Zombie statues

I had a dream last night that I went back in time with my parents to revisit conversations where important conspirational things were said. In one incident, I accidentally revealed myself to a conspirator, changing the timeline. This started a chain of events that eventually caused a small group of my friends to go upstairs and get stoned. Only they weren't stoned, they were more like zombie statues.

Visitors

Brown butterfly that came to see me while I was half-naked, getting ready for work. Do you know how hard it is to try and shepherd a butterfly out of a bedroom?



This green insect, camouflaged as a leaf, came and sat on my desk to watch me file some articles. It still is sitting, still is sitting on the bust of Strauss upon my deskinor. (That Poe spoof totally didn't work, however there is a bust of Strauss sitting on my bedside table).

Anyone got a spare $700K?

My brother, the rich one, just sent me an email detailing precisely how I may be able to afford a place to live in this unaffordable town of mine. Specifically, the north shore of Sydney.

Apparently if I threw my life savings into a mortgage and my parents threw what they got from the sale of their investment house into my mortgage and I bought a 3 bedroom apartment for $600-700K and rented two rooms out and I claimed 2/3 of expenses from tax, then I could probably manage a ten year mortgage. Probably dependent on me eating beans on toast during that time.

It's times like these when I take the Anton* school of thought - "if it's going to take 20 years before I'm out of debt compared with renting, then I think I'll rent".

* Anton is my sister's boyfriend. He is encouragingly pragmatic.

Useful anti-junk mail websites

If you live in the United States and want to reduce or eliminate your unwanted mail there are two websites that will do all the legwork:

Catalog Choice is a free service where you enter your details and select the catalogues you no longer want to receive and they will contact the marketer for you and ask them to take your details off their list. It is a project of the Ecology Center in the US.

41 Pounds is named after the amount of junk mail an American apparently recieves in a year (around 20kg for the metrically minded). It does much the same thing as Catalog Choice but I think attacks more marketers and charges a $41 fee for a five year service. They donate a third of the fee to community and environmental projects.

My next post will be advice on how you can stop unsolicited junk mail.

Manifesto

What is The Return To Sender Movement?
One blogger's crusade to rid the world of unwanted mail.

Who is this for?
Anyone who receives, and becomes irritated by, unwanted mail and wants to know what to do about it.

Why? (short version)

• It's annoying


• Life is too short to sift through unwanted mail


• We can reduce the use of paper by killing off junk mail


• Direct marketers need to innovate


• Less advertising material = less temptation = less material consumption

Why? (long version)
Beyond apathy: The problem with a lot of people who are annoyed by unwanted mail is that they don't care enough to do something about it. So every day they pick up their mail and throw half of it away because they can't be bothered attacking the problem at its source. This movement aims to motivate people into solving the unwanted mail problem with a minimum of effort.

No time: If only you could just grab the contents of your mailbox and be assured that it's all for you and your fellow residents and that it's all useful stuff. If you could cut down on the time it takes to sift through mail by reducing the amount of useless and unwanted mail then that time can be better spent thinking of calm blue oceans instead of wringing a direct marketer's neck*.

(* Thoughts resembling reality may occur)

Eco-friendly: The first tenet of environmental guardianship is REDUCE. So although you may recycle your unwanted mail it is, in fact, better to stop them printing this crud in the first place. Think of it as 'prevention better than cure' for the environment. I doubt that most marketers use environmentally friendly practices in their printing (double-sided post-consumer recycled paper with non-toxic ink). If a bunch of people started telling marketers to stop sending stuff, then this would equate to a reduction in demand for resources.

Innovate or die: Let's face it, direct mail marketing has a low yield, about a 2% response rate for untargeted campaigns. That means, for every 100 letters sent, 2 people respond. That doesn't even mean they necessarily buy, they might ring up and enquire. (And I'm not sure if me ringing up to ask them to take me off their list counts...). That means 98 people are wasting the marketer's resources. Surely there's a better way? Of course there's a better way!

But I'm not a marketing genius but I've noticed that when people take things voluntarily, there's a much better response rate. Think samples, or ads in publications or piggybacking off another product. I'm quite happy to flick through my local paper and look at the ads because the primary reason I pick it up is to read the articles. In comparison, unwanted mail just doesn't rate. It's lazy, it's boring. Marketing is supposed to be the new creative frontier and we're still getting snail mail? Go forth and innovate, dammit!

Resist temptation: Here's one for the shopaholics, like my mum. My mum loves catalogues. It means she can find out what she wants and know where to get it. The problem with this is she comes back from the shops and regrets buying so much stuff that she doesn't need. When I lived at home I started throwing out the catalogues before she got to them. It meant she couldn't find an excuse to go to the shops other than for groceries (and what happened during that trip was out of my control). It meant she wasn't being manipulated by marketing.

I felt manipulated in a different way. I used to look at catalogues and circle the things I wanted. Being a student, I didn't have much money so most of it remained out of my possession, but the lack of having things made me feel left behind. When I realised that this was part of the marketing psychology, I snapped out of it and have been anti-overconsumption since. Note, not anti-consumption, anti-overconsumption.

Anti-overconsumption also fits in with my earlier point about the 'reduce' tenet. The sooner we reduce unnecessary material consumption, the better for the environment.

Manifesto over. On with the other stuff...

Witmol goes North

Well, the election result looks all right - in my opinion, a Labor government (dogged by a stereotype of incompetency) is better than a Coalition government (known evil). Whether Australia's new Rudd-er (ho, ho, ho, bet you've never heard that one before) will turn out to be incompetent is yet to be seen but most of us, it seems, are willing to give him a go. And I think The Greens picked up the balance of power in the Senate so I'm pretty happy with that result.

However, North Sydney is still stuck with bloody Joe Hockey. Nooooooooooo..! Dammit, maybe I should have defaced that poster of him opposite my apartment block. Then again, he knows where I live so perhaps I would have been suspect #1. I don't suppose Mike Bailey would have been any better anyhow. Ah bugger it. I guess you can't have everything.

I voted absentee in my parents' electorate (the very safe Liberal seat of Mitchell - the new guy there is a young 'un, Alex Hawke) and it gave me such pleasure to walk past all the pamphleteers just to dismiss them with a "I'm sorry, I'm not from this electorate". I recommend it. Especially to the Christian Democratic Party. Seriously people, there's no place for religion in politics. Haven't you ever heard of Estates? I belong to the Fourth.

I then spent the best part of three hours in the thick of transport-related 'disasters' (usual kind...). First was the drive to the petrol station to fill up my dad's car and pump up his tyres and clean up the exterior to hide the fact that his alway-garaged pride and joy has spent about ten days of the last month outside, under a tree, in the rain. I'd saved up a Shell petrol voucher only to find that there was no longer a Shell where I thought there was. Then the squeegee cleaned the back windscreen but squirted dirty water all over the boot of the car, under the freakin' spoiler so I had to use paper towels to mop it all up. Top that off with my struggle with one of the old-fashioned air pressure hoses (I can never be sure whether I'm pumping it right - let's just hope for the best)...

So that my parents could have both vehicles at their disposal when they returned, I decided to catch public transport home. Laden with groceries. It is at this point that I questioned my decision to buy 3kg of grapefruit. Problem was that my parents do not have a bus timetable at their disposal and there was no internet at the house. So I had to call the transport info line which required me to know the bus stop number before I could find out the timetable. After much button-pushing, I managed to talk to a human who found my bus stop number for me and told me that the next bus was at 3:55pm and the next after that 4:55pm.

It was already 3:40pm and it takes 10 mins to walk to the bus stop uninhibited, never mind that I knew I was going to be burdened with four bags full of stuff. So I had to quickly lock up, pack everything together and heave everything up the hill to the bus stop. I only made it because I saw the bus as it entered the roundabout before the bus stop so ran in front of it to catch the driver's attention. Otherwise it was an hour wait...

So I made it to Beecroft Station. The citybound trains usually come at 21 and 51 past the hour on weekends so it was unusual to see the northbound train pull up first at 4:33pm. After it had pulled away, an automated announcement "reminded" passengers that there was trackwork on the line from North Strathfield to Strathfield. Now this particular trackwork is the bane of my existence because it is only one stop's worth of trackwork but the usual three minute ride turns into a 30 minute nightmare when passengers alight at North Strathfield and cram onto an undersupply of buses, negotiate Parramatta Road and disembark at Strathfield Station. It's even harder when you have four bags of groceries. However, I felt even worse for the group of consumers who'd just bought a suite of furniture from Rhodes Ikea.

I waddled onto the platform at Strathfield. I should also note at this point that the milk bar at Beecroft had run out of newspapers and the kiosk at Strathfield didn't appear to sell papers, so I was stuck with loads of dead time and nothing to fill it with. Eventually my train arrived and I reached Waverton just after 6pm. Just love it when a 30-min drive is a 2.5-hour public transport disaster. I'm losing my grip on public transport advocacy, climate change or no climate change.

I was particularly annoyed that the announcement about trackwork did not play until after the northbound train had left the platform at Beecroft because it would have been my pleasure to change trains at Hornsby and travel down the North Shore line instead of having to deal with the North Strathfield crap. Hmph.

