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Friday, January 31
[Exhaustion]posted by peter at 21:57 .......Was thinking about my last post and wasn't really sure why I wrote what I did. I think it was needlessly cruel, and perhaps a bit arrogant. Obviously I was in a bit of a mood, and I made generalised comments which in reality could only be applied in a few instances. But I'll leave the post there to demonstrate my capacity for bitchin'.
OK, I attended the Big Day Out today, and a full report is available here!
I'm off to Melbourne tomorrow, I leave at 6:05am, it's 11:30pm now (though Blogger likes to think differently) and I haven't packed yet. Luckily I've made a comprehensive list, so I've mentally packed, if that's at all possible. Might not be able to write here for a few days, but I'll see how I go.
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[Step up, step out]posted by peter at 16:30 .......Why must a cult of ugliness persist at events like the Big Day Out? I've just been down to the Wayville Showgrounds to set up the Headroom stall, and since the event is tomorrow, the whole place was crawling with stressed, grumpy or nasty people, all hurrying about in an effort to complete whatever task had brought them on site.
But my question pertains to the excessive use of all things kitsch, lurid and tacky. Why do we need blowup structures? And why must there always be stupid references to lost childhood, what with show rides and all? Even the people seem to be doing their best to be ugly, with horrid "I hope to induce shock" hairstyles and bad "what evil can we find in Vinnie's today" clothes prevailing. Everything is just so unattractive, and I don't know why that has to go hand in hand with 'alternative' music. (And I mean 'alternative'. The quotes are important.)
I'm reminded of that black paint which tends to be smeared on all surfaces of 'indy' nightclubs... impossible to remove, yet somehow it leaves a mark on your skin. And of course it looks vile. But for a while there you couldn't find a music venue that didn't have it.
There will certainly be some great things there tomorrow. Some of the art direction is really quite cool. But on the whole I was left with a jaded impression, because I've seen it all before, and interestingly I've never even attended a Big Day Out. That's right, this will be my first.
Womadelaide isn't likely to be much better. In previous years, in amongst the interesting installations and esoteric projections there was a plethora of unattractive wares and uninspired junk to distract you. It's probably all relates to cost effectiveness and it obviously won't stop the fun, but I wish we could see something a bit more inventive.
On another note, gee I can't wait for my trip to Melbourne this weekend!
[Trolley]posted by peter at 16:12 .......Super, my Airside tshirt finally arrived today! I arrived home to find that my postie had left a note in my mailbox, and I immediately dashed down the street to collect the item from the post office. The shirt is a greyish/fawn colour, and has a picture of a shopping trolley on it. What more could anybody want?
There is a picture of it here!
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[Pulp and seeds]posted by peter at 15:07 .......I can't entertain the notion of disliking lemongrass. It imparts such a deliciously subtle flavour, having neither the nonchalance of lemon zest nor the green bulk of other herbs. And it's so easy to use! Just bruise a stalk and chuck it in for later removal, or else slice exceedingly thin strips and use it like any other leaf. Couple it with a hint of chili and a suggestion of lime – may I also mention coriander – and good things will come your way. Fresh, light and aromatic, but firmly grounded in its savoury landscape.
Traditional lemon seems to walk the tightrope of sweet and savoury, teetering here and there on a whim. I wish it wouldn't. I for one cannot tolerate a combination of lemon and dairy; I simply cannot stand it. Please, never offer me lemon meringue pie, I find this cacophony of potent citrus and solidified egg white to be repugnant. As for 'lemon delicious', well that's one of the most deceptive names I've ever encountered, and worst of all, any sort of cheesecake imbued with lemon essence. *Stifles a dry retch*
I know other people love lemony sweets, but it's beyond the capacity of my palate. For me, lemon must only be used in a savoury fashion, or in certain beverages. In this context, it can be truly spectacular.
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[Key terms highlighted]posted by peter at 15:36 .......Treat yourself to a delectable sandwich and a scrumptious seasonal dessert. Sit back, relax, unwind... Café De Kitty.
[Xenoestrogens]posted by peter at 08:47 .......We are Sandra Violence.
[Denial of service]posted by peter at 08:08 .......For reasons uncertain, I was greatly encouraged by a recipe Melita gave me for a pumpkin and pinenut pasta. Its hearty homemade simplicity seems to portend good things.
