^ Starburst.

^ Wooden.

I nearly fell down an embankment at lunch.

However, I ended up sliding down it magically and grabbing a branch at the last minute, and hopped back onto the path. I thought, "The time that no-one's around to see, magic happens! But if someone had been around, I probably would have face-planted."

It's so nice to have a sunny day for wandering around, taking photos. I've still got to enter the Digital Photographer of the Year competition thing and haven't been all that inspired yet. The categories don't really cater to what I consider my strong points (macro and nature) and the Hidden Britain thing could be a little difficult (well, were it not for the fact that I've got photos from last year over there).

Also, I've never been anywhere that would suit the penchant for third world misery aesthetic photos. Plus I'm not fond of taking photos of people for some reason. Although the few hundred from the other Saturday night would kind of contradict that *lol*

But you've gotta be in it to win it...

The spare room.

Oh, the spare room.

It was an utter and complete mess and so I hauled most of the things in it out today (other than the big furniture). That included all of the art stuff. The photo above is of about a third of it out in the lounge/dining room. Other things were easy enough to throw out or put into bags for the Salvos/St Vinnies. But when I tried to cull some of the art things, it was impossible.

So the spare room is slightly less messy now.

In other thoughts, I need to go through my multitude of spare handbags, some of which are in the spare room. I looked in some of them and found an assortment of coin and various painkiller things. It was like a bank meets a pharmacy in a very confined space with lipgloss.

Watching Sunday Arts at the moment with the Flinders Ranges story and Hans Heysen's work is currently being featured. I remember going to his studio years ago with my family and enjoying it a lot. The way he captured light was so good. My 16th birthday present was a Heysen print, framed beautifully. The Flinders Ranges are also things I remember from our Flinders National Park/Simpson Desert/Birdsville Track travels when I was about 12.

I remember the vivid, hot colours of the desert, the way in which the sand changed colour over the miles, silence, gibber rocks, gidgee trees and the way they smelled when they got wet, empty waterways lined with sand, the somewhat sulphurous-tasting water at Blanche Cup, late-evening baths at Coward Springs in the bore water, looking up at the stars.

Just appreciating the landscape in Australia is something I wish I'd taken more time to do when younger when I explored things more. I wish I could go back through the Simpson Desert again and approach it from an art perspective.

^ Pulled these leaves out of a vase yesterday and they'd grown roots. Hmm. Must find somewhere to plant these.

I stole this quiz concepty thing from someone's blog I was reading recently, mainly because I've not been feeling inspired for anything much lately and thought it'd be good to at least have some wordage... So here goes with the answers.

Ten things you wish you could say to 10 different people right now. Don't list any names.
1. I love you so much - you make me feel like my heart is breaking with happiness, mingled with the knowledge it'll never be anything more than what it is.
2. How about we do the formal introduction thing, then? ;)
3. Do you really think you're doing the right thing?
4. You're the most awesome family ever and I love you fit to burst!
5. It suits you so much to be the way you are now and it makes me so happy to see you comfortable in who you are.
6. Please wear pants more often.
7. I'm sorry.
8. Do you know how disgustingly cute you are?
9. Have you thought about reserving a plot for it yet?
10. Stop being such a dramaprince. I actually don't care at all.

Nine things about yourself.
1. Tacky TV amuses me a lot. Particularly Midsommer Murders, which was a show I strangely found I had a shared love of with the relatives in England. Bonding over John Nettles's hotness was amusing.
2. There's a lot of stuff I'd love to blog because it's hilarious but just can't.
3. I'm a vegetarian, but I love leather. Poor little dead animals.
4. Photography is one of my favourite things, moreso than writing these days.
5. When I was little, I was chased by a cow and ran about half a kilometre being chased by it and eventually hurdled a fence to escape. It was probably the sportiest thing I've ever done.
6. Comedy things tend to stick in my mind, Lord knows why.
7. Mornings don't suit me.
8. Found my skull and crossbones cardigan today!
9. I really hate reality TV.

Eight ways to win your heart.
1. Be amusing.
2. Be intelligent.
3. Be a lil' bit cheeky.
4. Let me know you fancy me.
5. But don't apply pressure about it.
6. Stimulate my brain - challenge, enlighten, enliven, etc.
7. Don't suddenly reveal a tattoo of John Howard.
8. Possibly have a hot British accent...

Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
1. Music. Music. Music.
2. Him. Oh, and him...
3. "Where's my camera? Gotta photograph that."
4. Things that amuse me.
5. Random things.
6. What to write.
7. Art.

Six things you wish you never did.
1. Said some unpleasant things to people undeserving of them. I'm sorry.
2. Taken up procrastinating.
3. ...
4. ...
5. ...
6. ...

