara starts a relationship with the alleged bad boy of the town, Miller (Mason Thames). Of course, he's not the bad boy her parents think he is. I found myself wanting to yell at her for not answering her mother's phone calls. Must be my age.
Subtle as a sledgehammer, yet still mildly entertaining and pretty to look at.
As a gap filler when you know you have other things to do, this was fin, especially as I didn't pay full whack for the ticket.
If you're a fan of Colleen Hoover, you'll probably enjoy this. If you're a young person wanting a date film, it might fit the bill.
Otherwise, wait until it hits a streaming service and save your money.
Like all good introverts, I turn into a pumpkin after an hour in a crowded room. Also, like all good introverts, I have an exit strategy, when faced with a noisy crowded room. Standing near the door is one such strategy. Taking public transport and knowing you want to be home just after nightfall is another. And suburban trains from deepest, darkest Ivanhoe only run every twenty minutes. I'd researched the train times. I had the map to the station memorised. I'd say my farewells and make my escape.
So much energy goes into planning the escape. I thought it might be a neurodiversity thing, after all, the event I was attending was a friend's book launch - well, double book launch - she's written two small books. I am in awe. As my friend is a Gunna (a fellow tribe member of Catherine Deveny's Gunnas community) I did what Gunnas do. Turn up.
I'd got there early, not knowing what the trains were doing, already being caught out on this line in the last fortnight. I'd got out of my gym clothes, dressed nicely, even put on a light dusting of makeup. I arrived on time, something that wouldn't have happen if I'd driven, and even though deepest, darkest Ivanhoe is about seven kilometres away as the crow flies.
And it was lovely to see everybody there - lots of Gunnas had the same idea. We support our own. For me, it was even more important to go as I was asked to come by the author. Of course I'm going to go.
I'm glad I did.
I spent the time talking with friends. It was lovely. My friend's books were launched in style.
Of course I bought the book.
And I made my farewells, ultimately 20 minutes after I was hoping and made the train with five minutes to spare, to be greeted by this sunset.
Yet, there is something dreary, almost depressing, about an evening suburban train, especially one you're taking alone when you're dressed up.
The melacholy feeling alleviated with a Chinese takeaway on the other end.
Looking back, what is the point of this missive? Probably turn up, celebrate your friends' acheivements and know that there is not much that can't be solved by being true to yourself, leaving when your social battery is about to run out, and that a Chinese takeaway fixes most things.
Okay, I'm very much almost employed. My references are in. There will need to be a police check and the probity process, then the joyful internal processes that all companies have to go through to get you onto their systems, but I got the nod about an hour after the interview. I'll be starting this job on 10 November. It might have been sooner, but there's that pesky Melbourne Cup holiday next week.
Yes, had the interview at 11 a.m. This morning.
After which I ran into town to meet Raj for lunch, then I was off to the library to go for a write. I got the confirmation they wanted me at 12.45 p.m. as I was tucking into a Nasi Lemak at this unexpected Malaysian place on Exhibition Street.
I bought myself a celebratory Coke Zero to drink when I was writing.
After a few messages and emails to my referees, I submitted the info into the pimp’s (recruitment consultants) HR system at 4 p.m. when I got back home.
The references were completed by 5 p.m.
See, simples.
I admit the following, as I know finding work is not as easy for many. But:
I've got a good work history in this field.
I'm known for being a good team player.
I'm pretty flexible around most things - thankfully this is a hybrid role - 2 days in the office, 3 days at home, and no travel!
I know what I want to do. And this is a bit of a change.
I have transferable skills - I'm going back from a job in Utilities back to Banking. Different sectors, similar rules.
I interview well.
And this job is a short-term gig, I'm happy take the risk and hoping there may be more work to come after. (This takes me to the end of February, and any contractor will tell you that any job that gets you over Christmas and January is a very good thing.)
And it's proof that tenacity and a positive attitude bears results.
I realise how very lucky I am.
Anyway, I now have 12 days to enjoy the end of this two-month break, which I needed more than I could have realised. It's let me reset my meds, get back on track with a lot of things, have my writing take precedence over other stuff, clean my flat, play with the cat, and generally feel like a human being again, not somebody who's flitting between cities.
And I'm comfortable in the knowledge that the rent will get paid and the cat will have food.
It's a good feeling all round.
Oh well, back to the novel. Oh, and I better cancel the other interview I have on Thursday - no need for that now. This was my preferred role.
Believe me, looking for work is no fun at all. And it's not easy. And the rules have changed. And there's now A.I. ... and they like to see if your 'brand' will fit with the company. And... It goes on.
Yes, the parameters have changed along with the goal posts, but I remain hopeful.
I received two offers for an interview in half an hour. The first for a software company, full time, in Hawthorn. The other, shorter-term contract with prospects at a bank in the Docklands.
The latter one is more attractive for a number of reasons. Thankfully, that one is interviewing first and according to the pimp, the company normally does a quick turnaround. If this one comes through, I'll cancel the second interview, which is on Thursday and required a bit more preparations.
Another role had an application put through this morning which also looked interesting - again, I may hear nothing back, which is often the case, but you have to let things run their course.
All I know is that I've been putting in the work, letting the universe know that I'm looking for work, following up on leads, prepping my CV and just getting on with things.
I'm hoping that this is all of that energy coming back to me.
