Who knew that a fairytale could have so many good feminist messages about going against the grain, being kind and accepting people for who and what they are?
Wicker provides this in spades.
It’s wonderfully bonkers, but with Olivia Colman and Alexander Skarsgard in the lead roles, it was bound to be a bit left of centre.
I loved this. It was predestined. Written in the stars and a part of the moon cycle. It's the perfect film to go to with your friends, sit back and enjoy.
The story is based on a short story, The Wicker Husband by Ursula Wills.
It tells the tale of the local fisherwoman (Olivia Colman), ostracised by the village locals for not conforming to the social norms of the day. Unmarried, she lives alone outside of the village. The rest of the women in the town are kept under then thumbs of their rather tedious husbands. Women are married by having a metal collar placed around their necks. Joy.
After a wedding tradition goes wrong, where she does the equivalent of catching the bouquet at the wedding, she asks the local basket weaver (Peter Dinklage) to make her a husband. This he does.
A month later the fisherwoman turns up at the church and her husband is present in the wicker form of Alexander Skarsgard. Oh my. The basket weaver did a bloody good job.
The other thing about the wicker husband is that he lacks the social norms that have made the men so, to be frank, awful. The wicker husband is kind, attentive, helpful. He pays lots of attention to his bride, who doesn't always know what to do with all of this.
The women of the village, particularly the tailor's wife (Elizabeth Debicki) aren't happy with this. They get jealous and start rumours about the wicker husband. The men of the village can't see what they're doing wrong - like they've always had control of their wives.
In the end, all of the rumours and back biting come to a head, with consequences for the whole town .
I will say no more.
Anything with Olivia Colman in it is going to be wonderful. She's brilliant in this. Alexander Skarsgard, under some amazing makeup and costumes, is perfect as her wicker groom. And the rest of the town is a hoot. Nobody has a name. The dishwasher, the drunk, the tailor and their wives. It's very cool.
Eleanor Wilson and Alex Huston Fischer have done a wonderful job of writing and directing this joyous fable about finding your person, no matter what the greater society says about your choices. As gorgeous as this film is, the feminist message is strong, but not that is slaps you about the face.
I’m an adult. This means that when the tyre light goes off in my car, I make my way to a servo to check the tyres. Because I am an adult. I’m also going down the Great Ocean Road on the weekend, the last thing I need is a flat tyre. Considering when I checked the tyres yesterday, the back driver’s side one was down to 5 PSI, this had to be done fast.
I rang what used to be called Kmart Tyre and Auto (not rebranded with a new wanky corporate name). They couldn’t fit me in at the Richmond Branch, but they could get me into the one in Brunswick at 11 am.
It me, Brunswick is another country.
I live in Richmond. I get Richmond. I love the different pockets or Richmond, its ever changing viewpoints and cafes and ‘flora and fauna’ as one of my neighbours calls it. (This is the same neighbour who dobbed in my friend Lola the Border Collie, who comes to work with her builder dad and demands snacks at the back doors of the local restaurants.) I’m used to the community.
I don’t feel that in Brunswick.
Regardless, the tyre needs fixing, tomorrow is a public holiday and as I’m between jobs, what else do I have to do. So Brunswick it is.
I make my way out here, running the gauntlet down Hoddle Street and Alexandra Avenue. The traffic is good. Then I remember that it’s a fake public holiday as tomorrow is Horse Race Day, something I don’t give two rats about. If I was working, I’m probably be pissed off as it’s an unnecessary day off with no pay.
Arrive at the tyre place. Park the car, go into reception, where I’m greeted by a harried young bloke named Lewis. Fixing a puncture shouldn’t take more than an hour. He asks if I can come back at two. Three hours away. Unfortunately they’re six men down. Something about a ‘stomach bug’ going through meaning nobody has turned up.
“Umm, you want me to hang around Brunswick for three hours?”
“Would you mind?”
“I come from Richmond, umm…”
“How about come back at one?”
“Okay, thanks. I can occupy myself for two hours. I’ll find the library.”
Thankfully, I’ve brought along my charged up iPad.
Anyway, I feel like a fish out of water here in Brunswick. I don’t have a wolf cut. I don’t have an staffie or a greyhound in tow. Although I’m wearing black and a denim jacket and Birkenstocks I don’t feel like they’re the right cut or style. Being a fake public holiday, most of the coffee shops appear to be closed, and I’m not really feeling like ramen, sushi, Mexican or kebab for breakfast (I was hoping to get home and have lunch from food in my fridge, but I’m getting a bit peckish).
There are great op shops, but they’re expensive. I wandered into Dangerfield, but reminded myself that I’m trying to get out of my goth phase.
There was this awesome second-hand grocer, Cheaper By Miles, where I found some gnocchi, cheese and dumplings for $10 - bargain!
Now, I’m sitting in the library, where the wifi is plentiful and I’m out of the rain, and hopefully the harried Lewis will be able to get my tyre fixed.
Still, I feel like a fish out of water in this little pocket of town. It’s strange that this area of town some five kilometres away feels like another world.
October has been a great reading month. I've technically got through ten and a half books - the half is a huge book which I'll finish in the next few weeks, but the rest are done and dusted. If I look at the stats, there's been five audiobooks, four paper copies and one on the kindle. There have been eight fiction books and two non-fiction books. The average page count is around 300 pages, though this averages out as two books were really short.
Also, all were good to read.
So here we go, in order of reading.
1) Whistler by Ann Patchett - Paper - 4.5 Stars
Ann Patchett novels are gentle. Gentle, beautifully crafted, sensitive and often end with a glorious gut punch. Whistler is one of her finest.
A family story, Daphne is reunited with her step-father, Eddie at an art museum in New York after many decades. He suddenly disappeared from her life abruptly after an incident that left everybody confused. Over the course of the novel, you discover the intricate family dynamics and characters that make up this family who are very good at glossing over things.
This is a novel for grown-ups, beautifully crafted, each chapter egging you on to find out more. I loved this. It's going on my book group long list for next year. Ann Patchett is a master.
2) Unsheltered by Barbara Kingsolver - Audio - 4 Stars
Barbara Kingsolver is another favourite author of mine. Demon Copperhead and The Poisonwood Bible are two of my favourite books. Unsheltered has been sitting in my TBR pile for ages, but I picked it up on sale on Audible. Barbara Kingsolver is a writer with ideas and a social conscience. This is no different.
In Unsheltered, we find two interweaving stories. Journalist Willa finds herself trying to protect her family in harsh economic times - not they would normally be perceived to be in trouble. Her husband, also an academic, cannot get tenure, and they're placed in a sub-standard house for the academic year, with no real knowledge of where they will go next. Her son is dealing with a newborn baby and a tragedy. Her avant-guard daughter is roaming around the place and her father-in-law is causing massive difficulties. With all this going on, Willa, starts to investigate the town and the street they live on.
The other story is set in the 1800s and looks at the street and the people who lived there, with some rather big associations to a lot of big historical scientific figures.
Willa must try, against the odds, to keep the family together.
Although this wasn't at the same level as her more famous novels, this is still very engaging. It made for a great listen.
3) Reckoning by Magda Szubanski - Audio - 4 Stars
After seeing Magda Szubanski at the Melbourne Town Hall for the launch of her new book, I was intrigued to listen to her first memoir, Reckoning, that takes on her father's story. The audiobook was read by her, giving this an even more intimate view of her family's story and her own life in Australia up until the early 2012 when she came out to the nation.
