Still

Still no job. Still being rejected, again and again. Still living in a tiny brick box. Still no breakthrough in trying to change my life creatively. Still missing my mum. Still grieving for her. Today is her birthday. She would have been 59. Still don't know what to do with my life at this point. Feel like there are no options. Overeducated and underqualified, no-one wants to give me a go. And why would they? Still self loathing. Still feel like doing a PhD was a colossal waste of time. Tried to change my life through education and it did nothing. What a surprise. There are so many social science and arts PhD graduates every year and there simply is not the work to support the numbers. It's unethical that the universities keep churning them out like they do. Still turning to this blog when I feel like having a rant into space. Still have not found where I belong. Still totally and utterly lost.

The man I'm not, but could have been...

Red jeep cherokee,
Personal trainer,
Waxed back, crack and sack,
Back to the penthouse suite,

Spray tanned,
Waxed vagina,
Bleached anus,
A girlfriend with a perfect smile,

A blonde with bolt on boobs,
who knows or cares if these puppies are fake..
or not,
when she likes anal...sometimes...

Laughing friends,
sitting on the balcony,
discussing mobile phone plans,
sipping sparkling wine,

Faking it,
Girlfriend cheating with your best mate,
Trapped just like the rest of us,
A Perfect Life.

The Coyote

A shadow moves...
just outside the light of the fire
Darting into then out of sight,
moving,
always moving...

With a flick of a tail,
but not a dog...
Scratching somewhere in the distance,
digging,
digging for bones and relics of lost gods,

Neither prey nor predator,
I am but a shadow,
waiting,
for a moment to come,
and to pass..

I am the bait-thief,
I am the wanderer,
I am the trickster,
I am the coyote.

The wells of fancy run dry

Writers do one thing. They write. They have seemingly endless depths of imagination and drive to tell stories. Their own and arguably the stories of others. It has been a long time since I actually wrote anything that wasn't a text message or much longer than an email. One can hardly call themselves a writer when one does not write. Which brings me to this blog.

At first it seemed I really did not know what this blog was for. I wrote about all matters and subjects. I posted recipes, fiction, personal entries and links to things I liked. It was a glorious experiment in writing almost for the sake of it and an alternative outlet while I was writing for my PhD. Importantly I also figured if I kept writing it gave me a reason to be and if I kept writing, kept putting it out there, I need not think quite as much about my mother's death and the gaping hole this left in my being. However, increasingly my blogging turned inwards focusing more and more on what this loss meant to me. Many of these posts I later removed. Were they too personal? Perhaps. My worry increasingly became that they revealed a portrait of a flawed and mangled human being. A narcissist, stuck in the depths of self pity and loathing.

Somehow during this time this kind of writing got wrapped up in my writing of my PhD and indeed the writing of my own life. My ability to create a forward narrative and tell a story about me that was somehow different than the depths of grief I felt became deeply compromised. Once this had occurred and somehow infected me and the world around me, I sought to recreate this terrible narrative in all the world around me, because in the depths of me it was all that I knew.

It destroyed relationships and a career path into academia. I also became deeply angry about this: my feeling of being incapable to change anything, my self destructive bent, alongside the event that had such impact that it threatened to destroy my life. Unfortunately it spiraled, with one thing feeding off another. Self loathing about oneself begets more self loathing. Anger about one's actions creates only more anger. Bitterness leads only to more bitterness. It is with only a fraction more clarity that I now write this, as it was also terribly difficult to see what I was doing and indeed even make any real assessment of where I am today compared to the past five and a bit years.

In short since 2003 I have lost hope. A glimmer of hope is a precious and fragile thing. I have also realized what a necessity hope is to both write and to live. One cannot write stories that tell of escape, success, holding on, fighting for one's life without hope. And one cannot live particularly well without hope either.