Simply roast some pinenuts under the griller and in the meantime microwave about half a kilo of diced pumpkin. When sufficiently motivated, sauté onion and garlic for a couple of minutes. Then add turmeric, tomato paste, cumin, coriander and vegetable stock powder, cook for a while, then if not vegan perhaps add some evaporated milk. Add the drained cooked pumpkin, and bring everything to boil. Serve on pasta and sprinkle roasted pinenuts on each serve.
While that's cooking, one has time to discuss movies and other such interests. Yesterday I saw Chicago, and the word 'extravaganza' comes to mind, along with other superlative terms of praise because it really was very good. I have a preview ticket to tonight's screening of One Hour Photo which promises creepiness and thrills. Hopefully it delivers, or at the very least develops! Hehe, no apologies for the lame pun.
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[Soul]posted by peter at 13:04 .......I wonder how I'm going to die?
What's in store? A car crash, aneurism or heart attack? Perhaps a fall from a great height, or maybe I'll get shot, or even stabbed. Perhaps I'll just, to borrow from Dylan Thomas, go gentle into that good night.
No, this isn't the seeding of a new death obsession; it just seems that many people put their mortality in a box and place it far beneath their bed. From time to time, I think it can't hurt to cast one's eyes and mind upon it.
To me, cemeteries are not places of mourning, but places of earthy history and quiet contemplation. I don't visit to see the graves that swallowed the bones of my grandparents, to dwell upon the ugly fake flowers or notice the cracked, subsiding earth.
I don't go there to remember the departed. I like cemeteries for their sense of history, as if in the tombstones is inscribed the very passage of time. Little hints and clues from the past are provided in everything from the style of construction to the choice of scripture to the family's words of remembrance. Stories, memories, tears and remorse. It's as if I am strolling through the annals of the past.
My favourite cemetery story is actually quite macabre. In my hometown of Jamestown, there was of old a massive mill near the main three-chain street. One of the older and larger graves in the town cemetery holds the remains of a seemingly entrepreneurial young man who met an unfortunate end in the mill, when his coat tails became entangled in a flywheel. I'd imagine what ensued was much like that scene out of Alien 3. Altogether tragic and horrifying, and yet irresistably interesting.
It is for reasons like this that I enjoy going to graveyards. I've shed my tears for the departed, and now I prefer my memories. Earthly remains provide no comfort to me – they bear little resemblance to the dead. Instead they are fascinating reminders of how much has, and will, come to pass.
So next time you watch the tombstones shape-shift through double glazed train windows as your vehicle hurries to its destination, perhaps it's a chance to remember that one day, everyone you know will die.
[Yum Cha]posted by peter at 12:51 .......I arrived at the Mongkok restaurant on Gouger St this morning feeling very smug indeed, as I had managed to chart a complete course IN THE SHADE from the North Tce Railway Station to the restaurant. My path led me up through underpasses, Leigh St, links and alleys, through the markets which prove a fairly bad shortcut at the best of times but at least they're air conditioned, to the glorious land of Gouger. Almost entirely beyond the reach of the sun's potent rays, except for when crossing the streets.
I looked with vegetarian dismay at the yum cha offerings, but what else did I expect in a Cantonese restaurant? I've been to Mongkok for goodness sake, and I know what goes on there, everything is good for you if it doesn't kill you, if you get my drift. Still, the garlic bok choi, the vegetable dim sims and the vegetarian rice rolls went down a treat, but I was let down by the ostensibly vegan but in reality meat-filled tofu skins. The variety of textures and subtlety of flavours was what I enjoyed the most, but the lively conversation amongst us and the plentiful green tea also made for pleasant times.
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[Credit card eyes]posted by peter at 23:06 .......Nearly all of Adelaide's old-money la-di-daa set must have flocked to the King William Rd Tour Downunder Street Party tonight. I attended the event earlier this evening, and any preconceived notions were firmly shelved upon my arrival.
I had expected a middle class family-oriented 'do', but what eventuated was a sprawling parade of vacuous lifestyle; a heady mix of fusion foods, ubiquitous wines, evening gowns and enlarged two-tone gradated sunglasses.
My friends and I hit the strip and walked amongst RAV 4 pram-wielders while the fashion wraiths drifted past; people who can carry haute couture only in the financial sense – sorry folks, money can't buy elegance. Eyelashes fluttered and red lips quivered at the rumour of style-scouts in the crowd. A raised catwalk exhibited a parade as only Adelaide can do on Thursday night late trading... we stifled giggles as attractive girls and boys strutted their stuff in their own little-New-York makebelieve.