Born in Liverpool to a Scottish mother and Polish father, the family moved to Australia on a skilled workers passage, her father being a scientist they family settled in Melbourne. Szubanski looks at her childhood, her family and her ascendancy to the comic stratosphere. She also talks of her father's surprising role in the Second World War, both sides of her family and her own struggles.
This is a fascinating memoir and well worth delving into this intelligent, thoughtful woman's life. I want to read her second memoir too, which broaches her mother's slide into dementia and her own health battles.
4) On Friendship by Andrew O'Hagan - Kindle - 4 Stars
My other non-fiction book for the month, this small book of essays discussed the themes of friendship. The essays are lovely to delve into, where O'Hagan discusses various elements of friendship under many guises.
I loved listening to him speak at the Capital Theatre at the Australian launch of this book. For better or worse, he discussed most of the essays in detail at this talk, which left little to discover for me. Still, he's a great Scottish writer and this was well worth the (second) read.
5) The Lady with the Dog by Carrie Tiffany, illustrations by Noel McKenna - Paper - 4 stars
Another slim volume, Carrie's extraordinary writing takes us through her mother's last months and her battle with dimension. More a book of vignettes, rather than a cohesive story, the novella looks at life, love and loss as her mother declines. The words are beautiful, the accompanying drawings whimsical in their simplicity.
Carrie Tiffany is always worth reading.
6) The Brightest Star in the Sky by Marian Keyes - Audio - 3.5 Stars
I'll start this by saying that The Brightest Star in the Sky is not my favourite Marian Keyes novel. Sure, it's entertaining, but having consumed this on an audio book, I found it rather convoluted and I had a bit of trouble keeping the characters in line until I was about halfway though the book.
The novel looks into the lives of the residents of 66 Star Street. They all have their problems and issues. They're all okay as characters go, however, you don't really work out what's going on until the last fifty pages. You have to put in a lot of work to get there.
I prefer Keyes's Walsh Family saga more. It was okay, but I can't write much more about it without mentioning that it left me frustrated in places until I got a real handle on the characters. I might have been better reading this on paper.
7) The Underworld by Sophie Laguna - Paper - 4 stars
This was our book group book for the month, and as with most of Sofie Laguna's work, it spoke to me on a deep level.
The Booktopia website provides the blurb of:
"Martha Mullins is a misfit. Her mother is glamorous, aloof and judgmental. Her father, mostly absent. If only she had brothers and sisters with whom she might share her feelings, her confusion ... Academic and shy, Martha finds herself fascinated by the underworld, a place she learns about in Roman mythology classes at school. To Martha, the underworld and its divine inhabitants provide a place of refuge, escape, imagination and desire.
But Martha also finds joy in friendship. Connection. Intimacy. It's Martha's band of friends who show her the value in spontaneity, fun, laughter.
Until things go wrong.
How will Martha find her way in the world where she cannot be herself? Will she ever find a home for the love she feels? The call of the underworld is difficult to resist..."
I was always going to like this. As a misfit and a Classics student, I got a lot of what Martha was about. The alienation. The finding your tribe.
I really enjoyed this.
8) Nine Days by Toni Jordan - Audio - 4 Stars
I was going to love this. It's set just down the road and up the hill in Richmond. The novel looks at the Westaway family, taking a day out of one of the family's lives, from 1939 to the modern day, taking in the family folklore and mysteries. Jordan has the remarkable skill of taking your right back to working-class Richmond, the back streets, the times, the people. First published in 2012, this is well worth a read. The structure is interesting, but it works well. You also get a forensic look at a family with their secrets that need to be kept for decades.
For me, I had to take a drive down some of the streets she mentioned just to see how much they had changed.
This is another novel to hunt down, particularly if you live in the area and like social history.
9) Women and Leadership - Real Lives, Real Lessons by Julia Gillard and Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala - Audio - 4 Stars
I picked this up after the tragic events concerning Helen Haines in Wangaratta. The book is extended research into woman who have taken the highest offices of their respective lands. Julia Gillard and Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala interview women leaders from both sides of politics. Theresa May, Hillary Clinton, Jacinda Ardern, Erna Solberg, Michele Bachelet, Joyce Banda and Christine Lagarde are asked the same questions and provide interesting perspectives on what it is to be a woman in politics.
The book is engaging, inspiring and frightening all at the same time as these relentlessly strong women tell their stories.
It's another book I'm glad I consumed.
10) The German Ward by Pip Williams - Paper - 4 Stars
I'm a big fan of the authors other books The Dictionary of Lost Words and The Bookbinder of Jericho, and this book takes on the view of another associated character from her Oxford stable, a very minor character in her second book.
Tilda, a good friend of the twin's mother, finds herself as a part of the Voluntary Aid Detachment (VAD) in the second world war, working as a nurse at the Etaples hospital base in France. Tilda is a bit of a reprobate. She is also very capable and her skills are noticed, along with her unconventional way of living. It is there she takes on shifts in the German ward, where enemy prisoners are nursed back to health. It is there that she meets a German doctor, Hugo. Over the years she spends doing night duties alongside Hugo, a forbidden love develops.
Nobody would know about this relationship until a researcher uncovers a woman war artist's drawings at the Australian War Memorial over 100 years later.
The writing in this is urgent, visceral and tender. It shows the horrors of war and the redemptive nature of love in all its forms. Williams research, as always, is remarkable.
You could read this as a standalone book however, I reckon it reads better if you have the knowledge of her first two books as it rounds out the experience and gives it more depth.
It's Saturday afternoon and I'm procrastinating about going to the gym. At least I am in my gym clothes.
A couple of things have been marked off my list of things to do. I finished my book. I've started cleaning out a kitchen cupboard. I've done a lot of crochet while watching the UK version of Celebrity Traitors, the latter being great fun, the former meaning I've nearly finished a double bed sized blanket. I've been to meditation, started a new book... and I'm in my gym gear.
I am going to go to the gym after this.
Anyway, the questions have been brought to us by Sunday Stealing. These won't take me long, then I'm off to the gym.
1. Do you have a business card? If yes, what's your job title?
I've never had a business card. I'm between jobs at the moment, but my job title is normally Instructional Designer or Technical Writer. I have an interview on Wednesday. Wish me luck. Still won't be getting a business card. I think that only real estate agents and car salesmen, and the odd banker have them now.
2. What day of the week were you born?
Monday. I checked this on google - still Monday. Mum wasn't lying.
3. What vegetable do you refuse to eat?
I'm a slave to my whims. I'll eat most vegetables, but whether I feel like eating them or not is another matter. I've got to be in the mood for whole chick peas (garbanzo beans to the Americans). I'm not that fond of green beans, normally because they're overcooked too easily. Oh, and plain, steamed cauliflower - no thanks. If it's been roasted or covered in cheese sauce, then I'll take it.
4. How many times have you stayed overnight in the hospital?
Twice as a kid, and twice as an adult.
As a kid, I had my legs sorted, and on both occasions, I was in for a few days. As an adult, I was in overnight when they took out my gall bladder, then another time when I was in for 'girlie maintenance' and as I'd had a general anesthetic and was going home to an empty house, they insisted I stay in overnight. I walked the 20 minutes home the next morning.
5. Do you have more piercings or tattoos?
I've only got my ears pierced, and there is on very small tattoo on my hip. Nobody sees it.
