All names, characteristics and locations have been changed to protect the innocent.
This is how I spent my Tuesday night.
The Main Players
Mrs Dulcie Ogmore-Pritchard - Dowager Pensioner from Dingly - dressed in a floral Dolina dress, (ill-fitting) and constantly adjusting her squealing hearing aid and sipping marsala from a coke bottle. Always to be addressed as Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard.
Bebe Polkinghorne - Jobbing radio actress, dressed in understated Melbourne black, pony-slim legs crossed at the upper thigh.
Anthony "Soaked-up Tony " Bartholemew - lugubrious Treasurer, known for eye rolling, long monotone speeches and his stash of Captain Morgan in the library stacks.
Frau Helene Gudmundsdottir - Well coiffed doyenne of the Williamstown business community.
Dorothy "Dotty" Fields - Grandmother, Collingwood cheer squad founding member - Secretary. Keeps a collection of other teams supporter's hubcaps in her garage.
Geoffrey Carruthers - Long suffering Chairman. Voice of Reason. Stoic in the face of adversity. Was born to be an ombudsman.
Jonquil Curruthers - Geoffrey's mother. Archetypal Good Grandmother persona. Also stoic in the face of adversity. Libran.
Hyacinth Montrose - Jonquil's sister - a slightly more wizened, slightly harder version of Jonquil with a rapier wit similar to her sisters
Myfanwy Jones - silent widow under a grey bob. Likes to knit - a lot. Doesn't say boo to a goose.
And there is me, Pandora Behr, 43-year-old, long distance running, word nerd. The youngest in the room by fifteen years easily. Wet behind the ears. Literally. The humidity of the last few days has been killing me. Not helping matters the night before, due to the heat and humidity, I'd had about three hours sleep. After a long day at work, getting home to down a protein shake and then take off to this meeting, I was exhausted.
The Location: A drafty church hall type arrangement complete with lino floor and formica tables in Richmond.
The Event: The Annual General Meeting of the Mixed Elks Property Committee
This rag tag bunch have decided attend the Annual General Meeting of the Mixed Elks Property Committee. Some have to be there - like me.
Some are there because they want to be there. Maybe their medication has run out.
I've spoken in this blog about my participation in freemasonry. I love my allegiance to the Masonic cause. I love the masonic values and everything that freemasonry provides me with. I love that most of what I gleaned about freemasonry from Happy Days and The Flintstones has turned out to be on the mark - truly it has - right down to the funny handshakes.
A part of being a freemason is accepting that part of life is service. Service to your lodge. Service to your family. Service to the community. Service to humanity.
And part of duty of service to the lodge is getting roped into the Mixed Elks Property Association Committee.
And part of me wonders if this service element of the Masons is a crock of shit. And a lot of me wonders how being roped into the Property Assocation aligns with the service to humanity aspect of freemasonry.
I freely admit to not liking committees. Like meetings and any other gathering where alleged democracy is required, all codes of ethics, morals and values tend to go out the window as soon as you step into the room where a meeting or committee is convened.
And the nutters come out. I think there is something about a committee that ensures that there is at least one barking mad eejit to rock the boat. Just as you need a junkie on the tram after ten p.m. or a male school teacher who wears long socks, sandals and a short sleeved shirt to teach Physics - there has to be at last one complete fuckwit. It wouldn't be a committee if it wasn't.
Bring back oligarchy I say! Plato was right some three thousand years ago when he said that this was the only way to go. Rule by the sane. Rule by the trusted - none of these Polder decisions and constant arguing and half measures that democracy provides where compromises are made and nobody is happy. Rule by the intelligent, informed and not-that-barking-mad elite, I say!
Heaven help me - last night. Oh my. It's four hours of my life I'm never going to get back. And a decision which I know I'm going to regret got made. As of 10.32 p.m. last night, I'm now the Mixed Elks Property Association Treasurer. Voted in uncontested.
I must have been pond scum in a former life.
For most of the meeting I was listening and putting myself in my happy place, which mostly consisted of fantasising about a lanky but wonderfully muscled Swedish actor in some compromising positions. I also started my weekly shopping list, thought about how I can take out the tannoy and the annoying easy listening music at work, pondered how I'm going to train for and get to the New York Marathon next year
I'm not sure what bugged me more. Whether it be Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard talking loudly into her mobile phone after the meeting had started - continuing to do this at the meeting table throughout the meeting. It might have been Frau Gudmansdottir and Bebe Polkinghorne questioning every line on the Treasurers report - not just once, but five times over. Maybe it was that when I was expecting to be home at 9.30 and in bed by ten they were still arguing about the semantics of the word "Subs" that was found in a footnote in the addendum to the President's Report, again, for the fifth time of the evening.
Please remember that this was the first Mixed Elks Property Association meeting I'd been to - my Mixed Elks Lodge voted (read guilted) me into a three year stint on the committee at the last meeting - see, I get a lot of flack for not staying for supper. Thankfully, these meetings are only held once every three months.
By ten to ten, the time had come to find a new Property Committee President. The current Executive Committee - Geoffrey, Dotty and Tony the Soak stepped away from the top formica table. I went and sat next to Jonquil - my allie, voice of reason and grandmother substitute - though at 80, she's only just ten years older than my own mum.
"Enjoying yourself, Pand?" she asked.
"Do you want me to be tactful or truthful?"
"Truthful."
"I think I'd rather have root canal surgery without anaesthetic than be here."
"I feel your pain."
"Is it always like this?" I asked her.
"Half the time. The other half of the time the agitators stay away. These people are passionate."
"Don't they have anything better to do?"
Jonquil sighed. "Probably not."
The election of the new president was run - I ran it. They gave me a gavel - ah, the power. Fifteen minutes later - after discussing semantics with Frau Gudmansdottir and Bebe Polkinghorne about how their Elks lodge couldn't put up members as they hadn't voted them in, I was installed as treasurer and Geoffrey and Dotty were back as President and Secretary.
Another hour of pointless discussion about the auditor's report, the meeting was closed.
So traumatised from this meeting I went home and downed a very large single malt.
How do I feel about being the treasurer of the Mixed Elks Property Committee Incorporated? A little ambivalent. Somebody has to do it. See to me, it's running a spreadsheet, banking a few cheques and sending the odd stroppy letter - how hard can it be? I'm also wondering which one of my CPA friends I might be able to bribe into auditing our books for a barter - I knew enough CPAs to coerce them into a few hours work - well I think I do. Throw in a massage - amazing what a good massage can be bartered for. I have a few other barterable skills, but I'm not sure that they're quite right for bartering the Mixed Elks Property Committee Books for - I have my standards,.
Still you have to wonder...
Just what is it about committees that make you want to club half of the members like baby seals!
Pand
_________________________________________________
Days without ice cream - 17
Accountants
Personality
Bred out way back in the years
When God was a boy
Showing posts with label Pandora Lent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pandora Lent. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Pandora Lent XI
Day's without ice cream - 16
Thank you, Eric
When I'm tired and grumpy,
And the meeting's agenda's gone,
I sit with eyes unfocussed,
And think of you with nothing on.
(I realise I'm paraphrasing Adrian Mitchell - but something has to get you through the most bizarre AGM I've ever attended)
Thank you, Eric
When I'm tired and grumpy,
And the meeting's agenda's gone,
I sit with eyes unfocussed,
And think of you with nothing on.
(I realise I'm paraphrasing Adrian Mitchell - but something has to get you through the most bizarre AGM I've ever attended)
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Back and the Future
Much of my adult working life has been spent in offices.
More to the point, much of my working life has been spent pushing paper in the operations departments of financial institutions. Working with the distribution of dividends, corporate actions, cash balancing and reconciliations, data entry jobs in the back offices of International Banking Houses to be precise.
For me, after ten years of this sort of work, I was ready to slit my wrists. Then in 2003, after a large epiphany, three months on a Greek Island and a bout of deep depression, I made a change, found IT and began to discover that work could be fun, interesting and I could play to my strengths. Leaving the operations departments of these banks has been one of the best moves I've ever made - from financial, professional and personal standings.
So now, in my capacity as a Consulting Business Analyst for a second tier Business Consulting group (all this means is that I work with great people who drink lots of beer, have personalities and don't expect you to do fourteen hour days) I'm in a bit of quandary.
In my current role, I'm finding myself back in the thick of an operations area of a financial institution. Even worse, I'm in the thick of the operations area of Bastard Bank's Retail Operations Area.
I DON'T WORK RETAIL!!! Especially not after my first job was spent in the sub-basement of the an Adelaide department store sticking on price tags - two year of that putting myself through my final year of university part time.
Okay, I'm not in this Gormenghast of a place to WORK in operations - I'm there do document the procedures and processes, that is once I get through the air locks, find my desk, pass the forests of paperwork and rows of fax machines and try to let to foreboding sense of deja vu pass.
I left these kinds of offices nearly a decade ago.
Working in IT and telcos, I've been surrounded by computers and people in jeans - people with quick wits, idiosyncrasies and tendencies towards the autism spectrums. Working on projects, I've been among a mix of megalomaniacs with their own agendas, decent, bright, fun hard working people who strive for the best (these are the people I seem to make friends with) and a heap of very bright people who have tendencies towards the autism spectrums. Throw into the mix guys like Traralgon, Ah-Sole, Danger Dood and the Hot Scouser and every stereotype is covered.
I like project spaces. I get them. They can be fast paced and interesting at times. It's normally varied work. You meet great people.
