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Book Review: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

2012-01-29T22:00:00.000+11:00

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berendt tells of a murder and the court case following, in 1980’s Savannah, Georgia. The murder and court case are furnished richly by, and are almost secondary to, the setting and exploration of the central theme of the book – the co-existence of good and evil.

Danny Hansford, a young local male prostitute, is killed by Jim Williams, a wealthy bachelor in his 40’s, a self-made man, once an outsider but now the centre of Savannah’s elite.

In Savannah, society’s admirable strengths and pitiful weaknesses stand in sharp contrast to each other. Its people move in small social circles and everyone seems to know each other, but racism and homophobia are more prevalent than in other areas. Several wealthy society people are fixated upon restoring the ‘old Savannah’ to its former glory, causing displacement of large groups of disadvantaged people. Savannah was once a place of grandeur and wealth; at the time of the book’s publication, it had been in decline and possibly at rock-bottom for many years. This genteel English-seeming past stands in contrast to the local practices of voodoo in the black community, often taking place at midnight. Savannah’s climate is sultry; hot and humid, with long, sunny days that often end in huge parties and overindulgence in alcohol.

Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, or MITGOGAE, as I like to refer to it, is part of a string of books I am reading to partially sate my desire for all things American, falling into the genre of Southern Gothic. It is a non-fictional story written almost as though it were a novel, or, ‘faction’ – although this term seems less of a put-down knowing that In Cold Blood by Truman Capote is classified as ‘faction’. The sequence of events is re-ordered, and artistic license is used.

Not belonging specifically to either the novel or the non-fiction camp is the weak point of the book. I did not often believe that I was reading an account of true events, so I was skeptical of a lot of the content.

The author embellishes recalled conversations that actually took place with language to imply that he is transcribing the conversation. The result is that the book reads a little like a script. Words like ‘um’ are used, but at the same time, everyone is articulate, often making their point with the assistance of italics. Speeches are long, conversations are complex and detailed, moving and turbulent. I could not help thinking that people just don’t speak like that in reality. This recollection/transcribed conundrum is compounded when a real-life character with a distinctive personality, is given eccentric or stylised dialogue, serving only to make me skeptical of whether the conversation ever took place. One example is The Lady Chablis, repeatedly using the word “Yayiss!” Okay, Chablis might use this word regularly in reality. But seriously, is it necessary to relay it in that fashion – ad nauseum? “Yayiss, yayiss! Yayiss…” Another example is Minerva’s dialect-like variations on words. When Minerva is recalled, her speech is treated as a direct quote, slang abundant and seemingly intact. (Is he parodying her? I am insulted on her behalf.) The references to the book’s central theme – which is also the book’s title – are far too frequent and obvious. While I think this central theme is the strongest element of the book, I found myself saying, ‘Yes, I get it,’ and ‘How convenient,’ simultaneously.

The following are interesting references to architectural details. The book is peppered with these, but I have made this selection due to presence of architectural detail I would not see in Australia. As an architect it’s my job to keep my eyes peeled for such information.

p76

… as I stood up, he grabbed hold of the door and pulled it sharply upward. The door lifted completely off its hinges. Luther laid it down flat on the living-room floor. “This is more than just an ordinary door,” he said. “It’s what’s called a ‘cooling board.’ Cooling boards are for laying out corpses and preparing them for burial. It’s a typical feature of old houses. The front door doubles as a cooling board. My family’s houses have always had them, so I had one made for myself. When I go, they’ll carry me out on this.”

p299

“Dr. Lindsley told me that an old house will defeat you if you try to restore it all at once – from roof to windows, weatherboarding, jacking it up, central heating, wiring. You must think of doing one thing at a time. First you say to yourself: Today I am going to think about leveling off the sills. And you get all the sills leveled. Then you turn your mind to the weatherboarding, and gradually you do all the weatherboarding. Then you consider the windows. Just window at a time. That window right there. You ask yourself, “What’s wrong with that part of the window?” You must do it in sections, because that’s the way it was built. And then suddenly you will find the whole thing completed. Otherwise, it will defeat you.”

p368

He had let them bring their equipment in and hang lace curtains in the living room to give Mercer House the look of a mansion in Boston in the mid 1860’s.

p373

On top of that, Adler had become embroiled in a bitter fight locally over his plan to build new Victorian-style social housing in downtown Savannah. Adler’s scheme called for row upon row of identical houses covered with vinyl siding and jammed together with no lawns or green spaces in between.

Book review: The God Delusion

2011-03-02T00:28:00.001+11:00

This book is possibly the most thought-provoking book I've ever read. Man, Climate and Architecture by Baruch Givoni runs a close second. It shouldn't be so high up the list but its just so hard. I haven't finished it yet either. So far I have only read Dawkins' book once - over Christmas and New Year 2010/2011. (Isn't that funny - reading an atheist book on Christmas Day. Totally unintentional.)

The book is very informative and a great directory of other interesting things to read. The texts and sites referenced in the body alone, let alone the reference list, are enough to keep you engrossed for years.

Other than the more 'meta' parts of the book, there are really interesting sections about the Bible, the Church, the Pope, purgatory and limbo, heaven and hell, polytheism, agnosticism, war, religious extremism, meme theory, Darwinism, psychology, cults.

I'm about to pull out a big fat excuse in order to shirk my responsibility of writing a decent review... I'm very tired right now. It's been a long day, and I don't want to upset my dear extremist readers. Seriously, though. I can't review the subject matter of the book other than by saying that I'm a non-believer anyway, and I can swallow most of Dawkins' argument. Not to say that I accept everything he says at face value; I think that a lot of what he says, I thunk anyway, to some degree.

Following is a list of interesting things that I want to investigate, which were referenced in the book.

Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. (I've seen the movie though.)

Counterfeit World by Daniel F. Galouye (sci-fi novel)

“… suggested (and I cannot think how to disprove it) that we live in a computer simulation, set up by some vastly superior civilization. But the simulators themselves would have to come from somewhere.” –p98

Manx Shearwater (bird species)

“One of [the ornithologists] added that the diabolical shrieks and cackles of this species have earned it, in various parts of the world and various languages, the local nickname ‘Devil Bird.’” - p112

Free Inquiry (magazine)

“… that excellent magazine, assembled a collection of articles documenting the contradictions and gaping holes in the well-loved Christmas story. [The editor] lists the many contradictions between Matthew and Luke, the only two evangelists who treat the birth of Jesus at all.” – p119

The term ‘self-bootstrapping’, repeated throughout.

While reading the book, I incorrectly assumed that this was referring to the act of lifting yourself up by your own bootstraps, which wikipedia defines as “implying that someone is attempting or has claimed some ludicrously far-fetched or impossible task. Presumably a variant on a traditional tall tale…” This expression was often incorrectly attributed to the story The Surprising Adventures of Baron Munchausen, a collection of tall tales, where the main character pulls himself out of a swamp by his pigtail. (My father once joked that my mother "could lift her own weight in a bucket”, I interpret this to have a similar meaning.)

However, Dawkins takes the term as used in computing and applies it to the intelligent design theory. Wikipedia defines bootstrapping in computing as “a technique by which a simple computer program activates a more complicated system of programs”… and is said to be a self-sustaining system, where no external input is required other than the initial trigger. But when applied to the intelligent design theory, the term ‘self-bootstrapping’ helps illustrates the claim that an awesome sentient being created everything is a logically debatable statement.

Kim Sterelny, philosopher of science from New Zealand

- knows a lot of stuff about aborigines from Australia and other areas – p193

The Great Vowel Shift

Dawkins discussed this in light of natural selection. The Great Vowel Shift took place in English between fifteenth and eighteenth centuries. “One vowel shifted first, for reasons unknown – perhaps fashionable imitation of an admired or powerful individual, as is alleged to be the origin of the Spanish lisp. Never mind how the Great Vowel Shift started: according to this history, once the first vowel had changed, other vowels had to shift in its train, to reduce ambiguity…” p230

Lords of the Golden Horn, by Noel Barber

“I have already observed that Hitler’s ideas and intentions were not self-evidently more evil than those of Caligula – or some of the Ottoman sultans, whose staggering feats of nastiness are described in [the book named above]…” p308

American Theocracy, by Kevin Phillips

The Fundamentals of Extremism: The Christian Right in America, by Kimberly Blaker

The American Taliban website referred to on p326.

Khomeini. The name is spake in the film IN THE LOOP. “You're sitting on a new Khomeini?” and SEINFELD: The Baby Shower - "You believe this guy? He holds a grudge like Khomeini."

The Missionary Position: Mother Teresa in Theory and Practice, by Christopher Hitchens. Someone that I used to work with told me that Mother Teresa was a hypocrite. I’m curious. “The greatest destroyer of peace is abortion.” –p330

Randall Terry and ‘Operation Rescue’, an organization that intimidates abortion providers.

The huge degree of suffering of an adult cow in a slaughterhouse.

Terror in the Mind of God, by Mark Juergensmeyer

“A certain kind of mind cannot see the moral difference between killing a microscopic cluster of cells on the one hand, and killing a full-grown doctor on the other.” -p333

Roald Dahl’s short stories. (The dark ones.)

Pharyngula website.

The Guardian , which I keep hearing is good.

Monty Python's THE MEANING OF LIFE

“…surreal idiocy of [The Great Beethoven Fallacy] is best summed up in that splendid song ‘Every Sperm is Sacred’ sung by Michael Palin, with a chorus of hundreds of children… is a typical example of logical mess we get into when out minds are befuddled by religiously inspired absolutism.” -p339

The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, by David I. Kerzer

“In 1858 Edgardo Mortara, a six-year-old child of Jewish parents living in Bologna, was legally seized by the papal police [!!!] acting under orders from the Inquisition. Edgardo was forcibly dragged away from his weeping mother and distraught father to the Catechumens (house for the conversion of Jews and Muslims) in Rome, and thereafter brought up as a Roman Catholic. Aside from occasional brief visits under close priestly supervision, his parents never saw him again… the reason for these priestly abductions was always the same. In every case, the child had been secretly baptized at some earlier date, usually by a Catholic nursemaid, and the Inquisition later came to hear of the baptism.” –p350

Francis Bacon. I'm not interested in the 17^th century philosopher. I'm interested in the painter. This book reminded me of that.

