BIRTHDAY #3

Happy Birthday Blog,

Yes, you’re 3 years old now. And mama hopes you have a lovely day darling. But please quit pestering me about “when’s dada coming around? Do you think he’ll bring me a present?” etc etc. Yes, I’m sure he will, but don’t put me in that position, okay? You know what I mean. We’ve talked about this. It’s really quite bratty of you to make it my responsibility to build dada up in your eyes and keep your love for him alive in case he happens to drop by and take you out on a play date and get you hopped up on sugar. Honestly. Can’t you see what an humiliating and soul-destroying exercise that is for me? And don’t start at me about “What did you do to make dada leave?” For all we know, it might be your fault, dearest. Now now, don’t get in a huff. You know the rule. Every time you scowl like that, it’s Gin & Tonic time for mama, and let’s hope we won’t have to revisit what happens when you don’t get it into mama’s hand within 2 minutes... Darling, I’m waiting... Oh, aren’t you good! Mmmm yes, just the bestest kid in the world, you are! Now, get out. Mama’s going to have one of her lie-downs in the dark of her room. Er, where do you think you’re taking that? Leave the gin, dear. Where is your mind today? Honestly, sometimes I think I gave birth to a simpleton! No no, mama wasn’t talking about you, darling. What on earth gave you that idea? Of course mama thinks you’re a genius. Never said any different, did I? Now, I guess it’s time for your present. Well darling, you know what mama says about cheapening the sentiment with constant repetition. But as it’s your birthday, I guess it’s alright to say it, this once - Mama loves you very much. There. Happy now? Okay sweeheart, just wait in the hall by the front door to let your father in if he comes around. Won’t that be fun for you? And please don’t disturb mama for the rest of the day. Have a lovely birthday darling!

Big kisses,

Your loving mother.

I’ve got CONSUMPTION [CULTURAL]

(but mostly TV shows)

And I’ve got it pretty bad. See, the only reason I’m actually blogging tonight is that I appear to have watched every single Gilmore Girls episode yet screened in the US, ditto with The OC [“don’t call it that”]. And while I do still have some L Word Season 3 episodes in reserve, I was so devastated by the one I watched on Friday night that I kinda need some space to grieve. Truly, I had to strangle silent sobs so as not to wake the family, it was so sad. Anyway, basically, I’ve been a glutton and now I’ve run out of distractions.


So now, a LIST OF THINGS I’VE…

I’ve been watching some films that will be appearing in the French Film Festival, and I ighly recommend Little Jerusalem. Also, Lemming is alright, mostly because of Charlotte Gainsbourg’s clothes. Just superb clothes. How Much Do You Love Me is quite dreadful, even with Monica Bellucci in it. You think it's going to be good, but then it just disintegrates into crap. A big load of.

As previously mentioned, I’ve watched a lot of upcoming episodes of The OC, and I will tell you three things:
1. Marissa and Ryan’s love KILLS. PEOPLE. Somewhat.
2. There is a lovely meta-joke involving The Valley, but I am about to ruin it for you so, WARNING! WARNING! Okay, this is what happens: you hear a character on The Valley, which is being watched on a TV by characters on The OC, say “Hey, will I see you at Death Cab tonight?” And then an OC character, hearing this from the TV, says, “Death Cab are on The Valley? Never listening to them again.” DO YOU SEE? Hilarity! [I have actually never listened to Death Cab.]
3. In conclusion, and as Gob Bluth would say, “WOW. He [Ryan] certainly has a type.”

I’ve watched the second season of The Mighty Boosh. Vince is a goth now, and quite the hot property with the fellas. This second series is actually more adventurous. Quite insane, really. But it is in no way an undisciplined wank. NO, IT IS NOT. The best episode, in my opinion, is the one where they need inspiration for a “new sound” to present at a record label meeting in a few hours. Eight cocks figure into it.

I’ve finally watched Crumb. It’s very good, isn’t it. But I really wish he wouldn’t touch women. The way he strokes their shoulders makes me shudder in a way only Woody Allen can. Or so I thought.

I’ve purchased the Arrested Development Season 2 DVD, because it is available to be purchased in that way. So now I am legally able to enjoy it.