6. Do you like to shop?
Sort of. I've just realised, thanks to my psychologist, that I have been using shopping as a dopamine hit for most of my life. I'm trying not to shop - or at last I'm trying to buy when I window shop. It's hard, but I'm getting better at not spending money, especially as I've not got much coming in at the moment. Hopefully the interview on Wednesday will sort that out.
7. How much cash is in your wallet right now?
I have more than I have had in a long time. A bit more that $100 in notes and around $20 in change. Most of that is because I took in the collection at lodge, but all the banking is done electronically, so I take in the cash and pay them from my account. Normally I have no more that $20 in cash on me.
8. Let's play MASH: Do you live in a mansion, apartment, shack, or house?
I live in an apartment.
9. Where are you in the family birth order (oldest, middle child, youngest, or only child)?
Oldest of two. Or oldest of three if you take my step-sister into account.
10. When you were 5 years old, what did you call your parents?
Mummy and Daddy - like most five-year-old Australians at the time. This morphed into Mum and Dad a year or so after. I think the change was starting around that time.
This is a fantastic film. I am going to say this because it fits some of my criteria. It's a story about the Second World War - the D-Day landings to be precise. It has Andrew Scott AND Brendan Fraser in it - I adore both actors.
And I'm a big weather nerd.
This film is lovingly put together, based on the play by the same name written by David Haig, who is best known as Bernard from Four Weddings and a Funeral. Haig is also a very good playwright who had a large hand in transferring this to the screen.
The movie's premise is simple. In the tense 72 hours before D-Day, General Dwight D. Eisenhower (Brendan Fraser) and Captain James Stagg (Andrew Scott) face an impossible choice--launch the most dangerous seaborne invasion in history or risk losing the war altogether. It all depends on the weather, which is why Stagg is brought in. He's a reluctant addition to the meteorological team, the U. K's best weather boffin he's not welcome among the American weather team. Stagg is up on all the latest technologies for 1944. At the British Headquarters, there's the push and shove of the American Meteorologist Irving Krick (Chris Messina), a more traditional (read delusional) forecaster, but a favourite of Eisenhower. This is a tense, edge-of-your seat movie that gets you in its grip early and doesn't let you go until the last lead is closed.
The film's tense premise starts at the opening credits, where we meet Stagg going off to headquarters leaving behind his heavily pregnant wife. Stagg is not somebody who's warm and fluffy, but he knows what he's going on, the antithesis of Krick's method of forecasting.
In the background, Ike and his chiefs of staff, including a wonderful turn by Damien Lewis as Bernard 'Monty' Montgomery who want to get their troops on the beaches. It's a very tense film, but in the best possible way. The battle scenes are well done, hard hitting, but well short of the gratuitous mark. Having been to Omaha Beach, it hit a little bit harder.
Australian Anthony Maras has done a wonderful job directing this. The cinematography is also beautifully done, making this a joy to watch.
For a film that's ostensibly about weather forecasting, this is excellent. It's an unexpected story, one about those who have to speak truth to power. A story of brains over brawn.
It's also a film that you can take a friend who loves military history along to as well. Part of me would like to see it again.
It started off with a walk with an old colleague who lives a few streets away. We went along the river having a good chat along the way. She was made redundant about six weeks ago and is only just starting to look for work. After a coffee at the end of the walk, I came home.
I had a telehealth appointment with my doctor. It was over in five minutes. A couple of repeat prescriptions and one other small matter didn't take long.
After this, a friend came over for a feet and cards session. That was pretty cook. They'd never had reflexology before. I'd forgotten how much I enjoy doing feet and cards. (Anybody reading this in Melbourne, you know where to find me - especially while I'm off.) This will pay for tomorrow's acupuncture session.)
I've managed to unclog the vacuum cleaner hose. It's amazing what you can do with a broom handle and a wire clothes hanger. Serves me right for hoovering behind the couch.
Another 50 pages of my book has been read (Pip Williams The German Ward is very good - possibly better as I've read her first two books centered around Oxford - her research is impeccable.)
Then there was Chuck the trainer, who put me through my paces. After the warm-up there was all sorts of horrors. Lat pull downs at with the last round at a personal best weight. There were standing rows. Then came the leg extensions and chest flies. Then dead bugs with a 10 kg plate and wood chops. After this came step ups and dead ball slams, which I refused because I get a bit giddy doing them - so he made me push the sled - which is much preferable to slamming down a dead weight and wanting to throw up.
I told him that I was looking forward to going back to work - which will hopefully be soon.
"As long as you're not down to doing a daily sudoku," he told me.
"I do the sudoku every day."
"But you're not that old. Grandpas do sudoku."
"And people who want to keep their mind's sharp."
"But it's like crosswords."
"I do the minute cryptic every day. I'm getting better at them. One clue at a time make them easier and Angus is a good teacher." (Angus is on Instagram and he talks you through the solution. He can be a bit of a windbag, but he is a great teacher.)
"So, you're a granny who lifts weights."
"No, I'm a big and strong and tuff-tuff-tuff woman who likes keeping my mind sharp."
"And you crochet. You're a granny."
"Hamish (another of his clients) knits. Are you going to call him a granny?"
"Fair point."
"You have to build your body and mind. Can't have either turn to slush."
Kazuo Ishiguro is one of my favourite authors - and Klara and the Sun, though very, very good, is not my favourite of his works.
Taika Waititi is a favourite director. I mean, The Hunt for the Wilderpeople, Next Goal Wins and What We Do in the Shadows are comedy gold with huge hearts. When he goes a bit deeper, like in JoJo Rabbit, he hits hard, but with pathos.
Oh, then there's the Belvedere Vodka add which lives rent free in my head. Just to remind you, this...
Klara and the Sun shows off his softer, mature, empathetic side. Mixed with Ishiguro's cerebral, thought-provoking story, you have something pretty special.
I read the book of the film years ago and remember enjoying it. The story tells of Klara, an AF - Artificial Friend, popular in the post-apocalyptic society for providing friendship to people for whatever reason they need. Klara (Jenna Ortega) is an older model of AF, known for their empathy, something which isn't always valued in society. The film starts at the bargain store where Klara resides with other grandfathering AFs and the Store Manager (Natasha Lyonne). Klara finally gets her chance to be in the window to try to find her family.
She is adopted by Josie (Mia Tharia) who sees something in Klara that she requires. Her mother Chrissy (Amy Adams) isn't thrilled with the choice, and housekeeper, Melania (Rachel House) is not pleased with her presence around the house.
A lot of the film is from Klara's point of view, where she has to 'calibrate' to new environments and well as navigate the tricky family situation, external friendships and her AF role in the world.
The film has quite a bit to say about the use of social media and AI and how this is portrayed in friendship. From memory, the book does a better job at this, while the film verges on pastiche at times.
From memory, overall, the book cuts deeper, however this is a beautifully shot and acted film.
Jenna Ortega is wonderful as the plucky Klara. She uses her acting gifts to animate her robot characteristics. Amy Adams and Mia Tharia excel as the mother and daughter in a precarious position, while Rachel House and Natasha Lyonne bring the comedic thrust.
Taika Waititi is at his best when he's wandering the grey areas of dystopia, pathos and emotion. He brings all of this here.
