Hmmm.

Marilyn Manson singing the Ramones' KKK Took My Baby Away followed by a Michael Jackson song on iTunes shuffle.

Wrongness.

Getting ditched* via email c'est le suck.

And Milo is not that comforting.

Even by the spoonful.

But here's something about the 2008 Turner Prize that I found interesting. Apparently art-snarking is enough to console me.

It's still why I want to film setting a couch on fire, pelting it with custard and then jumping up and down on the scorched remains. That's sure to get some kind of government grant. And as for the reason for its existence, well, make something up. And the more it sounds like existential bollocks, the better.

*Well, kinda, sorta, mostly, not sure.

^ Hello, possums!

I bought a bunch of gladioli on Friday. My pappa used to grow gladis back on our farm in his garden. He'd come up from the garden with arm-fulls of them, all sorts of colours and varieties. All of them gorgeous, especially some of the hybrid multi-coloured ones.

This afternoon I accidentally had a nanna-nap while reading and ended up dreaming about both my Nanna and Pappa, who are both dead. In the dream, it was back on the farm and I was looking for my dog. My Pappa was down in the wooded area near their house and I ran up to him, embraced him and kissed his cheek, telling him how much I loved him. I could feel the scratchy stubble he almost always had on my cheek. He was gruffly pleased. Then I ran up the yard and around the shed corner and found my Nanna. I hugged and kissed her, again telling her how much I loved her.

All of it was rather strange. But at least it was better than the rest of the dreams during the nanna-nap.

Update: Ended up watching Compass's "Losing The Plots" about Rookwood cemetery tonight. Really interesting, but the people being whiney about "Oh, cemeteries further out of town would be so hard to visit" seemed a little unusual. My grandparents are buried back in the Barossa, hundreds of kilometres away. Now that's hard to visit. Fascinated by the people who are pre-buying their plots to the point of not just having the area picked out, but also tombstones made and engraved with most of the information. And things with how people are so anxious to make sure their ancestors have graves that are big enough to help out with the Sydney rental crisis.

It's obviously true that cemeteries are as much about the living as they are about the dead.

There will be blood oranges

^ Love blood oranges.

They have a potential to look somewhat gruesome, but they're delicious.

When I turned my camera on to take pix of the one I cut in half this morning, something odd was going on. It looked almost like condensation was on the lense, so I cleaned the external lense bit and it wasn't any better. Started to freak out because the camera's just a basic one, not a DSLR where I could get into it a bit more. This one is unable to be dismantled. What if it was broken forever?! What would I do without my camera?!?!?

So I dug around in the bathroom cabinet for the thing I never, ever use - my hairdryer.

Switched it on to fan only and wafted it over the camera. It worked! So who knows what had happened, but I'm so glad things are okay now. Without my camera, I would have ended up curled into a ball, staring at the wall.

(Almost) Domestic Goddess

^ Hoping this chocolate, raspberry and cherry tart tastes okay. I made it for dinner tonight, having never made anything like it before. Had a whole lot of the chocolate stuff left over, so I cooked it in ramekins and it's sort of pudding-like. Interesting at least.

Also whipped up potato dauphinoise and will roast some pumpkin, steam asparagus and make a salad. So domestic.

Update: Chocolate tart was... Err... Delicious. Except the pastry was chewy! And nigh on impossible to cut through with a spoon. Not sure that even a chainsaw would have worked on it. So I'm not totally sure what happened with it. It was crispy-luscious when it came out of the oven, but such is life.

But the dauphinoise and pumpkin and everything else was sooooo good. Next time around, I'll just have to do something different when it comes to the chocolate tart. Perhaps make it separately, like a marquise or something. Considering how ridiculously simple and luscious the chocolate/berry part is, it's a keeper.

Now thinking of retiring with The Count.

Yeah... No.