Anyway, today there was more bad news in the north: the result of the NSW vs TAS one-day cricket match at North Sydney Oval. Although NSW totally annihilated Tasmania in their recent test, NSW went down by 9 wickets this evening. A poor effort. To be fair, we batted pretty well even though we kept losing wickets. And fielded magnificently... just no verve in the bowling, Bracken apart. Anyway, here's a pic of Australian captain Ricky Ponting as his typical swashbuckling self:

Lotus & Ming (dim sum)

I'm currently writing a story about niche businesses and one of my interviewees was the lovely Karen Lavecky from Lotus & Ming. She was kind enough to send me some of her product (frozen dim sum) to try and I promised to send her some feedback.

The taste test involved:
Peking duck spring rolls
Shiitake & leek spring rolls
Pork & bok choy dumplings
Scallop & shiitake har gow (dumplings)
Soy fusion dipper
Spicy plum dipper

I should preface this by saying I prepared two rounds of dim sum in different ways. I’m terrible at frying so the first method I tried was baking, as per the back of all four packets. This worked well for the spring rolls but gave the dumplings an unusual crispiness (which wasn’t bad, just unorthodox).

My second attempt was experimental, baking the spring rolls in a sandwich press, which worked and took less time to cook and, since I don’t have any steaming implements, steaming the dumplings using a lettuce leaf on a wire cooling rack perched above a saucepan with boiling water in it, covered by the pan lid. This was more successful than baking the dumplings and it deserves to be said that the scallop dumplings tasted exactly like they do in a yum cha restaurant with the added texture of the shiitake.

Both the Peking duck spring rolls and the shiitake & leek spring rolls under both baking methods maintained their crispiness and went well with both dipping sauces. The triumph here is the balance of the heavier favours – the duck and the leek – with the more delicate ‘top notes’ of the bean sprouts and shiitake respectively. The best combination was the peking duck with the plum sauce and the shiitake/leek with the soy fusion.

My favourite of the lot was the flavoursome pork & bok choy dumplings, which exploited the right balance with the simplicity of the combination, a ‘why didn’t anyone do this before?’ type flavour. It married equally well with both sauces and, like the har gow, worked better steamed than baked.

Overall, the range seemed lighter, fresher and healthier than what you would get at standard yum cha. The option ‘to fry or not to fry’ means that consumers can control the amount of oil in the meal, which means you can walk away, belly full, without feeling greasy but still have your fill of tasty dim sum. I like tasting what’s in the dim sum as opposed to the additives (oil, fat, MSG) so it is great that the true flavours are more prominent in this take-home range.

Yeah, I'll be buying some to keep in the freezer in case guests drop by.

Food rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10 (a personal thing - not that fond of Chinese vege)

Come the election

I've never looked forward to an election so keenly in my life, if only to stop the barrage of political mail invading my mailbox. As previously blogged I have written to Joe Hockey, the incumbent MP of my electorate, and have stated, on no uncertain terms, that he remove me from his propaganda mailing list.

It should come as no surprise to anyone that politicians do not read their mail and therefore we can infer that they also do not listen to the people of their electorate. The following four pieces of mail landed in my mailbox today:



1: "NOT AT THIS ADDRESS FOR MORE THAN 1 YEAR PLS DELETE FROM RECORDS"
On the back of a bank letter for the previous tenant. I send the letters back RTS politely explaining she no longer lives here but they keep coming. Is this where all our bank fees go, chasing customers who no longer live at their previous residences?

2: "NO POLITICAL ADVERTISING"
On the back of a letter from Mike Bailey, the Labor candidate for my electorate. I'm hoping the straightforward message might ring a bell as it is the label that my mailbox has carried for a good four weeks (through heavy rain, I might add - pretty good for removable Scotch tape)

3: "THIS IS HARASSMENT I TOLD YOU TO STOP MAILING ME"
On the back of a letter from Joe Hockey, Sydney South address. Pretty clear, given my previous correspondence to him. Which he clearly hasn't read or 'actioned'.

4: "I TOLD YOU TO DELETE ME FROM YOUR MAILING LIST. IF YOU DON'T LISTEN, HOW CAN YOU EXPECT ME TO VOTE FOR YOU?"
On the back of another letter from Joe Hockey, North Sydney address. Enough said.

All of these epistles will be sent back RTS tomorrow. Hopefully the Northside Courier has published my vehement letter about mailbox harassment.

While I'm on the topic, many pieces of unaddressed mail have been unceremoniously shoved in my mailbox despite my "NO POLITICAL ADVERTISING" sign. I will award a dagger for each unsolicited piece of propaganda...

Joe Hockey/Liberal: 5 daggers (and I will PERSONALLY WRING HIS NECK for the SIX other letters he has sent)
Mike Bailey/Labor: 4 daggers (one letter)
The Greens: 2 daggers (very disappointing)
Climate Change Coalition: 1 dagger (bit of a letdown)

Fucking hell, why can't it be Saturday already?

LOLpollies

I can has cheezburger and the impending election has so much to answer for...

George Michael

I had a dream that I was having tea with an old colleague of mine, Sonya. We were wedged in an alcove at the QVB sitting at what looked like a Baroque style wrought iron garden set painted cream with the appropriate floral flourishes. Then George Michael came by - he was an acquaintance of Sonya's. I tried not to fall out of my seat. Instead I shook his hand and we chatted briefly and I tried to be cool around him. I asked him why he hadn't toured in Australia for a long time and he laughed.

Then I was at the swimming pool downstairs (for those of you who aren't familiar with the Queen Victoria Building, it certainly does not have a swimming pool) getting told off for indecent exposure. Apparently some time in the past I had appeared naked in front of everyone before diving into the pool.

So there you go. George Michael and skinny-dipping at the QVB as part of the same dream.

Occasional Subscription

So I was walking down to the local shop to get my weekly paper when I thought about the whole subscription business and how it could be improved in a number of ways. In my mind, it melded together with the concept of a TravelTen.

For those not familiar with a TravelTen, it is a card that a commuter can buy for ten trips of a pre-determined length on a bus or a ferry. Buying the card gives the commuter a discount compared with buying ten trips separately and also makes it more convenient when boarding the bus as they just need to dip the TravelTen into the machine, which deducts one trip from their balance each time. Just like a debit card, actually, but with a fixed amount.

There are three main problems with the subscriptions business; threat of people stealing the paper/mag, missing out on special gifts and needing to organise a hiatus if you happen to be away or are just swamped by so much reading material that you cannot possibly find time to read the magazine this week.

But there are many benefits for a publishing house to have subscribers - the publisher knows they have a steady readership and can usually monitor the demographics of this readership to tailor suitable content and in turn 'sell' the readership to advertisers to ensure the publication's survival.

What I propose is a subscription card accepted by newsagencies and other places where magazines are sold whereby subscribers pay for a subscription to a magazine and every time they collect the publication from a store, they scan the card to deduct the number of issues left in the subscription. The card can be sold at a discount to reward prepayment and commitment, just like most subscriptions are now.

For the subscriber, this means:

• never having to risk having a paper/mag stolen (the reason I don't have a newspaper subscription);


• being able to get those 'free gifts' that often come with publications that don't get sent in the mail;


• collecting your paper/mag whenever you want (ie not in the mail but at the newsagency on your way home from work so you don't have to read mX on the train);


• not having to stop your subscription if you go on holidays; and


• fostering a good community relationship with the publication sellers

For the publisher, this means:

• retaining prepayment and commitment to the magazine for a given period;


• not paying for postage or dealing with mailhouses; and


• being able to track your subscribers' pick-up habits (e.g. where they picked up their issue, whether they missed an issue etc)

Some additional features to consider:

• having a particular expiry date e.g. for a monthly magazine, publishers might want to say the subscriber must collect 12 issues within an 18 month period to ensure they have turnover;


• loading more than one subscription onto one card so everything can be paid for in one transaction;


• sellers' commission for stocking the paper/mag and handling the card; and


• gifts that let the recipient choose the publication and/or a longer expiry date so that the publisher can see which issues appeal to the recipient

Somebody do this so I can reap the benefits of a cheaper subscription without having to wake up at the crack of dawn to get my paper (with the alternative that it gets stolen). And so when all the free CDs and stuff come around I don't have to see my newsagent, which is a suburb away and inevitably runs out of stock anyway. And so we can save petrol on paper men doing the rounds.

The Cat Empire - So Many Nights (gig/album)

The Cat Empire
Metro Theatre, Sydney (14th, 17th October, 2007)

So Many Nights (2007)
By The Cat Empire (EMI)

On first listening to the album So Many Nights, I had moments where I thought "I kinda like that", such as the string/scratch 'turn' on the title track and the rumble behind Harry's vocals on The Darkness but nothing stood out until the soaring emotional pull of The Ocean Takes Us All.

It's always the way, isn't it? You have a band you love and you know all their existing albums off by heart and they have a new collection that you know you should love - but you don't yet. Since I'm of the old school of listening, whereby I will play albums through, and repeat, instead of skipping songs that I don't like to begin with, then I get a thorough aural education when a new album comes out.