Filmed in New Zealand, the sets and cinematography are exquisite. The only thing I found a little jarring was the more minor character's New Zealand accents mixing in with more mainstream American ones. it wasn't a deal breaker, but it did raise an eyebrow or two.
Although I'm still more a fan of the book, because Kazou Ishiguro is a literary god, this is a solid film and well worth a look.
I'm ready to go back to work now. I'm getting tired of dodging potholes and rabbit holes.
The potholes are everywhere. Seriously, how are you supposed to maintain your car's suspension with these mother fornicating holes all over the place. They're everywhere. I know the Big Build was needed, but can't you take care of the small stuff? The potholes are awful. DO SOMETHING.
Rabbit holes are something I should have better control over - yet they are everywhere. I'm trying to keep my doomscrolling to a minimum. I'm reading the news headlines but not reading things in depth - it's all too depressing.
Social media has its joys and delusions.
Today I watched as an acquaintance went full Dave Hughes live on Facebook. I wanted to reach through the screen, give him a gentle shake, tell him to get off the psychedelics and maybe take up with that counsellor the court was suggesting. I won't contact him. I doubt if he would remember me - but he seems to have fallen down a rabbit hole of his own. I gall at the entitlement. I would unfriend him, but the downfall is spectacular, like watching David Attenborough show lemmings jumping off a cliff.
I'm doing a lot of cleaning. Today's job was the kitchen table. Amazingly, after removing everything, giving the table a wash, throwing out a heap of stuff and restacking the table, it looks empty.
The kettle which has been sitting on said table is being sent over to JB Hifi for recycling tomorrow.
My crochet projects are coming along well. Blarney will get her blanket for Christmas. I'm not sure where the other one will be going.
By the end of the month I'll have read 10 books.
I'm writing too.
In all, I've enjoyed these few weeks off. But it's becoming time to go back to work.
I've got an interview at 9.30 tomorrow morning. You never know - it may not be too long until this holiday lark is over. Wish me luck.
In Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut marks every death in to book with the words,"So it goes."
Words of acceptance. Words of completion. Words of futility. Words suggesting there is more to this.
I'm glad Gloria and I went to the funeral together. It was a good chance the catch up and not get too caught up in various thoughts of mortality. Gloria is good company, and besides, her car is in need of some work. The drive out to Springvale around midday wasn't too arduous, a coffee was bought at the McDonalds drive through to help us get there quicker.
Gloria also pointed out that our friend in the box at the front was the same age as her - they were born a fortnight apart. I can see why this would make you feel a little unsettled.
Me, I was in attendance for my friend, his wife. Speaking to her the days before, she intimated that he was ready to go, that he as at peace. After 18 years living with prostate cancer, the last few years were not good. In the last few months, he barely left hospital and was looking to transfer to hospice care when he died. As I said, he was ready.
So it goes.
It's still sad.
It was a celebration he would have enjoyed. We could feel him in the chapel, the coffin draped in his much-favoured tie-dyed fabric and his Aston Villa scarf, with lots of pictures of him as a younger man, with his family in Britain, and his time in Australia. I man that was hard to recognise, as I'd only known him for the last 20 years when his hair was grey. The only thing the same was the smile. He appeared to like changing his hairstyle and facial hair. He also liked wearing shorts, much to the snickers of the chapel.
His family spoke of him as a kind man, generous with is time, slow to judge, wise and spiritual. He could, and would, talk to anybody. He had a big heart and a yearning for spiritual knowledge. You can't ask for much more than that.
Talking to his wife afterwards, we spoke of the love at the funeral. He had got a say in the day, choosing the songs they played, nothing dirge-like. It was at his suggesting the coffin be covered with the tye-dyed cloth and football scarf. I'm thankful he had said something of his wishes in his final weeks. His wife had threatened him with a full Greek Orthodox service if he said nothing, being the religion he had converted to marry her all those years ago.
It did the trick. He spoke up.
After a cup of tea, some sandwiches and a sausage roll, a chat with others from the meditation group we are all a part of, Gloria and I made our way back to the city, pleased we had seen our friend off and supporting our friend in the process.
"The worst thing is the older you get, the more of these you go to," said Gloria.
"It seems to be the case."
"They captured him well."
"He was in the chapel, I could feel him," I mentioned.
"He's keeping an eye on her."
"Indeed."
A little later, I asked Gloria, "Have you though what you might like for your funeral?"
"Oh yes," she replied, "Something witchy. Lots of chanting and candles and incense to piss off the neighbours."
"And you in a wicker coffin, strewn with bright flowers and your mates dancing around you to sacred rhythms, with the bodhran beating and tambourine rattling. I can see it!"
"I might have to put that in the instructions. Death is so sanitised."
"It is. But I wonder how many times a coffin has been draped with tye-dyed material at the crematorium."
I'm writing this on Monday morning as last night, the inspiration was low.
Now, I'm procrastinating as I'm off to a funeral in a bit, and facing one's mortality is never fun. It will be a celebration for a friend - somebody I can't say I knew particularly well, but I am going to show support for his wife, who I know a lot better. My mate Gloria is coming around in about an hour and we will drive out to Springvale together. Although a sad occasion, he is now at peace after years of illness.
Anyway, I pulled a card last night from the journalling deck which reads "What do people say you can't do?"
Hmm.
This is a loaded question.
I say I can do anything.
The internet tries to tell me that I can buy anything.
I'm not sure if anybody cares what I do or don't do.
If you asked me to touch my toes without bending my knees, I can't. Give me six months of flexibility training and that will turn into a maybe.
Could I get into medical school? Probably not, but I give it a red hot go. That's more an age thing.
I'm often told that I can't say this or that. I have a very selective filter. I'm also known for not doing what I'm told to do. It's part of my make up.
Ask me what I say I won't do - an easier question to answer.
Here are ten things I won't do:
Drive drunk.
Travel to the United States of America in the current political climate.
Be cruel to animals (rubbing Lucifer's belly excepted, but that is just rage baiting)
This set of question isn't really that adult - more like having to do adult things, which are more boring and necessary than fun.
I'm just back from the blood bank, where I donated plasma. It was my 25th donation today - which means I got a pin and a block of chocolate. It's a nice thing to do on a cloudy day.
Let's get on with the questions, which have been sourced by Sunday Stealing, as always.
1. Do you have a college degree?
I have two. A Bachelor of Arts in Classics and English, which was done far too long ago. I also completed a Master of Arts in Writing around ten years ago. I have been lucky enough to use both of these degrees in my career.
2. What was the amount of your last electric bill?
My last electricity bill was $77 in credit. I recently changed suppliers, and part of the deal with the government rebate was put towards your first bill. This bill is normally around $100 a month on average. The hot water and gas bills are normally around $50 a quarter - and these have gone up recently, only because prices have gone up (hence changing suppliers).
3. Do you have life insurance?
Yes. Those sorts of insurances are attached to my superannuation .(I think the Brits call this your voluntary pension, the US calls it an IRA or 401K). This means I don't have to think about it much.
4. Do you check your cholesterol on (at least) an annual basis?
Yes. My doctor runs my bloods around once a year. Thankfully I'm stupidly healthy.
5. Have you ever attended a high school reunion?
Yes. Just one. That's enough.
6. Do you have a will or estate plan?
Yes. I have a will registered with a lawyer. My affairs are simple, thank goodness, but it's been done and it's all above board.
