i don't make new years resolutions, but this year i think i might. i'm constantly making resolutions, why not make them a little more formal? so i've come up with five goals to see me through 2009.
i know enough about myself not to be too ambitious with this sort of thing. in fact, this list is still probably too ambitious.
I RESOLVE: to play at least one of my songs to at least five different people. (i'm hoping that five is sort of the critical mass and if i do that without considerable agony then i can eventually do more.)
I RESOLVE: to have completed at least twelve new songs by the end of the year.
I RESOLVE: to be able to run for one hour by the end of the year. (i'm doing about 35 minutes at the moment. i'm not sure how much running i'll be able to do in south america - i'm not planning to take sneakers, for one - but if worst comes to worst i'll just have to power on home in august.)
I RESOLVE: to write at least one sentence in my travel journal for every day that i'm in south america.
I RESOLVE MOST OF ALL: to abide by the statement, "what are we without our integrity?"
there are other things i want to do in the new year: i want to be brave when i travel, and to make new friends. i want to work at being less shy, and i want to get better at talking to people i don't know. i want to get a job i don't hate. i want to exercise frequently, and begin cross-training a little more, and improve my dietary habits. but these things are all so hard to measure. so the things listed above are the most important ones to me.
have you made any resolutions?
love love love
lion
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
19. some thoughts about performance
i like to play guitar and sing songs so much, it's just about the greatest joy in my life, but i can't play in front of people. of course i can strum some chords and sing "total eclipse of the heart" and "kokomo" but when it comes to injecting anything genuine into a performance i freeze up. singing anything i've written in front of another human being seems a monumental feat.
a few weeks ago i forced myself to sing some songs i'd written in front of my friend ro. i had to send her a text message and say "RO, the next time we jam please please PLEASE make me play a couple of songs for you" and being the good friend she is she made me do it, i would have backed out otherwise probably. it was really hard but i played two songs i'd written recently, called "blue chair" and "you know who to call" and then later i played another i wrote a long time ago called "bear skin coat" and i felt a huge weight off my chest once i'd done it. i should do things like that more often, but i don't know how.
it's funny, when i first played the flute at recitals and competitions and auditions and such i was incredibly nervous, but then i did it so much and it was such a rush that i began to love it and i shook out all the stagefright and by the time i was sixteen i'd played to audiences of hundreds and hundreds of people and it didn't shake me at all, i loved it, i got a wonderful egotistical rush from the notion of controlling a crowd, who were generally easily impressed by simple chromatic runs and thrilled by double-tonguing. one time i was busking and was playing a nocturne by chopin, a really gorgeously romantic piece of music, and a handsome young couple walked past and then stopped turned to look at me, and smiled at each other and then at me, and then they turned to each other and kissed and i was certain i could see real joy in their eyes and that one moment validated every tiresome note i'd ever practised and every moment i'd sat quivering backstage, i still think about it when i play music now.
but now that i've had a couple of years break from performing in front of people, the stage fright is bigger and worse than it ever was. it's a shame. and it would be okay if it were still the flute, but now i'm dealing with two instruments i'm not overly familiar with or even good at, assuming you count the voice as an instrument, which it sort of is but is also something infinitely scarier and more revealing. at least with the flute i found out after a while that i was good, which was the point at which it became easier.
(interestingly i did assume i was terrible at the flute for the first few years. it wasn't false modesty, i was just certain that i was hopeless. it wasn't until i won my first competition that it ever occured to me i might have any talent at all. not that i was prodigious at the flute or anything of the sort, but i was certainly better than i initially assumed.)
it makes me kind of miserable, when i stop and think about it. performance is the greatest high i can think of, but i'm absolutely fucking terrified of it. i want a life that involves music somehow - playing it, teaching it, coordinating it, something - but sometimes this seems like an impossible obstacle, or something that will haunt me forever.
i guess it's something to work on in the new year?
speaking of which, a very happy new year to you all.
love love love
lion
a few weeks ago i forced myself to sing some songs i'd written in front of my friend ro. i had to send her a text message and say "RO, the next time we jam please please PLEASE make me play a couple of songs for you" and being the good friend she is she made me do it, i would have backed out otherwise probably. it was really hard but i played two songs i'd written recently, called "blue chair" and "you know who to call" and then later i played another i wrote a long time ago called "bear skin coat" and i felt a huge weight off my chest once i'd done it. i should do things like that more often, but i don't know how.
it's funny, when i first played the flute at recitals and competitions and auditions and such i was incredibly nervous, but then i did it so much and it was such a rush that i began to love it and i shook out all the stagefright and by the time i was sixteen i'd played to audiences of hundreds and hundreds of people and it didn't shake me at all, i loved it, i got a wonderful egotistical rush from the notion of controlling a crowd, who were generally easily impressed by simple chromatic runs and thrilled by double-tonguing. one time i was busking and was playing a nocturne by chopin, a really gorgeously romantic piece of music, and a handsome young couple walked past and then stopped turned to look at me, and smiled at each other and then at me, and then they turned to each other and kissed and i was certain i could see real joy in their eyes and that one moment validated every tiresome note i'd ever practised and every moment i'd sat quivering backstage, i still think about it when i play music now.
but now that i've had a couple of years break from performing in front of people, the stage fright is bigger and worse than it ever was. it's a shame. and it would be okay if it were still the flute, but now i'm dealing with two instruments i'm not overly familiar with or even good at, assuming you count the voice as an instrument, which it sort of is but is also something infinitely scarier and more revealing. at least with the flute i found out after a while that i was good, which was the point at which it became easier.
