Wednesday, February 18, 2009
I'm fairly sure we're all reasonably aware of the situation and we've all given what we can.
Is it just me or was there a note of disappointment in the newsreader's voice when he stated that the death toll is unlikely to rise above the current figure of 201?
Can I unkindly suggest that should my house burn down and we were found to be uninsured I'm fairly sure no-one would give a flying fuck and blame us for our own stupidity? Not sure why this sentiment doesn't apply in these sorts of situations. Would there be a telethon for us?
Will the media claim ownership should the arson suspect currently in protective custody be torn limb from limb either by fellow inmates or by the public upon his release? Has the concept of innocent until proven guilty lost all meaning? From my point of view we know almost nothing about this man and the situation (apart from the frenzied hype we're getting from the media - the "journalists" I so highly esteemed in my youth) yet my own husband is ready to rip his arms off and shove them where only a proctologist dares to go.
I don't begrudge the victims of these terrible events a cent and I feel for those who have lost lives and property in this disaster. But I feel we are somewhat like Pavlov's dog, responding because it is on our tv screens. The world is full of tragedies which we are happy to ignore because they are not being fed to us on a minute by minute basis, the awful images rammed down our throats with no reprive. I guess it is unfair of me to expect things to be different. I am just thinking out loud really.
Last week saw the "celebration" of the one year anniversary of Sorry Day here in the land of Oz.
I am deeply surprised and shocked that nothing has changed for the general welfare of the Aboriginal people in Australia. A magical solution hasn't presented itself overnight or even during the course of a year. Who could have predicted that?
Personally I think the welfare state scenario is working well for them and should be maintained. If it ain't broke why fix it.
For fuck's sake no-one dare mention that drinking your dole cheque away and neglecting your children in a systematic manner at the public's exepense is not an acceptable way to live. I mean "we" caused this mess and therefore it is noble of the Aboriginal people to spend their lives and sacrifice those of their children in exemplifying for "us" exactly how badly they were treated during the past 200+ years.
Would it be unreasonable of me to suggest that in the year that a black man has become president of the United States we could put some of that old bullshit behind us and just ask that ALL Australian citizens be asked to utilise the opportunities and possibilities afforded to them to the best of their personal abilities, no matter what colour? And furthermore that "white" Australians stop making excuses for what is so obviously a miserable situation that isn't helping anyone lead happy lives.
How will things ever truly improve otherwise?
Oh, the bliss. I know it's probably wrong on many levels for an (almost) 41 year old married mother of two (as I would undoubtedly be described in a newspaper article commenting on my demise or imminent jail sentence) to get so much sheer joy from a very old, grainy, probably dated movie featuring a transvestite and a lobotomised Meatloaf.
But I do get an immense amount of pleasure from this movie, each and every time I see it. And I've seen it many, many times. I love all the songs and knowing every word and singing along. I love Tim Curry as Frank'n'Furter. He is camp heaven on a stick. It represents my youth and all the weird parts of my personality which are buried deep under my conservative working mum facade.
Long live The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Monday, February 09, 2009
This summer has been hot and we have spent almost each afternoon and many hours on the weekends in our pool. Last week she decided she didn't want to wear her bubble any more. I told her that was fine but she wouldn't be allowed to go into the deep end. We talked about having some swimming lessons before she could swim in the deep end by herself. She seemed happy with that for a few days.
On Thursday afternoon she told me she could go into the deep end because she could swim. I said "sure you can" but she insisted that she could. So I humoured her and went into the deep end with her. Well, blow me down, but somehow she has learnt to swim on her own... in the deep end... with no bubble.
Marianna is one determined, strong minded little 3 1/2 year old. She thinks things through and does whatever it takes to achieve her aims. It does make her a difficult child to parent at times but it makes my motherly heart flutter and ache at the possibilities life may have in store for her.
Something terrible has happend to this noble profession in these past 30 years since that dream was so meaningful to me. I can barely watch a news bulletin or read a newspaper article these days. My blood boils and an awful desire to throw a brick through the tv and/or shove the newspaper into the specific editor's back passage overwhelms me.
Not only is the grammar and punctuation horrible, the use of apostrophes beyond belief, but the sensationalism used in each and every article and news story is truly pathetic and degrading.
I could write a daily post on the subject. I won't. But here is an example from the weekend. I was watching one of the many news updates about the Victorian fires on Saturday when the reporter said: "We were expecting the worst day in bushfire history but it was even worse than that."
I'll leave you to ponder that particular combination of words.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
There is something about Obama which encourages hope, even in a dried up old cynic like me. Hope is wonderful but when it comes from politicians it is also pointless. It will only lead to tears and bitter disappointment.
I so want to hope that something better [define and discuss] is possible but I just know it's only a matter of time before he is caught selling arms to Iran or in bed with a Brazillian transvestite prostitute and a goat.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Monday, February 02, 2009
Last night I sat at the feet of Mr Leonard Cohen. Yes, that's right. FRONT ROW. CENTRE.
(That's him, right there in front of me. The elderly gent with his hat and his gentle smile and his beautiful words.)
In the immortal words of one C. Bing, OH. MY. GOD.
I don't think I have the words to really describe what the evening was like. Superb. Magical. Amazing. All good words but so inadequate.
The great man did a lot of skipping, surpisingly more than I would have expected from a man his age. His voice has also improved so much since his younger days, for which I am truly thankful.
We took Will with us (as my dad, who was meant to be coming, couldn't go - long story). Will knows many Leonard Cohen songs (doesn't every 9 year old?) as I so often listen to the I'm Your Man CD in the car (and it's also on his MP3 player, which used to be mine). So it was rather sweet to see my gorgeous big boy, eyes glued to the great man, singing along to Everybody Knows and If It Be Your Will (which I think he thinks is about him).
Paul Kelly (the singer, not the great ex-Swans player) was the main support act and he was brief but wonderful. Sadly he didn't do [Have You Ever Seen] Sydney from a 747 [at night] which would be my favourite song of his. He was simply on the stage with his rather hunky son Dan Kelly and it was quite a special little acoustic set.
However, the extra, super douper bonus of the evening were The Triffids as the first support act. As we were waiting to take our seats - in the FRONT ROW. CENTRE - they did Wide Open Road. Holy shit that's a fabulous song. I didn't even know they were going to be playing so it was a wonderful surprise. For me it was like knowing you were about to pick up your brand new convertible, white leather seats and all, and then getting to the showroom and having it driven out for you by Robbie Williams. In the nude. That's how good it was.