The first movie I ever saw in a cinema was 'Poor Little Rich Girl' with Shirley Temple at the long gone Orana Theatre in Wangaratta. NO, it was not when it was originally released but in the mid 60's. You know, even today I still have dreams in which the Orana appears! The foyer featured a real ticket box and a wonderful large tiled mirror over a faux fireplace and mantle. Oh I tell you the first time I walked in there and smelt that musty but enticing movie palace smell I was enchanted. My life of weatherboard and tiles hadn't prepared me for this! And somehow that must be where my love for 'the pictures' started.
I go to the cinema at least once a week which reminds me how much going to the movies has changed over the years.
In Melbourne, the number of cinemas has closed although there might be more cinema screens – the multiplexes have replaced the single screen theatres and some of the theatres have grown remarkable. The Rivoli in Camberwell was a one screener then went to two or three and now has at least six. The Nova in Carlton burst onto the scene in the 80’s and is now bursting at the seams with 17 screens! In the Melbourne CBD in 1976 there were about twenty theatres, now there’s half that, there were some beautiful places such as the Regal and the Mayfair, the Capitol (and the fantastic light display)the Palace and the Forum, out at Malvern there were some lovely ones and there was even the decrepit Valhalla in Richmond and the Fitzroy Teletheatre. You always knew the session times because they were all pretty much the same 11.00, 2.00, 5.00 and 8.00. If you weren’t seeing a double bill generally you got some god awful documentary from the well intentioned Canadian Broadcasting Corporation about the effects of snow on the elder flower or something as riveting, then one or two trailers for ‘upcoming attractions’ and some quick ads from the Val Morgan company. The curtains would close (eerily similar to the way curtains operate at a crematorium I note) hold for a second as the lights came up briefly, the lights would go down and then the main feature commenced. You would NEVER consume your pasty popcorn or your cooling cordial, let alone the chosen choc top before the main feature started.
Today you feel like you’re at a marketing expo. Twenty minutes of ads and trailers then the film. Mostly the movies are 100 minutes of product marketing with a bit of a story thrown in, some CGI to impress and minimal dialogue so that you (and the actors) don’t have to concentrate too much. That casually placed can of soft drink on the kitchen bench top has probably the subject of months of negotiation and manipulation, the pen George Clooney casually pulls out of his jacket to make a note has probably been written into the scene to grab a few extra dollars for the film and a few seconds of exposure for the Swiss manufacturer of said pen. Nothing in films these days is accidental or by the way. And as for the choc top and popcorn, well it’s well and truly gone before the film starts – what’s the point in that?????
I like a good blockbuster but I like a good story better. Take me to another world through the skillful manipulation of words and character development and I’m in dreamland. Give me something better than my imagination or what my subconscious can create in my dreams and I am happy to fork out a few dollars. When Australian filmmakers show that we are among the best and produce yet another gem them I’m in the front row cheering it on. And if every so often I see a moment or two of extraordinary acting and the goosebumps rise then man oh man, that’s what movies are all about.
Cinemas these days are generally more comfortable than the old flea pits, you can melt into the seats, and there are even helpful holders for your overpriced candy bar post mix beverage, occasionally a bench to pop your purchases upon.
So there in the dark every weekend I go to a happy place, even when watching a tragedy or groping for my tissues. I see something like ‘Burning Man’ and weep, play with the grownups with ‘Barney’s Version’, am transported with laughter in ‘Midnight in Paris’ or sit on the edge of my seat watching ‘Salt’ and thank God for giving the talent and the inspiration to the original movie makers. Whether they were playing in Paris or becoming moguls in Hollywood, breaking new ground in Ealing or putting together Salvation Army propaganda in Melbourne they have given all of us something simply magical.
Sometimes those on the screen have stepped down to meet me (and no I’m not having a ‘Purple Rose of Cairo’ moment). I ran through the Southern Cross Hotel carpark to kiss the cheeks of Marlene Dietrich, wondered if Rex Harrison was going to negotiate the step from the footpath to the road, helped dress Frank Thring, watched Trevor Howard NOT negotiate a footpath and felt a little weak in the knees talking to Claudette Colbert.
From the Orana theatre to cinemas in London, Munich, Mariestad, Sydney, Brisbane, Hobart and Melbourne it has lifted my life and just reminded me every time how blessed I am.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Friendship - Tricky One
Over recent weeks I’ve had reason to reflect on friendship. I have very deep feelings about friends and I guess expectations around that. Sometimes I end up in a difficult position and am weighed down emotionally by the way I feel or react to what others do or how they behave towards me. Anyway maybe that’s all for another time/post.
Coincidentally, I was reading a book about friendship set amidst very challenging circumstances for the people involved. The book is called “Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad”, published by Penguin.
Bee Rowlatt works for the BBC in London and wants to interview a woman in Iraq to get a firsthand account of life in Baghdad post the US Invasion. She makes contact with May Witwit an English Literature lecturer at Baghdad University and through a series of emails over a couple of years we see how a random contact grows into a deep friendship where the two women share very private thoughts and feelings, survive challenges and the ebb and flow of their daily lives. Eventually Bee works to bring May and her partner out of the strife torn and war ravaged mire that is Iraq and into the refined atmosphere of London. This part of the journey is no less worrying than much of May’s life in Iraq.
While Bee struggles with the anxiety of her husband being off working as a correspondent for the BBC, or the decision to have another child, raising two other children, the vagaries of the weather in London or the cost of living, May has to work out how to make the weekly dash to the one shop that is open in her neighbourhood before stock runs out whilst dodging snipers or stepping around a corpse or six. Her family (apart from her mum) has disowned her because her husband is a Sunni and they are Shiites (or the other way around) and she finds she is on a ‘hit list’ of academics which sees many of her work colleagues being killed with terrifying regularity. There is a special kind of hell that has manifested since the ‘liberation’ of Iraq and the passing of the ‘old man’ (Saddam). One interesting story in the book is of her face to face meeting with Saddam (apparently you could call and speak to him directly if you had an issue to be addressed).
This is a beautiful book that takes the reader to a world we cannot imagine and one that shouldn’t be tolerated. It reminds us of the benefits of strong friendships based on caring and consideration whilst a homeland is being torn to pieces by people who think they know what is best for the people and yet everyday clearly demonstrate their ignorance.
I have to confess that at times May’s commentary about not coping or wanting to end it all made me flinch and insensitively want her whinging to stop. Shame on me, I would not be able to survive a week in what she was living through let alone day after day after day. Hers is just one story which is well told and when I think ‘we did this’ I am more ashamed.
