Reminiscence & Melancholia

I confess, I quite like rereading. It’s like visiting an old friend. It can help you see how you’ve changed since you last read a particular novel.

Most often, however, it's merely an enjoyable experience of revisiting a place which brings you feelings of contentment, happiness, or even a pleasant sense of melancholy.

It’s not always a good idea: sometimes a book’s initial impact is so profound that returning removes its power. Worse is when you find that you’ve changed so much since your initial reading, that you realise it wasn’t that great after all. You’ve outgrown the old friend.

An obvious example would be books one has read as a child that may seem ridiculous now (although, Dr Seuss really only makes more sense).

When I was really young I loved The Enchanted Forest (Faraway Tree, Moonface, slippery-dip, and those strange magical thingies they ate… what were they?).

At around eight and nine my favourites were James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Harriet the Spy (she had stationery! Mmmm); I think at seven I liked Ramona the Pest, Peanuts, and Betty and Veronica comics (the latter had to be a bad influence… And yes, Betty had the bigger bosom, but Veronica was better looking, so end of argument).

I consider returning to my childhood favourites sometimes - to reconnect with my inner child, reminisce – but what if I find they’re awful? My happy memories might be ruined.*

~~~

Anyhoo, I’m currently rereading Francoise Sagan’s Bonjour Tristesse. Don’t know why. It just stuck in my head for a while. (I own many hundreds of books so can easily pick up a tome at random – not so easy is when I have to move house. Bloody heavy.)

The introductory paragraph rather suits me today, so I shall share (this is a blog after all)**:

A strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the grave and beautiful name of sadness. In the past the idea of sadness always appealed to me, now I am almost ashamed of its complete egoism. I had known boredom, regret, and at times remorse, but never sadness. To-day something envelops me like a silken web, enervating and soft, which isolates me.

I like the simplicity of this novella. She was only eighteen when she wrote it so it has a sweet naivety to it (although not as much naivety as my writing at eighteen had, goddammit).

~~~

A happier rereading of late is from Katherine Mansfield’s short story Bliss (which you can read in full here):

What can you do if you are thirty and, turning the corner of your own street, you are overcome, suddenly by a feeling of bliss - absolute bliss! - as though you'd suddenly swallowed a bright piece of that late afternoon sun and it burned in your bosom, sending out a little shower of sparks into every particle, into every finger and toe? ...
Oh, is there no way you can express it without being "drunk and disorderly"? How idiotic civilisation is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle?