I don't like Operations Areas. Business as Usual can be as dull as it sounds.
Yet, I'm sort of glad, as this foray into the world of Business Analysis a bit of a soft landing as I 'get' what the teams are trying to do. I get what they do on a daily basis. I get how they do it. It's all second nature. It's ingrained.
And it hasn't changed much in the near decade since I left.
Nor have the people.
Similar people, different office.
Middle aged women in slacks and jumpers who go and find a cup of tea two hours by the clock. Younger women, seven months pregnant with photos of the kids framed on the desk. Young men in their thirties with Supercuts haircuts and short sleeved polyester shirts. Friendly management who try and make the best of the conditions. Same people, different office. Seen it all before.
And the killer for me - the radio is piped through the office.
ARGH.
I come from offices where everybody listens to music - it's what iPods are for! I've been known to bop along to the Pixies while fixing commas and parsing ("You are the son of an incestuous union..."). I do it regularly. ("Vamos, vamos, vamos") I used to have iPod swaps with my old project manager. ("I was swimming in the Caribbean').
In this new office, I've been subjected to GOLD FM and MIX FM. So far I've endured some really old favorites - Phil Collins, Bryan Adams, Mental as Anything - and a personal favorite - Meatloaf.
If I ever have to hear Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" album again before I die, it will be too soon. Just as the CIA tortured Gitmo detainees with the Barney song, I have a similar feeling about Bat out of Hell. For two years, it was all I listened to as I stuck price tickets on department store items.
I know every word to that pharking album.
Hearing 'I Can See Paradise by the Dashboard Light' on Friday was enough to start my bottom lip quivering and the urge to run away to set in.
I'm back in an Operations Area. Joy!
It's only for a few months. I'm cutting my teeth on work things. I just have to remember this and remember this often. And go back to the mother ship of my old office when I can.
My earplugs will get a battering I reckon - that or I ramp up the iPod and play The Pixies, Florence and the Machine, The Rolling Stones and anything that is the antithesis of the easy listening crap they play over the tannoy.
On the good side of things, I'll go back to the project enclave after this stint, the people are friendly, its walking distance from home and the canteen is so bad I'll have to take my lunch in so I will get my diet back on track. And there may be a bit of travel attached to this job with the slight chance of being sent to Sydney for a few weeks.
On the not so good side of things, other than the persistent drone of easy-listening radio, I just have to remember that although this type of work started me on the route I'm on now, it's not what I do any more. It's not who I am. And I'm not stuck there, earning half of what I earn now, bored out of my wits with no way out.
Thank heavens it's not for too long.
I've had a weekend out from things. Went with Jay from the gym to see Rock of Ages yesterday - loved every minute of it.
As somebody who normally doesn't like musicals, this one got me to me. An old friend highly recommended it - and I'm so glad I went. The only musicals I tend to like are the edgy, slightly wrong ones - like Rocky Horror, Hairspray and Chicago. I think that Andrew Lloyd Webber should be publicly executed for crimes against humanity.
Rock of Ages has a Rocky Horror sense of fun, a completely wrong sense of humour and one of the best eighties sound tracks out there. And they give you a fake cigarette lighter to sway to the music with. I'm never going to hear Pat Benetar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" in the same way again. I don't believe that I ever wore the clothes they wore - I've never worn acid wash double denim or gym lycra unitards. My hair's too boofy to have a spiral perm... And the last time I wore suspenders and stocking was to a "Shock Your Mother" party at college. Thankfully all the photos of me in a school uniform, stockings and suspenders in a shopping trolley have been burned.
If you get a chance to see it on stage - do it - though the movie of the stage show is coming out next year. Tom Cruise as Stacee Jaxx should be a hoot.
Other good things to happen this weekend - Pump class with 25 kilogram squat track, meditation, a quiet night on Saturday with a lot of Vampire Porn (True Blood). All good things.
On the not quite as good side - a not that interesting Mason's rehearsal, which was infuriating and insightful in turn and completely wasted Friday night. And lots of vampire porn has made me decidedly horny. But we can't talk about the last thing.
I'm going into middle age - I didn't think you were supposed to get horny any more.
I suppose the latter is a bit of compensation for the fact that tomorrow morning it's back to Gormenghast to look at operations processes which haven't changed that much in twenty years.
_________________________________________________
Days without ice cream - 15 (and brownie points for donating to Trin the scoop of vanilla ice cream that turned up in my skinny iced chai latte up at the 1000 Steps - like who puts ice cream in skinny iced chai latte?)
Unexpected
Sometimes I think of your skin
The unexpected smoothness found
At the base of your neck
And your chest's scent
Where I used to lay
Your chest, my pillow
Your arm, loose around me
Protective and calm
I can never go back
But you are always there
In the recesses
Where light rarely goes
Soft, smooth, scented
Imperfectly perfect.
Protective and calm.
More to the point, much of my working life has been spent pushing paper in the operations departments of financial institutions. Working with the distribution of dividends, corporate actions, cash balancing and reconciliations, data entry jobs in the back offices of International Banking Houses to be precise.
For me, after ten years of this sort of work, I was ready to slit my wrists. Then in 2003, after a large epiphany, three months on a Greek Island and a bout of deep depression, I made a change, found IT and began to discover that work could be fun, interesting and I could play to my strengths. Leaving the operations departments of these banks has been one of the best moves I've ever made - from financial, professional and personal standings.
So now, in my capacity as a Consulting Business Analyst for a second tier Business Consulting group (all this means is that I work with great people who drink lots of beer, have personalities and don't expect you to do fourteen hour days) I'm in a bit of quandary.
In my current role, I'm finding myself back in the thick of an operations area of a financial institution. Even worse, I'm in the thick of the operations area of Bastard Bank's Retail Operations Area.
I DON'T WORK RETAIL!!! Especially not after my first job was spent in the sub-basement of the an Adelaide department store sticking on price tags - two year of that putting myself through my final year of university part time.
Okay, I'm not in this Gormenghast of a place to WORK in operations - I'm there do document the procedures and processes, that is once I get through the air locks, find my desk, pass the forests of paperwork and rows of fax machines and try to let to foreboding sense of deja vu pass.
I left these kinds of offices nearly a decade ago.
Working in IT and telcos, I've been surrounded by computers and people in jeans - people with quick wits, idiosyncrasies and tendencies towards the autism spectrums. Working on projects, I've been among a mix of megalomaniacs with their own agendas, decent, bright, fun hard working people who strive for the best (these are the people I seem to make friends with) and a heap of very bright people who have tendencies towards the autism spectrums. Throw into the mix guys like Traralgon, Ah-Sole, Danger Dood and the Hot Scouser and every stereotype is covered.
I like project spaces. I get them. They can be fast paced and interesting at times. It's normally varied work. You meet great people.
I don't like Operations Areas. Business as Usual can be as dull as it sounds.
Yet, I'm sort of glad, as this foray into the world of Business Analysis a bit of a soft landing as I 'get' what the teams are trying to do. I get what they do on a daily basis. I get how they do it. It's all second nature. It's ingrained.
And it hasn't changed much in the near decade since I left.
Nor have the people.
Similar people, different office.
Middle aged women in slacks and jumpers who go and find a cup of tea two hours by the clock. Younger women, seven months pregnant with photos of the kids framed on the desk. Young men in their thirties with Supercuts haircuts and short sleeved polyester shirts. Friendly management who try and make the best of the conditions. Same people, different office. Seen it all before.
And the killer for me - the radio is piped through the office.
ARGH.
I come from offices where everybody listens to music - it's what iPods are for! I've been known to bop along to the Pixies while fixing commas and parsing ("You are the son of an incestuous union..."). I do it regularly. ("Vamos, vamos, vamos") I used to have iPod swaps with my old project manager. ("I was swimming in the Caribbean').
In this new office, I've been subjected to GOLD FM and MIX FM. So far I've endured some really old favorites - Phil Collins, Bryan Adams, Mental as Anything - and a personal favorite - Meatloaf.
If I ever have to hear Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" album again before I die, it will be too soon. Just as the CIA tortured Gitmo detainees with the Barney song, I have a similar feeling about Bat out of Hell. For two years, it was all I listened to as I stuck price tickets on department store items.
I know every word to that pharking album.
Hearing 'I Can See Paradise by the Dashboard Light' on Friday was enough to start my bottom lip quivering and the urge to run away to set in.
I'm back in an Operations Area. Joy!
It's only for a few months. I'm cutting my teeth on work things. I just have to remember this and remember this often. And go back to the mother ship of my old office when I can.
My earplugs will get a battering I reckon - that or I ramp up the iPod and play The Pixies, Florence and the Machine, The Rolling Stones and anything that is the antithesis of the easy listening crap they play over the tannoy.
On the good side of things, I'll go back to the project enclave after this stint, the people are friendly, its walking distance from home and the canteen is so bad I'll have to take my lunch in so I will get my diet back on track. And there may be a bit of travel attached to this job with the slight chance of being sent to Sydney for a few weeks.
On the not so good side of things, other than the persistent drone of easy-listening radio, I just have to remember that although this type of work started me on the route I'm on now, it's not what I do any more. It's not who I am. And I'm not stuck there, earning half of what I earn now, bored out of my wits with no way out.
Thank heavens it's not for too long.
I've had a weekend out from things. Went with Jay from the gym to see Rock of Ages yesterday - loved every minute of it.
