Tracking
I suppose I ought to post my progress training for the marathon here, but it’s still early days. In fact, looking more carefully at my calendar, I discovered that I’m only now in Week One, so I’m a week ahead of schedule, having hewn to the Hal Higdon method’s recommended mileage last week. My clever little spreadsheet, which converts Hal’s mileage to kilometres, is apparently too clever by half, since I was recording distances covered last week in the next week’s row. Well, no harm in being more conditioned for the big day.
Which reminds me of something one of the other runners here said about days off: they’re “scheduled deconditioning” days. Makes being lazy sound better, doesn’t it?
22 May 2008
16 May 2008
News
So, I’m in the new flat (week four) and the new job (week three) and have now newly enrolled for the Sydney Marathon – 21 September, if anyone’s interested – which I’m newly training for (week one; nothing much happened last week)
The new flat is working out well. I got the dryer installed finally, although it’s a little problematic, in that the space allocated in the laundry for me means I’ve only got one tap hook-up (I only ever use cold anyway) and it sits too love above my top-loading washer to get the lid all the way up. Since the washer is only a couple of years old, I’m not replacing it anytime soon, even if front-loaders are more efficient. I do still need to replace the basin in the bathroom, though, which the previous owners had cracked. It’s not bad, either looking or insofar as leakage is concerned, but a new one was purchased and sits in its box in the hallway, just waiting for me to stumble over it in the dark. And I’ve never lived anywhere darker since that basement apartment in Ann Arbor. Daytime’s not bad, but I’m not there in daylight much, especially as we head into winter. Luckily, it’s not cold.
Meanwhile, the cats have worked out the pet door and are off enjoying the great outdoors, what there is of it. The upstairs cat, who goes from window to next-door-rooftop direct, is not happy to find new competition for exploration rights.
The new job is demanding. I’m here at eight and don’t leave until five or later. This is partly due to the demands of learning the new software and new company and partly due to the fact that I need to run three days during week for the marathon training (yes, I am using the Counsellor’s recommended Hal Higdon method, although one of my colleagues, also in training for the marathon, is using their official novice’s program; insofar as we coincide with our schedules, we’re mapping out routes in the vicinity using Map My Run).
The buses are terrible. Mornings aren’t so bad, although it’s always a scramble for boarding before the seats are all taken, and the seats are cramped anyway. Nights, however, are where it all comes apart. If the bus arrives, instead of sailing by, either full or “Not in Service”, it’s almost always not the one that takes the freeway, which means an extra twenty minutes or more travel time, winding through the northern suburbs. It would be a lot easier if their signage was better illuminated and larger. And once we get to the CBD, it’s a crawl to the last stop, where I transfer to a George Street line, where there are no bus lanes, so we contend with all the rest of the traffic (and not to complain unduly, but also with every other businessperson trying to make their way west).
That all will change, eventually. The Chatswood-to-Epping project is underway (as it has been nearly since I got to this country – which sounds like a longer period than it’s been) and due to finish sometime this year, theoretically. I’ve heard that they used the wrong glue on the vibration-reduction matting under the rails and had to tear them up to start over, but I don’t know if the 2008 schedule is still, ahem, on track. The North Ryde station is five minutes away, so I’m anxious they should finish. There looks to be a fair bit of work yet to go, though.
So, I’m in the new flat (week four) and the new job (week three) and have now newly enrolled for the Sydney Marathon – 21 September, if anyone’s interested – which I’m newly training for (week one; nothing much happened last week)
The new flat is working out well. I got the dryer installed finally, although it’s a little problematic, in that the space allocated in the laundry for me means I’ve only got one tap hook-up (I only ever use cold anyway) and it sits too love above my top-loading washer to get the lid all the way up. Since the washer is only a couple of years old, I’m not replacing it anytime soon, even if front-loaders are more efficient. I do still need to replace the basin in the bathroom, though, which the previous owners had cracked. It’s not bad, either looking or insofar as leakage is concerned, but a new one was purchased and sits in its box in the hallway, just waiting for me to stumble over it in the dark. And I’ve never lived anywhere darker since that basement apartment in Ann Arbor. Daytime’s not bad, but I’m not there in daylight much, especially as we head into winter. Luckily, it’s not cold.
Meanwhile, the cats have worked out the pet door and are off enjoying the great outdoors, what there is of it. The upstairs cat, who goes from window to next-door-rooftop direct, is not happy to find new competition for exploration rights.