The Onion website, that I had totally forgotten about.

The King James Bible of 1611, Dawkins not only says that most people who hold the Bible up as an example of how we should live, clearly haven’t read it; he also says it is a huge part of English literary culture, and you’re missing out if you don’t read it.

P.G. Wodehouse, whose work is supposedly very comical and full of Biblical expressions. I have seen the name and wondered whether his family name was ever Roadhouse, but somewhere along the line one of the sons was born with a speech impediment.

The Ordeal of Gilbert Penfold, by Evelyn Waugh

“…many people perceive their own thought processes as a kind of dialogue between the ‘self’ and another internal protagonist inside the head. Nowadays we understand that both ‘voices’ are our own – or if we don’t we are treated as mentally ill. This happened, briefly, to Evelyn Waugh… described his hallucinatory period, and the voices that he heard.” -p392

‘The Ultravoilet Garden’, lecture by Richard Dawkins, which talks about (among other things) how there is much that the human eye does not perceive, given its sensitivity to a comparatively narrow section of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Book Review: No Logo

2010-12-27T00:42:00.000+11:00

Naomi Klein’s No Logo was first published in 2001. This would have been about 2 years after I first heard the term ‘globalisation’; which at the time, I would have defined as, “McDonalds.” No further explanation required.? Anyway, this was always a book that I told myself I "really should read, one day.” So I made good on that. At the expense of reading something decent.

There is a bit of a problem with reading books with a political agenda, ten years after the fact. I mean, in the case of No Logo, the fact is still there. But perhaps I should have read something more current. If I wanted to see where the world currently stood on feminism, Germaine Greer wouldn’t be my first point of contact.

No Logo covers a lot of ground. Globalisation, corporations, marketing, advertising, branding, the consequences of these in the developed world and the developing world. But mostly, this book is a canvas on which Naomi Klein tests the limits of metaphor.

I might have finished reading it if I were more tolerant of her writing style. In the spirit of the author, consider: words are like water; theyre precious, but theyre cheap, and when there’s too many of them, you drown/eyes glaze over.

The subject matter of this book is so important that I was compelled to read 75% of it, but I couldn’t go any further. It was just like trying to read The Architecture of Happiness by Alain de Botton. I’ve got better things to do with my life. I could go and read something more academic on the subject. Not this educate-the-people stuff.

I don’t know who Klein’s target audience would be. Anyone who’s had to write an essay before can see that her writing isn’t dry, plus it needs polishing and refining. So if its unacademic, she must have been pitching it at the average human. I wonder if that worked. I remember seeing one or two people reading it when I was at uni. The average human wouldn’t have the interest. It’s a 450-odd paged book. It’s very wordy, long, and empassioned; soap-box stuff that starts losing its meaning because of the delivery, that makes you question the author’s sanity.

When I first started reading this book I couldn’t believe some of the material in it, the issues uncovered in it are just so dreadful. But as the book wore on, I found myself quickly becoming cynical and losing interest, and I found myself actually skimming it. Something I’ve only ever done once before – at the end of The Fountainhead, in the climactic scene between Wynand and Roark. Both of these authors should just get over it. And what editor thinks it’s a good idea to publish a rant?

Sorry Klein, you’ve shot yourself and your cause in the foot, if you can’t get your readers to finish reading.

Here are two of my favourite rants from the book:

p124: “… the political models in vogue [at the time] left many of us ill-equipped to deal with issues that were more about ownership than representation. We were too busy analyzing the pictures being projected on the wall to notice that the wall itself had been sold.” [Metaphorically. Not literally.]

And then further on the same page: “Rather than calling attention to the house of mirrors that passes for empirical truth (as the postmodern academics did), today’s media activists are concentrating on shattering the impenetrable shiny surfaces of branded culture, picking up the pieces and using them as sharp weapons in a war of actions, not images.”

I mean, come on! What was she thinking? What does that even mean? I’m not apathetic. I really care. But Klein, your allies have their eyes rolled back in their heads.

Also, Klein has this annoying and somewhat damaging habit of progressing through a chapter by saying, “Now this is what happened, and that’s really bad. But if you think that’s bad, this is even worse. And over here, it’s even worse, far worse than over there. But really, that’s nothing! Because what Im about to tell you is far worse again.” And you just sit there going, “Yeah, bring it on! Show me worse! Show me the very worst! I want to read the absolute worst thing you’ve got!” The book moves through chapter after chapter like this, listing the endless money-grubbing, manipulating, damning things about globalization etc, and it never feels as though Klein has actually made her point.

Here are some other eye-roll worthy gems:

P144- “At five or six… My favourite was the Shell sign, so bright and cartoon-like I was convinced that if I could climb up and touch it, it would be like touching something from another dimension – from the world of TV.” [I mean, really? Is that what you really thought? Or did you just make that up to prove a point.]

P145- “…Walt Disney, the grandfather of modern synergy, understood the desire to crawl inside the screen when he fantasized about building a self-enclosed Disney city… Disney’s project has been extending the fantasy of its films into toys, then Mattel’s was extending its toys into ever more elaborate fantasy worlds. This vision is perhaps best understood as the “Zen of Barbie”: Barbie is One. Barbie is all things.” [Who understands this vision as the “Zen of Barbie”? You’d have to be high before you thought that made any sense.]

Another thing worth mentioning is that Klein has two other recurring techniques of communication. The first technique is what seems to be term-coining. Take culture-jamming for instance. Im pretty sure she's made that up. And I am sure that this could have been said in a less daggy fashion. I have no problem with culture, but jamming? Unless we are talking about traffic or timber windows, I don’t want to hear this word. It makes me think of MC Hammer. (Interestingly, I have come across this term in one other context; shortly after I stopped reading the book, my bus passed a small art gallery in Enmore on its usual route. The front window of the gallery had the words Culture Jam painted on it, as though this were something cool to get excited about. I shuddered.)

Klein’s second nag-tactic is the recurring reference to things mentioned earlier in the book. Except that after a while, the reference is so distant, and such an abbreviation, that it loses its meaning, and instead becomes another thing to roll your eyes at.

I remember being told something once, when I was about 14, at a study seminar – that you’ll remember x% of something if you hear it; y% of something if you read it; and z% of something if you write it down and re-read it. So with this in mind, Klein can rest easy. I might have actively blocked out a lot of her angst, and had glazed eyes through parts of it, but I retained the main thrust of it, and I guess she would be happy about this.

As we keep hearing, every single person can make a difference in being a bit of an activist. Awareness will have a cumulative affect, one hopes. I’ve made a sincere effort not to buy clothes labeled MADE IN CHINA since I read the book, but its really hard! (I was forced to buy a Nike scarf at World Cup time so I could support my country in style. Label definitely reads MADE IN CHINA.) Its like, “Too late. Everything is now made in China.” The plight of all those factory workers worries me. Plus I have become even more acutely aware of the marketing behind our food products. (What did we eat for breakfast before we all ate cereal?)

And as for being a general consumer, feeling like I need stuff - for instance, I need a new big frying-pan, the one I have now is a piece of shit. MADE IN CHINA, some poor bastard might have scalded his first-born son with liquid Teflon while making it.

(Wealthy members of society can buy locally-made goods or organic food. The rest of us can only afford MADE IN CHINA, and cereal! Its so white to be an activist.)

The world around me, the developed world, is constantly telling me that I need stuff. I need better speakers. I need a new bedspread, for the warmer months. I will need a smart-phone soon because my standard Nokia is a pain. I need a black maxi-dress because it’s the only kind that looks any good on anyone. I need a cool diary, because how could I spend a whole year with an ordinary one? Et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. Consumerism is a curse, we are constantly being made to feel that what we have is inferior, and we are being judged by what we have. Is this why I keep hearing that “we all live beyond our means/on credit”? That “however much money you earn, a little bit more is always needed”? I don’t actually need this stuff. And Id certainly be a lot richer if I just didn’t buy anything and put all that money in the damned bank. Its like Brad Pitt says in FIGHT CLUB: “The things you own, end up owning you.” I didn’t know what this meant at the time, which not-so-co-incidentally was around the time No Logo was published. The pithiness of the line doesn’t hit the message home for a 19 year old. But I get it now.

Book review: Fast Food Nation

2010-12-05T17:03:00.000+11:00

FAST FOOD NATION, by Eric Schlosser. Published 2002.

I decided to buy FAST FOOD NATION after I went and saw the documentary FOOD INC, like a guilty, white middle-class vegetarian should do. (Thanks to my husband David for telling me about the link.)

FOOD INC was horrifying, but the book goes into more of the revolting detail than FOOD INC did. Perhaps the strength of the film is that you are actually seeing the things discussed. Shots from the air of CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation) and shots inside ‘chicken-houses’ are something that you can’t really conjure up.

In this review I will reproduce excerpts from the book – I have not verified these excerpts or cross-checked it. At the back of the book there are roughly 100 pages of notes on the text, saying where Schlosser got various pieces of information from. The bibliography is long. Poiticians, vegetarians, religious groups and concerned members of the public have queried the accuracy and/or bias of the book’s content; there are notes about this in the epilogue and appendix.

The structure of the book is clever; it begins with very dreamy, nostalgic description of southern California. But with each chapter, the book becomes more alarming. It discusses changes in the American diet, comparing today to 1970; it discusses advertising directed at children, and advertising in schools; employment conditions at a fast food outlet; employment and hygiene conditions in a slaughterhouse; living conditions in slaughterhouse towns; conditions for animals in feeding lots; and the varying degrees of health risks associated with eating food produced in factory farms, which supply both fast food restaurants and supermarkets. At various times throughout the book I felt quite nauseous, not to mention angry about what I was reading about various abuses; of the public, of children, of workers, and of animals.

