One thought fills immensity

boojumlol@gmail.com — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 12:03:04 GMT

I'll be out of town for the next week and probably not checking the internet. This is my annual time out from whatever life is throwing at me. A week filled with nothing but swimming, snorkeling, walking and long, lazy days with the 26 other family members who are also heading up. Actually, considering how many children there are, my days might not be quite as lazy as of yore.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Fri, 11 Dec 2009 01:03:09 GMT

You know that Walk Against Warming rally I posted about last week? Well, it's tomorrow. Yes, really. Check the website if you don't believe me. 1pm Martin Place, for Sydnysiders. I would really appreciate company. It's an international event, timed to send a message to the folk in Copenhagen.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 22:02:01 GMT

For the benefit of the Isobelle Carmody fans who are not on Obernet (everyone else can ignore this), The Sending is no longer coming out in March next year. Best guess is late 2010 or 2011. :( I suppose if I've been waiting sixteen years I can wait a few more.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 00:29:22 GMT

I've decided - on the promptings of another masseur - to keep a pain diary. For real, this time. It might show something I've never noticed before.

Also, there are ants in my room. ANTS. I only left one apple core and they have converged.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 02:59:15 GMT

My last assignment is due tomorrow, which is awesome. Freedom so close. It's going ok - I'm only 100 words off the limit - but I continually disgusted by my inability to stay focused.

I want to include at least one picture of a dead wolf or wolves in my images and the whole process of searching for one I could conceivably use is distressing. There's this horrible, horrible video on youtube I accidentally watched part of, with many pictures of hunters posing with the wolves they've killed, all to a limp bizkit soundtrack. Real classy. I'm starting to wonder if I should rethink the dead wolf image, but one of things I'm trying to do with this exhibition is show that, contrary to the myth, wolves are victims of humans, not the predators. Nothing says victim like images of aerial hunting or a wolf lying on bloody snow.

There are happy posts I've been wanting to make, about my new house and the river, but they'll have to wait a few days.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 10:13:34 GMT

Six hours ago my computer crashed, due to faulty video software. Or something. fengwah just finished fixing it (bless him). My 3000 word essay is due tomorrow and oh god, there's so, so much to do. I usually don't write at night because I can't produce anything good, but I don't really have an option this time.

At least I have chocolate.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 01:52:04 GMT

This is a short video that sums up 350 and what happened on the 24th. It's very cool - all the different languages and the various ways people chose to get the message out.

Another excellent, yet strange dream

boojumlol@gmail.com — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 07:55:15 GMT

I know I shouldn't have wasted time/strength typing this, but I couldn't resist.

I was living in a society as a slave. We weren’t treated particularly badly – I don’t think we were beaten and we had good clothes and enough to eat – but we were still slaves. I was a slave for members of my family – an aunt, uncle and cousins, I believe. They also had a steady stream of slaves who would be here for a few days, and then be sold on, so I never really had a chance to know them properly. One night we were in the huge, massive hall for dinner. It must have been a party or something, for there were at least 50 people there. The slaves were on a raised alcove, like a big stage. It was me and three others – a boy and two girls – who had just come in and already knew one another. In the middle of the feast they walked to the middle of the stage and started singing. It was a powerful, beautiful, heart breaking song about slavery, high and loud and piercing. Everyone stopped eating and listened in silence. The whole roomful of people were so moved by this song that they watched the three slaves walk slowly through the hall in single file and out past the guards without doing anything. I walked after them and escaped too.

I stayed away for a day and night, and then went back. My reasons seemed myriad, and confused. Part of it was that this was my family and I felt a warped sense of obligation, but I had also decided to stay and fight slavery from the inside rather than escape to another land and leave my country with these unjust laws. It would be trite as a book, but as a dream it was awesome.

The previous night I had a Desert Adventure dream, which involved daring human chain rescues over treacherous sand, and walking on thin ledges far about the ground. I really hope tonight gives me something awesome too.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 02:29:20 GMT

If I were a poet I would write an ode to Tiger Balm, waxing lyrical about its icy embrace and heavenly scent. I'm thinking something in the style of Keats' 'Ode to Melancholy'. Not being a poet, I will instead give you a limerick on the fascinating creation of Tiger Balm for a rheumatic Emperor of China.

