Brave Creatures

On Monday night I was lucky enough to go to the dress rehearsal for the Commonwealth Games Open Ceremony thanks to my friend David. Unlike some poor souls who paid over $500 per seat for two tickets*, the tickets were free. David is a really good soul and one of the few friends I made in Sydney that I have been glad to keep.

I decided to take a friend with me as her birthday present, because I knew she would enjoy it and it was REALLY expensive, more money than it was worth. Having seen the ceremony in person, I suspect it will be as good if not better on TV.

It’s a good show, even if it is down the “interpretive dance” end of the spectrum, and I am sure that the crowd on the night will make it really exciting. Personally I am going to watch it from home, snag it on the digital recorder and most likely spend much of the time laughing my ass off with the Angel from Brussels. The bit I am looking forward to is Betty Windsor putting up with J’Ho who, if one is to believe the gossip in the homosphere‡, she loathes. Snaps to Betty for a fine piece of character assessment there.

That the Opening is going to be as good or better on TV is an interesting and culturally significant detail, particularly since Miss Communications, Helen Coonan, recently announced proposed sweeping changes to the media ownership laws. Basically it appears to me that the Liberal government is going to bend over and let Rupert and the Ghost of Kerry Packer have their way with them. And in the end, it’s the Australian people who will get royally screwed, or perhaps raped is a better way to put it, if it results in media concentration and a loss of diversity.

Although is it actually rape if you invited them in? Will the Howard governments’ historical defense for them systematically pushing their own, fairly narrow and personal agenda on the country be that they took us passing out as tacit consent?

Will it be possible for Australia to get some kind of social RH486 to deal with the ramifications of our repeated election night indiscretions?

So what will the new media laws mean for Australia? It looks to me like it’s going to mean fewer and not, as Miss Information would have us believe, more voices in the public arena. If international operators continue the march of “Fair and Balanced” reporting, we are likely to see a massive influx of opinion masquerading as news. Coonan’s answer to this is to say that people are able to access news via the internet from a wide range of sources so there will be no loss of choice.

Really? 

Maybe the blogosphere can fight back against the large commercial concerns. Maybe we can make sure the truth is available, but if in the end we do manage it, I suspect its going to be a long hard battle. The barons are used to telling us what to think and they are not going to give up that power easily.

Meanwhile, back at the Commonwealth Games Mrs. Queen actually said a few things that could be construed as critical of the Australian Government, particularly around the concentration of wealth (ironic from one of the worlds richest women, even if she is now below J.K. Rowling and Oprah on that list), cross cultural tolerance and the Indigenous population. Now a days unfortunately being scolded by the queen is less “off with his head” and more being savaged by a toothless corgi, but even at that level of efficacy any bad press for J’Ho is all right by me.

Thinking through the AU$50 million opening ceremony and its shameless attempt to out do Sydney in spectacle and culture, i.e. obscurity, I can’t help wondering if this is the shape of the media landscape to come. Overblown events that speak to a common denominator that is spread so thin, none of us have much in common with it. Or is there some alternative?

Could there be a new generation of technology savvy storytellers out there who are not motivated by greed and who want to see personally engaging stories told?

Oh. Wait. That would be me. Right then, better get to it.

*Tickets which were then being given away a few weeks later. Ouch
‡ And who am I to disbelieve my sisters when they tell me something I want to hear

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Ok, I feel like I have had my hand cut off.

No really.

After three years with an iPod suddenly the fraking thing has gone belly up. At least it was in warrantee. So it's been packed off to Apple for some servicing. Which to be hoenst hardly seems fair. I mean really, if I stopped working would some one ship me to Brussles, where let me tell you, there is an eager and highly qualified technician aching to see to my repair needs.

Cough, Shuffle. Look sheepish.

Where was I? Ah yes, my iPod.
It's amazing how much I have come to depend on it as my source of news and information. I listen to about an hour of news a day on it to and from work, and at the gym and it's become something of an intellectual life line here in parochial old Melbourne.

Oh hurry Apple service, hurry. I can feel my brain shrinking as we speak.

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Now the common wisdom is that one does not dis-respect either the Australian film industry or ones own minority cinema. But given that the opening night film for this years Melbourne Queer Film Festival, "50 ways of saying fabulous" is both from New Zealand and, well, not very good, I feel vindicated in giving it a bit of a raspberry.Actually, since the president or co-convener or grand dame of Melbourne Queer Film Festival (MQFF), or whatever they are calling that position now a day, is an old mate I probably should feel bad about being harsh - but I don't*

Truth be told, the film is ok without being sensational. It is a faithful retelling of the book by Graham Atkins and shares many of the strengths and weaknesses of the original. In particular the story is missing a strong narrative drive. It moves from scene to scene without any real strong, binding story arc. It is in effect 50 vignettes in search of a narrative.