7. Do you remember when MTV played music videos?
Very much so. I remember when MTV started. Mind you, in Australia we had our own, home-grown music show, Countdown (like the Brits had Top of the Pops). I used to love it. It drove my mother mad.
8. Is there a bottle of wine in your refrigerator?
Yes. I have a bottle of French champagne in the fridge - Piper Heidsieck - there for a special occasion. It's been there for years - I've had nothing to celebrate. I must change that.
9. Have you been divorced?
No. Never been married either.
10. When you were 16, did you play music on vinyl, cassette, or CDs?
Way back when God was a boy, I played music on cassettes. DVDs didn't come out into mass use until the later 80s. I do miss a good mixed tape.
This film isn't going to be for everybody. It's weird. It's freaky. It's in your face. It's a rollercoaster. I loved it, despite it tanking at the box office.
Here's the thing. Tom Cruise is polarising. I'm not a fan of his mainstream stuff. However, Tom Cruise in movies like A Few Good Men, Magnolia, Jerry Maguire and Rainman - roles where he's not playing the action hero - he can be good. Even great.
Tom Cruise is great in this. No silly running. No overacting. This is a real, character-driven role on a number of levels.
The other reason people aren't going to gel with this is that the film is strange - until you get into it. It's very meta. It also has one of the coolest endings I've ever seen.
The writer/director, Alejandro G. Inarritu, who's responsible for movies like Birdman, The Revenant and Babel, is know for strange and thought-provoking films. In many ways, Digger is some of his more accessible work. A dark comedy, highly satirical, barking mad but thought provoking. The script and cinematography are fantastic.
As is the cast. Some of England and America's best and brightest pepper the cast - along with Cruise, John Goodman, Jesse Plemons, Sandra Huller, Emma Darcy, Riz Ahmed among others help make this very good. The animatronic cat also steals the show (even more so when you work out what's going on.)
Not to give anything away, imdb.com describes the plot as "The most powerful man in the world embarks on a frantic mission to prove he is humanity's savior before the disaster, he's unleashed destroys everything." To say any more would ruin it.
This isn't going to be for everybody, but for me, it's going to be another one in the top ten movies of the year - but I like well-crafted bonkers films. File it under arthouse and give it a go.
Walked 15,000 steps (including going on a walk with an old colleague along the river)
Read a few chapters of my book
Gone to the gym for a session with Chuck
Released the COVID weights to another poor sucker for Cleo to torture her with
Talked to an agency.
Revamped my CV for a role that I don't think I want and they probably aren't going to want me, but, hey, that's what AI is for and you have to let the universe know you're looking. (I'm not sure I want to work in Moorabbin...)
Talked to my shrink.
Talked to my shrink without melting down too badly - a couple of tears, but that's okay - expected.
Done some crochet.
Did a mini food shop
Started work on a proposal document for a job I interviewed for two weeks ago.
Accepted a HR call with another company for tomorrow.
Didn't whinge about the heat.
Thought about cleaning the kitchen table
Had two showers.
This being between jobs thing is busy.
Of the blessings I'm counting:
I am getting calls and emails about jobs.
I'm out of the bank I was working at - their press at the moment is awful.
I've happily cut my Ritalin down to one a day unless I really have to focus in the afternoon - just enjoy the fizzy brain in the afternoon.
Some writing has been done.
And all the exercise I'm doing is making me feel great.
Oh, and I got a big cuddle from the cat, who likes sitting under the airconditioner, looking like a very large cockroach when he's all splayed out.
I told my shrink about the job hunting, and how the RSD (Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria) doesn't really come into it because, to be frank, I really don't care. I'll know the right job when it comes. It's not far away (touch wood) and I'm enjoying this stay in Windowsill Bay. It's coming
The cat showed his displeasure at my speaking with the shrink by hopping up on the table and showing her is butt.
You gotta love them.
Me, I've done 15,000 steps today and I think I need my bed. I've got to be up early to finish off this proposal document. It should come easily once it's percolated overnight.
I prefer the back entrance, the one down La Trobe Street, opposite the gothic splendor of the RMIT buildings, just down from the Old Melbourne Gaol, where the ghosts of prisoners past reverberate down Russell Street. I prefer the back entrance as it's close to the loos, which are clean and little used. I prefer the back entrance as it's the easiest way to get into the Redmond Barry Reading Room, my preferred writing room, preferably upstairs in one of the corrals.
Unfortunately, October is exam time, and the State Library is full to the brim with students gathering points and stomach ulcers for their ATARs by hitting the books. Finding an upstairs corral was impossible. Finding a seat in the downstairs area was nearly as bad, but I'd spotted a couple of perches and was able to snag one. From last week's experience, the main reading room with the impressive dome is filled with the pheromones of stressed-out students - and I don't need to be around that. The Redmond Barry Reading Room is more my jam. It reminds me of my favourite possie in the Adelaide University's Barr Smith Library, in a corral, next to a window with Samuel Pepys for company.
The laptop fired up and plugged into the socket. The wireless mouse is turned on - spare batteries are in the pencil case with the other leads. My notebook is placed next to the laptop, the Yeti half filled with water, no longer cold, but the sign on the desk says no food or drink other than water, and the Coke Zero in my bag will have to stay there. I've always been too obedient.
I'm writing. There's 15000 words in this document. I'm second drafting. Trying to tame my words into something cohesive. I'm back with the dystopian novel. I've discovered formatting. adding, subtracting, smoothing the words, slashing paragraphs, noting ideas.
Having the time to write is a privilege and an opportunity I can't waste. I want this for myself.
Just as the job will come, and come soon, I need to take this time do to what I love.
For the next week or so, however, I might have to find another library. Maybe Richmond, or Kew. Maybe go to the city library near the market (although that is dangerous for all the food) or the one near Degraves Street. Quiet writing possies are a necessity. Between cats and Fleischman is in Trouble, there are too many distractions at home.
I'm going to get a great job and it's going to be great - but for the moment, I'm a writer of novels.
Mark me with this one. La Bola Negra should be up for a Best International Film Oscar nomination.
It's incredible. IMDB.com has it ranked as an 8.2, RottenTomatoes.com a 92%.
It's also tense, violent, queer, cerebral and dramatic. Along with this, bring in the fact that it's superbly shot, with an excellent soundscape and you've got a film you don't want to take your eyes off, even when things are getting tense.
Also, if you're aware of the concept of the black ball, the apparatus use to vote new members into associations by a blind poll (White ball for acceptance, black ball for rejection) this adds another meaning to this, along with the associations with an unfinished play by Federico Garcia Lorca - which comes part of the film.
I went into this blind, knowing that the cinematography looked amazing.
I'm so glad I went.
There are three strands to the movie which weave in together, which looks at what it is to be gay at certain points in Spanish history. You have to trust the process as you really will have no idea how the three stories are linked.
In the first we meet Sebastian (Guitarricadelafuente) in 1937, who lives in a small town, plays the trumpet for his local town band, until the Italians bomb his village and he's conscripted into the army. At an army hospital, he's ordered to stand guard over Rafael (Miguel Bernardeau) a dissident who is only being healed so he can be interrogated.
Secondly, we meet Carlos (Milo Quofes) in 1932 who is trying to join a casino cartel in his town. He is rejected for his homosexuality.
Lastly, we meet Alberto (Carlos Gonzalez) who's living in 2017 and has just been contacted by the executors of his grandfather's estate.
Oh, and Penelope Cruz and Glenn Close have cameos in this.