Said the Emperor 'Cure my pain
Or my lapdogs will feast on your brain!'
Doctors jumped in alarm
And produced Tiger Balm
Bringing peace to the Emperor's reign.

Back to assignments.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 02:37:44 GMT

I just went for a walk in the rain. I realised that since I've lived Sydney, rain has gradually become an adversary. I'm happy it rains, but I hurry to be out of it and gripe when I get wet.

In Albury we were in drought most of the time. The rare winters when we had serious rain - where the river and creeks flooded and the hills turned green - were tremendously exciting. It was normal for us to go for walks in the rain. Sometimes we would go up into the bush, where the banks of clay would turn a vivid, unbelievable red, lush and slick, and the thin trunks of the young wattles would look purple in the wet. Other times we'd take shorter walks around the streets, but even then it would be beautiful - all colours more vivid - and we'd breathe in that wonderful smell.

The first rainfall of Summer would usually come in about February, after months of dry, baking heat. puppydogtail and I would go out and dance in it, shrieking and jumping, teenage dignity forgotten. The hard, crunchy brown grass would turn soft and soggy under feet toughened by running barefoot all Summer. Rain on dry grass had its own unique smell; a bit like baking bread.

I didn't walk far today - just the few blocks to Enmore Park - but I got completely, thoroughly, satisfyingly soaked. I waded through gutters (there was no other way to cross the road) and spun in circles in the empty park. A sister would have been nice, butI was happy with my own company. Now I'm sitting in my bathrobe with a cup of cocoa. The only downer is that I have to turn back to my essay. :(

more 350

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 00:46:26 GMT

I keep seeing things I find really moving.

350

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:05:06 GMT

The photographs from 350 yesterday are amazing. Some made me smile, others are really poignant, like the one in a logged forest in Victoria. And the baby box turtle! So cute! They're still being added - every cycle there are more. I'm glad I made it, even for a little while.

no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike...

boojumlol@gmail.com — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 03:42:33 GMT

I just watched Michael Jackson's 'Thriller' music video for the first time. Yes, I know. Where have I been for the last 26 years? It's hilarious! I can see why it terrified poor little six year old puppydogtail , though.

This wolf/werewolf research is much more fun that starting my tutorial presentation on the Holocaust Museum, but I should probably drop it now. *sigh*

boojumlol@gmail.com — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 01:32:29 GMT

I need the help of people less retarded than me when it comes to popular culture - namesly, my beloved Flist.

I'm making a list of films and television series that have wolves and werewolves in them, preferably in a terrifying way. So far I have:

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Werewolf of London

An American Werewolf in London/Paris

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

A Company of Wolves

Van Helsing

The Neverending Story

Can anyone suggest some more?

ETA: oh, and picture books would be good, like Gaiman's Woves in the Wall. The scarier the better. I'm after imaginary, villainous wolves.

International Day of Climate Action - October 24th

boojumlol@gmail.com — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 05:59:40 GMT

So... 350. I'm tentatively planning to go, but it will depend on how frantic I am then. Assignments and so on. It is most annoying of the organisers to have scheduled it then. Anyway, who else is planning on being there?

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 23:45:16 GMT

There are a bunch of rowdy little larrikins making a fuss outside my window. You may be one of the prettiest Aussie birds, BUT THAT'S NO EXCUSE TO SHOUT! I'm trying to write an essay here, damn it!

boojumlol@gmail.com — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 16:53:21 GMT

It turns out eating chocolate covered coffee beans at night after avoiding excessive amounts of caffeine for a year is not a good idea. Who'd have thought?

I've started work on my assignment again. Studying at obscene hours of the morning is completely unheard of for me. I could never do the all nighter thing.