The new job is demanding. I’m here at eight and don’t leave until five or later. This is partly due to the demands of learning the new software and new company and partly due to the fact that I need to run three days during week for the marathon training (yes, I am using the Counsellor’s recommended Hal Higdon method, although one of my colleagues, also in training for the marathon, is using their official novice’s program; insofar as we coincide with our schedules, we’re mapping out routes in the vicinity using Map My Run).
The buses are terrible. Mornings aren’t so bad, although it’s always a scramble for boarding before the seats are all taken, and the seats are cramped anyway. Nights, however, are where it all comes apart. If the bus arrives, instead of sailing by, either full or “Not in Service”, it’s almost always not the one that takes the freeway, which means an extra twenty minutes or more travel time, winding through the northern suburbs. It would be a lot easier if their signage was better illuminated and larger. And once we get to the CBD, it’s a crawl to the last stop, where I transfer to a George Street line, where there are no bus lanes, so we contend with all the rest of the traffic (and not to complain unduly, but also with every other businessperson trying to make their way west).
That all will change, eventually. The Chatswood-to-Epping project is underway (as it has been nearly since I got to this country – which sounds like a longer period than it’s been) and due to finish sometime this year, theoretically. I’ve heard that they used the wrong glue on the vibration-reduction matting under the rails and had to tear them up to start over, but I don’t know if the 2008 schedule is still, ahem, on track. The North Ryde station is five minutes away, so I’m anxious they should finish. There looks to be a fair bit of work yet to go, though.
14 May 2008
Jasper Johns: Watch Out Crossing the Street
Robert Rauschenberg is one of a small pantheon of modern artists whom I revere. I’d probably revere more of them if I could remember them all, but never mind.
I remember the first retrospective show I saw, at MOMA, including the fabulous “Bed” and “Obelisk”, among many others I knew largely from books. A later show at the Guggenheim was somehow less compelling, and consisted largely, if not exclusively, of more recent work (so I guess not so much a retrospective).
Anyway, I guess that signed screen print of the Talking Heads “Speaking in Tongues” limited edition cover art I’ve got up on the wall just got a little more valuable. After David Byrne departs this mortal coil, it ought to be an eBay killer, but I only wish him well, really.
Robert Rauschenberg is one of a small pantheon of modern artists whom I revere. I’d probably revere more of them if I could remember them all, but never mind.
I remember the first retrospective show I saw, at MOMA, including the fabulous “Bed” and “Obelisk”, among many others I knew largely from books. A later show at the Guggenheim was somehow less compelling, and consisted largely, if not exclusively, of more recent work (so I guess not so much a retrospective).
Anyway, I guess that signed screen print of the Talking Heads “Speaking in Tongues” limited edition cover art I’ve got up on the wall just got a little more valuable. After David Byrne departs this mortal coil, it ought to be an eBay killer, but I only wish him well, really.
18 April 2008
Shh
Today's the last day at my present job, and I've already put my forwarding order in place for my mail and switched off the land-line in preparation for moving next week. It's not that this blog's terribly active, but it's about to become much less so for a little while, until I've straightened out home internet access and so forth.
Talk among yourselves.
Today's the last day at my present job, and I've already put my forwarding order in place for my mail and switched off the land-line in preparation for moving next week. It's not that this blog's terribly active, but it's about to become much less so for a little while, until I've straightened out home internet access and so forth.
Talk among yourselves.
15 April 2008
Bitter Draught
Does it help that Obama's right? And it's not just small towns, either. I've known plenty of bitter people in cities who cling to emotive issues or draw distinctions between themselves and others over inane political discourse, people who simply won't accept reality and back their arguments with religion, or simplistic interpretations of the Constitution, or nothing at all, just resentment that someone else might not be treated as badly as they have been. And, frankly, I'm tired of Clinton running the GOP playbook. I wonder if she isn't a little bitter herself. I'm sure McCain is.
Does it help that Obama's right? And it's not just small towns, either. I've known plenty of bitter people in cities who cling to emotive issues or draw distinctions between themselves and others over inane political discourse, people who simply won't accept reality and back their arguments with religion, or simplistic interpretations of the Constitution, or nothing at all, just resentment that someone else might not be treated as badly as they have been. And, frankly, I'm tired of Clinton running the GOP playbook. I wonder if she isn't a little bitter herself. I'm sure McCain is.
10 April 2008
New Job
I'm moving on, commuting to North Ryde every morning, starting in the next two to four weeks. That maternity leave replacement job has been turned into two jobs, with one of them for me. The offer came in around lunchtime, and I snapped it up.