(interestingly i did assume i was terrible at the flute for the first few years. it wasn't false modesty, i was just certain that i was hopeless. it wasn't until i won my first competition that it ever occured to me i might have any talent at all. not that i was prodigious at the flute or anything of the sort, but i was certainly better than i initially assumed.)
it makes me kind of miserable, when i stop and think about it. performance is the greatest high i can think of, but i'm absolutely fucking terrified of it. i want a life that involves music somehow - playing it, teaching it, coordinating it, something - but sometimes this seems like an impossible obstacle, or something that will haunt me forever.
i guess it's something to work on in the new year?
speaking of which, a very happy new year to you all.
love love love
lion
Monday, December 29, 2008
down south dillettantism
christmas day was really quiet around the traps, so i went for a bike ride in the evening. i took my mum's bike on a good trip from bunbury to the far end of australind, which is a pretty fair old trot for someone who usually only rides her bike down the road, it was probably 35km or so. my hindquarters were quite tender the next day.
the reason i mention this is because the roads were so impossibly quiet, what with it being christmas day, that i barely saw a soul, and suddenly i had this incredible idea that maybe i could sing whilst riding my bike. oh gosh, it was great. i felt like a real old-timer, just trundling on past paddocks and creeks and empty factories and railroad crossings and all the time singing songs, first quietly and under my breath and then loudly when i realised that there really was no-one around. i really recommend it.
i also re-read the dharma bums which i think is marvellously inspiring (i intend to begin standing on my head every day), and i read a farewell to arms by hemingway, it was my first hemingway and i found it terribly sad. i had expected it to be terse and unromantic and, i admit, dull, but it was nothing of the sort.
and i also read white teeth by zadie smith which was very warm and enjoyable but kind of lost me in the last hundred pages or so. and i started reading oscar and lucinda although i only got about 30 pages in.
anyway, with all that reading i didn't really do as much creative business as i perhaps should have.
still, when i was singing and riding my bike i couldn't help but notice how creepy some parts of bunbury are. so i came up with a kind of country death song, not all of it but some bits of it and later on i did manage to work out guitar parts for some of it.
it's called "when you go back to your hometown there's a hundred ways to die," perky business. maybe i'll write some more of it now.
love love love
lion
the reason i mention this is because the roads were so impossibly quiet, what with it being christmas day, that i barely saw a soul, and suddenly i had this incredible idea that maybe i could sing whilst riding my bike. oh gosh, it was great. i felt like a real old-timer, just trundling on past paddocks and creeks and empty factories and railroad crossings and all the time singing songs, first quietly and under my breath and then loudly when i realised that there really was no-one around. i really recommend it.
i also re-read the dharma bums which i think is marvellously inspiring (i intend to begin standing on my head every day), and i read a farewell to arms by hemingway, it was my first hemingway and i found it terribly sad. i had expected it to be terse and unromantic and, i admit, dull, but it was nothing of the sort.
and i also read white teeth by zadie smith which was very warm and enjoyable but kind of lost me in the last hundred pages or so. and i started reading oscar and lucinda although i only got about 30 pages in.
anyway, with all that reading i didn't really do as much creative business as i perhaps should have.
still, when i was singing and riding my bike i couldn't help but notice how creepy some parts of bunbury are. so i came up with a kind of country death song, not all of it but some bits of it and later on i did manage to work out guitar parts for some of it.
it's called "when you go back to your hometown there's a hundred ways to die," perky business. maybe i'll write some more of it now.
love love love
lion
christmas creativity!
from the secret/shitty santa trade. i stole the photos from my friend jenny and you can see more on her flickr if you are so inclined.
my wonderful gift for jenny. she is so lucky! for those inclined to criticise my artwork, just remember: it was a shitty santa gift (ps. also i can't draw)
my contribution to the potluck: chunky chickpea and herb dumpling soup. it was a little lukewarm by the time it was served, so the dumplings weren't as steaming hot as i would have liked, but i enjoyed my own cooking as much as was appropriate regardless.
the theme was "a very merry suburban xmas" so here i am wearing my suburban best and looking completely unattractive for your viewing pleasure.
and finally here is moriarty unwrapping the greatest gift of all (some sticks tied up in bits of alfoil).
i hope you all had an exciting christmas!
my wonderful gift for jenny. she is so lucky! for those inclined to criticise my artwork, just remember: it was a shitty santa gift (ps. also i can't draw)
my contribution to the potluck: chunky chickpea and herb dumpling soup. it was a little lukewarm by the time it was served, so the dumplings weren't as steaming hot as i would have liked, but i enjoyed my own cooking as much as was appropriate regardless.
the theme was "a very merry suburban xmas" so here i am wearing my suburban best and looking completely unattractive for your viewing pleasure.
and finally here is moriarty unwrapping the greatest gift of all (some sticks tied up in bits of alfoil).
i hope you all had an exciting christmas!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
18. decidedly uglier layout
today i changed my blog around a bit.