Up went the tempo, and cover bands struck up rousing radio staples; the easy listening anthems punctuated air that was already heavy with the aroma of barbecued octopus. In keeping with the cycling sport, everywhere we looked we saw competition. Whether it was a bitchy "I like Gucci more than Imitation of Christ" slap fight, a desperado diva songfest or just a good old-fashioned bouncing baby boy event, everywhere a tension prevailed.
Rising like a spectre above the proceedings was the shadow of money, and the spirit of plenty fought the ghost of overdraught in a sky devoid of cloud. What was it that prevented my enjoyment? Certainly not the company, certainly not envy. I think what I experienced was a kind of annoyance.
We responded to the onslaught by slipping into a quiet cafe, where in a window seat we could watch the world go by. A brief flicker of excitement marked the path back to mundane emptiness, which was only a short distance away.
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[Together]posted by peter at 15:02 .......Amidst the familiar faces which were out in force on my bus this morning was a couple whose behaviour I particularly object to. Actually, it's more his behaviour that I find offputting. Every time he disembarks, he stands up, leans purposefully over his girl and kisses her emphatically (and almost audibly). Meanwhile she remains seated with a stunned, or submissive, expression upon her face. Their 'togetherness' has been announced.
I know that in France they kiss on main street and all that, and it's not the public display of affection that bothers me so much as the possessive, protective and patriarchal way in which it is carried out. He is kissing her, but not vice versa. And the way he stands with his arms stretched out to support his weight against the side of the bus, completely encasing her; it all just seems so lame, as if marking territory or something.
As long as they're both happy, I suppose. I probably shouldn't be criticising displays of love on the eve of another world war.
I'm fond of the assortment of characters that I've become familiar with on my bus route. I've attached all sorts of identities to many of them, based purely on superficial impressions, gut reactions and flights of fancy. All this without a skerrick of evidence of course. Sometimes they surprise me, such as yesterday when I caught out a seemingly glamorous chick staring vainly in her compact mirror and desperately plucking at invisible chin hairs. Her glamour rating went down a few notches after that.
When you throw together a seething mass of humanity in an elongated vehicle, all manner of truths and pretenses come to light. It's like a transient window into desperation. 'Tis a dangerous world.
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[White tea]posted by peter at 11:47 .......Let it be made known: I am a tea drinker. I love it in all its manifestations; green, black, oolong and, as of today, white. My prior knowledge of this form was limited – I'd heard rumour of impending trendiness but it hasn't really happened yet. Apart from that, I was only aware that it was some sort of approximation of green tea, and yet somehow different.
So, I finally got around to trying it this morning, visiting an establishment in Flinders St and asking for a China White. (At which point Deb made some allusion and pointed to her nostril, which greatly amused the guy serving us.) I have to say that whilst the tea was deliciously refreshing, I wasn't entirely sold on it – which is lucky, given some of the prices.
The taste was mild, but contained a flavour that suggested it may have been of Sri Lankan origin, as opposed to Chinese (if that's possible). However, the major let down was that I'm fairly certain the tea was steeped in filtered Adelaide tap water.
Now, any of you who are familiar with this fine city will be aware that our tap water is borderline undrinkable. Ships apparently refuse to take on water in our port. It's completely safe, and I do drink it, but it's horrible. Ultra-chlorinated for your enjoyment, but that's what happens when all the Murray's water is siphoned and poisoned upstream by rice growing and other irresponsible industry.
Anyway, I am of firm belief that tea must be made with completely pure water, and that condition was not satisfied this morning. I guess that's one of the reasons why I almost never bother drinking it outside my own home.
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[Equator]posted by peter at 18:11 .......This humidity is a timely reminder that I should never endeavour to live in Singapore.
[Forever Summer]posted by peter at 08:38 .......All of my houseplants are symbolically dying, as if in recognition of the fact that I am moving to Melbourne. I'm not talking about difficult plants whose lives seem to balance on the edge of a knife; the kind that require an exact and optimum balance of light, water, ambient humidity and temperature. No, I'm talking about exceedingly hardy houseplants; the sort that are nigh impossible to kill. Yet there they are, browning and wilting more and more each day. They must know that I cannot take them with me.
The one exception is my cyclamen, which is doing amazingly well in its bathroom location. However, it is yet to burst forth an array of spectacular blooms, so perhaps this represents the anticipation that is currently shrouding my 'big life change'. *Searches for other household objects to which ironic meaning might be attached or derived*
Oh great, I just had a sudden recollection of the woman who sat next to me in the cinema yesterday. There she was, munching away on a choc-top and bathing in a cloud of the most penetratingly vile imitation perfume, and this had mingled with her sweat to produce a fell aura – a mist which heralded not the coming of the Autumn.