After finishing the PhD a glimmer of hope emerged that my life might be different, I might have some kind of success because of actually finishing was some kind of small success. And having a little success does tend to create more success. Unfortunately this was not and has not been the case. Perhaps it is because I am a flawed human being? Perhaps it was just a simple case of not having any support to launch a career? Perhaps it was more a case of there simply not being any academic jobs? Perhaps it was a case of me no longer wanting it enough and giving up trying? Perhaps it is just a simple case of people being so wrapped up in their own lives that why should they care about someone who had nothing to offer them? But perhaps it is more to do with hope being in very short supply.

After a while I stopped writing anything personal here. My fears of what it might reveal was initially what I thought stopped this. Then I just stopped writing. A writer must write and I found myself post-PhD with nothing to say. Nothing I wanted to say. Nothing I cared about anymore with any real passion. Possibly because caring about something would only lead to disappointment. Much like my PhD experience. Maybe because I came to see being passionate about something only leading to undue stress and ultimately disappointment.

During this time away from writing I sculpted, I painted and I drew. Engaged different creative energies, but I ceased to write. The wells of fancy had well and truly run dry. Once again this brings me back to this blog. I have not know what to do with it for some time. It seems a record of a period of my life that while I'd rather not look at closely and as often now I find myself unable to hit the delete button and remove it from the web. And there are some who would undoubtedly sigh with relief if I did this. So like all stories they are never finished, merely abandoned.

Visual installation: Film that will end in Death

An artist friend Trevor has a new exhibition on at the moment as part of the Next Wave festival. The show is titled Film that will end in Death and is on from the 8th to the 31st of May. There is also a Q&A session with Trevor on the 25th of May.

The exhibition explores risk in life through stunning visuals and documentary style footage. From a firefighter to a rock-climber, the characters featured in the documentary footage all have a degree of danger present in their lives that Trevor explores with intense curiosity.

The sociologist in me found what Trevor captured on film extraordinary, in terms of the way people make sense of their own lives. Some of the amazing documentary footage he also admitted was pure luck. I might have to go back one afternoon to sit and listen to the full narrative, which I was unable to on opening night.

Privacy Week...

Interesting video, even though the American context with both the 4th Amendment and the Patriot Act in play is different to Australian context.

Choose Privacy Week Video from 20K Films on Vimeo.

Considering I do blog and have put a fair chunk of my life online it certainly had an impact on the way I think about that. Still not a F@cebo0k member, though if I was it might have allowed me to keep in touch with some folks that I lost contact with too. Pros and cons between being a hermit and being totally open.

Synopses are my nemeses

As of today I have 4-6 solid sentences done on my synopsis. First sentence is good, but I'm begining to wonder if synopses might be my nemeses? Nemesis? Nemesi? Nemeses.

Probably could have had proposal entirely finished if not for work. Seem to be feeling extra lazy after work too. Have been jogging and exercising a bit though as I seem to spend most of the day sitting. So if nothing else I'll be a fit unpublished writer.

Hope you are all kinds of good.

Writing In Progress

At the moment I'm working on a number of writing projects when I can. I thought I'd do a very brief blog entry about the stages they are at as of today so in the future I can (hopefully) see the progress I've made.

• Book proposal: I've done the title page, cover letter, started author details, started market potential, but done nothing on synopsis or chapter plan. Am I putting off the hard bits? A friend at university has also offered to look over proposal, which has given me a bit of a nudge to get this done.
  
• Short film script: first draft was enthusiastically finished some time ago and given to a friend. I have now starting rewrite keeping only one scene of the original six. Have worked out new (or should that be actual?) narrative for story. This very much feels like taking a big block of stone and carving something into it, but then working out that this was only revealing the real statue underneath.
  
• Speculative fiction: total bloody standstill. One chapter 90% finished.
• Young adult: more notes taken, idea somewhat more developed, no real writing done.
• Play with puppets: characters down, but no script. Will also have to do some making elsewhere to get this to happen too.
  