"errrrr, but," you say, "the last layout was sort of cute and this is just completely ugly seriously what is with the colours"
you are correct, but what can i say, this layout just sings my name. i love courier new, it is definitely the font of my interior monologue. frankly i am relieved to get that cutesy cross-stitching out of the way! damn.
love love love
lion
ps. actually i am still not happy with the colours, they may be changed yet
"errrrr, but," you say, "the last layout was sort of cute and this is just completely ugly seriously what is with the colours"
you are correct, but what can i say, this layout just sings my name. i love courier new, it is definitely the font of my interior monologue. frankly i am relieved to get that cutesy cross-stitching out of the way! damn.
love love love
lion
ps. actually i am still not happy with the colours, they may be changed yet
Monday, December 22, 2008
17. potluck suburban santa
hello gang! (i don't know why i just said that)
this weekend's task was to finish off my gift for the inaugural "shitty santa" gift exchange. the idea of the shitty santa exchange was, as you may have ascertained, to give a gift that was both hilarious and shit. my shitty santa gift was a short "erotic" story about my friend jenny and her poor boyfriend sam, who probably never expected to be the subject of such a piece.
i drew a wonderful cover for the book and handwrote the text and sewed together the spine. it looked terrible, but that was the spirit of shitty santa! we also had a seriously tasty potluck dinner. who ever knew my friends were so great at cooking stuff? so i made a pot of chunky chickpea soup with herb dumplings, it is one of my favourite things to cook. the dumplings are made with self-raising flour so they cook right in the soup.
the theme of the evening was "a very suburban christmas" so i wore a shirt that my friend tom bought for me in sydney. it is oversized and white with fluoro illustrations and says "SYDNEY" on it, a real investment piece.
i meant to take photos but i forgot, however LUCKY FOR YOU there might have been a picture or two taken on the night, which may or may not be posted at a later date.
i received a lonely planet travel journal (from my secret santa) and a squeaky toy shaped like a piece of steak (from my shitty santa). thanks so much you guys!
i'm going down south over christmas for a couple of days. i'm not taking my guitar because it's missing a couple of machine heads, so i can't really write any songs, but i'm hoping that i can at least get down some lyrics or draw some pictures or something.
this weekend's task was to finish off my gift for the inaugural "shitty santa" gift exchange. the idea of the shitty santa exchange was, as you may have ascertained, to give a gift that was both hilarious and shit. my shitty santa gift was a short "erotic" story about my friend jenny and her poor boyfriend sam, who probably never expected to be the subject of such a piece.
i drew a wonderful cover for the book and handwrote the text and sewed together the spine. it looked terrible, but that was the spirit of shitty santa! we also had a seriously tasty potluck dinner. who ever knew my friends were so great at cooking stuff? so i made a pot of chunky chickpea soup with herb dumplings, it is one of my favourite things to cook. the dumplings are made with self-raising flour so they cook right in the soup.
the theme of the evening was "a very suburban christmas" so i wore a shirt that my friend tom bought for me in sydney. it is oversized and white with fluoro illustrations and says "SYDNEY" on it, a real investment piece.
i meant to take photos but i forgot, however LUCKY FOR YOU there might have been a picture or two taken on the night, which may or may not be posted at a later date.
i received a lonely planet travel journal (from my secret santa) and a squeaky toy shaped like a piece of steak (from my shitty santa). thanks so much you guys!
i'm going down south over christmas for a couple of days. i'm not taking my guitar because it's missing a couple of machine heads, so i can't really write any songs, but i'm hoping that i can at least get down some lyrics or draw some pictures or something.
Friday, December 19, 2008
16. screenplay (13, 488 words)
i wouldn't say the screenplay has exactly been rocketing along this week!
TED, a man of about 30 in Levis and a flannelette shirt, walks toward the other side of the barbecue and places down a cardboard box of items. He nods curtly and grins at Nina through his three day growth.
have a nice weekend please!
TED, a man of about 30 in Levis and a flannelette shirt, walks toward the other side of the barbecue and places down a cardboard box of items. He nods curtly and grins at Nina through his three day growth.
have a nice weekend please!
0. i got nuthin'
i don't have anything sexy to post today guys!
the last couple of days i have been:
(a) doodling tattoo-style art everywhere
i printed off a couple of fonts and some pictures i really liked and have been playing around, first copying the pictures and then tweaking them and even fiddling around with some ideas from scratch. it's fun!
