2008-08-29T04:23:00.003-04:00

I find myself short on patience with those who don't know where they're going but know the way to their destination.

2008-08-23T05:07:00.003-04:00

A short, yet poignant posting. This is sad news for all B and blaxploitation fans. What with Bernie Mac, Bernie Brillstein, Isaac Hayes, and this, it's not a good month to be an underappreciated member of the entertainment community.

26/4/08

2008-05-27T00:11:00.002-04:00

I have fasted for 39 hours to purify and prepare myself for the journey today. I took to the hills of Topanga that house Eagle Rock to seek enlightenment and, perhaps, a vision. I sought dreams.

My friends the birds sang my path as the breath of the spirits of this place whispered wisdom in my ears. I walked along shaded and exposed paths, following the song of my friends. There was one who followed me, harrowing my steps with his hook, ensuring I did not turn back.

The slight hint of mint flowed on the spirits' breath as I found revelations. I sought new dreams and found only what was. Flowers I had not seen before now bloom along my path. That does not mean they were not there all along, only that they were not ready for me before, or I for them, or both.

There is beauty in the simplicity of what I dream now. It takes time to discover this, and wisdom to rediscover it is more difficult to do something simple and well, to approach perfection in that small thing, than it is to do something grand yet gross.

My friends the birds and the spirits of this place helped enlightenment to find me. They sang me along the path and whispered me what I needed to find.

Dreams need not be grand, and we should not lament not seeing them. Like the flowers, they are always there. There is only for them to be ready for me, me for them, for both.

Horribly Ridiculous

2008-04-20T17:40:00.002-04:00

With emphasis on both the words horrible and ridicule. I am a few months behind on this one, but due to my work schedule, I do not get the chance to catch up on my reading as often as I would like.

My attention was drawn to the story through my subscription to Cryptogram, a very good security monthly newsletter from a very insightful, knowledgeable person. Anyhow, this New York Times article details a case study in how entirely ridiculous is the current culture of fear in the U.S.A. A man who has been a naturalized citizen of the United States since infancy had a very cool idea when his mother suggested he do something with his stamp collection. He decided to visit all fifty state capitols, do some research on the state, design a postcard, take photos to make that postcard, and mail it to himself in the next city on his list using the stamps he had collected throughout childhood. That sounds really cool, actually.

However, some woman who has bought into the message that we must always be fearful was sitting next to him on a flight to Hawaii. He told her of his plan, and she became so dismayed she took his photo while he slept and reported him to authorities as suspicious. This was half-way through his trip to the fifty capitols, and at every successive capitol he was at the very least harassed by authorities or barred from entering the capitol buildings.

He persevered, making it to 49 capitols (running out of money before he could get to Alaska), and his work was displayed, but it is a horrible example of the state of our national consciousness that something so celebratory of America draws such suspicion and poor behaivour. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to take into account the inspiration for his actions rather than thinking, "This guy's parents were Iranian, and he lives in Italy working as a freelance photographer. He must be a terrorist!"

Living in fear is bad for your health and really cool art projects.

Because I Feel the Need to tell Everyone

2008-02-18T02:09:00.005-05:00

I just saw a beautiful print of Song of the South! It was awesome! The only people with desirable qualities are the black people and those who listen to them (the young, rich, white boy and the poor, white girl). The rest of the rich, white folks are worthless (Well, the poor, white parents seem ok, what little we see of them). Anyway, it was super and raised my mood a bit. Now I have to find my own copy.

Back to L.A.

2008-01-02T16:25:00.000-05:00

It's been a while, fans, but here's another post. Being unemployed, I figured it wouldn't be any worse to be unemployed back home, visiting family for Christmas than being unemployed here. I had a great time visiting my family and some friends for thirteen days. I always seem to be happier around Christmas. That could just be my perception, though. At any rate, it was really good to see everyone, and I was more reluctant than usual to return to my regular world of a minimally furnished apartment and rapidly diminishing capital.

I flew back into town on New Year's Eve because flying any other day around it would have raised the cost of airfare by thirty percent. I read most of the way, but took to looking out the plane window as we neared LAX to notice a good number of Christmas decorations still up and running, which helped continue the feeling of wellbeing I was rapidly losing on the journey by refreshing memories of the recent past.

The plane arrived early, and all of the cabin and reading lights were out while we waited on the tarmac for our gate to be open. Of course, everyone had to turn on their mobile phones at the first opportunity, but my initial annoyance at this observation of the artificial necessity to be constantly connected was abated when I noticed the aesthetic effect these phones had on the environment inside the plane.

Red and green indicator lights were reflected on the ceiling in a manner that I found still festive. Then, the soft blue glow of small LCD screens springing to life flickered across the panels above the seats and the aisle. Differing intensities and the subtle variations in color from the myriad devices and their brightening and dimming of their screens created a play of light over everything that I found to be quite beautiful.

The feeling of wonder fled quickly when I failed in my attempts to tune out the inane conversation a passenger behind and to the right of me was having. Childish complaints of an approximately five minute wait for our gate to open up and how airlines can't get things done efficiently (completely ignoring that we arrived more than five minutes early). This and other inanities, because I found them impossible to fully ignore, brought a lovely waiting experience to an early end.

Now, I'm back. I have entirely too much time on my hands until I find work, so maybe I'll actually post items of greater substance. That and start reading for pleasure and enlightenment again. I never can do that while in school.

By Popular Demand

2007-10-14T00:54:00.000-04:00

I suppose I will give a bit of detail on what's been taking up much of my time until lately. As for the length, I make no promises. Anyhow, I'm taking three classes in this BU L.A. Internship Program. They just wouldn't let me out of them. They are useful classes, but after successfully completing my degree requirements, it is annoying to have superfluous (so far as grades are concerned) classes have an influence on whether I receive my degree. Though they are three in number, the classes are not taking up all that much of my time right now because I've been neglecting the work I should be doing for them.

My internship at Muse Productions was the biggest time draw. It involves faxing, taking calls, making calls, printing and copying screenplays, and many other general office tasks, including reading material that is in development. That last bit is what got me involved with Mama Black Widow.

Mama Black Widow is an adaptation of a novel of the same name written by the notorious pimp, Iceberg Slim. It essentially tells the tale of a sharecropping black family that moves to Chicago in the 1930s, believing it to be a promised land. Things are not as the family imagines, and they are faced with tragedy of many kinds by their tale's end. The book has its faults, but the underlying story is sound, and the roles have great potential for actors to showcase their emotional range.

I logged 72 hours (there could have been and probably were more that I neglected to log) of work outside of my regularly scheduled internship time preparing reference books for the screenplay adaptation. For this, I broke down the screenplay by scene, which characters appear in that scene, a brief description of what transpires in the scene, and in which chapter and on what page said events appear in the book. I, then, pulled pages from a copy of the book's manuscript and highlighted the portions of each page to show what was used in the screenplay. The collections of pages were labeled with screenplay scene heading and screenplay page number and collected with the breakdown table, highlighted pages, and a copy of the screenplay into a binder for reference.

It was a good bit of work, but I do know the story very well now. All I have left to do is figure out how to list this on my résumé.

What's Happened?

2007-09-21T10:38:00.000-04:00

My template looks like it's missing, but the code is still there. Why, Google? Why must my posts now look horrible just because I don't now have the time to learn XML and adapt the old template to the new format? Will anyone read my tirades on glamping and suburban living if they look like an eight year old posted them?

Find out the answers next time when I actually might have time to answer them.

Catchings Up II

2007-08-13T17:23:00.000-04:00

Aside from hauling my things across the country on my way to L.A. for a BU internship program, I had the opportunity to promote enflight.com at EAA's AirVenture expo in Oshkosh, WI. I spent the vast majority of my time working, but in between I ate some decent food (Li Yang's had surprisingly good Chinese food [to my palate], Fratello's had some good microbrews [the blueberry went quite well with salad, and their porter and stout were very tasty] and the crab cakes were good, and the beef carpaccio salad at the Water City Grill was lovely) and saw a few things worth mentioning.

When I wasn't working or engaged in admiring the food I was eating or, in a manner I'm certain is nowhere near as subtle as I'd like, the physical attributes of those serving it, I caught a little bit of the airshows at AirVenture. F-15s opened the expo, flying about at 0900, waking those camping who had not yet risen. There were many bi-planes at the ends of the days. They were fun to watch for a short time, but the repetitive movements of their routines precluded long term viewing.

In the last few days of the show, different planes made appearances. There were F-86s, amongst others, flying around performing simulated bombing runs complete with imitation bomb hits. The F-117A is surprisingly quiet even at very low altitude and makes quite the intimidating profile in the air. The F-22 was rather impressive to my novice eye. It would fly about rather quickly with afterburners going, then slow down appreciably, maneuver the nose up ninety degrees, engage the afterburner, and climb quite far. The pilot also nestled the F-22 in behind the wing of a P-52 for a pass.

On a completely side note, because it just happened to occur right here, I thought I'd mention that I had the opportunity to play with an iPhone while demonstrating enflight. The iPhone is a rather slick little device. The ease with which screen magnification is achieved or the transition from full to wide screen was entertaining.

They screened a number of aviation related films at AirVenture on a very large, inflatable, outdoor screen. The night I attended, they were showing Apollo 13. I've seen the movie before and felt it to be well done for what it was, but not enough to drag me out into a summer night in Wisconsin (often quite humid and not too pleasant from what I recall). This screening, however, was to be introduced by Jim Lovell himself. Why wouldn't I go to that?

When I say introduced I mean someone asked him relatively inane questions to which Lovell gave answers. He said a lot of things, but I only really recall a few. He stated that he, Fred Haise, and Jack Swigert didn't put all of the best stuff over the radio recordings because they thought it would make a good movie some day if they survived.

There was the tiresome "How do you use the bathroom in space?" question. The reply was more entertaining than expected. Lovell had been around for the testing of the initial prototypes and told us that the first one had basically been a can with a hose on one end that used air pressure to pull the contents of the can out the other side. Before anything gets used in space, it first has to be tested by test engineers in the Vomit Comet. The word from the test engineers on the first prototypes was negative. NASA eventually found one it liked, and Lovell and Frank Borman (if I'm recalling which mission it was) had the honor of field testing it. According to Lovell, the conversation went something like: "I think it's that time Jim." "Can't you wait another nine days?"

He talked of meeting with Ron Howard and Tom Hanks to discuss making a film of the book he and Jeffrey Kluger wrote. As he was leaving the meeting, Hanks caught up to him and asked when he could study Lovell so he could more accurately portray him on film. A date was set for Hanks to fly to an airport near Lovell's home in Texas. Lovell met Hanks there and flew them back to his house. He made sure the typically 30 minute trip took one and one half hours while he hearkened back to his test pilot days to perform some aerobatics, figuring if Hanks was going to play him on screen, he should at least have a little idea of what the test piloting experience is like. That and it was just fun to spring that sort of thing on an unsuspecting actor.

While in Oshkosh, I missed the opportunity to see a show in Madison with my friends Laura and Brian because I did not have access to my own rental car. That is more unfortunate than it might sound as I have no idea when I might make it near enough Indiana to say hello. I took some decent photos of cloud formations on my flight back, though.

That about catches everything up. I think. Maybe. I can't remember really, so this will do. Colorado is as it was, for the most part. I just have to remember to get out and enjoy some of it while I'm trying to accomplish home-based things.

Someone Should have Told..

2007-05-16T08:07:00.000-04:00

Rowan Joffe, Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, Jesus Olmo, and Enrique Lopez Lavigne that I should be spending this online space on something more than poopoo-ing the movie they wrote, and directed in the case of Fresnadillo. It could also have been the fault(s) of Bernard Bellew, Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, Andrew Macdonald, or Allon Reich. I'm just imagining a development meeting that went something like:

1st Person Responsible: Hey, why don't we make a thinly veiled allegory of the war on terrorism and the situation in Iraq?

2nd Person Responsible: Sounds good, but how will we illustrate the difficulty in determining terrorist from civilian on the ground?

3rd Person Responsible: Remember that movie 28 Days Later? It'd be pretty hard to tell who was infected and who wasn't if everyone were running around like crazy.

4th Person Responsible: Yeah, and we can make a big deal about there being kids involved so we can get interest from the "WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN?!?!?" crowd.

All Together: Perfect!

Yes, I'm referring to 28 Weeks Later, and this entire post is riddled with spoilers. If you intend to see the movie, and knowing certain details will ruin it for you, stop reading now.

I didn't think I'd like it based on the trailers, but I went to see it with some friends anyway. The opening sequence was rather good, and I started to reconsider my initial scepticism. Perhaps it was just a bad trailer.

Alas, the slow start to a downhill descent happened not much later. After intertitles inform us that X weeks after the outbreak in the UK the infected died of starvation and Y weeks after that a US led NATO force comes in to clean up, we see some cleaning up and a shot of a lone young woman in a t-shirt and b.d.u. bottoms standing in the glass of a very quiet airport. A plane has arrived and is offloading the repopulators. Surveying these people, the woman speaks over her radio something to the effect of, "No one told me we were letting in children." Great, the trailer didn't lie to me.

The military is in control of London with bored snipers on the rooftops (the infected have all starved off after all), fully armed men guarding the gates to the city and on patrol in the streets, helicopters overhead, and machine gun emplacements. The only known safe place is Zone 1 (or whatever they called it) with this heavy military presence, running water, electricity, &c. Outside of that, there's still the danger of the odd infected person still being alive, and even if that isn't a danger, there are still all sorts of bodies and organic material that needs cleaning up before repopulation. *gasp* This couldn't possibly be an allegory for the "Green Zone" in Iraq could it?

We see the kids joyous reunion with dad, and the tearful revelation that their mother was the histrionic killed in the opening sequence. But wait, the kids sneak past the gates (they are seen by a sniper who sends a helicopter to follow them) to retrieve their favourite things from their old home. What of their most favourite things do they find there? Why, their mother of course. It turns out she's infected, but genetic abnormalities keep her asymptomatic.

"SAVE THE CHILDREN" doctor woman wants to keep her alive for study and a possible cure to the infection. Why the research into a cure couldn't be done with computer records of the infection's construction and materials that would inevitably be found in computer records from the lab that created it is beyond me. At any rate, the NATO commander prefers to kill her and let the doctor examine the body for her answers.

Somehow, an unspecified amount of time passes between the commander's decision to kill the woman and when it actually would have happened. The kids' father uses his all access pass to see his wife, becomes infected, then we're back in the zombie movie. The doctor retrieves the children in a desperate attempt to get them to safety, since she's obsessed with the curative potential contained in their possible genetic abnormalities.

The civilians are herded into isolation pens and are repeatedly told it's "for their safety." I think we're supposed to feel confused and/or outraged, but it only makes sense in the event of an outbreak. Of course this set-up is too perfect and, predictably, the dad with the all access card finds his way into one of these secure areas. Cue all hell breaking loose.

The soldiers are instructed to kill the infected only, but it is understandably difficult to tell sprinting, crazed, killer zombie from sprinting, insanely frightened civilian. The order comes down to kill everything not in uniform, as it should. Really, isn't it better that they go quickly with a bullet than being torn apart by zombie teeth or becoming infected and doing something similar to their friends and loved ones?

So, it seems we're supposed to feel the killing of the civilians is not the correct action just like the sniper, the same one who spotted the kids on their way to their old home earlier, becomes another "SAVE THE CHILDREN" guy after getting the little boy in his cross hairs. He turns prototypical action hero and tries to lead a group of civilians, who barricaded themselves in building, to relative safety outside the killing zone. The doctor and two kids are among this group.

There's been too much exposition already, so, long story short, stuff happens, they run from the infected and kill some others, they run from the military, doctor gives super crap line "their lives are worth more than mine... or yours" with reference to the genetic curative potential, there's a very Silence of the Lambs gun sight and night vision bit. Also, because the doctor didn't see fit to share with the kids that they could possibly be infected but asymptomatic and contagious, the boy becomes infected, shares his mother's genetic bit, is evacuated with his sister, and infects France.

See, if only they'd 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN,' Europe, Asia, and Africa could have been saved! The safe zone is only safe if your personnel remain uninfected. Given the choice between shooting civilians, including children, or letting insurgents run free, choose the latter.

Oh, wait. Wow, my thinking about this whole thing was so uptight. Let's look for less surface messages. Everything was going well enough with the reclamation of London, supermarkets and a pub and such, until an insider fraternized with an infected. So, with better psychological testing during the vetting process, this avenue of infection into the safe zone could approach elimination.