I remember when I read the book I started by really enjoying it, thinking it was really interesting and funny. But as each chapter progressed, a sense of sameness settled over the book each chapter was funny in a self contained kind of way, but they didn't link into anything greater. It felt like the rambling reminiscences of an elderly relative on mild sedatives

The film captures this sense of meandering beautifully.

By moving to the screen, there was the opportunity to bring some of the hero character flights of fantasy to life. In the first 10 minutes that's exactly what they did, and beautifully so. Cross dressing preteens in space, giant monster footballs, flying saucers and some really marvelous acting from the leads.

And then it stops, apart from one wet dream sequence that is more disappointing than anything for its poor execution.

All up I got teased with this wonderful fantasy set that had no follow through.

Sitting back and looking at the whole piece, it's a cute enough coming of age story for a rural fag (autobiographical much) which has some sweet nostalgia if you went through it, but I think fails to connect if you didn't live through it.

If it's a quiet Sunday night in over winter, grab this as a B movie to watch with you beau on the sofa.

*sorry Tony

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clinomania

[fr. Gk klin- : sloping, inclining + -mania]
an overwhelming desire to stay in bed,
esp. on a snowy (or rainy) day

"Clinomania... Not a bad mania, as manias go; and a
reasonably plausible excuse for taking Monday off."
- Peter Bowler,

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What follows is an IM chat between myself and the inestimable Barbie.

Robert says: So do you think that one needs to be dreary to be married? Or at least to stay married

Barbie says: huh?

Robert says: Well I was thinking about Barbie. There are not many boyfriends who would love Barbie as Barbie deserves to be loved

Barbie says: That's a serious understatement - but then you KNOW how I love auditioning them. Even if they fail they are good for an hour or two

Robert says: But surely they should be worth a little more than that. As we both know, they tend to get all intimidated and run off after a while. So I was thinking Barbie is SO FABULOUS And is SO much fun to be around, why don't boys stay

Barbie says: Because Barbie is more than their little minds can handle

Robert says: Exactly, so one wonders Well - wtf is what one wonders first THEN one wonders If this is true Then perhaps only the dreary can get or stay married

Barbie says: You may be onto to something

Robert says: Let's look at the evidence for a second It seems that if you are too fabulous Or too three dimensional They bail after a while

Barbie says: Well one does have to wonder

Robert says: Yes, its food for thought Lets face it Given some of the people who can find a partner the entry requirements cant be too high ne c'pas

Barbie says: This is very true Maybe barbie will be single for ever?

Robert says: Maybe but if you will be I will be too At least we will have someone to gossip with at the old evil queens home

Barbie says: Yes indeed

Robert says: Although I am not sure that things are like this everywhere. Its not been my experience. I hate to point to this as the panacea of all good but I think it might be Melbourne

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Negative feedback is the process of feeding back to the input a part of a system's output, so as to reverse the direction of change of the output. This tends to keep the output from changing, so it is stabilizing and attempts to maintain homeostasis.

When a change of variable occurs within a stable range, the system will attempt to establish equilibrium. Negative feedback is also used in many types of amplification systems to stabilize and improve their amplification characteristics.

A simple and practical example is a thermostat. When the temperature in a heated room reaches a certain upper limit the room heating is switched off so that the temperature begins to fall. When the temperature drops to a lower limit, the heating is switched on again. Provided the limits are close to each other a steady room temperature is maintained. The same applies to a cooling system, such as an air conditioner, a refrigerator, or a freezer.

Negative feedback is a fundamental principal upon which the success of life is based, but is it also the basis for successful relationships? If we are not prepared to put the breaks on in time, why should we be surprised if things spiral out of control?

I was talking to Rugger over the weekend. He is a devastatingly handsome Brit with a huge beefy body and the angelic smile of a little boy. His now ex of a year has just moved out and he is understandably blue about it. They were together for 7 years and from the sounds of things shared something pretty good together.

So what went wrong?

His story is not mine to tell, but there were some similarities to my own that got me thinking. When things are not quite working, what do we do to fix them? Is simply smiling and accepting our partner's failings, when in truth they hurt us, actually an act of kindness or is it as much an act of emotional violence as screaming?

Or am I, in thinking like this, blaming the "victim" as I have been accused?

I have had a boyfriend who was prepared to help me when things got tough. He tried to take all my problems away, to fix things for me. The problem was that it was my self esteem that was most damaged by events outside our relationship and by trying to take my problems from me, he was also taking away my opportunities to fix things for myself and regain my self esteem. Meanwhile he became resentful, and finally he took away the last thing my self image rested on, his love.