Working at the Catholic Education Office was a good job, especially as it came just when I needed employment rather badly. They've always been supportive of me, especially during such periods as life was difficult, and I'm grateful to them. It turned a bit sour last year, when we abandoned the SQL database I was hired to install, and returned to an bit of 1980's legacy technology. But although I started my job search the moment that decision was made, it's taken all this time for someone to be willing to take a chance on me.
Bloody North Ryde, though. That's not going to be fun.
I'll be working
I'm moving on, commuting to North Ryde every morning, starting in the next two to four weeks. That maternity leave replacement job has been turned into two jobs, with one of them for me. The offer came in around lunchtime, and I snapped it up.
Working at the Catholic Education Office was a good job, especially as it came just when I needed employment rather badly. They've always been supportive of me, especially during such periods as life was difficult, and I'm grateful to them. It turned a bit sour last year, when we abandoned the SQL database I was hired to install, and returned to an bit of 1980's legacy technology. But although I started my job search the moment that decision was made, it's taken all this time for someone to be willing to take a chance on me.
Bloody North Ryde, though. That's not going to be fun.
I'll be working
09 April 2008
Not Sweeps Week
I rented a few weekly DVD’s, including one Australian film I’d neglected while it was in cinemas, Ten Canoes, a movie of Aboriginal Australia, a tale-within-a-tale of jealousy and desire and living the right way. I don’t know why I didn’t get to this when it was a new release, even, let alone why I didn’t go see it in a movie house, especially as I’d seen a fascinating short documentary on the making of. Anyway, it’s terrific. I liked the framing, with the top story in black-and-white, the present and past in color. Presented in three formats – all aboriginal language, aboriginal language with subtitles, or English voice-over narration with aboriginal language and subtitles (the theatrical release version) – it’s very accessible and offers a glimpse into aboriginal culture not commonly found. I highly recommend that if you haven’t seen it and can get it you put it on your list. Internationally renowned aboriginal actor David Gulpilil narrates, and that’s his kid, Jamie, as the young man.
I rented a few weekly DVD’s, including one Australian film I’d neglected while it was in cinemas, Ten Canoes, a movie of Aboriginal Australia, a tale-within-a-tale of jealousy and desire and living the right way. I don’t know why I didn’t get to this when it was a new release, even, let alone why I didn’t go see it in a movie house, especially as I’d seen a fascinating short documentary on the making of. Anyway, it’s terrific. I liked the framing, with the top story in black-and-white, the present and past in color. Presented in three formats – all aboriginal language, aboriginal language with subtitles, or English voice-over narration with aboriginal language and subtitles (the theatrical release version) – it’s very accessible and offers a glimpse into aboriginal culture not commonly found. I highly recommend that if you haven’t seen it and can get it you put it on your list. Internationally renowned aboriginal actor David Gulpilil narrates, and that’s his kid, Jamie, as the young man.
08 April 2008
04 April 2008
”Vive Fafnir, Vive Giblets”
Fafblog’s back with the Medium Lobster & ever’body – and not so hard on the eyes anymore.
Fafblog’s back with the Medium Lobster & ever’body – and not so hard on the eyes anymore.
03 April 2008
Employment Matters
With reference checks underway, it’s entirely possible that by this time tomorrow I’ll have a job offer. Unfortunately, it’s for a job I don’t think I want.
While my present employer is wonderfully flexible and pays generously, the work, well, there is no work. I’m bored beyond belief here, and there’s little I can do about it. The database can’t be managed by me, only by consultants, so I can’t actively improve its functionality. There simply aren’t enough reporting requirements to give me much joy in running the extracts. The underlying database is technology from the 1980’s, unused in mainstream corporations, and clunky at best. But I’ve been trying for a new job for nearly two years now, getting nowhere. So what’s wrong with this one?
It’s a maternity leave replacement contract, mainly, which means it’s employment for a set period of time. Given my current job-hunt experience, that presents a worrying condition. It’s also located in a relatively remote suburb, accessible by public transport (a bus + a train + a bus or a bus + another bus), but far from most recruiters and most major corporations. This means that interviewing for a new job would be difficult and time-consuming, whereas right now I need only adjust my hours by 30 minutes and I can make any interview anywhere in reasonable time.
Although it affords a marvellous opportunity to work again with mainstream software (SAP – about co-equal with PeopleSoft, and probably well above Oracle – a program I haven’t used before, but by learning would increase my profile in the HRIS marketplace), can I risk short-term employment?