The book FAST FOOD NATION begins by showing the context in which fast-food developed as part of the US economy. Schlosser writes about a post-war southern California. The author describes California as an arid climate, more-or-less desert. My vague understanding of the situation around 1930, was that Californian land could be acquired cheaply, be irrigated by water piped from thousands of miles away, and profited from. The ethical and political details of this I am unsure.

So, large parts of California were turned into citrus farms. The advent of the car, the end of a war, and the building of new interstate highways, meant that a lot of people moved to California to start a new life. And from this context, fast food restaurants began to evolve. How convenient, to be able to have your dinner handed to you whilst in your car. You could eat behind the steering wheel. Eventually, menus became limited to a few items, and excluded anything that required a plate, knife or fork. And trained staff preparing whole meals were suddenly replaced by untrained staff flipping beef patties every 90 seconds. Fast-food restaurants were evidently a very profitable enterprise; you could take your young family out for a bit of restaurant dining, without the restaurant price-tag. Fast food restaurants soon started popping up everywhere. And thus, according to Schlosser, began the industrialization of southern California. Apparently there were soon very few citrus farms. Wealthy farmers became few and the poor, uneducated workforce kept growing. And water was being piped in from thousands of miles away, to keep a booming population and industry alive.

I am a fairly strict vegetarian, have been so for more than two years. I probably lapse into being a carnivore about once every 12 weeks. Last week I got made redundant from my job, and in a fit of self-destruction, bought a sandwich for lunch with salami on it. It was horrible.

The description of animal treatment in this book totally disgusts me, and as the back cover predicts, I am put off fast-food FOR EVER. (I didn’t know that McDonalds fries were cooked in beef tallow.) I possibly would make an exception for In-N-Out Burger, which we do not have in Australia.

Equal in horror to health risks associated with factory farming, and animal cruelty caused by both factory farming and the meatpacking industry, which supplies supermarkets and fast-food restaurants, is the disgusting conditions in which slaughterhouse workers have to operate. Working in a slaughterhouse is apparently incredibly dangerous, mostly due to the speed at which everyone has to work. A lot of people have died working in slaughterhouses. Other people have lost hands and whole limbs in machines. Other people have been exposed to lethal doses of hydrogen sulfide gas (rotten-egg gas, emanating from blood of dead cattle). Meatpacking ‘killfloors’ and ‘rendering rooms’ are cleaned in the middle of the night, by a mixture of boiling water and chlorine, propelled from a fire-hose at the walls. The room stinks and visibility is greatly reduced. Not to mention, the meatpacking industry targets people who are desperate to get work and will therefore work extremely low rates, such as immigrants from Mexico. Meatpacking plants often advertise for employees on Mexican radio. The impact of dumping oft-desperate people in the rural heart of America, is such that these once-prosperous towns have become rife with drug use, crime, and obviously, poverty.

The following alarming quotes are taken directly from the book, and illustrate how the book becomes more horrific with each chapter. Facts are not listed in this way in the book; this is just for the purposes of retelling.

p46- ‘The typical American child now spends about 21 hours a week watching television – roughly one and a half months of TV every year… About one-quarter of American children between the ages of two and five have a TV in their room.’

p47- ‘ “…the key to attracting kids is toys, toys, toys.”… [In the USA, in 1997] McDonalds sold about 10 million Happy Meals in a typical week. Over the course of ten days in April 1997, by including a Teenie Beanie Baby with each purchase, McDonalds sold about 100 million Happy Meals… Within ten days about four Teenie Beanie Baby Happy Meals were sold for every American child [between the ages of three and nine.]’

p53- ‘Americans already drink soda at an annual rate of about fifty-six gallons [212L!!] per person – that’s nearly six hundred twelve-ounce cans of soda per person.’

p54- ‘In 1978, the typical teenage boy in the United States drank about seven ounces [207mL] of soda every day; today he drinks nearly three times that amount, deriving 9 percent of his daily caloric intake from soft drinks… A significant number of teenage boys are now drinking five or more cans of soda every day.’

p54- ‘About one fifth of [USA’s] one and two year olds now drink soda… Pepsi, Dr Pepper and Seven-Up encourage feeding soft-drinks to babies by licensing their logos to a major maker of bottles… many infants were indeed being fed soda in those bottles.’

p68- ‘ About two-thirds of [USA’s] fast food workers are under the age of twenty.’

p83- In 1998, more restaurant workers were murdered on the job in the United States than police officers.

p84- ‘According to industry studies, about two thirds of the robberies at fast food restaurants involve current or former employees… about half of all restaurant workers engaged in some form of cash or property theft…’

p121- ‘About 90 percent of the money that Americans spend on food is used to buy processed food.’

p122- ‘The aroma of a food can be responsible for as much as 90 percent of its flavour.’ (Aroma is added to a huge percentage if not all processed food that can be bought from a supermarket or fast food restaurant.)

p123- (Referring to McDonalds) ‘The chain’s ‘heavy users’ [are] customers who eat there four or five times a week.’

p125- ‘The quality that people seek most of all in a food, its flavour, is usually present in a quantity too infinitesimal to be measured by any traditional culinary terms such as ounces or teaspoons… as low as one part per billion. The human nose, however, is still more sensitive than any machine yet invented… quantities present of a few parts per trillion – an amount equal to 0.000000000003%.’

p130- ‘The Lamb Water Gun Knife uses a high-pressure hose to shoot potatoes at a speed of 117 feet per second [35.6 metres per second] through a grid of sharpened steel blades, thereby creating perfectly sliced French fries.’

p149- ‘You can smell Greeley, Colorado, long before you can see it… combination of live animals, manure, and dead animals being rendered into dog food… Many people who live there no longer notice the smell…’

p152- (Describing Chicago’s now largely disused meat-packing district.) ‘In The Jungle (1906) Upton Sinclair described a litany of horrors… [including] a workplace accident in which a man fell into a vat and got turned into lard. The plant kept running, and the lard was sold to unsuspecting customers.’

p174- (Describing how quickly a conveyor belt carrying dead cattle travels through a room at a slaughterhouse.) ‘The unrelenting pressure of trying to keep up with the line has encouraged widespread methamphetamine use among meatpackers.’

p195- ‘Every day in the United States, roughly 200,000 people are sickened by a foodborne disease, 900 are hospitalized, and fourteen die… more than a quarter of the American population suffers a bout of food poisoning each year.’

p198- ‘By the early 1990s… The average American ate three hamburgers a week.’

p230- ‘Around [1992], a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant in Saudi Arabia’s holy city of Mecca set new sales records for the chain, earning $200,000 in a single week during Ramadan…’

p237- ‘ In 1997, Gorbachev appeared in a Pizza Hut commercial… [patrons] thanked him in the ad for bringing the fast food chain to Russia… Gorbachev saluted them by raising a slice of pizza.’

p240- ‘More than half of all American adults and about one quarter of all American children are now obese or overweight… Today about 44 million American adults are obese. An additional 6 million are ‘super-obese’…’

p241- ‘The CDC estimates that about 280,000 Americans die every year as a direct result of being overweight.’

p244- ‘In France, a sheep farmer and political activist named Jose Bove led a group that demolished a McDonalds under construction… praised by socialists and conservatives, invited him to meetings with the president and the prime minister. He has written a French bestseller entitled The World Is Not For Sale – And Nor Am I!

p257- ‘None of the cattle used in Lasater Grasslands Beef spent any time at a feedlot. The meat is much lower in fat than grain-fed beef, and has a much stronger, more distinctive flavour. Lasater says that most Americans have forgotten what real beef tastes like. Argentine beef is considered a gourmet item, served at expensive restaurants, and almost all of the cattle in Argentina are grass-fed.’

p264- ‘Salmonella has been almost entirely eliminated from Swedish and Dutch eggs. Every year in the United States, however, more than half a million people become ill after eating eggs contaminated with Salmonella, and more than 300 people die.’

p282- ‘For years, excessive line speeds and improper stunning have led to cattle and hogs being dismembered while fully conscious.’

p286- ‘Today nations with [a record of mad cow disease in their cattle] [must also] figure out what to do with their remains. In Great Britain, about a billion pounds of rendered cattle sit at waste sites, vast mounds of fine brown powder, awaiting incineration. In Japan, plans are being made to blend rendered cattle with concrete – and use the mixture as a building material.’

p287- ‘The current FDA… allow cattle to be fed to pigs, pigs to be fed to cattle, cattle to be fed to poultry, and poultry to be fed to cattle. They allow dogs and cats to be fed to dogs and cats. Although leading American manufacturers promise never to put rendered pets into their pet food, it is still legal to do so.’

p288- ‘The German government has taken the lead on this issue in the EU, calling for the de-industrialisation of agriculture and the planning to make 20 percent of its farmland organic by the year 2010.’

More in Dulwich Hill

2010-11-03T21:38:00.000+11:00

I noticed the above garden when I was walking with my husband to get a coffee. I dont believe the photo is a good representation of what I like about the garden, but sometimes this is inevitable. I really like this garden because it has a very strong sense of vertical space, given by the tall cactii and gum trees. The cactii are a pretty unorthodox plant for a communal garden in a residential building this age. They give an interesting quality to a space which would be ordinary otherwise.

The above photo is also of a block of flats. Its an old building by Australian standards. I dont know exactly how old. This era of apartment building is quite evident in Dulwich Hill, but I find these buildings interesting even so, as there are always unique points. There is nothing like this where I grew up.

Brick buildings, Sydney

2010-11-02T23:14:00.000+11:00

Above: Randwick

Above: Glebe.

