Sunday Stealing Adjusts for Inflation

 I'm not thrilled with this week's questions. They're not my cup of tea - but that's okay. It's lovely that somebody sets the questions every week, and for this I'm grateful. 

According to the blurb it says: 

Back in 2007, Sparky Duck at Philly Transplant played the $50,000 Meme. That was nearly 20 years ago. To make it more relevant to our day and age, it's been updated and is now the ...

The $80,000 Meme

Premise: A philanthropist awards you USD $80,000 with the stipulation that you must spend half on yourself and half for the benefit of others. This translates to around AUD 114,000.

Questions, as always, come from Sunday Stealing. 

1. Of the $57,000 you must spend on yourself: 

a. First you throw yourself a lavish birthday party. Tell us about it. 

If I'm honest, I'd take a few friends to Paris, business class flights, for a few weeks. No party, just hang out in Paris, in style. That sounds like fun. 

b. Then you take off on a cruise. Where are you headed?

You have two chances of getting me on a traditional cruise. None and f*ck all. 

If it was a small charter cruise then either a luxury cruise around Australia's top end, or may down the Croatian coast - but it would have to be a small boat with fewer than 50 people on it. Cruises sound like a fantastic way to get COVID or gastro. They're not my thing, even though I love boats. 

2. Of the $57,000 you must spend for the benefit of others: 

a. Who would be on your gift list? What would buy them?

It's too late to think about this stuff. I'll give the money to charity. Most of my friends have everything they want and need, thank goodness. 

b. Which charities would you support?

Here are some of the charities who would receive money from me:

• The Leukaemia Foundation
• Catherine Hamlin Fistula Foundation
• The Fred Hollows Foundation. 
• Planned Parenthood
• Canteen
• Go Gentle Australia
• And an animal charity of some description - Lort Smith Animal Hospital / RSPCA

Today's song:

Theatre Review: Uncle Vanya

The Play: Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov adapted by Joanna Murray-Smith

The Company: Melbourne Theatre Company

The Space: The Playhouse at the Arts Centre

Runtime: Two hours 15 minutes

Stars: 4

Uncle Vanya is a favourite play of mine. I know I'm not a fan of Russian literature - but Uncle Vanya is the bomb.

I saw Derek Jacobi in the title role in London in the 90s. Andrew Scott made it a one-man show in London three years ago, which I enjoyed immensely. And of course there's the 1994 film version, Vanya on 42nd Street, which you can view on Youtube. Adapted by David Mamet, directed by Louis Malle and having  Wallace Shawn, Julianne Moore and Brooke Smith in the cast (among others) it's amazing, and well worth the watch. 

Today's song:

All Hail Pam the Bird

 Walking to the office on Wednesday, I looked through the Docklands wind tunnel that leads to Marvel Stadium and looked at the twin columns of the Bolte Bridge. They often remind me of Twin Towers in New York, but they're slimmer and shorter and they're holding up a bridge that you have to pay to use. 

One thing that brightened me up - Pam the Bird. 

For the last few years, Pam has been turning up in all sorts of strange places. On factory walls, the back of road signs, on the sides of buildings. People, particularly in the West, keep an eye out for her. 

Technically, she's graffiti. But as graffiti goes, she's a happy little (big) sod who brightens people far more than any tag or cock and balls will every do. 

My other thought about her arriving on the Bolte was how the hell did anybody scale the 140 metre column and paint her on overnight? Unfortunately, the artist was found sitting on top of the pylon first thing in the morning, paint in hand. 

He's been charged with a litany of offences. 

The powers that be started painting over her today. They say that it's going to cost around $100,000 to remover her, also saying that it should be 10 degrees warmer so the paint sets properly (Sounds like elements of Trump's botch job on the Reflecting Pool in Washington.)

Regardless, I know she's graffiti, but I reckon she's art. She makes people feel something. She's inoffensive (if a little inconvenient) She's unexpected. And I wish she could stay.

Bless her. 

Today's Song:

Too Miffed to Write

 I was going to find something to write about. Something that got my goat up. Pauline Hanson. Not writing. Being stuck in front of a screen all day. Getting rained on as I walked out of work at 5.15. 