Once the infectious agent is introduced in to the populace, its containment and elimination should be top priority. If containment is impossible there are two options: eliminate the population and thereby the infection, or allow the infection to run its course, leading to the situation before NATO's arrival of a few survivors and starved off infected. The first option seems more humane because the death will probably be less painful, but the second offers less moral dilemma for the individual soldier. Anyhow, the 'THINK OF THE CHILDREN' crowd actively try to subvert actions that are not only in their own best interests, but in the best interests of the world. These people annoy me to no end and lead to bad legislation here in the real world, I am pleased with their vilification here.

Well, this new look shows a little more subtlety and a subversiveness (as far as it seems to be generally regarded that shooting civilians is always a bad thing) in the movie than I had thought there. The fanatical humanitarianism of the 'SAVE THE CHILDREN' characters does nothing but kill off a very large portion of the world's population (While this is the only solution I see to effectively moving human population back to a sustainable living arrangement, the film doesn't seem to see it as a good thing). That's quite an indictment.

I might just have to change my opinion on this one. I'm definitely with my new interpretation. Let's give the finger to the 'WON'T ANYONE THINK OF THE CHILDREN' people.

Oh, and to finally see a helicopter used as a weapon in a zombie movie was rather nice. I mean seriously, it's a giant lawnmower asking for heads to chop off. Why did it take so long, or why haven't I discovered the movies in which it was previously used?

All Done?

2007-05-03T22:06:00.000-04:00

So... if all's well, I have finished with my graduate studies. I'm still awaiting grades, but I should have earned an MFA. Now, I'm just waiting on word of whether I've been accepted into a university run internship program. If not, I'll be working some crap jobs until I figure out what I can get.

On the bright side, we had the great pleasure of filling out course evaluations for the worst professor I've ever had today. I typed up a supplement to the questions because my answers were too long to write in a timely fashion, and I doubted I would remember all of my sentiments. It just so happens I was correct: I did not save the supplement, and I've forgotten the wording.

As best as I can recall, it contained some of the following:

The instructor failed to adequately explain concepts through inconsistency and incomprehensibility. For example, he would admonish against "doing psychology" while at the same time asking what a character in a film was feeling.
The instructor was quite willing to entertain debate if said debate did not stray from his preconceived notions. Should it stray, he would condescend to the student who held the differing opinion and quickly move on to another topic.
I have not done extensive searching, but I believe I coined the term 'sycophantastic' when taking up the question of this instructor's treatment of students. He treats his sycophantastic students and auditors well, lavishing them with praise. The others are, as mentioned above, condescended to or discounted entirely.
On a related note, his grading is far from fair. I believe I will receive a moderately good grade because I spewed out whatever drivel he wished to hear by using careful notes to get as far into his head as I could stomach. Others who had more integrity, spoke their own ideas and were penalized for it. This could have something to do with his stated belief that there are "right" and "wrong" interpretations of films and other works of art.
The worst part of the course was the instructor. The course could be improved if it were taught by a different instructor who was more willing to entertain opposing views.

I think those were the main points. It had quite a bit more text and was, perhaps, much better worded. I am pleased I, as far as I know, coined the term sycophantastic and hope to see it, with proper attribution, used in the future.

Edit: I just did some searching, and, sadly, I am not the coiner of the term. I apparently need to get out more.

This Filthy World

2007-04-10T21:27:00.000-04:00

I just got back in from seeing John Waters' one man show, "This Filthy World." It was great, and I wish I would have known last week that three seats for the seminar he'll be doing tomorrow morning would open up. I could have asked for the day off. Instead, I'll be outside the city having not nearly as much fun. I should go into far more detail, but those won't be fully imprinted until I've reminisced far too many times with fellow attendees. Among the highlights was learning that one of his favorite directors, if not his absolute favorite, is Joseph Losey who, if I haven't already mentioned my affinity for his work here, is also on my short list. My friend Devon intends to ask him about Boom tomorrow; he should also mention Secret Ceremony.

Other highlights:

I learned what a blossom is in certain vernacular circles.

A lovely idea for getting your young girls to stay away from pregnancy.

An awesome quote I think I'll muddle, but someone will correct me. He mentioned Michael Jackson and how Jackson has a burn unit in his house that is full of children. We were asked to imagine being a child in that burn unit, looking up at a little window and "seeing Michael Jackson up there dressed like Joan Crawford. He comes down the stairs and stands next to you, 'Does it hurt? Would you like some ointment?' And he pulls out his flaccid, polka-dotted penis and drops an oily load on your leg." How can you beat imagery like that?

I also have three new goals in life thanks to John Waters (listed in order of likelihood):

1. Touch myself while voting.
2. Have sex on Waters' grave.
3. Steal John Waters' body.

With three new goals for life, I'd say this evening went rather well.

Further Musings

2007-04-10T15:35:00.000-04:00

I really don't intend to post everything that runs through my head as I sit in this one particular class, but I wrote wrote out far too much today to leave it moulder in my notebook. I'm sure I've used some of the words incorrectly, but I don't quite care right now.

How could there possibly be limits to interpretation? Certainly, there can be arguments over elements intentionally included in a work. If a film, book, poem, musical composition, &c. was made long beforehand, it doesn't follow that links or allusions to World War II, for example, are intentionally placed within the work, but that hardly negates the possibility of a viewer/listener having various links appear in its mind. Because all interpretation is subjective, any "right" or "wrong" interpretations are only able to be defined so through the imposition of an artificial, arbitrary framework of cognitive restrictions by an authoritarian body whose continued importance and existence is contingent on the maintenance and continued longevity of these structures.

There is no "wrong" interpretation. When asking if a work of art can erect boundaries within which interpretation is valid while anything outside is not, there is a conflation of two separate elements: what is intentionally placed within the work by the artist(s), and the way said artist(s) desire for the work to be interpreted, and what the observer experiences upon contact with the work. It would be exceedingly silly to suggest some wildly divergent element was expressly included in the work if it is not in the artist's (immediate?) frame of reference and experience. However, what is experienced by the viewer is dependent upon said viewer's own frame of reference and experience, and this cannot be quantified for all possible viewers. It stands to reason that there can be no wrong interpretation in this territory.

To say that the filmmaker intended for an element of the film to evoke the idea of pedophilia can be wrong. To say that viewing an element of the film evoked in one or more viewers the idea of pedophilia cannot.

Side note: I'm sorry to break it to you professor, but "correct" interpretation is defined by the current hegemony of one's discipline and not by something inherent in the material being interpreted.

What wonders will spring forth in the coming class meetings?

Classroom Musings

2007-04-03T22:53:00.000-04:00

While sitting in class this morning, we were treated with a speech on why the professor feels he failed the class because we were not reacting in the proper manner to the stupendously wonderful art that is Mark Rappaport's Scenic Routs. He was so disheartened by this turn of events, he felt that we needed something "easier" to work with. During the speech, he declared that ideas are not (in) film, they are a resistance mechanism employed because we are frightened of the dangerous implications of the artwork. The following is what sprang to my mind and was written during the speech (a bit of rewording has been done; it's a second draft):

<Professor's name> says he's not teaching ideas but shaping students' perceptual apparatuses. However, if one shapes the apparatus of perception, is that not teaching ideas by proxy since it is by way of what and how we perceive that information is processed and interpreted, resulting in the formation of ideas, values, and tendencies? I should answer in the positive. Stating you seek to shape the interpretive apparatuses of the students is simply a circuitous method of stating you seek to instill within the students a mindset conducive to their ideas and values echoing your own. It is different from teaching ideas in that it is almost more insidious because the perceptual apparatus is not a pre-formed thought structure or filter that is easily recognised by those who use it and just as easily discarded. Instead, it is like a sort of genetic parasite that weaves its way into the perceptual filters constructed by its student hosts when they seek to find their own way. Certainly, other forces act in a similar manner, but they will often own their part (i.e. parents, religious leaders, &c.) rather than act an innocent party.*
* Some exceptions apply (i.e. governments).

Last week, was this:

Because art, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, the designation of a work as art is quite subjective. Designations of greater or lesser value to art become doubly so. As such, the only definite right or wrong answers to questions about art are those your instructor wishes to hear. The same holds true for interpretive issues as well.

Are they pompous? Possibly. Pretensious? Probably. Make sense? Maybe?

At least it's therapeutic enough to prevent assault each day when I realize I'm paying for the mostly wasted time I spend in that class?

'Stache

2007-03-28T22:05:00.000-04:00

This past weekend, I was part of a team making a short for Campus MovieFest. I don't know about everyone else, but I had a great time. We came up with the scenario on Tuesday: A Luchador is fired from a realestate job because taking off the mask is unthinkable. Wandering dejected, the luchador passes a down-and-out gorilla and banana when a clown snatches the mask away. Horror fills the luchador until a Burt Reynolds type moustache is seen on the ground. It finds its way to her face, and we see her successful next to a picture of the man himself. Could there be a more awesome movie in the contest? I don't think so.

It took a good bit of time to edit, and the scoring went badly enough that we had it scored by someone else, but I have to say that assisting with the editing was a good bit of fun. I'd like to do more of it. I wish I would have known someone who was participating in this (BU doesn't) last year; it would have been a good time.

I've still not seen the finished product, and I'm quite eager. At any rate, joining the The Okie made me do it film cooperative was a very welcome break from the putrefaction of joy brought about by incessant analysis of films along stultifying lines of argument ridden into the ground long ago like a bomb between the legs of Maj. T.J. Kong.

Die Große Stille Part 2: Back to the Monastery

2007-02-07T22:58:00.000-05:00

And the Lord passed by.
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart
and shattered the rocks before the Lord,
but the Lord was not in the wind.
After the wind there was an earthquake,
but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
After the earthquake came a fire,
but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
1 Kings 19, 11-13

For a sort of introduction/background on this movie see my previous post on this film, my friend Devon's review, or the official website for the film. Also, I know the stills are small. If I find larger promo shots, I'll replace them.

I had the distinct pleasure of viewing this film for a second time on a cinema screen at the Harvard Film Archive, and as I sit here enjoying the order's namesake libation, I feel the overwhelming desire to put fingers to keyboard that I may lay down here further viewing notes, or what I like to call a sort of review.

On this second viewing, I found myself even more captivated than the first. I began noticing many small details I had missed the first time around. The framing of the human body echoing the topography of the mountains around the monastery and the architecture of the monks' chapel. The film's tendency to place ears in a prominent position, seeming to suggest the silence observed by these men allow them to hear something we cannot. Subtle nuances of shadow gradients down long corridors changing ever so slightly over the duration of a shot. Becoming more aware of how much each of the monks says to us during his close-up without saying a word. The many textures of water presented that I had overlooked. I believe I would be hard pressed to find a writer to do justice to the imagery and the emotional content it conveyed. I am certainly not up to the task.

Seeing the monks again was like seeing old friends. Following tonight's viewing I found myself feeling a sort of peace. I also had a very strong desire to watch the movie again. Despite seeing most, if not all, of what I had seen before, and noticing volumes more than I had previously seen, there was so much that I am certain I missed.

For those of you who may be reading this sometime recent to when it's posted, and that are close to New York (this means you, Brandon), I highly recommend seeing this movie. Well, so long as it seems to be your sort of thing. If not, please, please, please do something else. Don't be like the annoying girl two rows in front of me with her mobile phone open, texting or whatever she was doing and bothering those close enough behind her to see the blue glow of the phone's lcd screen.

Anyway, those of you near New York for whom a three hour, nearly silent, meditative delving into the life of an ascetic clerical order sounds appealing are in luck. This movie is scheduled to be playing at Film Forum 209 W. Houston St. in NYC from February 23 through March 13. Show times are listed as 13:15, 17:30, and 20:30. If I summon the wherewithal, you might just see me at one of the screenings.

New Year's

2007-02-04T12:34:00.000-05:00

New Year's Eve rolled around again, as it tends to do periodically, and we indulged in a more recent family tradition. A few years ago, the fast food chain Chick-fil-a began selling calendars with coupons for their products inside. The coupons for December were for a free small brownie tray with the purchase of a large chicken nugget tray. As Chick-fil-a nuggets are very tasty, and my dad would not pass up using such a coupon once he had it, we got the tray of nuggets for New Year's. It lasted for at least a week afterward (roughly 250 come on a large tray). Despite the incentive turning from a brownie tray to a gallon of tea, we have continued to get a nugget tray for New Year's.

The nuggets this year, as usual, were quite enjoyable. My parents stayed in for the evening and caught the small fireworks display that appears annually at the top of the mountain. I rang in the new year with a large number of friends and acquaintances at a bar called the Metropolitan. It was a decent enough place. The garlic-chipotle stuffed olives made for an interesting flavor in the gin martinis. I also found out that I had won a friend over to the Ciroc vodka camp (If you're looking for quality vodka, Ciroc is where it's at). The hostess ended up being the waitress for our group, and she did rather well accomodating us. The night was relatively uneventful, except for Karl losing his phone and the guy who found it being kind enough to call one of the numbers in it to arrange its return, and around 01:00 we adjourned.

I got to work with Forrest again at kung fu class again on the first. He's a really good guy, and it looks like some good things could be lining up for him soon. If things work out, I'd be quite happy for him; they couldn't happen to a better person.

I've forgotten most of what I did between the first and the fifth, so we'll just leave that bit out. I think sudoku was involved in there somewhere though. Anyway, there was a get together to be attended on the fifth with more friends I don't run into nearly enough either online or off. It had snowed a little more in the mean time, so I wasn't taking any chances, what with being somewhat rusty at driving after nearly a year with no practice, and decided to make it a dry evening. It was fun seeing everyone and bonding with John and Christina over our displeasure that American cigarette packs lack the lovely pictures of diseased body parts to be found on cigarette packs in Canada and Australia.

Saturday was supposed to be a day to hang out with friends as well as family before flying out on Sunday, but a bit more snow said no to the friends portion. I spent the day with my family, doing various things around the house, including figuring out exactly what I could and couldn't fit in my luggage for the return trip. That evening we went to see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer.

In short, Perfume is the tale of a young man who, as a result of being abandoned to die in the fetid streets of Paris at birth by his mother, develops the ability to discern every element of a scent no matter how small. Something like being able to smell the difference between two different lichens residing next to each other on a rock 300 yards distant would be an effortless feat for him. Being an orphan, he is, of course, abused and put in any number of unpleasnt places, which he just takes as his lot in life. Then, one day, he catches the scent of a beautiful young woman, and becomes obsessed.

Hers is the most pleasant scent he's ever experienced, but he hasn't the words to express this to her when she notices him smelling her. Consequently, she gets severely creeped out and runs away. He, of course, follows her scent to where she went. She notices his presence again just as two people stumble through the alley. Covering her mouth to stifle a scream of alarm, he accidentally kills her only to find that the scent that had so intoxicated him fled quickly afterward.

That's the first bit of the film, the rest concerns his apprenticing to become a perfumer so he can learn the secrets of capturing scent. I'm sure after just reading the above any number of possible readings jump to the fore, but I'll not offer one. One of the issues most talked about with regard to this adaptation is how it would be possible to transfer the intricate discriptions of smell from the book into visual equivilancies. It seems they've done it well enough. I'd encourage anyone reading to give it a look. I intend to see it again, if only to get a firm grasp on my opinion. The only question is if I'll find it in a cinema or have to wait for Netflix.

Sunday, 7 January found me back in Boston before midnight. Now, I get to go to one class I'd really rather not be in, and I get to decide if I want to play the odds in the job market doing what-have-you to pay the bills, or if I'd like to go another $25-30K in debt trying to land some relatively low-paying job through BU's L.A. internship program in the Fall.

Decisions, Decisions.

Christmas

2007-02-03T13:23:00.000-05:00

On Christmas Eve, we did what we've been doing for pretty much as long as I can remember: drove around looking at people's Christmas light displays. This year was a little different from the previous years, however. Usually there will be at least one pizza shop open ungodly hours on Christmas Eve, and we will typically get a pizza or two to enjoy during our journey. This year, there wasn't even one open. It was highly disappointing. But we did the gazing anyway, and it was an enjoyable family time.

Christmas was good. After the last post, I'm sure I don't have to say it was a white Christmas. Everyone seemed to like the gifts I got for them. My sister was a little taken aback at first with her kangaroo scrotum coin purse I brought back from Australia, but she eventually warmed to it. The shirt I got for my dad fit quite well and looked good on him, and I'm hoping my mother will actually like the wines I brought for her once she tries them.

I was gifted with a number of things that I quite enjoy. Some of the dried fruit tray is still around, surprisingly, and the book of extraordinary facts and interesting random information that my sister got me for my birthday sees use every day. Eventually, everyone I see on a daily, or more infrequent, basis will be subjected to the massive amount of information I will glean from that book over time. I could list off all of the great things I was given for the holiday, but I just don't think lists like that are my style.