I love seeing old, relatively unspecial buildings in seemingly good nick.

(I wish our landlord was that kind of guy.)

Above: Potts Point

British Racing Green, Dulwich Hill

2010-11-01T20:28:00.000+11:00

Blue-and-white houses, Dulwich Hill

2010-10-31T13:54:00.001+11:00

Boredoms, Sydney

2010-10-13T23:23:00.000+11:00

One block back from Venice Beach

2010-09-21T19:29:00.002+10:00

Above: Shingles, with Pringles. (mmm sour cream & chives.)

Above: Moorish?

Above: Moorishness. The Canal Club, near Venice Canal

Above: American-looking

Above: Tuscan villa, with palm treez

Above: Beach-side; weatherboards, verandah, succulent plants, kerbside.

Above: My hubby David under an awning that offers little protection

Above: flats; more succulents

Above: Locals of the Venice Canal. (Arent they cute!?)

Above & following: Venice Canal. Kitschy and less-kitschy co-existing.

(As a non-American, this place seemed reeeeally quirky.

Not that this is a bad thing.)

Above: Note the Venice-style bridges going over the canal.

So you can get your gondola / kayak under.

Above: A hell of a lot of glass. Like the scale & shape though.

Whats that column holding up - concrete roof?

Above: Nice window. It had ornaments in it...

Above: This is why I want a garden

Above: Clogs?

Above: American-looking, and, yum. Ill have one of those thanks.

Above: Check the big cars!!

Above: composition of openings

Above: very beachy

Above: Flats

Above: Another local, having a dust bath

Houses at Venice Beach

2010-06-08T20:43:00.001+10:00

These photos were taken on our recent holiday, on which my husband David and I got married.

I took so many photos. I am going to have to put them up in small installations. One step at a time. Next entry will be about the houses one block back from the beach, ha.

I found most houses pretty impressive in a few ways. Firstly, the facades. The size. The bright colours. The clear differences between neighbours' houses. Different degrees of security and fencing / walls.

The most interesting thing I began to notice on this particular day (actually, we had just got off the plane,) was that a lot of houses in this area seem to be a mash-up of different influences. Seemingly; colonial style, bad modernism, and hacienda-type stuff (not pictured here.) *all needs citation

I should make the point that I loved going to Venice Beach. I felt like a total tourist and we nearly got accosted, but hey.

Nightmare on George St

2010-05-24T21:53:00.001+10:00

Book review: On The Road

2010-05-20T23:02:00.005+10:00

Better believe it.

Image courtesy of kerouac.com online store.

The front cover of the first printing in 1957.

I read On The Road by Jack Kerouac on my boss' recommendation. You know, I’m such a good girl that I do as I’m told even when I’m not being paid to do so. He recommended it because of the similarity between it and the itinerary of my then-pending holiday to the USA and Mexico.

I’m no sycophant. It was just a good-enough reason to read something by this author that I had previously heard so much flack about. This flack probably comes from the Australian lack of respect for, or more likely jealousy of, Americans.

Prior to reading, my understanding was that Kerouac wrote ‘Beat poetry,’ which was jibberish, stream-of-consciousness stuff. Almost completely untrue.

I don’t have much of an understanding about American subcultures of the 1950’s and 60’s. I am not American, this is not a part of my history. Because of these vague and inaccurate associations, I therefore guessed Kerouac was a poet like Lois Cook, the arrogant and talent-less dilettante author of The Gallant Gallstone from Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead.

I was at the end of the day completely ignorant about the book’s content. It introduced me to subtle and deeply interesting concepts.

On The Road is largely autobiographical, set between 1947 and 1949.

The plot follows the goings-on in the life of Sal Paradise and his friends and acquaintances. Sal is the narrator. He is a writer; when reading, I estimated his age at around 35, perhaps older, as he briefly mentions his career as a writer and teacher, his turbulent divorce, and the period of depression that followed. He is also slightly older and wiser than his friends. But this book was written in 1951, when Kerouac would have been 29 - from 1947 to 1949, he would have been 25-27.

Sal, who speaks in the first person, lives with his aunt in upstate New York. He lectures at a university to earn money in between writing novels. In the beginning of the story he has had some recent success with the publication of a book, and has the financial means to go on a long holiday. He reveals that he is very keen to get ‘out on the road’ - to head across the country towards his crazy-sounding friends, who currently reside on the West Coast.

The West is something he has never seen, but has always dreamed of. He has formed ideals in his mind about what he would see, how he would feel, who he would meet. He wants to refresh his will to live, and he craves new experiences and stimulae for his work.

Throughout the story he travels in various cars and trucks, sitting either in the car with the driver, or on the back tray, with other hitchhikers. He quickly becomes poor; he needs to be extremely careful with how he spends his money. He lives on road-house apple pie at first, but this must be extravagant, because he then decides to live on cheese sandwiches that are days old. He gets thin and dirty. He often stops to get a job for a couple of weeks, to earn petrol money. He meets memorable characters, often mad, all with interesting pasts.

Neal Cassady (characterised as Dean Moriarty) with Kerouac, right, on the cover of

Cassady's autobiographical novel, which was published in 1971, three years after his death.

When he first reaches San Francisco, he is searching for Dean Moriarty. Dean is really the main character of the story, whereas Sal is the vessel. Up until now we have only heard Sal’s recollections of Dean as an innocent, mislead young man straight out of gaol for stealing cars, who talks a mile a minute. The picture above, however, must have been taken several years after the book was set. He has a thirst for higher learning but very little education, he is completely inspired by every new concept he comes across. He has a lust for life to a degree that does not seem humanly possible, or natural, and he believes in no reason to consider his limitations when pursuing the life he wants. He is a lovable character, and loved dearly by his friends. By the end of our time with him we have realized that he is selfish, and has a lasting negative effect on the lives of all around him.

However, for months at a time, Sal indulges his idiosyncrasies. He is charmed and inspired by Dean, and he knows they are in search of the same thing. Dean finds much in Sal because he is educated and wise.

1947 1949 1950Muchos gracias Wikipedia.

Their time together consists of repeatedly driving across the country at high speeds, causing much damage to their various cars; visits to various cities to ‘dig’ different kinds of people; reunions with estranged friends who lead equally eccentric lives; alcohol and dope consumption in excess; late nights in jazz bars, probably unheard of for Americans of English descent at the time; the pursuit of women, often sounding considerably younger than themselves; hours of listening to each other articulate theory upon theory about humanity; endless retelling of the tiniest details of each others’ lives; days and nights without sleep. Dean Moriarty and friend Carlo Marx have a unique pastime together; sitting cross-legged on Carlo’s bed, in his sister’s New York City basement, staring deeply into each others’ eyes, comprehending the depths of the soul, between sunset and sunrise. The friendship between Dean and Carlo is waning. (Carlo is said to be Allen Ginsberg.)

Several of these behaviours, such as a yearning for new experiences and rejection of social norms, are said to be peculiar to the ‘Beat Generation,’ and On The Road is credited as offering huge insight into this subculture.

Kerouac coined the phrase ‘Beat Generation’ in conversation with another writer, John Clellon Holmes, describing an emergent social attitude he was noticing. However, Kerouac did not consider himself a member. ‘Beat’ used in this context is a slippery term, but can be interpreted as ‘beaten down’, meaning tired of conventions, man, but perhaps also irrepressible. The original use of the word ‘beat’ dates earlier as a slang term, meaning ‘down and out’ or ‘poor and exhausted,’ which they certainly are in the text. The ‘Beat Generation’ Kerouac spoke of went on to be described inaccurately by others as ‘hipsters’ and ‘beatsters’, and then in 1958 when Russia launched Sputnik, the term ‘beatnik’ was coined. The phrase describing a specific subculture was being applied inappropriately to many, and lost its meaning.

I find it interesting to consider how the words ‘hippie’ and ‘boho’ are still used, sixty years after the fact. The meanings of the words are very different. These days the term ‘hipster’ is better defined as a middle-class, educated thirty-something, who wears used clothing, and has enough money and leisure time to practise yoga and Thai cooking. Even my dress-sense was once described as beatnik. Because on that day, I had combined navy blue and black. I must have been feeling particularly FTW.

When using the word ‘Bohemian,’ people happily apply it to half of Sydney’s inner west. People must like the word’s romantic European associations. Bohemia (pronounced Bo-eh-mia) is actually the name for a large area of land bordering former Czechoslovakia. Its neighbour then appropriated it by force. The inhabitants were referred to as Gypsies.

In the text, relationships plays a distant second fiddle to these attitudes. Sal describes Dean as a conman. His skills of persuasion are apparent in what his friends will tolerate just to be in his company. He is regularly borrowing money without repaying, or skipping town without notice, while all his friends are left hanging. He has a wife in San Francisco, with one child that he knows of, but he has a flame in every other city he has visited. On reaching each of these cities, he rekindles the fire, claiming that she ‘is the only one for me, I’ve always known it’ – and very shortly afterwards is trying to get rid of her. The story is full of women who are attracted to the wrong kind of men. Dean even tries his hand with school-age girls, saying that ‘the most beautiful girls in all the world live in Denver.’ His most significant con is his talk – others agree with it, and fall in love with it. They believe that the foundation for their conversations is lasting kinship. However, he moves on to the next person quickly, and seemingly without reason. By the end of the book, Dean is off on another flight of fancy, leaving Sal alone with pneumonia, in a city that he does not know. Sal finally sees Dean for the ‘rat’ that he is; he has been thrown on the scrapheap with so many others.

Cars seem to have a lot to answer for in this book, perhaps also in the wider world. This might be because cars were more affordable, and or more powerful than in previous years. If Dean had to do everything by bus, as Sal often did when traveling alone, he would not have been the madman he was, driving at ludicrous speeds through the night, crossing the country in a few short days, so he could ‘dig’ as much as he could, as quickly as possible. Kerouac claimed that many people acted in this way at the time.

