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Saturday 30 June 2012
Hey everyone,
This isn't a proper post or anything, but I happened to see Adam Hills' show 'Inflatable' on iView this afternoon. It's not a new show: from what I know it toured way back in like 2009 or something, but it's well worth the travel back in time. Regardless of whether you think he is funny or not (I happen to be lucky enough to find his sense of humour absolutely top-notch in a very relatable and colloquial way - which, ya know, is a pretty good thing), the point of this show, or at least the meaning for the title of show, is such a beautiful and endearing concept that I'd highly recommend finding time for it.

Here's a link for anyone interested (which should be all of you):
http://www.abc.net.au/iview/#/view/884148

And while I'm at it, I think people need to recognise this guy for who he is. He's basically the nicest comedian in the world (NOTE: Have not done nearly enough research for this opinion to be validated. Should probably not be trusted) and I really think he does fantastic things not just for entertainment, but for Australia and of course for the disabled. What a role model for everyone. If you're wild enough in spirit, go just a bit nuts and give this guy a round of applause. Right now, no matter where you are! And don't explain what you're applauding for to anyone, not under any circumstances. Okay, now we're getting ridiculous again. Seriously, though, if you have time, check out 'Inflatable'. I really hope people can get as much out of it as I did.
Saturday 23 June 2012

After the failure of the previous post in explaining my purpose for this blog, I thought it best to just get things under way and let things happen as they will. This is perhaps good practice for life as well, if you are that kind of person.


If this does not warm your heart, I sincerely hope I
don't know you personally (Courtesy: garryknight)
So yesterday I was wandering back from the shops, groceries and chocolate in hand, and saw something special. An elderly couple, probably sixty or seventy at the youngest, walking hand in hand. Now it might seem overly sentimental, but there they were struggling against old age with a pace achingly slow; she with a limp on the side of her hip and he holding her purse with what must have been most of his strength. It would have been a heartbreaking sight except that both of them, somehow, were smiling through it all.

And this is where I began to think, for before now was simply ‘left foot, right foot, birdie, car, tree, tree’. These newfound thoughts were about silence.

It tells us a lot more than you'd think that it could. For instance, I knew from the kind of silence between these two that they had been together for years. Twenty, I guessed, if not more. That’s quite specific for what was in practical terms nothingness, but amazingly enough I am certain I was right. And there’s a certain pride they wore which comes from that bond, which I think when we’re serious we can all agree we long for.

There seems to be this impression that ‘silence is longing’ and all we can do is dream of the other life which for whatever reason we didn't quite get, but I don’t believe in such bitter things or anything quite so macabre. Not about this. Instead, I think we’re all in want of some kind of peace. Peace like enlightenment, except instead of knowing heaps or whatever we’re content to simply sit and breathe the air that we’re in. I know it sounds like crap and I’m generalising like a madman (READ: politician/artist/anything remotely religious) but why else do we grow old and quieter, instead of the opposite way around? Is it that we grow tired from the constant youthful bustle of noise and brazen excitement, or is just that we only later in life find ourselves comfortable waiting, thinking, praying, being?

I grew up on a farm, so maybe my ideas are purely my own stemming from all of my country town-ish experiences, and perhaps I’m overstretching by a long shot in assuming anyone else at all has these wildest of conceptions, too. Still, for all the rushes of the city, the activity and passion (which I love, to be clear), surely eventually things have to wind down when we bring ourselves to calm.

It’s something that I think the Japanese do really well, in allowing themselves to be quiet for the right amounts of time (although if you’re looking for proof of this, don’t go to anime or manga. But do go to them if you’re cool and want something awesome to read. Just saying). Here is a picture that I took of a man in Yoyogi-koen (ie. a park just outside Shibuya in Tokyo):

I took this photo, that's right. Now where's my award?

It’s a tradition on Sundays for buskers to come out to Yoyogi-koen and play their songs and do little performances for everyone to see. Nobody really loiters anywhere (at least not when I was there), but people move through the park doing mostly their own thing, and you’ll see dancers and actors rehearsing and whatnot. Very cool stuff. As you can see, it was winter then, so there isn’t a lot of colour (although that, for me, made it even more thoughtful and emotive), but here we see a man playing his drums in the middle of the park. All alone, with not a single person watching. Well, except the strange white tourists with the rudely loud cameras...