Sure, new mothers don’t always come back, and some extend their leave, which would mean no guarantee of returning to the same job, and some want to come back to a modified role, potentially leaving room for me (and there was some suggestion that the function was perceived as requiring two people, although also that there wasn’t room in the headcount). In the course of the two interviews, I got different impressions of the incumbent: she didn’t care for the job was one, but the other was suggestive of her investiture in it. The company also does consulting work, so there’s a potential to transition to that team, if they’re satisfied with my work, get the impression that I’d make a good consultant, and have enough projects to go around.
What to do, what to do? New jobs come up all the time, although I don’t always get the interview, or the second interview (and, obviously, haven’t been getting the offers). Is this just too vague to take the chance?
With reference checks underway, it’s entirely possible that by this time tomorrow I’ll have a job offer. Unfortunately, it’s for a job I don’t think I want.
While my present employer is wonderfully flexible and pays generously, the work, well, there is no work. I’m bored beyond belief here, and there’s little I can do about it. The database can’t be managed by me, only by consultants, so I can’t actively improve its functionality. There simply aren’t enough reporting requirements to give me much joy in running the extracts. The underlying database is technology from the 1980’s, unused in mainstream corporations, and clunky at best. But I’ve been trying for a new job for nearly two years now, getting nowhere. So what’s wrong with this one?
It’s a maternity leave replacement contract, mainly, which means it’s employment for a set period of time. Given my current job-hunt experience, that presents a worrying condition. It’s also located in a relatively remote suburb, accessible by public transport (a bus + a train + a bus or a bus + another bus), but far from most recruiters and most major corporations. This means that interviewing for a new job would be difficult and time-consuming, whereas right now I need only adjust my hours by 30 minutes and I can make any interview anywhere in reasonable time.
Although it affords a marvellous opportunity to work again with mainstream software (SAP – about co-equal with PeopleSoft, and probably well above Oracle – a program I haven’t used before, but by learning would increase my profile in the HRIS marketplace), can I risk short-term employment?
Sure, new mothers don’t always come back, and some extend their leave, which would mean no guarantee of returning to the same job, and some want to come back to a modified role, potentially leaving room for me (and there was some suggestion that the function was perceived as requiring two people, although also that there wasn’t room in the headcount). In the course of the two interviews, I got different impressions of the incumbent: she didn’t care for the job was one, but the other was suggestive of her investiture in it. The company also does consulting work, so there’s a potential to transition to that team, if they’re satisfied with my work, get the impression that I’d make a good consultant, and have enough projects to go around.
What to do, what to do? New jobs come up all the time, although I don’t always get the interview, or the second interview (and, obviously, haven’t been getting the offers). Is this just too vague to take the chance?
31 March 2008
’70’s Nostalgia Moments
Remember Phantom of the Paradise? Well, it just kind of jumped out at me when I was looking for a DVD to watch, something trivial to relax with after spending the day doing various chores and a little more packing, so I revisited this rather cheesy Paul Williams vehicle, directed by Brian DePalma, of all people. It’s not nearly as bad as I remembered. I doubt Mr. Williams will perform any of the songs at his Enmore gig, though.
On the other hand, Eastern Promises is one tough film, even if the logic of how Naomi Watts gets involved is more than a little unlikely.
Remember Phantom of the Paradise? Well, it just kind of jumped out at me when I was looking for a DVD to watch, something trivial to relax with after spending the day doing various chores and a little more packing, so I revisited this rather cheesy Paul Williams vehicle, directed by Brian DePalma, of all people. It’s not nearly as bad as I remembered. I doubt Mr. Williams will perform any of the songs at his Enmore gig, though.
On the other hand, Eastern Promises is one tough film, even if the logic of how Naomi Watts gets involved is more than a little unlikely.
25 March 2008
Quiet Sunday Night
Except for all the Irish yowling from the DVD I rented, Once, featuring Glen Hansard, of the Frames. (There will be those reading this – and I’m looking at you, Mom & Dad – who should be warned against the movie purely for its soundtrack, for which the movie is actually more a vehicle than is usually the case; nevertheless, I loved every song and every repetition of the theme.) M. had recommended it to me and supplied me with a copy of the soundtrack, but I never got around to it at the cinema and hadn’t really thought much about renting it. However, faced with either this or 30 Days of Night, and oddly enough I chose the grownup movie. It’s very beautiful. It also addresses relationships unusually. I also enjoyed the bit with the vacuum cleaner.