I’ve also purchased the I Am Not An Animal DVD, because I got a really bad craving for it, blah blah, had to have it right away, as is my increasingly impatient acquisitive nature with such things, etc. However, putting the title into LimeWire only got me bestiality porn, so it became easier to buy it. Also, it’s a worthy buy. A knob of butter, INDEED. [Mark Andrews rules.]

Last night I saw Damn Arms and Temper Temper at the Northcote Social Club. Temper Temper were a cross between this band and that band, but let’s not say these things about them, because I found them highly pleasing anyway. They had great hair, wore tight jeans, and did it better than so many others. Maybe a little derivative, but definitely not crap. Moving on, Damn Arms may not have enjoyed playing this gig as much as I enjoyed seeing it, but my experience is the one in question here. And I still love them, so there. Kanye West’s album was played in the interval, and I liked the way Damn Arms themed their onstage talk accordingly, for instance, “This next song is about bitches and money”, even, and here’s the kicker, when it wasn’t. I also liked it when they finished playing The Cormorant and said, “That song is TOO FUCKING LONG”, and when they said, “This is our last song, THANK FUCK.”

I hope you all watched/taped Antony’s appearance guest-programming Rage last night. Didn’t I tell you he was a warmly funny man? I’m not saying you doubted me, I’m just pushily making a hollow prior claim. Anyway, wasn’t it lovely? And wasn’t it extra-lovely that our ABC realised that this IS the kind of thing they SHOULD be advertising. People WANT TO KNOW who is guest-programming Rage. It didn’t hurt that you told us, did it, ABC? And perhaps you could even do it every week? (Once this is accomplished, we may even dare to mention the next item on the agenda, that is, “Why not let’s have the artist and song title at the end as well as the beginning of the song, eh?” So that we are not forced to go, “Oi, this is bloody lovely. What is it? Blast, I missed the beginning. Now I’ll have to wait for the name of the next song and then back-track it on the Rage website…” etc etc. Don’t tell me you DON’T do that. Anyways, I know it would be a break with tradition, and one of the things I love about Rage - along with its lack of slap-worthy host and associated competitions, its lovely lengthy-ness, its unfailing all-inclusiveness, which you curse when you seem to come home only to the death metal portion of the night, but it’s OKAY, because what would the death metal lovers do without it? And what would I do without it, were I a death metal lover myself? DIE, probably… Okay, where was I before this digression? Oh yes, here: “I know it would be a break with tradition, and one of the things I love about Rage…” IS THAT IT DOESN’T CHANGE. I love that it seems to have had the same opening and ending credit sequences, the same font in white on the bottom-left corner, since forever. And I really respect this resistance to change or ‘jazz things up’. It’s great. You’re great. Truly, Rage, NEVER CHANGE… EXCEPT for this one teeny tiny thing. I’m not corrupting your vision or anything, I just want to know the name of the song, EVEN if I haven’t been watching it from the start. I know, I’m a horrible person. I feel guilty even asking it of you, but really, even the ABC News is giving updates in the middle of the broadcast to catch people up. OKAY I’M SORRY, that was a terrible example and I am a terrible person. Stay gold, Rage. Keep yourself decent. Don’t go changing for nobody. I love you just the way you are.

I was talking about Antony, wasn’t I? Yes, well, I taped it. And then watched it today with my severely hungover brother. And it was magnificent, especially as my brother kept saying, “Oh my god, what IS this? This is WICK” [an annoying contraction of “wicked” he has been using of late, and which I hate. I don’t even like “wicked”]. My point is, I was frequently able to say things like, “Well Simon, that’s Jimmy Somerville. He’s an important gay man.” And Simon would be like, “How do you know that? Where are you getting this Jimmy Somerville crap from? The band is called Bronski Beat.” And then I would say, “Feel like a glass of water, you poor sick baby?” so as to dodge the question and not have to admit the very shallow basis for this scrappy knowledge, namely, a cover article in Bnews or the Melbourne Star or something from which I recognised Jimmy Somerville’s face, the discussion of which would inevitably lead to admitting to my little brother that this was also my first time hearing anything by Jimmy Somerville, unravelling the whole “me and Antony are like this” (cross fingers to indicate how entwined and complementary and close our tastes, etc, are) thing. Anyways, it was Simon’s first time seeing that amazing Laurie Anderson O Superman clip, so thanks for that. And for introducing both of us to Nina Hagen. She screeched “I love you”, and I decided she was probably Eastern European, but I haven’t checked up on that.