As somebody who normally doesn't like musicals, this one got me to me. An old friend highly recommended it - and I'm so glad I went. The only musicals I tend to like are the edgy, slightly wrong ones - like Rocky Horror, Hairspray and Chicago. I think that Andrew Lloyd Webber should be publicly executed for crimes against humanity.
Rock of Ages has a Rocky Horror sense of fun, a completely wrong sense of humour and one of the best eighties sound tracks out there. And they give you a fake cigarette lighter to sway to the music with. I'm never going to hear Pat Benetar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" in the same way again. I don't believe that I ever wore the clothes they wore - I've never worn acid wash double denim or gym lycra unitards. My hair's too boofy to have a spiral perm... And the last time I wore suspenders and stocking was to a "Shock Your Mother" party at college. Thankfully all the photos of me in a school uniform, stockings and suspenders in a shopping trolley have been burned.
If you get a chance to see it on stage - do it - though the movie of the stage show is coming out next year. Tom Cruise as Stacee Jaxx should be a hoot.
Other good things to happen this weekend - Pump class with 25 kilogram squat track, meditation, a quiet night on Saturday with a lot of Vampire Porn (True Blood). All good things.
On the not quite as good side - a not that interesting Mason's rehearsal, which was infuriating and insightful in turn and completely wasted Friday night. And lots of vampire porn has made me decidedly horny. But we can't talk about the last thing.
I'm going into middle age - I didn't think you were supposed to get horny any more.
I suppose the latter is a bit of compensation for the fact that tomorrow morning it's back to Gormenghast to look at operations processes which haven't changed that much in twenty years.
_________________________________________________
Days without ice cream - 15 (and brownie points for donating to Trin the scoop of vanilla ice cream that turned up in my skinny iced chai latte up at the 1000 Steps - like who puts ice cream in skinny iced chai latte?)
Unexpected
Sometimes I think of your skin
The unexpected smoothness found
At the base of your neck
And your chest's scent
Where I used to lay
Your chest, my pillow
Your arm, loose around me
Protective and calm
I can never go back
But you are always there
In the recesses
Where light rarely goes
Soft, smooth, scented
Imperfectly perfect.
Protective and calm.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Pandora Lent X
Days without Ice Cream 14
frustrating night life
computer crashes again
max irritation
frustrating night life
computer crashes again
max irritation
Friday, November 4, 2011
Pandora Lent IX
Days without ice cream- 13 (though the temptation to get a magnum on the way home from masons was nearly impossible to overcome)
Voiceless
I ponder what it must be like
To talk to the same person
For one whole week.
To have a real conversation
With the same person
Every day
For a whole week.
To discuss more than work
Or the weather
Or what's on the box
Or the football ladder
With the same person
For one whole week
And to not remember what this is like
Is a concept as alien
As world peace
Something to strive for
Yet so elusive.
(Dream group has set off some pretty black crap - normal programming will resume shortly)
Voiceless
I ponder what it must be like
To talk to the same person
For one whole week.
To have a real conversation
With the same person
Every day
For a whole week.
To discuss more than work
Or the weather
Or what's on the box
Or the football ladder
With the same person
For one whole week
And to not remember what this is like
Is a concept as alien
As world peace
Something to strive for
Yet so elusive.
(Dream group has set off some pretty black crap - normal programming will resume shortly)
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Pandora Lent VIII
Days without ice cream - 11
Passport Photo Blues
Blind panic remains
Queueing for unwanted shots
That last a decade
Everyone gets it
The passport photo tremors
That last a decade
The chance to forgive
The choice of crap coloured shirt
That lasts a decade.
And when it comes round
You promise not to error
In your passport shot.
Passport Photo Blues
Blind panic remains
Queueing for unwanted shots
That last a decade
Everyone gets it
The passport photo tremors
That last a decade
The chance to forgive
The choice of crap coloured shirt
That lasts a decade.
And when it comes round
You promise not to error
In your passport shot.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Too Many Books
I have too many books. There, I've said it.
This morning, I was home on my first day off in six months that wasn't a public holiday or taken off for a funeral, and I am surrounded by books. My lounge room floor was covered with the buggers. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with all of them, other than sort through them, tidy them and get rid of a few, but I was determined that by the time Iwent to see Pinochet at 7 pm, my lounge would be cleared, hoovered and tidied - and there would be a pile of books for the Salvation Army or whatever Op shop I find first.
This is what I started with:
Sod knows how many books I took off from the shelves, which were then washed down and left to dry, eliminating over a year's worth of dust. I think I washed the shelves down at the start of the year, but I did it shelf by shelf.
The next task - get rid of some stuff. There had to be over 1000 books sitting on my floor - some of them had to go - they just had to - along with all sorts of other stuff that's collected on my shelves, like a full medicine cabinet of over-the-counter drugs, my collection of elephants brought back from India by various friends and other trinkets, like my little iron statue of Sarasvati, found in a Thai antique shop. (If you're going to India or somewhere in Asia or Africa, please bring me back an elephant - just a little one - I like them)
There are just some things that wont and can't go. In particular, my collection of Shakespeares and one of my favorite possessions - my William Shakespeare action figure that a dear friend gave me. My friend, a bit of a Dr Who tragic - so much so that he has a real Dalek in his bedroom, knows where to go action figures. I've got a lot of stick for this little guy over the years. He stays.
Reference books stays. Books on quotes, English Grammar, Latin, Greek, French, getting published, Saints, books on Judaism, the Kabbalah... they stay. They get referred to a lot, just like the Shakespeares.
The plays and poetry stay. Again, used for reference and inspiration on a regular basis. They have to stay - along with my collection of short story anothologies - they're there for inspiration - for one day I'd love if one of my short stories made it into an anthology. I've had a number of short stories published in the past - it's something I'd love to get into again.
The Harry Potters, Lemony Snickets and Artemis Fowls stay - they all get read annually, being a kid's book officianado. And I also found my edition of "Miss Cottington's Book of Pressed Fairies" signed by Terry Jones. If I need a giggle, this is one place I turn. You see, Miss Cottington decided to trap fairies in a big book and press them for all eternity. It's only when Terry Jones of Monty Python found this wonderful book did it's full glory come to light.
I've got the old favorites, and the favorite authors, which can't go - and now the Sebastian Faulks, Margaret Atwoods, Louis de Bernieres, Richard Flanagans, Geraldine Brooks, Robertson Davies, David Mitchells and Annie Proulxs are together on the shelf, where they should be. There are a lot of other books that that I just love and can't part with. Volumes like American Psycho, The Princess Bride, my books by Helen McDonald, who writes on human disection and remains (fascinating woman).
There's also the big books that sit behind me. A lot of reference books on aromatherapy, anatomy and English Cathedrals. They stay too. A lot of my history is tied up in these books. Books on gargolyles and misericords, books on sexuality, sensuality, women's issues...
The most esoteric book I found - ther than my volume of Geoff Nicholson's "Footsucker" (Fabulous book - don't know whether to be titillated or turned right off). It would have to be my pictorial book on body piercing. This is one of the milder shots.
I've also got a lot of my books from university, a heap of Clive James books that I want to read and see if they're still funny. There's a shelf of stuff that I haven't read yet that I will have to get around to one day.
Sooooo many books - so little time. Though with the exception of book group books, I'm not allowed to buy any more until a few more have been read - and disposed of.
Thankfully, Mack came round about lunch time for a chat and a wander. He works just up the road. I donated a bag of witchy magazines, astrology cards and amethyst dragons that I've been pondering what to do with for ages. His daughters, aged 16, 12 and 8 will love them.
There's a supermarket shopper filled with things I no longer want. Strangely, there are mainly diet books - the Zone, Atkins etc. They can go to the Salvos.
I have another small pile of books to be put on ebay. Commercial success that might bring in a few dollars. Trinny and Susannah are ebay fodder - right. And those bloody Paulo Coelho's - it's taken me 20 years to get to page twenty of The Alchemist, I don't think I've got any chance of finishing it in the next twenty years.
The rest - are now neatly back on the shelves.
I rue the day whem I'm forced to get an e-reader. Books are so much a part of me.
I just wish that they didn't collect so much dust!
So my day off is nearly over. A ten kilometre run, a session with Pinochet out the way, a day of really good eating - as in back in the star calendar regime to get back into weight loss mode in a last ditch effort to make my goal for the year. I can do it.
It's been a good day.
Pand
___________________________________________
Days without ice cream: 10
A Little Touch of Harry
Sleep deeply, young Prince.
The days of awestruck wonder
Are numbered with your soldiers
Demands for commission and rest.
Days of roaming fields,
Green with innocence, with life,
With the hopes of a misled,
Misunderstood land, will leave you
Longing for a simpler time.
The table thumping rhythms
Of the tavern nights,
Imbedded with straw, vomit, ale
Replaced by the beat
Of marching armies footfalls,
Swordplay, falling maces,
Broken carotid arteries,
Pumping the souls out of home fed,
Inbred, naïve followers.
Rest in your sack lined hovel,
Warmed by women you’ll have to forget,
Enveloping the ambrosia
Laws will deny you,
Conscience will forbid you,
For one last, lonely, unregretted time.
Elysium has no place for the powerful
To roam in peaceful, fulfilling bliss.
Your imaginary Agincourts
Will too soon be all too real.