And then this afternoon, out of the misty-grey-blue, came the ringing chimes of The Sundays. Talk about reminiscing. Fitted the moment for me perfectly – happy melancholia. I love it when that happens.

~~~~~~~~~

* Well, I’ve looked back on the Archie comics, and they were mostly pretty awful. But, I knew that at the time and would try to weed out the wittier tales (yes, there were some). I must say that I’ll be fucked if I know what they saw in Archie though. Why didn’t that clever Veronica just let Betty have him? (Probably cause she was like most girls in high school and only did whatever would cause greatest pain to her girlfriends. …No. No issues!! Nothing to see here!) Maybe I related to the characters, as most of them were only children like me. Mind you, I really don’t think I need to look into it too much (I wonder if anyone’s done a PhD on the long-term effects of reading Archie comics in one’s formative years… There’s one about how bananas go black when you put them in the fridge, so… nuff said).

** Re today’s mood of melancholy: I will be kind enough not to reproduce Keats’ Ode on Melancholy for your bored perusal bemusement amusement. (No, no! go not to Lethe… PLEEEASE!!!) I know it by heart and often recite it to myself during times of stress… or insomnia. After such boasting I will also explain that I am only able to recite one other poem from memory (and it's shorter). Worse: I cannot recall a single dirty limerick.

I Kid(ney) You Not

Dutch kidney donor reality show:

DUTCH broadcaster BNN plans to air a television show next week in which a terminally ill woman will decide who out of three young patients will get her kidney.

Viewers will be able to advise the 37-year-old woman, known as Lisa, via text messages which of the candidates to pick, the Algemeen Dagblad newspaper said.

Hmmm...

Is it just me...? or is this not taking the "reality" show thing just a wee bit too far?

People are getting married this way, becoming a princess or pop star this way, being under house arrest with a bunch of strangers and watched in the shower, losing weight, having extensive plastic surgery to render themselves unrecognisable to their loved ones, putting lives at risk attempting to attain a car license (that they obviously shouldn't have)... so, what next? People choosing which desperately sick individual they will donate a kidney to whilst viewers vote and perspective 'donatees', and said viewers, watch and wait for the person to die?

Viewer: 'Wow, that chick's hot! I'm going to vote that she gets the kidney! Hopefully, this tragically ill woman will choose her and then kark it, so the babe will have the kidney and detach herself from those dialysis machines, and then we can go out!!! ... No!!! Don't vote for the fat chick!'

Apparently... yes.

UPDATE: "despite government calls for the programme to be scrapped" The Big Donorshow will still be aired this Friday. (BTW the Netherlands also created Big Brother.... And yet we invaded Iraq...)

Nothing like a good compromise

Right, well, got our answer quick enough: Ms Rein is selling up. The Australian arm of her business will be sold before the end of the year.

That should keep things happy in the Rudd household then, eh?

Ms Rein said it had been a difficult decision to sell the company she built from scratch 18 years ago.

But she said the debate about a possible conflict of interest if Labor wins ... had become acute.

“And there is nothing that I want to do which complicates the decision for the Australian people at the next election,” Ms Rein said.

“I have also now become convinced after deep and careful consultation and consideration over many months that it would be perceived to be improper for my company to receive even one dollar from an Australian federal budget if my husband were to be elected prime minister.”

Ms Rein said she would retain her ownership of, and involvement in, her company's international operations.

Ms Rein said she had become deeply concerned about the effect the intense scrutiny was having on her colleagues and staff.

Well, at least she's only selling the Australian part of her business...

Anyhoo... something that I did find just a wee bit unsettling:

“I also wish to make clear that my decision to recommend the sale ...would be implemented whether or not the Australian people elect Kevin as their next prime minister.”

Prime Minister... Kevin.

*shudder*

oh dear

Mrs Rudd vs Ms Rein

Does anyone else find all this fuss about Rudd’s Mrs’ business a bit ridiculous?

Mr Rudd has said that he and Ms Rein will discuss the future of her business ownership amid concerns it could lead to conflicts of interest should he become prime minister.

Can’t we see someone’s life-partner as a separate individual?

Would it really be that difficult for her to continue with HER OWN LIFE if he became PM? ‘Mrs Howard PM’ is not actively involved in a role as PM’s wife. So why should a ‘Mrs Rudd PM’ be?