REMINDER:

Six Feet Under returns tomorrow night for its final season, Channel 9, 10:35pm. Lock it in.


AND KEEP A LOOK OUT FOR:

Rash, that documentary about street artists in Melbourne, which is going to be on the ABC some time in April. Do watch it.

Abortion, Corruption & Cops, that documentary about Bertram Wainer, the crusading doctor from that excellent Good Weekend article on illegal abortions. SBS, April 6.


AND FINALLY, HERE’S ME, DICTATING YOUR OPTIONS:

If I had some kind of power over you, I would tell you to spend next weekend like so:

On Friday night, you should go to the Evelyn. Ninetynine is playing, AND, if what I heard on RRR last night is true, you will get a free Unstable Ape Records sampler. And you definitely want one of those. The last one I got had great stuff on it, the greatest of which was Zulya & the Children of the Underground’s No(t) Home. This time around, it’s looking like Yellow Lights by Marissa Nadler will be the thing. I probably won’t be able to get out of work to go on Friday myself, but I’m sending my brother. I want that free CD. Badly. You should get it too. And you should watch Ninetynine. Randomly, I actually know someone in that band now, although I have kept how much I adore them a secret from him. Really wouldn’t do.

On Saturday night, you should go to the Tote for the launch of the DIY Arts Show CD Showcase. It’ll be experimental music by local bands. What could be more fun than that? Some of you will most definitely be attending with me. I have made promises of that kind.

On Sunday afternoon, you should attend the Workers and Communities Solidarity Picnic at the Yarraville Gardens from 1pm. You know why.

Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony

9:03pm
Er, what are you trying to say here? That koalas in footy shorts aren't the best option, aren't really all that capable even, for the job of rescuing insipid child actors? HOW DARE YOU! We wouldn't put them in charge of rescue if they weren't up to it! WHAT AN OUTRAGEOUS IMPUTATION!

9:14pm
Yes, ballerinas and motorcross riders do share a sexual tension as deep as the gender divide. Yes.

9:17pm
Bloody hell, the teams are entering already? Well, that's it. I'm done.

Oh Jens Lekman, what a doll you are.

Honestly. So sweet and lovely. Also, am very much liking how Architecture In Helsinki members keep forming, at least in part, the touring bands of visiting dignitaries.

Some excellent things holding my attention in the last while:

Liars, Drum’s Not Dead

Neko Case, Fox Confessor Brings The Flood

Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Gold Lion (EP)

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah

Cat Power, The Greatest

D.N.A on No New York

The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs and i

Minimum Chips, kitchen tea thankyou

PJ Harvey & John Parish, Dance Hall At Louse Point

Sufjan Stevens, Come On Feel The Illinoise!

Deerhoof, The Runners Four

The Strokes, First Impressions Of Earth

Yep. Anyways, I’m off to see Jens Lekman tonight at the Northcote Social Club. I really hope he plays Pretty Shoes.

We are honoured and shamed, both.