Reading this book will reward you in many ways, I unreservedly commend it to you.
Coincidentally, I was reading a book about friendship set amidst very challenging circumstances for the people involved. The book is called “Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad”, published by Penguin.
Bee Rowlatt works for the BBC in London and wants to interview a woman in Iraq to get a firsthand account of life in Baghdad post the US Invasion. She makes contact with May Witwit an English Literature lecturer at Baghdad University and through a series of emails over a couple of years we see how a random contact grows into a deep friendship where the two women share very private thoughts and feelings, survive challenges and the ebb and flow of their daily lives. Eventually Bee works to bring May and her partner out of the strife torn and war ravaged mire that is Iraq and into the refined atmosphere of London. This part of the journey is no less worrying than much of May’s life in Iraq.
This is a beautiful book that takes the reader to a world we cannot imagine and one that shouldn’t be tolerated. It reminds us of the benefits of strong friendships based on caring and consideration whilst a homeland is being torn to pieces by people who think they know what is best for the people and yet everyday clearly demonstrate their ignorance.
I have to confess that at times May’s commentary about not coping or wanting to end it all made me flinch and insensitively want her whinging to stop. Shame on me, I would not be able to survive a week in what she was living through let alone day after day after day. Hers is just one story which is well told and when I think ‘we did this’ I am more ashamed.
Reading this book will reward you in many ways, I unreservedly commend it to you.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
We Have to Find A Better Way
Last week ended with me feeling very sad about the world and what had happened in an ugly 24 hours.
We awoke on Friday morning to the news of the killing of Libya’s Colonel Gaddafi. I have to say I am not at all unhappy that he was overthrown and unable to inflict heartache on his people anymore. The last few months have been particularly ghastly and the actions of the fool who called himself ‘father’ were frightening to hear about. His time was up and the clock ticked ever faster towards October 20th 2011. What I am horrified and sickened by is the manner of his death and the unseemly glee that attended that.
There is a (natural) temptation to talk about ‘those who live by the sword die by the sword’ in situations like this or ‘he was such a murderous bastard he got his just desserts’ etc. I wonder how that sort of thinking advances us as humans though. I wonder if that was the way we responded to all tyrannies if we would simply replace one form of tyranny with another – the sword replaced by the sword if you will. We can never make decisions about justice based on anger or hatred, that’s what justice, actually is – identifying a wrong and fixing it in a manner that comes from reasoned thought and the evaluation of all material/evidence relating to it. To decry someone as brutal or a butcher only to then humiliate and brutalise him before summarily slaughtering him is not justice, it is revenge and it is hateful and it is inhumane. And I don’t care who it is or why it happens, it is not right and does not advance us as a species. You cannot say someone is a tyrant and then act tyrannically.
My point is we must always be better than our first instinct. We must always be better than our revenge gene. We must always be better than our hatred and we must always, always be better than the person we are getting rid of.
The killing of Gaddafi means the people of Libya now never get to see him answer for his behaviour, to respond to the evidence which would no doubt have been put to him, to tell us if he was the one who ordered the Lockerbie crash, to justify killing his own people or to shed light on his relationship with the rest of the world.
I hope his end acts as a warning to the creep that runs Syria and the vile creature who rules Zimbabwe and causes the leaders of China, Korea, Saudi Arabia, Somalia and Yemen to reflect on what direction they want to take.
In the same way Bin Laden’s murder smells to high heaven but has been swept away because the US really can’t afford that to be questioned (in the same way they really couldn’t afford to have him in court – too many secrets) this killing is a cold hearted, savage and brutal taking of another human being’s life. And we all are diminished by this act.
And that’s way, way before we think about the body being put on display for three days in a cold store.
Meanwhile in Melbourne a couple of hundred (maybe)peaceful protestors we man handled and dragged out of the City Square by a dragoon of 400 or more police, including riot squad, horses and dogs. This despite no evidence of a violent intent and no suggestion of any inconvenience being caused apart from the complaints of a few businesses ( the irony of businesses complaining about the loss of income due to a protest about corporate greed is somewhat delicious).
There are around 900 ‘occupy New York’ type protests currently around the world. Four of these have so far been dispersed. To think that Melbourne would be one of those is shameful and frankly embarrassing.
I have no doubt that the Nero like Lord Mayor ordered the protest broken up (‘or dealt with’) for no reasons of philosophy, politics or right but because he thought it was dirty and unsightly, there was a planned private school function at the Town Hall (Mr Doyle has long had associations with private schools) and he was under considerable pressure from businesses. To then accuse protestors of arrogance is the height of, well arrogance. At last he shows his true colors.
Police, my police, are here to protect me from physical harm and to uphold the law. No one was under physical threat on Friday UNTIL the police arrived. The question of whether the protestors had a ‘right’ to be in the City Square and whether that had committed to moving on is interesting but something that could be resolved by asking a group of the protestors to have a chat and talk through the best ways to disperse. The word over-reaction doesn’t come close to how the story played out. Fences were erected to corral the campers, people were singled out and then dragged out, punches were thrown, horses were stormed in and it was on for young and old. Insults were thrown as strongly as fists and little boys and girls reverted to their immature and base selves to exert their might. This was true; I have no doubt of all sides. Meanwhile the Emperor looked down from his Town Hall eyrie.
A couple of questions I have been pondering – the riot squad were there; at what point was a decision made that things might turn in such a way that the riot squad would be ‘required’, similarly with the number of horses and dogs? I have seen any number of (often large) demonstrations in the last few years – the anti Iraq invasion, anti carbon tax, Falun Gong injustice, Work Choices, free detainees etc- and I have never seen this sort of ‘anti force’ presence. What was the evidence or intelligence that the decisions makers drew on to say these divisions would be employed? There was also obviously a fair number of plain clothes people with their cameras firing away (ah ASIO come back, all is forgiven), presumably in anticipation of any legal disputation. You have to suspect an agenda was being served by someone.
Peter Ryan described the police action as ‘magnificent’, the Premier has congratulated them and the Lord Mayor is almost beside himself with joy for what took place. And all for what? A piece of land in the centre of Melbourne where some well meaning and open hearted people gave up the comforts of home (and yes maybe their deodorant – ho hum so did the might Roman warriors and our ‘boys’ in the two world wars)to commit to a cause they believe in. In these days of banality and ennui, where most people can’t even be bothered having a conversation, I say thank god for them. And shame on anyone who tries to smash that.