Five turn-offs.
1. Rednecks.
2. Racism/sexism/discrimination in general. It's amazing how unsexy you can find someone when they send a mass forwarded email about how people who come to Australia should assimilate or sod off...
3. Mullets.
4. Narrow-minded people.
5. Alcoholics.

Four turn-ons.
1. Older men.
2. Intelligence.
3. A bit of a wild streak.
4. A great voice.

Three good and bad moments in your life you'll never forget.
Good
1. Going to Germany and England. The best three weeks ever.
2. High School. All of the fun my friends and I had there, how much laughter there was, some absolutley amazing teachers, etc.
3. Buying my first house.

Bad
1. Deaths - grandparents, pets, other loved ones.
2. Oh, lots of stuff.
3. Buying my first house.

Two things you want to do before you die.
1. Go back to Germany and England.
2. Live to a ripe old age.

One confession.
...

^ Abandoned lot.

Surprising how hard it is to get motivated after a string of late nights and minimal sleep. Most of today was spent lounging around. At least most of the cleaning up from last night is done, apart from the washing up.

Kez and Penguin and their respective husbands came over to dinner last night and there were hours of silliness and laughter. Which was good after a stressful week. Plus it was great to see Penguin and her husband, who I've not seen for about three and a half years or something.

And now for the washing up.

Eek.

^ A leaf I found while out and about at lunchtime.

^ Dark and light.

I watched Persuasion tonight and enjoyed it rather a lot. I'm not a chick-lit person but it's a different story when it comes to Jane Austen. And the Brontes, too. Actually, there are many great female writers out there who don't write chick-lit, but great literary fiction. I don't think writers like Austen, the Brontes, Sylvia Plath and so on are writers who are gender-specific in terms of an audience. They have a broader appeal and can be enjoyed equally by women and men. To say that a female writer is chick-lit purely because she is female is insulting to her work.

In Austen's time, there were a lot of gothic romances and those perhaps are more like the chick-lit style thing. Minus the shopping and stilleto heels, though, I would say. And it has faded with time, mostly, which I hope the majority of current chick-lit will have done in a century or so.

Austen's books explore some of the economics of 19th century romance - the need to marry well because women couldn't really ever have the same earning power as men, etc (not that we can mostly now, either). Men who were suitable for marriage were rarely found and often their financial situation was more important than what kind of a person they were (thinking of Mr Elliot in Persuasion - rich and a jerk). Her novels were romance, but they were also social criticism and satire.

Publishers have a fair bit to answer for in the way they package novels. I don't like seeing Pride and Prejudice cover art'ed in the same sort of way that the vast majority of chick-lit, mainly because it stereotypes it as being something not worth giving a possum's left testicle about.

I have problems with female literature writers being lumped in with "chick-lit" like Bridget Jones ("It's the new Pride and Prejudice!"). But then I have a problem with bad books.

And yet...

Terrible writing abounds. And male authors of terrible novels seem to be taken more seriously than female writers, even when they're writing about the same sort of material. Well, perhaps not taken seriously, but at least tolerated more. There's an awful load of trash out there written by men and it rarely attracts the same level of criticism that chick-lit does, even though it's often more than deserving.

I dislike chick-lit, I dislike bad books in general. And I realised I unleashed the hate about chick-lit above, which seems somewhat hypocritical to criticise so grumpily. A good novel should be one that crosses the gender divide, regardless of which side it's been written from.

But I have digressed, and digressed with Olympic ability.

I just meant to say Persuasion was really very well done, considering it had been condensed to movie-length.

In other thoughts, being up rather late and watching Order in the House is not a good idea. It makes me want to shout at the TV, especially when people are arguing that allowing gay people to marry will mean that children could end up with loads and loads and loads of step-parents because people might marry and divorce again and again. Oh. My. God. Like that sort of thing doesn't happen now anyway with straight people? And there's a vast difference between marriage and people just living together.

Also, I'm very over how the opposition seems to only be majoring in minors of late.

^ Spent globe.

Playing with food

^ Random photos from cooking - a capsicum inside a capsicum, a cauliflower and pineapples.

Toothsome

^ We also went to Spotlight on Friday and in the novelty section I found these teeth. They're meant to glow in the dark but so don't. And being made in China and supposed to glow in the dark, one probably shouldn't put them in one's mouth.

In other thoughts, it's sometimes a scary and at other times a magnificent thing to go back through old tapes you recorded off the radio when you were young and listen back to things you used to love. Some of the most shaming things include Ultra and Steps. If you could only find the strength inside to say you show me heaven, baby. We'll put the wrong to right, we'll start a new day...

*curls up into foetal position and rocks back and forth*

^ In Bunnings, BB and I found the Ron Jeremy of fawcets. After laughter, we took a photo. Along with photos of the most awesome flatpack kitchens. Who'd have thought Bunnings would be channeling the IKEA/European-style kitchen thing? Very nice.