The rest of the long weekend was largely spent packing.
Except for all the Irish yowling from the DVD I rented, Once, featuring Glen Hansard, of the Frames. (There will be those reading this – and I’m looking at you, Mom & Dad – who should be warned against the movie purely for its soundtrack, for which the movie is actually more a vehicle than is usually the case; nevertheless, I loved every song and every repetition of the theme.) M. had recommended it to me and supplied me with a copy of the soundtrack, but I never got around to it at the cinema and hadn’t really thought much about renting it. However, faced with either this or 30 Days of Night, and oddly enough I chose the grownup movie. It’s very beautiful. It also addresses relationships unusually. I also enjoyed the bit with the vacuum cleaner.
The rest of the long weekend was largely spent packing.
18 March 2008
Gloom
I am going to find every poem I ever wrote that uses “darkness” and submit them to Virginia Quarterly Review right away. And cats. (Thx, Kottke.)
I am going to find every poem I ever wrote that uses “darkness” and submit them to Virginia Quarterly Review right away. And cats. (Thx, Kottke.)
Obligatory
Now that I’m an Australian, it is required that I like Nick Cave. I suppose I ought to go back to the days of The Birthday Party, or even just the start of the Bad Seeds, but really, I’m only coming to this recently. I mean, I love “Into My Arms,” mid-period Bad Seeds Cave, one of the only three purchases I bothered to make on iTunes, but most often I’ve found him too dark and self-indulgent, that kind of moody, emo stuff. I saw the clip for the title track off his new record, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!, and on the strength of the one song took the chance and bought the album. It’s terrific, full of the kind of biblical allusions and religious philosophizing angst he’s best at, and full of groovy beats (man). This is some rock gospel at its best. I especially like “We Call Upon the Author to Explain.”
Next up: AC/DC. (Has any other band in the history of rock employed bagpipes? Okay, better use?)
Now that I’m an Australian, it is required that I like Nick Cave. I suppose I ought to go back to the days of The Birthday Party, or even just the start of the Bad Seeds, but really, I’m only coming to this recently. I mean, I love “Into My Arms,” mid-period Bad Seeds Cave, one of the only three purchases I bothered to make on iTunes, but most often I’ve found him too dark and self-indulgent, that kind of moody, emo stuff. I saw the clip for the title track off his new record, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!, and on the strength of the one song took the chance and bought the album. It’s terrific, full of the kind of biblical allusions and religious philosophizing angst he’s best at, and full of groovy beats (man). This is some rock gospel at its best. I especially like “We Call Upon the Author to Explain.”
Next up: AC/DC. (Has any other band in the history of rock employed bagpipes? Okay, better use?)
17 March 2008
Weekend Update
I joined the Rabbitohs this year. 13 games at ANZ Stadium, out at the Olympic Park, and the home opener was Friday. (The Charity Shield, which I was unable to attend, doesn't count; it's pre-season.) This is Rugby League's 100-year anniversary, and it was a blast to attend a grudge match between two of Sydney's progenitor teams. It's just a shame that the Roosters trounced the Bunnies. Anyway, I was thrilled, and my seats are terrific, just on the 40-meter line, and only 20 rows back. They put on a fun opening ceremony, with a thousand kids out on the field, essentially doing drill-team stuff, spelling out "1908 - 2008", running around in a synchronized fashion (more or less), etc. Anyway, energizing. I was, however, kind of appalled at the level of booing, but more so at the cheers by Souths' supporters when one of the Roosters had to be taken from the field injured. While some measure of revenge was at work for the season-ending injury inflicted on our Craig Wing by the Roosters employing a tackle that seems deliberately designed to cause harm, that's really no excuse. Bitterness, at childish levels, was on display, so I was in among both the best and worst aspects of the Australian sports-centricity. Tough game, that rugby.
After spending a few hours Saturday packing LP's for my upcoming move, and a late night in among the warehouses of industrial Marrickville looking for the Tactics gig (which I abandoned after the first opening act, a duo calling themselves Real Estate, faced with the prospect of a second act, only just setting up at 10:30, meaning it would likely be midnight before the main act, and the venue was pretty horrible), Sunday was to be a day of pure rest. I had, however, some need to return to the shopping mall, so while I was there I stopped at the movies and saw No Country for Old Men, which I had expected to miss and have to watch on DVD, since I spent so long in not reading the book.