Here we are then, another example where we have to be better than this. We have to be able to have strong exchanges of thought and ideas in a community so that we advance democracy if that’s what we feel is important. We have to constantly question capitalism and who has the power in the world and if that benefits everyone. We can’t applaud the rise of free speech in countries such as Libya, Egypt, Algiers etc and then say it’s fine in this country ‘as long as...’ We have to be better than that and it’s not up to our police force to be thugs and to be at the beck and call of disingenuous politicians with questionable motives.
So from these two events, seemingly disparate but to me obviously linked, there is a loud message for our powerful.
Over the last year or so we have seen minority governments in Australia, Britain and Belgium with other election results which came out of nowhere and unexpected. This year, this extraordinary year, we have seen the Arab Spring (surely it must now be at least autumn) where people have literally risked, and some (far too many) have lost, their lives. Many who have been silent for all their lives have found their voices and their courage and have taken to the streets to ask for change. This is change for themselves, their lives and their fellow citizens because the way they have been living, the way they have been governed and led is no longer the way they want to be living.
This new thinking is a clarion call to governments, decision makers, business leaders and politicians everywhere.
The concern for me is that I don’t know that they are listening. The government in this country seems to lack direction and you only have to watch question time in Parliament to want to shout ‘have you learnt nothing from the election result’. It is disheartening.
When you don’t listen to what a group of people are saying in Melbourne’s City Square you are also not listening to the people of New York, Rome, Sofia, Istanbul, London and Moscow. That is a lot of wisdom and that is a lot of people, people who vote and shape governments and might be future politicians or writers or in positions where they can influence opinion and thought for future generations.
We can be better and we must be. It is 2011 for heaven’s sake and it is what we are meant to be, we are the people who have been given the privilege of being here and shaping the present in preparation for the future.
How can we blow that just because we aren’t prepared to be ‘better’?
We awoke on Friday morning to the news of the killing of Libya’s Colonel Gaddafi. I have to say I am not at all unhappy that he was overthrown and unable to inflict heartache on his people anymore. The last few months have been particularly ghastly and the actions of the fool who called himself ‘father’ were frightening to hear about. His time was up and the clock ticked ever faster towards October 20th 2011. What I am horrified and sickened by is the manner of his death and the unseemly glee that attended that.
There is a (natural) temptation to talk about ‘those who live by the sword die by the sword’ in situations like this or ‘he was such a murderous bastard he got his just desserts’ etc. I wonder how that sort of thinking advances us as humans though. I wonder if that was the way we responded to all tyrannies if we would simply replace one form of tyranny with another – the sword replaced by the sword if you will. We can never make decisions about justice based on anger or hatred, that’s what justice, actually is – identifying a wrong and fixing it in a manner that comes from reasoned thought and the evaluation of all material/evidence relating to it. To decry someone as brutal or a butcher only to then humiliate and brutalise him before summarily slaughtering him is not justice, it is revenge and it is hateful and it is inhumane. And I don’t care who it is or why it happens, it is not right and does not advance us as a species. You cannot say someone is a tyrant and then act tyrannically.
My point is we must always be better than our first instinct. We must always be better than our revenge gene. We must always be better than our hatred and we must always, always be better than the person we are getting rid of.
The killing of Gaddafi means the people of Libya now never get to see him answer for his behaviour, to respond to the evidence which would no doubt have been put to him, to tell us if he was the one who ordered the Lockerbie crash, to justify killing his own people or to shed light on his relationship with the rest of the world.
I hope his end acts as a warning to the creep that runs Syria and the vile creature who rules Zimbabwe and causes the leaders of China, Korea, Saudi Arabia, Somalia and Yemen to reflect on what direction they want to take.
In the same way Bin Laden’s murder smells to high heaven but has been swept away because the US really can’t afford that to be questioned (in the same way they really couldn’t afford to have him in court – too many secrets) this killing is a cold hearted, savage and brutal taking of another human being’s life. And we all are diminished by this act.
And that’s way, way before we think about the body being put on display for three days in a cold store.
Meanwhile in Melbourne a couple of hundred (maybe)peaceful protestors we man handled and dragged out of the City Square by a dragoon of 400 or more police, including riot squad, horses and dogs. This despite no evidence of a violent intent and no suggestion of any inconvenience being caused apart from the complaints of a few businesses ( the irony of businesses complaining about the loss of income due to a protest about corporate greed is somewhat delicious).
There are around 900 ‘occupy New York’ type protests currently around the world. Four of these have so far been dispersed. To think that Melbourne would be one of those is shameful and frankly embarrassing.
I have no doubt that the Nero like Lord Mayor ordered the protest broken up (‘or dealt with’) for no reasons of philosophy, politics or right but because he thought it was dirty and unsightly, there was a planned private school function at the Town Hall (Mr Doyle has long had associations with private schools) and he was under considerable pressure from businesses. To then accuse protestors of arrogance is the height of, well arrogance. At last he shows his true colors.
Police, my police, are here to protect me from physical harm and to uphold the law. No one was under physical threat on Friday UNTIL the police arrived. The question of whether the protestors had a ‘right’ to be in the City Square and whether that had committed to moving on is interesting but something that could be resolved by asking a group of the protestors to have a chat and talk through the best ways to disperse. The word over-reaction doesn’t come close to how the story played out. Fences were erected to corral the campers, people were singled out and then dragged out, punches were thrown, horses were stormed in and it was on for young and old. Insults were thrown as strongly as fists and little boys and girls reverted to their immature and base selves to exert their might. This was true; I have no doubt of all sides. Meanwhile the Emperor looked down from his Town Hall eyrie.
A couple of questions I have been pondering – the riot squad were there; at what point was a decision made that things might turn in such a way that the riot squad would be ‘required’, similarly with the number of horses and dogs? I have seen any number of (often large) demonstrations in the last few years – the anti Iraq invasion, anti carbon tax, Falun Gong injustice, Work Choices, free detainees etc- and I have never seen this sort of ‘anti force’ presence. What was the evidence or intelligence that the decisions makers drew on to say these divisions would be employed? There was also obviously a fair number of plain clothes people with their cameras firing away (ah ASIO come back, all is forgiven), presumably in anticipation of any legal disputation. You have to suspect an agenda was being served by someone.
Peter Ryan described the police action as ‘magnificent’, the Premier has congratulated them and the Lord Mayor is almost beside himself with joy for what took place. And all for what? A piece of land in the centre of Melbourne where some well meaning and open hearted people gave up the comforts of home (and yes maybe their deodorant – ho hum so did the might Roman warriors and our ‘boys’ in the two world wars)to commit to a cause they believe in. In these days of banality and ennui, where most people can’t even be bothered having a conversation, I say thank god for them. And shame on anyone who tries to smash that.