(update) BTW I know the main concern is a conflict of interest with her company receiving government funding and being a major provider of retraining services to the federal Job Network. But, if she’s been receiving federal funding without her husband as PM, then why will anyone be alarmed if she receives it with him as PM?

If anything, Rudd and Rein will probably have to be over-cautious, in order to ensure it doesn’t look like her business is being favoured. In being PM and having family and friends, who are in all sorts of different life- and business-situations, there will always be conflicts of interest.

The reason they may decide to sell the business (or for Rein to resign as managing director) would most likely be because it will (and is) a great target for the Libs to have a go at when they want to ambush Labor’s industrial relations arguments, et cetera.

It is going to be an interesting weekend for them discussing this over their ‘cups of tea’.

I wonder if the potential stresses will be too much and she’ll pull out of her $175 million business? Not sure I would be able to. But then, would I want to put up with all that intense scrutiny upon my professional life?

I believe what it ought to come down to is setting a good example. If Rein decides she will pull out of her business (if/when Rudd becomes PM), she will be making it harder for any future PM’s wife, or husband, to stay in their business. Why not set a precedent? She’s pretty successful, so she surely enjoys a challenge… (end of ranting update… look, I could go on and on, be glad I stopped here)

And how did they manage to twist Rudd’s words into an insult against stay-at-home mums?

"Part of the reality we are dealing with here is this is the age of professional women who run their own companies, who have their own lives and are not simply the appendages of middle aged men," Mr Rudd said.

P.S.... Lib's. There may be hope for you yet:

But Mr Rudd said Mr Dutton was talking through his hat, and denied he was implying Mrs Howard was an appendage.

LOOKSIES! Dutton has a hat!
Does Howard know this?
Has he gots a wabbit too?!!

OMG!!!









(wabbit from here)

Aung San Suu Kyi

The world's only detained Nobel Peace laureate who has also won an MTV award.*

Comments from the last post revealed frustration with the dearth of inspiring politicians who are concerned about people; about social issues. And, as Ariel pointed out, not concerned with such things merely in order to buy some votes. So, I thought I'd take a gander at an inspirational and considerate politician, for a change.

Outstanding leaders appeal to the hearts of their followers. - (Source Unknown)

Laura Bush is currently encouraging Daw Aung San Suu Kyi's release on Sunday, which is when her detention will be under review... again. The military rulers of Burma (Myanmar, since 1989) didn’t let her out for the last review, so I doubt anyone’s getting their hopes up. [UPDATE: same again, another year.]

I also doubt that Laura Bush is going to be the one to change their minds.

Anyway, last time the militia released her they then attacked her: she was stuck in her car on a bridge for 6 days. Up to 100 of her supporters were killed. And so she was arrested again.

She’s been detained for a total of 11 years and 209 days now. There’s about 1,100 other political prisoners in Burma too, let's not forget.

Suu Kyi’s father played a major role in attaining Burma’s independence form the UK in 1943. That year he was also assassinated. Her mother was Burma’s ambassador to India in the 1960s. Suu Kyi’s British husband, Michael Aris, died of cancer in 1999. When he was first diagnosed he was denied an entry visa into Burma, so Suu Kyi never got to see him. Their two children currently live in Britain.

As you likely know, there was an uprising in Burma in 1988 when the people had become a bit fed up with their leader, Ne Win. He was a nutty old fart who dabbled in a bit of numerology and one day decided to change all their currency notes to denominations that were divisible by the number 9. (YA RLY.)

So, lots of people were killed by the government, but the people were nearly successful and were allowed to form political parties. Suu Kyi’s National League for Democracy easily won the election in 1990. A bit too easily. The army were rather unhappy about this unexpected outcome, and so changed its mind about all this political freedom rubbish. They ignored the result, held on to power, and instead of being PM, Suu Kyi stayed locked up (house arrest began July 1989).

It seems the Western world reckons it can force Burma into becoming a democracy through sanctions. Well, that’s not going to work cause they’re run by a militia, and most of the army doesn't care about that trading, economic shite nearly so much as national security.
Plus, China won’t agree with sanctions ‘cause they’re getting a shitload of natural gas from Burma and don’t want to lose such a major source of energy supplies. And really, as if China gives enough of a rats about democracy to martyr itself anyway!