• Journal and magazine articles: two finished and another started. But there are at least two more just off the top of my head I should be working on. For instance two journal articles based on thesis chapters for social work journals that I should be working on but have no energy for at the moment.
  

That is all the bits and pieces of writing I can think of at the moment. I will have to keep an eye on this post and see how I progress over next two months. Thats the idea at least.

I have also removed some older irrelevant posts, which although raise the number of hits my blog receives are not relevant to the arts, culture, writing focus I've decided to try to develop here.

In other news I'm more seriously contemplating joining F@cebo0k. Have not yet, but as close as I have been with my brother travelling overseas.

Earth Hour at the zoo

Rather than sit in the dark for Earth Hour and bemoan how no one else cares for the planet, I think people should do something social. This year we had the opportunity to go to see live music and animals at the Melbourne Zoo for Earth Hour. We were invited to the event as part of a special blogger invite organized by Our Religion (a PR company attempting to use the 'new media').

The Melbourne Zoo is only a short walk through mostly parkland from our place, so it was really nice to go to an event so close, plus have a zero carbon footprint getting there! Although the zoo has good public transport options in general. We were greeted by Masha and co at the gate and got tickets and goodie bag before heading into the zoo in groups of ten. It seemed each blogger I met had brought along another non-blogger friend, lover or family members. Although Alana (my partner) does blog too and we have a joint blog together elsewhere.

First we go and check out the giraffes, which were busy munching on some branches. Off to the lions next, with me briefly getting distracted by the cute meerkats on the way. What struck me about the lion exhibit is that there was only males in the enclosure. I remember when we were living on a sheep station if you put only male sheep (rams) in a paddock they got pretty gay pretty quick from lack of ewe company. I found myself briefly wondering if the zoo's male lions had also gone this way?

Next we got a special behind the scenes tour of the reptile house. We were greeted by John (?) the head curator for the snakes and lizards: a man with a majestic silver beard, gypsy earring, twinkling eyes and Steve Irwin shorts. I wonder where 'animal men' shop for these sort of shorts? Or if as soon as you become an 'animal man' they issue them to you in the mail?

We were taken through the feed room, filled with cages of squirming insects and mice. For most people I expect this might have had slightly more novelty value than for Alana, as part of Alana's work as a medical scientist is with mice. Then we met the most amazingly beautiful lizards: Fijian Crested Iguanas. Which are critically endangered in Fiji, so a population is being kept here in Australia.

Now I didn't wake up yesterday morning and think to myself 'Right today I'm going to handle snakes!' But that is exactly what happened next and I ended up with a Honduran Milk snake and another sort of python (name escapes me at present) on me.

Very cool experience, not what I expected. Alana was a little freaked by them though when they started to react to the noise of the people in the room. She also took some cool shots of the sort of wounds people get from snake poisoning, which might come in useful for special makeup effects one day.

After embracing my inner 'animal man' we headed over to the BBQ area for a meal put on for the bloggers. They put on quite a spread for us, so I was feeling very wined and dined by the end of it! What was really great though was to meet some fellow Melburnian bloggers. We were on the table with the delightful A. from What's For Tea. A foodie blogger who I will now be following. We had thought to bring some of our own food and had packed salad sandwiches and baklava. So Baklava for dessert!

Then on to the concert component for the evening. They had set up a special little flagged off area for the bloggers with 'Reserved blogger event' signs. This made me feel a little bit like one of the exhibits at the zoo! But on another level it was really nice to be treated as being a just a little bit important for a day. Although I'm well aware that this is part of the media strategy being adopted. I'm not sure where I stand with bloggers being co-opted for PR? Australia is also a bit behind this kind of strategy being used, which is far more common in the US and UK.

Tim Rogers was headlining the evening, but for us The Wagons were far more fun and slightly crazy. Sort of unhinged country-folk meets rock music. One slight dampener on the evening was that it started to rain just a little (apologies for the pun). I reckon a few bloggers with kids headed off a bit early because of this.