(b) keeping a journal
i want to keep a journal when i'm in south america, so i've started keeping one here. i'm trying to write something every day to get into a good habit. i mainly write but i also doodle a little and play around with fonts.
but nothing worth posting.
instead enjoy the sassy lines of this jungle boots that i have been fantasising about in my online quest to decide what kind of hiking shoes to get.
i'm pretty sure that they're not appropriate for hiking in patagonia (i'm probably gonna go for hi-top trek shoes), but god damn they look fun! and cheap, and useful. oh well.
hopefully i'll have some screenplay done later today?
the last couple of days i have been:
(a) doodling tattoo-style art everywhere
i printed off a couple of fonts and some pictures i really liked and have been playing around, first copying the pictures and then tweaking them and even fiddling around with some ideas from scratch. it's fun!
(b) keeping a journal
i want to keep a journal when i'm in south america, so i've started keeping one here. i'm trying to write something every day to get into a good habit. i mainly write but i also doodle a little and play around with fonts.
but nothing worth posting.
instead enjoy the sassy lines of this jungle boots that i have been fantasising about in my online quest to decide what kind of hiking shoes to get.
i'm pretty sure that they're not appropriate for hiking in patagonia (i'm probably gonna go for hi-top trek shoes), but god damn they look fun! and cheap, and useful. oh well.
hopefully i'll have some screenplay done later today?
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
tattoos for inspiration
lately i have a fascination with tattoo art. i don't particularly like tattoos, not for myself at least, but i really love that style of art. especially the rockabilly and 90s-goth kind of business.
i'd like to learn to draw that way. just for my own enjoyment.
i hate the ed hardy label, because it is overpriced and kitschy and bullshit (DID YOU KNOW? christian audigier of ed hardy is also responsible for the fucking von dutch trucker), but i concede that i am very fond of mr. don ed hardy's designs. at the very least i would like to be able to mimic his font.
i feel similarly about wheels and doll baby. i love their aesthetic, the sex and grunge and sweetness, but fuck me if i'm ever gonna buy rock and roll in a king street shopping bag. DIY or die!*
*man i really have to get better at DIY-ing.
i'd like to learn to draw that way. just for my own enjoyment.
i hate the ed hardy label, because it is overpriced and kitschy and bullshit (DID YOU KNOW? christian audigier of ed hardy is also responsible for the fucking von dutch trucker), but i concede that i am very fond of mr. don ed hardy's designs. at the very least i would like to be able to mimic his font.
i feel similarly about wheels and doll baby. i love their aesthetic, the sex and grunge and sweetness, but fuck me if i'm ever gonna buy rock and roll in a king street shopping bag. DIY or die!*
*man i really have to get better at DIY-ing.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
15. mercy waltz
this is the other song i wrote last night. it is evident, at least to myself, that i am trying to be leonard cohen. oh well. i had a few of the lines in my head already (PERHAPS YOU CAN GUESS WHICH) but it's mostly from scratch.
man my songs lately have been pretty sad! sometimes it's easier to write sad songs when you are in a good mood. i've been in a pretty good mood.
15. mercy waltz
a mirror, a glass house, a hair in a locket
the blame in your voice and the shame near your pocket
the albums of pictures that you never showed me
oh great, oh merciful; you don't want to know me
the flowers are growing
and my heart has slowed
to a waltz
the death lilies tower, their bile green and white
marks three hundred and sixty six days to the night
that we stared at each other and saw that we knew:
oh great, oh merciful; this theatre was through
so we turned the last page
and i skidded in socks
on the stage
an angel, an earwig, an erogenous region
a lantern, a lover, a weeping white lesion
rode in on a lamb and rode out as a lion
my fists tight as eight-balls, my nostrils defiant
you knotted yourself and i tried to undo you
but i was too knotted to ever unglue you
i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i never saw through you
oh great, oh merciful: i'm sorry i knew you
we waltzed in your kitchen: my eyes shut, i still sensed
your fierce set of steakknives was glinting with glee
i'm riding a bike on a thin sheet of plastic
that is tied to the corners of a roiling black sea.
love love love
lion
man my songs lately have been pretty sad! sometimes it's easier to write sad songs when you are in a good mood. i've been in a pretty good mood.
15. mercy waltz
a mirror, a glass house, a hair in a locket
the blame in your voice and the shame near your pocket
the albums of pictures that you never showed me
oh great, oh merciful; you don't want to know me
the flowers are growing
and my heart has slowed
to a waltz
the death lilies tower, their bile green and white
marks three hundred and sixty six days to the night
that we stared at each other and saw that we knew:
oh great, oh merciful; this theatre was through
so we turned the last page
and i skidded in socks
on the stage
an angel, an earwig, an erogenous region
a lantern, a lover, a weeping white lesion
rode in on a lamb and rode out as a lion
my fists tight as eight-balls, my nostrils defiant
you knotted yourself and i tried to undo you
but i was too knotted to ever unglue you
i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i never saw through you
oh great, oh merciful: i'm sorry i knew you
we waltzed in your kitchen: my eyes shut, i still sensed
your fierce set of steakknives was glinting with glee
i'm riding a bike on a thin sheet of plastic
that is tied to the corners of a roiling black sea.
love love love
lion
14. cowboy sleeping
last night was amazing! after making the blog i guess i was all riled up, and i finished one song i'd been stuck on for ages, and wrote another. here is the one i finished. hell of sentimental.