Eventually I added Radio Song and Voodoo Cowboy to my favoured list but it took about four listens to discover those. The thing with TCE is that you need to go to a live show to consolidate an album because then you really appreciate the nuances in the music through the energy that the boys inject into the lyrics and their musical relationship.

So my flatmate and I went to two very different gigs at The Metro, Sydney (part of their record-breaking series). The Sunday was the first night of this series so they were fresh, rolling out the new songs with aplomb and mixing it up with a few old favourites. Here I gained an appreciation of Fishies, previous to the gig a 'meh' kind of song but one that carried well to rhythmic movement. Harry nursed an excellent The Darkness that must have lasted about 10 minutes but which deserved to be showcased.

As with all their gigs I've see thus far, it was executed with the kind of enthusiasm and energy that you'd only expect from consuming chemical substances. The wonderful thing about TCE is the interplay between the different band members, and even their ring-ins, The Empire Horns, where no one on stage is left behind. The tangents that come from the songs are a delighful mix of raw and polished talent so rare in popular bands these days.

The second show we went to was on Wednesday, which was touted as 'fan night' featuring a set list voted on by the fans. Before the show, fans could submit questions to be answered sporadically throughout the show. Ross Irwin was in charge of reading out the questions and found most of them to be crap except one of mine, which was 'Which song would you never play live?' (I can't remember what my other question was but I think it was pretty cliche). It was the only question that was answered before the exercise got scrapped and the answer, according to Felix, was "I don't think we've ever played The Wine Song live".

I must beg to differ, Mr Riebel, as I fell in love with The Wine Song during the first TCE gig I ever went to, coincidentally at The Metro about five years ago. I distinctly remember a female singer and Harry acting out the 'run, run, run' part. Prior to that I'd never really noticed it on the album.

Anyway, as the set list was nominated by fans it was of course dominated by older stuff, which was a pity as I quite liked listening to the new stuff in a live context. As I said, it's almost necessary to do so to consolidate an album in mine consciousness. Thus, Wednesday was most definitely Harry's night, with lots of 'Harry' songs and impro interludes, including a 15-minute The Car Song and starring a fan doing the trumpet intro to How to Explain. The night finished with two takes of the new single So Many Nights, filmed for the video clip.

The other thing I would like to mention is Felix's sustainability session, which I attended after the Saturday matinee (I didn't go to the show, I just went to the session). Sadly, it was a bit too beginner for me, though I did get to pose the question "If Felix from The Cat Empire can't get The Metro to stop using incandescent light bulbs, what can the rest of us do to change the habits of others?" The answer was a bit philosophical: "Set a good example and don't forget to tell people why you do what you do."

And the other other thing I'd like to mention is the support act, The Bamboos, were fantastic – worth both admissions prices alone. I will definitely try and see them again when they are next in town. Their too cool blend of funk with jazz sensibilities had my feet almost worn out even before TCE mounted the stage. So much rhythm, such a short set...

Gig rating: 9/10
Enjoyment rating: 10/10

Album rating: 7/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10

First Tuesday

I bet on the Melbourne Cup every year, just like millions of Australians. It's an expensive three-and-a-half minutes, let me tell you. This year my outlay was $1/win and $2/place for three horses - Tungsten Strike (led for half the race, then like most early leaders CAME LAST), Sirmione and Eskimo Queen = $9.

I also bought a horse in the office sweep for $5 and pulled Zipping, which is the exact same horse that I got in last year's sweep. AND GUESS WHAT? It came FOURTH. JUST LIKE IT DID LAST YEAR. Fourth is the first loser, you don't get anything but you have the ignominy of knowing that you were pretty close to getting a small prize.

Still, I suppose it's a good thing that the boss took us to lunch at the pub and paid for drinks. That way no one loses. (Anyway, he won the sweep).

Those Muslims again

Christian Democratic Party
GPO Box 141
Sydney 2001
Phone 9114 6674

MEDIA RELEASE
TUESDAY 6 NOVEMBER 2007

CLOSE ISLAMIC SCHOOLS

Macarthur CDP candidate Godwin Goh and CDP Party Leader Reverend the Hon Fred Nile MLC have applauded the efforts of local residents in opposing the construction at Camden of a school for 1,200 Muslim children.

Senior Christian Democratic Party members attended the Monday 5 November meeting at the Falcons Soccer Club where local residents overwhelmingly rejected the plan.

"Muslim schools in Britain and Europe are breeding grounds for anti-Christian and anti-Jewish hate and terrorism," said Godwin Goh. "The safest thing is to have no Muslim schools here.

"The advocates of exclusively Muslim schools want to impose educational apartheid. I am greatly encouraged by the local popular backlash at this attempt to breed Islam in Camden."

The Christian Democratic Party is campaigning for a ten-year moratorium on Muslim immigration and no more mosques.

Reverend Nile concluded: "Instead of opening new Muslim schools we should be closing existing Muslim Schools. The only way to stop Muslim brainwashing is for Muslim children to mix with non-Muslims at school.

"In the Bankstown Municipality, Muslim children will outnumber Christian children in ten years. The problems will be greatly exacerbated if Muslim children and Christian children are kept separate during their formative years. The answer is NO MUSLIM SCHOOLS."

((ENDS))

INTERVIEWS:
Fred Nile 0418 619 731
Godwin Goh 0414 463 138
Media spokesman 0402 558 947

* * * * *

WHOA. Did I miss that scripture class on tolerance or does that not get taught any more? This media release, which I assure you has been faithfully reproduced here UNABRIDGED, is just too outrageous for me to know where to start. I'll do my best starting from the beginning...

"Muslim schools in Britain and Europe are breeding grounds for anti-Christian and anti-Jewish hate and terrorism" - Evidence please! And while I'm here, might I remind Mr Goh that the biggest terrorist concentration in the UK/Europe in the past 50 years did not come from Muslim schools but from the Catholics and the Protestants in Northern Ireland?

"The advocates of exclusively Muslim schools want to impose educational apartheid" - You mean, unlike Christian schools? Or Catholic schools? Or, say, girls' schools or boys' schools? Or Montessori schools? - I mean, their type of education is really different from 'normal' schools...

"The only way to stop Muslim brainwashing is for Muslim children to mix with non-Muslims at school" - The only way to stop the CDP from brainwashing the public about Muslims is to stop issuing ridiculous, offensive and erroneous media releases.

Did the CDP ever stop to think that their hard line stance against Muslim schools and against the religion in general (reduction of Muslim immigration and "no more mosques") could lead to Muslims feeling, well, unwelcome here in Australia? Could it be that frustration from being unable to practice one's religion may push some of the more, shall we say, extreme faithful to lash out at those who curb their freedom? Is it so much of a stretch, then, to say that it is not the Muslim faith itself that incites "anti-Christian hate and terrorism" but the anti-Muslim sentiment peddled so ferociously at one religion by the very Christians who are accusing Muslims of hate?

Hypocrites, these CDP candidates! They are courting self-fuilfilling prophecies through their ignorance. I, for one, hope that the Muslim community has enough sense to speak calmly against this verbal attack and come off the better for it. And quietly go about their faith through whichever education they feels suits their child best and attend their local mosque as they see fit. And I hope we live in a society that remains free enough for them to do so without fear of retribution from an intolerant, uninformed "Christian" "Democratic" Party leader who has no right to have the title 'Honourable' preceding his name.

You may have noticed that I felt it necessary to print contact details of the perpetrators. Please, if you feel so inclined, tell them what you think.

Playing Hockey

To: Joe Hockey MP
PO Box 1107
North Sydney
NSW 2059

Dear Mr Hockey,

1. Please remove me from your mailing list
2. Have more faith in your State colleagues and let them handle State matters
3. Do not assume that Labor = Unionism = death of society

I have lately had the displeasure of receiving political propaganda in my mailbox dressed in the guise of postal voting information. While I respect your right to advertise your policies, I find it deeply unethical that you should resort to this Trojan Horse method of communication, namely pairing useful, possibly relevant, postal vote information with a missive bearing your letterhead.

I have also received two other letters sent through the postal system, one outlining your plans for Graythwaite and the other, a short biography on your connection to the North Sydney community. I suggest that you leave the matter of Graythwaite to your able State Liberal colleague, MP Jillian Skinner and concentrate on federal issues. Lastly, your biography does nothing to convince me that you are the man for the federal seat – have you considered running for local council?

I do not appreciate receiving mail from you. I assume you accessed my details from the electoral roll. While I would like to exercise my democratic right to vote, I would also like to exercise my democratic right to request that you remove my name and address from your mailing list, immediately. Stop wasting my taxes posting me letters that I do not want to read.

On another note, your first letter specifically targets aspects of your biggest rival, the Labor Party, which you deem unworthy of the public vote. This is your opinion and it in no way reflects my own and nor should it reflect or influence that of a democratically minded public.

