The competition gods are smiling on me and extended the Richell Prize entry date until next week - making me feel less crap about my entry. So instead of madly editing my entry tonight, I've got a little more time - and this has got me excited about writing again. But I'm flailing to find something to write about tonight. This is one of the joys of being committed to writing a post everyday.
So here are some sensory things I've been thinking about.
Today's black and white photo was taken on the way to the gym last night. I'm really enjoying working in the black and white format. I'll never be a photographer, but I really enjoy doing this.
My stomach muscles are aching. Fifteen leg lifts three times, plus three rounds of Russian Twists will do that to you. It's almost as good as the feeling of knowing you can do fifteen leg lifts three times over - though the last round was tough.
Walking in the sunshine, by the river, at a time when the tow path is nearly empty is a joy. It makes the weekly team meeting go quickly.
Who knew Baileys mixed with a bit of Mr Black's Coffee Liqueur could be so yummy. This was discovered by chance at team drinks tonight. I couldn't decide whether I wanted Baileys or Mr Black to drink.
And nothing tastes better than a baked bean and cheese toastie on a cold night.
And my beloved cat has the silkiest pelt and the fishiest breath, even though I don't feed him fishy dinners.
Just receiving some news which I don't quite know how to process, of course I turned to retail therapy.
The dodgy news is not bad - it's just some stuff with work which will seriously disrupt life for a few weeks at the end of the year. It's all fine - the cat's not going to like it, but them's the breaks.
Anyway, I go and look to appease my soul, I looked to find a way to spend some money. Not much money, as I'm still in povo mode after a month of big bills, but a little bit of money, because this is my outlet when you find out that you're going to be sent to Boganville (the equivalent of Bumfuck, Nebraska) for three weeks to do some training, separating you from your beloved cat for that time.
Oh, and I have a pimple on my lip line which is driving me spare.
Enough moaning. I spent some money.
As we were about to go into lockdown a month ago there was a festival called Rising, which piqued my interest. Anyway, as we got locked down, the festival was shot down and I thought that would be end of it.
But no.
Some of the installations are coming back, running again and will be around the traps for a while.
The ticket is for the week after next, at lunchtime. It's being held in the Flinders Street Station Ballroom - a place rarely seen by the public. As I normally work from the office on Thursdays, I've scored a ticket for lunchtime. It's a five minute walk over there and a good excuse to get out for lunch. It's in the diary already. And I admire Piccinini's work. It's strange and disturbing, but provocative work, which I've seen all around the world over the years.
It feels good to be putting some money into the Arts.
I've always wondered what was in the rooms above the Flinders Street Station.
And I will get over the fact I'm being sent to Bumfuck, Nebraska for a few weeks to train. It will be alright.
I just have to have my knee jerk reaction and let it all out the rant before smiling nicely and knowing that this is a part of my job.
I have art to go and see. It will make me happy. (And I have a long weekend starting the following day - be thankful for small miracles).
A chapter breakdown of my novel - which is next to impossible to do when you work like me and write in a more 'organic' way - so I have to wing it.
A page of a synopsis - sure, I can do that.
250 words on why a year of mentoring with a Hachette editor would be a good thing for you.
And about three chapters or most of a section of the book, up to 20,000 words.
And I never learn that doing stuff like this should be done over a few weeks not a few nights. Which is daft, as it's just another way of shooting myself in the foot.
But you have to be in it to win it.
On the good side of things, I have the 20000 words.
And I can do some tweaking.
And all will be well.
I just wish I could get away from having to sit here all day (See below). This is where I work. This is where I write. And I'm a bit over it. Thankfully, next week, I'll be back in the office now that the mask edict has been lifted.
Please don't get me wrong, I'm not anti-mask. Not at all.
But I'm waiting, waiting, waiting for them to remove the requirement when we're in the office.