My mother prepared a very tasty Christmas lunch/dinner. I offered to assist, but as is often the case, she said I wasn't needed in the kitchen and should relax. I ate more than I should have, but it was too good to stop.

A few days later, I found out exactly how atrophied my martial arts skills have become when I went to kung fu class. We did some slow speed, bare knuckle sparring, and I found out that both my defensive and offensive skills are quite a bit lesser than they used to be. It was a good time, and I was lucky enough to get to go back a number of times before I returned to Boston. The next day I was snowed in until the weekend.

On the thirtieth, my friends Jon, Mike, and I gorged ourselves on some of the best sushi I've had. Surprisingly enough, it came from a place in Colorado Springs. Shinji's Sushi Bar is awesome. Shinji is great, and so is the food he makes. Mike works there as a waiter and did the ordering for us, so I don't recall the names of the items we ate. Well, except one, the Jake #1 roll. It was stupendously good. At any rate, much of what we ate wasn't on the menu because at least half of what Mike ordered was written in as "chef's choice." These choices were awesome as was the miso soup, seaweed salad (complete with bits of jellyfish), premium sake, and anything I'm forgetting to list. Shinji's is also one of the few Japanese owned and operated sushi shops in the area.

If you're in Colorado Springs and looking for sushi, go to Shinji's. Just don't go when my friends and I are there having chef's choice sushi. We arrived when there were few people. The place filled up with people when Shinji was less than half way through our orders. Many of those people were waiting 30 minutes or more thanks to us. It was somewhat entertaining.

After sushi, we visited our friend and kung fu teacher Ren. We had some beers, chatted a bit, and watched some of a Zeppelin live DVD. It was a very good time, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't get to hang out with him again this trip.

Is it new year's eve already?

White Power

2007-01-12T09:50:00.000-05:00

The picture(s) to be added to this post will enhance the descriptive effect of my words. Anyway, the day after I arrived back home (I believe it all started Tuesday, but it could have been Wednesday), the snow, which I found to be my greatest enemy of the holidays, arrived. It snowed for two days without stopping. Escape was impossible even in the four wheel drive pickup truck. When the snow finally stopped, I decided to dig out the whole driveway and car parking area (I was visiting my family, it's the least I could do). I shoveled more than 2000 cubic feet of snow that day,at 8000+ feet in elevation, coming directly from a year spent at sea level. I was amazed I didn't faint or have a heart attack.

The same thing happened the next week. Another two days of snow. Another two feet of snow in the driveway (approximately. Some spots had more, some less). This time, though, I had been out in my Saturn when the snow started. Arriving home, the snow was too deep for my car to make it up the grade of the driveway, and I had to leave it sitting in the way. Luckily, it was far enough in from the road that my parents were able to pull their truck in behind it and out of the street. We tried to clear the snow away while it was still coming down, and while this might be a smart decision most other times, the snow was coming down too heavily to fix anything despite removing the at least eighteen inches of snow already accumulated. My father helped me shovel at least half of what was out there this second time.

To top it all off, it snowed again the last Friday I was in town there. Luckily, it was only a few inches, or I would have missed the last opportunity I had to meet up with my friends from back there for last/this year. At least I wasn't stuck at an airport for days at a time, trying to get somewhere for Christmas. I was, however, held hostage by the weather for six (more?) days.

Not that I'd have necessarily done anything all that interesting with the time, but it would have been an option. I did use a couple of those days to chisel off the nut holding one of the kitchen sink strainers and half fix the leak it was having. It would have been fixed entirely except the silicone sealant I tried to use was too old and did not provide a good enough seal.

Next up: Christmas

Very Far Behind

2007-01-08T21:16:00.000-05:00

I am entirely too far behind in posting. There should have been a post about spending Thanksgiving with a friend and his family, drinking a bit of beer, eating a lot of very good food, and standing in the cold rain around a fire, but I neglected to write one. There should also have been an entry about watching the Jan Svankmajer film Otesánek (See it. There's a creepy old guy with a thing for a little girl, general obsession with children, a wooden doll that comes alive, and much more), but I failed to do that too.

There would have been an entry about Children of Men back around 30 November that was to have been titled something like "The Second Coming is as a Little Black Girl" (The movie was pretty good. Our heroes: hippies, a former activist unhappy in his new corporate/government job, and people who don't use guns. The potential savior of mankind is a baby black girl. The long takes are great), but, again, I waited too long for the ideas to remain fresh.

I probably should have put something down about the Christmas formal, Toys for Tots, or my birthday nights out, but that's not happening now either. I didn't fail any of my classes in the last semester, and that's about all that'll be said about the fin de semestre.

I went home for Christmas. I intended to write a post about the snow issues, among other things, and I think I still will. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Two or three entries about my Christmas and New Year's doings are forthcoming and might even make it here before the new semester starts.

Movies

2006-11-19T21:50:00.000-05:00

There should be two reviews, or as close to reviews as I get, here. I saw Fast Food Nation on 14 November, but I just didn't feel too terribly strongly about it. Perhaps it's because I'm not the film's target audience. I know illegal immigrants are taken advantage of by people looking to lower their costs to maximize their profits. Yes, the fast food corporations turn a blind eye to the corners cut by their suppliers for the same reasons. No, letter writing is not enough when your numbers are too small to prevent an elected representative's reelection and said representative has ties to the offending parties.

Maybe this has come through observation, maybe through listening to interviews and commentary on the book of the same name. Whatever the source, it wasn't news to me when I saw it in the film. Also, the shots from the killing floor of the slaughterhouse seemed intended to shock and unsettle, but they did very little in the way of unsettling this viewer.

The unsettling bit was the mechanized nature of the operation. There was no reverence for the animal. It can't be afforded if we want meat at low, low prices. For contrast, take a look at the abattoir section of Workingman's Death. It is an entirely different experience.

On a more positive note, I felt that the performances were decent (I'll admit it, I liked Wilmer Valderrama as the hardworking illegal just trying to get by, and I love Luis Guzman on principle, just to mention two specifics), they refrained from making the people we aren't intended to like super-horrible caricatures, and it was guilty fun recognizing all of the New Belgium beers that appeared in the film without having them mentioned by name or having the bottles foregrounded (I recognized Fat Tire before it was said, you'll also see Sunshine Wheat, 1554, and Abbey Ale if my eyes didn't deceive me or miss any). Thank goodness I drank good, local beers while in Colorado, or I'd not have noticed a great attempt by (what must now be) a regional brewery to grow its brand by orders of magnitude. If those beers are stocked in your area, check them out.

Now for movie number two:

I have to agree with my friend Brandon that Casino Royale is one of the best Bond movies. As I'm writing this, I have deliberately not read his, no doubt, much better and far more professional review because I know he will have said many of the same things better, and many other things that would inevitably creep into what I'm typing now simply because I'd want to sound better than I already do. Sorry, Brandon, it's my first stop once this is posted.

At any rate, I have to admit that I have a soft spot in my heart for the original Casino Royale. It has Peter Sellers, Woody Allen, Orson Welles, David Niven, more attractive women than you can shake a stick at (I defy you to shake a stick at a greater number of attractive women than you find in this film. It is an impossibility), and much much more. It even has psychedelic prison rooms like you'd find in Modesty Blaise. I want to mention everything else in it, but that's not the intent of this section.

I was ready for the new Casino Royale to disappoint, despite having Mads Mikkelsen playing Le Chiffre. It completely overturned my expectations. The film opens on James Bond receiving double 0 status as he makes his second confirmed kill. He's not yet the always cool, smooth secret agent, as we see in grainy (I suppose I'd call it gritty) flashbacks to kill number one. Bond gets his promotion and, with a few Bond mainstays like using whatever is at hand to accomplish his goals in the way that is most embarrassing to his superiors, embarks on the primary mission of the film: to stop Le Chiffre, a banker for insurgent groups around the world, from retrieving money he lost (due to Bond's actions) in a high stakes poker game.

The plot should be simple, but complicated by character. As this is a prequel to the other James Bond movies, it focuses more on how he comes to be the superspy we encounter in the other films. We see his evolution from somewhat hotheaded to calm and poised in two and three-quarter hours.

He actually has a serious romantic interest, not just another in the line of disposable dames. This was, surprisingly or not, the part of the movie where I felt things lagged a bit. The dialogue was too on the nose and at times saccharine. I definitely think the events were necessary for the character, but the way they were portrayed seems to point to a fear that the audience wouldn't sit through the extra time needed to flesh them out.

The camera work was nice. On more than one occasion it adjusts its perspective to that of Bond (the gritty black and white of the first killing, the overexposure and blur after drinking the spiked martini).

Also interesting is the aspect of anticipation. Because this is a prequel, we know certain things must or must not happen and we wait for some to start and others to end. We've seen, at least some of, the other films, so certain twists can be almost certainly included only to further character development. I find that rather clever at the moment.

James is even sexualized as much as the women in the movie. Well, if your metric for sexualization is the amount of screen time devoted to a given character's body as eye candy. We see more of him than anyone else.

In one sentence: I'd recommend it.

Alright, it's getting late for me, considering I have to be up entirely too early for a student, and I'm not sure if that all reads well or makes sense, but it is what is there, and I doubt I'll edit it. I'm sure I'd write more thorough, professional reviews if I wasn't currently caught up in the mindset that I'd rather have an actual conversation about a movie than attempt to have one in my head and write all the answers without the interactive questioning.

I also realized I only have something like two weeks left to prepare my final assignments. Hello new home in Copley Place named Boston Public Library, and hello undue stress brought on by procrastination. It's been a little while. Glad to once again make your acquaintance, old friend.

Wolverines!

2006-10-24T23:40:00.000-04:00

I really should be asleep right now, since I have to be up at 06:00 to get to work on time, but I just can't help myself. I just finished watching Red Dawn. Yes, that Red Dawn; the one from the 80s.

It was totally awesome! I'd almost forgotten how much fun these sorts of Cold War paranoia movies could be. If I were taking American Masterworks, I would write my final on this film. It has everything: invasion of a small town in the American Rocky Mountains, heartless Soviet paratroopers, former Cuban rebels turned regulars who become disillusioned because of the, executions of civilians (a surprising number for it being a small town), high school kids as guerilla fighters, who completely upstage trained professionals, Powers Boothe, Cuban communists realising the Russians aren't really the same sort of communists, Patrick Swayze trying to act with feeling, Red China's on the side of the good ole' USA, sacrificial diversions, it just goes on and on.

Did I mention the sheer number of people killed by the Wolverines? Probably not. They're foreigners occupying our land by force of arms, not real people, so it doesn't matter. They have superior weapons and numbers? They'll underestimate the abilities of a small group of teens with hunting rifles and a former high school quarterback to lead them. Once you kill a few, take their weapons and kill more until they go back where they came from. Infiltrate their safe zones and blow things up. It doesn't matter if you're not part of the military; this is our country! Those Commies can get out or die.

I'm sure we all remember the exchange between Matt and Jed as Jed is about to execute a Russian prisoner and their fellow Wolverine, Daryl, for treason:

Matt (referring to the invaders): What makes us different from them?
Jed: We live here.

And just because it is one of the greatest lines in the history of cinema:

Lt. Col. Tanner: All that hate's gonna burn you up, kid.
Robert: Keeps me warm.

I'd totally want to be a Wolverine.

All the fun and throw back to the Cold War 80s paranoia aside, as we think about our heroes in this movie, does anyone notice what Peet McKimmie at IMDB does?

Also seriously, John Milius, Kevin Reynolds, you guys are great. All the Americana + Soviet paratroops out of nowhere = brilliance.

I Just Might end up Failing

2006-10-13T08:31:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I presented on Jean Renoir's The River for my International Masterworks class. The T.A. for the course had initially given me a DVD copy of Tsai Ming-Liang's The River, and I had toyed with the idea of being cheeky and presenting on it instead, but after I saw Renoir's film, I simply had to present on that one.

The film was horrible overall. I felt as if there were little demons inside my skull stabbing the backs of my eyes with hot needles through at least seventy percent of the film. I should probably write up some sort of coherent and intelligent rebuke of the film, but I am actively trying to forget all but the non-needle-painful bits.

Sadly, I don't remember exactly what I said during my presentation. I mentioned, extremely briefly, a little of Renoir's biography. It was brief because we had covered him in decent detail earlier in the course. I spent a little time on new research by a Canadian scholar that used F.B.I. records to find that Renoir actually had been politically active while in the U.S.A., all accounts, including his own autobiography, to the contrary. (It was actually fairly interesting for me, once I got past all the psychoanalysis [which, if you know me, you know is one of my many annoyances] and can be found here at the time of writing.)

I, then, briefly summarized a good review of the film. Well, I quite poorly summarized the review and went on to show one of the most pain-inducing clips I could think of as exemplary of the film as a whole. I followed the clips with, "Yeah..that is why this presentation will be less than scholarly. I was in physical pain while viewing this film, and I could not force myself to watch it the multiple times required to achieve critical distance." I'm a little fuzzy on the exactness of the end of that quote, but if that's not completely accurate, it's close enough. To imagine what the rest of the presentation was like, here are the notes I was using for reference while I was up there (all chapter numbers are from the Criterion DVD):

Intro: Hi, it's me and this is what I'm talking about. Why not cheeky?

Renoir: Biography in brief to River
Talk about F.B.I. stuff in Faulkner article: said wasn't politically active, but 200(+) pages of cross-listed references in F.B.I. files say differently.
Affiliated with such politically active groups as: People's Education Association (Ben Barzman lost U.S. passport for affiliation with PEA), League of American Writers, Joint Anti-Fascist Refugee Committee, Council of American-Soviet Friendship.

The River
Renoir got the idea to do River after reading a New Yorker review saying it was probably the best English language novel to come out in years and no one would probably read it.

Read good review of River, show awful clip (ch. 13)

Speak on capricious nature of "masterworks" canons. Poll audience opinion?

Explanation of why presentation is less than scholarly
Physical pain while watching scenes like example scene prevented further viewing. Lack of substantive writing where I looked.

Not all bad
Something there in a crippled American not knowing what he wants while being desired by all and breaking their hearts. India not sure where it belongs: traditional or toward the British. Know enough not to mess with dangerous things you've no experience with in a place that isn't your home.

Oases of analgesia amidst the pain a.k.a. good sequences (chs. 4[?], 9 [if you can get past the voiceover], 15)

Indian filmmakers like Satyajit Ray, among others, got their start in film working on this movie.

Showed you could make a movie in India, vaguely about India, and it didn't have to include tigers, elephants, or Bengal lancers.

Talk Derrida archive stuff from Faulkner: Despite the good bits I fully intend to actively purge majority of film from my mental archive.

Questions/Comments/Criticisms/Declarations of Vendetta?

In long-form short, if you're feeling masochistic, don't watch this film. I'll be happy to drop by and slap you around a bit or hit you with a paddle. If you're feeling more masochistic than that, I suppose you could take a look at The River.

Also, to any of you impressionable first year B.U. film studies grads, it's not a very good idea to spring this sort of thing on your professor. I'd opt for the route Devon took. It seemed much more productive.

But it was kind of fun...

Pet Peeves: an Ongoing Saga

2006-09-30T18:57:00.000-04:00

Well, today I attended the second half of the Matthias Müller conference. There were, of course, papers presented during this conference, and one of them spurred me to write a somewhat spirited bit of response. Well, not really response, but more a reaction to what I felt was a heavy part of the argument: medium specificity.

Is there actually medium specificity? Of course, painting and sculpture do a poor job of delivering music, but aside from such ridiculousness, media are far less specific than many would like.

There is nothing much more special in one medium over another. Celluloid vs. digital video, vinyl record vs. compact disc, &c. arguments over which is inherently superior in its ability to capture and communicate things have very little merit. Each has its place and use. Some register certain aspects of their subject better than their counterparts, and fail to register others as well as does the counterpart. This does not make one superior to the others except insofar as someone may desire to utilize a particular strength at a particular time.

Arguments of which should exist and which fall by the wayside, or that insist on an overall superiority of one or another, are simply intellectual masturbation. Tools are there to be used. The more tools one has in the toolchest, the greater the number of creative possibilities in one's output.

At least as far as I'm concerned.

Travelogue Day 56

2006-09-24T16:45:00.000-04:00

18/7/06

I arrive back in Boston a little before 07:00, and they've sent this plane's luggage to the wrong claim too. I notice that one of my bags feels light and have a moment of dread the though of broken wine bottles. I walk outside the terminal, and it's already just as hot at this early hour as it had been in L.A. at midday, and with more humidity. I'm not prepared for this.