Firstly, I am a journalist and member of the Media Entertainment and Arts Alliance (MEAA). I have found my union relevant to my profession and their actions have been more than helpful to me throughout my membership. On the contrary, the Howard Government, a member of which you are currently part, has done nothing but restrict the freedom of the press throughout your tenure. I note, in particular, reducing media diversity through new ownership rules, restrictions to Freedom of Information and the introduction of broad sedition laws under the thin façade of 'anti-terrorism'.

Secondly, I point to the contradiction in your campaigning that states the current irrelevance of the unions in this country. If unions are irrelevant, why should the people of Australia be afraid to have them in government? My union has done far more for me in terms of workplace relations issues than your department has. I am happy to pay my union fees and less happy to pay the portion of my taxes that go to your department.

Lastly, in examining Work Choices and the changes made to workplace relations in the past few years, you have indeed made it easier for businesses to hire more staff, boosting employment and subsequently lowering the unemployment rate. But in doing so you have also eroded job security, which means that while you have fostered the creation of new jobs, you have also made such employment less certain for many others.

Finally, I need not remind you of Justice Catherine Branson's ruling concerning the $30,000 fine to be paid by the Department of Workplace of Relations to the Community and Public Sector Union, for breaking the very laws they are mean to enforce. It's almost like you want us to elect unions to run this country considering the job you're doing.

I could go on, but I won't, I'll just cast my vote on 24 November.

Yours faithfully,
[Dr Witmol]

P.S: One of the first tenets of environmental conservation is 'reduce' e.g. reduce paper usage by choosing other methods of communication. Keep this in mind next time you want to communicate to your electorate.

P.P.S: It saddens me to think that I can't guarantee that you'll read this, care or reply in a manner other than a standard form letter.

Blogging on blogging

I interviewed a certain senior member of the Australian Olympic Committee last week and before the interview I thought I'd just quickly Google him to see if there was anything else I should ask him in addition to the questions I'd already devised.

He was mentioned on one blog bearing this funny illustration that I thought I'd share. The basic context related to an announcement stating that Australian Olympians were forbidden to blog during the 2008 Games, which the blogger and illustrator clearly thought ridiculous.

Into, Out of, The Blue

Well, my previous entry was all about young writers at the TINA festival. I had fun but the social side was a bit sad. I just don't think I'm cut out to hang out with avant garde wordsmiths because I'm just not cool enough.

The opposite happened last week when I went to a conference in Hobart. Not only did men outnumber women 4 to 1 (that's my guesstimate, it might have been more), most of them were quite a bit older than me so I was considered somewhat exotic.

As a result, I had an excellent time down south and, believe it or not, cannot wait for next year's conference! It also meant that I could observe my readership at close range and gather ideas for the next few issues.

The surprise element was getting to know one guy (who I've met before) on a more personal level. I shall call him Fry for reasons only known to my esoteric brain. Prior to the conference I never really appreciated Fry's work talents or social quirks and then suddenly there he was, this brand new person to whom I'd never opened my eyes.

I then spent the evening meeting with a couple of guys on the bow of the pre-dinner cruise ship, fighting the cold wind together. One was from Townsville, thus unaccustomed to the low temperature, and the other one was from Melbourne so perfectly at home with it.

Unfortunately, neither were on my table at the dinner but there was a spot of eye candy sitting across from me, very clean cut, classically handsome and beautifully dressed (I later learned he was one of the keynote speakers for the next day) - ooh caliente!

The next day I ran into Mr Melbourne at the last keynote speech and we exchanged business cards, which was more of a formality than a particular wish to see him again (on my part, anyway) as I was cut by the news that not only did Fry have a girlfriend, she was travelling with him at the conference.

However, waiting at Hobart airport, I ran into Mr Melbourne again. He seemed keen to talk to me (I should add that there were no direct flights back to Sydney; my itinerary read Hobart-Melbourne, Melbourne-Sydney) but we found out we weren't sitting anywhere near each other. I was down the back so I said he should wait until the plane loaded up because there might be seats near me.

The plane took off and then I saw him looking around for me. There was a seat next to me but it took me about five minutes to decide whether I wanted him to come up. As most people who know me personally know, I have a tendency to attract all sorts of freaks on all sorts of transport (did I ever tell you the one about the Elder and Sister of the Latter Day Saints on a plane to NZ?).

Anyway, I figured, it was only an hour's flight so I waved to him and he came up and I chatted to him for an hour. It was nice. Sure, he invited me to go skinny dipping in his front yard the next time I happened to be in Melbourne but apart from that it was all very pleasant and I actually wouldn't mind seeing him again. Too bad about the great distance between us.

Okay then, so just this week gone I spoke to Fry over the phone trying to get some info for the mag from him (a legit call, I was not trying to manufacture anything though the fact that I'm being defensive says something, doesn't it?) and I mentioned that I heard that his girlfriend was the person going around taking all the photos of everyone at the dinner and said that I thought they were just as good as the professional photos. He then said that it wasn't his girlfriend, it was his ex-girlfriend and they were just travelling together.

What am I supposed to think now? I really like him but he's technically a client and I don't know enough about him to know whether I should pursue something or just let things grow organically (or not, as it were). I have, to my misfortune, reached a point of fascination and it has all come out of the blue.

[P.S: I had a feeling that by the end of this entry I would resort to calling myself either hormonal or boy crazy but I've surprisingly been quite measured this last week, so measured, in fact, that I didn't throw myself at Felix Riebl when I went to his sustainability session. Just as well - I found out he has a girlfriend. I like Ryan, anyway.]

Is Not Art, Is Good

The National Young Writers' Festival turns 10! Now embraced by big mama, the This Is Not Art (TINA) festival enjoys five days of debate, inspiration, writing, drawing and pretty much anything else you can do with a writing implement (except that).

SATURDAY
9:05am: I'm waiting for Kid H, my partner on this adventure, at Central Station. I'm on the inside of the barriers because I've just changed trains, having bought a one-way ticket to Newcastle from my home station.

The guards at the gates keep looking at me, half-expecting that I will leave one of my many packages unattended, ready to presume I am a terrorist. I don't usually travel this heavily but it's my first time selling merchandise at the Sunday Fair and I have a box of Palimpsest books to flog while I'm north. Kid H arrives and we walk right up the platform armed with my knowledge that the exit at Newcastle is at the front of the train.

12:29pm: After three hours of chatting and poring over the TINA program, Kid H and I arrive in Newcastle and check into the YHA, my home away from home. I give her a short tour of the hostel and we head off in search of something to eat and a panel to catch.

After a feed at Juicy Beans we find ourselves sitting crosslegged like kindergarteners at the front of a packed house in the Festival Club for the 'You are all going to die' panel, which is more or less about generation-ism. The gist is that the whole generation thing is a bit of a crock cooked up by marketers and that there are more likely to be other things that people have to identify with others - race, gender, religion etc - than age.

2:36pm: A brief respite from the Festival Club sees us hanging around outside in everyone's way. Kid H recognises a couple of familiar faces despite never having been to a TINA festival before, some friends from Adelaide. I'm introduced and they chat briefly. Kid H and I head back in for the next panel, 'Untold Stories', which is okay, if a little wayward. A lot of the speakers didn't really address the notion of the ethics behind writing (or illustrating in the case of Shaun Tan) the unspeakable.

After the session we head out to Civic Park where three wedding parties are having their respective photos taken. I play with a ladybug, trying to get a photograph while Kid H haunts the fountain looking for a good photo op beyond the white satin and taffeta. It gets cold so we head back to the Festival Club and grab a meal from the Hare Krishna stall out front. The back area is free so we hike up to the stage and plonk down on the cushions, oddly scattered with straw, and chow down.

6:11pm: The 'Mega Mega Launch' begins. It is presented as an awards night where each highly specific award (e.g. Category: "Most graphic version of a novel by F Scott Fitzgerald" Winner: The Great Gatsby: a Graphic Adaptation by Nicki Greenberg) gives writers and artists a chance to say a little about their publication.

The best part is that there is a lucky door raffle and I win a packet of books and zines (including The Great Gatsby and an interesting publication called 'Nerds Gone Wild' which includes the cover line "Complete Guide to LAN Parties: Dos and Don'ts").

7:00pm: Regretfully we leave the 'Mega Mega Launch' and scoot across the road to the TPI building where Marcus Westbury debuts his doco 'Not Quite Art'. He's a bit nervous and makes a lot of self-deprecating remarks to the point where the audience interrupts his introduction by yelling "just play it!"

The doco is an engaging look at places where art has come from the ashes of a downbeat town. Westbury looks at Glasgow (UK) and ponders whether the same could happen in Newcastle (Aus) given a good run of bureacratic licence. He also heads to Melbourne where the laneways, full of cafes, wine bars and/or graffiti are better known for their artistic and cultural value than the $500 million Federation Square. He also touches on arts funding, which he tackles in the (as yet unseen) third episode of the three part series.

The Q&A at the end is quite interesting, turning into a discussion about why such a large proportion of funding goes to 'high' arts like opera and theatre and orchestras while the rest of us (writers, artists and musicians) have to scrabble for the rest. Westbury says he doesn't know what to do about it but hopes that the doco reaches the kind of people who can bring that question to prominence so something can be done about it.

