oh hooray. another movie. my average must be approaching one a quarter. and, strangely enough given my stated preferences and tendency to hide my eyes behind my hands when there's blood on the screen, another very violent one. No Country for Old Men; you don't need me to tell you it's good; none of the reviews I've read, however, noted the originality of the dialogue and the depth of characterisation even for minor players. seeing that has certainly moved Cormac McCarthy's The Road up in my 100-book pile of to-reads.
speaking of: have embarked on the second reading (25 years later) of Henry Handel Richardson's Australia Felix. I'm gradually coming out of denial about the gold rush being quite an interesting period; well, you try growing up with compulsory weekly excursions to Sovereign Hill and general Ballarat gold-obsession. yesterday I poked around some abandoned mine shafts at Yapeen; it's strange to think of all the people that once swarmed over that empty bush; I even caught myself scanning the ground for that fat gold nugget that several thousand people before me had missed. but it wasn't there. :(
and just btw, as comments are closed, but I know that Watcher is a well-read blog: this Jennifer Sinclair is not me. I think I've said it before. but I'd just like to say it again, as Watcher has pretty much summed up my general objections to the article in question. but not to my sharing a name (almost) with the author.
and the real question of the day: should I start another blog? this one is kind of personal ramblings; my current writing blog is just writing ramblings; I'm thinking of one where I could post completed works. yes, the ratio of rejections to acceptances is starting to drive me crazy; I'm in danger of missing the days when the ravenous Age published every word I could bash out. not that that was necessarily a good thing.
or maybe I should just roll all the blogs together and start labelling. so those interested in my surfing progress could skip the whinges about Melbourne uni, and anyone who cares to read my writing could avoid accounts of how cute my child is. have I mentioned how cute my child is?
:P
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Fridays are Mummy Days at the moment. Today seemed a particularly long one, possibly due to the prone form of Daddy lying in the bedroom having a sick day off work while I cleaned, cooked and amused the child. Fortunately there was a visit from the grandparents to break up the uninterrupted joy of motherhood.
reading: David Sedaris. If I'd been born gay and Greek in the American midwest, I could be achingly funny too.
so after the grandparents were seen off, the kid was in bed and the husband driven out of my space by my objection to his turning the a/c off while I was working in the kitchen, I thought I'd top off the day with a trip to the supermarket. and as often happens, once out of the house there was no stopping me. First the Vegie Bar for good vegan apple crumble and surly service, then the lovely Brunswick St Bookstore: le cour de la citie, c'est commerce, or similar, as Sedaris would mangle it. I bought another of his books - just finished Me Talk Pretty One Day - among others, and took some schadenfreudian (???) pleasure in coming across a book of poetry by my ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, the one before me. now, I have mostly given up poetry, or at least attempting to publish it. and she sure should have. there were poems in there about my dog, or anyway the one she passed on to the ex and me. then there was one dedicated to the actual ex, with salacious lines about thrusting. erk. no names, no pack drill, but erk. I still have a tape of this woman describing the ex as something unprintable - she saw fit to leave the message on my answerphone, so I saw fit to keep the tape - I guess time must have softened her view. although, you know what? she was right the first time.
reading: David Sedaris. If I'd been born gay and Greek in the American midwest, I could be achingly funny too.
so after the grandparents were seen off, the kid was in bed and the husband driven out of my space by my objection to his turning the a/c off while I was working in the kitchen, I thought I'd top off the day with a trip to the supermarket. and as often happens, once out of the house there was no stopping me. First the Vegie Bar for good vegan apple crumble and surly service, then the lovely Brunswick St Bookstore: le cour de la citie, c'est commerce, or similar, as Sedaris would mangle it. I bought another of his books - just finished Me Talk Pretty One Day - among others, and took some schadenfreudian (???) pleasure in coming across a book of poetry by my ex-boyfriend's ex-girlfriend, the one before me. now, I have mostly given up poetry, or at least attempting to publish it. and she sure should have. there were poems in there about my dog, or anyway the one she passed on to the ex and me. then there was one dedicated to the actual ex, with salacious lines about thrusting. erk. no names, no pack drill, but erk. I still have a tape of this woman describing the ex as something unprintable - she saw fit to leave the message on my answerphone, so I saw fit to keep the tape - I guess time must have softened her view. although, you know what? she was right the first time.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
What do you do when you've tidied up your study, packed away all the 2007 calendars, re-sorted the unread books piles, written a list of places to submit work and connected up the new keyboard you got for Christmas?
Right. You blog. Consider this my official procrastination blog for 2008.
Year began well with a brilliant camping week at Cape Conran, though there wasn't much surf (didn't I mention I was learning to surf? maybe that's because I haven't been blogging for months). It has not progressed all that well, though, with the sudden death of my cousin, who has a three-year-old son and was one year older than me. Of course it won't sink in until the funeral; and of course it's wrong to think this way, as I'm alive; but her death has hit me that little bit harder because her boy is now in the situation I was afraid my son would be in when I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. The parallels in our lives are strong; same age, late motherhood via IVF - but this is one parallel I didn't foresee. And there will be a funeral.
These are issues I might not have blogged before; among my new years' resolutions is to consolidate all my thinking. so bloggety blog may reactivate in 08.
other resolutions include not assuming the worst of people's motivation until I'm sure of them (springing from a few times recently I've flown off the handle unfairly) and to take all my vitamins. health and fitness are under control, due to my obsessive nature; in the past three months there have been 3 (three) days I have not ridden my bike, and I'm averaging 6 ks a week in the pool. and there's the surfing, which seems more likely to damage me in some violent way than to make me fitter.
and of course there is the question of writing/work, in an environment where there is plenty of paid work. with one uni subject to go and three days' kindy, I could easily start freelancing again. or I could get my teeth into the writing. I would prefer the latter; which brings me back to the big study-tidy, which has given me a relatively clean and clear space not full of kids' toys, washing and other distractions. possibly that can be a final resolution; to keep this space available and active for what I'm really trying to do, as opposed to the things that make claims on my time.
Right. You blog. Consider this my official procrastination blog for 2008.
Year began well with a brilliant camping week at Cape Conran, though there wasn't much surf (didn't I mention I was learning to surf? maybe that's because I haven't been blogging for months). It has not progressed all that well, though, with the sudden death of my cousin, who has a three-year-old son and was one year older than me. Of course it won't sink in until the funeral; and of course it's wrong to think this way, as I'm alive; but her death has hit me that little bit harder because her boy is now in the situation I was afraid my son would be in when I was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. The parallels in our lives are strong; same age, late motherhood via IVF - but this is one parallel I didn't foresee. And there will be a funeral.
These are issues I might not have blogged before; among my new years' resolutions is to consolidate all my thinking. so bloggety blog may reactivate in 08.
other resolutions include not assuming the worst of people's motivation until I'm sure of them (springing from a few times recently I've flown off the handle unfairly) and to take all my vitamins. health and fitness are under control, due to my obsessive nature; in the past three months there have been 3 (three) days I have not ridden my bike, and I'm averaging 6 ks a week in the pool. and there's the surfing, which seems more likely to damage me in some violent way than to make me fitter.
and of course there is the question of writing/work, in an environment where there is plenty of paid work. with one uni subject to go and three days' kindy, I could easily start freelancing again. or I could get my teeth into the writing. I would prefer the latter; which brings me back to the big study-tidy, which has given me a relatively clean and clear space not full of kids' toys, washing and other distractions. possibly that can be a final resolution; to keep this space available and active for what I'm really trying to do, as opposed to the things that make claims on my time.
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