I really like Cormac McCarthy's novels, especially when they're not half in Spanish, and had enjoyed this one. I hadn't thought it terribly cinematic, although Tommy Lee Jones was an obvious casting choice. It's a very controlled, evenly paced movie, a kind of anti-thriller, in that you're never very emotionally involved with the characters, just kind of fascinated, snake-and-bird fashion, particularly in the case of Anton Chigurh. I guess it's prize-worthy, but I also agree with David Denby's assessement.
I joined the Rabbitohs this year. 13 games at ANZ Stadium, out at the Olympic Park, and the home opener was Friday. (The Charity Shield, which I was unable to attend, doesn't count; it's pre-season.) This is Rugby League's 100-year anniversary, and it was a blast to attend a grudge match between two of Sydney's progenitor teams. It's just a shame that the Roosters trounced the Bunnies. Anyway, I was thrilled, and my seats are terrific, just on the 40-meter line, and only 20 rows back. They put on a fun opening ceremony, with a thousand kids out on the field, essentially doing drill-team stuff, spelling out "1908 - 2008", running around in a synchronized fashion (more or less), etc. Anyway, energizing. I was, however, kind of appalled at the level of booing, but more so at the cheers by Souths' supporters when one of the Roosters had to be taken from the field injured. While some measure of revenge was at work for the season-ending injury inflicted on our Craig Wing by the Roosters employing a tackle that seems deliberately designed to cause harm, that's really no excuse. Bitterness, at childish levels, was on display, so I was in among both the best and worst aspects of the Australian sports-centricity. Tough game, that rugby.
After spending a few hours Saturday packing LP's for my upcoming move, and a late night in among the warehouses of industrial Marrickville looking for the Tactics gig (which I abandoned after the first opening act, a duo calling themselves Real Estate, faced with the prospect of a second act, only just setting up at 10:30, meaning it would likely be midnight before the main act, and the venue was pretty horrible), Sunday was to be a day of pure rest. I had, however, some need to return to the shopping mall, so while I was there I stopped at the movies and saw No Country for Old Men, which I had expected to miss and have to watch on DVD, since I spent so long in not reading the book.
I really like Cormac McCarthy's novels, especially when they're not half in Spanish, and had enjoyed this one. I hadn't thought it terribly cinematic, although Tommy Lee Jones was an obvious casting choice. It's a very controlled, evenly paced movie, a kind of anti-thriller, in that you're never very emotionally involved with the characters, just kind of fascinated, snake-and-bird fashion, particularly in the case of Anton Chigurh. I guess it's prize-worthy, but I also agree with David Denby's assessement.
12 March 2008
Moving House
It’s a little counter-intuitive at my age, but I’ve exchanged contracts on a new home of my own. Over the next six weeks I’ll need to pack everything up and hire a mover, but as of April 25, I’ll be in a nice two-bedroom garden flat in Glebe. And there’s a pet door already installed for the cats, conveniently enough. I’ll probably never see them again, outside of dinner time.
It all happened rather quickly. I’d been thinking of Marrickville, where I’d seen a nice flat, and Alexandria, where I’d seen a one-bedroom, loft-style unit, and which was very convenient to transport, if not to anything else, very modern, but when I asked about the Glebe place and found the price was more in my range than I’d expected, I “gazumped” – that is, made an offer above the one that had already been accepted, but where the contracts had not yet been signed. We moved very fast thereafter, with me handing over some tens of thousands of dollars in downpayment yesterday afternoon. Before close-of-business, I was the new home owner, at least contractually.
Properly, I’m in Forest Lodge, but convenient to transport, shopping, and all the best bits of Glebe (like Gleebooks, the best independent bookstore in the city). Anyway, I don’t know how long the real estate webpage will stay up, but if you want a look, there’s photos and a floor plan here. Don’t be put off by the purple feature wall.
It’s a little counter-intuitive at my age, but I’ve exchanged contracts on a new home of my own. Over the next six weeks I’ll need to pack everything up and hire a mover, but as of April 25, I’ll be in a nice two-bedroom garden flat in Glebe. And there’s a pet door already installed for the cats, conveniently enough. I’ll probably never see them again, outside of dinner time.
It all happened rather quickly. I’d been thinking of Marrickville, where I’d seen a nice flat, and Alexandria, where I’d seen a one-bedroom, loft-style unit, and which was very convenient to transport, if not to anything else, very modern, but when I asked about the Glebe place and found the price was more in my range than I’d expected, I “gazumped” – that is, made an offer above the one that had already been accepted, but where the contracts had not yet been signed. We moved very fast thereafter, with me handing over some tens of thousands of dollars in downpayment yesterday afternoon. Before close-of-business, I was the new home owner, at least contractually.