For the first time in my life, I have seen Saturday Night Fever in its entirety, and best of all I watched it on Saturday night. I didn't expect such dark thematic content. Now, exposed brick (cf. the Manhattan apartment in the film) is all very well, but try sleeping directly next to it and being occasionally woken by the discomfort associated with accidentally grating your head against the said ugly surface. As Jess always says, "render, render, render!"
And now the weather has turned all humid. How offensive. But I'm coping better now, having just found out that Pippa is back! Very exciting.
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[Find the shade]posted by peter at 20:33 .......More stifling, blistering and depression-inducing hot weather; I managed to survive the morning by stretching out on the couch, listening to some squaa tunes and finishing off The Fellowship of the Ring. Then when it all became too much I braved the elements, boarded an old bus (of course it wasn't airconditioned) and ventured into town... where needless to say it wasn't any cooler.
But I was prepared for that, and I stepped directly into Borders where I was able to harass Deb in the Art & Design section for a time. Hmm, think I might need the DIK book, but should think twice. Then I visited filthy Ange and we sat in a cool draught in a dirty back-alley behind her cinema. She smoked a cigarette and we spoke of boredom and multinational alienation, which was kind of boho edgy.
I hurried off to purchase chocolate and then made for the Palace where I saw The Quiet American. I didn't find this film to be as good as the Movie Show review suggested, but it had some tremendously powerful moments (a certain bomb blast springs to mind) and the film left me with a renewed hunger to actually delve into history and understand the mechanisms that drove the Vietnam War. Certainly it was a good way to escape the heat, and it was nice to emerge from a film that was set in Saigon and immediately detect the aroma of incense.
I followed this by coffee with Deb (I'm into cappuccinos now I think) and now I'm back at home coping with copious heat.
PS. Help yourself to hyperlinks.
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[Poach]posted by peter at 14:20 .......I was invigorated by the discovery of an incredibly simple recipe in an old magazine at Jess' garage sale this morning. Basically it's bruschetta, but instead of a typical topping it has grilled brown pears, fetta cheese (could be über modern and use haloumi instead) and baby spinach leaves. I think the bread was brushed with olive oil, but I cannot recall any other form of dressing. In any case, it sounds intriguing.
It's likely that nobody wants to know this, but my right nipple is chafed from the Mt Lofty climb this morning. Rather uncomfortable... as if a tshirt can inflict that sort of condition – no wonder professional joggers wear bandaids over their nipples. I really struggled with the climb today, and lacked energy both physically and mentally.
At least there was the garage sale to look forward to. What more could people want than a bunch of assorted junk arranged (or perhaps accumulated) in shabby-chic piles out the front of a house? Jessica was quite generous, often giving away items just so that she wouldn't ever have to deal with them again. I suppose that's what one does when one is moving interstate the next day. I must start assembling more concrete plans regarding my Melbourne move; all I know at this stage is that it will occur in early April and I don't want to take any furniture with me at all, if I can help it.
I think I'll be buying an airbed.
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[Pay royalties, put up a parking lot]posted by peter at 15:04 .......Hearing an incredibly bad soft-rock-adult-contemporary-utterly-forgettable cover version of Big Yellow Taxi has put me in a foul mood. We ain't talking no Cat Power reinterpretation here, building on the original and offering new thoughts and such. No no, we're talking a contemptible slaughtering of the said classic. It just isn't right. Who sang it anyway? Bryan Adams or someone equally lame? No, I'm surprised, it was the Counting Crows... they used to be alright, but they've descended a long way since August and Everything After. Maybe it wasn't them. It sounded too crap. Perhaps it was another awful rendering. Grrrr.
This post really should have gone in my music section, but it's had too big an impact on my day, and that section is supposed to be about music I actually like.
[Ring those changes]posted by peter at 09:51 .......My new year's resolution was to get fat. I want a complete role reversal.
I don't think I made resolutions so much as just set a few goals. 2003 is quite clearly the year of living dangerously, and the winds of change are blowing in from the gulf of uncertainty.
In 2003 I want to tread lightly on the planet whilst at the same time making my existence known to all the nations of the world. I will rise. It's my year, and nobody can stop me.
How about you?