I got a cab, and the driver is rather pleasant. We talk about how the people who sold the faulty product to the Big Dig should be prosecuted and the intricacies of driving now that the section of tunnel connecting to I-90 has been shut down because of the falling concrete that killed a woman. Even with the detours, the cab ride costs roughly what I expected. My apartment is pretty much how I left it. There seems to have been an issue with the plumbing. Nothing is water damaged, but dirt rings in various places around the sink indicate there's a story here. I open one bag to the smell of overexposed wine. The good news? Only one bottle was broken (shattered into tiny pieces actually). The bad news? All clothing in that suitcase was soaked in semillon and needed washing.

My other suitcase fared somewhat better. Both bottles of wine were intact, but my hair conditioner exploded through its Ziploc bag. Luckily, the fallout was contained to my coat and some socks. They are easily cleanable.

Devon got caught up in Cleveland and made it in late. We had some beers, then it was off to try to get some sleep. I'll get my mail and resupply in the next few days. I'm still depressed and whinging about leaving Australia, but I'm sure I'll get over it. I do intend to make my way back there. Hopefully that will happen while I'm still young enough to enjoy it.

Travelogue Day 55

2006-09-24T16:28:00.000-04:00

17/7/06

Miraculously, it's still 17/7. We must be traveling awfully fast to go back in time like that.

I wake and watch the parts of Ice Age 2 that I slept through. Some more video gaming, then I slipped in and out of sleep for the next hour or so. It was somewhat disappointing that they didn't have warm cloths for our freshening up this time, but breakfast came soon. It was pretty good too, French toast style bread with diced cinnamon apples, a different tasty cupcake, and more passion fruit juice.

I watched a good portion of the last half of March of the Penguins before they shut down the entertainment system for final approach to L.A. Looking out the window, I couldn't help but be depressed. Before me sprawled miles upon miles of concrete and asphalt with nary a tree to be seen. The landing was one of the smoothest I've experienced, kudos to the pilot.

The trip through customs was exceptionally quick, and we made our way to the baggage claim. Devon had been seated amidst the People to People kids, unfortunately, and I did not envy him that in the least. Especially when I heard that his monitor didn't work.

Once we got our bags (after a mix-up with where they were supposed to be), we lost Donna. She had to, literally, run to catch her next flight. A.C. was next to go. She met a friend when we got to the public area and was off. I found Mike and Devon. We went to our respective terminals to check in our luggage before making our way to the international terminal's food court.

I found myself captivated by a particularly attractive woman as we approached the international terminal, and that seemed to be the order of the day. Mike left Devon and I around 15:00 to catch his flight, and my last minute attempts to reach Robert didn't work out, so Devon and I loitered outside one of the three entrances to the international terminal. We occupied ourselves by spotting beautiful women as they made their ways into or out of the building and chatting about Australia.

It was during one of these chat breaks from girl watching that I realized why I was so depressed upon leaving Australia. I realized that I was so reluctant to leave because it felt like home feels. I had been comfortable, knew my way around passably, had met some cool people, some of whom could have turned out to be friends, &c. You always hate when you're forced to leave somewhere like that.

During another low volume of pretty passersby, we spotted Forest Whitaker going into the terminal. Surprisingly enough, it seemed like we were the only people who did. There were maybe two other people who looked like they did a double take, but that was all. We were surprised. Forest Whitaker is a fairly well known fellow.

A few hours later and it was my turn to go. I left Devon to wait the extra two hours until his flight by himself and entered terminal 4. I had some chips with queso and a margarita at Chili's. It was good to have something closer to Mexican spicing. After the meal, I had only a few minutes until boarding.

I cleared my sinuses and put in some of my eye drops for good measure; then my head went numb. I tried to catch up a little on this travelogue, but I would fall asleep mid-word like a narcoleptic, so I gave up. I fell in and out of sleep for the rest of the flight.

Travelogue Day 54

2006-09-24T16:13:00.000-04:00

17/7/06

I woke early to be sure I had actually packed and taken care of everything. I tossed out all the rubbish that was left in my room (including a good sized portion of camembert that I just couldn't eat with all the mucous production in my sinuses) and made final preparation for departure. I hope the $5 I left Pascal for my phone bill actually makes it to him and past the cleaning staff.

I left my keycard and mobile phone in the room (making sure to sanitize it of all text messages and private mobile numbers I'd picked up along the way), took my bags, and made my way to the lobby. Annabel had been there all night working on a paper, and I saw Donna in queue at the counter for breakfast. We were the only two who had gotten up early enough to get breakfast (I had tasty pancakes again). She had been up all night cleaning and packing, so she had also burned us all a mix CD of songs that reminded her of our experience on the trip. That was super nice of her, and it does capture some of my feelings too, or at least bring back memories.

Mark and Al came over to say goodbye and make sure we actually made our flight. Sarah, Sayaka, and Anna also woke up early to see us off. Sayaka took a couple of group photos before we let too. Quite nice of them.

The bus ride to the airport was fine, but the wait for ticketing was atrocious. It didn't help that I felt like my bladder was about to explode for more than half of the time. We did, however, get checked in, through security, and to our gate with plenty of time to spare. I, sadly, didn't pick up any kangaroo jerky for my dad at the airport. The only two varieties available were spicy and teriyaki, and he wouldn't eat either one.

Flying from Sydney to Auckland was everything I expected from Qantas. The lunch of BBQ chicken they served me was great and came with a tasty cupcake. This flight also let me get some, admittedly, mediocre shots of Sydney from the air. New Zealand is quite pretty from the air, with rolling green hills near the Auckland airport.

The airport wasn't bad. All we had to do was follow the signs. We lost tom and Joy here. Tom was staying for about a week (and doing the Lord of the Rings tour, the bastard), and Joy was staying a night or two before taking a roundabout way home.

things got a little scary when the flight from Auckland to L.A. was delayed because a seemingly endless stream of children (none over 13) in matching uniform (reading People to People) filed through the terminal and onto the plane. I was hoping I wouldn't be seated amidst them, and, luckily, I did not hope in vain.

The flight to L.A. was a bit different from the flight to Sydney. Our plane had not yet been upgraded with video-on-demand equipment, so we had fewer choices in entertainment. There were still six movies to choose from, we just had to wait for them to cycle back to the beginning, so I can't really complain. I also played a number of video games during the flight (Breakout clones are still fun).

The dinner on this flight was also quite good. It seemed like a sort of steamed chicken with vegetables and rice. It had a type of hummus with it as well as a packet of pretzel sticks and a roll. There was another tasty cupcake and a bit of what tasted like passion fruit juice in a little cup too. I had a cabernet sauvignon with my meal.

After dinner, I played a maze-escape game while waiting for 16 Blocks to cycle back to the beginning. It was a pretty fun game. The movie was alright too, but nothing too special (although the burglar who really wants to be a pastry chef wasn't an expected character type). I fell asleep watching Ice Age 2.

Travelogue Day 53

2006-09-24T15:20:00.000-04:00

16/7/06

The last day, and the anger and depression are not abated. Last minute packing gets taken care of (the things I won't need tomorrow morning anyway) and I do final cleaning. Picking things off the carpet by hand because you don't feel like going to the front desk to rent a vacuum (which I hear was no good at all) takes a bit more time.

I woke up with gunk on my blood-shot eyes and paranoiacally thought I had pinkeye. I went to the Broadway Medical Centre where, luckily for my pocketbook, seeing a doctor became too inconvenient. I went to the pharmacy instead where a pharmacist recommended eye drops for allergic conjunctivitis. I bought them to appease my mind and set off to breakfast. Custard danishes from Little Devil are tasty. I ran into Devon and tried to convince him to go to Bondi earlier in the day so I'd have some company. He said to check back later.

We saw Mike, who was on his way to the Broadway Cafe. I joined him, and Tom, A.C., and Donna after a while. They were planning to go to Bondi around 14:30, and I was in such a mood that I agreed to go with them. While at the Broadway, I said goodbye to Shirene. She didn't yet know if she had the job. I hope she gets it. I also tried the Mars Bar hot chocolate. It was pretty good, with pieces of candy bar and all.

I went back to Little Devil for lunch. Yes, it was a meat pie as you might suspect, and it was tasty, as always. 14:30 came, and I was tired of waiting for everyone, so I set off on my own to Bondi.

I did a bit of the cliff walk. Bondi beach is an attractive beach, and I spent some time watching the surfers before moving on. Not far down the walk I found a very nice seat on the side of a cliff. It was a concave portion of sandstone with a small bulge on the back that made it comfortable for reclining. I stayed there a while watching the waves come in before moving again.

I stopped at various points to watch the waves and eventually stayed a while at one place watching more surfers. I also saw a rather large cruise ship go by on its way to other places. Some nasty looking clouds appeared, so I started heading back home.

I passed the rest of the group on my way. They were out on some rocks, and I thought, "This looks like trouble." Needless to say, I didn't stop until I had reached my seat on the cliff where I looked over to see A.C. almost get swept away by a very large wave. They started back after that. It was getting dark.

I went back to watching the waves again, and Devon spotted me as they passed by. I said hello and creeped everyone out by just appearing like that. They went to leave, but I stayed a while longer to watch the waves. As the setting sun acted like a dimmer switch, I realized why the sea can be a peaceful place. You can put all of your sorrows into it, it's large enough to contain them, and the motion of the waves will twist and pummel them until they fall apart, leaving no trace of themselves behind.

When it was dark enough, I caught a bus back to the train station and went back to Sydney. I thought I was on a later train than the others, but when I got out at Central Station, I was ahead of them on the escalator, upping my creepiness quotient again.

A large number of us had dinner at a Lebanese restaurant in Glebe. The service left a bit to be desired, and the food was alright. Smoking the hookah afterward was much better. I didn't feel the smoke at all, and apple flavoured tobacco is pretty tasty. While we were there, another group was partaking of the hookah. They let a child that could not have been more than seven years old try it. What is wrong with these people?

We adjourned to watch The Office (American version), but found it preempted by formula one racing. Instead, we watched an episode of Arrested Development on DVD and went to sleep.

Travelogue Day 52

2006-09-24T15:08:00.001-04:00

15/7/06

What is this? Only last night I thought I would be feeling extra terrible after the beating my throat took, but it is now morning, and everything feels very much better. Oh, the wonders of spicy food and wine.

After clearing the nasty gunk from the various orifices of my head, I continued packing. I also finished the slice of carrot cake I got with my meat pies yesterday, for breakfast. As you would expect, it was rather tasty. Everything but the last-minute things, like my suit, has been packed.

Devon drops in just around noon and suggests we see if Fred is still in his room, and if so, we invite him to lunch. He was in his room, but he couldn't come to lunch as he was already meeting a friend who would later take him to the airport. We did, however, sit and chat with him about various things (the rather large cost of books in Australia, what we did and did not like about our undergraduate education, teaching styles, food). I also couldn't stop myself from coughing nearly constantly for the duration of our stay in Fred's room. It was rather embarrassing.

We left Fred's room to go to lunch, but when we hit the lobby, we ran into Tom, Mike, and Donna. Wondering what they got up to, we asked. They didn't do much as it turns out, just hanging out back in the UniLodge. We stayed there long enough to see Fred leave to meet his friend before setting out for Nando's.

Nando's is a chicken sandwich chain. They offer various Portuguese-style spiced versions of the sandwich. They spice it with peri-peri sauce (peri-peri is a chili pepper the Portuguese came across in East Africa if I recall their information correctly) to your desired level of hotness. The food is rather tasty even though it is a chain.

We continued preparing for our departure after lunch, and I realized that I was depressed that I was leaving. All of the signs were there. The bad attitude, relatively flat affect, tendency to have emo songs run through my head more than usual all tipped me off. That must mean I really like it here. But whinge as I might, I cannot change the schedule.

There was a tentative plan to find some kangaroo pizza tonight, but far too many people wanted to come along, so those plans failed before they had a chance to materialize. We still went looking, so the plan wasn't a total failure, but when we finally got to the Australian Hotel in The Rocks, seating options were not in our favor.

Despite this, we did order and eat. I had a small BBQ emu pizza and a little bit of Devon's kangaroo pie, which I traded a slice of my pizza for. Both were quite tasty, and I was surprised that the emu came as one large slice that covered all four pieces of the pizza (Anna was kind enough to cut it apart for us, since we both had our hands full). I have to say that I liked the kangaroo meat better than the emu.

After we finished, we met back up with the rest of the group (we had scattered earlier to find seating), and most of us walked back while four or so took a cab. Mike an I killed the goon. It tasted horrible; why did I drink that? We then came in on the middle of a drinking game in Donna's room. That was actually fun to watch, but I had to cut out when there was talk of going to the Lansdowne. I just didn't have it in me; too tired.

Travelogue Day 51

2006-09-24T14:46:00.000-04:00

14/7/06

I awake feeling worse than ever. I guess spending the night screaming over cover bands and running around without a sweater isn't the best thing to be doing when you're trying not to get sick.

I barely made it through class this morning. Many trips were made to clear my sinuses of various nasty things. We discussed the good and bad bits of the program as it exists this year. The only major change suggested was to have the paper for the film component due before the week of holiday. This could be a good thing, but I seriously have no complaints about this program.

We filled out course and overall program evaluations today too. I feel that I should have been more verbose, but I was feeling both very hungry and in rather poor health, so there was a distinct lack of writing done.

After a lunch of meat pies from Little Devil (why are they so tasty?), I took a little nap, and by little, I mean one half hour at the absolute maximum. I went back over to the Fusion building for a final email check (I, like an idiot, had forgotten to email Robert about setting up meeting details until this morning) and to say my goodbyes to Lauren and the others I probably wouldn't be seeing again. (Did I mention that I really don't want to leave Australia?)

Devon and I got back to the UniLodge just early enough to visit our rooms before departing for our farewell dinner with Daryl, Fred, and Greg. We went to a small Italian place located somewhere near Leichhardt(?). Daryl brought the wine, and the food was quite good. I had mussels in a spicy tomato broth that helped my throat, and whole body, feel ten times better. I also tried Marc's four cheese pizza (good) and Joy's potato and gorgonzola gnocchi (also good). For dessert, I had chocolate nougat gelato and a flat white. Alone, each was good, and together, they were doubly so.

A little more wine and we were ushered out (our group was fairly large, and their space was limited). A.C., Tom, Marc, and I waited for a cab for so long that Marc went to ask a restaurant to call one for us (it was much too far to walk, especially since we didn't know the streets we needed to take to get back). That worked out little better because someone along the line gave the cabby the wrong address, something we discovered because, as coincidence would have it, we flagged down the cab who had been called for us after he had given up at the other, wrong address.

(Side note: Greg is not only working on selling a new market targeting/analysis software program that NTF made in-house, but also writing a mockumentary about the marketing/advertising business. He told some good stories that should end up in the script)

When we got back to UniLodge, I was planning to have a relaxing night in to help me recover, but we ended up in Mike's room somehow, and I was enticed into slapping the goon. It's just as bad as it sounds. Never Have I Ever was played and much was learned about the sexual history of those in the room along with many more mundane details. After four or five slaps of the goon, Devon arrived to inform us that a party of people were embarking on a journey to see a drag show at the Imperial in Newtown.

Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Mike, Tom, A.C., Marc, Donna, Ashley, Vicky, Annabel, and others set out around 23:00. I was wearing one of Mike's hats featuring a picture of a recently hatched chick and reading "Just been laid." It was a hit, and many photos were taken. After a few mishaps with cabs and buses, we made it to the club and paid our five dollars admittance fee.

Half of our number left after the first show, they got a little uncomfortable, but Devon, Sarah, Sayaka, Vicky, Annabel, and I stayed for two more shows. The standout number of which was the performance of a song that must be titled "Everybody's Fucking but Me." The lyrics were great, and the performance fit well with them.

On the walk back home, I could tell I would have no voice tomorrow. It had been bad enough to begin with, but after an evening of yelling over the dj between drag shows, I could hear that it was dying a slow, agonizing death. Oh well, it was a rather good time.

Travelogue Day 50

2006-09-24T14:32:00.000-04:00

13/7/06

After a fitful night of sleep, I wake feeling somewhat like I'm getting sick again. This is unacceptable, but there's nothing I can do about it today.

I had pancakes at the cafe place attached to the UniLodge lobby. They were the first food I'd had since 12:00 yesterday. The only bad part about that is that my stomach had gotten used to being small, and I had to eat them rather slowly. These pancakes remain consistently good.

Daryl took us to Fox Studios and Spectrum Films this morning. It was pretty cool. Mark at Spectrum gave us a quick rundown on how their business (post-production) works. They rent out their editing services or bays to whoever would like to use them. Next door is Animal Logic (SFX) and downstairs is a place that does sound editing.