Masks on public transport? Absolultely. I hope we have to always wear them while we're on the trains, trams and buses. For one, they prevent you smelling the armpits of people you're sardined in with. They also might prevent some of the person-to-person disease transfer which occurs. I can't be the only one who's not been sick since not taking regular public transport.
And I good with masks at supermarkets and where you can't adequately socially distance.
Of course, there's the joys of the anonmnity mask provide. You can silently tell people to fuck off from behind a mask. But dogs don't respond to you in the same way when you wear one. Dogs like to see all of your face. Some people like that too.
I talked about this with Jay last night. Jay has no sympathy. She's a doctor. She's been wearing masks at work since this whole pandemic thing started. Mind you, she gets to wear surgical masks and change them regularly through the day.
We have different jobs. As a G.P. she's moving around a bit. Seeing people as well as working on the computer. For me, as a writer, in an office, I sit down staring at a screen all day. I find the masks uncomfortable after an hour or so. And yes, I could buy my own surgical masks, but I prefer the ones that I fling in the wash at the end of the day. I don't like the waste made from the disposably ones.
Also, as a writer. I sit in front of a computer all day. After an hour the mask gets annoying. After a day with it on, your skin doesn't feel right.
Yes, it's a first world problem and I'm lucky enough to have a job where I can work from home - but I'm at the stage where I want to be in the office again. I want to go further than my living room. I want to see more people - talk to somebody other than my cat. I want to sit and talk to people in the same room - preferably without a mask.
This morning, he diegned to give me a cuddle. This isn't something he's known for, but he's quite insistant when he wants one, scrambling up the covers, snuggling into my shoulder, demanding space under the covers near my neck.
Yes, I'm talking about my cat, Lucifer. I'm not that lucky.
He's not the cuddliest cat in the world, but when he does come in and give me a snuggle, I'll take it.
He stayed for about five minute, his rarely heard purr on, pressing himself into my neck, his paws kneeding my arm. Full on cuddly cat mode.
I lifted the covers to see if he wanted to get under. He normally sleeps on top of he bed. He was happy to stay on tp of the blankets.
Then he got up and left, going into the living room to play with his toys.
I love this cat. I really do.
But I do wishe he's be cuddly like these wombat joeys. (I really want to cuddle a wombat. It's on the bucket list).
I also hope next time he decides to shower me with affection, it's not 4.30 in the morning.
Photo original:Alex Coppel in the Herald Sun 6/7/2021 via my Instagram.
It's that time of the week again - time to get the questions done.
As always, the questions are supplied by Bev at Sunday Stealing.
1. 3 things I love
My friends and family
My cat
My health
2. Last song I listened to
This:
Please don't judge me. It was on in the gym.
3. Turn offs
In no set order:
Rude people
Bananas
People who think they are experts because they've read a few articles on the internet
People who won't let you have a say
When my cat wipes his bum on the hall runner. (Grrr)
4. What color underwear are you wearing right now?
I'm not wearing any underwear. In my defence, it's Saturday night and I'm in my pyjamas.
5. How many tattoos do you have?
One. A very small Chinese symbol on my hip.
6. How many piercings do you have?
Technically four. Both ears have been pierced twice. Very boring and very eighties. My friend Sez was with my when I had the second piercings done when I was eighteen. I remember her laughing.
7. Meaning behind my URL
I've always love the fact that denial is a big river in Africa. I think Pandora Queen of Denial is a great name for a blog.
8. What I find attractive in other people.
All sorts of things. I love a sharp wit, a quick brain and a tendency to kindness. Physically, I'm a sucker for a hairy chest, soggy brown eyes and when men smell good - natural or not. Smell is so important. I've not continued in relationships because the person didn't smell good.
9. Something that’s currently worrying me.
Oh, all sorts of things. The corruption in the Federal Government being a big one. It's insidious. I also want to know when I can travel again. And I'm starting to think about what my next job might be. I'm an overthinker so you could say I worry all the time.
10. Something that’s constantly on my mind.
My novel - and how little I've managed to get done in the last six months. I'm forever thinking about that.