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[Centre of mass]posted by peter at 09:00 .......A short while ago, we saw from our third-floor office window that a large commercial fridge had fallen off the back of a ute and landed unceremoniously on the road. It straddled an entire lane of traffic, and broken glass and other debris was strewn across the bitumen. The next interesting thing was watching oncoming cars suddenly spot the fridge and slam on their brakes to narrowly avoid crashing into it.
You see, the bend of a road is not the ideal place to set down an industrial-sized fridge.
Fortunately no accidents occurred, and two very responsible young men ran to the median strip to remove the obstruction from the traffic's path. Then the drivers of the ute showed up. As one would expect, they looked ever so slightly stressed. In their agitated state, they efficiently recovered their waylaid goods, and drove off to face whatever trouble that may have been invited.
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[The village chief]posted by peter at 23:32 .......Communities have changed but I wouldn't know the difference. I grew up in a rural community which regarded sport, pubs and perhaps Catholic worship as the vehicles of community participation. Unfortunately, I lost all interest in sport in late high school, I was underage and Protestant (I don't want to imply any denominational discrimination; it's just that the Catholic church enjoyed the largest attendance), so I wasn't exactly a pillar of the community. Luckily my decent academic results won me a few points, but other than that I was seen as fairly weird and suspected of dubious sexual orientation.
I was locked down in suburban Adelaide for a few years, which I found depressing, and it is only since moving to an eventful and over/unfriendly near-city townhouse block that I've really experienced 'community'. All its ups and downs.
We don't really have public space here because people converge on suburban shopping centres or the private space equivalent in the CBD. I hear people bemoaning the lack of focal points and the decline of 'community'. The piazzas of Europe or the quaint meeting-points of the Orient arose either through localised trade or because of crushing population density combined with bank-breaking real estate prices. The Australian dream of a house, yard, car, dog/cat and a few kids all safely fenced in behind a colourbond perimeter hardly fosters community-mindedness.
In the Australian case, it is clear how a sort of (if you'll forgive the oxymoron) ‘localised globalisation’ comes into play, as people's lives no longer revolve around small geographic areas. Couple this with the changing nature of the family and new employment structures (not to mention American-bred paranoia) and we have a recipe for altered communities. Who wants to loll about with the psychopath from three doors down? And who can be bothered being community-minded after commuting for an hour on tollways, reversible roads or inadequate public transport?
Sure, urban design has a significant role, but you can't fight the psyche. Hence people are looking to thirdspace, and finding solace in the online world. Welcome.
[Three discrete concepts]posted by peter at 12:54 .......Like a ghost I walk the interchanges, Paradise, Klemzig, Marion, CBD, barely casting a shadow on the tessellated pavements. I leave no more a trace than any of the others. Elongated vehicles with stretchy sections spirit the dispirited over concrete, river and dust, towards destinations they don't like or towards people they do.
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Much of the talent in Barbershop Quartet singing lies in the ability to harmonise and then deliberately waver to the verge of discordance before shifting notes.
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I've seen a lot of Asian tourists around at the moment. Perhaps something to do with the Tour Downunder? Whatever the case, it's heartening and reassuring to be reminded that things continue as usual in Tokyo.
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[5 day weekends]posted by peter at 17:23 .......When I think back on the weekend, all I'm aware of is having spent nearly the entire time embedded in Sandra's supremely comfy Moran sofa. I was down at Pt Elliot, where the North wind was blowing, bringing heat in from the desert. Very hot. However, as is customary down there, a cool change swept through bringing cool weather and refreshment.
From within the confines of my sofa, I watched a number of DVDs and episodes of Nigella's Forever Summer. I thoroughly enjoyed the film Gosford Park. Much green tea was consumed – how I love that beverage – and much interesting discussion arose within our eclectic group.
I caught the bus back this afternoon, but it was delayed. The police directed us down a different route for some unknown reason, and our little mystery tour took us past all of Southern suburbia. The land of themed gardens in the land of housing estates.
The trail of a jet stitched a seam in the January sky, and I stared out the window and remembered scenes from my childhood. Most of my memories seem to be rooted in feelings and emotions, as opposed to the recollection of actual events. I'm not sure which are the more powerful, but such sessions of reminiscence leave me feeling a little... I don't know.
I wish I could remember who it was that told me I'd never find a partner because I'm chasing perfection.
It's Sonia's birthday today, happy birthday luvvie, and I'm about to go and meet some friends for coffee.