Let’s say China and everyone did agree with tight sanctions on Burma. Then you’d have absolute chaos as everyone in the army would eventually get hungry, and then their blood sugar's low so they get all narky and really cross with each other, and we’d have insurgents here and drug warlord militias there, and it would just be plain nasty.

We tend to see Burma as a Velvet Revolution gone wrong, when in fact it is an impoverished war-torn society of 55 million people, half of them under the age of 18, with armed forces of more than 400,000 men (and over a dozen insurgent armies) who know only the language of warfare. - Thant Myint-U

If foreign business hadn’t pulled out of Burma in the 1990s, due to sanctions, they might have been able to develop a strong economy and perhaps their society could have gradually evolved into a democracy. Leaving them isolated is not encouraging social change or democracy. The US are a bit like conservative parents in the fifties: ‘Fine, if you’re not going to do what daddy wants then he’s taking the lollypop away until you learn to behave.’ Well, this kid’s fine to keep playing with his guns and stuff, fuck the lollypop. Do we look like we give a shit about the happiness of the people? Anyway, who do you think you are pushing us around? You big US bully you. Who in their right mind would trust you! Ya big ninny... (Or, something to that effect.)

All the neighbours need to get involved it seems. Put pressure on the kid to loosen his grip on the gun and play nice with the other kiddies. Develop the economy and evolve to a democracy.

“For 26 years Myanmar experienced impoverishment in the name of socialism; it now appears there is to be impoverishment in the name of democracy, (thanks in part to the misguided Western sanctions against our country)." - Dr. Khin Zaw Win, former Prisoner of Conscience (jail time 1994-2005) in 'Impoverishment as Freedom'

But, jeez, wouldn't it be nice for Suu Kyi to be out and about, and having her say? Maybe being able to spend time with her kids, and visit her husband’s grave...

Go get 'em Lazza!

*In 2003, “Free Your Mind” award, MTV Europe Music Awards.

B is for: Bee, Bunny, & Bums on seats

Sitting at my laptop this afternoon - trying to get some work done, but distracted by blogs, and my inquiry into how much John Howard has spent on comfy chairs [I’ll get to that later] – I was considering that the blurring of my vision meant I was in dire need of a break.

The universe apparently agreed with me: a bee dropped onto my keyboard.

I am proud to say that I did not squeal, or even flinch (of course, this may have been due to brain fatigue from not having said break).

Now, you may be picturing me sitting out in the sunshine, on soft green grass with a blossoming eucalypt towering above me, butterflies flitting about my head as the honeyeaters sing me a happy tune…

Alas, this is not the case.

Although that describes what is outside my window moderately well, I would feel quite a TOOL sitting cross-legged on the ground beside a rather busy road which connects several bus routes, with a laptop balanced precariously upon my thighs. (Nevertheless, I would greatly admire any individual who did have the cajones to do this.)

I am, of course, at my desk indoors so I haven’t the earthliest idea where my little winged friend has come from. He did not alight upon my keyboard; he dropped like a mini-bee-bomb, *plop*, and then stumbled about.

I am rather fond of bees. Although, I’ll admit to being a complete wuss about them as a child. (Quite rightly too, as when my arm firmly landed upon one whilst playing in my grandparents’ pool - they had a farm; it was scary; it had bees, snakes, large horses and too many rules at the dinner table - my arm promptly swelled to the width of a rugby player’s neck/head …same thing.)

I am a mature adult now (no snickering please), and I find watching bees quite relaxing. This did not mean I was going to let it stagger about my keyboard whilst I typed delicately around it, however.

Now, I don’t smoke, (so no durries, or even a smidgen of bud, in the place). But, I thought, at a time like this a lusty lungful of smoke would be just the thing to placate this bewildered bee.

Genius that I am, I lit an Orange & Clove stick of incense, which assisted in calming my nerves, and the zesty orange simultaneously kept my senses alert for any sudden bee-moves. I aimed the smoke at the bee (whilst trying to prevent the ash from dropping on my laptop).

Little bee shook his head about quite a bit at this new challenge. Maybe I should have lit a more sedative-type incense, such as Lavender, I thought. But no fear, I loosely lifted him up in a rag and carried him outside (placing him somewhere high so the ants wouldn’t end all my humanitarian work by slowly eating bits of him before he gathered his wits to fly again).

Hopefully, he’s now a happy bee.

(I, eventually, took that break… and had a beer – how apt if it had been a Beez Neez instead of a Corona; oh well.)