Nope. 

Tonight we found out that the gym is closing. 

My lovely community gym that I've been going to for 20 years. My wonderful gym that has normal people in it. It's always been like this. Posers don't go to my gym, which is tucked behind a shopping centre, out of sight and mind. There's not an influencer to be seen. The same people go week in, week out. Some I've known for over a decade. Jay and I are the scary birds who put many men to shame with the weights we lift. We know the receptionist and trainers. It's great. 

And they're bloody closing it. It's not a part of their 'brand' which is now high-end and marketed to the poser/influencer types who want to film themselves with their ring lights. The nearest we get to a camera is when we talk to Cleo in Barcelona as she gives us orders on what to train next. 

And sure, the writing has been on the wall for a while. Diminishing classes, staffed hours, the lack of maintenance, but still, my convenient gym, which has well-lit access and great parking, is closing. 

So, what will I do after 21 August - which we're told is the last day the gym is open - I do not know. 

I feel I'll end up wherever Chuck plants himself. Chuck's my Wednesday trainer and he's done wonders for me - I'm more flexible and stronger under his tutelage. He's one of the best trainers I've had - and I want to keep him. He only got the news at lunchtime, so he's looking at what's best for all his clients. I'll have a chat to Hamish, who's been at the gym as long as I have - see what he's doing. I think he and his girlfriend will follow Chuck too.

I mean, there's the other Fitness First site down Church Street, but getting there is a bastard as you often get stuck behind a tram, the parking is variable and it's full of posers. 

There's the 24/7 gym on Victoria Street where some of the old trainers from where I am now train. It's a bit cheaper and easy to get to, but a bit smaller.

Richmond has a plethora of gyms, but this has been my gym for 20 years. It's my haven, my home. 

And it will all work out, because whatever happens, I need to have access to a gym because it's cheaper and easier to work out than to take anti-depressants and go to therapy. And it keeps my arse harder than a breeze block. 

I'm just pissed off. It's the end of an era. 

Today's song: 

A Piece of Architecture

 I have a masonic job to do tonight. 

Writing a piece of architecture.

Eh?

It's mason's talk for a short talk. I won't go into why it's called what it's called, but the Grand Poobah called (not the official name, but The Flintstones made it popular, so I'll use it) and asked if I could string together a five-minute talk about stuffs. 

In the past, I've done talk on things like Masonry and Tarot - which happily go hand in glove. I've done talks on conferences I've attended - all sorts of things. 

This time around, I'm going to bring in the chat I went to the other night, with Stan Grant talking about his book When Words Fail Us. 

I should have known this was going to happen. When something triggers you, it will come back to bite you in Masons.

While I was sitting there listening to Grant, my head was pinging all over the place. Grant has a Doctorate in Theology. He's also a veteran journalist and writer, and activist and all-round deep thinker. His talk the other week was on the philosophies of Simone Weil, communication and silence.

The talk was awesome, but there were a few things that set me off on various paths. Underpinning the talk was Simone Veils philosophies, particularly around life and silence. This is interesting also how both Grant and Veil see silence as a way to truth - not through complicity, but by allowing we in the human condition to actually listen and absorb rather than judge. 

Then, my monkey mind starts to think about masonic ritual, and how silence is used there. 

Anyway, I'm trying to gather my thoughts as to what I'm going to say on Sunday. 

Oh, what fun!

Today's song: 

When You Don't Like The Book - One Hundred Years of Solitude

Some books you have to be in the mood for. Some books deserve to be read on paper, rather than by audiobook. Some books have been sitting in your bookshelf for years and you've never got around to reading them. 

Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude is one such book. 

I know exactly where it is on my bookshelf (sitting next to Love in a Time of Cholera) behind my hairbrushes, near the Rushdies and Atwoods. I've had it for well over 20 eyars. Who knows where I picked it up, but it is there. Unlike the Rushdies and Atwoods, I've looked at these books and never got further than page 30. 

This time I tried listening to One Hundred Years of Solitude. 

I know it's a good book. I know it's a great book. I get that people have this as their favourite book - but I'm not going to be one of them. 