You see, we have worried the Fop with our shoddy blogging. He has sent us an “Are you okay? Are you alive? Don’t you just love Girls Aloud?” email. Admittedly, we received this email almost two weeks ago, which further adds to our shoddiness, but the shame and the honour, you see, were quite powerful and took a great deal of time to work through. The answers, by the way, are “Yes. Yes. And YES!” Also, I must address this “we” business, officially. You may have noticed the lack of Guy in this purportedly plural blog. It is because he has left us. I mean, me. He has moved out, as it were, to another place. Yes, I know, he did this a while ago. But he had done it before, you see, and had come back to me. So I assumed this more recent attempt at autonomy wasn’t permanent. I ignored all the signs. For example, the telephone call querying whether he should really be listed as a Symposiast, all things considered… To which I replied, “What do you mean? Of course you should! It’s not plural without you. It’s our blog.” To which he replied “[silence]”. Or the numerous conversations since then, over a series of months [I am quite thick], in which I referred to it as “our blog”, and he immediately countered, “No Elanor. Your blog.” It only took about fifty goes before I got the message. And now I have. It’s not a disaster. He’s only a bounder in the blog sense, because in the real world sense, nothing has changed. It’s true, we haven’t spoken for a week, but only because he is in America being a literati at the moment. And I know this because a) he told me, when we, eg. spoke, as we do quite frequently, b) he asked me to read his conference paper and give highly valuable and insightful feedback, so he sayed, and c) he messaged me a farewell as he was going to the airport, or quite possibly even as he was boarding the plane! This is how perfectly fine and cosy we are. So please don’t freak out. This is not a bust up. He just doesn’t want to share blog space with me anymore… for some reason. I have no idea what I’m going to do about the “it’s plural because there’s two of us” thing. My lawyer is looking into it. HA!

Everyone all right? Okay. Now, I’m going to do one of those ENORMOUS catch-up posts detailing every thing I have been up to. Don’t groan. You can handle it. Yes, I know this is becoming a habit of mine. And I’m actually quite concerned at how befitting it is to my actual personhood. You see, I’m sure it has been said of me many times, “She’s not consistent, but she is large.” Deal.


Tuesday 14 February

I’m going to start here, because, aside from a mini diversion into celebrating the passage of a bill on Thursday 16 February, Valentine’s Day is where we left off.

In the morning, on the Breakfast Show, these are the slightly off kilter ‘songs of love and devotion’ I played, to get into the Valentine’s spirit:

I Don’t Believe You, The Magnetic Fields
[Why? A perfect start to the morning, I believe, as it begins with the lyric: “So you quote love unquote me…” How darling!]

Girlfriend In A Coma, The Smiths
[Why? Obvious.]

Nothing Better, The Postal Service
[Why? This: “I feel I must interject here / You’re getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself / with these revisions / and gaps in history / So let me help you remember / I’ve made charts and graphs that should finally make it clear / I’ve prepared a lecture / on why I have to leave…”]

Single Again, The Fiery Furnaces
[Why? This: “He beat me he banged me / was sure he would hang me / and I wish I was single again…”]

My Imaginary Guy, Deanie Parker & The Valadors
[Why? Well, it’s fabulous, old and about the qualities of an imaginary boyfriend. And this: “When I find a man who will treat me right / I’m gonna mess up his mind and, ah, make him mine…”]

These Boots Are Made For Walking, Nancy Sinatra
[Why? Obvious.]

Where Does The Good Go, Tegan & Sara
[Why? They were in town. I like them. Be quiet.]

By Your Side, CocoRosie
[Why? It’s ironic. The WHOLE THING. Devoted housewifey wearing your black eye and baking you apple pie! HA! THAT is how you write a song of devotion! Take that Destiny’s Child…… Sorry sorry. I didn’t mean it! Please, I love you! I was just very disappointed with Cater 2 U…VERY.]

Not sure how smoothly these tunes segued with interviews about whale slaughter, West Papuan refugees and an RU486 rally, but hey, it was Valentine’s Day.

Can’t remember what I did for the rest of the day. Oh yes. I was still working at my 3CR summer job. Gosh, this was a long time ago! Anyway, in the evening, went to see Jarhead with Guy, Leah, Camille and my little brother. It was very romantic! Mmmm, spending Valentine’s with Sarsgaard. Not sick at all to characterise it like that. No, not sick at all. The film was good, I think. Yes, it was. I was to-ing and fro-ing about it a bit. I remember being mightily pissed off at the lame attempt at ‘deepness’ at the end, but my rage was quickly overtaken by a need to bob my head to Jesus Walks. What struck me most about the film was the way it showed how army people watch war movies very differently to, well, normal people. For instance, I had never even considered it possible that people would be whooping and cheering through Apocalypse Now. I mean, WHAT?! It was disturbing. And it also raised the interesting spectre that it’s quite possible that Jarhead itself may one day be co-opted in this fashion. Creepy.