The story predates affordable flights. Travel prior to this sounds asthough it was only for the upper crust. Caning it across your own country at high speeds might be the social equivalent of backpacking around South America or Europe, as it seems like every second twenty-something does these days. I recently read the inside cover of a travel guide - Frommers’ Mexico 2007. It talked about how this book franchise began with a traveler’s guide to Europe on-a-shoestring, one of the first of its kind, first published in the 1960’s.

Incidentally, there is a big lot of my own country that I haven’t ‘dug’ yet. Reading this book is one reason that I have decided that I will make more of an effort to travel.

Jack Kerouac - courtesy Wikipedia.

Apparently when Kerouac was writing this book he fed a 40m roll of grease-proof paper into the typewriter, so that it might assist him to maintain a flowing style of writing. He wrote without margins or paragraph breaks. He writes very long passages that describe situations at length and in detail, but refrains from using illustrative language. The urgency in Sal’s voice conveys Kerouac’s enthusiasm for the attitudes described. Long compounded sentences are used, and detail is relished. The writing style is very similar to the style of conversation between Sal and Dean. Kerouac gathered his material and prepared to write for a what is said to be a long time, and then spent a relatively short time writing the novel from his notes. The original ‘scroll’ was purchased in 2001 for $2.43 million, and is now on display in sections at Indiana University.

Some final words of wisdom from Kerouac:

Belief and technique for Modern Prose

(My favourites are in red)

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for your own joy

2. Submissive to everything, open, listening

3. Try never get drunk outside your own house

4. Be in love with your life

5. Something that you feel will find its own form

6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind

7. Blow as deep as you want to blow

8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind

9. The unspeakable visions of the individual

10. No time for poetry but exactly what is

11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest

12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you

13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition

14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time

15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog

16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye

17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself

18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea

19. Accept loss forever

20. Believe in the holy contour of life

21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind

22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better

23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning

24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge

25. Write for the world to read and see your exact pictures of it

26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form

27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness

28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better

29. You're a Genius all the time

30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Thank you to the following websites for helping me check my facts, several of which probably still need correcting:

http://www.bluesforpeace.com/beat.htm << fascinating site; beat culture lives on.

http://www.kerouac.com/ << Visit the Beat Museum, On Wheels! Plus, the online store for all your beat needs.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Kerouac

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/On_the_Road

Love of Diagrams @ Annandale Hotel, Sydney

2010-02-07T15:46:00.001+11:00

I was a big fan of an EP called We Got Communication, from 2005, by Love of Diagrams. This is the EP below.

I found out about this band from the radio in 2005. It's been a long time since I've uttered those words, "found out about this band from the radio," but there you have it. My fave radio program, The Soundlab, is on tonight; it rolled on in my absence, which I refer to as my "degree." I am planning on recording all future Soundlabs for musical research purposes. Anyway, when the EP pictured above was played live in the JJJ studios, my ears pricked up. Also because of their band name, the wanker in me said "Oooh, how architectural!" At that time, their sound seemed akin to something like Pumpkins or Soundgarden, probably the closest reference points to me at the time, but much faster and lighter in tone. Anyway, that EP kicks royal arse.

On 9th January, I went to see them at the Annandale. It was the launch for their new (EP? Album?) and I knew this, so I took along some extra money. I went to the merch desk... the girl seemed delighted when I told her that I would return with change from a 50. I thought, "Is that the bass player? No, why would she be out here?" It did not occur to me that band members would actually have to sell their own merchandise. Anyway I got their new CD, which sadly I have only listened to once so far... I have so much stuff on heavy rotation that this hasn't fit in yet. My boyfriend has been listening to it in the car, he gives his tick of approval.

Anyway, they rocked, they sounded great. It's like, non stop noise, to describe it poorly. Pictures below. Once again, I had camera problems... And I could not get any pictures of the male member of the group even close to being focussed. Thumbs up to Antonia's fringe.

Sydney Opera House pics

2010-01-28T22:26:00.003+11:00

Just before Christmas last year, I went to a marketing thing at the Opera House with the guys from work. We love these, mostly because of the free alcohol. I did see some nice wall-coverings being promoted, on my way to the bar.

Needless to say, the Opera House is a pretty photogenic building. Its hard for your eyes to find something boring to rest on. So I took a few pictures of the interior. I think the interior of the Opera House is a bit of an unsung hero; the wow-factor of the exterior skin is distracting. For me, the interior is where the wow is at. Well, I should clarify - I absolutely adore the shapes of the concrete beams, that gets me going much more than the white tiles. And the qualities of the different spaces inside are really varied and beautiful. I am just so amazed that something like this could be built in Australia, and pre-computers. Of course, buildings that seemingly defied the laws of physics happened in plenty of other countries pre-computers.

So I have included the shots I took of the concrete beams above the entry stairs, and a flash-photo of the sign for the women's bathrooms, which we found quite hilarious after a few champagnes. Its just a red sign on the wall that says 'WOMEN', but I guess we were imagining it out of context.

The following photos I take no credit for. I got these off flickr, which I am beginning to learn is an excellent source of work-related images for me, if I know exactly what Im looking for.

The shot above is the lighting during Air's performance in the Concert Hall, being projected across the ceiling. I love that ceiling - I love looking at it pondering the poor sucker who had to draw it. Its all curved plywood.

The shot above is the Concert Hall, obviously between performances. The reason I included this shot is that it baffles me HA, what those floating rings do. I have been told that they are baffles, but they must reflect sound straight back down to the stage, and let a lot pass through. Are they full of water?

Also, I keep hearing people say that the acoustics in there are not much good, but I wouldnt know. Apparently the sound bounces all over the place and everything is unclear... I have heard this about orchestral, acoustic guitar, and jazz performances. I saw Brian Eno in there recently, he could probably get away with it.

The shot above is where the work function was. Its really hot underneath all that glass, but if you go down the bottom of those stairs its marginally cooler. The photo above is not particularly flattering for the space, but its very pretty when youre there. Youre up above the harbour, the bridge is out the window etc. It feels very open.

The shot above is taken going up the stairs towards that back room with the purple carpet. The timber panelling projecting over the stairs might even be cantilevering from inside the concert hall - so beyond that timber, there would be a walkway or something.

The photo above was taken while someone was on a guided tour of the building, something I probably should do one of these days. Anyway, that concrete blade is PRETTY SEXY; a congratulatory performance from all who took part in that.

Above: Some concrete ribs, 'vaults'?

Above: A ridge beam.

Above: Some glazing fins.

And here's a crazy-angle shot that I also found on flickr, which was taken during the 'Luminous' exhibition in 2009, curated by Brian Eno. Slides were projected onto the Opera House over the course of one night, (I think it was only one night,) which slowly changed colour and texture. I wasnt there to see it, but if shots on the internet are anything to go by, it was truly the awes.

Kaki King @ Annandale Hotel, Sydney.

2010-01-06T22:03:00.002+11:00

The other night (actually it was Sunday the 3rd,) I went to see Kaki King with a couple of friends at the Annandale. Kaki is pretty amazing; she plays like a motherfucker. I saw her at a festival about four years ago, but I was so far away from the stage I could hardly see her.

I have to say that I prefer her music where it's less poppy/'song' structured, and more guitar-oriented. The highlights for me were the last song she played, where she had a lap steel guitar (I think,) and had some kind of loop pedal; the other highlight was watching the fanboy beside me head banging during 'Sad American.'

Interesting points of note:

- Kaki moves her hands, a lot.
- the guy playing the square recorder is actually playing a synthesiser-trumpet, or as the internet tells me, an EVI (Electronic Valve Instrument) originally made in the 70's.
- one of Kaki's guitars has weird little holes in it, like a doiley.
- Kaki looks like the lovechild of Keira Knightley and Hilary Swank.

Anyway, my subjects are largely out-of-focus again. So next gig I go to (which is this saturday,) I will try and not repeat this annoying error.

see? Keira + Hilary = Kaki's head.

Animal Collective (in Sydney.)

2009-12-20T12:18:00.001+11:00

Okay, so this year I have had some kind of miracle happen to me. I have found out about this band. I can confidently say, they are currently the best band on the planet. Its been about ten years since Ive said that. I wont go into why theyre amazing - if you're reading this, just do yourself a favour. Get out there and buy their stuff.

And its not just their most recent album thats done it for me - I am a dedicated fan who goes back in time, and buys shit on the internet. My life is richer for having found them, and Im annoyed that I hadnt found them before this year. My husband tells me that I am a Johnny-come-lately. Well, I guess thats why you should read zines etc. Anyway Ive learned my lesson, and Im doing that now.

So, last week - Friday night, 11th December. I saw them in Sydney and they were awesome. As I was confident they would be.

Photos are the best that any amateur could do, with an excellent zoom lens but 30m away from the stage. Note, Geologist (on stage's right) was incredibly hard to see, let alone get an exposure of. So these photos are mostly Avey and Panda.

Luna Park, Sydney

2009-12-15T14:20:00.005+11:00

On the day of my soon-to-be husband's graduation from AFTRS.

How photogenic is Luna Park? I had no idea. This was my first-ever visit.

Bill Posters. (And btw, who is Bill Posters?)

2009-12-09T21:47:00.003+11:00

Someone has a wrong-un sense of humour, and I like that in people.

Drawings #3, #4

2009-12-07T21:45:00.004+11:00

Bunya Pine Seed

Isobel Prince (2009)
420 x 207
paint, pencil, charcoal on paper

Branch 2
Isobel Prince (2009)
420 x 207
paint on paper

Stencils in Chippendale

2009-12-06T18:00:00.003+11:00

Chippendale has been lacking in koolth since Bourke Street Bakery closed down. Those sassy, arty kids serving coffees to the tune of Prince's Diamonds & Pearls presumably graduated from Sydney Uni and took their "fuck you" with them. Well, back in October, someone else stepped up to the plate.