Properly, I’m in Forest Lodge, but convenient to transport, shopping, and all the best bits of Glebe (like Gleebooks, the best independent bookstore in the city). Anyway, I don’t know how long the real estate webpage will stay up, but if you want a look, there’s photos and a floor plan here. Don’t be put off by the purple feature wall.
Politics and Sex
How is it that sex scandals seem to fall along party lines? Democrats have sex outside of marriage and Republicans impeach them is starting to look like a pattern. Gary Hart, Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer . . . and here we’ve got a Labor Councillor in Wollongong sleeping with developers for favors and the whole council sacked. At least it was the ICAC recommending their dismissal, rather than an opposition instituting proceedings, but still. Can the left keep their pants on? Can the right try to keep their outrage muted? Frankly, Spitzer’s actions, unlike Clinton’s, need investigation: US$5,000 hookers probably aren’t being charged on his personal credit card, but it would be good to know if it was his own money he was spending. The Wollongong thing is just mind-boggling. Sleep with me and I’ll approve your development application? Weird.
How is it that sex scandals seem to fall along party lines? Democrats have sex outside of marriage and Republicans impeach them is starting to look like a pattern. Gary Hart, Bill Clinton, Eliot Spitzer . . . and here we’ve got a Labor Councillor in Wollongong sleeping with developers for favors and the whole council sacked. At least it was the ICAC recommending their dismissal, rather than an opposition instituting proceedings, but still. Can the left keep their pants on? Can the right try to keep their outrage muted? Frankly, Spitzer’s actions, unlike Clinton’s, need investigation: US$5,000 hookers probably aren’t being charged on his personal credit card, but it would be good to know if it was his own money he was spending. The Wollongong thing is just mind-boggling. Sleep with me and I’ll approve your development application? Weird.
11 March 2008
Christianationalism
It’s beyond silly to still be having these debates. The question, is Australia a Christian nation, comes up at least as often as the query is posed in America, it seems, and just as often engenders furious back-and-forth commentary. Fred Nile’s right in that statements made by federalists at the turn of the century indicate their firm intention to maintain Christian standards of morality in the laws and constitution, but that isn’t any more definitional of Australia as a “Christian nation” than that Elizabeth II was crowned in the context of a “Christian Coronation Service”; the preservation of medieval ritual doesn’t imbue her with any spiritual authority over her subjects, or at least none that any of them would acknowledge or that she herself would attempt to exercise.
Religion is personal. It may be that if enough people take up a particular set of practices and beliefs they can form a subset of society and extract some spiritual benefit (and from my viewpoint that’s an emotional, psychological benefit, really, howsoever difficult it may be to define; so’s art), but that doesn’t translate into an entire national identity.
Admittedly, Australia is about the most Christian-looking country I’ve spent much time in, what with public holidays including Good Friday, Easter Monday, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day. Some states also do Easter Tuesday (Tasmania) and “The Day After Good Friday” (South Australia [psst, that’s “Easter Saturday” for those of us who know the days of the week, everywhere but Tasmania and West Australia]), but most of the public holidays are secular: New Year’s Day, Australia Day, ANZAC Day, the Queen’s Birthday, and various Labour Days and days devoted to county fair-type events or horse races.
Insofar as other nations may be designated “Muslim” or “Hindu,” we, like most of Europe and the Americas are, technically, Christian, but in many respects no more so than you’d call some Asian nations “Buddhist.” (I wonder if any African nations have these debates? How do they categorize themselves?) Yes, Parliament, weirdly, opens daily with the Lord’s Prayer, a practice I believe should cease, but we haven’t enshrined the separation of church and state as thoroughly as was managed in the U.S. Constitution, something that could perhaps be rectified at such time as we become a republic. Our principles of governance, the laws we have enshrined and value, may come from a centuries-old tradition that grew, in no small part, from the ancient embrace of Christianity throughout Europe, but that tradition has evolved, even as Christianity has, itself breaking into a variety of sects, and the principle of secular government has a firm hold on how we perceive our civic lives. This does not devalue religion, if that’s your flavor. Remember, Jesus told us not to do as the hypocrites do, making a show of our adherence to religious rules, and to keep what our right hand does hidden from our left hand.