~~~~~~~

Finally, regarding those chairs for the dainty derrieres of Howard’s cabinet:

“John Howard is hitting taxpayers with a $250,000 bill for a set of luxury leather chairs for himself and his Cabinet colleagues. The chairs may also be supplied with sheepskin covers for added [butt] cushioning. … 56 luxury chairs, each costing $4464.”*

No wonder he can’t afford his dining room… with soft seats and $4million a week ($111 million total) on advertising (but not political advertising..…**).

Meanwhile…

Howard is on the lookout for bunnies:

“John Howard has told a meeting of Liberal and National MPs the polls show Labor would win emphatically.

He has warned if they are expecting him to pull a rabbit out of a hat, he does not have a rabbit.”

~~~~~~~

* ‘butt’ added by blog author. But it (butt) had to be said.

** What?! So it’s encouraging people to adopt a cat? …to be kind to their mothers? …to get ‘Ginger Ninja’ and his fellow workers – correction: ‘hobbyists’ – paid more than $50 for their Friday Night duties on Big Brother??? (Jeez he’s a caring sorta guy! All this advertising for our needs AND taking care of his cabinet members’ behinds!)

(Bee pic from Birdchick)

$540,000

John Howard’s proposed dining room extension:

“…which will allow Mr Howard to host 20 people rather than the 16 that can fit in the existing dining room.”

Contractor A: ‘You've gotta be bloody joking! Mate, you can’t charge him that!’

Contractor B: 'Nah. I reckon he'll go for it. Have you seen what he spends on advertising? The bloke’s loaded!’

BadMotor... BetterMotor

I must admit, I was in rather a foul and dark mood yesterday.

And, as I do when in such moods, I pull out ye olde Soundgarden (in this case BadMotorFinger - yes, I am old) and crank it so it feels the drums and bass are playing within my chest cavity and my ears squeal the remainder of the day.

I’m not usually so insulting to my neighbours, but really, you can’t listen to Soundgarden quietly.*

Anyway, Chris Cornell’s vocal emoting is hard to surpass (if only I could be a guy and sing like him! instead of my own soft and timid Tori Amos-type trillings). I must say, however, I do miss the days when he looked like this in vids.

It was of great assistance to my mood to hear Rusty Cage and Slaves & Bulldozers, but let’s face it, Jesus Christ Pose only ever sounds good when you’re driving.

Unfortunately, it was exceedingly more enjoyable in my last car, a sporty little turbo-charged coupe. It's no longer the same in my current (late model, reliable, but very much lacking in personality) sedan.

I have recently been considering going back to something with a bit more style. Some pizzazz.

What I’d really like (but would most likely feel too nauseated by the price to actually go ahead and purchase) is a Nissan 350 Z. Silver with the racing-yellow leather interior and sporty little gearstick. Mmmm.

Or, if I was going to be a good girl and consider the environment – yet maintain a shitload of style – I would go the new Honda SHS.

Oh. Yeah. Baby. Sheez purrty.

To stick with the motor theme, it was actually worth watching some (note: some) of the V8s today. (They’re usually too dull to watch any.) It was wet, and slippery as fack** and they were sliding every which direction. Really, that’s the only car racing worth watching, when there are just as many cars off the track as on; and there’s mud, water and bits of extraordinarily expensive car parts flying everywhere. Without that they’re just the ‘go rounds’ and about as lively as watching golf (or the grass grow… but that’s about the same thing).

Now, what I do watch is MotoGP (which is on tonight). Bikes are exiting cause the guys aren’t sitting inside something and racing, they’re sitting on something (enormously powerful and sexy-sounding) and leaning at very scary angles doing insane speeds. I only watch the GP however, cause the GP has Valentino (Vale) Rossi.

He’s entertaining even when he’s not on the bike.

I also like to keep an eye on our young Aussie boy, Casey Stoner. I feel quite maternal about him. The naughty lad used to have a habit of coming off his bike a bit too often (personally, for me, once would be too often. How his mother must worry!). But now he’s in the GP, and winning cause not only is he rather talented, but this year he’s got an extremely powerful Ducati. Good boy!

UPDATE: Stoner came third, but even better: Chris Vermulen (the other Aussie) came first! Hoorah! He appears to be the nicest guy in GP so this made me very happy. Rossi: at least three errors. (Fack - shall we blame the rain and tyres?)

*Although, when I saw them at the end of a too big Big Day Out they were massively loud. It was so painful I ended up retreating to the back before my organs exploded. And I found I kept on walking. (I stopped feeling a wuss about this when I heard that metal guy from Triple J walked out on them too, same reason - and he'd have toughened metal ears!)

**How MotoGP racer Valentino Rossi (mischievous little Italian boy) says ‘fuck’. Oh, he’s just so cute.

“Love and stoplights can be cruel.” (Sesame Street)

*whew*

Been a tough week.

I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top. – John Keats