There's a few things I know. For one, I'm not really big into magic realism. It's okay - and a little bit of light literary magic realism is fine. I love the way Salman Rushdie does it. Laura Esquivel is another who uses this literary trope well. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is next level. A lot of South American authors use it - and along with the foreign-ness of it all, it makes it hard to navigate the next. 

The more I got into it the book, the more I got it. Keeping track of all the characters, most of whom had similar names, but with differing circumstances was hard. 

In the end, I got the point that keeping a village away from everything for a hundred years, letting little in or out is going to be bad for the town. 

I also get that the book is covering up a heap of political unrest, junta action and all sorts of things somebody living in Australia will never gel with. 

I read one comment that said, "Come to Colombia, you will then understand."

Interesting thought. 

For me, I reckon in a year or so, I should pull out the paper copy and wade through it again, on paper, using different synapses - maybe then I'll understand what I read a little more. 

(and before you ask, the writing, even in translation, is delicious - it's also very opaque.)

Maybe I'll get back to James Joyce's Ulysses....

Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment. 

Today's song:

Movie Review: The Odyssey

 Movie Number 28 of 2026

The Movie: The Odyssey (in 70 mm format)

The Cinema: The Rivoli

Runtime: Two hours 52 minutes

Stars: 5

I was tossing up whether to see this. 

Really.

I'm also coming at this from a different perspective than most people, as, see, my bachelor's degree is in Classical Studies. I've read The Odyssey a couple of times, that epic poem of Homer's that provides the story of Odysseus, King of Ithaca, who is trying to make his way back home from the Trojan Wars, but after royally pissing off Poseidon, it takes him another ten years to get back. I wouldn't call myself a purist, but it gives you a different view on things. Jay said she was going, I said I'd come along, particularly as it was showing in the 70 mm format. 

Surprise number one for me - how much I could remember from university. 

Surprise number two. This was excellent. 

It's a long film. Nearly three hours - but they go by quickly. (If you need to take a pee, near the end of the second hour when he's on the beach with Calypso - nip out then).

To go into a bit more detail, at the start of the film, Odysseus (Matt Damon) in on a beach with Calypso (Charlize Theron) wondering how he's going to get home. He has no idea where his crew are or how long he's been there. 

Meanwhile, back on Ithaca, Odysseus's wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway) is trying to keep things out of the hands of some suitors, who've basically moved in. Their son, Telemachus (Tom Holland) is forced to go out to try and find his father, while the chief suitor, Antinous (Robert Pattinson) keeps making a play for Penelope. Eumaeus (John Leguizamo), a loyal servant keeps watch over the place, with Odysseus's loyal dog, Atlas (I've always had a soft spot for the dog).

From here, we look back on the sacking of Troy, meeting up with the Cyclops, going onto Circe's Island (A brilliant Samantha Morton), going to Hell to talk to Tiresias, facing off with Scylla and Charybdis, then being one of the Lotus Eaters with Calypso. 

Finally, after being away for 20 years, he makes it back to Ithaca, only to have to fight off the suitors. 

Looking at this now, the lessons of the story are all there, but they're not shoved down your throat, which is good. The fight scenes are brutal too. At times, this isn't an easy watch. 

I'm glad I saw this in the 70 mm format. Made for the IMAX format, any way you can see this in the biggest screen you can is a bonus. You get to see so much more detail. It's very cool. I'm also told that the IMAX cinema in Melbourne is one of the few in the world that has the technology to show this as intended - but seats are hard to come by and are over $50 for the screening. 

Christopher Nolan has adapted the original epic poem as well as directed this monster of a film - and it's been done with the same grace, detail and excellence as his other films. Sure, it's nothing like Tenet, Inception, The Batman or Oppenheimer - but it has most of Nolan's hallmarks. Great settings, a forboding soundtrack, composed by Ludwig Goransson, with whom he worked with Nolan on Oppenheimer. The cinematography is phenomenal too.

To coin a pun, this is EPIC. 

Bravo, Mr Nolan. 

And no, you don't need a degree in Classics to understand or enjoy this. It's film making at it's best.

But remember - the bigger the screen, the better. You want to take this in and savour it for what it is - a great film, done well, with a superb cast.

Today's song: