Kebab

A book that I will never be qualified to write:
"How to eat a kebab in a gentile manner"

Cheers

There should be a crime against the misuse of the sign-off "cheers". Evil librarian, currently the black hole of my previously unabated optimism, signs her emails "Cheers -------" (name removed to prevent plants wilting and children crying). Trust me, there is NO cheer when you receive an email from this woman. It is like all the joy is sucked out of the atmosphere in one inhalation.

Thus I believe that signing off with "cheers", when the opposite is the case, is a societal felony. The punishment for this should be the offender's immediate removal from existence and, if possible, from history and the universe in general. That is all.

Her

One cannot live in constant fear of a librarian.

Missing

I had a dream that a guy from work went missing.
I found this out via a sales assistant at a travelgoods store.

Must fix dress from Saturday night. Straps literally snapped off the dress. And only one strap from bra remains. Out of four straps, three came off/undone of their own accord. Is that a record? Love the dress, not so much me in it, but tolerable.

A productive day. A treatise on odes and epic poems followed by fun poems. Got stuck at the end trying to compose a limerick with the syllabic pattern 9/9/6/6/9 but couldn't think of a last line. The first four lines go:

There once was a girl named Alina
You could not find anyone cleaner
She would wash once an hour
In a chemical shower
BLAH x 9 (help? anyone?)

Weighing up the rhyme 'sheen her', 'greener' and 'screen her'.

There are some pretty rude ones out there. The traditional opening line for a limerick is actually 'There once was a man from Nantucket' which opens all sorts of cans of worms. On Wikipedia:

There once was a man from Nantucket,
Whose dick was so long he could suck it,
While wiping his chin,
He said with a grin,
"If my ear were a cunt, I could fuck it."

Listening: Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, 2nd movement played by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra of 1944, conducted by Eugene Ormandy.

Have tax pack. Too late to start the bureaucracy.

Full week. *Sigh* Very full week. When will I eat? When will I sleep?

The Australia Test

The Australian government wants to introduce a test for potential migrants. The test will contain questions about the history and culture of Australia and also gauge the English skills and 'value system' of the applicant. Sense or xenophobia? Let's examine this idea from a few angles:

The idea itself is not a bad one. I mean, we can't expect that anyone who wants to emigrate can just waltz over here, wait around and then fill out a form without first displaying that their value system is akin to that of the people who already live here. It would also be handy, just to get around, to know a bit about the country you've moved to and be able to speak a bit of the language.

However, there are a number of problems surrounding the idea. The first question I would like to pose is: what is the motivation for introducing this test? Migrants already need to pass a 'points' test to determine whether they will be a valuable member of society. The points test includes, for example, their skills, their age, family connections and a history of criminal convictions. Obviously migrants who have a skill of which Australia has a shortage would be considered more valuable than one who has a skill that is in oversupply. Migrants who will contribute to society via employment are better than the elderly (who would be considered a burden to the health system) and you can kind of guess the value in the other attributes. Also, if you are very wealthy and not a criminal we reckon we'd be better off with you than without you.

So... the motivation for introducing this test seems rather political to me. Keep the 'riff-raff' out of the country via legal means, in a way. A former version of an 'Australia' test could be set in any European language that the tester chose. According to Mike Carlton's SMH column, former PM and federal attorney-general at the time, Robert Menzies once set a test for a known communist in Scottish Highland Gaelic in order to keep him out of the country. Which brings me to my next question -

Would most Australians pass the Australia test? If you randomly gave a test (in 'any European language' or otherwise) to an Australian citizen, even narrowing it down to a citizen who was born in Australia, would they be able to complete it? I don't think so. Full marks would be rare. I think maybe 40% of the population could answer questions on the name of our first PM, the rules of AFL or the number of Australian troops who died in WW2. Hell, I only know the answer to the first one. Besides, many Australians can't even spell and don't know where to place apostrophes (see Spelling 101), so they'd probably fail the English test anyway.

Speaking of which, isn't there just a tiny weeny bit of hypocrisy in British colonialism? Indigenous Australians never asked colonising Brits whether they could complete a test in 'any Koori language'. Those Brits just claimed the land and massacred the locals. Sure, we live in different times now ('civilised' or not) but the idea that this Australia test will allow people with knowledge of our history and culture and those with the same 'value system' and English skills in and keep those who fail out means that we'll be getting people that the government agenda deems desirable. Same old, same old. Where's the diversity?

Howard wants migrants to conform in as many ways as possible and yet pays lip service to keeping the essence of their former culture. What he means is for migrants to bring only the good things from their former culture, with the definition of 'good' determined by the government agenda. No wonder there are a bunch of alarmed people out there. For example, there are a number of Muslims who believe that this policy is designed to prevent any more Muslims entering the country. The barrier is not just religious, it favours migrants from an English-speaking background of a similar culture to Australia. Migrants from the UK, Europe and USA, in particular.

My conclusion on this matter is that you cannot tell anyone's suitability to citizenship by an Australia test any more than you can tell someone's intelligence by an IQ test. Sure, it might give a reasonably good idea of an applicant's suitability, but it misses out on some of the intangible things that cannot be expressed in the results of a test, things like passion for a nation, a willingness to become part of a community and to contribute to society. All I ask in return is: isn't there a better way to do this?

Power

I finished reading George Orwell's '1984' for the the first time a few days ago. I found it to be quite well-written and I liked a lot of the descriptions he used throughout the narrative ('beautiful rubbish' being my favourite). I also understood a lot of political undercurrents strewn from beginning to end and I recognise why the book was so important and groundbreaking - even now. Especially now.

On a personal note, however, I just do not understand the concept of power as an end. Having power means that you can do things, absolute power means that you can do anything you want. Having power and not using it defeats the purpose. It's like having a car and not using it - what's the point? It sits in a garage and gathers dust. Even if it looks pretty, if you never use it there is no point.

Dystopic novels tend to emphasise many things that, to me, seem pointless. Is the power there in case one would like to use it? Does having the power bring pleasure to some? If so, then there is a point. But in '1984', no one in power ever alludes to the possibility that they would like to use the power for anything other than to maintain power. Furthermore, no one seems to derive pleasure from having it. In fact, the opposite occurs - power is a grim reality and those in power relish the dourness of their possession. Pleasure is forbidden and those perpetuating the power do it out of duty. To me it's like drinking your own urine in order to urinate and then drink it again. Over and over.

Is Orwell commenting on the machination of society, that it exists only for a perpetual nothing? In my world, even the 'evil' people have a reason for doing the things they do. It may be stupidity, or a belief, or a pursuit of what they believe to be happiness. They wield their power in their 'evil' deeds as means to an end but power is never the end itself. Power is a vehicle, not a reason. Perhaps I am searching for reason where there may be none, which is why I do not understand the ultimate theme in '1984'.

Eatability

Why don't they have a classy restaurant at Sydney Airport? It would be a reprieve from aeroplane food, a good place to stop for people in transit or a hearty last meal before a loved one flew off. It would be popular with exec types who don't want to line up with the plebs in the food court or choose from the plethora of same-same cafes. The food would need to have a quick turnaround time and diners could save money off airport parking (if they drove in). I think a classy restaurant could earn heaps of money. And it would be a nice place to take someone and be assured that they won't miss their flight.

It's Saturday

Dream: Sharing a single bed with my lesbian lover.

Reading: Sydney Morning Herald
Previous: 1984, George Orwell

Listening: If I'm Choking, Make a Scene, The Scare
Previous: Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go, WHAM!

Browsing: n/a
Previous: www.witmol.com

Thinking: about the nature of popularity. Would I consider myself popular? Do I want to be popular?
Previous: I hope my bra strap doesn't snap at tonight's prenuptial gathering of female persons.

To do: update 'witmol.com'. Do tax return. Sort photos for Northern Exposure travel journal.

Varekai (live show)

Cirque du Soleil
Le Grand Chapiteau, Moore Park (18th August, 2006)

A word of warning about possible bias - ever since Cirque du Soleil toured with 'Saltimbanco' in 1999 I have been fascinated with this troupe but have never managed to scrape together enough money to see a live show. Fortunately, I have a wonderful friend who bought tickets for my birthday, but due to unforeseen circumstances could not attend with me. I took my flatmate Sireesha and we both tiptoed into the tent...