(I'll admit that this was written a few years ago and published in the Mozzie around 2003 - a bit too tired to write - but being surrounded by literature all day, a poem about a Shakespearean character seemed apt)
This morning, I was home on my first day off in six months that wasn't a public holiday or taken off for a funeral, and I am surrounded by books. My lounge room floor was covered with the buggers. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with all of them, other than sort through them, tidy them and get rid of a few, but I was determined that by the time Iwent to see Pinochet at 7 pm, my lounge would be cleared, hoovered and tidied - and there would be a pile of books for the Salvation Army or whatever Op shop I find first.
This is what I started with:
Sod knows how many books I took off from the shelves, which were then washed down and left to dry, eliminating over a year's worth of dust. I think I washed the shelves down at the start of the year, but I did it shelf by shelf.
The next task - get rid of some stuff. There had to be over 1000 books sitting on my floor - some of them had to go - they just had to - along with all sorts of other stuff that's collected on my shelves, like a full medicine cabinet of over-the-counter drugs, my collection of elephants brought back from India by various friends and other trinkets, like my little iron statue of Sarasvati, found in a Thai antique shop. (If you're going to India or somewhere in Asia or Africa, please bring me back an elephant - just a little one - I like them)
The plays and poetry stay. Again, used for reference and inspiration on a regular basis. They have to stay - along with my collection of short story anothologies - they're there for inspiration - for one day I'd love if one of my short stories made it into an anthology. I've had a number of short stories published in the past - it's something I'd love to get into again.
The Harry Potters, Lemony Snickets and Artemis Fowls stay - they all get read annually, being a kid's book officianado. And I also found my edition of "Miss Cottington's Book of Pressed Fairies" signed by Terry Jones. If I need a giggle, this is one place I turn. You see, Miss Cottington decided to trap fairies in a big book and press them for all eternity. It's only when Terry Jones of Monty Python found this wonderful book did it's full glory come to light.
There's also the big books that sit behind me. A lot of reference books on aromatherapy, anatomy and English Cathedrals. They stay too. A lot of my history is tied up in these books. Books on gargolyles and misericords, books on sexuality, sensuality, women's issues...
The most esoteric book I found - ther than my volume of Geoff Nicholson's "Footsucker" (Fabulous book - don't know whether to be titillated or turned right off). It would have to be my pictorial book on body piercing. This is one of the milder shots.
I've also got a lot of my books from university, a heap of Clive James books that I want to read and see if they're still funny. There's a shelf of stuff that I haven't read yet that I will have to get around to one day.
Sooooo many books - so little time. Though with the exception of book group books, I'm not allowed to buy any more until a few more have been read - and disposed of.
Thankfully, Mack came round about lunch time for a chat and a wander. He works just up the road. I donated a bag of witchy magazines, astrology cards and amethyst dragons that I've been pondering what to do with for ages. His daughters, aged 16, 12 and 8 will love them.
There's a supermarket shopper filled with things I no longer want. Strangely, there are mainly diet books - the Zone, Atkins etc. They can go to the Salvos.
I have another small pile of books to be put on ebay. Commercial success that might bring in a few dollars. Trinny and Susannah are ebay fodder - right. And those bloody Paulo Coelho's - it's taken me 20 years to get to page twenty of The Alchemist, I don't think I've got any chance of finishing it in the next twenty years.
The rest - are now neatly back on the shelves.
I rue the day whem I'm forced to get an e-reader. Books are so much a part of me.
I just wish that they didn't collect so much dust!
So my day off is nearly over. A ten kilometre run, a session with Pinochet out the way, a day of really good eating - as in back in the star calendar regime to get back into weight loss mode in a last ditch effort to make my goal for the year. I can do it.
It's been a good day.
Pand
___________________________________________
Days without ice cream: 10
A Little Touch of Harry
Sleep deeply, young Prince.
The days of awestruck wonder
Are numbered with your soldiers
Demands for commission and rest.
Days of roaming fields,
Green with innocence, with life,
With the hopes of a misled,
Misunderstood land, will leave you
Longing for a simpler time.
The table thumping rhythms
Of the tavern nights,
Imbedded with straw, vomit, ale
Replaced by the beat
Of marching armies footfalls,
Swordplay, falling maces,
Broken carotid arteries,
Pumping the souls out of home fed,
Inbred, naïve followers.
Rest in your sack lined hovel,
Warmed by women you’ll have to forget,
Enveloping the ambrosia
Laws will deny you,
Conscience will forbid you,
For one last, lonely, unregretted time.
Elysium has no place for the powerful
To roam in peaceful, fulfilling bliss.
Your imaginary Agincourts
Will too soon be all too real.
(I'll admit that this was written a few years ago and published in the Mozzie around 2003 - a bit too tired to write - but being surrounded by literature all day, a poem about a Shakespearean character seemed apt)
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Pandora Lent VII
Days without ice cream - 9 - even got tempted by sorbet at lunch today, but remained strong.
Spring Cleaning
One thing comes from Spring Cleaning
Is more dust
The realisation
That you own too many books
That you will probably never read
But can't stand to get rid of
Which will only accumulate more dust
As you place them back
On the freshly wiped down shelving.
The other thing that arises from Spring Cleaning
Other than the taking
Of a surreptitious antihistamine
Is the feeling that in a years time
The process will be repeated.
Except there will be more books.
And more dust.
Spring Cleaning
One thing comes from Spring Cleaning
Is more dust
The realisation
That you own too many books
That you will probably never read
But can't stand to get rid of
Which will only accumulate more dust
As you place them back
On the freshly wiped down shelving.
The other thing that arises from Spring Cleaning
Other than the taking
Of a surreptitious antihistamine
Is the feeling that in a years time
The process will be repeated.
Except there will be more books.
And more dust.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Pandora Lent VI
Days without ice cream - 8 (Even managed to go to the cinema and NOT have a choc top - major sacrifice)
True Blood
For lonely spinsters,
The perfect Saturday night.
Vampire porn should suck.
True Blood
For lonely spinsters,
The perfect Saturday night.
Vampire porn should suck.
Friday, October 28, 2011
A Cautionary Tale
Days without ice cream - 7
A Cautionary Tale
Don't go drinking beer with boys
They'll lead you all astray.
They'll pump you up and leave you cold
And send you on your way.
And take no heed of boys with beer
You'll never see no good
For they talk shite and waffle on
And speak of things they would....
You know that boys with beer are bad
For they are filled with grace,
And charm and wit and all those things
That hide their truest face.
But boys with beer are kind of fun
And soppy/sweet in turn.
Just don't take too much consequence
Of crap they like to churn.
The day will come when boys with beer
Will end up slowing down,
And wive's will call, and kids have sport,
They must get out of town.
Yet boys with beer will carry on
Until all time will end
For beer and boys are linked like chain
And hopeless to defend.
A Cautionary Tale
Don't go drinking beer with boys
They'll lead you all astray.
They'll pump you up and leave you cold
And send you on your way.
And take no heed of boys with beer
You'll never see no good
For they talk shite and waffle on
And speak of things they would....
You know that boys with beer are bad
For they are filled with grace,
And charm and wit and all those things
That hide their truest face.
But boys with beer are kind of fun
And soppy/sweet in turn.
Just don't take too much consequence
Of crap they like to churn.
The day will come when boys with beer
Will end up slowing down,
And wive's will call, and kids have sport,
They must get out of town.
Yet boys with beer will carry on
Until all time will end
For beer and boys are linked like chain
And hopeless to defend.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Pandora Lent V
Days without ice cream - 6
I dream of the Underground
Of rope ladders twisting downwards
Into steep, helix-round tunnels
The only exits from these vast worms.
Of sunsets in red, of vast flowing rivers
And of London.
Grey, sunny, enclosed, enlivened.
And I know what I have left behind
And what I seek as I travel these tunnels
Or stand by the Thames
Or stay barefoot and naked on Hampstead Heath.
I had to leave you behind
Not because I didn't love you.
But I couldn't have you trapped
Bound in these unending, dark
Subterranean passageways.
I dream of the Underground
Of rope ladders twisting downwards
Into steep, helix-round tunnels
The only exits from these vast worms.
Of sunsets in red, of vast flowing rivers
And of London.
Grey, sunny, enclosed, enlivened.
And I know what I have left behind
And what I seek as I travel these tunnels
Or stand by the Thames
Or stay barefoot and naked on Hampstead Heath.
I had to leave you behind
Not because I didn't love you.
But I couldn't have you trapped
Bound in these unending, dark
Subterranean passageways.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
The Hard Questions Meme
As I'm finishing up one role and starting a new one next week, I have a bit of time on my hands.
So these hard questions come from the Sunday Stealing Meme guru - and gave me something more to think about and errant commas and fixing dodgy spelling over the course of the day.
1. What is a quote that you love?
I'm going to give you three - all have very special meanings for me:
"Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive." Josephine Hart, Damage. I live my life by this quote. It is unfortunately and terribly true.
"The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact." Midsummer Night's Dream. Act 5 scene 1. This has always eaten away at my imagination.
"I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water." T.S.Eliot. The Wasteland. TS Eliot is indirectly responsible for getting me into tarot. I ponder this poem regularly - it's one of my absolute favorites, and the section with Madame Sosostris in the section "The Burial of the Dead" always says something different to me. Knowing the full meaning of the Hanged Man card some twenty years on I love the playfulness of the whole episode. I also love what Eliot has inadvertently done in making the tarot references.
2. Do you think of pure hate as something humanity created?
No. I think pure hate is the absolute opposite of pure love - and we need diachotomy. They're the flipside of the same thing. Hatred is never pretty. In its most intense form, it is very disturbing - but like everything in the universe it is there as some part of a grand design. I'm just glad that I don't have to witness it first hand very often.