I'm glad this happened, mainly because I was going to write about the play I half saw last night but walked out on at interval, not because it was bad, but because I was falling asleep and I didn't see the point in staying. (The Shiralee is on at the Drama Theatre at the Opera House until 29 November - give it a go - it's good, just not what I needed last night - I had a book and a bathtub at my disposal).
So maybe this is divine retribution for walking out on a play at the interval. Maybe it was another thing to add to my cosmic bucket list like being on the receiving end of an earthquake on my birthday (in Bali for my 50th) or standing behind Emma Thompson in a supermarket queue (she's shorter than you think) or walking past an IRA bomb in a bin down Camden Hight Street a few minutes before it went off in the 90s.
Or maybe it way my own fault for trying to sneak a very small pocketknife onto the plane and this was my retribution. It was there by mistake when I went up to Sydney yesterday - nothing got said, but security spotted it on the way back. Again, no harm done - I checked the bag into the hold with no problem. The security bloke was nice about it when I fessed up that there might be the very small pocketknife in there and I'd be happy to check the bag. See, it's a good thing to be friendly and pleasant and to own your small misdemeanors.
Anyway, whatever it was, I've ticked off another existential bucket list item.
The plane that was carting me back from Sydney was struck by lightning. On the wing. About three meters away from where I was sitting.
Disconcerting? Yes.
Problematic? Thankfully, no.
There was, in the words of Jean Luc Besson, BIG BADDA BOOM! And a bright flash of light and some bumps. Over in a millisecond. And some more bumps and a lot of worried people, but the engines kept on, and after a few minutes, the pilot came on over the Tannoy to say that yes, we'd be struck by lightning, and no, there were no issues to the plane, and that everything was fine and that planes, being big Faraday cages, were designed to take lightning strikes and that we'd be landing in about ten minutes.
This was a very good thing - the pilot coming on to explain that all was well. Kudos to Qantas pilots. They're great.
Considering the number of times I've come in and out of Darwin in the Wet Season, I'm amazed it hasn't happened before. I'm also pleased we were on a bigger plane - I'd hate to be in a bug zapper and have that happen.
The woman sitting beside me was also a frequent flyer for work. Neither of us in our regular travels had been on the receiving end of lightning. The way I chose to see it was there wasn't smoke pouring from the engine, and the pilot seemed happy enough, so all was well. No harm done.
We landed then minutes later.
There was a traveling air crew member in the seat in front of us, transferring before joining an international flight. She said she was a bit rattled. After 17 years of flying a couple of times a week, this was the first time she's seen a lightning strike.
But that's my story. I got hit by lightning today - sort of.
I wonder what the next thing on my list of crazy will get ticked off?
I'm in Sydney and it is bonkers. It seems Octoberfest has taken over the down and all of these young people are wandering around in lederhosen and dressed up as beer maids. It's bonkers.
Anyway, here are this week's questions, brought to you by Sunday Stealing.
FIVE things on my to-do list:
1. Get my novel written and published.
2. Get run fit again.
3. Clean the flat for an inspection on Friday.
4. Find a new job.
5. Book in to get my eyebrows fixed - they are getting long.
FIVE snacks I enjoy:'
Most of these won't be known in America.
1. BBQ Shapes. (the Nacho Cheese ones are good too.)
When I found out that this movie was, in part, about the making of Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska album, I had some reservations. The name takes me back to 1986, living at university college, where residents of my floor were submitted to listening to the album regularly and often.
You see, Nebraska is an album to slit your wrist by.
Okay, that's a bit harsh.
Yes Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is worth a look. Yes, it looks at Springsteen's depression in the early eighties before he made it to megastar status.
In this biopic, Jeremy Allen White embodies Bruce Springsteen in the early eighties. Bruce is on the verge of super-stardom. He's come off a huge tour, and he's sent by his manager Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong) to spend some time writing his next album. Springsteen is depleted at the is stage - and his state of mind sets the stage for him to write and produce not only Nebraska, but some of his greatest hits, including Born it the USA, I'm on Fire and a number of other hits.
Nebraska, on the other hand, was released with little fanfare - no singles, no tours, mostly acoustic sessions, taped in his bedroom and only gently improved upon. It's a huge divergence.
Regardless, the film looks at Springsteen's process, and his depression. Flashbacks take him to look at his parents (Gaby Hoffman and Stephen Graham) and their dysfunctional marriage. He also attempts to have a relationship with Fay Romano (Australian actor Odessa Young) which he realises isn't a great thing to do seeing he's in the middle of a depressive cycle.
Yet, for a movie about both music, and depression, I enjoyed this. Bruce Springsteen will always take me back to college, when things were a lot simpler.
Scott Cooper's direction is assured. Although there is little action, the music scenes in particular, are fantastic. My only reservation is the hand-help camera shots feel overused, giving a claustrophobic, almost a seasick feel and Bruce succumbs to the depression.
But this is Jeremy Allen White's film. He's great, taking on The Boss, not only acting, but singing throughout the film. I think there might be some Oscar buzz around this performance.
This film should appease the Springsteen fans as well as anybody who likes a good drama about a man facing his demons. Some might find it a bit slow. For me, it was all about the performances and the music. It's very well done.
Okay, I had two interviews with HR departments in the morning and sent off a couple of applications - so I'm keeping the job hunting up to date.
And other than heading down to Hector's Deli for lunch, meeting a lovely little Italian Greyhound named Gertrude and coming back to eat my Mushie Melt, all I've done today is complain to the Bureau of Meterology about their new website (which is shite) and watched telly.