It’s beyond silly to still be having these debates. The question, is Australia a Christian nation, comes up at least as often as the query is posed in America, it seems, and just as often engenders furious back-and-forth commentary. Fred Nile’s right in that statements made by federalists at the turn of the century indicate their firm intention to maintain Christian standards of morality in the laws and constitution, but that isn’t any more definitional of Australia as a “Christian nation” than that Elizabeth II was crowned in the context of a “Christian Coronation Service”; the preservation of medieval ritual doesn’t imbue her with any spiritual authority over her subjects, or at least none that any of them would acknowledge or that she herself would attempt to exercise.
Religion is personal. It may be that if enough people take up a particular set of practices and beliefs they can form a subset of society and extract some spiritual benefit (and from my viewpoint that’s an emotional, psychological benefit, really, howsoever difficult it may be to define; so’s art), but that doesn’t translate into an entire national identity.
Admittedly, Australia is about the most Christian-looking country I’ve spent much time in, what with public holidays including Good Friday, Easter Monday, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day. Some states also do Easter Tuesday (Tasmania) and “The Day After Good Friday” (South Australia [psst, that’s “Easter Saturday” for those of us who know the days of the week, everywhere but Tasmania and West Australia]), but most of the public holidays are secular: New Year’s Day, Australia Day, ANZAC Day, the Queen’s Birthday, and various Labour Days and days devoted to county fair-type events or horse races.
Insofar as other nations may be designated “Muslim” or “Hindu,” we, like most of Europe and the Americas are, technically, Christian, but in many respects no more so than you’d call some Asian nations “Buddhist.” (I wonder if any African nations have these debates? How do they categorize themselves?) Yes, Parliament, weirdly, opens daily with the Lord’s Prayer, a practice I believe should cease, but we haven’t enshrined the separation of church and state as thoroughly as was managed in the U.S. Constitution, something that could perhaps be rectified at such time as we become a republic. Our principles of governance, the laws we have enshrined and value, may come from a centuries-old tradition that grew, in no small part, from the ancient embrace of Christianity throughout Europe, but that tradition has evolved, even as Christianity has, itself breaking into a variety of sects, and the principle of secular government has a firm hold on how we perceive our civic lives. This does not devalue religion, if that’s your flavor. Remember, Jesus told us not to do as the hypocrites do, making a show of our adherence to religious rules, and to keep what our right hand does hidden from our left hand.
10 March 2008
Gigs
Saturday night, alerted by M., I headed out to the Hopetoun, in Surry Hills, to see the reunited Tactics. Described as Sydney’s answer to the Talking Heads, a designation rejected by the band themselves (in the liner notes to the CD I bought), I’d compare them more to Pere Ubu, an avant-New Wave band I came to rather late in their career, although not so late as I have to this one. Now, I admit, I mainly went to this show because a mutual friend is a member, and I like to think I’m one of those people who support their friends, especially in their artistic endeavors, but now I’m a fan. The show was hopeless, mainly because the acoustics were hideously bad, maybe because the band members hadn’t been rehearsing long, probably because they’ve got to be the loosest band to ever have a recording contract (except the drummer, who was tight – and how does that work, that only one band member can be described that way; never mind, it’s the only way to describe it). The CD is a reissue of both the first two albums the Tactics put out, “My Houdini” and “Glebe,” and it rocks. I fully intend to turn up at one of their next sets, maybe the Annadale, which is close to home, but I’m interested in the CAD Factory itself.
Saturday night, alerted by M., I headed out to the Hopetoun, in Surry Hills, to see the reunited Tactics. Described as Sydney’s answer to the Talking Heads, a designation rejected by the band themselves (in the liner notes to the CD I bought), I’d compare them more to Pere Ubu, an avant-New Wave band I came to rather late in their career, although not so late as I have to this one. Now, I admit, I mainly went to this show because a mutual friend is a member, and I like to think I’m one of those people who support their friends, especially in their artistic endeavors, but now I’m a fan. The show was hopeless, mainly because the acoustics were hideously bad, maybe because the band members hadn’t been rehearsing long, probably because they’ve got to be the loosest band to ever have a recording contract (except the drummer, who was tight – and how does that work, that only one band member can be described that way; never mind, it’s the only way to describe it). The CD is a reissue of both the first two albums the Tactics put out, “My Houdini” and “Glebe,” and it rocks. I fully intend to turn up at one of their next sets, maybe the Annadale, which is close to home, but I’m interested in the CAD Factory itself.
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