14. cowboy sleeping
your loose limbs could sing fifteen hundred hymns
or conspire to sink a dozen homebound fleets
but instead there's a cowboy sleeping in my head
in between your forehead and your feet
i've been dreaming of the trains we took, the spines of books,
your eyes the day you talked about the rain
kick off your shoes: even cowboys need to snooze,
and i want you in my arms and not my brain
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i can sense an odd connection
with a stranger on the street
everyone that i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different beat
i left it far too late. i see that now.
i'm filled with hate each time i check the mailbox on my street
i miss the chattering of your tongue
and the skittering of your hi-octane feet
i broke a bone, a heart or two, a telephone
a tuning peg, a mirror and an octave leap
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i can sense an odd connection
with a stranger on the street
everyone i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different beat
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i exchange loaded glances
with some prime potential mate
everyone i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different state
i don't expect you guys to read these, it's just evidence that i actually did something.
love love love
lion
14. cowboy sleeping
your loose limbs could sing fifteen hundred hymns
or conspire to sink a dozen homebound fleets
but instead there's a cowboy sleeping in my head
in between your forehead and your feet
i've been dreaming of the trains we took, the spines of books,
your eyes the day you talked about the rain
kick off your shoes: even cowboys need to snooze,
and i want you in my arms and not my brain
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i can sense an odd connection
with a stranger on the street
everyone that i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different beat
i left it far too late. i see that now.
i'm filled with hate each time i check the mailbox on my street
i miss the chattering of your tongue
and the skittering of your hi-octane feet
i broke a bone, a heart or two, a telephone
a tuning peg, a mirror and an octave leap
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i can sense an odd connection
with a stranger on the street
everyone i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different beat
now i never get my hopes up
whenever i exchange loaded glances
with some prime potential mate
everyone i ever fall in love with
inevitably moves to a different state
i don't expect you guys to read these, it's just evidence that i actually did something.
love love love
lion
Monday, December 15, 2008
13. we cannot pronounce buenos aires
i don't seem to be very good at finding time for creativity on the weekends. i hang out with mark a lot during the day and in the evenings i usually go out.
i read a lot this weekend, though. i finished what i talk about when i talk about running and i made headway on the history of love and how we are hungry and the master and margarita.
i've started reading the dice man too. it's funny and compelling, probably the most compelling book i've read in a while.
and i worked out an arrangement to a song called "band on every corner" by the whitlams. well, it's a bit ambitious to call it an arrangement. but i worked out the chords and transposed into a good key for me and fiddled with the lyrics a tiny bit so that they were appropriate for a young lady like myself. it's a cracking little tune. sounds like old australian folk song. great little melody
13. we cannot pronounce buenos aires
i started a travel blog today! for those who've missed the boat, my friend robocop and i are travelling in south america between february and august next year. so i made a joint blog for us to use, although who knows if ro will use it? it took me a long time to sort out a layout (n.b. the layout is completely ridiculous) and i also wrote two entries. i'm not sure whether this falls strictly under the "creative" umbrella but i'm going to put it there, it certainly felt creative enough.
you may have guessed that it is called we cannot pronounce buenos aires. apparently this is incorrect and robo can in fact pronounce it so i guess that was my first mistake.
love love love
lion
i read a lot this weekend, though. i finished what i talk about when i talk about running and i made headway on the history of love and how we are hungry and the master and margarita.
i've started reading the dice man too. it's funny and compelling, probably the most compelling book i've read in a while.
and i worked out an arrangement to a song called "band on every corner" by the whitlams. well, it's a bit ambitious to call it an arrangement. but i worked out the chords and transposed into a good key for me and fiddled with the lyrics a tiny bit so that they were appropriate for a young lady like myself. it's a cracking little tune. sounds like old australian folk song. great little melody
13. we cannot pronounce buenos aires
i started a travel blog today! for those who've missed the boat, my friend robocop and i are travelling in south america between february and august next year. so i made a joint blog for us to use, although who knows if ro will use it? it took me a long time to sort out a layout (n.b. the layout is completely ridiculous) and i also wrote two entries. i'm not sure whether this falls strictly under the "creative" umbrella but i'm going to put it there, it certainly felt creative enough.
you may have guessed that it is called we cannot pronounce buenos aires. apparently this is incorrect and robo can in fact pronounce it so i guess that was my first mistake.
love love love
lion
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
12. three things i find very beautiful
one of my favourite people who has ever existed, magical magda, started a blog! it is called hearts and pinwheels but you and i will have to wait a little longer until we find out more about it.
in honour of this, today i thought i would tell you about a couple of things i find extremely beautiful and inspiring, and that thrill me perhaps a little more than they thrill most people.