Wednesday 15 February

Went to see Tegan & Sara at the Corner Hotel. Things of note were:

1. They were their own roadies, albeit in the cunning disguise of eye masks and red capes. Doing your own roady work seems to be ‘a thing’, which I will get to much later.

2. Tegan was wearing a Gogol Bordello t-shirt. That is a good thing.

3. They were just as tetchy about a loser fan as everybody else was.

4. Sara is my favourite.

5. Right before they sang Where Does The Good Go [which, if you’ll remember, I played to fit my alterna-Valentine’s Day music theme the day before], they said “This song is for any of you who had a sucky Valentine’s Day / don’t dig Valentine’s Day”, or something to that effect. I found this odd, because they could have said it about any number of their songs, and yet, they said it about exactly the same song as I chose to convey the same deal. Weird. My ideas are common. [Not so weird.]

6. There was a support act from Sydney called Sparkadia, which I realised I would very much like to play very loud while hugging myself, but only in secret. You never read this.


Thursday 16 February

At 3CR, chatted to Nicole who is on the Promotions Collective with me, [yes, we are a collective devoted to promotions. It is very cutting edge], and who does the DIY Arts Show. I was telling her how I’d seen Deerhoof the Friday before and how they were amazing, and how I had enjoyed Tegan & Sara the night before. Nicole is Canadian. And do you know what she said, quite as if it was nothing at all? “Oh yeah? That’s great. I used to do gigs in Toronto with Tegan & Sara back when they were Sara & Tegan. They had a deal you see. They agreed to switch the names after a few years. Oh, and I did a really fun tour with Deerhoof in San Francisco one time. Yep.” LIKE IT WAS NOTHING AT ALL.

Also, as I’ve mentioned, the RU486 bill passed in the House of Reps.


Friday 17 February

Edward from work burnt me The OC, season 3 episodes 1-11. I was wary, because at that point there’d been about 3 episodes on TV and they had SERIOUSLY sucked. But I hope you have stayed true despite that, because from the ‘Marissa enters public school’ episode onwards, it’s fucking BACK. Which is a relief. Keep an eye out for charming nods to 90210's "Let Donna Martin Graduate" campaign [I say 'charming nods', but they're not subtle. Unless Summer wearing a t-shirt that says "Donna Martin" is subtle]. There are also some slight political traces in jokes about 'quagmires' and such. Also, keep an eye out for articles about Love Of Diagrams, because their song No Way Out features on one of the episodes. Do not turn against them. Sure, they’ll get the treatment. But they are actually good. I really dig them, and have played that song many times on community radio that NO-ONE listens to. So they are still okay. OKAY?


Saturday 18 February

Went to the UN Youth Association’s forum on “Gender, Equality and Empowerment” to record Lyn Allison and Hana Assafiri for Women on the Line.


Monday 20 February

Got the all clear for uni, then met up randomly with Jedda at a pedestrian crossing, then went with Guy and Leah for coffee and then went with Leah to see Syriana. It’s good. It won’t blow your mind to a great extent, but it’s well-made and good. There. I am an awesome reviewer.

The rest of the week is pretty much lost to the haze of assembling Women on the Line.


Friday 24 February

Edward from work burnt me Prison Break, season one. DUDES, I LOVE IT. Here are two things you NEED TO KNOW, and which I can’t possibly stop myself from blurting:

1. OH MY GOD. HOLLY VALANCE! Holly Valance has a role in this show. This is EXCELLENT. So keep watching it. WE MUST SUPPORT HER.

2. The show is good TV for a bunch of reasons, but who cares about those. Let’s just talk about my FAVOURITE MOMENT from the entire series. It happens like so:

Michael Scofield is asking this wigga to do him a favour. And, to indicate his answer in the affirmative, [translation: “Yes.”], the wigga responds thusly:

“Does my momma got big breastesses?”

Holy crap, it was brilliant. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined this amazing moment for you by telling you of it in advance, but I just couldn’t stand it. I NEED to be substituting “Does my momma got big breastesses” for “Yes” RIGHT AWAY, and I can’t have people looking at me like I’m crazy. I need it to be ‘a thing’ that ‘makes sense’.