I've been back from Europe for three weeks and today is the first day I've watched telly.
I binged a show called Boots. It's great. The music is excellent too. Early 90s standards. With eight episodes that run for an hour, it's a good day's watching.
I feel good about this. I'm back on board tomorrow, writing, lunching, seeing a film (I was social tonight at book group).
But it was nice to sit and watch telly for the day.
The Bureau of Meteorology has changed the layout of its website.
The bastards!
It's shit. It's so beige
You can't find anything.
I reckon it was designed by a committee and then created by AI. Only AI, or a committee would select that font. And the
Grrr.
I know I'll get used to it in a week or so, but I don't need these changes. It was bad enough using JIRA and Confluence at my last job having to endure the change of font from Calibri to Aptos. And yes, this is possibly a neurodiversity trait where you take comfort in the way things appear to give you some stability, but this is shit. Like where do you find the effing radar? (I have found it, but it took a bit.)
We weather nerds who love nothing better than to watch the radar pictures of a cyclone hitting land will have a lot to say about this.
On a better note, I'm settling into this between roles lark. I'm keeping busy. I go and write in a lot of libraries, meet friends for lunch, look online for roles, get in exercise. It's okay. I've had three call backs today from recruiters and companies today, so things seem to be moving.
In the meantime, I've enrolled myself on an A.I. short course to get a bit more familiarity on using this bane of the modern world. If you can't beat them, join them.
Today's lessons were looking at MidJourney, an illustration tool.
I asked it to draw me a me a realistic picture of a black cat sitting in a windowsill in Australia using the Comic Noir filter.
This is what I got back.
Then I asked it to draw me a woman going into a Freemason's Lodge in a Paris street - I thought I'd see what comes out, especially as our Freemason's website needs images for our blog posts.
I've gone into novel writing mode. This is a very good thing.
Yet, to write my novel, I have to give myself space. And Ritalin. And a goal.
When I say I need space, I like to write away from home. I need to go somewhere and purposefully write for 1-2 hours. I'm writing on my travel laptop, not my home PC. Away from home, there is no cat bothering me, no television, no jobs to be done. It's good to write with purpose.
I like public spaces.
The domed reading room at the State Library is a great place. However it can get a bit noisy - students working on projects, that sort of thing. Also, there are a lot of people visiting just to see the dome.
Out the back of the Reading Room is the Redmond Barry Reading Room. I like sitting up in the galleries in one of the corrals. And yes, I have continued with the Coke Zero habit. In know it's not a good look for somebody who gave up caffeine ten years ago.
On the weekend, Jonella let me have her office for an hour while she prepared for her birthday party. I did offer to give her a hand, but she had everything in control. It was a lovely birthday party. And I had a lovely writing session.
And today, I went out to have a coffee with EJ. Recently retired, EJ is busy doing a lot of handy man jobs - painting, gardening, fixing stuff up. After bringing the coffee to his place, he let me sit at his dining room table for an hour to have a write. Very pleasant it was too. It was also nice to trial some of the story on EJ while he was on a break.
And tomorrow, I'm having brunch with a friend in Thornbury, after which, I'll take myself back to the State Library for an hour or so.
When I get to where I want (normally 1000 words or two hours - whichever comes first), I write where I think I should go next. It gives the subconscious time to work things out.
The last words I wrote at this table reads, "Dirty, Dirty Harry."
Recently, the ABC Radio took to the interwebs to find Australia's favourite books. I remember writing about it. It was like choosing your favourite child. Here is what I wrote at the start of September.
I've read 73 of the 100 books listed (Two I've got into but haven't finished - The Bee Sting and Shuggie Bain need time, and probably a Bablefish.
So here is the list. With my comments. And please do not cancel me for not having read Helen Garner and not particularly liking Kate Grenville. I know they are national treasures.
From Number 100 to Number one.
100. Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty. READ. One of her better ones.
99. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides. READ. In my Top Ten. Love this book.
98. The Heart's Invisible Furies by John Boyne. NOT READ. (Been told to investigate him)
97. True History of the Kelly Gang by Peter Carey. READ. Such an achievement.
96. Tom Lake by Anne Patchett. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
95. Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. READ. Great book. Magical.
94. Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders. READ. Get the audiobook version of this. Amazing.
93. Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir. NOT READ. Hear great things about this.
92. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. READ. Very well done.
91. The Bookbinder of Jericho by Pip Williams. READ. One of Adelaide's finest.
90. This is Going to Hurt: Secret Diaries of a Junior Doctor by Adam Kay. NOT READ. But I have seen the BBC Series.
89. People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. READ. Love this woman.
88. This House of Grief by Helen Garner. NOT READ. Helen Garner is the one hole in my reading I confess.
87. Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros. NOT READ. Fairy smut. Have other things to read. I do like some of Rebecca Yarros's straight fiction offerings where the fairies aren't getting jiggy with it.
86. Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. READ. Incredible book.
85. Chai Time at Cinnamon Gardens by Shankari Chandran. READ. This was one of my favourite book group books of the last few years.
84. Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood. READ. Not my favourite of hers, but she is amazing. I think this would stand up to a second read.