Here we are then, another example where we have to be better than this. We have to be able to have strong exchanges of thought and ideas in a community so that we advance democracy if that’s what we feel is important. We have to constantly question capitalism and who has the power in the world and if that benefits everyone. We can’t applaud the rise of free speech in countries such as Libya, Egypt, Algiers etc and then say it’s fine in this country ‘as long as...’ We have to be better than that and it’s not up to our police force to be thugs and to be at the beck and call of disingenuous politicians with questionable motives.
So from these two events, seemingly disparate but to me obviously linked, there is a loud message for our powerful.
Over the last year or so we have seen minority governments in Australia, Britain and Belgium with other election results which came out of nowhere and unexpected. This year, this extraordinary year, we have seen the Arab Spring (surely it must now be at least autumn) where people have literally risked, and some (far too many) have lost, their lives. Many who have been silent for all their lives have found their voices and their courage and have taken to the streets to ask for change. This is change for themselves, their lives and their fellow citizens because the way they have been living, the way they have been governed and led is no longer the way they want to be living.
This new thinking is a clarion call to governments, decision makers, business leaders and politicians everywhere.
The concern for me is that I don’t know that they are listening. The government in this country seems to lack direction and you only have to watch question time in Parliament to want to shout ‘have you learnt nothing from the election result’. It is disheartening.
When you don’t listen to what a group of people are saying in Melbourne’s City Square you are also not listening to the people of New York, Rome, Sofia, Istanbul, London and Moscow. That is a lot of wisdom and that is a lot of people, people who vote and shape governments and might be future politicians or writers or in positions where they can influence opinion and thought for future generations.
We can be better and we must be. It is 2011 for heaven’s sake and it is what we are meant to be, we are the people who have been given the privilege of being here and shaping the present in preparation for the future.
How can we blow that just because we aren’t prepared to be ‘better’?
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
You Don't Have to be Old to be Grumpy #2
Remember in the good old days when someone would say ‘How are you?’ and you’d automatically respond ‘not bad, you?’ It was all rhetorical and deeply meaningless but in the end one of those little courtesies that was neither here nor there. There are equivalents all over the world and did nothing more than break the ice or indicated an acknowledgement you were involved in an exchange with another human being. Frankly it was good enough for me and served its purpose.
Now of course that perfectly satisfactory set of words is no longer good enough and the over familiarity and intrusiveness that Facebook and (so called) Reality TV have bred demands something else. Today you are more likely to be asked an ‘open’ question such as ‘So how has your day been so far?’ I don’t like it.
It didn’t matter how you were feeling in the old days, you would always respond with ‘not bad’ or ‘good’ (as though you’d been asked your moral standing). It was a rare beast that might have been open enough to let you know in fact they were a bit crook or had a pustule that was causing them grief, thanks for asking. Today, I feel as though I need to keep a diary to recount the events of my day when some spotty, underpaid weed poses the big question. I guess I should be grateful I can understand what they’re saying because lord knows much of what anyone under 20 says these days is unfathomable to me, like no true as if whatever, totally.
What do they care how my day has been anyway? What would they do if I responded fully? ‘Well actually my day has been pretty good. I’ve survived a day of abuse and unfair work conditions in my underlit and poky office. That of course is nothing compared to the deprivations people in Iraq are enduring under the liberating forces of the coalition of the all too willing. Oh by the way what is your opinion on that whole thing? Can we really say that they are better off now than before? Especially when you consider that some sources reckon nearly 100,000 civilians have been killed by coalition forces. That’s 100,000 people who had no say in the whole process and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and now are…dead. But at least we did all this to avenge the nearly 3000 people who were killed in the Twin Towers and just because there’s no link between that and Iraq I guess we shouldn’t look into it too deeply. How has your day been? Yes I’ll have some cash out as well thanks’
For a bit of fun when asked this question just try answering ‘terrible’ and see if you even get an acknowledgement of what you said. I bet you don’t. So automatic is the question and so uninterested or untrained are they in the reply it just disappears into the ether. One time when I was asked I just stared at the guy and I got nothing back.
There’s no escape either, you can be interrogated anywhere, the hairdresser, the bank, a restaurant, the supermarket. For God’s sake, can’t anyone cope with dead air anymore; does every bit of space have to be filled with something? Do we always have to have hold music, can no-one say ‘thanks bye’ when you leave instead of ‘thank you for shopping at Goaways’, can’t I have a moment to fill out a form without some awkward chat and trust me I don’t mind if I get my hair cut and the guy with the scissors says nothing after ‘so what are we doing today?’ It’s as though we’re scared of silence. What’s up with that?
Yes, yes I know they’re told to say it and I know there are even fascist employers who would scold their staff if they don’t say it but STOP now. That’s no excuse, it annoys me and it alienates me, it’s intrusive and I don’t think it’s appropriate.
It might be a generational thing but so what, I’m entitled to my generational sensibilities, who are you to tell me it’s wrong or old fashioned or ‘that’s the way it is now’. Believe me customer service was a whole helluva lot better twenty years ago. Now I do most of the work people used to do for me years ago, I’d ring somewhere and get to speak to someone straight away and they even solved my problem themselves. Now I have to work my way through a menu selection before I get to ask my question and be transferred around five different people without having the reason for my call answered to. I could get on a tram and buy a ticket from a real live person whether I had coin or notes let alone forgotten to buy one in advance from the not so convenient store location. I could even go into a takeaway shop and buy a cup of coffee and the person serving me would take my order, make my coffee, hand it back to me and not need to ask me my name to finalise it all with three other people needing to be involved.
Asking me how my day has been is not going to fix that. Finding a slogan or a label for everything instead of just calling it what it is isn’t going to fix it either. Listening to what I’m saying, providing me with what I want and treating me as though I am the only person you’re interested in for that brief moment will do me fine.
By the way how are you?
Now of course that perfectly satisfactory set of words is no longer good enough and the over familiarity and intrusiveness that Facebook and (so called) Reality TV have bred demands something else. Today you are more likely to be asked an ‘open’ question such as ‘So how has your day been so far?’ I don’t like it.
It didn’t matter how you were feeling in the old days, you would always respond with ‘not bad’ or ‘good’ (as though you’d been asked your moral standing). It was a rare beast that might have been open enough to let you know in fact they were a bit crook or had a pustule that was causing them grief, thanks for asking. Today, I feel as though I need to keep a diary to recount the events of my day when some spotty, underpaid weed poses the big question. I guess I should be grateful I can understand what they’re saying because lord knows much of what anyone under 20 says these days is unfathomable to me, like no true as if whatever, totally.