The Fox Studios lot used to be an event area somewhat equivalent to a state fair in the U.S.A. Many of the buildings are heritage listed, so much of the place looks as it did originally (or close enough).

Devon and I tagged along with Daryl and Fred to the fish market for lunch. The fish was very good. I got a seafood sampler 'n' chips, which gave me my first chance to eat octopus. It was very good with the spicing they used on it. I also had a few of the prawns that Daryl and Fred offered. Peel and eat prawns are really rather tasty too.

I had to do laundry afterward, I had accidentally squirted my clothing with prawn juice while removing some heads, before leaving to meet everyone at Cargo Bar for free gin and tonics. That turned out roughly as expected. Cargo Bar was pretty good. Most of us had celebratory cigars; min was Cuban and pretty good. The money I spent on it was partly wasted because I wasn't able to finish it.

Devon and I cut out to meet Pascal at The Clare for a beer. I only stayed for one because I was running off to meet yet other revelers at a retox pubcrawl. Still, Pascal's friends that I met were pretty cool (Richard, the dentist [he had been the dentist in Ramingining straight out of school], was a bit crazy, but a good guy nonetheless.).

I made it to the pub where the retox party was and had many meetings. Another pub and a few beers later, I was headed back to base for the night.

Travelogue Day 49

2006-09-24T14:21:00.000-04:00

12/7/06

Well, I fell asleep, so the up all night idea did not quite work. I woke around 05:00 and microwaved one of the long blacks I'd bought last night. As I sat in front of Daryl's laptop, writing a bit of my paper for Fred, I looked up and out my window to see the full moon directly in front of me. It sat just above the Grace Brothers building, and clouds were racing past, giving it an everchanging halo and semi-transparent mask. It was quite the beautiful sight.

After a little breakfast, and enough time to nuke the second long black I had from last night, I went to the Fusion building as early as I possibly could. It was virtually non-stop paper writing (with the occasional pause to interrupt everyone else who was there doing the same thing) until lunch time. Another long black and a moderately sized sandwich were on the menu. Three more hours of work on Fred's paper, and it was time for our final presentations for Greg. I, and most everyone else, ran a bit long, so we all rather rushed through some portions, but we all did rather well.

After class, it was another long black and back to work. Luckily, by 21:00 I had the paper all finished. It was celebration time.

Some calls were made and not returned (long story short version), and I hung out with Devon and Mike for a while. We separated when they went to the Lansdowne. The caffeine kept me awake even after I had determined it was far too late to be up. Around 02:00, I was entirely too tired of being awake and tired, so I decided to try to get some sleep anyway.

No sooner had I gotten into my bed then there was a banging on my door that refused to go away. It was Mike and Devon back from the Lansdowne with another tale of the random crazy people they seem to attract when they go there. This time, it was a guy who couldn't manage to form words. They dubbed him Mumbles McPhereson.

This guy followed them around the pub, mumbling at them, as they tried to lose him. When they entered the casino area, things turned even more strange. There was an old woman in there with three inches of ash on her cigarette and a short, wide Mexican who was hanging on another guy about Mike's age. Mumbles followed them there and struck up a conversation with the woman, who could understand him, apparently. Mike and Devon, then, rushed back to the UniLodge to tell everyone about it at 02:30. This made the telling slightly funnier, but led to later prank calls (that were also very funny to hear about the next day.).

Travelogue Day 48

2006-09-24T14:18:00.000-04:00

11/7/06

Another day filled with work from the time the Fusion building opened until it closed. I managed to get through my Powerpoint for Greg and get most of the associated paper completed by the end of the day. They let Devon and I continue borrowing the laptops too. Without that bit of generosity, I wouldn't have been able to finish Greg's paper by Wednesday morning.

Overall, this was a rather productive day. Now to try to stay up all night writing papers, so I can come in on time.

Travelogue Day 47

2006-09-24T14:10:00.000-04:00

10/7/06

I went into the Fusion building as early as possible, so I could actually get both of my papers and the Powerpoint presentation done as close to on time as possible. I worked on them until lunch time, then got some food.

Fusion beckoned, and I returned to work on papers and presentation again. The building closes early on Mondays though, and Greg was making himself available for final consultations, so I went to NTF. He liked my ideas and gave me a few others.

Going to NTF also put me in a good position for our later trip to the Sydney Aquarium (our meaning Devon, Sarah, Anna, and I). The bad part is that I was starting to come down with something again, so I spent far too much ($16.50) for one absinthe at Cargo Bar to counteract whatever it is before heading over to the aquarium.

Sydney Aquarium wasn't bad. I saw many fish I cannot recall having seen before. But it was a bit chilly in there since many of the larger, immersive exhibits were outside. I must say that walking in the glass-top tubes beneath the sharks, rays, groupers, &c. was very cool, even with the very annoying other people and the ones wearing too much perfume. The downside of the aquarium trip was that my back and joints felt horrible the entire time, like I'd had a night of drinking in black-out inducing volumes, despite my having gotten plenty of sleep.

After the aquarium, we got dinner on Darling Harbour. Ice Cube had just opened and offered us a "buy one get one" deal that could not be beat. The food and service were absolutely stellar, and yet, we were only set back about $25 each. I would probably go back, but I doubt I'll have the opportunity.

Travelogue Day 46

2006-09-24T14:08:00.000-04:00

9/7/06

Daryl let Devon and I borrow laptops for this weekend, so we could get our work started. That was exceptionally cool of him and allowed me to get ahead of myself, as can be seen from yesterday's entry.

I can't really recall much else from today. I should really try to keep up with writing these entries on the days they occur.

Travelogue Day 45

2006-09-24T14:06:00.000-04:00

8/7/06

I actually bought more cereal. I also got some camembert and crackers.

I also just finished transcribing my notes from the festival; w00t. It only took me roughly six hours. Now to return my DVD to blockbuster and see what everyone is doing for dinner. I didn't find anyone, so I saved money by eating my cheese and crackers. I put some of the black cherry jam on them with the cheese, and it was quite tasty.

Travelogue Day 44

2006-09-24T14:02:00.000-04:00

7/7/06

After Devon and I went to get "Illuminati" from a games shop, I watched 90% of The Illustrated Family Doctor for the second time. It was still pretty good on this viewing. Greg came down for a class (I've a lot of work to do for that), and Daryl arranged for Devon and I to borrow laptops over the weekend, so we could work diligently on our assignments. That was entirely too nice of him, and it just makes me less and less happy to be going back.

I played "Illuminati" with Devon, A.C., Mike, and Tom. It was a fun game, but the learning period was very, very slow.

Travelogue Day 43

2006-09-24T13:57:00.000-04:00

6/7/06

We had a meeting with Luke <something> at the Sydney Theatre Company's Wharf venue. He was a great speaker, informative (I took multiple pages of notes), and knowledgeable. The description of how the Sydney Opera House is trying to pull customers out from under its clients sounds so much like a man-in-the-middle attack it's not funny (S.O.H. is venue and ticket seller, it wants stronger bargaining position with the companies that use it, so it attempts to be the name the customers associate with the product [i.e. "Let's see that S.O.H. show" rather than "Let's see that S.T.C. show at the S.O.H."]).

Tonight, I sat around with everyone watching episodes of Arrested Development.

Travelogue Day 42

2006-09-24T13:54:00.000-04:00

5/7/06

I woke up not feeling hungry. I think all the alcohol and the water I had when I got back kept the food from going away. I must get to Blockbuster today since my paper is due next Wednesday. I also need to find a time when Shirene isn't working, so I can buy her a celebratory drink. Perhaps I'll wait to hear the results of the interview first.

I discovered that Blockbuster won't give me a membership because my stay ends so soon. Luckily, Mark had gotten a membership yesterday, so I was able to get my movie anyway. I wasn't able to watch it though. Both classrooms were in use for the internship kids' classes.

Travelogue Day 41

2006-09-24T13:41:00.000-04:00

4/7/06

Independence Day, w00t!

The exclamation point is a bit excessive, but it is 4th July. I finished up my Powerpoint presentation for later in the day, and went for a meat pie for lunch (I like them entirely too much, I think I have a problem). I've started customizing my blogger page in preparation for my move to only posting content there. Karl now has two small exposures.

The presentations went over pretty well. I felt I could have done much better, but it wasn't a dismal showing. I predict I scored in the B range.

After the presentations, Greg flew to Melbourne (he'll be back for class tomorrow. I don't know how he does it while recovering form the flu), and we had a three course meal at the Broadway Cafe. It was all rather good, and I put away a free bottle of wine. By the end of the night, it wasn't tasting that great, but finishing it was a matter of pride.

I also saw Shirene (I still have no idea how to spell her name) and Jess there. Unfortunately they were working, so not much conversation could be had, but Shirene had some very exciting news. She was called to interview for a special effects position on Where the Wild Things Are. It's doubly good since she hadn't approached them; they sought her out. I'll probably be boasting that I know her in the not too distant future.

She had also taken to calling me Casanova after hearing of certain events from Kim, in excruciating detail from the sound of it.

Travelogue Day 40

2006-09-24T13:37:00.000-04:00

3/7/06

I got most of my assignment for Greg done today. Luckily, I had most of my ideas fully formed (or as close as I can get to fully formed) before approaching Powerpoint, or I'd have been lost. I also discovered that Blockbuster has Family Doctor, and I have all documentation needed to become a member.

We had class at NTF on database marketing (data mining), then back to UniLodge. I watched Big Brother (how can you not with the John, Ash, Camilla scandal?), discovered the "adults only" program was scrapped, and found all the bottle shops were closed at 21:30 when I went to drown my sorrow over the loss.

I really should have done something else, but I was still a bit angry that I only have less than two weeks remaining until I fly back to the states. I'd rather be staying a bit longer; I like Australia.

Travelogue Day 39

2006-09-24T11:43:00.000-04:00

2/7/06

I lazed about most of today.

Devon introduced me to meat pies. They are entirely too tasty.

That is all.

Travelogue Day 38

2006-09-24T11:38:00.000-04:00

1/7/06

I woke early and went back to sleep. Later, I had the hot breakfast. I spent most of the day relaxing and reading Zodiac by Neal Stephenson. It's not a bad book. I also biked back to Ernest Hill to pick up a few bottles of wine.

After my goodbyes at the YHA, I made my way back toSydney and found Devon. We ran into Al at Liquorland and, a good deal later, joined him at Shell's going away party. I stayed until 04:30 in the morning.

There are pictures of Al, the building security guard, and me all wearing Shell's pink vest thanks to tonight.

Travelogue Day 37

2006-09-24T11:33:00.000-04:00

30/6/06

I went on my wine tour today. We stopped at three wineries and sampled their wines. I discovered that I'm not a chardonnay sort of fellow. I visited Ivanhoe, Pepper Creek, and McKliesh(sp?) wineries. None of their wines outshined Ernest Hill's .

I had a number of soft cheeses at the McGuigan winery that were quite good, but I kept myself from buying any. I would have bought them, but I knew I'd never be able to eat them in time. Also, dusty, the tour leader, was rather knowledgeable with a good personality for this sort of thing.

My judgment was clouded by the very attractive young lady running the tasting at Pepper Creek, and I bought a bottle of wine I already knew was mediocre.

I've had far too much wine tonight, but it was rather enjoyable.

Travelogue Day 36

2006-09-24T11:18:00.000-04:00

29/6/06

I stayed up too late and woke up early, so I fell asleep for a few minutes on the trip up. The Hunter Valley YHA is pretty nice. I took one of the bikes out and managed to visit (only) three of the nearby wineries. I sampled a number of wines, some of the standouts of which were: Ernest Hill's semillon and verdelho, Capercaille's slainte, "The Clan" cabernet sauvignon, and "The Ghillie" shiraz, and Allandale's '05 semillon and '03 Matthew shiraz. All of these are boutique wineries, so it will be unlikely I'll find their wines in any bottle shops.

Allandale also has what amounts to a white cooking wine made from pre-ripe semillon grapes called verjuice. It sounds interesting. Also, I'm told semillon ages well in the bottle, so I could probably indulge my tendencies and let it sit for years (because, realistically, when would I get another Ernest Hill semillon?).

I'll be trying the pub fare and microbrews at Potter's Brewery tonight for dinner. If the beers are like the wines, I won't be disappointed.

Everyone at the YHA is quite agreeable. Greg(?) is nice, and Tim was generous enough to share a '78 vintage port. The other guests seem a bit like me, nice enough, but you have to get past their initial apprehensiveness with new people.

I'm eating dinner at the Potter's Brewery Bistro. I got the chicken and beer kebabs. The chicken is mediocre; the Greek salad is rather good. I also got the beer sampler of this brewery's microbrews. The IPA is as to be expected. The Kolsch, lager, and bock are good. The ginger beer (alcoholic, not the root beer stuff) is very interesting. I'm saving it for last as I'm not sure how it will mix with the meal. Overall, I'd say it's worth around the $18.50 (thank you $5 voucher from YHA I paid.

Now to try to pace the eating and drinking, so I'm not too full when I leave at approximately 19:30.

I didn't succeed. I ate everything on my plate (the chicken remained mediocre at best, the chips were (average) good, and I rather liked the Greek salad). I couldn't finish the sampler. The ginger beer was just a little too not-my-style for me to drink.

Travelogue Day 35

2006-09-24T11:11:00.000-04:00

28/6/06

I took a fairly early (10:30) train back to Sydney. I would have stayed longer and bushwalked a bit, but a leather duffel bag seemed more of a hindrance than a benefit.

When I got back, I began considering changing some of my eating/shopping habits once I am back stateside. With the abundance of bakeries here, their distinctly better quality products, and my less restricted budget, I've noticed that it's not so terribly more expensive to get freshly baked products compared with the supermarket. I'll have to price out the bakeries near my apartment to see if this holds true there as well. If so, I'll be buying bread more often. Then all I'll need is a crock pot to make stews and soups while I'm out for eating with the good bread.

**Update: Most bakeries I can find near me do not have a good selection of breads. It saddens me.

Travelogue Day 34

2006-09-24T10:57:00.000-04:00

27/6/06

I ate most of the cookies I bought for dessert last night for breakfast this morning while I wrote down everything I could remember from yesterday. I'd not had blueberry cookies before. They're not bad.

I went bushwalking again today, and I'm glad to say that I was able to recognize the bush plants from yesterday. I found sasparilla right off and chewed it all day. I also found the plant with oblong leaves that don't cluster and contain tea oil(?) that is antiseptic(?) and makes what it's rubbed on smell like lemon, the grass whose base is like celery, and the white berries, though they didn't appear until I was on the forest floor.

I took the stairs down to the Fern Bower. It was beautiful. Tall trees form a canopy under which myriad ferns grow. The light was dim and dappled, but the various shades of green stood out well enough. Water trickled down from various places into small streams that cascaded over various rocks of the streambed. Bright lichens covered rocks and the bases of trees.

It was very damp, but quite lovely too. My only complaint is that the terrain didn't offer many (only one or two) opportunities to go on more adventurous walking; you have to stay on the relatively tame stairs. Sadly, I didn't get to take any photos because the light was too low to get a steady shot without a tripod.

It was at the Leura Cascades (?) that my only good opportunity for adventurous walking came about. Just to the left of the main path was what appeared to be an abandoned path that had been overgrown. I started up it, but soon came to a place where the terrain looked a bit dodgy. I wasn't willing to test it without at least one other person there who could go for help if things went wrong.

I continued on into Leura Forest. There's a nice picnic spot down there with tables and all. You have to pack your trash back out (though not everyone does, which is why I retrieved as much as I could carry. WTF is wrong with people?).

I took Dardanelles Pass from there, and that was a bit more pleasant. It seemed to have been less traveled, at least today. I had been practicing feeling everything I touched with my hands throughout my body during the whole grip, and it was at one of these practice sessions that I caught sight of a lyrebird. I could hear others, but only saw one. It was really cool because to me it seemed that one moment I was just feeling a leafy plant, and the next I was aware that there were a number of animals in the bushes immediately surrounding me. I then immediately looked at a lyrebird just far enough away that the mist from the damp air made its specific coloration indistinct.

Once I arrived at the Giant staircase, I took it back up top. The sign at the bottom said it would take 45 minutes, but it didn't take me half that. It obviously has nothing on the Manitou Incline.

Afterward, I wandered back to the YHA, showed, read a little Gracien (don't recall the accenting), and went out for dinner. I tried the Aussie interpretation of Mexican food again in the form of quesadillas. It was interesting, tasty but not Mexican. I also got a caramel milkshake. It was rather tasty but not as substantial (read thick) as I'm used to. I think they may just use chilled cream rather than ice cream in their shakes here.