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[Woven by your friends]posted by peter at 16:26 .......It seems that my fitness waxes and wanes like a lunar cycle, and thus nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught of the Mt Lofty climb this morning. Whilst I definitely fared better than I did on my first-ever attempt, I struggled on the steep sections and needed frequent stops. The still air and early-morning heat didn't contribute in any positive way either, but onwards and upwards my friend. Given the severity of Adelaide Summers (and this one has been quite mild), it's usually just out of the question to attempt an ascent, and I don't even know why I agreed to it this morning. In any case, I feel quite virtuous for having done so.
I'm on a bit of a fitness drive at the moment, which I link directly with my current obsession with Asian food. Something about cubes of tofu and shredded basil leaves with soy sauce on a bed of glass noodles (sticklers for authenticity would probably be mortified) seems to promote health and wellbeing, and exercise is an obvious by-product. I've even been *admits reluctantly* doing the tiniest bit of weights training – how lame – which perhaps demonstrates my vain and self-congratulatory nature even better than this here website.
Jess' new haircut looks ace by the way!
All this leads to one inevitable question: why is it that I've never once baked a batch of friands? Not only are they amongst my favourite cake-like treats, but as they consist of little more than egg-white and almond meal they should keep the low-fat freaks happily munching inside the walls of their celery stick houses. It's a fat-free-fiesta!
Now, if you'll excuse me for a while, I have to go away and imagine living in Europe.
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[Harry's House/Centerpiece]posted by peter at 13:12 .......Heatwaves on the runway
As the wheels set down
He takes his baggage off the carousel
He takes a taxi into town
Yellow schools of taxi fishes
Jonah in a ticking whale
Caught up at the light in the fishnet windows
Of Bloomingdale's
Watching those high fashion girls
Skinny black models with Raveen curls
Beauty parlor blondes with credit card eyes
Looking for the chic and the fancy
To buy
He opens up his suitcase
In the continental suite
And people twenty stories down
Look like colored currents in the street
A helicopter lands on the Pan Am roof
Like a dragonfly on a tomb
And business men in button downs
Press into conference rooms
Battalions of paper-minded males
Talking commodities and sales
While at home their paper wives
And paper kids
Paper the walls to keep their gut reactions hid
Yellow checkers for the kitchen
Climbing ivy for the bath
She is lost in House and Gardens
He's caught up in Chief of Staff
He drifts off into the memory
Of the way she looked in school
With her body oiled and shining
At the public swimming pool ...
The more I'm with you, pretty baby
The more I feel my love increase
I'm building all my dreams around you
Our happiness will never cease
'Cause nothing's any good without you
Baby you're my centerpiece
We'll find a house and garden somewhere
Along a country road a piece
A little cottage on the outskirts
Where we can really find release
'Cause nothing's any good without you
Baby you're my centerpiece
...Shining hair and shining skin
Shining as she reeled him in
To tell him like she did today
Just what he could do with Harry's House
And Harry's take home pay
- Joni Mitchell
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[Fruity]posted by peter at 21:49 .......Suggestion: for a decadent treat, it's hard to go past pairing fresh raspberries with dark chocolate Tim-Tams. I discovered it today, quite by accident. Take note, the dark chocolate variety is of upmost importance – milk chocolate has no place with fresh fruit. I couldn't believe that my local fruit shop was selling generous punnets for only $2... hello bargain land.
Alright, while we're on the topic of raspberries, I might as well mention the cake that Jess and I baked last night. It was essentially a flourless mudcake with ample dark chocolate, a hint of coffee and plenty of whole fresh raspberries, but my favourite ingredient was 150g of almond meal, which lent a superb texture to the final creation. We also mixed up a sumptuous dark chocolate ganache which we liberally drizzled over the exceedingly rich, moist cake... four of us ate the whole thing and afterwards felt a little out of our minds.
I returned to work today, but there's not much to report there. I just watched the hilarious film Best in Show and now I'm merely delaying the inevitable continuation of work... :(
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[Graduate]posted by peter at 10:35 .......In many ways it is fortunate that I bothered to make the journey out to uni today, because as I suspected, this fine institution had no idea that I am eligible for graduation. So at least I've set the machines in motion with regard to that little oversight.
Three more benefits have been derived from my trip: (1) I've borrowed a stack of DVDs (including the relatively obscure Hana-bi) which I have no intention of returning on time, (2) I caught up with my friend Amy and (3) I'm about to lodge my timesheet so that I can get paid for some web work and make some inroads on my credit card debt (which has just been increased by the purchase of my Beth Orton ticket and will likely be further incremented with an Airside tshirt).