One slightly weird thing was that when we opened up our 'goodie bag' we discovered a block of Nestle chocolate which contains palm oil and palm oil is responsible for destroying the habitat of orangutans! A little more research here might have been a good idea for the organizers of the event, especially considering the ads up at the zoo about palm oil. But perhaps this was all just part of a 'greenwash strategy' being used by Nestle? Was I now on the Nestle payroll being paid as a blogger with dark creamy chocolatey goodness? Who knows. Fun event. But need far more of these events to change the attitude of more punters.

Carnations for my mum

A year has passed since my mum's last birthday
It snuck up on me this year
I struggled to find carnations for her today

One florist
Then another
Before finding amazing yellow ones with magenta edges

I put five in the ocean
into her all encompassing arms
She'd have really liked the flowers this year

The sea was flat
calm
beautiful

I was thankful she chose the ocean to have her ashes scattered
I also realized how far I've come since last year
And how good my life is in so many ways

I told her that I miss her
But I'm going to be okay
and I'm trying to live my life well

I dipped my toes in the water enjoying the sunshine
walked along the beach
and drove home

The best thing about the 7pm Project

Kitty Flanagan has to be the best thing about the (relatively) new channel Ten series The 7pm Project. I write this after watching the show somewhat irregularly since it began. The show's 'anchors' are Charlie Pickering, Dave Hughes and Carrie Bickmore and is perhaps aimed at those with attention deficit disorder who like a few laughs. Pretty much entertainment 'lite'.

Some critics have suggested that the show is a vehicle for Pickering's career, similarly to what Talkin' 'Bout Your Generation perhaps is for Shaun Micallef. Dave Hughes as an already established comedian is someone who I used to find funny and I really liked his stuff while on The Glasshouse. The third anchor I've come to find annoying. Carrie Bickmore often comes across as an ignorant right-winger, which is a bit surprising considering she was on Rove. The offsiders James Mathison and Ruby Rose are good when they are featured, but can also be a bit hit and miss.

The only reason that I've recently started watching The 7pm Project more regularly is because of a chance of getting one of Kitty's hilarious and biting segments. Absolutely fearless, Kitty also takes comedic risks that the others on the show seem presently incapable of. She is also not afraid of making a fool of herself to get the big laugh. Flanagan's background on Full Frontal and her experience doing writing and stand-up in the UK give her a comedic depth that others on the show lack. It's also self evident to say she also has a powerful intellect, but she does. My last crush on a female comedian was Amanda Keller and now I think it's been replaced.

Kitty and her sister on The Side Show:

Jungleseed

On Wednesday night I went along to the Owl and the Pussycat gallery space in Richmond to see Brad Gunn's amazing show called Jungleseed. The Owl and the Pussycat is a small space next to the bar Holiava on Swan street, opposite Richmond train station.

This exhibit showcases Brad's fantastical imagination, through five sculptures. Four of which are themed around each of the seasons and could be described as tree-women. Or perhaps sort of Tolkienesque Ents. The work really delighted me as it gave such insight into a fantasy world of another person. Unlike other more abstract installations that sometimes can be self indulgent and a bit disconnected it was so nice to see small detailed work like this being presented.

When I asked him, Brad said that his sculptures are one-off pieces, done in super-sculpty, then hand painted using a combination of airbrush and hand. They are absolutely exquisite to look at and I strongly recommend this exhibition to adults suffering from a IDD (Imagination Deficit Disorder).

People who are friends with people are the luckiest people...

Ever get that feeling that there are some people who are supposed to be in your life?

I ran into an old friend from high school Thursday at the park near where I work during my lunch hour. It had been 8 years since I last saw him. Far too long. The funny thing is that I never would have run into him if I had not been over my allocated lunch break and dragging my feet on the way back to the office. Nor would I have run into him if he had not eaten a particularly big parma for lunch and needed to walk it off.