83. The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart. READ. Great book.
82. Carpentaria by Alexis Wright. NOT READ. I've read other books of hers. She's well worth it. Challenging.
81. Too Much Lip by Melissa Lucashenko. NOT READ. I have read some of other books.
80. A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. READ. Love his stuff.
79. Brooklyn by Colm Toibin. NOT READ. Seen the film, however.
78. The Women by Kristin Hannah. READ. Phenomenal book.
77. Life After Life by Kate Atkinson. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
76. Where is the Green Sheet by Mem Fox et al. NOT READ. Kid's book.
75. The Happiest Refugee by Anh Do. NOT READ. No averse to reading it - should pick it up in the library.
74. The Overstory by Richard Powers. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
73. The Happiest Man on Earth by Eddie Jaku. NOT READ. See the comment re 75.
72. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Schaffer and Annie Burrows. READ. Good film too.
71. The Bee Sting by Paul Murray. READ. Okay, half read, but it's on the way. It's a big book.
70. Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel. NOT READ. Have read some of her other works.
69. The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. READ. LOVE LOVE LOVE his book.
68. Educated by Tara Westover. READ. Very cool memoir.
67. Circe by Madelaine Miller. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
66. The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris. READ. Well done creative non-fiction.
65. Question 7 by Richard Flanagan. READ. Not my favourite of his works.
64. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
63. We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver. NOT READ. In the TBR pile - long standing due to the content.
62. The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
61. Joe Cinque's Consolation: A True Story of Death, Grief and the Law by Helen Garner. NOT READ. Yes, I know I haven't read Helen Garner... So shoot me.
60. The Song of Achilles by Madelaine Miller. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
59. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night by Mark Haddon. READ. The play was great too.
58. James by Percival Everett. READ. Such a great book of revision.
57. Sapiens by Yuval Noah Harari. NOT READ. Have read his latest one, however.
56. The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith. NOT READ. Not quite my cup of tea.
55. Girl, Woman, Other by Bernadine Evaristo. READ. Up there with my favourites.
54. The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion. READ. I've worked with the protagonist. Great book.
53. Prophet Song by Paul Lynch. READ. A hard read.
52. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Half-read. Gave up around page 50, never went back.
51. The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. READ. One of her best.
50. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. READ. Brilliantly done.
49. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khalid Hosseini. READ. I think it's Middle Eastern trauma porn. Others will disagree.
48. The Life of Pi by Yann Martel. READ. The movie is cool too.
47. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by JK Rowling. READ. Azkaban will always be my favourite.
46. Horse by Geraldine Brooks. NOT READ. In the TBR pile.
45. The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. READ. Great book.
44. Limberlost by Robbie Arnott. READ. One of the best things I read last year.
43. All that I Am by Anna Funder. READ. Up there in the favourites. How this missed out on our book group list I will never know.
42. A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman. READ. There are other books of his I prefer over this one.
41. Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart. Half-read. Must go back to it.
40. Dirt Music by Tim Winton. READ. But I can't remember it.
39. Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell. READ. Oh, how I love this book. Movie coming out soon.
38. Breath by Tim Winton. READ. One that I do remember. About surfing. See. Movie made too.
37. The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas. READ. Another Australian author I greatly admire.
36. The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman. READ. Though I don't get the hype. I'm not that into light crime.
35. Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout. NOT READ. Have read other works by the author.
34. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. READ. In my top five reads. Superb.
33. Pashinko by Min Jin Lee. READ. Wonderful saga.
32. Normal People by Sally Rooney. READ. I have a lot of opinions about Sally Rooney.
31. The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. READ. Don't watch the movie. The book is great. Boris rocks.
30. Stasiland by Anna Funder. NOT READ. Must get around to this one.
29. Lola in the Mirror by Trent Dalton. READ. This is superb. He's incredible.
28. The Dry by Jane Harper. READ. Nobody does the Australian outback better than Jane Harper. Her original and best. (The Lost Man comes a close second.)
27. My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante. READ. I get why people love it. As I got traumatised in Naples, it didn't win me over. The series on SBS is fantastic.
26. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. READ. Still one of the best young adult novels ever written.
25. Honeybee by Craig Silvey. READ. Heartbreakingly good.
24. Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey. READ. Also a wonderful read. Great young adult literature.
23. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. READ. Very much enjoyed this.
22. The Kite Runner by Khalid Hosseini. READ. Preferred this to A Thousand Splendid Suns.
21. Atonement by Iain McEwan. READ. In my top ten. Love the book, love the movie.
20. The Secret River by Kate Grenville. READ. I don't gel with Kate Grenville. Such is life.
19. The Road by Cormac McCarthy. NOT READ. It all sounds a bit grim.
18. Dark Emu by Bruce Pascoe. READ. Required reading - the kid's version is very accessible.
17. Wifedom by Anna Funder. READ. OH MY GIDDY AUNT this is a fabulous, fabulous book.
16. Still Life by Sarah Winman. READ. In my top ten. Fell in love with it. Hard recommend.
15. Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks. READ. Up there high on the list. Brooks is a gem.
14. Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine by Gail Honeyman. READ. Adore this book.
13. The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan. READ. Top three book. It's amazing.
12. Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens. READ. Unpopular opinion, but meh. The book is better than the movie, which was completely underwhelming.
11. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. READ. I read this again this week. She's an Irish National Treasure.
10. Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. READ. The whole trilogy is sublime. Long, but fantastic.
9. A Little Life by Hanya Yanigahara. READ. Trauma porn at its best. Not for the thin skinned. Lots of trigger warnings. Huge book.
8. Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. READ. Another sublime read. Her other books are incredible too (The Poisonwood Bible being a favourite of mine)
7. The Dictionary of Lost Words by Pip Williams. READ. A good book, but I'd have this lower down. Put the Flanagan in here.
6. Burial Rites by Hannah Kent. READ. This deserves to be here. It's incredible. Adelaide girl. She's the reason I did my Masters in Writing,
5. Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus. READ. Love this book. Really enjoyed the series on Apple+.
4. All the Light we Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. READ. The book that took me to St Malo. Brilliant book. I love when a book takes you on literal travels.
3. A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. READ. Fantastic popular fiction.
2. The Book Thief by Markus Zuzak. READ. This deserves to be here.
1. Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton. READ. I won't begrudge this being in the top position. My Mum hates Trent Dalton.
This is going to be a contentious one to review. I went with Jay to see this today. I loved it. She hated it. Everything I loved about it she loathed. She put it down to a pile of wank. I loved so much about this film - but it is not going to be for everybody, and I'm ready to admit this. It's not been favourably reviewed on RottenTomatoes.com, although it's faring better on the IMDB.com reviews. I am also posturing that the Ritalin is making me pay extra attention to what's on the screen, making me enjoy it more.
The cast drew me to this first up. Julia Roberts, Ayi Edebiri (from The Bear) Andrew Garfield, Chloe Sevigny and Michael Stuhlbarg are the key players. They're all fantastic.
Also, the film is touted as a thriller/crime/drama. I'd put it in the straight drama group and be done with it - but not knowing where the film is going at any time is one of its strengths.
Also, maybe I'm biased. I've loved Luca Guadagnino's films in the past. Call Me By Your Name and A Bigger Splash are two of my most beloved films.
What's this about? Alma (Roberts) is a Philosophy Professor at a prestigious Ivy League University. She has had to work hard to get where she is. She's married to Frederick (Stuhlbarg) in what appears to be an unequal, but solid marriage. She is very close to her colleague, Hank (An exuberant Andrew Garfield) and adored, almost to the point of obsession by her student, Maggie (Edebiri - if you haven't seen her on The Bear, hunt her out.)
After a party at Alma's place, where Hank offers to take Maggie home, things go down. You get the feeling that something is up with Maggie from the film's early minutes. Maggie is also rich, black and gay - ticking a lot of boxes. When Maggie approaches Alma to tell her that Hank had assaulted her, the wheels start to come off for everybody.
Jay found a lot of this heavy handed. I think she's missing the point. There are a lot of grey areas to navigate in this film. Who is telling the truth? Why has the power? What does privilege buy you? What can you get away with? When is lying by omission alright? Do women have to support other women all of the time?
There are plenty of moral and existential minefields to navigate - this being the big drawcard for me.
Next up, Luca Guadagnino's is cool. With a vision and lighting making everything feel up in the air, you're kept guessing. Nora Barrett's script is tight and relevant. I could also see this transferring to the stage very easily. If you've seen Guadagnino's other films, especially Challengers, you'll recognise how he loves to play in the grey.
The other highlight for me, which was also disliked by Jay, was the soundscape. Envisaged by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails fame, the sound effects and music lend themselves to the claustrophobic feel of the film. Ticking clocks, overly loud music, what feels like inappropriate songs (the scene in the bar is very funny - and relatable) all bring this film into its own.
This is not going to be for everybody. It takes you on a cat and mouse run around the morals and ethics of modern times. It's stylish and harsh. It makes you think.
I rather like this week's questions. I've had a write today - sitting in a friend's office as she prepared for her birthday party. I did offer to help just as I knew that she would rather do it herself. But I've had a write today.
Anyway, I'm back from her birthday party - I stayed a few hours, but after being around people for a few hours, I left, rather drained, and now I'm watching the UK version of The Celebrity Traitors. (It's great fun, particularly as I love a few of the participants.
Anyway, I can do this in dot point form, as that is all I have in me at the moment.
Questions, as always, have been provided by Sunday Stealing.
Complete the thought:
I AM:
Tired
A little overwhelmed
Thirsty
Wanting a day to do nothing.
Hopeful
Watching the UK version of The Celebrity Traitors.
I LIVE:
In Melbourne, Australia
For intellectual stimulation
In hope that the world will see some sense.
I THINK:
Barnaby Joyce is an arsehole.
Russian Literature is overrated
That the city of Portland, Oregon looks like a funky place to be.
I would love to live in Paris for a while.
I am very employable. (Looking for my next job at the moment.)
I KNOW:
That I will get a new job soon.
That I can complete this novel.
That there are good Americans.
That French butter is absolutely incredible.
That I want to have a shower and go read my book now.
I WANT:
The Ritalin I've just started on will help my messy brain.
To lose a bit of weight.
Celia Imrie to stay on the UK version of The Celebrity Traitors. She's awesome.
A jar of the lemon curd that was at this party today.
To be back in pain employment in the near future. (I will be)
To go to bed in the next hour.
I WISH:
My cat, Lucifer, was a bit cuddlier.
I could win a sizeable amount in the Lotto.
I had a European passport.
I'd booked my flights for next week slightly later.
We had free public transport.
I PRAY:
For world peace. Can't ask for much more than that.