I missed the Australia vs. Italy World Cup match last night. From what I hear, it was a travesty with Italy being given an unnecessary penalty in the box and a penalty kick. They scored and eliminated the Socceroos from World Cup contention.

Travelogue Day 33

2006-09-24T10:11:00.001-04:00

26/6/06

I woke up before my alarm, as I'm wont to do. I also found out that I could easily fit all that was suggested, or nearly all, on my person either in the pockets of the b.d.u.s or my coat. I brought my coat but had no cause to use it.

Stopping at the little bakery next door to the YHA, I got breakfast (a bacon and egg roll) and lunch (a ham and salad sandwich) before heading to the walkabout. Both were quite good. I ran into another guy going on the walkabout today on the platform at Faulconbridge. I've forgotten his name, but he was a pretty cool fellow. We set out in search of our guide, since we didn't see anyone on the platform and found him in the second place we looked. He picked up the third of our group, her train from Sydney had just arrived, and we started our journey.

It started with a five minute "what's your name? Where are you from? What do you do?" warm up walk to the head of our trail.

Once we left the road, I knew I would like the trip. The trail was only lightly visible, like a game trail, and the local plant life was everywhere. Not long after we began, our guide Evan started the bush tucker tasting by instructing us to pick a certain leaf and chew it while walking;; he said that his people used to chew it like chewing gum. The leaf was sasparilla, and it tasted rather good.

As we continued, he asked us to pick another leaf, eucalyptus this time, crush it in our hands, and smell it. Of course, it smelled like the surrounding forest, and not bad.

We stopped, and Evan told us about his people and what walkabout was. He first told us that the Darug people used eucalyptus to clear the sinuses and would put a crushed and rolled leaf in their nostrils. We all crushed and rolled our leaf and put it in our noses. It was cool, the eucalyptus smelled good, and my sinuses were clear. We just looked a bit odd with green leaves dangling from our nostrils.

In the old days, you spent all of your time with your clan. There were many initiation rights for both boys and girls, eleven in total (or up to sixteen if you wanted to become a clever fella), each more difficult than the last. One for boys might be to climb to the top of a tree, collect some birds' eggs, climb down, then climb back up and replace them without breaking any (this was no mean feat considering they never wore more than a, usually, small tucker bag and hair belt or opossum skin cloak in the winter).

A walkabout was a type of initiation where you would follow a particular song line (story), observing various types of fasting, to learn about your people and find out who you are. There would be elders at various points along the way to see if you were learning what you were supposed to along the way. Other than them, you did this alone because it was very important to know who you were when no one else was there. If you were unsure, you wouldn't be useful to the clan.

The old people were nomadic, following their story on a circuit around the country (we would be walking a part of one of these stories on our trip, visiting some sights that Evan had discovered and most people wouldn't see). Times could be tough back then. An ice age came and coincided with the worst drought they could remember. It was too much for the larger creatures like the three meter tall kangaroos or wombats about the size of VW beetles, but the aborigines survived to see their hardest test.

White people arrived and set up their convict colony in Sydney. They eventually spread out, clearing the forest, planting crops, raising livestock, and killing the native animals. Most of this was done while the Aborigines were elsewhere, and when they came back to the area, they didn't find wallaby or wombats but really silly looking animals with white fluff all over them. They speared one (it was a little fatty but tasted good) and the women went to dig up their yams, but instead found these tall green stalks planted in mysterious straight rows; they saw it produced a vegetable and tasted sweet corn for the first time. Well, the farmers didn't like having their sheep and corn eaten (and the Aborigines had no concept of private ownership of most things. If you or your clan had extra, you shared it with others. If you kept it, someone else would want it, and why shouldn't he have it?), so they'd shoot the Aborigines, who would spear the farmer, and so on in a downward spiral such that in 200 years, a people who had survived on this land for 40,000 years had no full-bloods left (in the case of the Darug people).

But their descendants are keeping as much of the culture alive as they can recover and remember, so there are many efforts to preserve what is found in various places (i.e. the bush, construction projects unearthing Aboriginal material) and tell their stories through guides like Evan.

when the old people walked a song line like we were about to, they did so barefoot and, therefore, quietly and carefully. They listened to what the bush had to tell them. They used their senses as independently of one another as possible. They touched everything very carefully, feeling everything touched with the hand from their little toe to the top of their heads (this wasn't such a conceptual leap for them as us because they didn't see a distinction between themselves and the bush. All was connected through the dreamtime). We were encouraged to try to do the same.

I touched many things as we walked and was surprised to find that I began feeling ferns in my head and the soft bark of a tree whose leaves were burned to keep mosquitoes at bay in my back. Evan encouraged us to keep trying to feel things in this way, and I think I might.

We continued to a rock on the bank of a stream where the spirits of that place had been made visible by being carved into the rock. We couldn't see them at first, but Evan made them appear with magic (when he said he was going to do some magic to make the spirits visible, I expected something very cheesy, but when he poured water over the rock and the carvings appeared as water settled into the grooves, it was amazing). There was a mother wallaby, a joey, a snake, and a man with a penis longer than his legs.

These carvings would be used to teach people important information. There are multiple levels to every story, and you would only be given the information at a level it was felt you were ready for. This kept dangerous knowledge away from the foolish. So, on one level, the carvings show the mother wallaby looking off at the bush, thinking it looks very tasty, while her joey has forgotten what his mother told him and is playing with a wiggly tail that belongs to a snake that is about to strike him; in other words, it tells children to not mess with snakes, that's women's business. On another level, we realize that the snake is the Rainbow Serpent and the story becomes one about spirits and the dream time. The penis of the man is hardly practical. It's too long and would drag in the dirt, get caught on thorns, and cut with razor grass. That is if he walked, but he is <I've forgotten his name, sadly>, one of the sky people who brought the lore to the people on the land. They had the great knowledge, the people of the land just applied it.

Also, every person had their own totem/spirit based on where you were conceived and born. No matter which clan your parents belonged to, you belonged to the clan win whose home territory you were born. You were not allowed to marry anyone in your clan, anyone who had your same totem, or anyone who shared your clan's totem. This helped keep the genetics strong (and was presumably part of the lore). You also weren't allowed to kill you totem or your clan's totem. In this way, if an animal was overhunted in one area, it could always recover because it was safe in another: the world's oldest conservation system.

We continued on through the forest for a while, stopping to smell the leaves of another plant that smelled very like lemon. Evan told us it had antiseptic properties, and the old people used to rub it on their skin and smell real good (they also rubbed fish oil on their skin, "It made us look sexy, but smell real bad."). We also learned that the sap that looks like blood was used as antiseptic and analgesic, even for tooth aches.

We stopped at a sandstone cave for a break and snack. Evan showed us pictures of some of the wildlife we might see on the journey and also one of the aboriginal sites he had discovered that was being kept secret. As such, we would not be going there because he had found it, amazingly, in pristine condition, with no modern graffiti, and they wanted to preserve it that way (later, he told me that the hand stencils on the walls were made by chewing a mouthful of ochre and goana fat, then placing your hand on the wall and spraying the mixture over it. This act meant you belonged to the land). He also showed us two flowers (the type I took the photos of that looks somewhat like a pine cone when dried) that act like velcro when pressed together and, when dried, requires bush fires for its seed pods to open. These pods would be used by women to carry fire from one village to another by lighting the cone on fire then blowing it out. The center would smolder but the rest of the pod would insulate the bearer's hand. The nectar from these flowers, usually only found in the ones at high altitudes like Katoomba, was used as an energy giving food. It could be squeezed from the flower directly and licked form the fingers, or the flower was boiled to make an energy tea (I must try to do this).

After the break, we were moving again. The extremely large vines told us we were in the rainforest. We continued our journey (which I enjoyed immensely as it actually felt like we were in the wilderness rather than some safe approximation) and ran into some more bush tucker along the way. This time, it was small white berries that tasted a bit like sour apple before drying out your mouth unexpectedly.

As we were making our way to a sunny cave for lunch, a rogue rock came out from under the feet of the girl in our group, and she rolled her ankle pretty badly. We ate lunch there after wrapping her ankle to see if the rest might help it feel better. It didn't, and we had to assist her out. She did amazingly well for the amount of pain she seemed to be in (Neurofen did its bit to help). At lunch, Evan pointed out another bit of bush tucker, a grass the green part of which is used to knit baskets and other things, but whose white part (near the base of the stalk) is good for eating. It was a bit tough but tasted somewhat like celery.

We took a different route out than in. It was only arguably easier. Well maybe appreciably; I'd have to walk it again to be certain. Evan pointed the two of us able bodied sorts toward a waterfall that was rather nice to photograph. We were racing the dusk as we tried to get everyone out at the slower pace, and during one of our rests, Evan gave us a quick overview of the dreamtime.

(Assuming I'm recalling correctly) In the dreamtime, there was no time as such. The Rainbow Serpent (and the eagle who was the father of the one with the giant penis?) created it when she emerged from her canyon. As she moved about, her movements made the contours of the land. She moved in a circle, linking past to present to future, so everything is happening all at the same time and has happened before. She gave her spirit to the plants, animals, people, and land. They are all connected in spirit. When you die, you may be reincarnated. If you are, it could be as any of these things. If it's as a person, and someone recognizes your spirit, they might say, "Hello great, great grandfather. How have you been?" When someone makes a new dance, they don't say they've invented it; they say they remembered it from the future. Everything is ok because all that will happen has already happened, you just have to access the dreamtime to know it (i.e. the girl's ankle is already healed; she just has to touch the dreamtime to feel it[?]).

We made it out before dark and even got the girl to her train before it left. Evan offered to do another trip for me free of charge if our schedules work out because this one was cut short.

I don't know if it'll work out, but even if it doesn't, this trip was heaps better than I would have expected. The bush walk was great, the learning about bush tucker was great, and all of the Aboriginal knowledge was super. Evan was really cool, and the walkabout was worth the money and more even with its being cut short. The whole trip would be worth it for that.

Addendum: We even heard the lyrebird sing. It has its own call, but can also mimic any other birds' calls. We didn't see one, but they're supposed to be roughly chicken sized and good bush tucker. We also learned that if you see sawdust on the ground by a tree, you find the hole, get your axe, cut a bigger hole, take your grub stick, and pull some out for good bush tucker.

Travelogue Day 32

2006-09-22T19:45:00.000-04:00

25/6/06

I've been writing all about the Dendy Awards and Thank you for Smoking on the two hour train ride to Katoomba. These trains aren't bad, but I'm not sure how I'd like to take a multi-day trip on one if I weren't in a sleeper compartment.

I'm surprised I made it to the train station early enough considering we were at the Marble bar last night after the film. At a distance, the landscape of these hills and mountains of the Blue Mountains looks quite similar to southern Ohio, but when you get closer, the differences appear. Perhaps I'll take pictures on the return trip.

I hope to make it to the YHA in a timely fashion, so I can go location and trail scouting. Then all I'll have to do is figure out how I'm going to carry everything I need for my walkabout tomorrow.

I used the area map they gave me at reception to make my way to the Prince Henry Cliff Walk. The start at Merriwa St. was rather good, and I'll have to see what lies down the stairs early on. I'm on my last set of batteries for my camera. I'll have to buy more soon unfortunately.

I did see some great views, got pictures of some of them, and saw some pretty birds. I neglected to get photos of them because I wanted to take photos on the walk tomorrow.

I also forgot my towel. We'll see how the showering goes without it.

It went ok, but I'd really rather have brought my towel.

Travelogue Day 31

2006-09-22T19:23:00.000-04:00

24/6/06

I'm awake and going to the Dendy Awards. Eight hours of shorts might be a bit much, and I want to see if I can catch the AMEX building open even though it's a Saturday, so I might have to cut out for a while to see if I can get some traveler's cheques cashed before my trip tomorrow.

I also didn't manage to catch Devon, Sarah, or Sayaka last night, so I have no clue what the plan was for last night that I was supposed to be told about as the elevator doors closed. It took probably five minutes for another elevator to arrive and take me back down, and by that time, they had fled to elsewhere. I'll never know what fun-filled enjoyment I missed while sleeping, but the sleep felt really good, so I don't really care that much.

The first three screenings of the awards contenders weren't that impressive. Girl in a Mirror, on a photographer (Carol Jerrems), won three or more of the awards, but I didn't find anything in it that impressive other than some of her featured photographs. The documentary on the fight for safe, legal abortions in Victoria wasn't something I'd pay $10 to see in a cinema, but it was good.

I skipped out after the third screening, seeing as they weren't that impressive. I found the AMEX building closed, as were many, if not all, of the banks, so we'll see if I can get rid of them later. I went back to the Awards screenings after getting lunch and finding my way around Central Station to see the only short that I really, actually enjoyed. It did not win any awards.

Carnivore Reflux is an animated short that expresses incredulousness with the number and mass of animals that meat-eating humans consume on average over the course of a lifetime. It depicts gluttonous, decadent monarchs and aristocrats who have an insatiable appetite for all manner of animal flesh. They eat tons and tons of meat. One day, their chefs come up with a special meal: a gigantic feast of meats followed by carnivore reflux. At the end of the meal, much to the guests' surprise, they vomit up every animal they've ever eaten reconstituted, whole, and alive.

This is, of course, problematic because many of them have eaten some very dangerous animals. They all come out ok though, and a little lighter. And just to show they weren't just picking on the mat eaters, they mentioned Herbivore bowel, where the same thing happens with fruits and vegetables but out the other end.

It was quite funny and well done. It deserved an award more than the documentary on refugees (which ignored practicalities of not granting every refugee immediate admission into the country [i.e. number of jobs available for their skillset, ability of social programs to cope with the new, perhaps non-contributing, people until they have a usable skillset, if it's even practical for them to get one]).

The only one of my favored films to win an award was Little Miss Sunshine, which won the audience award. It was a good film and deserved an award, but it's not Adam's Apples.

Thank you for Smoking (2006, Jason Reitman)

The closing night film came from America, and was very well done. It grabs you from the credit sequence and says, "You want to watch this film." It is partially narrated by the lead character Nick, and we are often, if not always, restricted to his level of knowledge.

Nick Naylor is the Washington lobbyist for the tobacco industry and also its best known, most killed speaker (the only person in the film who can teach him anything about spinning/selling anything is Rob Lowe's Hollywood agent character who only sleeps on Sundays). He meets with the M.O.D. squad (Merchants of Death) consisting of him, the lobbyist for gun companies, and the lobbyist for the alcohol industry.

Nick is called upon to boost sagging sales figures by going to Hollywood to get starts smoking in movies again, but before that can happen, he gives up all of his secrets to the pretty reporter he's sleeping with. She publishes her story, he loses his job, and all appears lost until his young son, to whom he is passing on all of his skills, persuades him to stop using circumstances as an excuse to feel sorry for himself and start doing his job, for himself this time. He does, starts his own consulting business, and his son wins a debate competition. They also add cellular phones, fast food, and biohazards to the M.O.D. squad.

The movie is full of choice moments (Nick's son arguing his way to join his dad on a business trip against his mother's objections, cigarettes saving Nick's life when anti-smoking terrorists try to poison him with enough nicotine patches to kill a nonsmoker). It hits everything right on time, and is a very American rise-fall-return story (we like to cheer the underdog, even when he's doing a job many find detestable).

Smaller details make for interesting comedic moments. The captain got the secret to making a great mint julep from Fidel Castro, but has only black servants like the southern plantation owners of the past.

I can see why an Aussie audience might really like this film. It paints American politics as fairly corrupt, and it's pretty much a tale of a larrikan.

Travelogue Day 30

2006-09-22T13:25:00.000-04:00

23/6/06

Only Mike, Tom, Donna, and I stayed for the whole game. The celebration afterward was interesting. People were jumping around in the street, but when the lights changed, the police ushered everyone to the sides to let traffic through. When the lights changed back, everyone was back in the street again. This happened many times.

I got no sleep as the game ended at 7:00, we had a meeting at 9:30, and I had movies to watch starting at 13:30. At least I managed to shower. I also had an omelette from the place in the lobby of the UniLodge. It was very good, but I think I prefer the pancakes.

Battle in Heaven (2005, Carlos Reygadas)

I can see how it might be controversial, what with the fairly graphic sex, but it has nothing on In the Realm of the Senses except that the sex scene between the morbidly obese male lead and his equally obese wife nearly has it beat on sheer nausea inducing ability.

The story didn't seem to go anywhere, and his killing of Ana seems to come from out of nowhere with no real motivation.

The only positive thing I can say is that the walking on the knees to the cathedral was somewhat interesting.