3. When was the last time you wanted to scream?
Yesterday. I was in one of my rare work "zones" trying to get some stuff finished by the end of the day. There is a person around here who I refer to as 'Nails on the Blackboard" for a number of reasons. After four interruptions in ten minutes, this person was the unlucky fifth. I was screaming on the inside. I snapped at this person - something I rarely do I apologised for being such a cow about half an hour later. There was no reason to speak to this person like that - no matter how annoying they can be.
4. Do you ever at times see the world in black and white?
Only sometimes. I'm normally one big shade of grey and see the world in such a way. I see the world in black and white when it comes to injustice - and anything to do with animal cruelty - do what they do to the animal back to them. Simple. Hard line, but simple.
5. Have you ever thought that cell phones are too obtrusive?
Definitely - though I know that I let my mobile get in the way far too often. Leaving my mobile phone at home is akin to losing my right arm. However, I try to be considerate when using it to talk to people in public - especially on public transport. My pet hate is sitting in meetings where people are constantly checking their phones. However, they are great when you want to show photos, they give you games to play when you're waiting for planes and buses and thank goodness for mobile internet. Just turn them off or leave them be when you want REAL people time. End of story.
6. In your life, where do you thank the rainbow will end?
This is a bit of a funny question. See, as somebody who studies the Kabbalah, I think the rainbow ends at Tipharet - when you find your heart and soul. However, if you look at a rainbow, you know that the ends of a rainbow shift . I used to have a window seat on the 41st floor of one of the skyscrapers here in Melbourne. One day we saw a circular rainbow - it was incredible.
Then again, I think the rainbow will end when I win lotto...
7. What is something that you never want to do again?
Yes. I never, ever, ever want to fall in love with somebody who isn't emotionally available, ever, ever, ever again. Hurts far too much.
I'm not sure that I want to fly Tiger Airways again either. They are appalling.
8.When was the first time you realised the world was small?
Walking down Baker Street in London in 1992. I ran into an old university friend. I didn't know she was in London. we were both on the other side of the world. She didn't know I was there either. And we literally bumped into each other. This scene has been repeated in various airports, cities and restaurants across the globe over the years. The introduction of social networking has made the world even smaller. I've made contact with people I never thought I would ever see again over the last few years. The world really isn't that big a place when it all comes down to it.
9. How you spend your time contemplating life’s mysteries?
I do this all the time - though the best way to do this is either sitting in a hot pool of water underneath the stars, or down the pub with a bottle of decent red. If navel gazing was a profession I would be a very rich woman.
10. Ever discuss your political beliefs with people?
Yes, but probably to my detriment. Though normally I will discuss politics at any time of the day or night it's not with fervour and normally with people who I know can cope with my slightly loopy lefty agenda. I love political discussion - but I also like having these types of chats with people who I know will respect my opinion while arguing the point. My friend Kitt and I talk about this stuff when running - we have similar, yet differing opinions - she's just to the right, I'm just to the left - and that is okay. I try to keep my political thoughts to myself until I know somebody - though I'm perceived as a raging lefty by proxy. Thing is, I'm not that extreme.
11. Do you care about the environment?
I do, though probably not enough. I make a point not to litter. I recycle household refuse. I drive a small car. I walk when I can and use public transport often. I try to keep it to three minute showers, I try not to get things with too much packaging and take my own bags to the supermarket. I have a keep cup for my morning work coffee. I turn off the lights and the power outlets when not using electrical items. I use organic hair and skin care. Little things. I know I could do so much more - eat and source local produce, not buy as many books.... and on a grander scale I know there is so much more than I do. Mining grates on me. The fact that our government has the audacity to push the environmentally friendly agenda (Like why don't they have a fleet of Priuses getting the pollies around?) There is so much more we all could do. End of story.
12. What’s your motto for life?
I don't really have one. The closest I have to a motto is " Be positive. Like attracts like."
13. Is progress destroying the beauty of the world?
Another hard and interesting one. In some ways, I think yes - you look at the raping of the planet from all of the "progress" - the deforestation, smog, open cut mines, what is happening in the Pacific with the plastic soup.... the list could be infinite. Then again, there is beauty all around - no matter where you look. I'm looking out my fifth floor window from what is possibly the ugliest building in Melbourne looking over a row of trees, the leaves rustling, I've been watching a small child play with a dog as her parents look on. I know that in a few hours I can watch the sun set - and there is nothing more beautiful than that. I ran around the Botanical Gardens this morning - absolutely glorious. So no matter how much 'progress' appears to destroy the world - beauty is always there - you just have to look for it and open up to its possibilities.
14. Do you believe there is life somewhere else in the universe?
Yes. Definitely. I think it's extremely arrogant and narrow minded to think that we are the only planet in the infinity called space that has life upon it. Even if we haven't found it, it's nice to think that there is 'life' out there somewhere - no matter what that 'life' is. Just because we haven't seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
15. Would you like to rule a country?
Absolutely not. It's the responsibility thing. I couldn't think of anything worse - being responsible for subjects - sounds like too much like hard work. I won't even get a cat because I don't like the thought of being responsible for another life (though I would love a cat, really I would) Ruling a country would be too much like hard work.Being a part of a committee running a country I could do, but to have responsibility for that many people - no way!
16. Do you believe everything has a purpose?
Not really. Somebody might tell me one day what the purpose of zucchinis (courgettes) actually is - cos they aint food. I look at the Melbourne public transport ticketing debacle and I believe that there are some people out there who are exceptionally useless who spent a hell of a lot of money looking for a purpose. And what purposes do rabbits have? None (unless you count calling them vermin or food?) Hmm. Channel 31 - what purpose does that have? So no, not everything has a purpose.
17. Is war ever for the best?
No - but it does have the use of blowing the cobwebs away, destabilising a lot of people often allowing them to rebuild in the long run. See, wars can have a purpose - but they are never, ever for the best. That much heartache should not have to be endured. Or wasting that much money (i.e. Iraq/Afghanistan)
18. Could you kill anyone in defense of self or loved ones?
I think I could. Only in self-defense, but I'm pretty sure that I would have it in me - I think I have access to that sort of strength. I just never want to use it.
19. How do you react to people who don't believe global warming is really our fault?
I roll my eyes, get very, very, very annoyed and try to lead by example - like agreeing with our carbon tax, trying to set my behaviours around a more carbon friendly ways, disagreeing with big coal, writing to MPs about stuff, attending the odd rally - not that it gets you anywhere, but global warming sceptics do get to me. The only person I preach to is my sister - who is a global warming sceptic but chooses to moan. But that can be seen as sport.
20. Does love conquer all?
No - but it does have remarkable restorative powers allegedly.
21. Is euthanasia morally acceptable?
Yes. Quite simply yes - definitely. Not in all situations, of course, but if a person is ill, in pain, there is no chance of a recovery where they have a quality of life acceptable for their standards and they want to go - let them at it. I believe quite strongly in voluntary euthanasia under these circumstances. Saying this, I've also been around the medical profession a bit too long. The term they use is letting somebody go... pumping them full of opiates and not feeding or watering people who are about to die - it happens on a daily basis. This is a form of euthanasia. Wouldn't it be more merciful and compassionate to put these people out of their misery more quickly? After all, we wouldn't treat animals like this, letting them hang around, in pain, suffering for weeks, if not month. Witnessing a few people linger with cancer and old age is not pretty for anybody, least of all the person dying. I think it's time we looked a what is humane for humanity - and I think that is the moral argument.
22. Is world peace impossible?
No. Weren't there three days sometime in the 1920's where there wasn't a war on the planet. World peace may be impossible, but it is a lovely ideal to strive for. 100,000 Miss Universe contestants can't be wrong...
23. Is pride a good or a bad thing?
I think a little bit of pride is a good thing - but only a little bit. I'm a Leo - I have to say this. Pride doesn't have to be arrogance. It can be very self-preserving. Pride in oneself and one's work is also a good thing to have - even if it comes out in good basic personal hygiene. Too much pride is bad - but a little, in moderation, is definitely good. Knowing not to take it too far is the kicker.
24.What do you think is the purpose of your life?
Other than writing bad poetry and answering bizarre questions on blogs - I don't know. I know that one of my ultimate purposes is healing. I'm good at that. I think I'm still trying to find my life's purpose.
25. Do you believe in karma?
Yes. Little picture karma anyway. You're responsible for what you do in this life. If you're a bastard, it will come back to you. If you are good, that will come back to you too. Not sure where I stand on big picture karma - what have the starving of Africa done to the world?
Some food for thought.
Ice cream free days - 5
There goes the escape route
the trees are lopped back
dappled light floods in the drive
the possum is toast
So these hard questions come from the Sunday Stealing Meme guru - and gave me something more to think about and errant commas and fixing dodgy spelling over the course of the day.
1. What is a quote that you love?
I'm going to give you three - all have very special meanings for me:
"Damaged people are dangerous. They know they can survive." Josephine Hart, Damage. I live my life by this quote. It is unfortunately and terribly true.
"The lunatic, the lover and the poet are of imagination all compact." Midsummer Night's Dream. Act 5 scene 1. This has always eaten away at my imagination.