What do they care how my day has been anyway? What would they do if I responded fully? ‘Well actually my day has been pretty good. I’ve survived a day of abuse and unfair work conditions in my underlit and poky office. That of course is nothing compared to the deprivations people in Iraq are enduring under the liberating forces of the coalition of the all too willing. Oh by the way what is your opinion on that whole thing? Can we really say that they are better off now than before? Especially when you consider that some sources reckon nearly 100,000 civilians have been killed by coalition forces. That’s 100,000 people who had no say in the whole process and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and now are…dead. But at least we did all this to avenge the nearly 3000 people who were killed in the Twin Towers and just because there’s no link between that and Iraq I guess we shouldn’t look into it too deeply. How has your day been? Yes I’ll have some cash out as well thanks’
For a bit of fun when asked this question just try answering ‘terrible’ and see if you even get an acknowledgement of what you said. I bet you don’t. So automatic is the question and so uninterested or untrained are they in the reply it just disappears into the ether. One time when I was asked I just stared at the guy and I got nothing back.
There’s no escape either, you can be interrogated anywhere, the hairdresser, the bank, a restaurant, the supermarket. For God’s sake, can’t anyone cope with dead air anymore; does every bit of space have to be filled with something? Do we always have to have hold music, can no-one say ‘thanks bye’ when you leave instead of ‘thank you for shopping at Goaways’, can’t I have a moment to fill out a form without some awkward chat and trust me I don’t mind if I get my hair cut and the guy with the scissors says nothing after ‘so what are we doing today?’ It’s as though we’re scared of silence. What’s up with that?
Yes, yes I know they’re told to say it and I know there are even fascist employers who would scold their staff if they don’t say it but STOP now. That’s no excuse, it annoys me and it alienates me, it’s intrusive and I don’t think it’s appropriate.
It might be a generational thing but so what, I’m entitled to my generational sensibilities, who are you to tell me it’s wrong or old fashioned or ‘that’s the way it is now’. Believe me customer service was a whole helluva lot better twenty years ago. Now I do most of the work people used to do for me years ago, I’d ring somewhere and get to speak to someone straight away and they even solved my problem themselves. Now I have to work my way through a menu selection before I get to ask my question and be transferred around five different people without having the reason for my call answered to. I could get on a tram and buy a ticket from a real live person whether I had coin or notes let alone forgotten to buy one in advance from the not so convenient store location. I could even go into a takeaway shop and buy a cup of coffee and the person serving me would take my order, make my coffee, hand it back to me and not need to ask me my name to finalise it all with three other people needing to be involved.
Asking me how my day has been is not going to fix that. Finding a slogan or a label for everything instead of just calling it what it is isn’t going to fix it either. Listening to what I’m saying, providing me with what I want and treating me as though I am the only person you’re interested in for that brief moment will do me fine.
By the way how are you?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Ten Years On...Where'd We End Up?
Ten years ago Channel Nine was playing show shuffle with the wonderful ‘The West Wing’ and consigned it to 11.oo on Tuesday nights. I’d set the video to record it as usual and went off to bed for my usual battle with attempted sleep. I was listening to Tony Delroy on ABC Radio to while away the time until I dropped off. News came through of something going awry in New York. As the story of the ‘light plane’ crashing into one of the towers at the World Trade Center I got up to see if anything was on the tele.
By the time I got up there was Jim Waley on the screen looking bewildered but reporting on what would develop over the hours as a story surreal and unimaginable. The irony was that a tv series about the machinations of the US Presidency and Government was interrupted by news that would affect that very institution at its core.
Like most people I was transfixed by what I saw on the screens or was hearing on the radio. It simply couldn’t be real could it. At what point was Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorsese going to walk into frame and explain how the CGI effects were done? Sadly, ultimately it wasn’t too be and what we were actually seeing (‘processing’) was a tragedy unfolding for a city, a nation, a world but most importantly, most deeply thousands of families and friends, workmates and observers.
I remember the next day at work felt as though in slow motion. You knew some people just wanted to talk about it, but where to start and it was clear others hadn’t come to terms with it all or didn’t want to go there. There was fear – what’s next, are we safe- there was hatred and there was absolute, unadulterated sadness.
Ten years on I wonder whether we missed opportunities, how well and mature the response was, if we reacted rather than acted well and what was lost that day in the streets of Manhattan, the field of Pennsylvania and the corridors of the Pentagon.
The invasion of Afghanistan may have been just but has it been successful? The Iraq bombardment was neither just nor worthy of countries attempting to prove they were on the side of ‘right’ or the good guys. Muslims were vilified, either directly or by implication and some were even physically attacked which shames us all. I have yet to see proof that Bin Laden engineered or ordered the attacks but I have no doubt it was done in his name. But that was Bin Laden not the religion and we ought to think a bit more about the difference sometimes and what it says about us if we act from a point of ignorance and hate rather than pause and think.
I don’t believe the world is a better place today than it was ten years ago but it is certainly different. September 11th 2001 allowed governments, including our own, to introduce vile laws, unfair and unreasonable sanctions against its own people. Security measures are often extreme and would shame repressive regimes – especially the ones were decry for their human rights abuses. It led to Guantanamo being a focal point of unspeakable acts and the dispensing of fundamental rights to a fair trial and basic justice. ‘The worst of the worst’ were supposed to be in there and yet there have been only one or two trials and the majority of those imprisoned have been released and most of those live back in their communities harmless and productive. So much bad was done in our names by our governments and the coalition of the all too willing; so much was done to enforce the negative image of the West rather than claiming the high moral ground and leading by example to say ‘this is the way a decent, just and free world works’. We missed the opportunity to bring our ‘enemies’ into the conversation and show through our actions that we wouldn’t reach for the gun but we’d say ‘enough’ and work through it together. It could have been done through the law, it could have been done by isolating the wrongdoers so that their followers would lose faith in them and it could have been done by getting on with our lives, enhancing our rights and treasuring our liberties.
I am angry that nearly 3000 people were taken from us on that day and I continue to be angry that hundreds of thousands more have died since in Afghanistan and Iraq and through other terrorist attacks. What stories that might have had, what history they might have made, what a world this could have been. My world, my history, they would have added to that and how dare any mindless, vile, evil and hateful act take that from me, from any of us.
Teach your children well, cherish yourselves and have a good heart.
By the time I got up there was Jim Waley on the screen looking bewildered but reporting on what would develop over the hours as a story surreal and unimaginable. The irony was that a tv series about the machinations of the US Presidency and Government was interrupted by news that would affect that very institution at its core.