8:48pm: We head back to the YHA. Kid H tucks in for the night while I head down to the lounge room to eat gummi creatures and read the paper. Instead I end up watching Rush Hour 2 on TV with a bunch of other hostellers, skimming the paper in the ad breaks.


SUNDAY
I basically spend the whole day in Civic Park manning my stall. I've never had a stall before - in previous year's I'd blow a day's wages on other people's wares. This year I have Palimpsest books to sell (just $10 incl postage if anyone wants a copy).

There's a zombie protest ("zombies are people too", "save a cow, eat a brain" etc) and a DJ mixing it up on stage and a lot of people to talk to. For some reason I've been put in the market section, which means my neighbours are a tshirt seller (Tim from Toilet World) and a jewellery stall (Enak). They attract the people. I tend to repel them.

(Later I find out that zine stalls are FREE and market stalls cost $25 and that no one told me about this so I paid $25 and didn't get a good spot. Boo. I hope it was invested into next year's festival.)

Kid H comes by to mind the stall so I get a toilet break and a drinks break and have a wander around the vicinity. Thanks to winning a bunch of zines the night before, I feel compelled to blow $7.80 on a slim book of poetry (the girl wanted $8 but I only had $7.80 in change from buying a bottle of water for Kid H). My buying spree is thus short-lived so I return to my post at my stall.

I contribute to the Bad Writing Pinata of Cathartic Shame and watch the smashing from a distance, sell a total of five books and meet The Quote Generator aka Danielle Freakley in the flesh. Talking to her is a strange experience, especially after reading about her project. It's almost like talking to a media essay but in a real time context. But she buys a book so she must be cool.

Kid H and I eat dinner in the park (Hare Krishna again!) but the Electrofringe act - bleeps and strange electronic noises - is not our type of sound so we head to the YHA to dump some of our stuff and return to the Festival Club for The Night Air, broadcast on Radio National (I only listen to the cricket on Radio National so a TINA show is quite a step away from their general demographic). The show is really good and quite varied, bringing together different aspects of the festival.

I particularly liked Black Lung, who gatecrashed Bravo Child's alloted set (one of them may have been Bravo Child I don't know - he's a poet and I've never actually seen him) and found Toy Death disturbing and amusing. Toy Death used distorted sounds from various toys to make music, including a Darth Vader mask and a talking Barbie. Unfortunately a bunch of people started talking over Vanessa Berry's spoken word so that was a bit disrespectful.

We left before the closing party because we were both tired and probably too old to play with the young 'uns even though I'm only 26 and Kid H is 31.


MONDAY
Kid H leaves early in the morning as she has things to do at home. I check out of the YHA and leave my stuff in day storage and spend the morning wandering up to Nobbys Head soaking in the sunlight and watching dozens of dogs and their owners play on the beach. I realise I miss my dogs at the same time that I acknowledge that neither of them would have had that much fun on the beach, what with the sand and the water...

I rock up to see Ianto Ware present 'Zinevolution' at the Festival Lounge but a note on the door informs the waiting crowd that he is absent due to a hangover. Most of us dissipate downstairs to catch 'More than just a Label', a Sound Summit panel, which was better than I thought it would be, but I leave it halfway to take front row for PEN's 'Shooting the Messenger' about censorship.

Three of the panellists - an Australian artist, an Iranian writer and an Afghani poet - have experienced censorship directly while Sarah Maddison from the Australia Institute has many insightful things to say about how Australia sits on a freedom level (the prognosis is not good...). It runs half an hour over its 2pm finish (which is good because it solved the mystery of whether or not I should leg it to try and catch the 2:35pm train or dawdle and catch the 3:20pm train). I leave feeling both discouraged and pensive about Australia's future in this regard.

I tackle the SMH's Giant Crossword on the way home and fail miserably.

Love is everywhere...

... I don't want to bend down and pick it up.

- The Whitlams

The Whitlams & Sydney Symphony Orchestra (gig)

The Whitlams
Sydney Opera House (22nd September, 2007)

Well, hasn't Timmeh come of age? From the Sando in Newtown to the big white house at the end of East Circular Quay, the inner west anthemist took to the stage with good grace and a foul mouth. That's the way, lad...

Anyone familiar with the cheeky, jaunty, quasi-acoustic sound of The Whitlams will find it strange that the boys have made it to the Concert Hall of Sydney's most famous building backed by a full orchestra. After all, aren't they supposed to be bumming around the back of a kombi van or something? Well, frontman Tim Freedman swapped his keyboard for the Opera House's grand piano and gave the job of scoring his songs to no less than nine different composers, which made for a very interesting aural experience indeed.

First and foremost I'd always regarded Freedman as an adept lyricist who occasionally wrote cool jangly piano bits that were well-supported by guitar, bass and drums. This gig more than showcased the flexibility of musical talents that belied his pop/rock persona. Congrats on that front - Timmeh, you got to show off your musicality.

More than that, though, this concert forced me to listen to familiar songs with new ears. 'Keep the Light On' became a grand narrative complete with an earnest and poignant soundtrack while one of my favourite songs, 'You Sound Like Louis Burdett' retained its rollicking good time elements but built to a coda of almost explosive cheer "My friends really are fucked up but they're fun to have around".

Adjunct to that was Timmeh's mood, which was upbeat and jokey, as is his usual way. Sir and I were up in the box seats behind the piano so we saw a lot of the back of Timmeh's head but he was kind enough to acknowledge those of us in difficult seats both directly and with constant swivels, which satisfied Sir (who desperately wants to snog him because in her mind he's still 31 and she's now 27 so it's all good on the age front).

He also started to play 'Fur Elise' on the piano, much to the amusement of the conductor, for the sole reason that he wanted to tell his "non-existent grandchildren" that he "played Beethoven solo in the Concert Hall of the Opera House". It was during jokes like this that I started to wonder whether he'd played them all before, on previous nights. This gig was supposed to be the second show of two concerts (I bought the tickets about four months ago expressly for Sir's birthday) but due to popular demand they put on two extra shows before this one, so it ended up being the last of a four gig run.

I take away a point for Timmeh's rallying political call in Labor's favour (The Whitlams having been named after former Labor Prime Minister Gough Whitlam) because people came for the music, not the politics; even if the audience did agree with him the context didn't sit quite right. Maybe at a music festival but not in the Opera House backed by the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. Don't know why, just feels wrong.

Okay, I take another point away for the none-too-subtle prepared encore too. Encores should be spontaneous but it was clear that it was all expected (a problem caused by the audience as much as musicians). But all in all it was a fun night with good music that hit the heart in all the right places and made me proud to be Straylian.

"Sex is everywhere but nowhere round me" - 'You Sound Like Louis Burdett'

Gig rating: 8/10
Enjoyment rating: 8/10

Day Watch (film)

This Russian gem has been a long time coming for Australian audiences. It showed at the closing night of the Sydney Film Festival earlier this year but tickets were hard to come by (and expensive) so I didn't make it. Fortunately, my membership to FBi allowed me to see it before the official release date (supposedly 18 Oct), plus one AND with a free beer! The only drawback was that it was showing at The Chauvel in Paddington.

First, a little about the series. Day Watch is the second in a trilogy, following 2004's Night Watch with the third to come, reportedly called Twilight. The film trilogy is based on the tetralogy of successful books by Sergei Lukyanenko.

Now, Night Watch is a rather scary, violent action fantasy film set in Moscow where Light Others and Dark Others roam the earth. A thousand years ago there was a battle between light and dark until the leaders realised that the sides were evenly matched so they formed an uneasy truce. The film is basically about how each side tries to gain the upper hand through plenty of grey areas.

Day Watch, on the other hand, still has a fair bit of action in a fantasy setting, but it is less violent than its predecessor and it is also incredibly funny throughout. I'm not sure whether the comedic elements meant that the filmmakers took this film less seriously, but it is quite a different film from Night Watch, despite containing a familiar setting and familiar characters.

Having been introduced to the main characters in the previous film, it is to the film's credit that it manages to reveal aspects of the characters that were previously absent, giving the protagonists - Anton, Svetlana, Olga and Yegor - greater depth.

Konstantin Khabensky does very well as Anton, playing an almost anti-hero role at some parts. He portrays an ordinary guy with ordinary human feelings - protecting his son while feeling inadequate next to his all-powerful main squeeze (Svetlana), getting hot-headed - bordering on petulant - about his situation but being able to use his skills to the best end possible. Anton is the greyest Other in the film, a complexity that makes his plight more interesting.

Another character that gets good air time is Kostya's father (we never learn his actual name), Anton's vampire neighbour. Kostya has just attained a licence to kill (previously he lived off animal blood) but his father is scared that once Kostya has had a taste for human blood there will be no stopping him from continuing to kill. Kostya's father makes a deal with Head Dark Dude Zavulon (which sounds more like a brand of Russian washing powder the more I say it) that for services rendered, Zavulon will use his powers to turn Kostya human again. This puts Kostya's father in a bit of a bind because he is a law-abiding vampire, which is why he doesn't want Kostya to keep his licence to kill, but to turn Kostya human, he has to do things that break the ancient truce. This grey area is well demonstrated in the film.