There’s a concept called mono no aware, which I suppose I’d describe as a wistful or somewhat gentle sadness for the inevitability of passing time and having lost things with it. It’s not an idea exclusive to the Japanese. Historically, I don’t even think they were the first to devise it (far from it, based on what I know). The reason I stick with mono no aware (which using my fairly basic Japanese vocabulary, translates roughly to “the sadness of things”) is because of the slightest essence of optimism that they seem to have attached to it. Much like the Japanese culture in itself, I get this sense of sentimentality in such a perfectly, richly and studiously sliced amount, where it blends itself so well with the existence of life, of emotions and consciousness.

Death looks sure pretty for flowers
(Courtesy: monkist)
But I’m getting off-track. I feel like this concept (of accepting that things will pass, but not bitterly or with specific regret for this) is at the core of what we strive for in silence. I don’t mean this in an anti-establishment or elitist manner, but the young have this enthusiasm for holding things, for claiming them, and often I think they aren’t willing to let go, if only from fear rather than clear-cut selfishness. As time goes on this drifts away in parts, until eventually with maturity comes acceptance and value. This is how I see it. And maybe, I think, we show these things, that we’ve found only through the passage of time, through silence.

So what a blessing it would be, to have found someone who joins you in that moment. Silent, connected by a wordless foundation of trust and happily consenting dependence, almost as if they need never speak again. So yeah, I saw an old couple yesterday. It was kind of cool. Kudos to them and all that they meant for me.

P.S. This post was NOT just an excuse for me to post pictures of pretty Japanese gardens or adorable old couples. It was NOT!

P.P.S. A much more visceral experience of mono no aware can be found at http://nighbluey.blogspot.com.au/2010/02/mono-no-aware.html. Feel free to check it out.

So, let’s figure out what this place is and what you guys (the non-gender-specific version of ‘guys’, whereby I am not actually implying anything other than that you are people and at least occasional readers making you immediately closer to my own heart, and therefore making this a simple expression of kinship or some such casual concept. So don’t get all offended if you’re the feminist type) should expect to see. Firstly, as we can see, there will be the occasional rant. Don’t take these too seriously, unless you think there is in fact some validity to what has been said, in which case take up arms with brevity and passion and post a comment or something.

I think also there will be stories, creative things that come in the night like a unique stench or a haunting tapping noise. Perhaps not quite so affective as this, but certainly the idea will be that I will share with you the stories I’ve had on my mind, whether this is via short story, poem or whatever.

Another will be recommendations. Things I think are special, or interesting, or valuable. This includes authors and books. A few other writers have been talking about this really neat idea, which is so, so simple but apparently unthought of. It can basically be summed up as “if you read something and you like it, share it.” People have been doing this for years through borrowing books to friends and talking rabidly about the characters or twists. Why then, do we see so little of this on the great social medias? Writers need help wherever they can get it from whoever will give it, so please, be impelled by the quality of what you read to tell people about it.

Here's my book for today:


By Australian fantasy writer Margo Lanagan, Tender Morsels is dark, twisted and really quite cruel a time for its characters. A fairy tale at heart (anyone who has read the Grimm’s Snow White and Rose Red will see the strong connections at work) with the bitterness of the postmodern age and the sweetness of true magical fantasy. It may be tough, but the author, bless her soul, isn’t unforgiving. Certainly, there is plenty here to be made awkward or confronted by. Beginning with a rape scene that slams you like a falling house, the narrative of Tender Morsels stems off casual violence and bestial tendencies (in the most poetic ways, of course) before stepping so effortlessly into times so sweet, so touching and enduringly non-bitter that there is a fantastic scope of emotional variety. I’d recommend Tender Morsels to the strong-hearted who through it all still love to feel sometimes.

This is longer a review than you need to do. Even a “Have you read this book? It’s really great!” will be such wonders for an industry that’s struggling like ever. If you can find a way to pick this up, please consider it.

But back to the blog! Of course there will be more than what I’ve mentioned already. Anyone who knows me well probably suspects that I move from interest to interest like reading from a global phonebook taken page by page. Expect more to come, but I’ll try to keep it contained to the interesting parts only.

And just so you know, this was in fact me giving up on finishing this entry because frankly, it could have gone for much, much longer and was already probably longer than even medically advisable. That’s probably a good warning for you of the way things will go.
Thursday 21 June 2012
Welcome to the Boobahdore! I'm not sure if this greeting actually means anything yet, as I'm still not entirely sure what you're being greeted into. Hopefully nothing too detrimental to your larger lives, although if anybody asks for your credit card details at any time, you know what not to do. Otherwise, just try to have a good time. Pull up a chair, if you can find one. Someone will be along briefly to take your order... or, well, I dunno... chat or something.

Welcome!

P.S. The next post will be a proper one. If you can bear to wait that long, please hang around.