I'll say no more about the plot, other than this is finely woven into a glorious, cohesive story. Written by Javier Ambrossi, Javier Calvo and Alberto Conejero, and directed by the two Javiers, this is exquisite. I won't say more. Go see this - it will be better on the big screen.
Yes, it's a long film, and yes, it's got subtitles. It doesn't matter. This film is exquisite. You will learn something about a lot of things - not only Spanish history, but it provides insights into what it was, and is, to be queer in societies which from upon it.
My Duolingo streak ticked over to 1500 days today.
1500 days - somewhere around four years and one month I've been doing my daily French lesson. I've not missed a day. I haven't even used streak protection. Every day, for around ten minutes (now that I've finished the Duolingo French course) I do a bit of practice.
Why? I want to be bilingual. I'm not there yet, even though I can get around the language without butchering it too badly.
If I had my way, the universe would let me settle in France, where I could get my French to an even better state (and hop over to London regularly for a visit to the theatre.) Immersion is the only way to go.
I try and read Le Petit Prince regularly. It's the only French text I have in the house.
Thinking about it, I did five years of French at high school. I reckon I've done more French as an adult than I did in school.
I love it. I'll keep going. I'd like to find either a regular conversation group or a course that can get my language knowledge further. Maybe I should learn to sing La Marseilles, not just the 'marchant! marchant! bit. (If you've never seen Casablanca, when they sing this, knowing most of the extras were of French origin while the Germans occupied their country - superb.)
At least I have something to aim for. Maybe for my big birthday in two years, save up and go to France for a month.
I had to turn up to this one. The one on a Sunday night after a long lunch with colleagues in the afternoon. It would have been easier to stay at home, but this 21st party was a must show. My 'godchildren', Liam and Polly, turn 21 tomorrow.
I put the 'godchildren' in brackets because I'm not their godparent in the eyes of the Catholic Church. Some 20 years ago I wasn't selected to be a godparent because I'm a heathen. At the time, the Catholic Church frowned upon those of other faiths being made godparents fontside. I remember at the time having my nose a little out of joint for half an hour, then got over it. Bernie has been a part of my life since first-year university. When she and her husband Daz ask for help, I'm there. Over the years, I've been around these kid's lives. They've cat sat for me while I was up in Darwin. We got to the odd film or play together. Occasionally, I go round for Sunday Roast. They're family. I was at Bernie's 21st some nearly 40 years ago - she might have even been at mine.
My phone number was put in their first phones as a 'call this when you need an adult who isn't a parent.' Daz approved of this, stating I was a good adult to have in their phone. They were told I can talk my way out of anything - sometimes you need that.
Regardless, I turned up.
It was nice. They seemed genuinely happy to see me. Polly looked gorgeous. Liam is all excited - he starts work tomorrow after a number of years of not being able to find a job.
Of course, 21st are not what they used to be. Mind you, we Gen X had mostly moved out of home by this age - I'd been out four years by the time I turned 21. And what do you get the yoof of today for a 21st present? You used to get glasses, pewter tankards, all sorts of tatt for the house. Most kids are still living at home now, moving out a pipe dream unless you're having to move interstate for work.
Being their 'god mum', they both received a card from me with a voucher to be taken to some sort of performance. To be discussed when I'm back in work and uni exams are over. They're both quite arty, Liam is into film, and Polly likes plays.
There were also many people I hadn't seen for ages. Bernie's sister for one who lives in country South Australia. Juan, the twins actual godfather (being part Spanish, he's a proper Catholic) another. Juan and I normally find ourselves at family parties drinking under the clothesline. Juan's a renown botanical artist.
"Pand, when is that book coming out?"
Yes, Juan.
"Lunch soon."
"Yes, Juan."
Daz said the same thing.
It was a lovely night. Thankfully, the function room was well ventilated and not too noisy. I stayed for a while, for the speeches and cutting of the cakes. They're twins. They get two. As it should be.
On the way out, Polly introduced me to her boyfriend, an earnest yoof, clean cut, well-mannered. They are well-suited.
"And this is my godmother, in every way that matters," was how Polly introduced me.
It takes a village. It's a village of which I'm thrilled to be a part.
I've been out all day, and it has been wonderful. Meditation, followed by a wonderful tea blending class, then an impromptu dinner with EJ. It's been a lovely day, but it means I'm getting this off late in the day.
Kind, adventurous, intelligent. (I'm not blasting my own trumpet on the last one - I'm reasonably smart).
2) What's your favorite dish at your favorite restaurant?
EJ and I went there tonight. I love this mum and dad Vietnamese restaurant near my place. They do this dry shredded beef in spicy sauce. I take everybody there for this dish. It's incredible. The place itself is a real what we call Mum and Dad restaurant, complete with a box of tissues for serviettes, formica tables, and in the early days, the kids, who now wait on the tables, used to be up the back doing their homework.
3) Did you set goals for 2026? If yes, how are you proceeding toward them?
I'm getting somewhere with them. So far:
I've left the country for a few days
Read at least a book a week
Seen lots of theatre and films
Kept fit
And started the deep clean of the flat.
All of this is something.
4) What's something you have learned the hard way?
The harder the exercise, the more you practice, the better you get at it. The hard work is worth it.
5) If you could skip one item on today's to-do list, what would it be?
Well, today has 20 minutes left in it the I got much of the to-do list done. As for tomorrow's list, I'm always tempted to skip the gym, but this has to be done. Lots of me doesn't want to go out for lunch with the girls from my last job, but this too has to be done. I have a 21st tomorrow night - I will stick my head in the door for half an hour.
Oops, this is a bit late - but I've been going back over what I thought about this film, and in the words of Eleanor Dashwood, I greatly esteem it.
Of course, this film is always going to be compared to Emma Thompson's 1995 version of the film, and I'm honest, Thompson's movie is a better film, however, this is not to take away anything this new version brings. They are different beasts. If anything, this new version is possibly more realistic, whereas the
The news came through the other day. He's gone. It wasn't a surprise as we were told he had entered palliative care the week before after many years of illness. He is now at peace; may his name be a blessing.
I wasn't close to this man. A lovely man, I know his wife better, and for many years a lot of the discussion has been about her husband's health. It had been very difficult for both of them. She's a strong woman, but as they were together for around 40 years, I can only imagine the gut punch this must be.
We've been in contact, as you do, on Messager. Quick messages of support and encouragement, for what can you say or do when somebody loses their partner of decades but lend your ear. you don't want to be in their face, but you also wish to let them know they're loved and thought of. I always end messages with the words, "You don't need to respond."
She came back to me a few days ago with words of thanks.
"You don't mind me contacting you?"
We're not close friends, but we have known each other for well over 15 years.
"Of course not."
"What I might do, if you're agreeable, is maybe send on the odd dog video. A few seconds of raw happiness never goes astray."
"Yes, please do that."
Maybe sending dog and cat videos is my love language. I know when my niece was ill, I'd send on short videos to my sister - they're not disruptive, but there is something wonderful about seeing a muddy Golden Retriever or some other goofball doing something stupid. Dogs bring love and comfort more than anybody else.
I'm too aware of what it is to be grieving on your own. A quick message with something that may bring a momentary smile is all I can provide. As I said, it's my love language.
Now I've settled into this between jobs state, not that I've cleaned the temple from top to bottom (and got paid for it), it's time to get the Kanban board running once again.