"I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water." T.S.Eliot. The Wasteland. TS Eliot is indirectly responsible for getting me into tarot. I ponder this poem regularly - it's one of my absolute favorites, and the section with Madame Sosostris in the section "The Burial of the Dead" always says something different to me. Knowing the full meaning of the Hanged Man card some twenty years on I love the playfulness of the whole episode. I also love what Eliot has inadvertently done in making the tarot references.
2. Do you think of pure hate as something humanity created?
No. I think pure hate is the absolute opposite of pure love - and we need diachotomy. They're the flipside of the same thing. Hatred is never pretty. In its most intense form, it is very disturbing - but like everything in the universe it is there as some part of a grand design. I'm just glad that I don't have to witness it first hand very often.
3. When was the last time you wanted to scream?
Yesterday. I was in one of my rare work "zones" trying to get some stuff finished by the end of the day. There is a person around here who I refer to as 'Nails on the Blackboard" for a number of reasons. After four interruptions in ten minutes, this person was the unlucky fifth. I was screaming on the inside. I snapped at this person - something I rarely do I apologised for being such a cow about half an hour later. There was no reason to speak to this person like that - no matter how annoying they can be.
4. Do you ever at times see the world in black and white?
Only sometimes. I'm normally one big shade of grey and see the world in such a way. I see the world in black and white when it comes to injustice - and anything to do with animal cruelty - do what they do to the animal back to them. Simple. Hard line, but simple.
5. Have you ever thought that cell phones are too obtrusive?
Definitely - though I know that I let my mobile get in the way far too often. Leaving my mobile phone at home is akin to losing my right arm. However, I try to be considerate when using it to talk to people in public - especially on public transport. My pet hate is sitting in meetings where people are constantly checking their phones. However, they are great when you want to show photos, they give you games to play when you're waiting for planes and buses and thank goodness for mobile internet. Just turn them off or leave them be when you want REAL people time. End of story.
6. In your life, where do you thank the rainbow will end?
This is a bit of a funny question. See, as somebody who studies the Kabbalah, I think the rainbow ends at Tipharet - when you find your heart and soul. However, if you look at a rainbow, you know that the ends of a rainbow shift . I used to have a window seat on the 41st floor of one of the skyscrapers here in Melbourne. One day we saw a circular rainbow - it was incredible.
Then again, I think the rainbow will end when I win lotto...
7. What is something that you never want to do again?
Yes. I never, ever, ever want to fall in love with somebody who isn't emotionally available, ever, ever, ever again. Hurts far too much.
I'm not sure that I want to fly Tiger Airways again either. They are appalling.
8.When was the first time you realised the world was small?
Walking down Baker Street in London in 1992. I ran into an old university friend. I didn't know she was in London. we were both on the other side of the world. She didn't know I was there either. And we literally bumped into each other. This scene has been repeated in various airports, cities and restaurants across the globe over the years. The introduction of social networking has made the world even smaller. I've made contact with people I never thought I would ever see again over the last few years. The world really isn't that big a place when it all comes down to it.
9. How you spend your time contemplating life’s mysteries?
I do this all the time - though the best way to do this is either sitting in a hot pool of water underneath the stars, or down the pub with a bottle of decent red. If navel gazing was a profession I would be a very rich woman.
10. Ever discuss your political beliefs with people?
Yes, but probably to my detriment. Though normally I will discuss politics at any time of the day or night it's not with fervour and normally with people who I know can cope with my slightly loopy lefty agenda. I love political discussion - but I also like having these types of chats with people who I know will respect my opinion while arguing the point. My friend Kitt and I talk about this stuff when running - we have similar, yet differing opinions - she's just to the right, I'm just to the left - and that is okay. I try to keep my political thoughts to myself until I know somebody - though I'm perceived as a raging lefty by proxy. Thing is, I'm not that extreme.
11. Do you care about the environment?
I do, though probably not enough. I make a point not to litter. I recycle household refuse. I drive a small car. I walk when I can and use public transport often. I try to keep it to three minute showers, I try not to get things with too much packaging and take my own bags to the supermarket. I have a keep cup for my morning work coffee. I turn off the lights and the power outlets when not using electrical items. I use organic hair and skin care. Little things. I know I could do so much more - eat and source local produce, not buy as many books.... and on a grander scale I know there is so much more than I do. Mining grates on me. The fact that our government has the audacity to push the environmentally friendly agenda (Like why don't they have a fleet of Priuses getting the pollies around?) There is so much more we all could do. End of story.
12. What’s your motto for life?
I don't really have one. The closest I have to a motto is " Be positive. Like attracts like."
13. Is progress destroying the beauty of the world?
Another hard and interesting one. In some ways, I think yes - you look at the raping of the planet from all of the "progress" - the deforestation, smog, open cut mines, what is happening in the Pacific with the plastic soup.... the list could be infinite. Then again, there is beauty all around - no matter where you look. I'm looking out my fifth floor window from what is possibly the ugliest building in Melbourne looking over a row of trees, the leaves rustling, I've been watching a small child play with a dog as her parents look on. I know that in a few hours I can watch the sun set - and there is nothing more beautiful than that. I ran around the Botanical Gardens this morning - absolutely glorious. So no matter how much 'progress' appears to destroy the world - beauty is always there - you just have to look for it and open up to its possibilities.
14. Do you believe there is life somewhere else in the universe?
Yes. Definitely. I think it's extremely arrogant and narrow minded to think that we are the only planet in the infinity called space that has life upon it. Even if we haven't found it, it's nice to think that there is 'life' out there somewhere - no matter what that 'life' is. Just because we haven't seen it doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
15. Would you like to rule a country?
Absolutely not. It's the responsibility thing. I couldn't think of anything worse - being responsible for subjects - sounds like too much like hard work. I won't even get a cat because I don't like the thought of being responsible for another life (though I would love a cat, really I would) Ruling a country would be too much like hard work.Being a part of a committee running a country I could do, but to have responsibility for that many people - no way!
16. Do you believe everything has a purpose?
Not really. Somebody might tell me one day what the purpose of zucchinis (courgettes) actually is - cos they aint food. I look at the Melbourne public transport ticketing debacle and I believe that there are some people out there who are exceptionally useless who spent a hell of a lot of money looking for a purpose. And what purposes do rabbits have? None (unless you count calling them vermin or food?) Hmm. Channel 31 - what purpose does that have? So no, not everything has a purpose.
17. Is war ever for the best?
No - but it does have the use of blowing the cobwebs away, destabilising a lot of people often allowing them to rebuild in the long run. See, wars can have a purpose - but they are never, ever for the best. That much heartache should not have to be endured. Or wasting that much money (i.e. Iraq/Afghanistan)
18. Could you kill anyone in defense of self or loved ones?
I think I could. Only in self-defense, but I'm pretty sure that I would have it in me - I think I have access to that sort of strength. I just never want to use it.
19. How do you react to people who don't believe global warming is really our fault?
I roll my eyes, get very, very, very annoyed and try to lead by example - like agreeing with our carbon tax, trying to set my behaviours around a more carbon friendly ways, disagreeing with big coal, writing to MPs about stuff, attending the odd rally - not that it gets you anywhere, but global warming sceptics do get to me. The only person I preach to is my sister - who is a global warming sceptic but chooses to moan. But that can be seen as sport.
20. Does love conquer all?
No - but it does have remarkable restorative powers allegedly.
21. Is euthanasia morally acceptable?
Yes. Quite simply yes - definitely. Not in all situations, of course, but if a person is ill, in pain, there is no chance of a recovery where they have a quality of life acceptable for their standards and they want to go - let them at it. I believe quite strongly in voluntary euthanasia under these circumstances. Saying this, I've also been around the medical profession a bit too long. The term they use is letting somebody go... pumping them full of opiates and not feeding or watering people who are about to die - it happens on a daily basis. This is a form of euthanasia. Wouldn't it be more merciful and compassionate to put these people out of their misery more quickly? After all, we wouldn't treat animals like this, letting them hang around, in pain, suffering for weeks, if not month. Witnessing a few people linger with cancer and old age is not pretty for anybody, least of all the person dying. I think it's time we looked a what is humane for humanity - and I think that is the moral argument.
22. Is world peace impossible?
No. Weren't there three days sometime in the 1920's where there wasn't a war on the planet. World peace may be impossible, but it is a lovely ideal to strive for. 100,000 Miss Universe contestants can't be wrong...
23. Is pride a good or a bad thing?
I think a little bit of pride is a good thing - but only a little bit. I'm a Leo - I have to say this. Pride doesn't have to be arrogance. It can be very self-preserving. Pride in oneself and one's work is also a good thing to have - even if it comes out in good basic personal hygiene. Too much pride is bad - but a little, in moderation, is definitely good. Knowing not to take it too far is the kicker.
24.What do you think is the purpose of your life?
Other than writing bad poetry and answering bizarre questions on blogs - I don't know. I know that one of my ultimate purposes is healing. I'm good at that. I think I'm still trying to find my life's purpose.
25. Do you believe in karma?
Yes. Little picture karma anyway. You're responsible for what you do in this life. If you're a bastard, it will come back to you. If you are good, that will come back to you too. Not sure where I stand on big picture karma - what have the starving of Africa done to the world?
Some food for thought.
Ice cream free days - 5
There goes the escape route
the trees are lopped back
dappled light floods in the drive
the possum is toast
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Pandora Lent IV
Ice cream free days - 4
Refuse
Somewhere among the seeping coffee grains
The tin can lids, dismembered envelopes
Vegetable peelings and useless information
Posted on unwanted flyers
Raindrenched and unread.
Somewhere beneath this mess
Lies your resentment
And my disappointment
At the knowledge that finally
We have found a routine
And setttled.
Refuse
Somewhere among the seeping coffee grains
The tin can lids, dismembered envelopes
Vegetable peelings and useless information
Posted on unwanted flyers
Raindrenched and unread.
Somewhere beneath this mess
Lies your resentment
And my disappointment
At the knowledge that finally
We have found a routine
And setttled.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Pandora Lent III
Ice cream free days - 3 (Just don't ask about beer and chips)
Sonnet
It's not wrong to say that I like you better naked
Still, dozing, gently breathing, clutching the top sheet,
Eyelids fluttering in a dreamstate unwanted
Mouthing unheard conversations, rotating feet.
It cannot be right to think that I love you more silent
Undreaming of a life I cannot understand
For this is the time that you become transparent
And no willing complications come to force my hand.
For I only know you fully when you fall asleep
And the pains of the day depart from your sad eyes
The hostilities of our time together steep
In a place where there are no cries, no hurt, no lies.
I wish I could know your joys, your sadness, your pains
Aside from the lovely beast that sleep contains.
Sonnet
It's not wrong to say that I like you better naked
Still, dozing, gently breathing, clutching the top sheet,
Eyelids fluttering in a dreamstate unwanted
Mouthing unheard conversations, rotating feet.
It cannot be right to think that I love you more silent
Undreaming of a life I cannot understand
For this is the time that you become transparent
And no willing complications come to force my hand.
For I only know you fully when you fall asleep
And the pains of the day depart from your sad eyes
The hostilities of our time together steep
In a place where there are no cries, no hurt, no lies.
I wish I could know your joys, your sadness, your pains
Aside from the lovely beast that sleep contains.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Pandora Lent II
Ice cream free days: 2
Consumption
We no longer expire from consumption.
The overtaking of heart
As the lungs, failing, full, wet,
No longer have the chance to breathe.
The heart drowning
Under the weight of water.
Don't we feel the same now?
The immersion in emotion
That overtakes our being?
The heart unsuppressed, untethered, unresponsive.
Or maybe unable to feel,
We constantly choke down the dramas of the day,
No longer taking in the cool air of freedom.
Consumption
We no longer expire from consumption.
The overtaking of heart
As the lungs, failing, full, wet,
No longer have the chance to breathe.
The heart drowning
Under the weight of water.
Don't we feel the same now?
The immersion in emotion
That overtakes our being?
The heart unsuppressed, untethered, unresponsive.
Or maybe unable to feel,
We constantly choke down the dramas of the day,
No longer taking in the cool air of freedom.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The Good Day
For a day where I left home before nine and arrived home some twelve hours later, today goes down as one of the better ones in a long while.
After feeding Em's cat, going to meditation and having breakfast with the girls, I made my way down to Popeye's for a cup of coffee, where I got to meet my new canine godchild. Most people collect nephews and nieces, I appear to collect animals to feed and nurture when their owners are away. This weekend I'm feeding Leon (Em's cat). I'll visit the Maow Maow tomorrow, two of my standard charges - but today, I met Gypsy, who has me down as "If my owners can't be found, contact this mad woman" on her microchip.
Gypsy's a small, round antithesis of a Rhodesian Ridgeback. A fluffy Pomeranian arrangement with a flat ribbon bit on her back. Lovely mutt. I sat down and she plonked herself in my lap. I think I'm in!
Following the quick visit to Popeye, I made the hour's drive down to Rye to read at a hen's party. This is the third one of these I've done in a fortnight.
However, it's only the fourth time I've been down the Mornington Peninsula. Two beer club fishing trips and a day wine tasting with Reindert.
I really don't get out of the city enough.
Driving up to the base of a large hill an hour later(Shirley got me there without an issue) I used the crampons and ropes supplied to get up the driveway. Greeted by the maid of honour, I was shown around a magnificent holiday rental house, met the group, reassured them that they weren't going to be told they were going to die and I was lead off to a bedroom where I set up for reading.
Setting up for a reading mean throwing my cards down on the bed and taking off my shoes.
Spent a glorious two hours reading for a group of older women. It appears the Gods of Tarot were on my side today - it appears I was on the money. As always, I made one person cry, but that is the norm. Seriously fantastic, interesting, loving people. I like reading for groups like this. A real array of professionals, stay at home mums, older women - fun, intelligent people. I had a ball. Stayed half an hour longer free of charge just for the pure pleasure of reading for great people.
I love my tarot gigs, but days like this are the ones that feed my soul.
Once that was done, it was time for me. Real me time. Time for a treat. Time to knock another things off the bucket list of things to do.
I've lived in Melbourne for twelve years - but I rarely make it out of the city. There are so many places that I want to go in Victoria, but I use the excuse that I have nobody to go with to no go anywhere. I've been down the Great Ocean Road once - because Glen Waverley wanted to go for a drive. Rutherglen got done when Reindert and I drove a friend's campervan back from Newcastle. Sam and I went to a winery just out of Bairnsdale once, because the wine is exquisite. That was years ago. And other than the odd trip to Ballarat, Bendigo, the wine regions and the long drive down the Western Highway to Adelaide - I've been nowhere.
So, today's treat - to make the trip really worthwhile, not knowing that the crowd would be so good - I stopped in at the Peninsula Hot Springs just out of Rye.
Absolutely magic is an understatement.
Rocking up at around five 'o'clock I wondered if I'd made a good call - it was cool, overcast and drizzly sort of day. I paid my money, changed into my swimmers and looked around. Large steaming pools, paths leading out to the bush and best of all - an area which was signed "Adults Only". This doesn't mean it was for naked use - just no kids - which suited me just fine.
There are two complexes. A spa area which does private baths, massages and the like - a bit more exclusive and no children are permitted. Then there is the Bath House area, a bit cheaper to get into, kids are allowed under supervision, and it was the the place I went, which was just magic.
Wandering through the bush in my bathers, towel over my shoulder, thongs slapping, dunking myself in various pools of differing temperatures, letting the soothing mineral springs take away the cares of the day was a lovely way to spend the rest of the afternoon.
Of the two places I loved the most - the hot pool at the top of the hill that had a view over the better part of the Mornington Peninsula was up there - a scorching 43 degrees, it was at that nearly-too-hot-bath temperature - I managed five minutes before going off in search of a cooler pool.
Just sitting in the warm pools, looking at the dimming light, listening to the bird song, lazing the day away - what more can you ask for. Despite the parade of semi-naked people from every corner of the globe, the centre has an eerie peace to it. I reckon it would be fantastic to go there on a cold, rainy winter's night.
The other place that blew my mind was the recently constructed Hammam complex. Being a huge fan of Turkish baths, I went into the steamy, marble building and just sat. Memories of Granada and time in the Hammam there there came flooding back. I'd go back there tomorrow just for this. (But the way, the background shot of this blog is of the roof of the Hammam at the Alhambra in Granada - the one at the Rye Springs is nowhere near as fancy or old, but it still brought back memories.)
After a turn in the sauna, a quick dip in the cold plunge pool, I showered, changed and made my way home.
Now, I'm just relaxed, a bit tired and my skin feels incredible. Such is the joy of mineral springs. If you're down that way, make a point of dropping in. It's so worth it.
Days really don't get much better than this.
If I pull off the prediction that France will win the Rugby World Cup by two or three points tomorrow, well that will make for a stellar weekend. (I got the Australia result and the spread right - but I'm not sure I have this one on the money)
But we can't ask for too much more.
The only thing that would have made this day even better would be if somebody was here to share it with me.
Pand xx
_________________________________________________________________
Ice cream free days: 1
Waiting for the Moon
Peace arrives over a blackened beach
Where darkening waters undulate
A song so silent
Only the sand can understand
The rhythms of the timeless Godless sea.
The first star dares to shine show it's face
As it gently pierces the sheen
Of the velvet silk of the sky.
"I am Venus!" she cries,
Waiting for someone to notice her glory.
Other stars shyly follow her lead,
Sometimes hiding
Behind the deepening blue,
Before standing it's ground
And waiting to be counted by the world.
So you sit, and wait, for the moon,
On this black and silent beach,
Searching the horizon,
For the first signs of life, of light.
Wondering if your wait will be worth it.
After feeding Em's cat, going to meditation and having breakfast with the girls, I made my way down to Popeye's for a cup of coffee, where I got to meet my new canine godchild. Most people collect nephews and nieces, I appear to collect animals to feed and nurture when their owners are away. This weekend I'm feeding Leon (Em's cat). I'll visit the Maow Maow tomorrow, two of my standard charges - but today, I met Gypsy, who has me down as "If my owners can't be found, contact this mad woman" on her microchip.
Gypsy's a small, round antithesis of a Rhodesian Ridgeback. A fluffy Pomeranian arrangement with a flat ribbon bit on her back. Lovely mutt. I sat down and she plonked herself in my lap. I think I'm in!
Following the quick visit to Popeye, I made the hour's drive down to Rye to read at a hen's party. This is the third one of these I've done in a fortnight.
However, it's only the fourth time I've been down the Mornington Peninsula. Two beer club fishing trips and a day wine tasting with Reindert.
I really don't get out of the city enough.
Driving up to the base of a large hill an hour later(Shirley got me there without an issue) I used the crampons and ropes supplied to get up the driveway. Greeted by the maid of honour, I was shown around a magnificent holiday rental house, met the group, reassured them that they weren't going to be told they were going to die and I was lead off to a bedroom where I set up for reading.