As it turns out he is working in the building next door to where I work. I know Melbourne can be a small town, but I could have gone twenty years working there and never ran into him. I thought he might have moved to either Perth or Sydney.

Ryan was like a brother to me and part of my family. I also realized that he was the very last person I had to tell about my mum dying. We had lost contact a couple of years beforehand. Part of the reason perhaps was because of her last couple of years spent dying where I shut down a lot of communication with people, the other part is because of doing a PhD.

Of course he had tried facebook stalking me but I am not on facebook. I was so glad to see him that it kinda counteracted the awfulness of me having to finally tell him that mum died - who was mum-number-two for him.

We had drinks and good food nearby on Little Bourke. I also met his present partner, who apparently I might have influenced when I last saw her when she had another boyfriend who had gone overseas without her. I might have said that him doing this was kind of crap. So this actually proves that sometimes my big mouth can actually make things work out for the best! Awesome time was had by all.

On the way home I realized how much I had missed out on, not having Ryan in my life. Perhaps it was for the best during the maelstrom of grief and other crapness over the last five years of my life, but I really needed a mate some days. And I know if I had stayed in touch, he would have been there for me. I had been really surprised I had not cried when I told him about my mum, but then on the way home I found tears running down my cheeks during the tram trip. Partly this was about the relief of not ever again having to tell someone who cared about my mum that she had died. Partly this was about not having been a part of his life for the last eight years. Partly this was because it was the end of a very long week...

I did not care about the tears at the time, I figured that I was unlikely to see these people again. I remember there was this big bloke with a grey bushy beard and shaved head that I was sitting next to, who I could tell wanted to say 'Are you okay?' But did not because we were on public transport and that would be breaking the rules. Plus men aren't supposed to cry on public transport, they just aren't.

Anyway, the important point is that I reckon some people are meant to be in your life. Hopefully Ryan is from now on.

Ron Mueck at NGV

On Saturday Alana and I went to see Ron Mueck's work at the National Gallery of Victoria.

Mueck makes extremely realistic sculptures of people. So real that when you look at them you think you are looking at a person. They have pores, wrinkles, veins beneath their skin, and tufts of pubic hair, exactly like real people. Except their scale is either much larger or much smaller than living breathing people.

This realism combined with scale challenged my perspective. A ten foot tall wild man who looks a bit like Alan Moore. A fifteen foot long baby girl. A three foot sculpture of his dead father. There is an incredible beauty and humanity to them as well as an eerie quality that comes with approaching something that looks like a person, enough to fool one sense, but that is not, and is just still.

When I was looking at his work out of the corner of my eye, I swear I thought I saw them move. Each sculpture, despite obviously being still, also inspires a narrative of what they are doing and thinking.

If you get a chance, I'd recommend challenging your senses and getting along to see Ron Mueck's work sometime.

Final submission

Long time, no blog.

Last week I submitted the archival submission for my thesis after making the required amendments.

Mixed emotions. Both good and bad. Endings are always a bit so so for me, good to begin something else new and different, but kind of also painful letting something go.

Writing and The Day Job

This is the third in a series of posts about the hard work of becoming a writer. The other two older posts can be found here (Base Camp) and here (The three Rs). Although I've kept a blog for some time and written a PhD I find myself still working out the way towards writing for a living. In the long term I had intended to try to publish my PhD thesis as a book once the examiners reports are sent back. I do think this will be difficult or perhaps impossible without any support from a university though. And it may simply otherwise take too long for it to be feasible. I'm also working on the start of a journal article based upon bits of three chapters. Luckily I'm able to present the start of this journal article as a work in progress at a couple of university seminars.