But then...

I haven't taken an overdose of sleeping pills and called my agent. I haven't been in jail, and I don't go running to my psychiatrist every two minutes. That's something of an accomplishment these days. – Ava Gardner

Yes, I must remind myself that it could've been a worse week. I must be positive.

Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is against me, but deep down I know that's not true. Some smaller countries are neutral. (Robert Orben)

And, I ought to remember...

Brain cells create ideas.

Stress kills brain cells.

Stress is not a good idea. – Richard Saunders.

But, my brain cells, tragically, are very much deceased. Hence my need to use the quotations of others' in this post until my cognitive abilities revive themselves.

Never be afraid to laugh at yourself. After all, you could be missing out on the joke of the century." - Dame Edna Everage

Bob has a Black Soul*

*(and I don’t mean in a James Brown, ‘get up, get on up’ funky kinda way; I mean in a ‘get down and stay down or I’ll cut your nuts off’ kinda way.)

I’ve had a hard day.

Some Zimbabwean Government officials came over to my house earlier and bashed me about the head for being racist.

Apparently my earlier portrayal of Robert Mugabe as laughing in an “evil, woo-har-har-haa” manner was a despicable and flagrant display of typical Aussie racism.

I said, ‘No, you’ve got it all wrong! If Bob was a white guy we’d be much meaner to him, cause then we wouldn’t have to worry about being labelled as racist!’

They promptly biffed me round the head a bit more.

Then they burnt my veggie patch, kicked the cat (the neighbour’s thank goodness), and left.

*sigh*

One of Those Days

This is how I'm feeling today:





*whimper*

*sigh*

“You certainly are not yourself today.”

“I so seldom am,” said Cecelia.

- Elizabeth Bowen

(Bunny nabbed from Disapproving Rabbits.)

Bits & Pieces (concerning harlots, breathless ejaculations; and muddy salamanders)

No one else may be interested, but today I was happy to learn that ‘mob’ is short for mobile vulgus (fickle crowd). I think it would be lovely to revert to using the full term again; it has much more charm.

John Howard: What’s all that bloody carry on I can hear? What a ruckus.

Peter Costello: Prime Minister, do not concern yourself, it is merely a mobile vulgus.

John Howard: Well, Pete, it’s just not cricket.

Robert Mugabe: [evil: Woo-ha-har-haa!] Not cricket eh, Johnny? That’ll be $2million. And if you need advice on how to deal with an angry mobile vulgus…

Today I also learnt that philippic is a verbal denunciation, a tirade. All because Demosthenes let it be known that he was not overly fond of some bloke called Philip (King of Macedon), back in 4^th century BC.

More trivia: Shakespeare created about 1,700 words.

These include: critical, leapfrog, monumental, castigate, majestic, obscene, frugal, radiance, dwindle, as well as excellent, fretful, gust, lonely and pedant.

Initially harlot referred to a boy.

In Chaucer’s time a girl was any young person, male or female.

I have learnt much of this via the scintillating Bill Bryson, who wrote that “Politician was originally a sinister word (perhaps, on second thoughts, it still is).” [I was there at first thoughts myself.]

I have found it quite useful to learn was that the word nice has meant many things over many years. In its first recorded use in 1290 it meant stupid and foolish. Several decades later Chaucer used it to mean lascivious and wanton. It changed throughout the next 400 years to mean extravagant, elegant, strange, slothful, unmanly, luxurious, modest, slight, precise, thin, shy, discriminating, and dainty. By 1769 it meant pleasant and agreeable.

Makes it tough in retrospect to know what writers' intentions were. For example, Jane Austin wrote in a letter: You scold me so much in a nice long letter…

We obviously need to be mindful of possible changes in definition as we read distantly written passages such as in Dickens’ ‘Bleak House’: Sir Leicester leans back in his chair, and breathlessly ejaculates.

My happiest recent discovery was revealed to me within the Macquarie definition of an olm. What is an olm, you may ask? Well, I am happy to reply that it is a mud puppy.*

So now you know.

* OK, the rest of you are probably cleverer than me and know that mud puppy is just another name for salamander. Well I didn't. So stop showing off. Anyway, I think the name is irresistibly endearing. Mud puppy! That's so cute. (Yes, yes... Flanellette sheets and knowledge of mud puppies - I am easily pleased.)

UPDATE, June 2008 (don't say I'm not thorough! ...occasionally).

Anon has corrected my interweb-researched knowledge of the appearance of a mud puppy. *sniff*

The above pic is similar to this one...

...of 'two mature white axolotls'.

Cute!

So, I've discovered real mud puppies, actually aren't so cute:

Although... they do seem to be more fond of flamboyant fashion accessories!

Apparently the same confusion applies for water dogs, which are just the larval stage blah blah blah... Both terms are used a lot for various things, various salamanders and axolotls. They're inaccurate but commonly used terms.