And then in December, the rest of the kids have had a go. There's so many more stencils here, a mere six weeks later, that I had to stand back to get them all in. They're clearly all the rage. Pretty soon Clover Moore will be writing about it. Hell, I could even do a stencil.

It could never be as arty as this one though. I have never even watched a Chaplin film - so I wouldn't insult him by spraying his caricature onto a wall somewhere. Presumably this person is a really big fan, and is out to spread the word.

Having said all that, I am secretly jealous, and I think all these stencils are terrific.

Noise in construction

2009-12-01T21:39:00.005+11:00

I find this very interesting. It is stuck to the wall in the site office.

I want to know what a near diamond rock saw is, and what rocks are considered to be nearly as hard as diamonds.

The beginning of the answer to this question is here.

Bird's nest

2009-11-30T21:22:00.002+11:00

This is an electrically powered mechanical fan, on a roof. It is sucking air in under the white hood thing, through the duct, into the building below.

And this is a spotted turtledove. She has built a nest under the hood of the fan, on the grille just above the fan. She is sitting on an egg. I hung around the nest for about five minutes taking photos and generally making a lot of excited noise. You can see, her eyes are steely with determination - she was not frightened of this ridiculous buffoon in the least.

So, the supply air is being drawn through the grille, which holds her nest. Her tail feathers are fluttering around a bit due to the airflow. It is pretty amazing that she's still there - but I guess she hasn't got much choice. Not like she can carry an egg, is it. She's made her bed, she has to lie in it.

Sydney stuff

2009-11-29T15:30:00.004+11:00

William Street, Sydney. Apartment block. Ferns growing out of facade.

William Street, Sydney. Cobwebs growing all over black glazing, looks hideoso

Back of buildings on King Street, Newtown. Yum, purple.

Shepherd Street, Darlington.

Shepherd Street, Darlington. I like how all the timber frames are painted different colours.

Wilson Street, Darlington. Terrace houses with timber balconies overhanging the footpath.

Drawing #2

2009-11-25T00:25:00.006+11:00

I did this bark

Isobel Prince (2009)

Pencil on paper

800 x 400

Wow, you can hardly see this thing unless you click on it.

Orange co-incidence

2009-11-19T19:37:00.004+11:00

Fabric samples from a workmate's desk. Photo taken with great difficulty in the women's toilet at work.

Book review: Cloudstreet

2009-11-17T19:58:00.001+11:00

This is the first novel by Tim Winton I have read. I had been hearing about him for years, and seen his books for sale everywhere. I don’t know if you would describe this as ‘hype’, but whenever something becomes popular and enters common parlance, I become skeptical, and avoid it for as long as possible. Curiosity does not like to come sit at my table. I haven’t read any Harry Potters yet, and I probably never will. Which reminds me – on the bus the other day, a woman sat down in front of me, and she was holding a copy of The DaVinci Code. Now, come on… if the book that burns ten times as bright burns a tenth times as long, and by the way that’s ten times longer than The DaVinci Code deserves, how the hell is she only developing a curiosity to read it now? Wasn’t it written like, 5 years ago?

Cloudstreet’s message is delivered loud and clear; family has to stick together through thick and thin, because in the end it’s best for everyone. Of the many secondary to this; family makes us who we are, and can’t be escaped.

The story opens with introductions to both families – the rowdy, hardworking Lambs, and the quiet, brooding Pickles family. As the back of the book might tell you, after separate family crises, they come to share a huge, dilapidated house, in the suburbs of Perth.

It is about 1944, we are in a country town in Western Australia. We get the feeling that the climate is dry, and hot. We meet the fathers first. Each is hopeless and weak-willed, to the point of frustration; they are, however, forgivable. I see the fathers as the most important characters in the story. We don’t spend so much page time with them, but their decisions and habits have huge ramifications upon the lives of their wives and children. While the fathers are aware of this, they are not exactly apologetic. Despite blow after blow, both families manage to stay on their feet, but they are battered and bruised. (Do you like my sporting analogy? I could make this one could go all day.) After 20 years of struggle, certain events lead the two families find peace, acceptance, and happiness.

It’s largely thanks to the women. Oriel Lamb is a grouchy battleaxe with a thirst for competition and a work ethic to put us all to shame. Rose Pickles is a snappy, smart lass with a strong sense of independence. Oriel is a mother of five (excluding her husband, and this isn’t a joke.) Rose is the daughter of Sam and Dolly Pickles, and the younger sister of Ted and Chub.

Sam Pickles is married to Dolly Pickles. Dolly has nothing to do except cheat on her husband and dream of escaping her life, which she doesn’t have the brains or will-power to otherwise improve. She becomes a hateful alcoholic. Over the twenty years that the book covers, her famous sex appeal turns to washed-up ugliness that we pity her for.

The difference between Dolly and Oriel is that one has decided to soldier on, and the other has decided to give up. As a result one family is always healthier than the other. Oriel’s work ethic and sense of thrift must surely be particular to people trying to live through wartime. By contrast I considered how lucky I am, even just to have enough leisure time to read a book. It is interesting to think that there might be a whole generation of people out there who would go prawning in the river for their family’s dinner, at night, by candle light, with nets that have had their holes mended by hand. I’m afraid that if I were living in these kind of circumstances, I’d be the alcoholic. I am trying to remember any evidence of thriftiness from my grandparents. My grandmother told me that when she was young, she and her twin sister went to a ball. They only had one pair of gloves between them, and so they wore one each. That’s getting there. On the Pickles side of the fence, Rose picks up her mother’s slack. She leaves school at 15 and works on a switchboard, managing to hold the family together for a few years, but only just.

It has taken me a while to get around to saying it, but I was surprised at the strength and persistence of these women in keeping things together, given how desperate their circumstances are. I think they acted out of compulsion, rather than decision; they soldiered on without thinking about it much, as though they were on autopilot. Maybe that’s what it is to have dependants. I was continually astounded at their forgiveness of faults, even though it was a kind of resentful forgiveness. There was never any talk of divorce in the book, from anyone. Oriel was sleeping in the back yard in a tent, and Dolly was cheating on her husband repeatedly. So for the most part, no-one was happy. But somehow they accepted their circumstances as inevitable.

There is a quote early in the story thatt I just came across, which strikes a bit of a chord with me, being a girl and all:-

She was good to him, but she suffered for her lifelong inability to be a man.

It has been said to me before, “be a man.” (and therefore, “don’t be a woman.”) In most cases this is good advice. Don’t cry! Make demands! Say no! Don’t worry about it! It makes you feel like you have thick skin and [just] enough strength to get through the tough times.

Sam’s father, we can deduce, was not up to the task of doing the hard yards to care for his family, and his wife as described in the quote above could not fill his shoes. Sam himself is barely any better than his father. And Lester Lamb can’t do it for his family either. So it is up to the women to complete the task.

The relationship between Dolly and her daughter Rose is complex and harmful to both parties. Dolly has evidently been scarred by previous relationships with women, and Rose reminds her of this. Rose suffers turbulent teenage years, and instead of falling victim to her demons like Dolly, Rose slowly recovers when she reaches her early twenties. She constantly has an eye on escaping her circumstances and comes to the conclusion that she needs an ally who understands her; she finds Quick Lamb, the boy next door, whom she marries. In the end they realise they are stronger with family, than without them. I suppose you have to accept your family’s weaknesses if you want to live with them. An admirable goal, to be sure. I’ve been working on it for a while now.

There are three main types of setting in the book. The most prominent is the house the two families live in. The house, ‘Cloudstreet,’ has a sinister past that remains entrapped in the windowless library. As far as I can tell, this part of the story lends weight to an idea presented in several forms; that we are entwined with the other physical fabric that makes up the world, and that fabric has a consciousness we can tap into. But a living, breathing, haunted house? This stood in contrast to the rest of the story. I may have even rolled my eyes. Never bought it for a second. Can’t really say why, I guess I just wasn’t prepared for it. It’s not Harry Potter for Christ’s sake.

The second setting is around bodies of water. Water is depicted as an incomprehensible, supernatural force, with a consciousness as old as the earth. Like the reader, it watches time and events go by quickly, but it is unfeeling. Many turning points of the story occur when characters come into contact with water; Fish’s near-drowning which leaves him mentally impaired, Sam’s accident where he loses all fingers on his right hand. These are the inciting incidents in the story of each family. Later on, water comes to represent the relaxation of the boundary between waking life and dreams, where characters seek refuge in various states of mind and health to consider the world around them.

The third setting that we are conscious of as readers is the extreme dry heat (not really a setting, more of a climatic condition.) By contrast we feel the presence of water more strongly; water becomes a state of relief that characters are unconsciously yearning for.

Mixed up with this idea of consciousness in the world’s fabric is the idea that luck and fate are very real. If water has an observer’s role, luck is a participant, or as Sam Pickles the gambler calls it, the ‘shifty shadow.’

It was those shifts that governed a man’s life, so it always paid to be ahead of the play.

Like his father before him, he attempts to predict the outcome for gain, only to fail repeatedly, believing that it just wasn’t his time, but next time he is bound to have luck on his side. After years he learns that the shifty shadow just can’t be predicted, but it still demands reverence.

Fish Lamb is half-way to understanding these mysteries. Fish is the only person from either family who can see the ghosts in the library, and the only one who is downright afraid of the life contained in the fabric of the house. He always knows which way the knife is going to spin on the kitchen table. He rescues Quick from states of exhaustion and delirium, by entering his dreams and rowing him away in a floating boat. He speaks wisdom from beyond that no-one pays any attention to. He tells his uncomprehending mother that he dreams of returning to water; when his near-drowning occurred at 14, it is as though he swapped most of his cognitive abilities for unearthly intuition.