Like most people I was transfixed by what I saw on the screens or was hearing on the radio. It simply couldn’t be real could it. At what point was Steven Spielberg or Martin Scorsese going to walk into frame and explain how the CGI effects were done? Sadly, ultimately it wasn’t too be and what we were actually seeing (‘processing’) was a tragedy unfolding for a city, a nation, a world but most importantly, most deeply thousands of families and friends, workmates and observers.
I remember the next day at work felt as though in slow motion. You knew some people just wanted to talk about it, but where to start and it was clear others hadn’t come to terms with it all or didn’t want to go there. There was fear – what’s next, are we safe- there was hatred and there was absolute, unadulterated sadness.
Ten years on I wonder whether we missed opportunities, how well and mature the response was, if we reacted rather than acted well and what was lost that day in the streets of Manhattan, the field of Pennsylvania and the corridors of the Pentagon.
The invasion of Afghanistan may have been just but has it been successful? The Iraq bombardment was neither just nor worthy of countries attempting to prove they were on the side of ‘right’ or the good guys. Muslims were vilified, either directly or by implication and some were even physically attacked which shames us all. I have yet to see proof that Bin Laden engineered or ordered the attacks but I have no doubt it was done in his name. But that was Bin Laden not the religion and we ought to think a bit more about the difference sometimes and what it says about us if we act from a point of ignorance and hate rather than pause and think.
I don’t believe the world is a better place today than it was ten years ago but it is certainly different. September 11th 2001 allowed governments, including our own, to introduce vile laws, unfair and unreasonable sanctions against its own people. Security measures are often extreme and would shame repressive regimes – especially the ones were decry for their human rights abuses. It led to Guantanamo being a focal point of unspeakable acts and the dispensing of fundamental rights to a fair trial and basic justice. ‘The worst of the worst’ were supposed to be in there and yet there have been only one or two trials and the majority of those imprisoned have been released and most of those live back in their communities harmless and productive. So much bad was done in our names by our governments and the coalition of the all too willing; so much was done to enforce the negative image of the West rather than claiming the high moral ground and leading by example to say ‘this is the way a decent, just and free world works’. We missed the opportunity to bring our ‘enemies’ into the conversation and show through our actions that we wouldn’t reach for the gun but we’d say ‘enough’ and work through it together. It could have been done through the law, it could have been done by isolating the wrongdoers so that their followers would lose faith in them and it could have been done by getting on with our lives, enhancing our rights and treasuring our liberties.
I am angry that nearly 3000 people were taken from us on that day and I continue to be angry that hundreds of thousands more have died since in Afghanistan and Iraq and through other terrorist attacks. What stories that might have had, what history they might have made, what a world this could have been. My world, my history, they would have added to that and how dare any mindless, vile, evil and hateful act take that from me, from any of us.
Teach your children well, cherish yourselves and have a good heart.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Not So Specific and Certainly No Solution
Now that the High Court has delivered its finding that the Malaysian Solution is invalid I think it’s time for the Government to embark on more creative and constructive thinking about the refugee issue.
It might not be popular or trendy but a big idea is just the thing to tackle what has become an unnecessarily troubling and divisive hot button topic in our fair land. A small percentage of people are risking their lives hopping on boats and travelling through dangerous waters. A disproportionately large amount of dollars are being spent on housing these people offshore. Politicians are running around, mouthing off and whipping up a frenzy of misinformation and pandering to the ill informed for the basest of reasons. Maturity and intelligent discourse has gone out the window to win popularity. In the meantime good people are having their already troubled lives made ugly and some of us are left to gasp ‘why’ or ‘when will this stop?’
The ludicrous idea that so called people smugglers have a business model and that our government must then break it is just dumb. I prefer to think how do we simply give these opportunists no reason to operate anymore?
A recent report says there are 91,000 people in Malaysia currently awaiting either determination on their refugee claim or have been declared refugees but haven’t been ‘assigned’ a country to reside in.
How about we embark on a real ‘Pacific Solution’? My big idea is first to get all the neighbourhood countries together (we might even be able to influence Canada) and ask them to take 20,000 of these people. This would make a significant difference to the numbers awaiting relocation and hardly affect the overall immigration numbers in the region. There would also be a big dent in potential ‘customers’ for the people smugglers.
Second we get the Pacific/Asian countries to work on a way that we can attack refugee creation in the first place. What do we as a world community need to do so that people do not feel they have to escape their countries and if they do how so we manage that process humanely, efficiently and quickly? What is our best response? Let’s have a minimum response covenant that all nations (especially democracies)sign up to. If they won’t sign up the conversation then becomes one of ‘why would your country not want to provide a decent response to an extreme or horrid scenario’. If there are concerns about the UN then keep it removed from them, just keep the conversation going and asking the question ‘why not’? It is beyond fathomable why a country would not want to care for and about their own citizens and then not want other humans to be afforded the same opportunities.
The money we would say by stopping the laughable off shore processing could actually be pumped back into the community for housing and services which would support the ‘detainees’ in their transition to their new lives. I know there are some who say that you can’t have ‘these people’ released into the community presumably because they are a threat to the rest of ‘us’. Well to my knowledge we haven’t had an increased security threat, let alone identified a terrorist (and lord knows the definition of a terrorist is so wide these days, anyone could be seen as one)from anyone who has arrived here by boat.
How nice if this country at this moment with this Parliament would step up and say ‘enough’ and decide ‘it’s time to change’.
How nice would it be if we stopped focusing on the boats and thought about the PEOPLE.
One day...
It might not be popular or trendy but a big idea is just the thing to tackle what has become an unnecessarily troubling and divisive hot button topic in our fair land. A small percentage of people are risking their lives hopping on boats and travelling through dangerous waters. A disproportionately large amount of dollars are being spent on housing these people offshore. Politicians are running around, mouthing off and whipping up a frenzy of misinformation and pandering to the ill informed for the basest of reasons. Maturity and intelligent discourse has gone out the window to win popularity. In the meantime good people are having their already troubled lives made ugly and some of us are left to gasp ‘why’ or ‘when will this stop?’
The ludicrous idea that so called people smugglers have a business model and that our government must then break it is just dumb. I prefer to think how do we simply give these opportunists no reason to operate anymore?
A recent report says there are 91,000 people in Malaysia currently awaiting either determination on their refugee claim or have been declared refugees but haven’t been ‘assigned’ a country to reside in.
How about we embark on a real ‘Pacific Solution’? My big idea is first to get all the neighbourhood countries together (we might even be able to influence Canada) and ask them to take 20,000 of these people. This would make a significant difference to the numbers awaiting relocation and hardly affect the overall immigration numbers in the region. There would also be a big dent in potential ‘customers’ for the people smugglers.