Also, Friday in general as an expedition/adventure was awesomeness. And occasionally disturbing (such as the electric things). But it's been so much fun seeing BB again!

"Remember the stiff upper lip!" "I'm not hanging around here waiting for mine to stiffen!"

I rather enjoyed this article by Andrew O'Hagan this morning.

Particularly for this:

Science and I don't often agree - which is good news for science and bad news for me - but I've been arguing for the return of the stiff upper lip for some time. I hate all those TV programmes where people line up on stage to ask their daddy why he didn't love them enough.
For a start, one can usually understand quite quickly why the daddy didn't, and second (perhaps more scientifically) the people on those shows don't seem to benefit from the spectacle of unburdening.
In the old days, when people's daddies didn't love them enough, they felt a bit sad about it and tried to do better with their own children. Or they sought ways to bear it.

I'm not much of a fan of the touchy-feely how are you feeling let's discuss things at length as to why you... Wait, I'm starting to sound a bit Mr Gormsby there. For some things, I think discussing them and getting them off your chest can make it much easier to handle - especially when it's combined with not trying to clutch the matter back to your bosom again like a boa constrictor once you've supposedly gotten it off.

In Years 9 and 10, some of my friends and I were involved with an extra-curricular program that was run in school time. A reward for being smart, I guess. But it involved not being involved in classes now and then, so we were more than happy to participate. One thing they ran was a week's worth of workshops. Part of one of the workshops involved those running it wanting us to share our feelings, which was about as comfortable as sitting on a pointed stick. On the pointy end. Most of us made stuff up.

For those who wish to express their feelings and emotions about everything, more power to them. Hopefully it's something that's perfectly healthy for them and it's good that they feel better for having conversed with others about what's bothering them. But it's nice to see that you'll be just as fine even if you don't want to emote about everything.

Anyway. I just want to emote that I want the dress Lily Allen wore to the Glamour Woman of the Year Awards thing in the UK. And maybe to do the pink hair thing. But mostly I want the dress.


It's so adorably morbid.

Random photo of the day

^ Glass bricks.

^ Burning newspaper.

^ Devilkitteh is unimpressed about having to "hide" on top of the dressing table to escape the vacuum cleaner. Which was in another room entirely. He's oh-so-brave...

Grotesque

While cooking this afternoon, I realised how many things can look rather grotesque, whether it's just due to there being left-over juice or you've found a potato that was hiding behind things in the cupboard (the potato has since been planted outside, where it can feel free to grow its little hairy feelers).

The following pix are from today (they are, in order: eggs and cream for a quiche, cherry juice, a cherry, the aforementioned potato and a bit of a Snickers bar):







Just hope the people coming over for dinner tonight don't look at my blog before they arrive or they may be put off entirely...

Another day working for Dr Evil

There was an OH&S meeting.

Following it, we were given laser pointers.

Somewhat ironic.

Mini-Me, stop humping the laser!

^ Lamella.

Yesterday...

I meant to write about it last night and forgot, but yesterday afforded me with many moments of amusement. Some of the "highlights" included:

> Walking to work. Which doesn't sound like that much fun, except that while walking to work, I espied an elderly lady who must have been at least 85 wandering along clutching a Supre bag. Oh, and walking past a house that was absolutely blasting polka music. Loud polka music is amusing at any time of the day, even more so early in the morning.

> In the chocolate aisle at the supermarket, there were some boganesque-looking guys (with beanies!) standing in front of the chocolates singing along to that song Cruisin' that Gwyneth Paltrow sang in some movie. They sang quite nicely, actually.

> The waxing conversation.

^ Random light from last Thursday.

Once a knight, always a knight. Twice a knight and you're doing alright!

I bought another DVD of The Goodies on the weekend.

I'm pretty sure that the neighbours have been wondering what the heck is making me laugh so loud... But it's so good! And I really, really, really hope that all 74 episodes make it out on DVD at some point.

*insert begging, pleading, offers of chocolate to whoever it may be who makes these sort of decisions about putting The Goodies on DVD*

While I wait for that, here's some random quotes:

Major Cheeseburger (upon hearing that the Goodies ate the "tomato soup"): "Well I'll be hornswaggled!"
Graeme (firmly): "Your personal life is no concern of ours!"

Tim (in a mad panic upon finding out that the end of the world is nigh): "Where are my shiny shoes?! I want to die with my shiny shoes on! I'm a teapot! I'm a teapot ...!"

Graeme (to Tim, who is being menaced): "It's the giant bagpipes spider. It's deadly! Keep absolutely still. One bite from that and you dance the Highland Fling until you drop dead!"

Graeme: "To Tim, I leave my set of clubs."
Tim: "Oh great! Now I can get my own seal-skin hat!!"