Tim Winton’s choice of language is something I have never come across before. There are words in this book that I have never heard elsewhere. “Roister and rankle,” “chiacking,” my favourite is “crotchpong,” “grapeshot,” “poofooted,” “lummocky, ” “Pimple up ya dimple!” Then there’s the slang: “Carn” for ‘come on,’ “Gwan” for ‘go on,’ “Ya may’s well, ” “Gunna,” instead of ‘going to,’ “Bin” instead of ‘been,’ “Orright?” “Oo-roo!” “Yer a real pack a cards,” “Cathlicks,” although this is exactly as the word is pronounced, “Dja?” for ‘did you,’ “Fair cop!” “I’ve used me noggin,” “Ya nong!” Plus the habit of combining two words into a new, unique word, gives the story a lot of humour. Anyway, these things play a huge part in transporting you to another time and place. Which is something that I felt whenever I read the book. Actually, this is usually what I select my books for. The previous two, Gabriela and The Road, had this same function; immersion in some other world. This is also why I like reading ‘the classics.’ But really, any other kind of novel just seems boring to me. I am glad that I have read a book that has taught me something about the way life was before my parents were born. And I needed reminding that there are people out there who really struggle, and who don’t really deserve to.

The working woman's dinner.

2009-11-11T20:07:00.005+11:00

Beer is courtesy of the work fridge. Well, not courtesy. More like stealing. Thieving.

Halloween fun in Sydney

2009-11-09T22:19:00.007+11:00

This plastic pumpkin thing (jack-o-lantern? dont know - Australian) was hanging about 4m above the ground, on Broadway. Some keen person took the time to climb up there - most likely without a ladder, in the middle of the night, while drunk.

My three big realisations.

2009-10-24T09:51:00.005+11:00

I wrote this at work. There is a fourth, but its incriminating.

4 films with exceptional opening shots.

2009-10-18T11:35:00.014+11:00

For a while I have had been compiling a list titled "Best Opening Shots of Films," that I have not been able to expand upon very quickly. It is difficult to define the criterion for entry in words. Its a very different list to "Best Title Sequences", which other people have covered pretty thoroughly.

Basically, the following opening shots have totally knocked my socks off, given me some kind of violent emotional reaction, and stuck in my head since first viewing. With exception to Kubrick, I am ballsy and stupid enough to hypothesise these directors were "accidentally awesome"; for mine, I can't see the same 'affect' (not 'effect') repeated anywhere else in these films.

1. Raging Bull (1980) - Dir. Martin Scorsese

We see a man 'shadow-boxing' in a ring, by himself, bouncing gracefully in slow motion, with spectators looking on from floor level. We see him from through the ropes around the boxing ring, as if viewing him through manuscript. The boxer's long hooded gown is a shroud around his body which moves slowly in response to his prancing. The scene is so misty you would be forgiven for thinking its taking place in a low-lying cloud. But its beautiful.

I have only seen half of this film. I found the DeNiro character so unlikeable that I didnt care what happened, so I turned it off. And so, the qualities of the opening shot are far above and beyond those of the rest of the film, which was incredibly disappointing at the time.

2. Barry Lyndon (1975) - Dir. Stanley Kubrick

Someone told me before I saw this film that "every shot appears to be based on a classical painting." And that's more or less true. The opening shot was my favourite. Black title cards with white text (from memory! feel free to pull me up on that) give way to the shot pictured above. Two men stand 10m apart with guns pointed at each other, and three onlookers stand nearby.

The colours green and purple are divided by the stone wall in the foreground, the camera is in deep focus, the five men are fat little sticks in silhouette, about 50m from the camera. Lets just say that the image is so striking it makes my heart leap up into my throat. I once tried to do a research project on what makes 'atmosphere' in a film, ie what 'affects' you, in quantitative terms, mind, not qualitative. It was VERY DIFFICULT, but I did it. I got a distinction.

3. Ran (1985) - Dir. Akira Kurosawa

The shot above appears at first to be a still image on the screen, until you see one of the horses swish its tail to be rid of a fly. The four men are guards, standing on top of a hill looking over surrounding areas, facing north, south, east and west. It is a hot day, and they are incredibly still and watchful.

The image is eerie, especially when accompanied by its music, which is pretty spare. The tone is an indicator of what will follow in the film - the demise of a man, his family, and his kingdom.

4. Dawn of the Dead (2004) - Dir. Zack Snyder

This, I should clarify, is not the opening shot of the film. It is the opening shot of the title sequence, which occurs about 10mins into the film. But really, from this point onwards, it feels like the film is at full tilt. I put this one last because it is probably the least deserving to be here - you can't really put DOTD and Barry Lyndon in the same class because next to Barry, Dawn is a retard, except for the affectivity of this shot. (Btw, I love Dawn of the Dead. Im not bagging it at all.) I took this photo from DVD - it is an atrocity that I couldnt find anything bigger than 10k on the web. Surely people have noticed it?

It is a 1-second cut of a few hundred people who speak one word in unison, then bow their heads to the ground, in a mosque. Might be archival footage. I love the way this made me think about the film, the first time I saw it. I channelled Zack Snyder himself and said "Whoa man! This movie is going to be awesome!"

I think the cut is included as a comment on human behaviour - when a group of people are gathered together with one purpose, they can be very powerful. Just like zombies.

Anyway, the rest of the title sequence is a bit more irreverent and gory, and a Johnny Cash song plays over the top, so I would really like to know the thought process that lead to Snyder & co putting this in the film.

Parklife

2009-10-12T22:42:00.016+11:00

These photos were taken at Parklife, in Sydney, on 4th October, in order of appearance. I went with my wonderful work chums. A good time was had by all.

Drawing #1

2009-10-03T19:28:00.007+10:00

Branch
Isobel Prince (2009)

Acrylic and pencil on paper

800 x 400

Book review: The Road

2009-09-24T22:42:00.009+10:00

About six weeks ago I decided to read The Road by Cormac McCarthy, because “they made a movie of it,” and it will be released soon. The film is directed by John Hillcoat, who directed The Proposition, and is a Queenslander, so good on him.

I strongly liked The Proposition, mostly because I have a bit of a taste for old timey stuff. I loved No Country for Old Men, which was based on another book by Cormac McCarthy. So the day after my boyfriend suggested I read The Road, I went to Kinokuniya to get it. The staff had written reviews and posted them on the shelf, they promised a harrowing read that would change my life.

And… I was skeptical, but they were right. I read this book in five days, most of the time with one fist clenched. I could not focus on my work that week. The morning after I began reading it, I went to work and told my boss about it.

He laughed at me and said, “What are you reading that shit for?”

The answer to this question would have been, “I like books that make me think,” had my mind not been racing with residual fear and anxiety.

The Road is a detailed account of a few months in the hopefully distant future, where a father and his young son trudge through a wasted, burned landscape. Endlessly suspended in the sky is a thick layer of grey ash. After some kind of apocalypse in years past, they are somehow still alive. Their will to survive is sharpened by the need for them to stay together.

What keeps them together is the stuff that packs the punch in this book.

There are other survivors in this place, but running into them is risking being killed or captured, which is worse. Life is not able to sustain itself; the other survivors are eating human flesh. It is quite a while before the story provides evidence of this; McCarthy lets it sink in slowly. And by then it’s a horrible shock. There is momentary recollection of blood cults, deranged chanting, bull drums, scantily clad catamites – and we can only imagine details around these things, which is probably more effective than reading them.

After we glean the terrifying reason for the man and his son being constantly in transit through hell, instead of holing up somewhere, we wait in hiding behind the pages for a clear patch in the story. Where we can breathe out, look around at the beautiful colours in the room, listen to the sound of our loved ones in the kitchen.

This book turned me from a 70% vegetarian to a 98% vegetarian. [I will be vegetarian one day.] I think its just plain wrong to corner distressed living things and keep them alive, in poor conditions, for the sake of gracelessly butchering them, cooking them, and eating them. As though their life never counted for anything but to be terminated. And as though it doesn’t terrify them.

This is what happens to captive survivors in the story. I am a little disgusted in myself that I had to reflect on what that might actually be like, to come to this conclusion about being vegetarian. Up until I read this book I guess I thought about it much more selfishly.

The Road made me consider humanity from an angle that no other book has; its absence. It was very clear to me that each survivor must have made a decision at some point – to band together and survive by eating human flesh, or to go into hiding, and have no determined supply of food. It is by choosing the former that a man becomes a monster, which McCarthy at one point describes as:

“My brother at last. The reptilian calculations in those cold and shifting eyes. The gray and rotting teeth. Claggy with human flesh. Who has made of the world a lie every word.”

You wonder why one might make this decision. What is there to stay alive for? What hope is there? Are they waiting for the world to heal itself, next month, or something? Where they can forget about the fact that they ate a person? It is a temporary answer to a permanent problem. Which is worsening, despite procreation for food. (eek!)

And so, in order for there to be as little chance possible of this happening anywhere in the future, we have to be kind to Earth. Please. What the book is describing sounds like a kind of ice age, and we are running the risk of causing one of these now. Or so I understand.

There is a positive side to this book, you could say it is as positive as the rest is negative. The protagonists live for each other; the father lives for his son, so that he might know that his son is alive and safe. The father is constantly asking himself whether if he were about to die, would he be able to kill his son, so he does not die horribly at the hands of another. And for all the questions this book makes you ask yourself, this is the most paradoxical.

Last of all, the distant but not insignificant stars of this book: Cormac McCarthy’s deadpan tone, and the visual terms in which the world is described.

4.7/5 stars

Book review: Gabriela Clove and Cinnamon

2009-09-20T19:25:00.006+10:00

Colour of cinnamon,

Clove’s sweet smell,

I’ve come a long way

To see Gabrielle.