Kanban board?
Let's say I've worked on projects for too long. I like a good Kanban board. It's a project management tool that allows you to see what you've done during the day/week/sprint.
Also, as an ADHD dopamine junkie, nothing feels better than ticking something off a list.
With a Kanban board, you move your tickets, or in my case, Miffies, from a state of not done, to doing, to done. It helps to give a perspective of what you've achieved for the day. Some Miffies might be daily tasks (like exercise or stretch or take your Metamucil) or weekly tasks (like do the floors) or one-off jobs that really need doing (like doing a proper clean under the couch or spring cleaning the spare room).
And sure, I'm using the Miffy post-its that I bought in Paris at the Dutch chain HEMA for my task cards. I think they bring something to the joys of sprint planning your life. (Dutch friends, I know that you call Miffy by her Dutch name Neintje - but that's all too hard to say.)
And yes, that is a post-it with the word 'believe' written on it. Yes, I am a Ted Lasso fan, but I really do love the principle. I do believe I will find paid employment soon, just as I believe I can finish the first draft of a novel, find a temple cleaner and make my spare room look more like a tidy room and less like a cat's boudoir.
And yes, there is a flyer for the Robert Mapplethorpe exhibition from 2017 along with the programme of shows at the Pop Up Globe from the same year. Both give me the warm fuzzies. Okay, I love Mapplethorpe's photographs, even if some are somewhat confronting. Shakespeare, in any form makes me happy. (Andybody want to join me for the Bell Shakespeares productions of As You Like It and Measure for Measure?)
Anyway, this is how I keep track of things.
I will get a job. It's going to be great. I just have to remember to enjoy the downtime.
Explain this to me. Why has pistachio taken over my life? Pistachio ice cream... pistachio coloured clothing. Love it. it's awesome.
I'm in break mode, but I've made a promise to myself that I will start writing tomorrow. Today was crochet day - and placing some clothes on Depop. I made my 10,000 steps.
The day before I had an interview. I haven't heard back from them yet - I'm hopeful, but I will understand if it's not me they want, then that's okay too. Today also had me sending out a few more applications and talking to an agency, keeping things moving. Regardless, with the other job - no news is no news and it's okay.
But I've been thinking about pistachio stuff.
And now, it's time to do some mobility exercises, do my affirmations in the light of a green candle (I'm gonna get a job and it's going to be great!) and wonder why the numbers on my blog tracking are going through the roof. Maybe I have a stalker. Maybe I'm being tracked.
I'm gonna get a job, it's going to be great, and I'll start on the Miffy board tomorrow. (
I've loved the work of Aaron Sorkin since The West Wing. Yes, his sensibilities and politics are very similar to my own, but he also gets to tell some important stories. This is another one of those, which he has both written and directed.
We were all around a few years ago when a whistleblower shouted long and hard about the abuses and lack of civil responsibility at Facebook. The Social Reckoning looks at this part of history, to great effect. Sorkin also wrote the screenplay for The Social Network, which looked at the formation and fallout of the formation of Facebook. In both of these films, Mark Zuckerberg doesn't walk away looking like a great human being.
The Social Reckoning follows Frances Haugen (Mikey Madison), a young Facebook engineer, who enlisted the help of Jeff Horwitz (Jeremy Allen White), a Wall Street Journal reporter, to blow the whistle on the social network's most guarded secrets. We also see what Zuckerberg (Jeremy Strong) and his team do with him to "make him seem more likeable." If you followed the news at the time, Haugen testified in front of Congress about Facebook's nearly inhuman way of taking profits over people. And Jeff Horwitz received a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting.
This is a wordy movie - but this is how Aaron Sorkin runs. Thankfully, the lead players put in excellent performances. Jeremy Strong as Mark Zuckerberg is particularly effective. (They asked Jesse Eisenberg to come back and play Zuckerberg but he turned the role down, wanting nothing to do with the man himself - and fair enough.) The well-crafted script would have helped these performances - mind you, Jeremy Allen White plaus a great underdog, just as Jeremy Strong is brilliant playing morally bankrupt characters. Mikey Madison, known best for her Oscar winning role in Anora is also great as the conflicted Frances.
You'll come out of this movie thinking hard about social media and its horrors. The Social Reckoning provides a number of insider perspectives. It's a film that will play well on the streaming services in the near future.
I came to the ticket for Koreaboo in an unusual way. Having booked two tickets to another show by accident, I had some sucking up to do with a friend who works in the box office, begging nicely to change the ticket to another show. Thankfully, my friend was able to assist me, and I was found a ticket to this. I'm so glad I got to see this.
The other thing that came to mind was my late niece, Lauren, who as a fan of all things Korean. She would have loved this. The music. The sensibilities. The culture shock. The culture.
Me, I loved the story.
Michelle Lim Davidson is an Australian actor who was born in Korea and adopted by Australian parents. This play is based around her experiences of meeting her birth mother in Korea and a subsequent trip back to spend some time with her. This play is taking from her experiences of being a Koreaboo - somebody who is only interested in K-Pop, Kimchi and bulgogi.
In Koreaboo, Lim Davidson plays Hannah, woman who's returned to Korea to spend time with her motherm, Umma (Heather Jeong), who works almost without a break at the family's corner store in the back blocks of Seoul. With not only a language barrier, the two women try to find a way forward, finally bonding over K-Pop, which takes the play in yet another direction.
Mostly set in the family's shop, looking like every stereotypical Asian corner store, Lim Davidson's wisdom and comic timing shone through here. The foibles of both sides were looked on lovingly, while also having a good dig and the K-Pop phenomenon. Jessica Arthurn's direction made sure that there were no lags in the show, while keeping a slightly tongue in cheek. By the end of the play, you've got a good understanding of where both women are coming from, with a good understanding of how things came to pass.
I'm so glad I got to see this. It's a bit of a sleeper hit, but its loving look at the Korean diaspora is remarkable. I'm just sorry my niece couldn't have seen this.
It's time to get the questions out of the way. I've had a good day. I managed to finish the cleaning project at the temple, which has taken me five days (spending two hours a day there, because if I did it in one shot I would have gone mad.) I saw a not so good play last night, a good one today and the washing dried on the line. Oh, and after five days, they've fixed the hot water. Life is good.
Now I just need to get myself a job (Hopefully the interview I've got on Monday goes well.)
Anyway, here are this week's questions, brought by Sunday Stealing.
1. What was the last gift you received?
It was my birthday a few weeks ago. I received a voucher for a local bookshop and a voucher for a local cinema chain. I think that's all I received this year. This is fine, I want for nothing.
2. Who did you last hang out with?
I went for dinner and the see a play with Jay last night. Jay is also my gym buddy, so I see a bit of her.
3. Do you often lose the remote?
Yes, but it's normally found under my knitting or on my messy desk.
4. When did you last check Facebook?
About five minutes ago. Checking on a friend who's in a body building competition.
5. Are there scented candles in the room you're in?
Yes. Quite a few with different scents. I'm burning my green one at the moment. Burning green candles is a witch trick for bringing in abundance.
6. Next time you leave the house, where will you be going?
That will either be early tomorrow morning to go to the gym, or a little bit later to go and meet Blarney at the cinema where we're going to see The Social Reckoning. It all depends if I can get myself out of bed in the morning.