Recently I've also had a couple of reviews published in a film and television magazine. Then on Monday I found out that another two reviews had also been accepted. I've not written about this as I have not wanted to jinx it and it seems very much a process of slowly getting work out. The big thing for me about this writing is that it is my first paid work. While I've got some other work published as part of academic conference proceedings I did not get paid for it. So it is especially rewarding in that regard. Getting this work out there would not have been possible without the help of a writer friend of mine, who read and critically commented on my work. (Thanks again if you happen to be reading this. Getting those things published gave me back some self respect.)

I've also started back doing some tutoring work at a local university. As it turns out never again happens to be a very long time. Two days before I was due to start I was feeling really depressed because I have not been able to change what I'm doing. I thought to myself 'I'm still stuck doing casual tutoring work that will end in 12 weeks time...' But then I've actually really enjoyed the work after I started. I thought writing a PhD and having a range of teaching experience now might now open some doors. This is not the case. Having said all that, this 'day job' is keeping me afloat, albeit it is very little income compared to a full time proper job. However the casual nature of this work may allow me to get some more writing done and perhaps even a few more pieces in a range of publications. Trying to look on the bright side about that.

The Wrestler

The academy award nominated movie The Wrestler is a story of a man who keeps doing what he knows despite the damage that it is doing to him. In this way it is a story that mirrors many mens' careers and speaks about the way by which men define themselves through their jobs and what they do. In many ways it shows the limits and the cost of having one's identity defined in such a way. The Wrestler also suggests that it is very difficult for a person to change their career and life if there is nothing else they know. It also raises the questions of: even if a person loves what they do, what does it cost to keep doing it?

The damage that the wrestler's career has done to him is not merely physical, but it has destroyed his relationships too. Randy (played by Micky Rourke) is lonely for human company and reaches out to others: a kid to play old Nintendo games with, a stripper for companionship. He tries to fix things with his daughter, but is doomed to repeat his same mistakes. When he is forced to try and change what he does for money he has few options. He also has to face little twerpy other men with small amounts of power but the will to use it.

The film functions as an allegory to the career options we have. As we get older we find we have less and less options in what we can do for work - particularly men. When we are children the world is open and anything is possible, we can be a fireman, a doctor or even a wrestler. But then when we hit our 30s, 40s, 50s doors close, people don't let us change, and we struggle to change ourselves.

I could not help but care about this broken man played by Rourke. As a film it has a number of interesting and thought provoking features, so is worth watching. 3 1/2 stars.

Lost and found

I am the artful-doger,

I am Peter Pan,

I am Huckleberry Finn,

a thief,

a swashbuckler,

a rascal,

I am orphaned,

free,

an adventurer,

a storyteller,

master,

and master of none,

I am lost,

I am found...

My Year Without Sex

Sarah Watt's new film My Year Without Sex explores how ordinary people create meaning out of their life experiences. However, Sarah contrasts everyday life, as lived by of a family in the Melbourne Western suburbs, to life-changing events when the central character Natalie, played by multiple AFI winning actress Sacha Horler, suffers a brain aneurysm. This theme (how do people make sense of life and death) returns in Sarah's exploration of the experiences of people who become seriously ill, which she started in Look Both Ways. I think that this film returns to some familiar ground but also extends the ideas Sarah seems to be curious about.

Despite the reality of life portrayed in the film Sarah Watt has managed to put together a story that is incredibly funny as well as having a strong emotional resonance. The "truth" of the film comes from the way by which audiences will be able to relate their own lives with the everyday Australian characters, partly because of the brilliant performances of the cast, perhaps more so because of the writing, direction and editing. There was nothing throughout the entire film that broke me out of the narrative. A special mention must go to Sacha Horler, who I have not seen in anything since Praise - she is just amazing - although the whole cast work exceptionally well.

I loved Sarah Watt's previous film Look Both Ways, which made me laugh and cry, so I had some expectations going into this film. Expectations can be dangerous, as if the experience of watching the film does not live up to them then they can be crushed. But the blend of ideas, acting, writing and direction to create consummate storytelling meant that I was thoroughly entertained.