Thank God we've moved away from the early-90s flannel/lumberjack kind of items on offer over Winter and Spring/Summer's looking a bit more 70s. This led me to say to a friend yesterday that the early 90s were almost worse than the 80s for fashion. My reasoning was that the designer stuff was really conceptual, angular and interesting.

I'm thinking of taking that all back now.

That's mostly thanks to Sam Sparro and Wiley with some truly horrifying 80s-inspired clips. They feature all of the worst of the 80s, all mashed together in two vids of wrongness. That sort of thing should be left back in the 80s, hidden from memory unless you open a family photo album. So I hope they get smothered with happy pants and mullets.

I want Madonna's boots from Give it to me, though.

And I can hear my neighbour shouting at the grand final footy in his lounge room from here in my lounge room.

^ New lamp. Going to have to change things around in the bedroom to suit it a bit more. Too many books, too many shoes, etc. So much for spring cleaning.

Brains, balls and books

This week has been brain frazzling.

And I had intended to write some more serious/thoughtful things on my blog.

As well as the strange thing of being hit with a billiard ball AND a bouncy ball in the foot while shopping on Tuesday and today. What does such a thing mean? Shopping is balls? Who knows. Seriously, who goes around supermarkets/shops aiming balls at people anyway?

Victoria, you are full of freaks!

And that's why I think I enjoy this State.


^ The billiard ball. Strange...

I think I was going to write something about early-Christmas rage, too. Saw Santa teddybears in the shop on Tuesday night and was horrified (also felt an intense desire to stuff one in the freezer cabinets with the ice-cream). They had Christmas trees and tinsel and so on in stores I was at today, though. Tinsel's a whole other matter, though. That doesn't induce early-Christmas rage, probably because it's shiny and so much fun in an utterly impractical way (ie: "The world's on the brink of recession. But look at the tinsel shine!").


^ The offending bear. And no, I didn't do that to it.

Apart from all of that, The Count of Monte Cristo has been absorbing all of my spare time. Again. And it means I've been going to bed late, as well. Somehow it's an enormously enjoyable read and although it's 11pm, you think, "Oh... Just one more chapter before I turn the light off can't hurt." And then one more chapter has become a whole lot more and it's 11.45pm and you've got to be up for work in six-and-a-half hours.

Tempted to go read more of it now...

My excuse can be that I've got seven completely new and unread books on my bedside table and the sooner I finish The Count, the sooner I can move on to them. Not like I'm going to say I should just stop buying books for the time being, is it?

The reviews about Embedded with Sheik Hilaly saying it's like shooting fish in a barrel is basically correct. But here I am, watching it anyway. Mainly because The Bill repeat is on late on ABC2 tonight and I need something to distract me before I gaze adoringly at hot British blokes. In police uniforms.

*ahem*

It's interesting enough. And a little bizarre, especially with delving further into the "uncovered meat" thing, which seems more like getting out a spade and digging the hole a bit deeper. Mostly with that exchange, I wished Keyser Trad would shush. Regardless, it still sounded ridiculous.

I don't think this documentary did anyone any favours and perhaps SBS could have done better. I mean, we had Salam Cafe, which was excellent and I think it made Muslim-related practices and beliefs a little more accessible to the general public. Perhaps it seems so much better than the doco because it's more fluid. Embedded seemed more like a bunch of things thrown together and didn't gel too well.

Anyway. I hear Newstopia's returning soon, so that's something to look forward to.

^ To see through a water bottle, darkly...

I hate leggings.

Went to the NGV Ian Potter Centre to see the New Perspectives on the Contemporary Collection before it closes. It was somehow less exciting than I thought it would be. Maybe because a lot of contemporary art is underwhelming.

No, I will go further than that (perhaps because I'm extremely tired). A lot of contemporary art is a flaming pile of bollocks.

But the great thing was the Klippel/Klippel: Opus 2008 exhibit.

A little old Indian security guard guy showed me around the exhibit and was rather helpful and full of information in general. I loved how tiny and delicate the majority of Klippel's sculptures were. But the best thing was the use of lighting. The first room was really rather dark, with the second being blindingly white when you enter it. When your eyes adjust, there's another lot of minature sculptures, all rather mechanical.