Into Great Silence (2005, Philip Gröning)

Another in the list of really good films I've seen at the festival.

The director, after trying to get them to let him film for 16 years, was granted permission to film the Carthusian order of Le Grand Chartreuse, but only if he did all the filming himself, used no artificial lighting sources, and lived as the monks do for the duration of his stay. The result is a striking documentary that fully accomplishes its director's intent of turning its screening venue into (an extension of) the monastery.

Because these monks have taken a vow of silence, much of the film has no sound other than what is produced by the men's movements. Consequently, the visuals must carry the film and, when they do speak, the speech and singing is that much more striking.

The camera roves about the monastery, catching the monks at whatever their work happens to be. We are also withthemm for eating, studying, worshiping, and fellowship. They have a time set aside each week, with one exception, where they all get together to walk and talk with each other.

The silence of the men helps us to notice the beauty in the shots of celery stalks stacked on a counter, the architecture of the monastery's exterior and interior, the landscape in which they live, the plants growing in their garden, the sound of a number of cows' bells as the cows graze, the play of shadow on a floor, ripples in water caused by raindrops, church service and hymn chants, hard work, and very much more.

They aren't all seriousness all the time. On one of their weekly walking sessions one winter, the monks have fun sliding down a snowy hill, while standing. They often, it would appear, jest with each other in their free speech time. Despite the print quality (I believe it was shot on video and the lack of lighting enhancements has already been mentioned), it is a very good looking film. Some of the intertitles are overused for my preferences, but that is not enough to detract from the rest of the film.

It's simply great, and I'll probably try to find it on DVD somewhere even though I'm sure I would have to watch it in complete silence in the darkness of midnight.

**As a side note, I just noticed that the Blogger spell check utility inserted a good number of typos that weren't there before, I wonder how many of my previous posts look like a dullard typed them because of this.

Travelogue Day 29

2006-09-22T13:00:00.000-04:00

22/6/06

Gravehopping (2005, Jan Cvitkovic)
As if this isn't relevant for all of the things I've written about all of these films, there are spoilers ahead, so if anyone reading this wants the full effect, don't read the spoilers (indicated by ++).

Pero is a man paid to speak at funerals. He takes his craft seriously and spends much time considering exactly what to say at each one. He lives with, presumably, his sister, nephew, father, and deaf niece (or sister, I'm not sure which). His sister has an unhealthy relationship with her husband ++(at one point he's abusing her, and Pero hits him with a chair before kicking him while he's unconscious on the floor)++. His would-be girlfriend, Renata, turns out to have some fairly significant psychological problems ++(turned on by s&m because her father beats her?)++. ++His best friend dies in a car wreck after taking vengeance for the, very, brutal rape of his lover, Pero's niece.++

This is all rather heavy, but there is a bit of levity. Pero's best friend watches cheesy old Italian sword and sandal epics, Pero ends up hanging from a flag pole while being asked questions about Independence Day by his nephew, his father is continually trying to kill himself and never seems to get it right, and the film is followed throughout by an polka-style rendition of Donna Summer's "I Will Survive."

The cinematography is also standout. There is a vertical tilt that Joseph Losey would have loved, ++and the scene where Pero's niece chooses to be buried alive with his best friend/her lover and avenger is both tragically moving and visually stunning (soil gradually covering the windows, shutting out the light, as she lovingly holds him, wrapping his arms around her as the light fades++.

The Descent (2005, Neil Marshall)

Think one part Pitch Black, a bit of Tomb Raider, and a touch of Resident Evil.

Six 'extreme sports' enthusiast women go on a girls-only adventure in a cave system. Sarah is still haunted by the memory of the car accident that killed her husband and daughter. We know bad things are about to happen every time we hear the girl's laughter, as Sarah's hallucination in the cave (very DOOM 3).

The cave has a collapse, and we find out that they aren't in the cave system they'd planned to enter. Juno has taken them to a recently discovered system, unmapped, and they have to find their way out. After a good bit of arguing, they find some old cave paintings and climbing gear, discovering there is another way out. As they search for the other opening, a couple of accidents occur that leads to their discovery of a subterranean, carnivorous, humanoid creature that kills the injured member of the party. It, in turn, is killed by Juno, as is a second creature and, accidentally, another of the women in the party. The remaining living women are scattered.

Sarah, after having to finish off her friend that wasn't quite dead when Juno left her, becomes creature killing machine number two, striking many a pose similar to the ones we saw Mila Jovovich or Summer Glau take in the Resident Evil series or Serenity respectively.

We discover that the creatures hunt by sound like bats, and this is exploited by both killing machines. Eventually, only Juno and Sarah are left. Sarah was previously shown that Juno had been sleeping with her husband before he'd died, and wounds her, leaving her to die. But Sarah, too, ends up trapped in the cave hallucinating her dead daughter.

I don't see how this film got so much critical praise. Sure it features an entirely female case, none of whom end up unclothed, and everyone dies in the end, but other than these things, it's pretty standard horror stuff. There are, however, some very good shots (especially Sarah's escape from the cave).

A number of us went out to the Agincourt to watch the Australia vs. Croatia World Cup match...

Travelogue Day 28

2006-09-22T12:49:00.000-04:00

21/6/06

Something Like Happiness (2005, Bohdan Sláma)

From a depressed town, a man leave for America. His friend Tonik, girlfriend Monika, and their families remain behind, though he does promise to send for Monika once that becomes possible. Her friend Dasha seems ok, but when her lover doesn't leave his wife on her timetable, she goes a bit crazy and is committed.

Monika takes in the kids, missing her first opportunity to go to America because she refuses to send the kids to a foster home. Her father doesn't really mind, he likes Tonik more anyhow, but her mother is furious that she would squander this chance to escape and kicks her out.

She and the kids move in with Tonik and his aunt. For a time, they are a happy family, making improvements on the house and playing with the children. We forget about the boys' psychotic mother until she returns to ruin everyone's time by unceremoniously removing the boys from the younger one's birthday party, insulting her old friends all the while.

Tonik confesses his love for Monika, and she reciprocates, but she refuses him in the end out of loyalty(?) to their shared friend in America. Tonic encourages her to go and, as his aunt is dying, sells the house. Monika doesn't go and comes back to the house only to find it being demolished and Tonik disappeared.

The closest to happiness any of them came was during that pseudo-family time at the house. No one is happy otherwise, even when they have what they wanted (Dasha and her man). Monika seems to return so she can reconstruct that pseudo-family as a real one with Tonik, but she decided too late. He's gone away, perhaps never to return, and she only has the memory of something that almost was happiness for her.

Travelogue Day 27

2006-08-19T18:22:00.000-04:00

20/6/06

The President's Last Bang (2005, Sang-soo Im)

Slow to start, but pretty good once it hits its pace. Based upon the actual assassination of the South Korean president in 1979.

The defense minister, tired of the way things were being run and desiring real democracy rather than its imitation under what amounts to a military dictator, rallies his men in the K.C.I.A. and kills the president. The only problem is that all of the cabinet don't welcome the absence of the president in the way he expected. The coup d'etat fails and the conspirators are killed.

The film questions whether their actions, though perhaps necessary, were honourable. It also shows how disorganized such an event most likely always is.

Ahlaam (2005, Mohamed Al-Daradji)

Filmed during the active fighting of the U.S. invasion of Baghdad and its aftermath. Many elements feel as if the actors were inserted amongst them rather than being created for the film (i.e. at times it seems like the cast and crew sought out places where people were looting or there was gunfire in the streets and got the cameras out to film a scene).

We are introduced to the characters on the eve of America's "shock and awe" campaign in Baghdad, then shown how they got where they are in the mental hospital. Ali was a reluctant soldier in the Iraqi army who was sent to the asylum with his ear cut off for desertion though he was only trying to carry a friend to medics while shell shocked. Dr. Mehdi is dedicated and only wants to be a doctor to help people. Ahlaam has her fiance stolen away by Saddam's secret police on their wedding day and is hit in the head with a rifle butt, leading to her being placed in the asylum because of delusions.

A U.S. bomb breaches the asylum and the patients escape as the looters plunder. The madness from within the hospital seems to seep out into the surrounding area as we see Dr. Mehdi and Ali, who the doctor realizes isn't actually crazy, try to round up all the patients and return them to the hospital. Ahlaam searches for her fiance and is victimized by a group of looters before Ali finds her.

A sniper opens fire on the crowded street and Ahlaam flees into an abandoned building just as her parents and Dr. Mehdi catch sight of her. The Americans arrive on the scene and form up in front of the only visible entrance to the building Ahlaam went inside. Neither the Americans nor Ahlaam's family have interpreters, so they cannot explain the situation and are prevented from entering the building by the soldiers who know nothing of the customs of the country and take the family's behaviour as threatening.

Everyone recognized as good and bad. Lack of communication, and therefore understanding, is one of the biggest problems for the U.S. forces. The scenes with Ahlaam wandering in the dark are much more frightening and unnerving than what many other movies accomplish when they have bigger budgets and that is their whole point.

Frozen Days (2006, Danny Lerner)

This is the director's debut feature and was shot for $25,000. It was made because he wanted to prove that a quality film can be made on a tiny budget and because he likes psychological dramas. No one was paid, cast or crew, it was everyone's first feature, and they just liked the script. After the film won the Haifa(sp?) award, and its cash prize, everyone actually got paid.

It's a little bit of Jacob's Ladder. A girl who lives in vacant apartments and sells narcotics to get by meets a man she's been chatting with on the internet only to have him, presumably, lost in a suicide bombing at the nightclub where they were to meet. She takes over his life in the interim and finds that everyone takes her to be the him though he is in the hospital in a coma and covered head-to-toe in bandages. Only at the very end does she realize that things aren't the way she thought they were.

Some of the cinematography was good, and the actress was quite good (aside from her being exceptionally beautiful).

I met with Debs to finalize my travel plans today.

On my walk back from the films today, I ran into Mark and Pascal. They invited me out for a beer at the Broadway Cafe, which led to many meetings. Jerry, who was behind the bar this evening, told me about the play she was working on writing (I think she titled it The Animals, but I'm not entirely certain). After Mark and Pascal left, I went with a number of the Broadway staff members to the Lansdowne for even more meeting people. Surprisingly, I seem to remember most of everyone's names despite a glut of drink.

Travelogue Day 26

2006-08-19T17:48:00.000-04:00

19/6/06

I finally did laundry, but I didn't drop in to see Debbie and finalize my travel plans. I'll send an email later. I missed the to-do with the Australia-Brazil game. I shamefully fell asleep on the couch while waiting for the time to go out. Perhaps I'll be in town for the match vs. Croatia.

A Perfect Day (2005, Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige)

A day in the life of Malek. He is still asleep as his mother tries to get him to postpone an appointment, but when he wakes, he insists on keeping it. The appointment is with a lawyer to have his father, who disappeared 15 years earlier during the war, declared dead.

while his mother reaches out to him in her anguish, he ignores her telephone calls because he is too occupied with trying to reignite the passion with his ex-girlfriend. He keeps after her until, after he follows her into a nightclub and his narcolepsy overtakes him, they kiss and leave the club for a romantic interlude. Before the interlude, she realizes it won't be any different from any other time and flees the car.

We see the world through her eyes during part of the drive, and when Malek puts her contacts in, he sees the world through her eyes too. These are two quite beautiful sequences of the headlights of passing cars, streetlights, and signs as balls of light moving about the screen. He falls asleep at the beach, again, then sprints along in stops and starts (like his breathing while asleep) (this part is accompanied by very nice shots of the beach area and a flock of birds in flight).

I liked it, though I'm still not entirely sure why yet.

Travelogue Day 25

2006-08-19T17:33:00.000-04:00

18/6/06

River Queen (2005, Vincent Ward)

Reminds me a bit of Dances with Wolves.

An Irish (already a subjugated people) woman, Sarah, has a child with a Maori which is taken by its Maori grandfather when Sarah's father tries to clear a Maori sacred site. She searches for him in vain until a native tracker, the brother of her child's father and also spy for the other side, reintroduces her to him in return for her healing the chief of the native resistance. When she does this, the chief makes her (or at least calls her) a queen.

Her son will not go back to become a European, and, after much to do and the death of the character Private Doyle (who recognizes that the "Maori are just like the Irish" but with darker skin), she decides that it is more important to be a family with her boy and his uncle than be European alone. She melts in to the surrounding community with her family , and they survive and thrive through the rest of the Maori wars.

The visuals are great, the story is fairly familiar.

The director's Q&A was rather informative. In the Maori wars, the Maori were able to fight so long despite being out manned and out gunned because they were tenacious fighters, brilliant strategists, and had more advanced arms provided by American whalers.

the film's story is loosely inspired by a few real stories. A man's daughter was taken for his having put a road through sacred land, and, when she was later found, she had forgotten ever being European. A Red Cross nurse treated Maori on the other side and kept it secret for 20 years because it was a treasonous act. From the further commentary by the director, it seems much of the Maori chief's actions in the film were based on stories of the old chiefs.

Le Samourai (1967, Jean-Pierre Melville)

From what I hear, this isn't a bad introduction to Melville.

It definitely has a French New Wave feel to it with the handheld cameras at certain times. Alain Delon's virtually silent assassin is good, as is the entire film.

The assassin kills a man, is picked up by the police, but he has constructed a good alibi. His employers try to kill him as the police keep after him for the murder. He kills the head of the contracting organization, then sets himself up to be killed rather than fulfill his last contract.

This is supposedly the inspiration behind Ghost Dog and The Professional among others.

Travelogue Day 24

2006-08-19T17:13:00.000-04:00

17/6/06

Burke & Wills (2005, Oliver Torr and Matthew Zeremis)

A portrait of two young men: Burke, who begins the film as a somewhat aloof but mostly ok guy, and wills, a layabout. Wills is forced to move out of his girlfriend's house by her mother and moves in with Burke.

Burke is quiet as Wills talks about his life, dreams, and ideas. He responds only in limited exchanges and does the same at his job. Wills finds a job (after a great interview scene) and starts to get himself together as he tries to reunite with his girlfriend.

Burke, who we can tell is schizophrenic if we know the signs, does well until his grandmother dies. This triggers the more severe symptoms and his consequent devolution that culminates in his rape of Wills' girlfriend and suicide. Wills finds him after these events are relayed to him by her, sees Burke bleeding, and leaves him to die.

The early parts of the film can be quite humourous, while the later bits are rather twisting. They did very well at showing that schizophrenics aren't always symptomatic and that those symptoms, once evident, can be pretty terrible; also that they can be set off by any significant stressor.

I saw the man who performed the music for the film perform at the Statement Lounge between films. He was alright, and some of the songs had rather clever lyrics.

No. 2 (2006, Toa Fraser)

A grandmother's desire to name a successor before her death leads to a party that reunites a family at odds.

After much turmoil, the party goes off. Rather than just her grandchildren, Nana Maria, gets a party with her children, grandchildren and their boy/girl friends, and great grandchildren. They manage, after much frustration and effort, to all come together and have a good time and feast just like the parties Nana Maria remembers from her youth.

Devon puts this in the category of "ethnic family coming together for significant event and dealing with various problems because of it" (think My Big Fat Greek Wedding). While I don't agree completely, it does quickly become clear where the movie is most likely going next.

Travelogue Day 23

2006-08-19T16:55:00.000-04:00

16/6/06

Saw Debbie at Backpacker's world about my trip. I got information and will finalize my plans on Monday.

Perhaps Love (2005, Peter Ho-Sun Chan)

Love triangle set in a circus, very Moulin Rouge. I didn't really like that either. A little too clever with the film within a film idea. Memory likened to film and the film brings up ideas of rearranging memory like a film is rearranged in editing.

The film within the film is the main story, leading to confusion between what is reality in the film and what's film in the film that in another place might have been better, but here comes off as trying to be too clever. Some of the CG work was clever in a good way, but a bit overdone. The spectacle was definitely there, but it's perhaps just not my thing.

The director's Q&A afterward was much more rewarding. He talked mostly about the state of the film industry in China.

Problems with cinema attendance in China are due to price (seeing 10 movies per year is easily one month's wages in mainland China), poor quality films, and piracy (enabling people to watch good movies at home rather than pay excessive amounts of money to see bad ones). The choice to make Perhaps Love a musical, and therefore big, was an attempt to use spectacle to bring people into the cinemas.

The top five films in China can make 100 million <Chinese currency>, number six is lucky to get five million. This leads to conflicts within directors similar to the one faced by the film's director character: a lot of pressure to make very big movies to get people in cinema seats.