Because of how funny and touching this film is I think it breaks out of the trap that a lot of Australian cinema seems to fall into of creating "worthy" and "important" stories, but stories that are not much fun to watch and which unfortunately can lead to the feeling that Australian film is not generally entertaining or fun. This was certainly my experience with the Australian film we watched during the week prior to this, although the flip side to "worthy" but dreary films are "quirky" Australian films with little substance, which are just as bad.

I'd strongly recommend going to see My Year Without Sex; folks living in Melbourne will especially get a kick out of it. 4/5 stars.

Cat update

My hope that the tests for Moonshe would tell us what's exactly wrong with her have done so. Her kidneys are stuffed and she has a hyper thyroid condition. That's the bad news.

The good news is that both can be managed by expensive tablets and food for the rest of her kitty days. That and we now have a much better idea about her health. I also suppose that we have been pretty lucky with our animals in that we have not had many vet bills with them. So it's a bit of a shock when one has got sick.

At the moment though we just have to keep her on a course of antibiotics and then take her back to the vet for another blood and urine test after that.

Looking up information about hyper thyroid in cats it seems that it can sometimes cause kidney damage, amongst other things, so one problem could be related to the other.

Although at the moment she seems normal, happy and purring. But she is not really the sort of animal to show much distress, though most animals don't. Today I'm going to try and get them both outside in the sun for a while as it looks like a really nice autumn May day.

Cat wee blog

Yesterday our cat was sick again, so I took her to the vet. She's sick from a recurring problem. A month ago we put her on antibiotics to clear up feline cystitis. The vet asked me to try to get a urine sample and handed me a little container and an empty syringe. He suggested filling a litter tray with cotton balls and waiting for her to pee and then suck up the cat piss. I could have bottle'd it up and call it very bad sauvignon blanc! Jokes aside, I still needed to get the vet a urine sample from a month ago, but there is no easy way of getting it with two cats needing to use a litter tray.

Also I bet you didn't expect a blog about cat urine! Anyway, the problem has happened again and she can't piss, which stressed me out yesterday. Off to the vet we go again. I've never heard Moonshe hiss before, but yesterday she was so upset she was hissing at stupid yappy dogs at the vet, the poor vet, and me and Alana when we came back to pick her up. So no piss, lots of hiss.

The vet said that we needed a urine sample. I tell him how that has been impossible to get. So poor Moonshe ends up staying at the vet. Not a happy little cat. Later on the vet calls Alana up and says they need a blood sample too.

We go to the vet to pick up our poor moggy and he tells us again that cystitus in cats is very commonly caused by stress. We say well we have moved house twice in 12 months, I finished a PhD thesis, Alana hates her job and wants to quit and I'm now stressed and unhappy about looking for work that does not seem to exist. All this stress has basically made our cat sick. So it is case of try and reduce the stress on her by being less stressed ourselves. And apparently we can get a feline de-stresser phermone releaser that plugs into the wall. I think this could be a good idea.

The vet recommended a blood test for Moonshe's kidneys so poor old Moonshe got her neck shaved where they drew blood from. So we have to wait on that result.

She must think going to the vet is a bit like being abducted by aliens: she was put on a cold stainless steel bench, she was anally probed with a cold thermometer, taken away from us, shaved, blood sample taken, injected and then forced to take tablets.

This morning she still was off her food, but I tried again at ten o'clock and she ate all that she had left. I'm happy and relieved about that. So hopefully blood tests won't reveal anything serious and tell us a bit more about what is going on if anything.

Adrift

The sun broke through the clouds while I walked to the post office.
A package was waiting there.
After hunting through pile of boxes and padded bags the man asked me to sign for it.
I scribbled something where he pointed.
It was not my name.

I walked home enjoying the warmth of the sun, once there I continued to wait.
Today it was for someone to come and fix our gas heater.
But I'm always waiting - waiting for something to happen.
For someone to call back.
For a result.