Not so fussed on the sculptures, but I loved the lighting.

And the stark white room. It was almost oppressive, somewhat embracing but alienating and I would love to know what it would be like without the boxes of sculptures in it. Sort of sensory deprivatory, perhaps, which has a strange appeal.

Ugh.

Dentist appointment on the horizon.

With the dentist I don't like.

Double ugh.

Why did I have to inherit the teeth genes from the English side of the family? I worry I'll end up with teeth like Jaws. Not the shark. I mean the Bond henchman.

Update: Not so bad. They don't have the dentist I don't like there any more. Other dentist was rough, but thorough. Jaw still somewhat sore, but what can you do. Was the longest time I've ever been drilled and filled by a dentist, though. Ouch. And wasn't that happy with the cut lip, either.

Fran: And so what? So they blanked you.
Bernard: So what?! So what?! They blanked me! That's like an awesomely powerful thing to do in civilised society! It's like, it's like, it's like when the Mafia send each other fish through the post.
- The Blackout, Black Books.

This quote reminded me of today. Which was just bizarre.

In other thoughts, how completely unsurprising was the Brendan Nelson/Malcolm Turnbull thing today? Had meant to blog about it last night, but forgot. Kind of felt a little sorry for Brendoc somehow. But Turnbull has more charisma and seems far more calm, cool and collected when it comes to working with the media. Plus, I liked Julie Bishop's heels at the press conference.

But that's about it.

^ Snow and ice.

^ Coming down from the snow tonight.

Last night, him on the phone, ranting angrily about "Christians" for quite a while. Then suddenly he stops and says, "Oh. I'm so sorry. You're a Christian, aren't you. You're not like them, though."

This morning, SMS from him. He's at Mass.

I'm puzzled.

This afternoon, I was thinking about Doctor Who and the way in which daleks and cybermen always return. Even after they've been utterly destroyed and gotten rid of and shall never be seen again.

But next series, there they are again.

Having hidden behind the sofa.

Just brush off the cat fur, and there we are. Like some sort of elderly relative wheeled out at Christmas. They're ready to go again, away to terrorise the solar system and try to bring the universe to an end. Or destroy all humanity. Or hand out elderly peppermints. Or whatever their latest activity may be.

All that said, I still really like Doctor Who and not just because David Tennant is in it. But really, what about a new kind of monster/alien being that's appropriately humanity-free and wonderfully intimidating?

^ Devil kitty, his eye and him about to pounce. I know the pic of the pounce is all blurry, but the way his tongue is poking out in concentration is too cute.

He's a nutter. A scratchy, grumpy nutter.

Overheard on the peasant wagon today

Random chumpy ginger guy: She's got a nice personality.
Girl he's with: People always say that about fat girls. If you haven't noticed, I'm not the skinniest girl in the world. If I ever hear you saying that about me, I'll punch you in the nuts.
Random chumpy ginger guy: *looks fidgety*

Mum and Dad sent me their spare copies of Dad's Army DVDs and videos and I watched the episode Ring Dem Bells this afternoon. Nearly cried with laughter over Pike standing out of the top of the van, being all German soldier-y.

I love the gentle ridiculousness of Dad's Army.

Pike: (dressed in a German officer's uniform and speaking with a German accent) Schweinhund! You haf five seconds to tell us your plans or it is kaput! (back to English accent) I like being an officer, don't you, Uncle Arthur?

I am in lust with this.

Why must it be in Germany!?

In other thoughts, this site dedicated to the work of Verner Panton is really fascinating. And kind of kitsch, but in a wonderful way.

Obviously I have a schitzophrenic approach to interior decoration, considering the ultra-sleek prefab modernism and then the 60s/70s glorious horror. And how my house in no way currently represents either of them, but a total jumble of styles.