I will admit right here I can be a lot of work. I am fiery and passionate, demanding and willful, arrogant and self absorbed. But in all the things I am that are bad I am also devoted and loyal, spontaneous and adventurous. Life with me is not boring. I will also admit that in my depression and fear, I can resort to behavior that does not serve me, that is selfish.

So who was at fault? Or is it just a case of a positive feedback loop making things worse? I simply can't escape the feeling that by not telling me, or perhaps even himself, the truth of how he was feeling, he doomed us to failure. Was I supposed to pluck the truth from the air? Was I supposed to read his mind?

In the end he left, and to this day I still don't really understand why. At the point we were ready to recognize that there was a problem, he just ran away.

For any relationship in life to be successful, you need to allow the control offered by a negative feedback loop to engage. You need to give your input and let it help direct the outcome. To not engage, to not talk, to not face your own demons, that is the real failure.

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Sorry folks. Its been a busy week and I have not finished any posts for a while. I am working on a couple and I will have them up soon. Promise. Mean time here is a link of interest .

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The second day in Cairns started early, and let me tell you that the Frenchman doesn’t rise very gracefully. Not a morning person, but he warms up pretty quickly, and I still have a few tricks up me sleeve to encourage boys in the morning.The trip up the Daintree was with a smallish touring company, called Totally Wild, which uses extra large 4 wheel drives, the kind with three rows of seats.

Our fellow travelers were two Canadian couples in their late sixties and early seventies, from Ottawa, named Bob & Carol, Ted & Alice or something similar. They were the quintessential North American travelers, desiring to see everything through glass and from air conditioning, wanting to avoid contact with actual experience, and having little in the way of informed opinion substituting instead rhetoric.

We got a glimpse of the Canucks somewhat tenuous grasp on Australian wildlife and geography when Carol loudly and repeatedly demanded to know if we would be seeing penguins. Apparently she had been promised penguins. And she did so love the little penguins.

Embarrassed cough. Silence. Change topic.

Suffice to say that they were to provide us with enormous entertainment for the day. They also let me see exactly how subtle and gentle a tease the Frenchman is. I am a filthy tease, but that boy leaves me in his dust*.

The Canucks aside, the rainforest was amazing, and it was literally a rain forest. Pretty much every 30 minutes the sky opened and it bucketed down for about 10 minutes then let up to leave us steaming. The area is incredibly lush and verdant, things grow almost while we were watching, although it is pretty much as dangerous as it is beautiful. It seems that a large number of the more exotic looking plants are spectacularly poisonous, and the natives had a range of complex and methodical ways of turning the inedible, relatively safe. Or in a number of cases mildly narcotic and/or hallucinogenic.

We tried some of the “bush tucker”, well at least Jerome and I did. The Canadians just looked on in horror as we tried fruits, berries, grubs and bugs. I can highly recommend green ant larva, although don’t eat too many, cause they will make your tongue numb. And some of the grubs seemed to remain more active than I would have liked, even after I had bitten their heads off.

The plant life is not the only thing of interest in the Daintree. The fauna is also pretty much out to get you. Although there is a lot in attractive category, the kings of the forest are the cassowary, and the waterways are dominated by crocs.

Everyone knows a bit about crocs, prehistoric remnant and fearful killers, but the cassowary might be new.

This is a prehistoric remnant form Australians prehistoric period of marsupial mega fauna. At a time if 20 foot high kangaroos, these large flightless birds would have been runts, but now, standing at around 6′, they rule the forest with their bad assed, bad tempers. A bird that big, that can run at 30km/h and can jump up to disembowel a man with is RAZOR SHARP, DAGGER LIKE CLAWS.

Fun.

It’s not like Australia has any lack of deadly creatures that it needed to add a super killer bird. I mean for a country that has no major predators, crocs aside, the place is swarming with things that can bite and kill you in seconds.

And you have to wonder about the lack of predators, I have long suspected that they were wiped out by the things they were supposed to prey on. I have this mental picture of the last of the marsupial lions, cowering under a bush as something tiny, poisonous and pissed off scuttled towards it.

From an evolutionary point of view why did these creatures evolve such potent venom? I mean what’s the point if carrying enough toxins to kill 100 men? Seems like over kill to me, pardon the pun.

Let’s take my latest favorite, the Irukandji (Carukia barnesi). This pretty little jelly fish is a crystalline blue, which makes it nearly invisible in the open water. Given they are about the size of your thumb nail, you are unlikely to see them before you run into them.