The Production: Rebecca adapted from the novel by Daphne du Maurier
The Company: Melbourne Theatre Company
The Theatre: The Southbank Theatre
Runtime: One hour, 45 minutes (No interval)
Until: 5 November
Stars: 4
Rebecca is one of those books/movies/plays which I think will leave me underwhelmed? Why? Well, gothic isn't my favourite genre and they like to do over this Du Maurier classic every few years, either on television or film. The last bash at it had Armie Hammer as Max de Winter, just before he got cancelled. But audience love this tale of a young, guileless woman with few prospects marrying a very rich man, who's beloved first wife has died under mysterious circumstances.
I went in knowing the story. I also went in hoping I wasn't going to have the tits bored off of me. An hour and forty-five minutes in the Sumner's rock-hard seats is never easy, particularly when the auditorium is packed.
Thankfully, this Rebecca is done extremely well.
There are some great things about this play.
First up, the cast are some of Australia's best. It's a four-hander. Nikki Sheilds is wonderful as the second Mrs de Winter. She's never given a name and is excellent as the proxy narrator of the story. Her chief antagonist is Pamela Rabe, who never puts in a bad performance. She's chilling as the eponymous Mrs Danvers, as well as being hilarious as Mrs Van Hopper and Max's spiteful sister Beatrice.
Maxim de Winter is portrayed with the right amount of disdain by Stephen Phillips and Toby Truslove holds his own as the two minor male characters used for intrigue and setting the scene around Manderlay.
Director Anne-Louise Sarks, working with dramaturgs, Jennifer Medway and Zoey Dawson have taken Du Maurier's beloved novel and created something great. The runtime was perfect. A boring play would have dragged - this didn't.
My favourite thing of this production was the staging and costumes. Marg Horwell's set and costumes are incredible, which are set off by Paul Jackson's moody and effective lighting scheme.
All of this makes for a very entertaining evening of theatre. And yes, I think I'll forever be on the fence about Rebecca, because I'm not that fond of gothic literature and I'm very put off by you never knowing the second Mrs de Winter's Christian name (so rude, so patriarchal - it's like they want to eliminate her... okay, which is sort of the point), this is a very, very good production.
Get in quickly - tickets are becoming harder to find - but this is worth a look, if not for Nikki Sheils and Pamela Rabe's performances, but the staging alone.
There's a universal writer's law. If one of your familiars - writers, artists, performers, actors - if there is something on, you make an effort and turn up. Book launches, gallery openings, sound meditation sessions... you name it, you show up. I've even managed a gallery opening in London for a botanical artist friend - mind you I was over there at the time, and it was a pleasure to go. Next week I have to rearrange my Wednesday night training session so I can be at a book launch in Ivanhoe.
It's what you do.
Firstly, to show support, and amazement, in what your friend or acquaintance has done. Support is the primary thing. I will never stop being amazed by some of the things my friends have done.
Secondly, I see this as a paying it forward moment. When (not saying if anymore) my book gets published, I hope some of these people will turn up to my launch.
Thirdly, I was there while she was creating this show. She wrote some of this on the retreat. I was curious.
It's the creative's law. Turn up to your pier's events. They, in turn, will turn up to yours.
Tonight, I went to such event.
One of the women on my writer's retreat was doing a one-woman show at the Festival Fringe. Despite a lot of things - a huge weekend, a play tomorrow night, the need to conserve money and other reservations, I bought a ticket and made my way to the early show.
As with most things on at Trades Hall at Fringe time, you never know what you're going to get. This is what the Fringe is about.
I got on the tram to go. I spent the trip talking to a delightful Cocker Spaniel named Cooper, who was sitting in a bag on his Dad's lap. Dad's name was James. I found this out just before I alighted the tram.
A few minutes later, I located where I needed to be. Trades Hall is a rabbit warren. We made it just in time and sat down in the half full room.
What really impressed me was my friend's courage to put out there some very heartfelt things. Having heard some of her stories over the retreat, knowing that we had some similar history, it was interesting to see her take on things. Was this a perfect show? No. Was it courageous, fun and interesting. Absolutely. Very in line with the Fringe and its values. As her first one woman show, it was amazing. I could never do that.
I wouldn't call this straight comedy - more a spoken word performance. There were some funny bits, lots of double entendres peppering the hour, but this was more her telling her story of how the local ravens became her friends. As she said, there are dog people and cat people. She's a bird person.
We caught up after the performance. She was chuffed that I'd come. I congratulated her on her efforts - which were huge.
Then made my way back through the maze that is Trades Hall, back on the street and walked back to the tram, knowing that I'd done a good thing.
Juliet Sironi's Crazy Bird Lady show is playing at Trades Hall until Sunday as part of the Melbourne Fringe Festival.
It is possibly my least favourite thing to do - up there with gardening, dusting, doing the floors and reading Russian Literature.
I will say that Ritalin appears to be helping keep my focus. Think about it. Do it. Done. Amazing
My doing the job hunting for a concentrated hour a day also helps - it means you get it done, keep yourself up to date and accountable, but you get it out of the way every day, and you get to do the things you like doing - such as writing - or avoiding tidying the house.
Today is make contact day. Getting in touch which people I've been working with in the past - this is a good method to find employment. Old workmates who do similar roles to you. Old managers. My cousin, who might have a lead to a bit of peace meal sessional contract work in a completely different area (I'm good with compliance and process. I could be a decent fit for the work.)
And it makes me feel like an idiot.
We all have to do it. Do the schmooze. Go out for coffees, or lunch if it's somebody you have to keep in the good books. It takes time and money and energy.
It's draining.