Graeme (suspiciously): "Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Are you sure you're virgins?"
Tim & Bill (dressed as virgins in white robes and wigs): "Yes, sir."
Graeme: (looking at Bill) "But she's got a beard!"
Tim: "That's why she's a virgin!"
Graeme: "Fair enough!"

Cydonia oblonga

When I was young, we picked some quinces from a tree that overhung the fence of an old orchard on the way home from a picnic at the Light River. That, until today, was the first and only time I'd tasted quinces and although I was rather young, I remembered loving the flavour and scent of the hard, oddly-shaped yellow fruit. The perfume of them and the lusciously tart flavour somehow remained strong memories.

On Friday, I found quinces at the green grocers for $2.99 a kilogram. I grabbed a bag and restrained myself to buying only five quinces, as I'm sure there are others out there who enjoy the fruit more than I do. The quinces were covered in that soft felt-like coating they grow, and had only a slight hint of the perfume potential.

This morning, I set about peeling and cutting up the quinces for stewing. I remember the way Mum had gone about it with the ones I'd had when young. I watched her slicing through the solid fruit at the large silky oak table in the kitchen back home and recalled that the quinces took a long time to cook, just simmering along slowly. Perhaps it was because they were so unique that they've stuck out in my memory.

And the ones I bought were just as tough as I'd remembered the ones we'd picked to be to cut up. The flesh reminded me of crabapples somehow - probably the dry texture. Peeling, coring and slicing them all up took the best part of a Daft Punk CD. With occasional pauses to dance around the kitchen to the music.

Tumbling the sliced quince into a saucepan and covering them with water and sugar and finally putting them on to cook was such a rewarding sensation. After about half an hour, they were simmering gently and had begun to release that glorious quince scent - I wish I could describe it, but it seems sour, sharp, sweet and musky.

After a couple hours of gently stewing, they were ready. I remember the ones my Mum made being a darkish ruby red colour. Mine aren't. They're just a goldeny yellow. Maybe it's because I peeled them? I'm not sure.

But they're so delicious it could make a stone saint weep.

Tonight, tonight, won't be just any night...

Kez and I were having a somewhat inappropriate conversation in Bras 'n Things/BNT/whatever it's called in front of the naughty nurse uniforms, etc and then turned around and there's a couple from work RIGHT THERE BEHIND US.

Which is, you know, awkward.

And yet also cause for snickering from us and all of four of us apparently making a concerted effort to avoid any eye contact at all. Strange and yet amusing. Also, BNT has sets in the exact same colour and print (pale pink with black polka-dots) as my favourite jarmies.

Also, on the way back home, we saw a burning building. Or a smokey one at least. The photo attempt is below and is terrible, in part because of it being dark but also because of the fact that we were driving past. And I was quite possibly distracted by hot firemen. There were about half a dozen fire trucks there or so, which there don't seem to be in the photo...


Then when I got home from all the excitment of such a wild and crazy night out (woo!), the devil kitty was waiting around and demanding to be let inside. He's such a strange one. But I don't blame him with how utterly FREEEEEEEZING it is out there. Gah.

From Overheard in New York:

Teacher, after seeing one of her seven-year-old students smell an empty subway seat: Sienna, there are 10,000 people a day sitting in that very seat. What do you think it would smell like? Chicken?

- Is it the WA Liberal leader Troy Buswell's kid..?

^ Vaguely obsessed with these fairy-tale toadstools.

^ Blueberry and apple pie.

A sensible lunch, if only for the fact that the filling was practically flourescent violet. Which unfortunately didn't show up all that well in the photo, but you get the idea.

On a wholly different train of thought, this was on Overheard Everywhere the other day. Does that mean that, by this "logic" and using the six degrees of separation thing, you could have shagged Johnny Depp? My officemate was disturbed by that observation.

Poor boy.

"I think it's time for a print-out!"

The IT Crowd makes me smile.

Oh, and laugh outrageously.

Shame the series is finished. Dammit.

^ Anthurium. They do seem rather phallic somehow.

Currently watching the Artists at Work profile of Lindy Lee on ABC, which is enormously interesting in regards to the working as an artist between cultural boundaries, within spirituality, etc. Also, the idea of a nine-day silent zen meditation retreat makes me curious.

Yet I don't think I could do that, mainly because I could talk the leg off a dead cast iron donkey. But would the silence force deeper artistic expression from within? Would it help to concentrate what I want to say or do or whatever? Would something like that help at all with the enormously annoying writer's block and the absolute lack of any desire to write anything?

However, who we are and how we make sense of ourselves is interesting, along with moments in time, when it comes to art expression. I like the seeming disconnection of her work and the way in which it comes together at the same time.

I wish there was more time for art in life.