Grrr arrg

boojumlol@gmail.com — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 11:27:18 GMT

Just watched Becoming, parts 1 and 2. I've only seen them once before and that was a hell of long time ago. It'd have to be the best Buffy season finale ever. Everyone is awesome, especially Spike. Torture! Spells! Sword Fights! Betrayal! More betrayal! Tragedy! Be still, my heart.

historical fiction

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 03:07:31 GMT

Can anyone think of children's historical fiction set in Australia or, ideally, Sydney?The only ones I've come up with for Sydney are Playing Beattie Bow, The House that was Eureka and My Place. I know I know more than that, but my mind's gone blank. It doesn't matter what the age range for the book is.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 07:15:48 GMT

I don't usually post my dreams, but this was oddly real (in a completely fictional sort of way) and I want to remember. I was a 19th Century gentleman; Victorian, I think, judging from the clothes. I went travelling to Egypt - just me and someone else - and I brought back amazingly beautiful jewellery and artefacts - small things, no mummies or sarcophagi. Something of real me bled through, though, and I had the niggling feeling that I was doing something wrong in claiming them and taking them back to England, even though it was what everyone did.

There was an interesting sub-plot in the dream as well. I was travelling with the older brother of my best friend, whom I'd known from boarding school. This man had been an absolute monster to his little brother - and me too, by extension, in the times I'd stayed at their estate. As we all got older, the assaults had changed from physical to verbal and were still nasty. I didn't like him, but there was some reason I had to travel with him. I found out while we were travelling (we were in a carriage at the time of the conversation) that he was massively in love/lust with his younger brother and that was why he'd always been so horrible. Both brothers were attractive, the younger with red gold hair and whiskers, the older with dark hair and eyes.

I woke up just after the dreams became more dream-like and my travelling companion got his period and started drinking camomile tea.

It’s like reading an excerpt from a novel. I want more, especially if it includes steamy passion and conflict between the brothers. Stupid brain.

Dragons live forever...

boojumlol@gmail.com — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 08:46:47 GMT

RIP Mary Travis. Your gorgeous voice was part of the soundtrack of my childhood and adolescence, and your songs helped shape my musical taste.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 23:16:34 GMT

Children imitating cormorants 
are even more wonderful 
        than cormorants.

ETA: I can't have unattributed poetry on my journal, even if it was posted by a devious sister rather than me. Apparently this is Issa.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 15:03:54 GMT

Lol: Robert Browning would be totally hot if he shaved off the beard and got a new haircut.
Anna: Maybe, if you're a lonely, disabled spinster.
Lol: Are you calling me a lonely, disabled spinster!?!
Anna: NO! No, I meant Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Lol: Oh.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 00:57:16 GMT

Sometimes, when researching history, you come across a snippet so odd you know there must be a story behind it. In England in 1860 a new penny was minted. The pattern penny was sent off to Buckingham Palace for approval, but never made it back, as a postman opened the letter and destroyed it and the penny in a closet at the Royal Mint.

What the Hell? How? It must be difficult to destroy a penny in a possibly dark closet unless you have tools. . This version was a little more fragile than the later one, but it still can't have been easy. More importantly, WHY? I can't think of a plausible motivation.

boojumlol@gmail.com — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 13:30:51 GMT

I just had a Disney night with Cassie, complete with a feast of Gin and Tonics, Whizz Fizz, chocolate, dolmades and chips. Feeling slightly ill now, but it was worth it.

It occurs to me that there is no problem that cannot be overcome with the help of small, cute funny sidekicks. If Disney could turn The Little Mermaid into a happy story with the addition of Flounder, Scuttle and Sebastien and The Hunchback of Notre Dame into a rollicking adventure by animating the gargoyles, what could they do with... Hamlet? Give Hamlet an impudent sparrow, a self important frog and a cute mouse and I bet they could singlehandedly prevent anyone from dying and provide a lot of laughs at the same time. Maybe in 50 years Disney will have fixed all our tragedies and the world will be a ~~saccharine~~ ~~creepy~~ ~~hideous~~ happy place.

EDIT: Cassie, I did enjoy The Little Mermaid. Srsly.