Ironically, all this greyness occurs in a riot of colour, the dark nights of Moscow illuminated by flashes of Geser's (Head Light Dude) camera, red red blood, Yegor's birthday party and Anton's bright green satin shirt (above), which he stole off The Parrot, a dark agent sent to track him. It is this palette, the slick special effects and the animated subtitles that make Day Watch a treat to watch.

If you're any way partial to exploring the shades of grey in the good vs evil debate, body swap humour, random but amusing character moments, lots of dark broken by violent colour, children that look Satanic or time travel, this is the movie for you. I realise I haven't given a very good review but it's all so hard to describe. Just see it and you'll understand.

Film rating: 7/10
Enjoyment rating: 9/10

Toenail

There's a hole in my toenail
Dear Liza
Dear Liza
There's a hole in my toenail
Dear Liza - a hole

AND THIS IS WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE

I decided not to gross out casual observers by publishing the image on this post. Directly, anyway. So you can click through to see the remains of my big toenail.

Incidentally, I once made the word "toenails" on the Scrabble board, using all seven letters, gaining me an extra 50 points. I think I scored 87 points just from that word.

I'm sorry I haven't got anything more interesting to blog about. The only interesting thing that has happened to me of late is my renewed interest in Taiko (Japanese) drumming. Mostly because the drummers are really hot. And then they get all sweaty because of the drumming...

An iron won't

About three months ago I dropped an ironing board on my toe. The big toe on my left foot. It was only a little tabletop ironing board from Ikea but it hurt a LOT. I'm surprised I didn't blog about it, considering how much I hate ironing and how that incident might have strengthened my case against ironing. I only do it three or four times a year but I will complain about it loudly for an entire day beforehand.

Anyway.

After swearing profusely and conducting the Ice Compression Elevation technique by hopping ungraciously to the freezer to get a cold pack before propping my foot up for a good 20 minutes (procrastinating as I sat gazing defiantly at the inevitable pile of crumpled clothes), I developed what felt like a bruised toe.

About a week later my nail started to go green. This was cause for alarm and I was very close to going to see a doctor about it but then I looked it up online and apparently bruises do go green and bruises under nails are generally nothing to worry about. So I didn't worry about it. Except that time when I had to go to a dinner event and I had to wear classy shoes so I painted my toenails red.

Which brings me to today's news, which is that the affected area is now black but, even worse, it has started to chip off. This means that I have a FUCKING HOLE in my toenail. It's just gross. And I won't be able to get rid of it until my nail grows out, which could be YEARS. I can't even paint nail polish over it to hide it while I wear sandals all summer. It'll get infected and I'll need to have my toe amputated...

AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGHHHH!

Practice

I just practised for 90 minutes on my violin, the first solid musical workout I've had for ten years. My arms feel buff. My jaw hurts, though.

Tuning is so much easier with an electronic tuner instead of pitch pipes. Pitch pipes change pitch depending on how hard you blow them so how are you supposed to know what the actual pitch is?

Also played with my new bow after Reuben (my old bow) retired balding. The new bow's name is Jarrod. He needs more rosin. Sweet, sweet rosin.

In other news, I bought myself a new mouse for my lappie cos the old one kept cutting out in the middle of important scrolling. And I picked up the Palimpsest books from Kinko's so it's all fame and fortune from here on in. Clearly.

Moonshadow

Sir G and I took the tele-ma-scope up the hill to follow the eclipse d'lune. Within minutes we attracted a jogger who told Sir that she looked 'wonderful'. He then hung around for an uncomfortable amount of time while she pretended he wasn't there. He asked for her number. She refused and continued adjusting her telescope. He jogged onward.

Later, we were joined by a family of three with a teenage son, then a family of four with two toddlers, one of which kept babbling about his 'shark on', which turned out to be the account of his day whereby he went to the beach and had his 'shark [costume] on'. A white and ginger cat slinked around and many a passer-by stopped to gaze up with us.

I don't have a tripod so here's one of the pics I took with my camera perched on the edge of a tub of capsicum dip:



On the way home I irritated Sir by singing Cat Stevens' 'Moonshadow'. Well, just the refrain "Moooonshadow, moonshadow...".

Now

Tea: Yunnan
Chocolate: Lindt's Mint Lindor ball
Sounds: 'So Flute' - St Germain
Thoughts: I really should be writing

Earns his stripes

The Tiger goes down without a fight.

Leonard Cohen Land

I had a dream I went to Newcastle for the This Is Not Art Festival with Sir G and Ass. We were at a park I know well (as it is near the YHA Hostel there) except it had a white wrought iron rollercoaster track around it.

We were at the 'hospital end' and stepped into a lift where the buttons were all (seemingly) random letters. I pressed 'F' and the lift started to move only it turned into a rollercoaster cart. Ass and I were sitting knees to knees with Sir G kind of sitting on Ass' lap with her legs on me. So the cart rolled around the track for a while, going up and back some 'dead ends', until it finally came to rest in front of a dark covered stage with mannequin musicians playing.

We were just about to walk away when I heard a familiar song and turned towards the stage and realised they were playing covers of Leonard Cohen songs. One of the mannequins was definitely dressed in one of those black jackets with the white strips across that looks like ribs, the kind that Gerard Way wears.

Anyway, it was getting dark so we walked up to the hostel with Hugo (old work friend) meeting us partway there. Except I couldn't quite find the hostel and we were afraid that it was full because we hadn't pre-booked. Eventually we found a hole-in-the-wall room, which served as a reception area.

An Asian woman took our details and I asked whether it was okay if we had a four-bed dorm with one male occupant and she said it was okay. I gave her my YHA membership card and she booted out four British backpackers in the room behind the reception and told us that was our room.

There was also a tangent that involved a film being made on the site of some ruins involving the sad life of two brothers who had to bring themselves up because their single father was an abusive alcoholic. The brothers return to the site of their former home to reflect on their father's recent death.

The usual kind of dream. Except for maybe Hugo's appearance, that was a bit random. Might ask him if he's interested in coming up to Newcastle for TINA - never thought of that before!

Opt-out

TO THE MANAGER: DIRECT MARKETING / CATALOGUES DEPARTMENT
OPTUS TELECOMMUNICATIONS



Dear Sir/Madam,

I enclose two items with this letter. The first is an image of my letterbox. The second is the bulk of the contents of my letterbox, collected by me on the evening of Monday 6th August 2007 - not one, but ELEVEN Optus catalogues, which were unceremoniously stuffed in the available space.

I don't think the word 'incensed' quite covers the way I feel.

I make every effort to cut down on my ecological footprint by reducing the amount of resources that I consume. This extends to the small but (usually) effective step of putting a "No Advertising Material" sticker on my letterbox for the purposes of letting you guys, the advertisers, know that there is less demand for paper catalogues. Finding eleven catalogues for products that I do not want shows a complete lack of respect for my lifestyle choice.

Furthermore, this is not the first time this has happened with your catalogue. It occurred about a month ago with the appearance of three catalogues. At the time, my "No Junk Mail" sticker had faded so I printed the less ambiguous "No Advertising Material" sticker, which, as you can see from the image provided, is clear and visible. I did not contact Optus at that time, though considering the current situation I feel that keeping quiet was a mistake on my part.

I remind you that Section 144A of the Protection of the Environment Operations Amendment (Littering) Act 2000 defines ‘advertising material’ as: ‘any paper product (including a leaflet, brochure or magazine), or other material thing, that contains advertising or promotional matter.’

While placing advertising material in a letterbox that clearly expresses "No Advertising Material" is not against the law, it is against the industry Code of Practice as enforced by the Distribution Standards Board. I would expect that Optus contract their direct marketing services to a company that follows this Code of Practice, and I would further expect that the distribution company hire literate people who understand the meaning of "No Advertising Material". If this is not the case, I suggest you change contractors.

Please notify your distribution company of this gross misconduct and unequivocal breach of the Distribution Standards Board's Code of Practice. You should also REDUCE your print run by ten percent if the distributor feels they need to get rid of excess catalogues in this most disrespectful manner. I hope and expect never to pursue this matter with you again.

Yours faithfully,
Dr Witmol

[More or less the letter I wrote to Optus regarding the eleven wretched catalogues in my letterbox, identifying details removed].

Mangosteen

Mangosteens are considered, in some parts of the world, the 'queen' of fruit. (I tend to make lame jokes about this all the time, like if durian is the king of fruit and mangosteen is the queen of fruit then is jackfruit the jack fo fruit?). Those of you who have not had the pleasure of eating a mangosteen, it is somewhat like eating a creamy lychee (those of you who have not eaten lychees should be taken to South East Asia immediately for tropical fruit tasting).

I had lunch with some friends this afternoon and we were talking about the price of fruit and vegies. I mentioned that a friend once bought a mangosteen (a single mangosteen) for $4. For the equivalent price, given today's exchange rate, you could have probably bought about three kilos in Malaysia - handy considering that the bulk of the weight is its skin.