Setting up for a reading mean throwing my cards down on the bed and taking off my shoes.
Spent a glorious two hours reading for a group of older women. It appears the Gods of Tarot were on my side today - it appears I was on the money. As always, I made one person cry, but that is the norm. Seriously fantastic, interesting, loving people. I like reading for groups like this. A real array of professionals, stay at home mums, older women - fun, intelligent people. I had a ball. Stayed half an hour longer free of charge just for the pure pleasure of reading for great people.
I love my tarot gigs, but days like this are the ones that feed my soul.
Once that was done, it was time for me. Real me time. Time for a treat. Time to knock another things off the bucket list of things to do.
I've lived in Melbourne for twelve years - but I rarely make it out of the city. There are so many places that I want to go in Victoria, but I use the excuse that I have nobody to go with to no go anywhere. I've been down the Great Ocean Road once - because Glen Waverley wanted to go for a drive. Rutherglen got done when Reindert and I drove a friend's campervan back from Newcastle. Sam and I went to a winery just out of Bairnsdale once, because the wine is exquisite. That was years ago. And other than the odd trip to Ballarat, Bendigo, the wine regions and the long drive down the Western Highway to Adelaide - I've been nowhere.
So, today's treat - to make the trip really worthwhile, not knowing that the crowd would be so good - I stopped in at the Peninsula Hot Springs just out of Rye.
Absolutely magic is an understatement.
Rocking up at around five 'o'clock I wondered if I'd made a good call - it was cool, overcast and drizzly sort of day. I paid my money, changed into my swimmers and looked around. Large steaming pools, paths leading out to the bush and best of all - an area which was signed "Adults Only". This doesn't mean it was for naked use - just no kids - which suited me just fine.
There are two complexes. A spa area which does private baths, massages and the like - a bit more exclusive and no children are permitted. Then there is the Bath House area, a bit cheaper to get into, kids are allowed under supervision, and it was the the place I went, which was just magic.
Wandering through the bush in my bathers, towel over my shoulder, thongs slapping, dunking myself in various pools of differing temperatures, letting the soothing mineral springs take away the cares of the day was a lovely way to spend the rest of the afternoon.
Of the two places I loved the most - the hot pool at the top of the hill that had a view over the better part of the Mornington Peninsula was up there - a scorching 43 degrees, it was at that nearly-too-hot-bath temperature - I managed five minutes before going off in search of a cooler pool.
Just sitting in the warm pools, looking at the dimming light, listening to the bird song, lazing the day away - what more can you ask for. Despite the parade of semi-naked people from every corner of the globe, the centre has an eerie peace to it. I reckon it would be fantastic to go there on a cold, rainy winter's night.
The other place that blew my mind was the recently constructed Hammam complex. Being a huge fan of Turkish baths, I went into the steamy, marble building and just sat. Memories of Granada and time in the Hammam there there came flooding back. I'd go back there tomorrow just for this. (But the way, the background shot of this blog is of the roof of the Hammam at the Alhambra in Granada - the one at the Rye Springs is nowhere near as fancy or old, but it still brought back memories.)
After a turn in the sauna, a quick dip in the cold plunge pool, I showered, changed and made my way home.
Now, I'm just relaxed, a bit tired and my skin feels incredible. Such is the joy of mineral springs. If you're down that way, make a point of dropping in. It's so worth it.
Days really don't get much better than this.
If I pull off the prediction that France will win the Rugby World Cup by two or three points tomorrow, well that will make for a stellar weekend. (I got the Australia result and the spread right - but I'm not sure I have this one on the money)
But we can't ask for too much more.
The only thing that would have made this day even better would be if somebody was here to share it with me.
Pand xx
_________________________________________________________________
Ice cream free days: 1
Waiting for the Moon
Peace arrives over a blackened beach
Where darkening waters undulate
A song so silent
Only the sand can understand
The rhythms of the timeless Godless sea.
The first star dares to shine show it's face
As it gently pierces the sheen
Of the velvet silk of the sky.
"I am Venus!" she cries,
Waiting for someone to notice her glory.
Other stars shyly follow her lead,
Sometimes hiding
Behind the deepening blue,
Before standing it's ground
And waiting to be counted by the world.
So you sit, and wait, for the moon,
On this black and silent beach,
Searching the horizon,
For the first signs of life, of light.
Wondering if your wait will be worth it.
Friday, October 21, 2011
My Version of Lent
As regular readers will be aware, I'm not a Christian. Nor am I a Muslim, a Jew, a Buddhist, a Shinto, an atheist, a Wiccan (well, I'm sort of a wWccan...) or from any other traditional religious bent.
However, I'm feeling the real need to buckle down and have some contemplation time. A time of readjusting. A time where I can integrate some of the learnings of the year in a meaningful way and really find out what it is I've come to.
It's been a big year - I need this consolidation time.
So, this will be my version of Lent. Just at the other end of the year and without the penance attached to the Jesus worship. Or it could be seen as a Pandora's personal version of Ramadan - just without the fasting. Maybe this could be seen as a longer version of Yom Kippur - considering the actions of the last while and bringing things back into balance.
I have forty days to do this - forty days is the normal time to do a personal pilgrimage like this. Which will take me to the end of November.
So, for the next forty days.
I'm giving up ice cream. No ice cream. That is the sacrifice section. My crutch will not be available to me in any way for forty days. Phah, you say - what sort of sacrifice is that.?
Well, I see ice cream as the sixth food group. It's a family trait. If I don't have ice cream every few days things start to slide. I'll admit that more of the cold creamy stuff has been sneaking into my diet of late. It's time to address this properly and bring it back into balance.
After all, I'm ten months clean of fast food - what is 40 days without ice cream? I don't crave fast food any more - thank goodness) Maybe it will slake my need for the stuff.
Saying this, giving up ice cream is going to be harder than you will ever know.
But as with all good periods of Lent type activities, you need celebrations too.
And again, this needs to be a personal thing.
My celebration will be to write a poem a day. A short poem. Some days it may just be a haiku. Other days something a bit more substantial.
For without poetry, who are we? After all, a poem looks at the world the way a woman looks at a man (I'm misquoting Wallace Stevens here). I think it's time I rediscovered Pandora the Poet again. I miss her. She disappeared with my muse a few years ago. It's a part of me that's been lost for a long time. In many ways, she's my true essence - hidden from sight like the ghost of a red-headed step-child.
It's going to be an interesting experiment (Dodgy poetry aside)
So, here's today's offering.
Wish me luck
_______________________________________________
Twenty One Ten
Mirrored, marbled streets slip under heels
As riot police arch-backed stare at feral campers
Angry under a bronzed Burke and Wills.
Let's take over the city.
Let's not.
The 109 stalls behind a bank of snail paced snail cones.
Today we walk in the rain. Late. Damp. Calm.
Unconcerned by the MungBeanStandOff.
Florence and the Machine drums on relentlessly,
A silent scream between the ears,
Unheard by the ferals
Unheard by the riot police.
As the dog days are probably not over.
However, I'm feeling the real need to buckle down and have some contemplation time. A time of readjusting. A time where I can integrate some of the learnings of the year in a meaningful way and really find out what it is I've come to.
It's been a big year - I need this consolidation time.
So, this will be my version of Lent. Just at the other end of the year and without the penance attached to the Jesus worship. Or it could be seen as a Pandora's personal version of Ramadan - just without the fasting. Maybe this could be seen as a longer version of Yom Kippur - considering the actions of the last while and bringing things back into balance.
I have forty days to do this - forty days is the normal time to do a personal pilgrimage like this. Which will take me to the end of November.
So, for the next forty days.
I'm giving up ice cream. No ice cream. That is the sacrifice section. My crutch will not be available to me in any way for forty days. Phah, you say - what sort of sacrifice is that.?
Well, I see ice cream as the sixth food group. It's a family trait. If I don't have ice cream every few days things start to slide. I'll admit that more of the cold creamy stuff has been sneaking into my diet of late. It's time to address this properly and bring it back into balance.
After all, I'm ten months clean of fast food - what is 40 days without ice cream? I don't crave fast food any more - thank goodness) Maybe it will slake my need for the stuff.
Saying this, giving up ice cream is going to be harder than you will ever know.
But as with all good periods of Lent type activities, you need celebrations too.
And again, this needs to be a personal thing.
My celebration will be to write a poem a day. A short poem. Some days it may just be a haiku. Other days something a bit more substantial.
For without poetry, who are we? After all, a poem looks at the world the way a woman looks at a man (I'm misquoting Wallace Stevens here). I think it's time I rediscovered Pandora the Poet again. I miss her. She disappeared with my muse a few years ago. It's a part of me that's been lost for a long time. In many ways, she's my true essence - hidden from sight like the ghost of a red-headed step-child.
It's going to be an interesting experiment (Dodgy poetry aside)
So, here's today's offering.
Wish me luck
_______________________________________________
Twenty One Ten
Mirrored, marbled streets slip under heels
As riot police arch-backed stare at feral campers
Angry under a bronzed Burke and Wills.
Let's take over the city.
Let's not.
The 109 stalls behind a bank of snail paced snail cones.
Today we walk in the rain. Late. Damp. Calm.
Unconcerned by the MungBeanStandOff.
Florence and the Machine drums on relentlessly,
A silent scream between the ears,
Unheard by the ferals
Unheard by the riot police.
As the dog days are probably not over.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)