Song of the Cacao Region

A couple of years ago I read a book by Brazilian author Jorge Amado, called Dona Flor and her Two Husbands, on recommendation by a friend with good taste in books. I enjoyed it so thoroughly that I read its 700-odd pages in about three weeks, which is a good effort for me these days. It is a story of a place I have always wanted to go, but know very little about, other than some vague tropical daydreams I have had, inspired by watching world cup soccer on TV. Dona Flor was set in a large town in the 1920’s, in the Brazilian state of Bahia.
And so is Gabriela, Clove and Cinnamon, a story of a child of nature. We meet Gabriela while she is on the move from the interior of the country, which has become a hopeless place for many due to drought. Her destination is Ilheus, a small but rapidly growing town on the coast with the reputation of an El Dorado, thanks to the boom in cacao farming. There she will live as she has always lived; simply, but freely. While settling in, Gabriela unintentionally entrances every boy and man that she meets, wearing a rose behind her ear and no shoes on her feet. No-one has ever met anyone like her; she is an enigma and reaches mythical status in the hearts of many.
But is Gabriela’s appeal to men really accidental? We learn that feeling desirable is an important part of who she is. Amado reveals a free-thinking woman who cannot be bounded by the parameters of class structure or money, or the powerful forces exerted upon herself and other women, by men.
Amado draws up a large cast of characters who are both lovable and flawed. Often the thoughts of a character are written with a cynical tongue, revealing the author’s opinion on class structure, marriage, feminism (the man is a true feminist) and materialism, and adding a thick layer of humour to the story.
Despite Gabriela being the subject of the book, she is not the central character. We see the events turn through the eyes of the likeable Nacib, her employer, paramour and (briefly) husband. Nacib owns a bar and it is there that much of the story takes place – through the talk of the bar’s regular customers, Nacib’s friends. We meet gamblers, womanizers, priests, alcoholics, politicians, engineers, poets, mobsters, scam artists, gun slingers, cacao farmers, office clerks, murderers, and horned cuckolds, who put together a picture of a society that loves life to the fullest, and fights hard for what it believes in.
A significant part of the tale is fixated on food, particularly Bahian recipes. Gabriela is a wonder chef. As the characters eat her food we fantasise about the taste of rich spices and seasonings, banana compote, salty crab chowder, manioc mush, and the superb taste of Bahian rum. Dona Flor was also a wonder chef; it makes you wonder if Amado’s stomach ever got him into trouble.
Gabriela is a solid read. It stimulates opinions on issues very prominent today, and considering the book was first published in 1958, this is impressive. But the book is actually quite light. There were times when I would have liked it to be a bit ‘heavier’ on the philosophical side, but maybe at those times we are meant to put the book down and think for a minute about the content, which is what I did, and this is fine. The most entertaining aspect is the re-telling of events of minor characters, or characters off the page. Its reading those parts where Amado’s talent really shines; the laughs and the highest drama are quickly detailed, and all the while Amado’s tongue is safely in his cheek.
I often read books written by men, who describe women in such interesting terms – terms that I don’t think get used in real life. Well maybe they did before now. The beauties in these books range from fragile and insipid, plain and thoughtful, strong and determined, to those more like Gabriela – the best looking woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. When the woman becomes an established character, whatever model she is, I am amazed at how the men always describe these women as so unearthly and unique. Maybe the authors are just romantics, plain and simple. And I would love to read something written by a woman, about a man, with the same kind of romantic bent on it. I wonder if I would believe it. But as a 26 year old [horny] romantic, I have thought in these terms about men and boys since I was 6. Always the sort of unique stuff you can’t put your finger on. So the material must be out there.
3.5/5

Flats of the day - Enmore.

2009-09-16T20:39:00.005+10:00

I love this building - a block of four apartments. You can see that the people who live there have an interest in exotic plants. The age and locality do not stop the occupants from taking pride in their environment, and nor should they.

The face-brick work is quite decorative, and it has feature courses which are a more red/orange colour than the main blue brick. Its not 'prestige' brickwork like you would see elsewhere in Sydney. The joints are starting to open up in some places. The side walls of the building are commons in a different colour; the nice expensive brickwork is where everyone can see it.

This building seems to be (to me, anyway,) a little oasis of peace and calm, in this busy section of the inner west.

Bikini-clad woman on King St.

2009-09-14T21:50:00.005+10:00

Outside the Townie! On Sunday afternoon. It was a hot day, but not that hot.

Houses in Enmore.

2009-09-13T21:00:00.022+10:00

Today I got a bus to Enmore to photograph some houses that have always interested me. I really dont know anything 'factual' about them. Theyre old, and all about the same age. Theyre all about the same size. All ground floor levels are about 1.5m above footpath level. They all have a bedroom opening up onto a balcony, on the front facade. It is clear that some of the plans are mirrored. Maybe the only difference between them is small details. I dare say theyre all built by the same person. This reminds me of something I came across at uni. I will touch lightly on this.

Borneo Island, Amsterdam. (A man-made island.) It is almost as if different architecture firms were responsible for the design of each 'house'. This isnt the case.

Something about this concept struck me as new, but really it isnt new. I suppose the nature of row houses dictates they are all built at the same time, thus similarity is inescapable.

Maybe what strikes me about Borneo is the scale at which the exercise is undertaken, a scale that would have been unprecedented say 250 years ago. Its a man-made peninsula; its faked. Like something you would see in Dubai. Faked organic growth.

Im not bagging Borneo out, I dont know enough about it to do that. I think the front elevations are beautiful. Am I allowed to say that? Is that a valid opinion? Probably not. Theyre eye-candy.

Anyway, back to Sydney now. I think the houses at Enmore are cool. Its just a pity theyre on such a busy road.

Standing on a scaffold at work.

2009-09-12T23:35:00.008+10:00

I took these photos (crooked, I know - I was worried more about my safety) standing on a scaffold at work. We are between two brick buildings. (Really?) One remaining as-is, on the neighbouring lot, and the other one being refurbished, which is the clean brickwork you can see. There is a problem with the new brickwork which I wont go into.

The photos dont communicate the claustrophobic nature of where we were standing (my boss is not pictured here.) Its about 700mm wall to wall, but the actual path to walk on is about 450mm wide. And its up about 10m in the air. You walk along the scaffold with nothing to hold onto, and then there'll be a big opening on one side, and its like "Oh, there's enough room for a body to fall through there." Its pretty scary.

There's also these huge bolts sticking out of the new brickwork, tying in the timber structure behind. My boss nearly took his eye out on one of these, and in doing so, lost his footing.

Birdie's bus-game on Elizabeth St

2009-09-11T21:38:00.008+10:00

I see the bird in the picture above, every morning on my way to work. These photos are taken on Elizabeth St in the city. This bird is called a 'Triller', I looked him up in a book. He looks like a Magpie but he's a lot smaller.

Anyway, as far as I can tell, he plays some sort of game with the buses that stop there. He flies to the front and back windows really quickly. Just when you think he's going to crash, he quickly brushes the glass with his wings and propels himself upwards, to come to rest on the roof of the bus.

Then he flies off again at a small distance, turns around and does this over and over again. If there is more than one bus there, he will fly between the two of them. When the bus starts to move, he leans forward, bracing himself against the inertia. When the bus starts to turn left, he then flies off the roof, and flies right across to the other side of Elizabeth St, where he plays this game again, but slightly modified, with the facade of an old office building (pictured behind.) He flies to and from the windows, and comes to rest on a moulded cornice underneath them. Then, after a couple of minutes of doing this, he flies back over to find more buses.

Im not sure if he sees it as a game, or if he thinks the buses are his friends, or toys? Or if he is actually having a love affair with the buses. It's common for birds to fall in love with non-birds; as a person with pet birds, this has happened right under my nose. It could all be entirely because he can see his own reflection.

Whatever it is, it's a clear indication of personality and 'cleverness.' It makes me smile every time I see him.

Jungle front yard

2009-09-08T22:08:00.004+10:00

This is a house I passed in Summer Hill.

Beer bottle lamp

2009-09-07T12:34:00.004+10:00

This is a light fitting made of Corona beer bottles, that was hung from the ceiling above our table at a Mexican restaurant in Darlinghurst.

Concrete soffit

2009-09-06T14:02:00.002+10:00

this is worth viewing at high res

Rooftop Jungle

2009-09-05T16:16:00.001+10:00

A pub (I think) in Darlinghurst.

Multi-coloured balustrade

2009-09-03T21:11:00.001+10:00

If this is what I think it is, (hand painted,) it must have taken that thoughtful and patient person hours. So creative. Who puts that much thought into the paint colours of an old balustrade? Especially in an old terrace on Wattle Street? Quite possibly a rental property? Or was it painted in manufacture?

Bad dinner.

2009-09-02T21:31:00.001+10:00

I dont post very often. Maybe the reasons for this are evident. There will be more gold from today onwards.

Shirts.

2009-07-28T22:06:00.001+10:00

Big Love: Nicolette 'Nicki' Grant's shirts. They are terrific. I need a couple for work.

Elizabeth St at 7:30am.

2009-07-20T21:34:00.002+10:00

How East Sydney is that.

2009-07-20T21:31:00.002+10:00

Coffee jacket

2009-07-12T19:54:00.002+10:00

The logo on this guy's jacket is that of Japanese 'Suntory Boss' coffee, which comes hot, in a can, from vending machines. The product is endorsed by Tommy Lee Jones.

Paddington

2009-06-21T12:38:00.002+10:00

I love this, its so beautiful and quirky - this terrace must be all of 4m wide. Look at the 3 pine trees trying to grow. This place must get almost no sunlight in the front windows.

Dictation

2009-06-16T20:20:00.001+10:00

I found this scrawled on a wall at work today. It will be tiled over in a week's time.

Flesh for my zine

2009-06-15T21:01:00.000+10:00

a concept store inspired by the “golden years of communism”.

2009-06-14T14:40:00.001+10:00

Its freezing today.

I will post some nice photos soon.