Second we get the Pacific/Asian countries to work on a way that we can attack refugee creation in the first place. What do we as a world community need to do so that people do not feel they have to escape their countries and if they do how so we manage that process humanely, efficiently and quickly? What is our best response? Let’s have a minimum response covenant that all nations (especially democracies)sign up to. If they won’t sign up the conversation then becomes one of ‘why would your country not want to provide a decent response to an extreme or horrid scenario’. If there are concerns about the UN then keep it removed from them, just keep the conversation going and asking the question ‘why not’? It is beyond fathomable why a country would not want to care for and about their own citizens and then not want other humans to be afforded the same opportunities.
The money we would say by stopping the laughable off shore processing could actually be pumped back into the community for housing and services which would support the ‘detainees’ in their transition to their new lives. I know there are some who say that you can’t have ‘these people’ released into the community presumably because they are a threat to the rest of ‘us’. Well to my knowledge we haven’t had an increased security threat, let alone identified a terrorist (and lord knows the definition of a terrorist is so wide these days, anyone could be seen as one)from anyone who has arrived here by boat.
How nice if this country at this moment with this Parliament would step up and say ‘enough’ and decide ‘it’s time to change’.
How nice would it be if we stopped focusing on the boats and thought about the PEOPLE.
One day...
Monday, September 5, 2011
Melbourne Writers Festival 2011 - literary luvvies' heaven
In a year that has seen the rise of the e-reader, the closing of Borders, Angus and Robertson and Readers Feast, it wouldn't be surprising if a writers festival was challenging. Thankfully Melbourne's annual Literary luvvy fest didn't seem to suffer at all. I turned up for about 11 sessions at my 14th Festival.
Dymocks took over as the official bookstore this year after readings had done the job for a few years. I thought they had a much better set up this year with a good layout in the store although being able to move around is problematic in such a small space. The signing lines too were set up with good old ropes but it worked very well and gave one a bit more 'space' to have a quiet chat with writers and a bit easier if you had books to be signed by more than one author.
Unfortunately if, like me, you had a pass card you had to always have with you what sessions you were attending and I had to keep checking the paper guide to know where the sessions were because there didn't appear to be any directory on display telling you what was on where. Epic fail on that count!
Long live the book and long live writers!
Dymocks took over as the official bookstore this year after readings had done the job for a few years. I thought they had a much better set up this year with a good layout in the store although being able to move around is problematic in such a small space. The signing lines too were set up with good old ropes but it worked very well and gave one a bit more 'space' to have a quiet chat with writers and a bit easier if you had books to be signed by more than one author.
Unfortunately if, like me, you had a pass card you had to always have with you what sessions you were attending and I had to keep checking the paper guide to know where the sessions were because there didn't appear to be any directory on display telling you what was on where. Epic fail on that count!
- Jonathan Franzen was the opening act for me and was not exactly Mr high energy! When he managed to form coherent phrases he was very entertaining, indeed very funny but my gosh the pauses were so long at times three buses could have driven through! I had a chat with him after and asked him about the saga of the first edition of his latest book 'Freedom' needing to be pulped because it was actually an uncorrected proof containing many typos. His tip made me realise my copy is one that contained the errors!
- A session with Michael Robotham and Tess Gerritsen was hugely entertaining with lots of insights into the art of writing crime. Tess really knew how to present her stuff and told a great story about Nantucket's 'House of Rejuvenation" aka the local morgue - so named because of the preponderance of people declared dead who actually weren't!
- A session on Melbourne stories made me proud of the City I call home and reminded me how lovely it is to read a book set here. Had a nice chat to Rosalie Ham, Steve Carroll and Sophie Cunningham.
- Lynda La Plante who writes such tough characters was a quite refined woman who was absolutely hilarious and a great rubber face she used to great effect. Kerry Greenwood and Jane Clifton joined her in a session called 'lady killers'. I'm afraid I may have ignored LaPlante at the signing afterwards because I was somewhat caught up in a conversation with Kerry, simply sliding my copy of Lynda's book in her direction. A few minutes later when I picked the book up voila it was signed and I hadn't actually engaged in any conversation with her, let alone said thanks - oops!
- Terrific conversation sessions with Christine Nixon (enlightening and revealing), Jane Clifton (fascinating and charming) and Anna Funder (so beautiful and so bright) were highlights.
- There is nearly always one session that h. as an edge to it and might very well unravel before one's eyes and for me this year it was a session about Julian Assange and WikiLeaks. Some vigorous discussion about what makes a journalist, freedom of speech and what responsibilities go with that and whether the person chairing a discussion is required to have an opinion. Very entertaining and interesting with a woman who co-wrote a book with Julian when he lived in Melbourne and a guy who was an expert on investigative journalism and emerging technologies for the media. Tracey Hutchison seemed ill at ease in the chair and in fact bridled at some of the responses before getting embroiled in a discussion around journalistic ethics.
- I was particularly pleased to sit in on a session with Tom Trumble and Ken Haley on 'slow travel'. Tom wrote a book about walking the Camino in Spain (which had been a selection in our work book group) and ken is a wheelchair bound traveller. We even had a bit of a slide show! Great to chat to Tom afterwards and even discussed footwear for 8000 km walking!
- Favel parrot who must surely be an Australian novelist to watch after her superb 'Past the Shallows' was terrific in a session with Malcolm Knox and Gretchen Shirm on Surf Nation. We had a lovely chat afterwards.
Long live the book and long live writers!
Monday, August 22, 2011
You Don't Have to Be Old to Be Grumpy #1
I look at the world and I'm bemused and befuddled by what I see more often than not. May I vent?
I had the joy of recently going to a couple of the Winter 'blockbuster events' on in Melbourne - Tutankhamen at the Museum, and Vienna; Art and Design at the NGV. Both very good and well worth a visit, even if they are both outrageously overpriced - thus making it difficult for low incomers who have as much right to access as the rest of us - history and art ought not be confined to the middle classes in 2011 surely.
This is my bemusement though. Has everyone suddenly gone blind as well as lost their peripheral vision not to mention their manners?
What seems to be the 'go' now is for people to get right up as close as possible to a display/exhibit. If you dare to stand back a little bit to take in a good view of an item you will pretty quickly find someone will stand right in front of you and almost press their noses up against the glass casing. Don't think for a second that they care they now block your view and don't think for a second that they'll move on quickly either. MADDENING.