It's all very complex.

Some knowledgeable person says:

A mudpuppy is exclusively referring to a permanently aquatic animal from the eastern United States (Necturus spp., generally maculosus). They have four toes on each foot. They are also sometimes called waterdogs.

On the same page, we can see a lot of people get upset about these things:

I've worked in a petstore. Let me tell you!!! If it has gills and legs (some times even fins) people will tell you its a mudpuppy. Most of America seems to think a mudpuppy, waterdog, larval salamander & axolotl are the same creature. I've gotten into arguements about whether or not axolotls morph and if larval salamanders morph. YUP. Its frustrating.

I even once asked my boss to order some axolotls for me and I CAREFULLY explained the difference. I wound up with three very nice larval tiger salamanders. I kept one and passed the others on to friends.

:::sigh:::: where is the education?

And I don't blame them!

But, 'mud puppy' is such a cute name! No wonder its ubiquity has been encouraged. In fact, I think I'll call my next cat 'Mud Puppy'.... or, my next axolotl 'Fluffy'...

Budget Smudget – what about my sheets!

Look, Perth isn’t exactly cold (I mean, I’ve been to both Canada and Canberra so I know cold, wo-ho, oh yes, let me tell you, yes siree sonny).

But, it’s ridiculously 29 degrees here today!

However, I haven’t let that put me off…

…my bed now is lovingly dressed with new flannelette sheets. Cosy bliss. I’ve never owned any before. I think I’ve never had such furry, friendly sheets because I’ve always lived with a furry, friendly male.

My flannelette sheets are my new best friend.

(Be off you male admirers, I hath no need of thee!)

*snuggle* *sigh*

"Deep down, I'm pretty superficial." (Ava Gardner)

Good News & Bad News

Bad News: There's a petition to save Paris Hilton from going to jail.

Good News: There a petition to send Paris Hilton to jail!

Hooray!

For the record: I think Paris Hilton is about as annoying as Greensleeves blaring from a passing ice-cream truck (I have yet to live somewhere not on the route of a Mr Whippy).

They’re both ubiquitous and really, really annoying.

(And unhealthy… and brightly coloured… and full of sugar and artificial substances.)

Eyes on the box (no, not that one)

Yesterday’s ‘drivel dvd’ was V for Vendetta. It was good as long as V sounded like Rowan Atkinson (re snooty Blackadder voice). Less amusing once I reminded myself it was Hugo Weaving behind the mask.

Hearing ‘The Girl From Ipanema’ was another highlight.

Watched ‘The Machinist’ today. I’m still recovering.

It’s supposed to be “Fight Club meets Memento”, two films I love. But this was just… eew! He’s way too skinny, and it was so crazy I felt I was going nutty myself (well, nuttier). Why make it? This isn’t entertainment, it’s torture!

One gruesome scene (you know which I mean if you’ve seen it) was extra yucky cause it reminded me of an erstwhile friend who’d lost part of his arm in a sugar cane thrasher cutting thinga-ma-jiggy. He was attempting to dislodge something using a long stick and couldn’t be bothered taking the time to turn the machine off first.

He has the apt sobriquet of Lefty.

The other day I had a much more enjoyable experience (documentary this time) revisiting the life and art of Frida Kahlo - she of the most beautiful monobrow. (And I recommend the movie if you haven’t already seen it. I mean, who doesn’t like Salma Hayek??)

Most tragic in Frida’s life was the accident she was in when only 16. A tram hit the bus she was in. The bus split apart. Frida ended up naked and impaled by a handrail (who a guy on the street yanked out of her), her body shattered. She was covered in gold dust which had been carried by a labourer on the bus and now adhered to her bloody body. Pretty horrible stuff. A few years back I went to see a play about her. My then husband was with me and when the accident scene came up so did his dinner – he just managed to control it thank goodness. (I probably should tell him not to see The Machinist...)

Anyway, the image of her, impaled and covered in gold dust, makes me understand why she was so influenced by religious art. I was ‘raised’ Catholic (I have since ‘left’ my faith, but of course I feel very GUILTY about it!), and the art’s pretty gruesome. So is some of Frida’s art, but it helped her to deal with her tortured body.

Her husband was Diego Rivera. He was an ugly sod but popular with the ladies. She became interested in him romantically when he shot a phonograph. As you do. (Here’s a lesson for you guys, get a ‘pistol’ and shoot a ‘phonograph’. That’ll have ‘em lining up!)

Well, enough rambling. I’m off to the oldies’ for dinner now. Off to the sanity of my family to remove the clinging nuttiness of the Machinist.

Actually, it will just be replaced with a different nuttiness. More of the fruitcake variety than the nutcake.

And it’s an excuse to drink a nice bottle of Cab Sav which I have held for such an occasion.

Cheers!

I got home and my Voodoo doll was dead

If you’ve heard the joke you’ll realize that I went to the acupuncturist today.