1. wind farms
this is a strange little fascination of mine and i'm not sure where i came from. when i was very small and went on road trips with my parents i remember staring and staring at wind farms when we passed them, but i'm not sure if i actually harboured any specific feelings for them other than interest.
now, though, when i pass a wind farm i get a strange feeling in my stomach. it's a queasy sort of love, i feel like those people who are afraid of heights because they can't trust themselves not to jump off the edge of whatever precipice they're on. they are so huge and stoic and simple and useful. i don't think people realise how huge they are.
one thing i would really like to do is see a wind turbine up close. i think there is one in albany that you can look at pretty closely. i'll probably go there one day.
2. iceland
when i was an antisocial highschool-aged critter i discovered a wonderful album called agaetis byrjun by a band called sigur ros, and i grew quite obsessed with it. i had never heard anything so expansive and wonderful in my life, it seemed somehow to be an echo of the walls of my rather melancholy and isolated teenaged soul. they were a band from iceland and that was exactly what their music sounded like to me. when i listened to the album it would put a picture in my head: a string quartet in the centre of sheets and sheets of ice, and an all-encompassing dome of a sky, everything white and silvery blue, except the tiny musicians, their heads bowed, floating notes with empty centres into the freezing air.
i stayed up late one night to watch a film called 101 reyjkavik on sbs. i thought perhaps i would live there one day, at least for a year or so. now i suspect that i never will: i like sunshine, i like driving to the beach with bare feet and janis joplin shades, i like flopping on a couch eating twinpoles with a fan blowing into my face. but some days i still wish i was in iceland, brewing big black pots tea early in the morning and walking along the beach of a reedy, swampish lake, recording songs in a makeshift home studio, or rugging up and going out drinking at night with surly cerebral types.
i think i still have a notebook at my family home which contains the following sentence:
when i think of iceland i think: ice
3. dance lessons
i love attending dance lessons, but i love watching them just as much. i don't mind what genre it is. i've been taking swing (lindy hop) classes lately, but i've taken the odd class in jazz and a few sporadic partnered dances over the years. i love the floorboards and mirrors and barres. i love the shoes and hairstyles and outfits. i like watching people stretch in the corner, i like watching the gifted ones show off and the shy people stare at them. i love warm-up routines. i love watching a whole roomful of talented people pick up a difficult move very rapidly, injecting it almost immediately with their own style; i love watching a roomful of uncoordinated people fall over themselves laughing.
i'm not sure why they thrill me so much. i took ballet classes when i was very young, and they were probably my first exposure to anything creative. perhaps this is why.
love love love
lion
in honour of this, today i thought i would tell you about a couple of things i find extremely beautiful and inspiring, and that thrill me perhaps a little more than they thrill most people.
1. wind farms
this is a strange little fascination of mine and i'm not sure where i came from. when i was very small and went on road trips with my parents i remember staring and staring at wind farms when we passed them, but i'm not sure if i actually harboured any specific feelings for them other than interest.
now, though, when i pass a wind farm i get a strange feeling in my stomach. it's a queasy sort of love, i feel like those people who are afraid of heights because they can't trust themselves not to jump off the edge of whatever precipice they're on. they are so huge and stoic and simple and useful. i don't think people realise how huge they are.
one thing i would really like to do is see a wind turbine up close. i think there is one in albany that you can look at pretty closely. i'll probably go there one day.
2. iceland
when i was an antisocial highschool-aged critter i discovered a wonderful album called agaetis byrjun by a band called sigur ros, and i grew quite obsessed with it. i had never heard anything so expansive and wonderful in my life, it seemed somehow to be an echo of the walls of my rather melancholy and isolated teenaged soul. they were a band from iceland and that was exactly what their music sounded like to me. when i listened to the album it would put a picture in my head: a string quartet in the centre of sheets and sheets of ice, and an all-encompassing dome of a sky, everything white and silvery blue, except the tiny musicians, their heads bowed, floating notes with empty centres into the freezing air.
i stayed up late one night to watch a film called 101 reyjkavik on sbs. i thought perhaps i would live there one day, at least for a year or so. now i suspect that i never will: i like sunshine, i like driving to the beach with bare feet and janis joplin shades, i like flopping on a couch eating twinpoles with a fan blowing into my face. but some days i still wish i was in iceland, brewing big black pots tea early in the morning and walking along the beach of a reedy, swampish lake, recording songs in a makeshift home studio, or rugging up and going out drinking at night with surly cerebral types.
i think i still have a notebook at my family home which contains the following sentence:
when i think of iceland i think: ice
3. dance lessons
i love attending dance lessons, but i love watching them just as much. i don't mind what genre it is. i've been taking swing (lindy hop) classes lately, but i've taken the odd class in jazz and a few sporadic partnered dances over the years. i love the floorboards and mirrors and barres. i love the shoes and hairstyles and outfits. i like watching people stretch in the corner, i like watching the gifted ones show off and the shy people stare at them. i love warm-up routines. i love watching a whole roomful of talented people pick up a difficult move very rapidly, injecting it almost immediately with their own style; i love watching a roomful of uncoordinated people fall over themselves laughing.