11. My favorite store.
My favourite soap shop at the local shopping centre closed down a little while ago. And I'm not a big fan of shopping - but my favourite shop in Melbourne is a paper shop, Il Papiro, down Degraves Street. It's just gorgeous. I could also spend a lot of time and money in Mecca Cosmetica.
12. What I did yesterday.
Saturday - I went to the gym, went into town and had my eyebrows fixed up (they needed it), collected my mail, picked up a prescription, did some house work including two loads of washing and I did some writing. A quiet Saturday, thank goodness - it was a big week.
13. My favorite blog
I read the Plastic Mancunian fairly regularly as well as an old writing colleague's blog, Fletcher Beaver.
14. Someone I miss
I still miss my friend Reindert who lives in Colorado - maybe next year the borders will open and we will be able to see each other again - and yes, this is true - we Australians can only leave the country if we have permission from the government - and are willing to fit the bill for two weeks of hotel quarantine when you come back - that's about $3000... and don't get me started on the vaccine rollout here... Anyway, I miss Reindert.
15. Reason why I follow Sunday Stealing
I've been doing the Sunday questions for many years. For a long time it was a reason for keeping this blog going - I promised myself I'd do the questions each week. I've kept this promise. It keeps the fingers turning over.
Where: Melbourne Theatre Company. The Southbank Theatre
Until: 17 July
Stars: 4 and a bit
My day was dodgy. After a wonderful breakfast with a friend, I came back to find some plumbers with an angle grinder, singing KISS songs outside of my window for most of the day. It didn't make for good working conditions.
But then the day got better. A lovely dinner before the theatre - I mean who can say no to braised beef cheeks? But then as we were about to go to the play it started to tip down. I was without an umbrella or coat and the rain was going nowhere.
Scumbag hack #452: Ask the maitre d' if they have a old umbrella in lost property. They may just oblige.
In my case, I scored a very practical red and white striped umbrella to keep my dry on the way to the theatre. It probably helps that I've had dinner at this place once or twice a month for ten years, but I scored a brolly - and I'm very proud of this. I've offered to bring it back, but I was told not to bother. They'd had it in lost property for months.
Anyway, we got to the theatre, masked up, checked in and wandered into the auditorium and were heartily entertained for the next hour and a half.
The Truth was penned by Florian Zeller and translated from French to English by noted playwright and screenwriter, Christopher Hampton, who was behind such works as Dangerous Liaisons, Atnoement and more recently, The Father.
The play tells the story of two happily married couples, Michel and Laurence, and Paul and Alice. Michel and Paul are best friends. Michel (Stephen Curry) who is having an affair with Alice (Katrina Milosevic), wife of his best friend. Paul (Bert La Bonte) and Laurence (Michaela Banas) are seemingly oblivious to the affair. But when Alice gets a little antsy, just how far will Michel go to keep the affair a secret? I won't say much more than this is a darkly comic comedy of manners which looks at people at their best and worse.
Sarah Giles' direction is on point. Slick, fully realised and punchy. Punchy in that the 90 minutes of the play goes very quickly, and punchy in a way that you really want to slap Michel most of the time.
The cast are all fantastic. Stephen Curry steals the show as the hapless, rather useless Michel, torn between wanting to keep the lie going, but wondering if there were any truths out there to start with. Michaela Banas brings the right sort of pathos to Laurence, the wronged wife. Bert La Bonte plays the straight man, Paul, a character worthy of our sympathy. There are twists and turns through the course of the 90 minute play as you try and ascertain who is lying, and who is telling the truth.
On top of this, there's a killer set and great costumes. The set is minimal but very effective. And the snow scene is one of the funniest things I've seen in a while.
I can happily say this is an awesome night out. Well worth obtaining a ticket to see it. The Southbank Theatre normally holds 540 patrons. With current restrictions, there were 300 in the audience.
If you can score a ticket, do. This is a great production.