I'm now of the belief that my sore throat was not tonsilitis, but instead the beginning of a cold. Golly it was painful though.
Tonight I'm going to a 'bring who you like' karate night, which should be a good laugh.
[Vine]posted by peter at 10:26 .......Gosh news travels fast, that's what I always say.
Also, spare a thought for Pippa, who's been stuck in Amsterdam with few funds and no place to call home.
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[Pluck]posted by peter at 20:37 .......I've been harvesting crabapple or plum-like fruit from a tree that overhangs into strata property from next door. They are really delicious – I'm usually very wary of plums, but these have grape-like qualities and at times a hint of cherry. Gathering fresh produce makes me feel all domestic and wholesome, as if I'm in touch with the earth or something weird. Deb says that it's vile to eat fruit from a tree that's growing in an urban environment, and has hinted at remnant pollution and other toxins, and stated that any such practice is inherently creepy. I have no problem with it. It's her loss, ultimately. :)
This particular fruit tree is an absolute winner, because aside from bearing tasty fruit, it also displays an abundance of spectacularly beautiful blossoms in the Autumn which last extremely well indoors – good for a Japanese theme or something.
I just heard something which sounded like a gunshot outside. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened in Unley; somebody was shot in the face shortly before I moved here, in the next street.
[Help yourself]posted by peter at 19:46 .......I am less than impressed with my family's reaction to the news that I will probably move to Melbourne in April. Dad seemed to get all depressive, even though I pointed out the fact that I have ALWAYS made it exceedingly clear (and he has therefore ALWAYS known) that I wouldn't hang around here for the rest of my life. Sonia said outright that she wasn't the least bit happy for me. So I spoke to a few friends who were supportive and excited, which raised my spirits somewhat. (They were already dampened by tonsilitis as it was.)
What led to my decision was the news that Jessica will be moving there in two weeks. It really was the last straw; I am losing three of my most important women in the next month or so – Melita is moving to Canberra, Jess is going to Melbourne and Deb is very likely heading to Sydney. But I'm supposed to just stagnate around here indefinitely. I don't think so. As I've said before, I really love living in Adelaide, but there is more out there.
Perhaps I just didn't time the news very well, as evidently mum and dad are considering a retirement to Adelaide sometime in 2003.
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[Another shop assistant]posted by peter at 22:42 .......I really hate Jetty Rd in Glenelg, but still I somehow find it interesting to visit. I came across the creepiest shop assistant, he seized upon me and started telling me about how their shop was the only one in Adelaide that stocked some quasi-exclusive brand from Sydney and then proceeded to say that he was so excited about a new product and couldn't wait to show me and that he would show me anyway. It was a matching set of under/outerwear which consisted of red striped not-quite-boxer shorts and some sort of vile not-quite-tank-top singlet thing made of the same fabric. He told me that it was just the best thing ever because you could sleep in these undergarments as if they were pyjamas, and then get straight up, pull on a pair of jeans and head straight out of the house. Like, wow, yaa, I'll pull on my pants and then let's meet for cawwwffeeee.
I said that there were some fundamental hygiene issues with this concept, and left the store soon after.
Like I said, I hate Jetty Rd. I might need to book a ticket to Hong Kong just so I can shop for wicked clothes in peace.
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[When the world stops for snow]posted by peter at 18:12 .......For those of you who may be into ambient existential mood-based experiences, I highly recommend heading into a large inner city train station early on a Sunday morning and listening to the Goldfrapp track Deer Stop while watching stray commuters straggle through turnstyles before assimilating with the suburban line. 'Tis gold.
Lutheran multimedia church was as vibrant and interactive as ever this morning, and I recovered from the exertion with a disappointing lunch at the New York Bar & Grill. At least the company was brilliant.
I've just been to see Bowling for Columbine, and as a certain electronic musician said at an awards ceremony, everyone really must see this film. It's just so interesting; if you're not already disillusioned with the state of things then this film will help.
Oh, and have I mentioned how much I love Droste cocoa as a base for a hot drink? It's Dutch processed and is so dark, rich and aromatic. Totally addictive. It's lucky that I'm returning to work next week, as I'm running low on my supply and the only place I know where to get it from is in leafy old North Adelaide.