i'm not sure why they thrill me so much. i took ballet classes when i was very young, and they were probably my first exposure to anything creative. perhaps this is why.
love love love
lion
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
11. five two-word book reviews
a very small assignment for you to enjoy!
i always read lots of books at once. here are five books that i am reading at the moment and my impressions of them so far IN TWO WORDS OR LESS.
how we are hungry by dave eggers (a collection of short stories):
cocky, calculated
tropic of capricorn by henry miller:
oversexed, spitting
the history of love by nicole krauss:
warm, tactile
the master and margarita by mikhail bulgakov:
cerebral, dry
what i talk about when i talk about running by haruki murakami:
honest, exultant
these are not my final reviews! i've only read one story from how we are hungry thus far. i've read a little more of all the others though.
love love love
lion
i always read lots of books at once. here are five books that i am reading at the moment and my impressions of them so far IN TWO WORDS OR LESS.
how we are hungry by dave eggers (a collection of short stories):
cocky, calculated
tropic of capricorn by henry miller:
oversexed, spitting
the history of love by nicole krauss:
warm, tactile
the master and margarita by mikhail bulgakov:
cerebral, dry
what i talk about when i talk about running by haruki murakami:
honest, exultant
these are not my final reviews! i've only read one story from how we are hungry thus far. i've read a little more of all the others though.
love love love
lion
Monday, December 08, 2008
10. screenplay (13,191 words)
friday was a good day for creativity and surprises. not my own, unfortunately, but the creativity and surprises of other people.
i was running late in the morning and ran out the door only to find a copy of this book:
i ran back in and showed it to mark (who was trying to sleep at the time), pondering excitedly who it could be from. eventually i saw a note from my brother, it said, cool runnings sis.
and then when i went to tom's house i discovered he had decorated my car windscreens as well as his door with some lovely messages for me written in shaving cream. i wish i had photos.
but i did write 494 words of screenplay on friday afternoon.
Nina: (flicks a contemptuous look at Lionel) "Not you, you freaking wino. Bob, what the hell. Are you here with Jerry?"
Bob looks panicky, stretching his palms out in front of himself defensively.
as for the rest of the weekend? a complete creative write-off.
(it was fun though)
love love love
lion
i was running late in the morning and ran out the door only to find a copy of this book:
i ran back in and showed it to mark (who was trying to sleep at the time), pondering excitedly who it could be from. eventually i saw a note from my brother, it said, cool runnings sis.
and then when i went to tom's house i discovered he had decorated my car windscreens as well as his door with some lovely messages for me written in shaving cream. i wish i had photos.
but i did write 494 words of screenplay on friday afternoon.
Nina: (flicks a contemptuous look at Lionel) "Not you, you freaking wino. Bob, what the hell. Are you here with Jerry?"
Bob looks panicky, stretching his palms out in front of himself defensively.
as for the rest of the weekend? a complete creative write-off.
(it was fun though)
love love love
lion
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
8. a limerick!, 9. alien love song
(a) a limerick!
yesterday was unambitious
i knew i would be busy on monday night (ie. last night) so at lunch yesterday i composed a limerick in my head! it is about my friend rowena (she is going to be so happy when she actually reads this blog). i would just like to say that limericks are fucking HARD especially if you try to make them true (ro really doesn't like getting up early)!
i once had a friend called rowena
whose pottymouth couldn't be cleaner
until one fateful morn
when i woke her at dawn
and her language grew quickly obscene-r
(b) alien love song
when i was in high school i used to scribble down sentences i made up that i liked the sound of every now and then, and one sentence i remember really liking was so i sat down and wrote you an alien love song. i'm not sure why i thought it was so great or what it was meant to mean (something incredibly deep i imagine), but this morning i remembered it, so i wrote lyrics for the rest of the song. (pls take with grain of salt, it is a bit ridiculous)
i once loved a boy, and a boy loved me
so we rode our bikes west to chase storms in the sea
but he tumbled in circles and crashed on his skull
to the smash of the waves and the yawn of a gull
the nurse led me straight to his blue bandaged head
he was doped up and dozy in the hospital bed
and in his confusion he muttered for mars
and his x-rays showed bones that were knitted from stars
i saw him that night with white light in his hair
on the balcony staring through ink-blotted air
with his palms facing downward and eyes cast above
so i sat down and pondered my alien love
he smiled when i told him i'd seen him outside
he thumbed my wet eyelids and tickled my pride
but his voice when he spoke was as aching and raw
as a violin bow on a heaving black saw
i still saw his face in the curl of my fist
and i'd contemplate daily the things that i missed
the taste of his fingers, the phlegm in his throat
so i sat down and drafted an alien love note
oh, the voices that hissed at my heels were ferocious
they called him pretentious; they called him precocious
and i've heard the chorusing from all and sundry
"he's probably from balga, or belmont, or bunbury"
and they spoke and they spoke til they thought i had broken
then finally all of their words stayed unspoken
but i knew they were wrong. they had to be wrong
so i sat down and wrote you an alien love song
yesterday was unambitious
i knew i would be busy on monday night (ie. last night) so at lunch yesterday i composed a limerick in my head! it is about my friend rowena (she is going to be so happy when she actually reads this blog). i would just like to say that limericks are fucking HARD especially if you try to make them true (ro really doesn't like getting up early)!