For the record, I love mangosteens. They could very well be my favourite fruit. So I was pleasantly surprised when I visited the fruit markets (to buy apples and tomatoes) and discovered that several stalls actually stocked mangosteens for $9/kg, which I thought was reasonable considering that they aren't grown here. So I bought half a kilo, which is to say, six mangosteens.

I've eaten one already, and it rated okay on the flavour scale, though it was a bit dry. Now my entire weekend has been planned around the times that I will eat the others. This is what happens in the presence of the queen...

Poor kitty

I had a horrible dream about a grey tabby kitten who was incredibly small, small enough to fit inside one of those resealable sandwich bags. The kitten was in the sandwich bag (which had holes punched in it) in a shoulder bag placed beside me on the floor. I was watching some kind of performance below from a balcony or mezzanine position as I played with a rat.

I decided to forego the rat and took the kitten out of the resealable sandwich bag. I let it play on the rails that separated the mezzanine from the performance pit below. As the kitten jumped from the rails into my hands, its (obviously fragile) neck broke and it died. I put it back in the sandwich bag, felt kind of guilty but didn't seem too concerned about it.

Then Mae Mae drew me a pencil sketch of Snape in a cobblestone square hunched over a cauldron. I thought this was impossible as she had never read or seen the Harry Potter series and woke up.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (book)

by JK Rowling (Bloomsbury, 2007)

*** Review of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' (HP7) - NO SPOILERS ***

It would be hard to separate a review of HP7 without launching into at least an overview of the whole series so I hope that you will forgive me that indulgence. In the main I wish to express my opinion on various aspects of the book (and series) to mark the occasion of its existence, at long last, in the literary realm. It is a powerful thing to note that Rowling is one of the most successful authors of all time in the whole world and that millions of readers began reading HP7 on the day it was released.

As a combination of the mystery, coming-of-age and fantasy genre, the Harry Potter series has succeeded admirably in all three. Rowling uses foreshadowing and careful placement of clues to satisfy mystery, the school setting and Harry's adolescence to address coming-of-age and the world of magic for fantasy. I have always believed that mystery provided the narrative drive, coming-of-age the character development and fantasy the means to achieve both creatively.

In HP7, readers of the previous novels will appreciate the resolution of the overarching mystery that has driven the whole series - what will it take to destroy Voldemort? In piecing together the fragments of this mystery, Rowling uses clues from previous books well, some of which may have been guessed in many readers' theories on how the series will end. Along the way, she reveals much about Harry and the people around him that we may have suspected but can't have known, which illuminates the novel's themes and characters to a greater degree than before.

HP7 exercises all of these themes - death, love and loyalty - with amplitude. Death and the acceptance of death is a major part of Harry's quest. We see it in his maturing attitude towards the death of his parents and mentors. That Voldemort is afraid of death and wants to conquer death is important to note. The clash between Harry and Voldemort's attitudes to death form the most dramatic elements of the book and give Harry, as a character, greater depth than we have seen before.

Love is an interesting concept explored in a number of ways. While family, friendship and other relationships remain important, it is Harry's commitment to humanity, his love of the world and his understanding of the concept of the 'greater good', that gives him the most power. All along his mother's love - and her blood in Aunt Petunia - has been protective and it follows that Harry's love can also be protective.

Love also begets a certain kind of loyalty, unseen by Voldemort because he has never known how to love. Voldemort, it must be said, is loyal to no one. However, this remains his greatest weakness as he cannot see how the bonds of loyalty are formed outside of his reign of fear. Readers glimpse several types of loyalty, foremost in Harry's quest as he is accompanied by Hermione and Ron, to whom he has entrusted the secret of the horcruxes, but also in Snape's double-crossing, whose allegiance is satisfactorily resolved by the end of the novel. In the Death Eater camp, Bellatrix's unrequited love for serving Voldemort shows a strange kind of loyalty while the Malfoys choose the bond of family over Voldemort as master. Lastly, Harry proves himself to be 'Dumbledore's man through and through' and it is this loyatly and trust that leads him to the right places at the right time.

Character development is unusually stunted in this book. We certainly gain a better understanding of Harry's maturation but there's nothing new to his personality as much of what happens is expected because of previous indications. Similarly, other well-developed characters don't change much at all. It is up to a few of the main but not major characters to tackle the burden of character development in HP7. Thankfully, I can say that the gradual build up of the importance of Snape over the entire series pays off well for Rowling, as does the ascent of Neville and the role of Kreacher.

Most of the main characters get to have their moment in the spotlight - often a tear-wrenching scene that I would tend to describe with words such as 'redeeming', 'heartbreaking' or 'touching'. The most significant aspect of character to observe throughout the book - and indeed, the series - is the loyalty that any one character has or does not have to another. This is played out to great effect in HP7, causing readers to understand the power of past relationships.

Much of the plot revolves around the capture and escape of the trio (Harry, Ron, Hermione) and it is this method that maintains the necessary tension throughout the book. However, the use of episodes like this gets rather boring, mostly because readers learn to expect their heroes to survive (although there are, admittedly, quite a number of casualties in their escapades). The important thing to note here is not whether they will survive but how? and for what gain? which pushes the sometimes clumsy coincidences out of the way and lets the reader focus on the mystery element of the series.

Some of the exposition is lazy and, well, too exposition-y. The discovery of the meaning of the deathly hallows is handled awkwardly but sufficiently, while episodes involving Snape and Dumbledore are just downright insulting to intelligent readers who would have picked up the same amount of information with either different or more scattered clues and less chunky explanations. The better part of these expositions is the emotional poignancy of them and I can only hope that that was Rowling's main intention over plot development.

Speaking of which, Rowling's decisions, with regard to her writing, haven't changed. It is not a flowery turn of phrase that attracts readers to the Potter series, but the narrative strength that pulls the series along. This is not to say that Rowling writes badly - in fact, her prose is clean and easy to understand, making the world she creates clearer in the reader's mind. But it does means that Rowling has (rightfully, I personally admit) sacrificed more sophisticated use of language for a more compelling plot. This does not change for HP7, which makes the book as accessible to younger readers as each of its predecessors despite the increasing complexity of the themes.

Despite Rowling's linguistic sacrifices, her command of her own fantasy language is undoubtedly excellent, from the sly use of meaningful names to spells with varying origins - plenty of Latin, a dose of Aramaic (Avada Kedavra) and a fleck of French. Linguistic examination of names and spells assist the lost reader in understanding Rowling's world a lot better.

Rowling uses plenty of easy descriptions using a combination of stock adverbs and adjectives but the best part is that she retains her sense of humour throughout the increasingly dark series. In HP7, I spent two minutes laughing out loud at the departure from Privet Drive in Chapter Four (despite a personal quest to devour the book as soon as possible) and some of the little things - such as a well-placed comment by a character (Fred, George, Ron and Luna in particular) - allowed a laugh to escape even when Harry was in the thick of things. This is a mark of excellent pace and timing, but also displays how an intimate understanding of the characters can reward readers, relationships we have forged over the ten years since the first book was published.

Personally, I applaud mystery writers (as I've always admired their cleverness), bow to young adult fiction authors (as they are the most important guardians of literature) and pay my respect to fantasy novelists (as to create a world where there was none echoes divinity itself). The fact that Rowling achieves the status of all three with barely a stumble is a remarkable achievement. I'm sad to see the end of the Harry Potter series but the end was compulsory for the series to remain healthy and I can't pretend that I'm not relieved to know Harry's fate.

Well, we've come to the end of the story of the Boy Who Lived or The Chosen One or whatever he's called now and I must compliment Rowling on quite a tidy resolution to a series known for its many loose ends. Most readers, I believe, will be satisfied with how things end and the journey Rowling takes us on to get there, so cheers JK and thanks for the ride!

Book rating: 7/10 - need to invest readership in the series, some clumsiness
Enjoyment rating: 10/10 - a gamut of emotions but most tellingly relief, satisfaction and the desire to read it over and over again

One sleep to go...

... until 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows' comes out.

This is more exciting than all Christmases, all New Years and the release of the Lord of the Rings: Return of the King movie put together. I spent all last night going over various plot points with my flatmate (who has great retention of the books, unlike me as I need to read them over and over to pick up various things that I may have missed the first time around). Then I read the wiki on HP7 and started shouting out little bits from the "Unresolved plot elements" and "Hints from Rowling" to her. (These will probably disappear once the book has been released and the wiki changes but what the hey).

Tomorrow morning at 4am I will be waiting under the big clock at Central Station dressed as a witch with a chopstick as a wand - waiting for hundreds of witches and wizards to flood the station with an unstoppable buzz of excitement. Just one more sleep...

Faceless

Some time ago I had a rant about selling my soul to Myspace. Well, I've decided to delete my Myspace account because it is useless to me. On top of that, disregarding the incredible pressure from many of my peers, I've also decided not to bother with Facebook. This blog is as public as I get. Anyone who knows me will recognise my pic in the corner and my textual fingerprints.

P.S: Thought this was kind of funny:

Come again?