Reminds me to finish painting, actually.

A paradox, a paradox...

Photo from The Age.

To be honest, I'm actually rather excited about the Large Hadron Collider (LHC) being fired up today. This might be a fantastic way of finding out more about particle processes, dark matter and explore the differences between matter and anti-matter.

Maybe there is a possibility of it causing black holes or the end of the universe or something, but meh. Why not see what happens? I highly doubt it's going to cause the end of ages or the world to be sucked in to itself or a profusion of purple velvet flared trousers to suddenly appear out of nowhere.

I'm astounded the scientists working on the project have been receiving death threats (and that article is also fantastic for this bit: "Prof[essor] Brian Cox of Manchester University, add[s]: 'Anyone who thinks the LHC will destroy the world is a twat.'"). You sort of wonder, "What, so people are saying, 'If you cause the end of the world and kill everyone, I'm coming 'round to kill you!'?" People have more to worry about from climate change, and yet they get all hot and bothered about some particles colliding.

Even better is that there are a couple scientists who say this could be the beginning of time travel (see the quote by Professor Cox at the end of the article). Obviously they've been watching too much Dr Who. And who knows what might happen if people went back in time and accidentally stopped the LHC being created or some other paradox...

Update: Oh my goodness. People really are that stupid (although it is the Herald Sun) (thanks, RP).

^ Mucking around with the lillies and a torch last night.

^ Photos from Friday night.

There comes a strange moment in a relationship when you realise that someone sees you in a very different (and rather inaccurate) fashion, compared to the way you actually are. It's their fantasy version of you who's far more interesting than the real you. And they're so sure that their version of you is the real one that no matter what you say to the contrary, they think you're being cute/a liar/a cute liar.

Which is awkward.

And kind of sad when you realise just how dull you are...

H'anyway.

I have tonsillitis. Lucky me! Just when I started feeling better on Thursday and was thinking, "Ah, finally this 'flu is gone!" I woke up on Friday with an uber-sore throat. By Saturday, swallowing was agony. By Sunday, I'd made quite a lot of jelly. Jelly's really nice, but not for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Went to the doctor today to see if there was anything I should be doing about it, but the only thing I really should have done was stay at work. Doctor said whatever I was doing was working and they looked like they were getting better. Hurrah for Betadine concentrated sore throat gargle. The doctor also said it's not something to really worry about when it comes to sharing it, as it's inside the mouth. I just said, "Ah, so no tongues then." He laughed.

See? This is how exciting my life really is.

^ Stump and metal.

^ Tree sap stuff.

^ Arum lilly curl.

^ Flowers found on walk at lunchtime.

Random recent conversation

"Girls don't like scars," he tells me, referring to the scars he owns. Not that I'd actually really noticed them.

I think about it for a while and then say, "I think they can be kind of hot. Maybe they make people look more interesting or something like that."

"Maybe."

There's a pause.

"How did you get that scar on your back?" he asks.

"I fell in the shower when I was 12 or so," I reply. "When it happened, I could put my whole hand into my back under the skin. Blood everywhere. It took 17 stitches to close it up. But it's all good. The scar's a lot smaller than it used to be, really."

"It's still pretty f*****g huge," is all he says.

I like the scar on my back.

Walking to work

It should be a time that allows for philosophical reflection.

But instead, today I had a medley of Fiddler on the Roof songs going through my head. That was rather peculiar.

After three weeks of the 'flu, I feel like I'm finally emerging from the 'flu-haze and returning to some variety of normal. Or whatever normal may be when it still involves having a sore throat that feels like I've been gargling razorblades. Rather emo.

The worst thing about it has been the head fuzziness, which has led to saying things quite spontaneously and without prior editing. This has included describing Bono as a "serially annoying pompous git" to U2 fans and telling a guy who struck up a conversation with me in the supermarket on Friday that he was "gorgeous." Which he was, so that's okay.

But self-editing is a good thing on the whole.

And that's where I end this for today.