At Tut I was reading some descriptive text on the wall (quite a large piece of writing) and this bloke comes and stands between me and it and looks off into the distance. I thought maybe he was just stopping for a think but he stayed. I moved slightly hoping he would realise I was being blocked but no. 'Excuse me?' I said and I got THAT look - the one that suggests I may have stood in something not so pleasant smelling. I pointed to the writing and he just shrugged and moved away, no apology or embarrassment.
So are we seeing the rise of ignorance or, in the age of mobile phones and hand held devices where we have our heads down all the time and can zone the rest of the world out, are we just not aware of anyone around us?
Oh and in case you're wondering, this is people of all ages, it would be so much easier if it was those pesky kids but seriously some of my generation and the next are just as ignorant.
Two other asides:
I had the joy of recently going to a couple of the Winter 'blockbuster events' on in Melbourne - Tutankhamen at the Museum, and Vienna; Art and Design at the NGV. Both very good and well worth a visit, even if they are both outrageously overpriced - thus making it difficult for low incomers who have as much right to access as the rest of us - history and art ought not be confined to the middle classes in 2011 surely.
This is my bemusement though. Has everyone suddenly gone blind as well as lost their peripheral vision not to mention their manners?
What seems to be the 'go' now is for people to get right up as close as possible to a display/exhibit. If you dare to stand back a little bit to take in a good view of an item you will pretty quickly find someone will stand right in front of you and almost press their noses up against the glass casing. Don't think for a second that they care they now block your view and don't think for a second that they'll move on quickly either. MADDENING.
At Tut I was reading some descriptive text on the wall (quite a large piece of writing) and this bloke comes and stands between me and it and looks off into the distance. I thought maybe he was just stopping for a think but he stayed. I moved slightly hoping he would realise I was being blocked but no. 'Excuse me?' I said and I got THAT look - the one that suggests I may have stood in something not so pleasant smelling. I pointed to the writing and he just shrugged and moved away, no apology or embarrassment.
So are we seeing the rise of ignorance or, in the age of mobile phones and hand held devices where we have our heads down all the time and can zone the rest of the world out, are we just not aware of anyone around us?
Oh and in case you're wondering, this is people of all ages, it would be so much easier if it was those pesky kids but seriously some of my generation and the next are just as ignorant.
Two other asides:
- With so many people looking down all the time to read their screens or scrolling through their MP3 menus will we evolve into a species with a permanent stoop or head down stature - will our necks and backs conform somehow? The skeletal structure of future generationsmight be worth watching.
- On the subject of prices I was interested to note that a coffee table book at the Tut exhibition was selling for nearly $10 more than in bookshops, even a small booklet was an extra $7 to the bookstore price. Surely they were making enough already and the ethics of overcharging to a 'captive' audience is questionable.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Talk about born again
Four years ago yesterday I was in the more than capable hands of a cardiac surgery team at the Alfred Hospital having a double bypass to repair some clogged arteries. Not satisfied with taking the chainsaw to my ribcage once they went back in a few hours later for a second go and some patching up for which I am very grateful. So January 5th has become my re-birthday. This gives me two opportunities in January to reflect on my life and the things I feel blessed about...Jan 5th for the surgery and then on the 29th for my actual birth.
The story of my cardiac journey will I hope one day be read my many people when my book 'Oops I Broke My Heart' is eventually published (anyone know a publisher????).
I was feeling a bit crook yesterday so didn't quite get to take advantage of the day and celebrate but tonight I had a wonderful 'moment' which took me back to one of the magical times in my blessed life. And, as so often happens with me, it was a sheer fluke that it happened tonight. I was looking at my TV Guide and bemoaning that there wasn't much on and I would really quite like to 'veg' for the night. Then I espied on SBS2 a doco called 'Disfarmer'...I fair nearly wet myself! Okay,he's flipped out I hear you mutter...
In 2002 I was staying with my friend Ninna in Sweden. One of the weekends there I went to spend in Gothenberg for the first time. A beautiful city with lots of interesting things to see. One of the places i wandered into was the Museum of Art where there was an exhibition of photos from Heber County in the American West taken in the early part of the 20th Century. The photographer's name was Disfarmer.
These photos mesmerised me, wonderful portraits of farmers and townsfolk, looking natural (even somewhat raw) bemused, curious and ponderous, unfazed but cautious and in each one a story just bursting to be told. He captured the essence of every single person while they tried to show us nothing. All of them had gone to his ramshackle studio in town and parted with their 25cents ( a weeks wage for many) and walked away with a treasure.
Disfarmer was enigmatic as well. He was born Mike Meyer and 'claimed' to have been blown into town in a tornado. The unusual last name may have been his way of saying he was not a farmer or it could have been his belief that Meyer meant farmer in German (wrong). He was single, a little bit odd but clearly a photographic genius. He died in 1959 and in 2002 his photos were just starting to spark an interest. According to the doco he is now commanding thousands of dollars for one of the original photos and I surfed the net to see copies selling in the high hundreds.
I am thrilled to have seen the exhibition all those years ago and the images stick with me, they are purely magic. I hope you get to see them some day too.
What a lovely thing to happen in the shadow of my re-birth day...It made me smile, I'm so glad to still be here.
The story of my cardiac journey will I hope one day be read my many people when my book 'Oops I Broke My Heart' is eventually published (anyone know a publisher????).
I was feeling a bit crook yesterday so didn't quite get to take advantage of the day and celebrate but tonight I had a wonderful 'moment' which took me back to one of the magical times in my blessed life. And, as so often happens with me, it was a sheer fluke that it happened tonight. I was looking at my TV Guide and bemoaning that there wasn't much on and I would really quite like to 'veg' for the night. Then I espied on SBS2 a doco called 'Disfarmer'...I fair nearly wet myself! Okay,he's flipped out I hear you mutter...
In 2002 I was staying with my friend Ninna in Sweden. One of the weekends there I went to spend in Gothenberg for the first time. A beautiful city with lots of interesting things to see. One of the places i wandered into was the Museum of Art where there was an exhibition of photos from Heber County in the American West taken in the early part of the 20th Century. The photographer's name was Disfarmer.
These photos mesmerised me, wonderful portraits of farmers and townsfolk, looking natural (even somewhat raw) bemused, curious and ponderous, unfazed but cautious and in each one a story just bursting to be told. He captured the essence of every single person while they tried to show us nothing. All of them had gone to his ramshackle studio in town and parted with their 25cents ( a weeks wage for many) and walked away with a treasure.
I am thrilled to have seen the exhibition all those years ago and the images stick with me, they are purely magic. I hope you get to see them some day too.
What a lovely thing to happen in the shadow of my re-birth day...It made me smile, I'm so glad to still be here.
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