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[The depths of Mirkwood]posted by peter at 17:29 .......Evidently there's some sort of semipopular movement which is suggesting a queer reading of The Lord of the Rings movies, particularly with regard to the characters of Frodo and Sam. Whilst director Peter Jackson has no doubt supplied some ripe fodder for hordes of slash fictionalists, can't we leave the sexualisation of this classic story to these writers and their fans? I just don't feel like turning a couple of films which I've enjoyed immensely into another highly-strung gender studies discussion.
I'm actually hooked on The Hobbit again, and I've decided to re-read the whole series for what I think is the third time. I don't have many books that fall into the 're-read' category, so I don't consider it to be any sort of time wastage. :)
[Zoo York]posted by peter at 17:04 .......Nearly every creature in the Adelaide zoo looked hot, uncomfortable and slightly out of its mind, exceptions being the giraffes, the musk oxen (or whatever they were), the nocturnal exhibits and the zebras. Many creatures seemed to have their mouths open in a peculiar expression of derangement and frustration – myself included, hehe – but it was very interesting nonetheless.
The zoo is not only a journey into the animal kingdom, but also into the world of strollers and young families. Time spent waiting at the gates of the zoo, which incidentally affords an attractive aspect of the river, city and parklands, provided just a hint of the family-fest that I was to encounter within the sturdy, old walls. I couldn't help but be reminded that I must never have children.
I went there with Miriam, Sekove and my nieces and nephew, and I really enjoyed watching the kids' reactions to the various creatures. Responses ranged from indifference and familiarity through to outright astonishment; the latter being the sort that you look for in a zoo environment. The kids had never been to a zoo before (I don't even know if Fiji has one) so there was certainly an educational aspect to the day's events.
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[Kate]posted by peter at 14:30 .......Thankfully I was able to catch up with Kate before she catches a flight back to Melbourne this evening. I took her to an excellent coffee shop that we discovered yesterday, where they have posters of Krzysztof Kieslowski films and other cinema classics and outdoor tables beneath luxuriant plane trees. It's sandwiched between several highrise (by Adelaide standards) buildings and they serve delicious hot chocolate in stainless steel jugs (but you drink it from a cup that is also supplied). Being there actually feels a bit like Melbourne.
Anyway, after that we went back to my house and chatted for several hours. I miss Kate – all those truckin' stories and all – so I really appreciated the opportunity to spend pleasant time with her!
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[Closed for the holidays]posted by peter at 22:00 .......What can be said about New Year's Eve that hasn't already been said before? Fighting my way through phenomenal levels of disorganisation and a truly choked SMS network, I managed to catch up with a super bunch of Selena-related friends in a city hotel, before coughing up the $25 and heading to Minke. As usual, Skylab was the place to be, oh those white Bose speaker stacks really do it for me and the funkiest music is there; level one was two loud for my liking and the floor in the basement was covered in smashed glass which glittered prettily in the ambient THC haze (nothing to do with me, let me make that clear). Tracks down there tended to tread a fine line between excellent and incredibly lame, but goodness I had a fun alcohol-free time before catching one of the free buses home at about 3am.
Fortunately I (narrowly) avoided the bulk of the melodramas that seem to go hand-in-hand with any celebration these days. The night wasn't without its fair share of over-emotive scenes.
This is going to sound so vile and elitist, but it seemed like the whole of the Northern suburbs had descended upon the city for the evening. There were so many gross people out and about, both in the clubs and beyond. It was a festival of offensive behaviour, baggy Dada clothing and chicks in loose-fitting black Adidas tracksuits with the white stripes on the sleeves. I hope there weren't too many interstate visitors in the city that night, as it would only have reinforced existing negative Adelaide stereotypes. Absolute creeps seemed to insidiously abound, and as Deb questioned, how on Earth were these people allowed in when other young, interesting folk may have been forced to wait outside in the rain? And why were people trying to strike up conversation with me when I clearly wasn't interested? Quit lingering, I say.
Thank goodness I was able to make my way to Jessica's house of soul restoration, where we consumed lots of tasty food and I learned to play Backgammon. This morning provided an excellent opportunity to stroll through the Japanese gardens and the city's residential quarter, before lunch at Everest, which was followed by vigorous browsing through innumerable shops. What is with things being closed for the holidays? Clearlight, Thea (this was most distressing, they are relocating apparently), Red Star and more, all closed for the holidays. I overcame my disappointment with the purchase of some very squaa Carhartt corduroy jeans – pair these with my new shoes and I'll be a vision in corduroy, resplendent in chocolate-brown.
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