Saturday 25 February

Went to Guy’s going away party. He’s away for two weeks only. However, one would only snigger at and mutter about ‘the ego’ of throwing yourself a party for a mere two-week absence IF the party was bad. But the party was very good, and therefore, perfectly reasonable. During the party, I had two ‘agree to disagree’ conversations. The first involved climate change. Someone, who shall remain nameless for his own protection [Shayne], thinks it is bosh. That is just not so, sir. I conferred with my sister the meteorologist about it, and she says it is very real, and backed up the arguments I had made, and said that only cranks think it’s not real, and only SUPER-cranks think it’s a big conspiracy cooked up by ‘the environment industry’. Let’s hope you recover your senses. The second ‘agree to disagree’ was about Madonna. I said, “I hate Madonna.” And I got looks. And Simon said, tightly, “We will just have to agree to disagree on that.” And Catherine narrowed her eyes at me, and said, “But surely not Hung Up, of course?” And I said, “No of course not. I LOVE Hung Up. I just mean in general.” And then Like A Prayer came on. And they looked at me again. And I said, “Well, obviously not Like A Prayer either. I LOVE Like A Prayer. I just mean in general.” And then Express Yourself was playing, and I got looks again, and I said, “Well, obviously not Express Yourself either. I LOVE Express Yourself. I just mean in general.” And then Vogue came on, and I got looks. And I said, “Well, of course not Vogue. I LOVE Vogue. I just mean in general.” And I began to think that maybe I do love Madonna after all. Let’s hope I recover my senses. There was also an ‘agree to agree, and to agree with gusto’ conversation about taking Sophie Panopoulos DOWN!


Sunday 26 February

My sister arrived for a visit from Darwin, and we were invaded by family, and some friends of the parentals. The girl is engaged, you see. Let’s not go into it. There is family stress.


Monday 27 February

Met up with sister and distressed aunt for bout of shopping. In the evening, went to see Les Savy Fav, The Hold Steady, and Thunderbirds Are Now at the Corner Hotel. It was magnificent. And all the bands were their own roadies here as well. You see how it is ‘a thing’? For some reason I thought Thunderbirds Are Now had a girl in it, but it doesn’t. The guy on the contraption was a great spaz, though. I was most seriously impressed by The Hold Steady. Amazing. From the moment the singer worked up to yelling “We’re gonna start off with a POSITIVE JAM”, I was theirs. There was also some indecipherable and energetically gesticulated off-mic yelling throughout their set, which could have been crowd exhortation or abuse, or simply the lyrics, but who fucking cares? It was all GREAT. Really really GREAT. There was a guitarist who looked like Stephen Merchant, and the singer reminded me of, you know, Philbert the turtle who lives next door to Rocko the kangaroo in Rocko’s Modern Life? He reminded me of him, with his hunched shoulders and geek glasses, except he was not at all repressed like Philbert, and he had this awesome wicked grin. The man is cool. No need to really tell you how cool Les Savy Fav are. But they are. Very. What a great thing this gig was.


Tuesday 28 February

Had classes at uni, blah blah blah. Not important, BECAUSE, in the evening, went to see Broken Social Scene at the Corner Hotel. And it was fucking sublime. I’d been talking to Dave in the lead-up about not really knowing whether I loved these guys, but still being quite certain that seeing them live would be something special. And it so was. And now I listen to the albums again and enjoy them way way more than I used to. I also fell in love with the dude of course. He was Sarsgaard-esque, and warm and nice and lovely and talented. His voice sounded amazing, he talked about having food-poisoning. You know, swoon. Everything was great, but the stand-outs for me were Anthem For A Seventeen Year Old Girl, Bandwitch, Major Label Debut, 7/4 Shoreline, Handjobs For The Holidays with the “huh huh” breathing, Cause=Time, Lover’s Spit, and the one where New Buffalo sang, which I think was Hotel. Also, am I remembering this correctly - did the dude who used to be in Pavement play on the song named Ibi Dreams Of Pavement [A Better Day]? I think he did. Pavement, guesting on Pavement. I like that.


Wednesday 1 March

Went to the Civil Rights Defence forum, “War on terror or reign of terror?” at the Kaleide Theatre to record Julian Burnside, Rob Stary, Terry Hicks, and, via video link, Moazzem Begg. It was fucking great. My recording was a little rough but I’ve been playing it on the Breakfast Show anyway, with Jack Thomas’s gorgeous little girls making child noises beside me and all. A seriously excellent night.