I asked my ex-MD if they were willing to pay for my counselling sessions in light of being the cause of my recent mindfuck (though not in those words). This is part of what I received in return:

"Unfortunately, as you point out, business does interfere and I regret to inform you that the current circumstances of the company will not enable [RA] to make any appropriations that do not relate directly to the long-term viability of the organisation."

My friends, this is why business is fucked - the language of business is inefficient and prolix. If they spent less time trying to hide what they mean to say under piles of managerspeak and weak platitudes and just said what they actually meant, then maybe I'd still have a job. (Or maybe not - I might have left...). Let's try that one again:

"Unfortunately we cannot reimburse your requested expense as it does not directly relate to the functioning of the company."

Simple, polite and to the point.

Live Earth Sydney (gig)

Live Earth
Aussie Stadium, Moore Park (7th July, 2007)

People were already in throngs at the front gate to Aussie Stadium when I rocked up at 11am. I'd walked from Central Station, eschewing the complimentary bus because I needed the exercise, having guessed that sitting for hours needed some form of pre-emptive antidote. My ticket was for a seat in F row, fairly near the fence that divided the rear mosh from the grandstand. The front mosh was already packed with an audience who had embraced the unseasonably warm day (complete with clear blue sky), denying winter by dressing in skimpy tops and t-shirts and already spilling beer over the revellers in front in an attempt to dance to low level filler music pumping from the speakers.

Blue King Brown kicked things off not long afterwards with their perfect blend of groovy blues with an indigenous touch. This is a band that you really need to see live to appreciate. I saw them at the Newtown Festival last year, where they added some punch to a mellow afternoon in the park. The indigenous politic bookending the set was a little heavy-handed, though not wholly unwelcome. Still, I thought they could have been a bit more explicit about how recognising Aboriginal land rights complemented the 'saving the earth' philosophy behind the gig. (I knew but I doubt many others would have - but we'll get to that a little later).

Toni Collette and The Finish came up next but, I think, suffered a bit from lack of enthusiasm. Having not established themselves in the music scene, they could only muster half-hearted jostling. I, and many others, were content to observe the crowd and converse. My companion, who had managed to arrive in one piece, had finally appeared beside me. Toni possessed quite a distinctive voice but I didn't find it powerful enough to command the crowd, who were content to chatter over the alt-country songs offered by the set.

Sneaky Sound System were another story altogether. I knew this band had gained a footing in the public conscience over the past year or so (they were 'cult' about two years ago) but nothing prepared me for the energy that surged through the audience when their megawatt beats began to electrify the crowd. Everyone, it seemed, felt instantly compelled to get up and dance. Kudos to addictive hooks in the DJing and Connie Mason's big voice, reminiscent of the kind of reverence Shirley Bassey once received. On this set alone I went and purchased their album (I don't usually listen to dance) and floated the idea that they would have served the crowd better nearer to the top of the billing.

Ghostwriters is a band principally made up of Rob Hirst (ex Midnight Oil) and Rick Grossman (ex Hoodoo Gurus) with a pastiche of other musicians joining them over the years. They still fly under the radar considering their rock pedigree, which would account for most of the stadium bobbing mildly to songs that hit the mark environmentally but didn't quite inspire us as they had hoped. Nothing spectacular or notable sprang from their set so I'll leave them their rock dreams without my opinion.

Paul Kelly, stalwart of the folk rock scene, fared much better. More punters recognised his songs, some singing along to 'From little things big things grow' (one of my favourite Paul Kelly songs) with guest vocalists such as Missy Higgins and John Butler who were to appear later in the show. By this time most of us were getting into the swing of things. It was no longer a picnic in the park kind of festival but an event of global proportions - literally and environmentally.

Eskimo Joe have slipped on the billing recently, surprising considering their successful 2006 album 'Black Fingernails, Red Wine', but the Fremantle band still delivered a nicely composed set, vocalist Kavyen Temperly's voice seducing the stadium, who had built excitement to feverish levels. Whether this was brought on by the dusky light or music that the crowd was more familiar with (or perhaps a combination of the two) I do not know. The crowd were well and truly warm, even as the air became chilly, such that Eskimo Joe received the first truly rapturous acclamation of the day.

Missy Higgins is an artist who has grown into a performer over the years. No longer the shy, self-effacing singer-songwriter she once was, Missy has since embraced the idea that people love her and want to see her play live. Here, she was confident and playful yet still the down-to-earth artist she has always been. Although her new album 'On a Clear Night' has been received well since its release in April, it was the songs from her debut album 'The Sound of White' that roused the audience the most, inevitably spawning a singalong to the favourites. Missy took this all in good spirit, smiling and enjoying the set. As a high profile vegetarian and environmentalist, her reception was fitting for the event.

The John Butler Trio, a band that most love and admire, continued the good work that Missy Higgins inspired by concreting the environmental message with good music. John Butler has always been an advocate of the environmental movement and probably the closest political musician since Midnight Oil. His straightforward but charismatic approach to climate change (and acknowledgment of indigenous Australians) went over well with the crowd and it was because of the enthusiastic response to his words that I then believed Live Earth to be a worthwhile environmental statement. The crowd paid their respect to both him and the music as he conducted a stadium-wide Mexican wave, which pretty much symbolised how well he commanded the audience.

Wolfmother were another story altogether. I'm not familiar with Wolfmother or their music due to my music listening habits 'in absentia' so all I knew of them was that they are pretty big here and in the USA, they are a rock band and a friend of mine once went out with Myles (the drummer). They received a typical rock band response from the audience, lots of shouting and mosh-worthy moves but not quite up to the same pull as JBT. This was embarrassingly evident with frontman Andrew's posturing and throwbacks to the audience, which were met with little more than a lukewarm reaction. Sorry boys, you haven't yet embedded yourselves into the psyche of Australian culture to earn that kind of adulation. A competent set, though, and the right arena for the rock atmosphere.

Jack Johnson was the only truly international guest on the bill and lived up to expectations admirably, not expecting too much from the crowd but congenially greeting us and getting on with the music. His blend of laidback rootsy pop/rock mellowed a crowd who had spent the day drinking and dancing and was a pleasant way to spend the penultimate set of the festival. I particularly liked 'Gone Going' (which is a Black Eyed Peas song for which he provided guest vocals) and 'Fall Line', which put everyone in a feelgood mood. His contribution on an environmental level didn't seem tokenistic, either, given his well-publicised love of surfing and therefore vested interest in looking after the environment. He seems like a lovely bloke, that Jack.

Crowded House broke up more than a decade ago but in a very public reformation, returned to form at the top of the Live Earth bill. Neil and Tim Finn played as a duet at 2005's Wave Aid and brought tears to many audience members' eyes and here it was no different. Australasian cultural anthems aren't usually delivered more poignantly than this headline set, which saw all voices raised in chorus with Neil's and an accidental blackout near the end marking the moment more dramatically. The crowd listened to the lyrics as they sung, the global message hitting home with poetry like:

There is freedom within, there is freedom without
Trying to catch the deluge in a paper cup
There's a battle ahead, many battles are lost
But you'll never see the end of the road
While you're travelling with me
- 'Don't Dream it's Over'

Solidarity in emotion. Bands can't buy that kind of respect, they have to earn it and for a long time Crowded House have been our touchstone, the little band that could capture a nation. There were a few patient pauses as the band played some of their new material but they knew what would get us going, so the hits rolled out one by one, uniting the thousands who has stayed until the end. Beautifully done.

All right, so that was the music part of the review, which was all in all a pleasant experience, well worth the $99 ticket price (and free transport, mind). I was more than a little disappointed in the so-called environmental side, though, and I'm not sure whether it's to do with the fact that I'm ahead of the enviro game or my impatience in finding out that so many people are so far behind.

To explain - so much of the paraphenalia at the gig was related to the very basic tenets of conservation. I'm talking about CFL light bulbs, water-saving showerheads and reusable shopping bags. Which is all great and helpful and educative. Except that most people should have 'made the switch' about two years ago. What about the next step? Where was the info for those people who were already past stage one? Shame, Live Earth, shame.

To add to that, I heard that the event was supposed to be carbon neutral. Which is, theoretically, terrific. But I do hope it wasn't a tokenistic type of 'carbon neutral' like vowing to plant trees or something, because those in the know understand that that's not necessarily the most effective way to reduce carbon consumption. I wanted to see all sorts of initiatives - reusable cups, for example, less packaging, perhaps, and delicious vegetarian food. All absent. I just can't take an event seriously on an environmental level when these little things were ignored while the other basic things, which have been drilled into us ad nauseum, were peddled endlessly.

The three golden rules of conservation are reduce, reuse and recycle, in that order. At Live Earth, only recycle (in the form of coloured bins) had a presence. Organisers should have made a concerted effort to reduce the amount of waste generated with food packaging and pamphlets (though 'reduce' was partially addressed with the free public transport). 'Reuse' didn't even score a mention beyond reusable shopping bags (which, ironically, most people have too many of nowadays). Okay, rant over, here are the scores:

Gig rating: 7/10
Enjoyment rating: 7/10

Would have benefitted from The Cat Empire on the billing. After all, Felix is one of Al Gore's eco ambassadors. Sadly, the Melbourne band were on tour overseas at the time...