7. Do you know anyone named Steven or Stephen or Steve or Stevie?
Ah yes, I do. Steven is the child of an English friend of mine, who was named after the Australian Cricketer, Steve Waugh. I know a couple of Stephens - one is one of a partnership, Richard and Stephen. I had a Stephen who was my boss in a recent contract. I also know a couple of Steves - I'm not sure of their spelling, but I'm sure one is a Greek Stephanos - the other, I'm not sure. Oh, and there is Steve the builder at the site across the road. Most Stevens/Stephens/Steves are middle aged engineers.
I don't know any Stevies.
8. Which do you prefer: macaroni salad or potato salad?
Look, I like both. A good home-made potato salad is gold - but am very fold of the pasta salad that you get at the supermarkets over here. It's glorious and addictive.
9. Do you have an ice maker in your refrigerator door?
No. Too expensive, needs to be plumbed in - and I rent. My fridge is far more utilitarian.
10. When you woke up this morning, did you get up straightaway or lounge a bit?
I'm a ditherer in the morning, especially now as I'm 'between jobs'. But I was up and about around 9 this morning after some doom scrolling.
I've had a full subscription with the MTC for many years. Every year, of the ten plays, there will be a couple which you adore. They stay with you. They're fantastic. Then there will be four or five which you enjoy - not to the same extent as the great ones, but they're still good. Then there's one or two you will have to dig deep to find things you like. And one will have you wanting to leave at the interval.
Eliza is the play I wish had an interval. It's an hour and a half that I'm never going to get back.
This just didn't do it for me. I get what they're trying to do, but nah. Sorry, didn't work for me. A play about AI. Yeah, it's a bit fraught to begin with. They say it's a psychological thriller. Me, I was bored. It was a talkfest with characters you couldn't get into. It's called Eliza from the references to Pygmalion and the morphing of Eliza Doolittle from a flower-seller to a lady. In this case, Eliza is a computer program changing into generative A.I.
The MTC describe this as follows:
"Dr Joseph Weizenbaum (Dan Spielman), a brilliant professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, carries the trauma of a childhood fleeing Nazi Germany. When he begins testing a new computer program designed to simulate talk therapy – using details of the private life of his secretary Becky (Manali Datar) – the lines between code and connection begin to blur.
The project is lauded by his research assistant (Hamish Michael) and his colleagues, but as wider interest in his breakthrough intensifies, Weizenbaum begins to question the true cost of his innovation.
As society grapples with the ethics of rapidly advancing and increasingly invasive technologies, director Paige Rattray (Black is the New White) delivers an urgent and unnerving depiction of the birth of AI."
Although there were others in the audience who gave this a standing ovation, I was glad to get out of the auditorium. For me, the story fell flat. Sure, it's early in the season, but I was bored. Working in I.T. I could see what they were trying to do, but it fell flat. The three actors gave this there best, but for me, it didn't hit. There were too many Orwell references, ad infinitum. It was circular. Sure, we know now the joys of generative AI, and this was the start of it, but this was trying to do too much with too little.
I did like the set. I did like that the stagehands came out for applause at the end of the night. I like the murmuration light show about three-quarters the way through (which went on a bit too long) but yeah, this one was not for me.
Some obviously liked this a lot more than Jay and I did (Jay slept for most of the first act). I was struggling to stay engaged.
Just because it didn't hit for me doesn't mean others won't like it. However, I can't recommend this. There are better things on and around Melbourne at the moment.
I'm wising up to the insidious nature of online subscriptions.
Buy something. Get signed up for a subscription which you barely know you're doing. Forget about the subscription. Get stung for an amount of money you hadn't budgeted for. Get stuck with a service or product you don't want or need.
Today's case in point - Adobe. I don't have an Adobe licence. I don't mind paying for a limited licence for a short time, like today, when I needed Adobe to make some changes to a PDF file. This isn't something I do often, but rather than find a sub-par online cheap fake, I may as well sign up for a week's trial for a dollar. Makes sense to me. My document gets updated quickly and easily with the good software, then the licence goes away.
WRONG
They've also signed me up for a monthly subscription, not only for the Adobe suite, but their AI offering too.
I just need to fix a document. Sheesh. A ten-minute job. They want me to pay $30 a month for the Adobe, and another $12 a month for the AI.
Thankfully, it was caught in time. Once I'd done the task, I logged back into the Adobe website, cancelled the two subscriptions, made sure I had emails saying the subscriptions were cancelled, and then breathed a sigh of relief.
It just seems more and more vendors are signing you up for these subscriptions. The Adobe crew were thankfully very upfront about the subscription. Not every purchase is like that. Often the first thing you know that you've been signed up for one of these subscriptions is when the funds come out of your account.
One of the best gifts I've ever received is a voucher for the Wheeler Centre. "The Wheeler Centre?" you ask. It's a hub dedicated to books, ideas and writing, where writers and their audience can connect. Just must sort of place.
The voucher was a regift - my friend's daughter received it from her work, she gave it to her mum, and her Mum passed it on to me - for which I will be eternally grateful.
What nobody tells you is that writers are great people who tell fantastic stories and can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. The Wheeler Centre regularly puts authors in conversation with other writers, who sit down and chew the fat, normally about the author's new book and the themes within.
Every time I come away from these sessions absolutely blown away, not only by the ideas, but the generosity extended by the authors. Most times I'll come away from with a book as well. I mean, it would be rude not to. Besides, it's not hoarding if it's books.
So, this last week, I ended up using the last of this voucher. Last Tuesday was the talk at the Town Hall with Magda Szubanski. Last Thursday was the launch of Carrie Tiffany's new book, The Lady with the Dog, in conversation with Helen Garner. Last night I got to see Andrew O'Hagan talk with Marieke Hardy about his new book, On Friendship - a series of essays on the subject.
What gets me is how generous these writers are. They delve into their own lives, their ideas and their processes. They provoke thoughts and emotions. They inspire and entertain. They make me feel like I can write a book too.
I've already written about Magda Szubanski's wonderful session at the Town Hall. She is a true legend and icon.
Carrie Tiffany is an old teacher of mine. Her writing is amazing. Like Claire Keegan, the Irish writer, she writes small books with a huge impact. Being in the same room as Helen Garner is also very special. They launched the book with the snap of a Scotch Finger biscuit. Very Carrie. Very cool. It's always good to connect with other writers.
Andrew O'Hagan is a Scottish writer from great Glasgow. I could sit and listen to him for hours. His latest book, On Friendship, is a collection of essays on the greater theme of friendship. O'Hagan appears to be a man very skilled at friendship. He spoke of many friends, of how making people feel seen, of holding presence, of being there, and friendship's ability to morph, grow and disappear is unique to all friendships as one of the wonders of the world. It was a wonderful talk.
I bought a copy of his last novel, Caledonian Road. I've read a couple of his books - Mayflies, which looks at the end of a special friendship, is a great, thought-provoking read. As he was doing a signing, I popped up. May as well say hello, and thanks for his wonderful work.
"It's lovely, to meet you," he said as he held out a hand.
"And you, though we have met before."
"Yes, you were here at a writer's festival 25-years-ago. I was volunteering and I drove you from the hotel down to the venue. You were texting Zadie Smith. You're one of my best author stories." (This goes down with being stuck in traffic with David Malouf and saying to Graeme Blundell that my father would be very pleased I got to drive around Alvin Purple.)
O'Hagan exudes the air of the incredibly decent man.