Anyway, got home from the forum and happened to check the TV guide. OH. MY. GOD. THE L WORD SEASON TWO WAS ABOUT TO APPEAR ON ACTUAL TV! Yes, I’ve seen it, but that didn’t stop me from squealing and jumping and rushing to message anyone who might be interested that IT WAS HAPPENING!

Anyway, I tried to find the Cuntiest Photo Ever, that is, John Howard at that podium which said “Strong Direction, Mainstream Values”, but I couldn’t. So just picture that here. And weep. And rage.


Thursday 2 March

Had lunch with mother, sister and brother at the Flower Drum. It was my first time, and maybe I chose badly, because it sucked. The hot and sour soup was like sludge and I had to add so much chili to it, and then my Szechuan Scallops were pretty whatever. Mum had squid with salt and pepper, and that was pretty damn good. But on the whole, disappointed. There were all these business guys having long lunches, and we took to trying to figure out what sinister dealings and plots they were involved in, right under our very noses!

Anyway, had to man a stall at a pre-International Women’s Day event at the Melbourne Town Hall that afternoon. Then I recorded the speakers, who were pretty fucking twat and pointless. The only good one was a young woman from the Karen Women’s Organisation talking about her life and work in the refugee camps along the Thai-Burma border. Other than that, there was a woman who had walked from the edge of Antarctica to the South Pole, but she was more of a tourist than an adventurer, and we were treated to her holiday snaps, and then Catharine Lumby spoke about absolutely nothing, and then Evonne Goolagong Cawley boringly and exhaustively went over her whole career. I have no idea what the point of these speakers was. They were so boring and toothless. Anyway, foul mood descended.


Saturday 4 March

Went to see The Drones and My Disco at the Spanish Club. My Disco were awesome, of course. But like, really really. I was afflicted with a massive headache just before the Drones came on, so that wasn’t good, and I didn’t enjoy it properly. Rather, I sometimes found myself begging them to stop, please, stop. I like the way he throws himself around though. I swear he wasn’t that expressive when I saw them that time at the Forum when they were supporting the Black Keys.


Sunday 5 March

Watched Brazil.


Monday 6 March

Damn, I just realised I have to write my Oscars bit now. Boo. I really thought we were almost done here. Right, if you don’t want the expanded version, this is it in brief:

I was really very happy with the nominees this year but at the same time really really don’t think Crash was the thing - Michelle Williams is now totally my favourite person - ooh yay, there was a Sarsgaard-Gyllenhaal in the audience shot - er, no disrespect to a great girl but, does Dolly Parton look ‘old-lady-anorexic’ to anyone else? – Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin are super gals – I believe it’s time to say goodbye, Queen Latifah - Reese Witherspoon’s speech was overcooked – and I of course love Jon Stewart.

Now to expand, slightly. Jon Stewart, that man is a class above. Because, you see, he actually made a good joke out of Brokeback Mountain. Only the second one ever [the first being Brokeback to the Future, of course. What a display of knowledge! What an eye for detail! What a faultless application of slow-mo!]. See, I’m really quite sick of lame-arse duds simply adding “brokeback mountain” to the end of a sentence and thinking that constitutes a punchline, making what preceded it a joke. This is just not the case. Firstly, Brokeback Mountain isn’t all that funny. Secondly, you’re a dick. But anyway, Stewart’s cowboy movie montage thing was BRILLIANT. And my happiest moment of the night was when the Brokeback score won. About Crash, yeah, it had good moments, like that brutal one with Tony Danza where an astoundingly oppressive set of humiliating power relations were played out simply with the words “Do we have a problem?”, or that violation bit with Thandie Newton, or that ‘oh no, the little girl is dead, and just look at the expression on her father’s face’ bit, but Shayne’s right, the film felt a bit emotionally cheap and wasn’t perfection. And it was up against films that were, so they should have won [I haven’t seen Capote or Munich yet]. That is all.


Wednesday 8 March

Happy International Women’s Day.