Le Grand Chapiteau (Big Top) is a different world to the evening dark outside. An aura of palpable suspense hangs definitively from the rafters, much like the ropes for the various swings used in the show. From where we sat, a forest of silver-coloured poles populated our left field of vision, while the surprisingly small stage formed most of our right periphery. Unfortunately, there was a balustrade that divided them, unavoidably obstructive, even punctured, as it was, with diamond windows.

The pre-show entertainment ended up being part of the show itself. A comedian and his assistant spent several minutes acting as amusing ushers, using silent, slapstick humour to the laughter of the thickening crowd. Their double act recurred throughout the show to relieve some of the bated breath moments with chuckles, after tension had built during some of the more gasp-worthy scenes (most scenes, actually, but I'll get to that). One of the funniest scenes had the comedian being suave while mouthing the words to 'Ne Me Quitte Pas'. The spotlight moved him around the stage, made him cross the tent, enter the audience, run across the tent, climb a pole and finally, exit the Chapiteau at the end of the song.

The story of Varekai, meaning 'whatever' in gypsy language, is about a winged boy who falls into a forest near the mouth of a volcano, where many strange creatures live. The creatures help the boy recover and scene by scene he explores the community of these colourful characters until he is well enough to return to his homeland. There's isn't so much a plot as a loose story arc around which the scenes and costumes are designed, so I'm not even sure whether I presented that synopsis accurately. Whatever. As they say.

The imagery, however, is stunning. The set, virtually bare to allow the free movement of equipment and performers in and out of the space, flourishes with the teeming acrobats in vivid costumes. Some are comical and expressive, while others are elegant and dynamic. All, impressively, allow the performers to move fluidly side-to-side, around-and-around, upside-down and writhing-on-the-floor, according to their speciality.

The more gasp-worthy acts were airborne, using swings, drapes and ropes in various combinations. My favourite was a pair of acrobats with one rope each that circled and intertwined as they came together in formations that only experienced choreography could ever imagine. The human body is an amazing tool and Cirque du Soleil is a place where the body is expressed as art with the skill of the performer as the artist. The beauty is the dignity and dedication of each individual performer to their art and the manifestation of those traits in front of an appreciative audience.

Another to note was the youth act where three boys, aged about six to eight, each twirled a rope holding a bowl at each end. The instrument was twirled in various ways, thrown up and caught across the stage after each boy had executed a series of somersaults and flips across the floor. The impressive thing was not that each boy could do this, but they could do this simultaneously and not bump into each other.

The only act that made me feel weird rather than amazed was the contortionist, who didn't come on until quite late in the show. Her feats were pretty impressive (e.g. balancing, contorted, on a pole with a surface about the size of a hand) but I couldn't help feeling that it was a little bit wrong and couldn't quite shake the feeling.

Luckily, the final act was also the most exhilarating. The performers wheeled in two grounded swings with canoe-shaped pendulums facing the back of the performance space where they'd placed a stage, about 2.5m off the ground with rigged a canvas sail behind it. The acrobats started doing really cool things like swinging and somersaulting onto the platform and tumbling into the canvas sails. Then, when they got tired of that they started doing even cooler things like making a human pyramid on the stage and somersaulting onto that. As if that wasn't enough, they moved the pendulums so they were facing each other and started moving both of them such that an acrobat could somersault off one and land on the other. For the sit-tight-they're-not-really-going-to-do-it-oh-my-god-they-are moment one acrobat on each swing launched himself into the air and landed on the other swinging pendulum. Simultaneously. Without a mid-air collision. I almost bit my nails. You had to be there to believe it.

Needless to say, the troupe received rip-roaring applause that continued for several minutes. It was only then that I realised that the music that had accompanied the scenes had been playing LIVE at the back of the stage (to our far left, in the pole forest), which brings me to the only gripe about the evening. Price. We were sitting in B-reserve, partially obstructed by a balustrade and with a side view. If you wanted to pay $250 for a Tapis Rouge seat (front view), then the show would have given a depth of field that would have enhanced the acts, with the added stimulation of the backdrop. Unfortunately, most of the show played to the front view, which I found rather unfair. Next time, when I'm rich (or lucky enough to win tickets), I'll be sure to sit where there's a front view to get the most out of the experience. For now I think I'm lucky enough to see a Cirque du Soleil production. Too bad I couldn't afford anything in the gift shop either...