Also, it's not that you're sucking up to people for a job - moreover, it's giving the universe a nudge - asking people to keep you in mind if they're called by recruiters and the like. I know I get these calls and messages from friends when they're off contract. We help each other. It's a community.
It's still draining and it still sucks.
But once I've done my hour of job searching and emailing and getting myself out there, I'm free for the day to do more pleasant things. Like lunch. And writing my own stuff - not tweaking my CV. On the really good side of things, I wrote 2000 words of the first proper draft of my novel in the library this afternoon. I think earplugs, simmering rage and Ritalin have a bit to do with this. Writing in the Reading Room is also a joy.
This was a birthday movie - and yes, my birthday was two months ago, but it was good to receive the gift. This film was a gift too. Sweet, easy, no violence, and no need to engage the brain, other than to hop on board this slightly strange journey - which was big, bold and beautiful in equal measure. It also hit me in places it was designed to strike.
It's a fairly simple premise. To inveterate singletons, David (Colin Farrell) and Sarah (Margot Robbie) set out separately to go to a friend's wedding. Neither are taking a plus one. David's father advises him to be open to possibilities.
And then it gets a bit strange. David's car has been clamped. Sarah also has car troubles. Both are directed to a very dodgy car hire place where they're respectively greeted by a cashier with a German accent (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) and a mechanic (Kevin Kline) There are two shit heap cars to choose from and the promise of a GPS, because you know, mobile phones crap out.
And here's where things get a bit silly, but wonderful.
The film has a bit of a Sliding Doors feel to it as the pair are lead to various scenes where both face some uncomfortable truths about their lives. They face up to their regrets - and look to reframing these events. You can see what happens a mile off, but that's okay. Romantic comedies are supposed to work that way. The time in their pasts allow them to move on with their new, shared future. Farrell and Robbie are a delight to watch. That's worth the ticket price.
Although this was a little predictable, there's a lot to like about this film. It's very stylised and pretty to watch. Kogonada's direction is assured and fun. There are some great one liners in the script, written by Seth Reiss, a writer known from some very off-beat stuff (The Menu being one of them)
There's enough to keep you interested in the film from its opening moments, until the end.
Having been in the cinemas for a few weeks now, it's bound to slink away but keep an eye out for it on the streaming services. It's an enjoyable Friday night in sort of film.
Sunday Stealing wants me to talk about the telly. Cool.
As I'm home and between jobs, I've been watching a bit of television - and doing lots of other things to keep busy while the universe finds the right job. Hopefully, it won't be too long a wait. I'm being proactive and positive about it all.
Anyway, here's this week's questions, brought to us, as always, but Sunday Stealing.
1. Name a TV show you've seen every episode of.
There are many, many shows where I've seen every episode. If anything, I am loyal to my programs.
Here's a few of them:
The West Wing
Fleabag
Lucifer
Suits
Six Feet Under
Sex and the City
And Just Like That
The Hour (oh that was a good show, BBC Drama)
The Summer I Turned Pretty (Latest obsession)
Ted Lasso
2. On which device do you do most of your viewing (television, tablet, computer, phone)?
I like to watch television on a bigger screen. Sure, the phone is good for when you're travelling and can't stream, but the television is king. Like seeing movies on the big screen, you get to see more. Watching on your phone means you miss details.
3. Name an actor/actress who would make you less likely to watch a show.
Will Ferrell. He's not for me.
4. When you were a kid, what show did you love?
As a kid I used to love M*A*S*H. I still love it. I'll occasionally catch an episode on terrestrial television - and forty odd years on, it's still relevant and funny - although some of the jokes and Klinger has dated badly.
5. What show do you recommend everyone watch?
That would be Ted Lasso. It doesn't matter that you don't like soccer/football - it's the ultimate feel-good show. And I love Roy Kent.
6. What show do your friends like, but you don't?
Oh, that's easy. Game of Thrones. I watched the first series - it's far, far too violent and messed up for me. I know others love it. Nah.
7. When you watch TV, do you also busy yourself with something else (jigsaw puzzle, folding laundry, etc.)?
I'm ADHD - of course I'm doing something else when I watch the telly. Normally that's doomscrolling, writing, knitting, ironing or any mix of these. It's nearly impossible for me to do one thing at a time.
8. Do you eat a meal or snack while watching TV?
Sometimes. Living alone I can do this without guilt. Besides, the telly is my stand in company.
9. What's your preferred genre (comedy, drama, reality, etc.)?
I'm a drama/comedy sort of person. I'd prefer to watch scripted shows, though I've got a bit of a soft spot for Masterchef and Married at First Sight. Don't hate me for the latter.
10. Do you prefer mini-series (shows that tell their stories in a pre-determined number of episodes) or shows that come back season after season?
I'm rather fond of the mini-series. Get the story out of the way and get on with it. Some of them are excellent. If you haven't seen Adolescence, look it up on Netflix - it's incredible. Then again, it's good to see where the characters end up. I'm thinking of Nobody Wants This - again on Netflix - but that was a near perfect first series.
I thought the heavens were going to going to conspire against me and not let me see this, the traffic being so bad down Chapel Street. Being a 100-seat theatre, there's a rather strict lockout policy. Thankfully, I arrived with a minute to spare and kick off was ten minutes late. I'm glad. I would have kicked myself for missing this 75-minute gem of a production. It also has one of my favourite local actors in on of the roles. Darren Gilshenan is great in everything he does. Jessica Clarke
The second question I was asked, when I told friends that I was seeing this - was this about Job, as in the biblical character, or Job, as in the thing you do to make money. Turns out it's the latter.