But oh what joy and delight when you do. Apparently it’s like having your body set on fire, and if not treated within 15-20 minutes, can kill a full grown man. Now what’s the point of that I ask you? An irriganji is not going to eat you, and it’s not like you can learn a lesson from it because a/ you didn’t see what hit you and b/ well your dead.

All in all, the venomous natives of Australia are a bit of a mystery and could challenge the sense of evolution. Although if they are proof of an intelligent designer, they are proof of one with a pretty twisted sense of humor.

So where was I? Oh yes the cassowary. Larger, belligerent, flightless bird with a killing razor claw. They are kind of cute. The canucks stayed in the truck.

There was one encounter with nature they couldn’t avoid, the toilet. The Daintree is well set up for tourists; for all that there is no cabled power. There are a surprising number people living there and a lot of amenities including a host of bathroom, most of which are built to have as little impact on the surrounding rainforest as possible.

The Canadians pretty much insisted that out guide, Paul, Jerome or I went into the bathrooms first to check for snakes or spiders. On one occasion, after we had done our recce, one of the woman retired for a relaxing, and presumably maple scented poop leaving us standing around outside with Paul enthusiastically pointing out the various flora and fauna in the area that was a/ of interest and b/ deadly or otherwise dangerous.

After a while, a horrifying scream came from the toilet block. Paul ran in to find Carol locked in a cubicle, screaming her lungs out. It would seem that a tree frog had been sitting quietly under the rim of the toilet bowl, and with the coming of darkness (i.e. her backside descending) the frog had decided to come out to explore. Unfortunately in the process it had placed a flipper on Carol who predictably (and understandably) had flinched back. Unfortunately since tree frogs have quite powerful suckers on their feet, and an instinctive response to hang on, once things got excited Carol and the tree frog were pretty much bonded.

I am not sure who was more freaked out, Carol, the frog or Paul who had to separate them.

Fortunately, this all happened at our last stop of the day, because that pretty much finished things right there. Carol calmed down as we headed back to Cairns and I am sure she will have insisted on only going near “the little penguins” from there on in.

*it seems that my life if flooding with teasing French speakers. What is this telling me?

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sipid (SIP-id) adjectiveHaving a pleasing taste or flavor.

[Back formation from insipid, from Late Latin insipidus, from in- (not) + sapidus (savory), from sapere (to taste, to know). Ultimately from Indo-European root sep ep- (to taste or perceive) that is also the source of sage, savant, savvy, savor, sapid, sapient, and insipid.]

-Anu Garg (gargATwordsmith.org)

"CBS adds two new comedies to the mix this year, moving the insipid 'Major Dad' to Friday nights to make room for John Ritter and Markie Post in the slightly more sipid 'Hearts Afire'."

Ed Siegel; Monday: CBS is the Ticket; Boston Globe; Sep 14, 1992.

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Looking at the trip to Cairns, there were a few things that happened that are of note. A bunch of things went wrong, I missed a flight (which cost me a chunk-o-change), there were abusive cab drivers and the tour operators for the dive tour blamed us for them completely forgetting to pick us up.

At one point during all of this, Jerome commented that I was remarkably calm, that he was amazed at how gracefully I had been dealing with all of these situations. Reflecting on it, he wasnt the only one amazed.

Strange to see myself so relaxed and happy, dealing with difficulties and annoyances easily and with such grace. Strange to remember how much of my life I was that person and not the other, the angry, frightened childish monster.

My perception of myself over the last two years is that I am a bad person, intrinsically flawed, not worthy of love and deserving of abandonment.

Now, with what feels like surprising suddenness I find that I am actually capable of laughter, surprises and joy. Not only that, but there is more than enough to share. I think the most astonishing part of this is that I recognize this person, this laughing, funny, sharing man.

He recognizable and dear to me. Much more recognizable than the person I have lived with over the last few years. This smiling person is the man who has done the things I am most proud of. He has taken chances, found friends in strange places, placed honor before desire and most importantly, he is the person I believe James fell in love with.

Maybe that shouldn't be my barometer for judging how good a person I am, but in some ways it is. Not that he loves me now, but that I am as good as the person he fell in love with. I dance around it, I try not to mention it, and sometimes even pretend it's not true, but it is; I still love James. I love him and hope that one day he will be back in my life, back in my bed and back in my heart.

I have no basis for this hope other than my own desire and my belief in how he loved me, how we loved each other. But I am not sitting around waiting, there are new people in my life now and I am learning how to open up to them. How to set aside the fear of failure and betrayal.

Whatever the outcome, the best thing for me is to continue this journey I am on; learning, growing, discovering; so that's what I am doing.

And along the way, I am glad to say I am starting to have some fun.

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