i once had a friend called rowena
whose pottymouth couldn't be cleaner
until one fateful morn
when i woke her at dawn
and her language grew quickly obscene-r
(b) alien love song
when i was in high school i used to scribble down sentences i made up that i liked the sound of every now and then, and one sentence i remember really liking was so i sat down and wrote you an alien love song. i'm not sure why i thought it was so great or what it was meant to mean (something incredibly deep i imagine), but this morning i remembered it, so i wrote lyrics for the rest of the song. (pls take with grain of salt, it is a bit ridiculous)
i once loved a boy, and a boy loved me
so we rode our bikes west to chase storms in the sea
but he tumbled in circles and crashed on his skull
to the smash of the waves and the yawn of a gull
the nurse led me straight to his blue bandaged head
he was doped up and dozy in the hospital bed
and in his confusion he muttered for mars
and his x-rays showed bones that were knitted from stars
i saw him that night with white light in his hair
on the balcony staring through ink-blotted air
with his palms facing downward and eyes cast above
so i sat down and pondered my alien love
he smiled when i told him i'd seen him outside
he thumbed my wet eyelids and tickled my pride
but his voice when he spoke was as aching and raw
as a violin bow on a heaving black saw
i still saw his face in the curl of my fist
and i'd contemplate daily the things that i missed
the taste of his fingers, the phlegm in his throat
so i sat down and drafted an alien love note
oh, the voices that hissed at my heels were ferocious
they called him pretentious; they called him precocious
and i've heard the chorusing from all and sundry
"he's probably from balga, or belmont, or bunbury"
and they spoke and they spoke til they thought i had broken
then finally all of their words stayed unspoken
but i knew they were wrong. they had to be wrong
so i sat down and wrote you an alien love song
Monday, December 01, 2008
7. drawn with eyes closed
(a) drawn with eyes closed
on thursday i did this project that i found on BOOOOOOOM!, which is a really interesting design website. the project was to draw a picture of yourself with your eyes closed, which you could interpret in two ways. so i drew two pictures(!) i am hesitant to post either, since i really am bad at drawing! but i suppose that's not really the point.
(b) bad weekend
i spent basically the whole weekend with mark and consequently i created NOTHING!!
on friday i created NOTHING!!
on saturday i created NOTHING!!
i did spend saturday appreciating the creations of others, though. in the afternoon we went to the cinema paradiso in northbridge to see a film called men's group. there were a number of things i didn't like about it. but i really liked the fact that a film about men-as-emotional-beings was made at all.
and i bought a book called the history of love, by nicole krauss, that a mysterious internet friend recommended to me.
and an album called love is gone which is a new record by jack ladder, who is pretty much my favourite australian musician. now i'm not allowed to buy any new records or books until after christmas. or clothes, unless they're travel clothes.
on sunday just before sunday sports i did play a little bit of guitar, and played around with easy some more. i decided that it really does need another verse, but i didn't write it. and i wrote some words to a different song, but not many.
basically it is time to stop being shit, and start creating things. i might start with a couple of very small projects.
in more positive news: today marks THREE MONTHS since i bit my nails, or drank coffee!
on thursday i did this project that i found on BOOOOOOOM!, which is a really interesting design website. the project was to draw a picture of yourself with your eyes closed, which you could interpret in two ways. so i drew two pictures(!) i am hesitant to post either, since i really am bad at drawing! but i suppose that's not really the point.
(b) bad weekend
i spent basically the whole weekend with mark and consequently i created NOTHING!!
on friday i created NOTHING!!
on saturday i created NOTHING!!
i did spend saturday appreciating the creations of others, though. in the afternoon we went to the cinema paradiso in northbridge to see a film called men's group. there were a number of things i didn't like about it. but i really liked the fact that a film about men-as-emotional-beings was made at all.
and i bought a book called the history of love, by nicole krauss, that a mysterious internet friend recommended to me.
and an album called love is gone which is a new record by jack ladder, who is pretty much my favourite australian musician. now i'm not allowed to buy any new records or books until after christmas. or clothes, unless they're travel clothes.
on sunday just before sunday sports i did play a little bit of guitar, and played around with easy some more. i decided that it really does need another verse, but i didn't write it. and i wrote some words to a different song, but not many.
basically it is time to stop being shit, and start creating things. i might start with a couple of very small projects.
in more positive news: today marks THREE MONTHS since i bit my nails, or drank coffee!
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