I love the intimacy of this theatre. The stage is tiny - around ten meters squared. The stage is set up to resemble a therapist's office, all second-hand furniture and mismatching coffee mugs. It is here we're introduced to Loyd (Gilshenan) and Jane (Clarke). Jane has a gun drawn on Loyd.
We soon find out that Jane is wanting Loyd to write a report that allows her to go back to work.
Love, pulling a gun on your independent therapist is probably not the way to do this.
The next 75-minutes are a tense, often funny, very real exploration of how we view work, ourselves and our responsibilities to ourselves and our working lives.
Nadia Tass's direction keeps the action moving, while inserting the laughs in what is a serious play. Jane feels not only responsible for her job, but the world. Her role as a content moderator lead to what looks like PTSD and burnout. It's a known fact that people in these roles have a very high turnover. Jane had come to a crossroads. Loyd tried to get her to see that she has a role in her breakdown.
This was a fantastic 75-minutes of theatre which had me continually asking questions of the script and plot? Who has responsibility for a worker's mental health? What can one person do to protect society? How do you recover from such a role? And the big one, why would Jane want to go back?
Clarke and Gilshenan were fantastic. Seeing them was worth the ticket price alone.
My only small reservation was the lighting design for the show, which felt a little heavy handed in the way that when the soundscape inferred that Jane was melting down, the light's flashed. I can see why it was done, but I'm not sure it served what was otherwise a great play.
I hope to keep going back to the Red Stitch Actor's Theatre - they put on some thought-provoking, interesting and entertaining plays.
There's ritual in preparing for an in face-to-face meeting. The dressing in unfamiliar clothes. The preparing of the face palette. Carefully lining the eyelids, brushing on the mascara, painting the lips, dabbing on perfume. These used to be familiar actions, but with working from home, and lockdowns, don't often frock up.
These rituals help you find your work persona. Your body moves in different ways. You stand straighter, walk faster. You watch your language, speak more clearly, ask questions, mind your Ps and Qs. It's a version of myself I don't see that often.
Before the meeting I went into my favourite witch shit shop to spin the oracle wheel.
I spun this:
Completely connected, you claim heaven's prize
In a mystical circle your soul will arise,
You'll dance with the gods on the earth, in the skies,
To discover success, where true treasure lies.
Nothing like a positive oracle to go into a meeting.
Regardless, the meeting went well. A company I've worked with before. A small piece of work. Nine to five - in Melbourne. It's not funded at the moment, but there's a good business case. Would I be interested?
Yes.
Does it fit with my ultimate job spec? Yes, and no.
It was a go see. But it would be nice if even three months of work could come my way. No promises, no commitments. Yet it's a decent lead. And four out of the last five jobs I've had have come through word of mouth and recommendations of people I've worked with.
In the meantime, I'll keep looking. But this was a good place to start, even if it doesn't happen.
After this, I had lunch with a friend.
After that, I plonked myself in the State Library and wrote for an hour.
Then went home, watched an episode of The People vs Robodebt in SBS On Demand (This should be required viewing - it still makes me mad.)
I’m having an existential reading crisis. Two books. Different genres. Both great reading choices. Yet I find myself berating my reading, and my consumption of these books.
I picked up a copy at Shakespeare and Company, on the banks of the Seine. A slim volume. Something that won’t weight down the luggage. A Booker Winner - which can mean it’s either wonderful or leaves you scratching your head. (When I say this, I think of Aravind Adiga’s The White Tiger, which I hated.)
This is not to say that I don’t mind a challenge. I love Rushdie and Atwood, and all sorts of authors people can’t get into.
It has taken me a fortnight to read this 138-page novel.
It is utterly brilliant in its simplicity and its views. What there is of a story is that of a number of astronauts orbiting in a space station, providing their viewpoints of life, the planet, love, grief and humanity’s place on the planet.
For a small book, it has incredible clout.
And I don’t feel like I’ve read this properly. I know I’ve carted this across the globe, and it will sit on my little books shelf along with Max Porter, Jean Rhys, they poetry and the plays. All the books I’ve vowed to revisit.
I just feel like I haven’t done this book justice.
Maybe I should read it again in six months. I might. But there is so much else out there to read.
I’ll admit to loving Gilbert’s work. I admire both her fiction and non-fiction. The Signature of All Things is one of my favourite novels. Eat, Pray, Love became a how-to manual of the naughties. I’ve followed Gilbert on social media for years. Her writing is seemless, easily consumed, accessible.
This one is different.
Five-years-ago Gilbert’s partner Rayya died. Rayya was a character in herself, larger than life - in many ways the antithesis to Gilbert’s writerly persona. But as a couple, they worked.
All the Way to the River is Gilbert’s memoir of her time with Rayya, through to her passing, and after her death.
I’m only a quarter the way in, and it’s a very raw.
Skimming the reviews, there’s a lot of mixed feelings about this book? Is this a rich, white woman navel gazing? It is facing head on the horrors of addiction, death and dying? Is it a gorgeously written memoir about the darkest period is somebody’s life?
It’s possible it’s all three of these things.
What’s irking me the most is that I’ve delved 100 pages in Gilbert’s memoir overnight, while struggling to read the Harvey in a fortnight.