It was rather relaxing this time, not so many pins but much moxibustion and massage, which has resulted in my brain turning to mush and a funny glazed look about me (which, unfortunately, is not unusual).

Of course I had to rush there as I have a tendency to be late. Well, by that I mean I’m usually running late and so drive my car like I stole it and often arrive on time - although somewhat out of breath and dishevelled (a good look for Kate Moss, so why can’t it work for me..?).

I blame it on my inability to stay grounded (the tardiness I mean).

I’ve been told I’m ‘out of my body’ a lot (disappointingly, although I’m obviously in some separate ‘spirit’ world, I have as yet been unable to attain the knack of connecting with the dead – so no travelling round the world making scads of cash entertaining the masses with “Do you know someone who’s name begins with T? Yes, someone in this group of 50 to my left...”). So, if I’m not in my body how can I be responsible for getting it somewhere dense and earthly on time? I mean really.

Anyhoo, my mushy brain and I are going to sprawl upon the couch now and gaze in a stupor upon some drivel of a dvd. Ahh...

Greetings!

Well, here we are then. Not much to see here yet but I'm in no rush, are you?

It will be interesting, for me at least (I have low expectations for the rest of you I'm afraid), to see how this blog progresses. I expect it will be rather haphazard and a bit of a hodgepodge of postings to start with. Never mind. It will get there in the end. But where? I do not know... and if it doesn't, then I shall put it out of its misery. Poor baby blog - I hope you grow and prosper and are nourished by much good will and endless introspections, ramblings, articles of interest, souvenirs of Eleanor's random readings and (unfortunate, but sure to be true) many mindless ravings...

I would tell you more about me. But really, what's the point? We both know you're rather bored already, and really of course I'm just likely to lie. And what's the fun of that?
Well, probably quite a lot of fun! But I'm none too good at lying so I will leave it to the experts.

Instead I shall now put up my feet, peruse the national broadsheet, and have a nice cup of tea.

Who says the Germans have no sense of humour?

Has anyone noticed that news coming out of Germany has been a bit strange lately?


Obviously a very amusing place in which to reside... I know these tickled my fancy - during a rather torpid week for my fancy - so I'm feeling slightly grateful to the Germans (also because I like saying 'scheisse!' - an expletive likely to have been used by the farmer, the thief, and the bank manger... see below).

Pregnant cow runs riot across city

Tue Apr 24, 2007 8:34AM EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - A pregnant cow being chased by police and fire fighters caused 25,000 euros ($33,900) of damage on a three-hour rampage through the German city of Hanover.

Uschi escaped from a farm late Monday and became increasingly violent as she encountered shocked drivers and pedestrians in the city.

Pursued by the farmer, television camera crews and 30 police and fire fighters, the Charolais cow lashed out at cars, benches, garden fences and whatever else got in her way during the 5-km chase, authorities said.

After more than three hours on the loose, Uschi was brought down by tranquilizer darts, without harming her unborn calf, fire services spokesman Martin Argendorf said Tuesday.

"She probably won't remember any of it when she wakes up again. But the farmer will, because he's going to have to pay damages of about 25,000 euros," he said.

Thief betrays himself to get free beer

Fri Apr 27, 2007 1:32PM EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German phone thief led police right to his front door when they called the stolen mobile to say he had won some free beer and he willingly gave his address.

"An officer called and said, 'You've won a crate of beer'," said a spokesman for police in the eastern town of Neustrelitz Friday.

"Then he asked where he lived so he could drop the beer off, and the guy told him. I think the man was drunk."

Drunk deposits horse in bank for night

Wed Apr 25, 2007 11:24AM EDT

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German man called on his bank for an unusual service when he was too tired and drunk to go home -- he bedded down there for the night with his horse.

The man, identified as Wolfgang H. by German media, went to sleep next to cash machines in the local branch of the Mittelbrandenburgische Sparkasse in Wiesenburg southwest of Berlin after unsaddling his horse Sammy and closing the door.

A spokeswoman for the bank said that aside from an undesirable deposit made by his horse inside the building, the 40-year-old account holder had not breached any house rules.

"The horse was otherwise very well behaved and kept a good watch on his master," she said Wednesday. "Perhaps we should have a supply of oats and water on the premises in future."

Another customer discovered the horse and rider as he slept and informed police, who asked the man to leave.

A police spokesman said that since the horse's droppings had been removed, the matter was now closed.