The repair man is still a no show.
So I'm sitting here.
I'm bored, tired, wanting to create, wanting to work, wanting to take some risks. But instead I'll just float through the day.
I'm adrift, a battered ship, filled with ghosts of the past, flying tattered sails, captained by a man scared to make a turn in case it forces him on to jagged rocks again.

Dark clouds have moved in again blotting out the sun.
I'm glad I went to the post office when I did.
Done for the day.
Perhaps I'll sleep, and just let this ship sink.
As no one will notice.

Upfront - The Best of the Festival's Stars in Bras at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival 2009

Last night Alana and I went to see Upfront 2009 which features the best women comedians in the Comedy Festival. It is an all woman version of the comedy Gala, which is great to see at the festival.

Upon arriving at the gig it was noticeable that more women than men had come to this event. Sitting down I was the only male in my row of seats and there were no men in the row in front of us, nor were there any men in the row behind us. Of the men that were there, they were mostly older men in their 50s or 60s. I only saw one man in my age group. It could be an instance that women wanted to see this particular show far more than men and brought their women friends along. But perhaps it could be an instance of men not thinking a "women's" comedy night was for them? Maybe men thought they might be the subject of humor and found this unsettling? Don't know. Regardless it's safe to say that 90% of the audience were women.

Corrinne Grant and Hannah Gadsby compered the show. I found Hannah a lot funnier than Corinne, but Corinne was certainly a lot better live than what she was on The Glasshouse. Corrinne had a good crack at one reviewer who claimed that the women comedians were "bitter, man-hating and a little bit lesbian". I'd also disagree with that reviewer's take on the show. A woman comedian can be bitter, man-hating, a little bit lesbian and be really funny too. These categories are not incompatible with comedy. I think both Hannah Gadsby and Sarah Millican as amazing comedians prove this point.

I don't think that I can do justice to each of the individual performances here, but there was one other noticable thing about the show. The younger women we found funnier and took far more risks than the older women. No doubt this is somewhat true for all comedians though. However, the older women featured in Upfront universally made jokes about children, childbirth, pregnancy and motherhood. Alana turned to me after the show ended and said 'There is more to being a woman than having children and being a mother.' And this was the big difference between the younger women on the show and the older women. The older women tapped into what they saw was a universal experience of being a woman, i.e. motherhood and children, whereas the younger women made comedy around other experiences women can have or indeed were simply funny without having to specifically appeal to "women's experiences".

Standouts in the show for us were Felicity Ward, Celia Pacquola and Yana Alana and the Paranas. And I've already raved about Sarah Millican. I'd certainly recommend seeing any of them without hestitation.

Where is Samuel L. Jackson when you need him?

This morning Quantas has reported that 4 pythons have escaped on board a flight from Alice Springs bound for Melbourne. Probably not the best news for those with ophiophobia but no fear of flying. Maybe one phobia will now lead to another phobia? The beleaguered airline Quantas must be looking for help, maybe someone with experience with snakes on a plane. So where the hell is Samuel L. Jackson when Quantas needs him?

In the movie Snakes on a Plane Jackson has battled snakes released on unsuspecting passengers. I bet there were a lot of people scoffing at that film who thought snakes escaping on a plane could not happen. Well what would they say now? This film also has a number of hilarious (perhaps because they are so bad?) bits of dialogue.

For instance, Jackson has delivered a fair few muthafuckins in his time, but Snakes on a Plane probably has one of the best bits of funny muthafuckin dialogue by Jackson.

Jackson: Enough is enough! I have had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane!

Snakes on a Plane is fun if you are in a mood for silly action and over the top CGI snakes. Interestingly Samuel L. Jackson was in another snake titled film following Snakes on a Plane called Black Snake Moan, although it's not to do with snakes. It is an interesting film where Jackson co-stars opposite Christina Ricci. It is a redemption film with a unique and unexpected story.