Pusher II: With Blood on my Hands (2004, Nicolas Winding Refn)

A worthy successor of Pusher. It follows Tonny as he gets out of prison after Frank beat him with a bat in the first film. He gets out owing money, and his dad won't give him any work in his criminal organization because Tonny is notoriously unreliable.

He does some jobs, some poorly (stealing a Ferari without an order), some well (stealing a showroom full of BMWs), finds out he has a kid, fails to kill his father's new wife, and runs off with his kid into the unknown.

More character development than Pusher and less violence. Rather good.

The Bet (2006, Mark Lee)

A fairly standard tale of the pitfalls of greed and gambling, and how rich, upperclass people are evil.

The actors were very good despite the material they had to work with, and Matthew Newton has a potential future in showbusiness if for nothing else than that he looks like a movie star.

The shots of the city were good, but overused. It seemed as if they had gotten money from the city of Sydney to finance the film and were required to put a certain number of shots of the city into the movie in return.

Travelogue Day 22

2006-08-19T16:41:00.000-04:00

15/6/06

Little Miss Sunshine (2006, Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris)

Family coming together, learning to embrace differences.

Alan Arkin's grandpa is the highlight of the film. Greg Kinnear's character is an aspiring self-help guru, but no one wants to buy his nine steps to being a winner. The son can't stand the antics of the family and takes a vow of silence until he enters the Air Force Academy. Steve Carell is uncle Frank, the foremost Proust scholar in America who tried to kill himself after his grad student lover ran off with his rival. Olive, the daughter obsessed with winning the Little Miss Sunshine beauty pageant. Toni Collette is the mother trying to hold them all together.

Everything is great, but towards the end of the film, many of the jokes are easily foreseen. Despite this they pull it off

Footy Chicks (2006, Rebecca Barry)

Mediocre at best examination of the world of footy groupies. Most know what they're getting into, and all of them seem to dislike most of it but continue to keep themselves in that world.

The highlight of the film is Jane, an 80 year old footy fan who makes needle-point, tapestries, and poetry about the players. She particularly likes the players' muscular legs and bums. Her screen time is the only enjoyable aspect of the film.

Travelogue Day 21

2006-08-05T18:00:00.000-04:00

14/6/06

Workingman's Death (2005, Michael Glawogger)

A fairly intimate portrait of manual laborers in five different places and professions (coal miners in the Ukraine, sulfur harvesters in Indonesia, abattoir workers in Nigeria, shipwreckers in Pakistan, and steel workers in China) that documents the death of very hard manual labor in the modern world.

We see how difficult coal mining used to be everywhere while following Ukrainian men into mines only tall enough to crawl through. The government abandoned the mines like these men, former government miners, and this is the only way they can survive. Seeing them eat their lunches in such confined quarters is interesting to say the least.

It is likewise hard for the sulfur harvesters in Indonesia. They brave volcanic gases on the mountainside to carry upwards of 115 kilograms of sulfur down the mountain to sell. On the way they walk through tourists and school groups who pose as sulfur harvesters for souvenir pictures. One harvester uses molten sulfur to make small sculptures he sells to the tourists on his way down the mountain.

The Nigerian abattoir is all out-door and highly specialized. There are the slaughterers, roasters (roasting whole animals, skin on and ungutted, something new to me), skinners, carvers, and those who carry the fresh skinned meat to waiting vehicles. A young boy even sells fresh water by the bottle to the workers. This landscape seems the most Hellish. Everything is blackened, often covered in gore, discarded animal parts, and enshrouded in acrid smoke.

The Pakistani shipmen work around the clock to cut apart old, large seafaring vessels. They cut them apart by hand, using a large winching system to pull these large sections onto the sore for further disassembly. The conditions are harsh, and workers face death many times daily (especially with their general lack of safety gear).

Chinese steel workers mention how things are changing. They still toil in harsh, dangerous conditions, but modernization is slowly changing that, new works are going up, and the older workers say they aren't likely to press their children into their line of work.

Every group of these workers express their happiness to have their jobs at the same time they lament the difficulty of the work. In the end, however, they ignore the hardships and carry on as does everyone else.

It is in the epilogue that the point the film wishes to make comes home. By showing a German steel plant that has been decommissioned and turned into a public park of sorts, the film seems to celebrate the march of modernity and its ability to eliminate the need for people to do such dangerous work by mechanizing it.

It seems to be a celebration, but should it be a lament?

Girl Shy (1924, Fred C. Newmeyer and Sam Taylor)

My first Harold Lloyd film is viewed (nearly) appropriately: in the picture palace that is the Sydney State Theatre and with live musical accompaniment (I say "nearly" because there are three musicians rather than a full orchestra).

The tale of a poor young man so afraid of girls he stutters uncontrollably whenever they're around who finds love with a rich young woman when he saves her dog from being left behind on the train one day.

Mishaps occur, as you would expect in a 1920s comedy. He is only able to talk to her about his book (a fictional tale of his exploits at love), and he wins her over. However, when he finds that he really won't be getting it published, he puts her off because he things he won't be good enough for her as only a poor tailor's assistant.

Luckily, he gets an advance cheque from the publisher (because they decided to go with his book) and finds out the man his girl is to marry is already married. This sets off a Grand Theft Auto style sequence (with Harold stealing cars, motorcycles, a horse and cart, and a streetcar) of Harold's rush to rescue his sweetheart, culminating in his theft of the bride and proposal.

Thoroughly enjoyable.

Travelogue Day 20

2006-08-05T17:33:00.000-04:00

13/6/06

La Moustache (2005, Emmanuel Carrère)

Time as Möbius strip?

Is he crazy or is everyone else? Perhaps he is trapped in an alternate past or future and has to find his way back? If time is a river, all the time spent on ferries to various places an attempt to find his way back to the river he knows? (Shaving off his moustache left him unanchored to his time and space. This drifting the reason why everything gets more different with increasing rapidity until he abandons his river/timeline to find another?)

I also attended a forum entitled "Where are the stories of Islamic people on our screens?" Thpanelel and audience managed to conclude (well, I concluded from their statements and comments) the following:

1. The lack of Islamic stories on screens is not due to an anti-Muslim/Arab attitude in the industry itself, but the audiences often fall victim to governmental anti-Muslim rhetoric.

2. There is a dearth of trained people within the Muslim communities. Also, industries like the media industries are often considered haram and, therefore, something to be avoided by observant Muslims.

3. Stories of Islamic people will continue to be placed in poor time slots, if they are seen at all, until they are told in a more engaging manner that can draw in the laymen as well as the already converted.

4. Islamic/Arabic filmmakers have trouble getting work for the same reasons other people have difficulty: those who fund films demand high return on their investment, so they are more likely to back established directors, known plot formulae, and are very risk averse.

The best comment of the evening came from a Muslim man in the audience who works in advertising (if I recall correctly) who said that the current productions, despite being good productions and doing their part, are like a webpage where the links lead to nowhere. They do not link back to the greater Australian or white Western culture, and without this, they have little chance of being seen by a greater audience on mainstream TV.

Travelogue Day 19

2006-08-05T12:50:00.000-04:00

12/6/06

Pusher (1996, Nicolas Winding Refn)

Low budget crime film. Well done overall with no discernable "good guy." Frank pushes dope for Milo, trys to start something on the side, but every time something goes wrong. Radovan, Milo's enforcer, is sent to collect the money Frank owes Milo. Torture, escape, then Frank is offered a chance at redemption. Plenty of good times, blood, and drugs. It was also interesting to see Mads Mikkelson in a role quite different from Ivan in Adam's Apples.

House of Sand (2005, Andrucha Waddington)

The visuals are outstanding. The dunes, the sky, the sea, all are striking.

The story, however, was not so great for me. A group of people go into the dunes in Brazil to set up a settlement. The women in the group are very unhappy with the frontier and help along their own desertion and the death of Aurea's husband. They try to survive with the help of runaway slaves as she has a daughter and misses verious chances to go back to civilization until she finds happiness out there.

Why her daughter, Maria, is so intent on going to the city, I don't know. I suppose there is some sort of commentary here about the detrimental effects on women of being under the control of men (a man essentially forces them out there in the first place and it is a man's (in)actions that keep them there). But Aurea's mother likes it out in the dunes because, "No man can tell me what to do."

Starfish Hotel (2006, John Williams)

Seems to be heavily influenced by In the Mouth of Madness and David Lynch films.

A man, who is a fan of a certain author's mystery novels, has his wife go missing the day after he meets a man dressed as Mr. Trickster, a large and rather sickly/homicidal looking rabbit, who is promoting the author's new book. The man has dreams about places the author frequents and also, presumably, what is referred to in the novels as the "Darkland."

The man's tale seems to be narrated by the author as it sounds ever increasingly like the descriptions he is giving of his next to-be-published novel. Mr. Trickster makes further appearances to give omniscient knowledge to the man and perform the actions necessary to carry him to the end of the tale. Mr. Trickster, however, proves himself as tricky as his namesake.

The visuals in the dream sequences (Darkland?) reminiscent of Lynch and often in richer colour than the other sections. Despite its similarities to Western films and their style, there is something very Japanese about the film (especially in the bits to do with the other woman at the Starfish Hotel, but all pervasive).

It's days later, and I still don't have a full handle on it, which means it's probably quite good, my having liked it notwithstanding.

Travelogue Day 18

2006-07-31T11:39:00.000-04:00

11/6/06

Adam's Apples (2005, Anders Thomas Jensen)

Opens with a long shot of a lone bus in a landscape of wheat fields. The bus stops in the middle of nowhere to let off a lone passenger, adam. As the bus pulls away, he scratches the paint with a pocket knife. He's left standing until a van pulls up, and we have the feeling this film will be quite heavy. It is, but how surprised are we when it turns out to also be hilarious?

How could it not be with the cast of characters? Ivan, the priest who indefatigably sees the best in everything; Khalid, the Saudi who robs Statoil stations to set right his father's loss of land to a multinational oil company; Gunnar, the former tennis star who went bad and alcoholic when he had one fatefull ball called out when it was in; and, of course, Adam, the "evil" neo-Nazi intent on thrusting them all into the world as he knows it.

Everyone has to accomplish a self-set goal before leaving the church/half-way house, and Adam's is to bake a pie with apples from the church's apple tree. The only trouble is that every time he tries pulling the church residents toward his world, the baking of the pie becomes more and more difficult. The humor is often created in the overcoming each of these hardhsips all the way through to a rather pleasing ending.

This is probably going to be my favourite film of the festival

Ra Choi (2005, Michael Frank)

Not much different from other films of a similar subject. A guy goes to jail for stealing and dealing to get by squatting on the street but realizes the error of his ways. He isn't given a chance because he's an ex-con, and he falls back into his old ways. Squatter kids going what they have to do to keep up their heroin habit (hooking, stealing, dealing). Of course, the one with a kid steals from the kid. One of the squatter girls dies, which prompts another to quit. The young boy turns gay, then tranny, prostitute to keep his habit (and continues even after a gang rape). Yes, it's bad, but not a new tale. The differences: it's in Sydney, and they're Vietnamese.

The Director says the film is supposed to highlight racism in Aussie policing too (3 Vietnamese kids = gang, 3 white kids = 3 white kids), but I didn't really see much of that.

Travelogue Day 17

2006-07-27T19:08:00.000-04:00

10/6/06

The Balanda and the Bark Canoes

Balanda translates to white man in the Aboriginal languages of Arnhem Land. This film is a documentary on the making of Ten Canoes and what it meant to the people in Arnhem Land.

Ten Canoes acted as a very important event for the peoples of Arnhem Land and Murwangi. They had lost many of their cultureal traditions over the years, and this was seen as a way to relearn some of them and as a document to pass down to the next generation, something concrete they can point to when the balanda ask "where is your culture?"

There were many projects for the people in that area named by different numbers of canoes (ten = the film, eleven = video production training for the children of the area, twelve = community website, &c. for a book and other things).

Aboriginal languages are more than just structurally different from English. For example, English is hierarchical and full of classification where Aboriginal languages emphasize a oneness in everything. Also, if I recall correctly, there are no personal posessive pronouns in Aboriginal languages, but there are 16 different words for 'we.'

Favela Rising

What began as a quite engaging documentary about the sad state of affairs in the favelas on the hills surrounding Rio de Janeiro and one man's attempts to make things better/stop the unending violence ended in catastrophe when the projection equipment refused to function properly. A great disappointment considering the film's potential. I'll have to try to get this on Netflix.

Solo

Barrett, the gangster who has lost his taste for his job, turns over a new leaf (the Aussie Larrikin?).

The timing changes on transition pans is interesting, but feels out of place at times. Some of the moving from section to section felt a little too quick.

Barrett is interested in jazz, has a hooker for a girlfriend, killer with morals; his life comes full circle. Rampant police corruption a return to the old bushranger film's depiction of cops?

The question and answer with the actors and director after the screening was rather entertaining. This film was the winner of Project Greenlight Australia.

Travelogue Day 16

2006-07-27T18:05:00.000-04:00

9/6/06

I still haven't booked my travel for my week's holiday. I need to get on that before the festival makes me forget it entirely.

I made myself look terrible with my performance on this morning's quiz. I hope to fix my image after that. We saw Look Both Ways today. It was rather good, instructed us to remember to look at things from a perspective outside our normal approach.

Opening night of the festival. Ten Canoes and a fancy party are in store. Perhaps I'll actually mingle, maybe even do it well.

We got ourselves all dressed up and headed down to the State Theatre. A.C., Joy, Marc, and Donna went to dinner somewhere expensive while Mike, Tom, Devon, and I didn't. Instead, we got to the theatre early and walked down the blue carpet, having our pictures taken as we made our way to our seats.

Ten Canoes (2006, Rolf De Heer)

Stories being told in three different times all about origins and the past. The story of "our people." Good story. Present = colour, past = black and white, distant past = colour, all = one big cycle (present is past is ancient all at the same time) for Aborigines(?)

After the screening, we (the entire film studies crew including Daryl, Fred, and Greg) went to the party at the Argyle in the Rocks. The bus I was on made a wrong turn, so those of us on it got to take one round trip across the harbour bridge before arriving. The venue was pretty good. It had five interconnected areas, each with its own feel. I tended toward the cellar area because the cover band above just wasn't my thing.

Beer and wine flowed constantly until they tossed us out, as did the food. Trays of tasty things were circulating throughout the night. Various wraps, miniature meat pies, fried prawns, fish and chips boxes, and much more were to be had.

I did a little mingling and ran into various people. Paul Burns said hello, and I spoke with many of the Ten Canoes cast members in attendance that night. Richard Birrinbirrin was a very nice fellow, and we spoke of what he was doing now. Jamie and David Gulpilil were both rather nice as well. I met David's daughter Toni (not sure if that's how she spells it) and ex-wife too. Toni had a few suggestions for good clubs to seek out, and I probably spent too much time talking with her.

We also ran into Rolf De Heer. He and I seem to lean the same direction with regard to American politics, and he gave Devon, Greg, and I (the other kids had run off in excitement after Daryl had played a little joke on them by saying he'd heard Johnny Depp was in attendance) the story of how Ten Canoes got made.

The night wore on, and they tossed us out around 02:30. We film studies kids were hoping to catch a last minute bus back to the UniLodge (walking a few kilometers in fancy shoes is not a pleasant prospect) from Circular Quay when we ran into Fred again. We had thought he was walking back (he and his wife had walked all the way across Spain a year or two before, so this wasn't unthinkable even with the fancy shoes), but he didn't like the prospect of walking that far in dress shoes any more than we.

The group of us started to walk in the direction of UniLodge while trying to hail a couple of cabs. This didn't work out too well, but we did get one eventually. We got everyone but Fred, Devon, and I in the first cab, and we expected a second cab would not be too far away. Little did we know that the cab drivers that night would be so fickle. At least two just drove off without a word after hearing our intended destination. We were saved by some of the internship kids who had been at a pub near where we were hailing taxis. They had managed to stop two, if I recall correctly, and had us along.

Travelogue Day 15

2006-07-27T17:50:00.000-04:00

8/6/06

Saw Better than Sex and Lantana in class today. Better than Sex is a rare sort of thing, a "chick movie" that I actually enjoyed. Lantana looks at the dynamics of marriage and family, among other things (lantana itself is a lot like kudzu in the southeastern US, a foreign plant brought in that has now run rampant and is taking over, still not sure what that is saying), and it was better than I remember it having been.

We were given our first assignment for Greg this evening. We are to plan the online portion of a promotional program for a fictional theatre company. It promises to be fun.

Devon and I killed two-thirds to three-quarters of a bottle of absinth this evening. We then went out for beers because, well, that much absinth only feels like three to four beers until you get other alcohol in you. I don't intend to repeat this.

Travelogue Day 14

2006-07-25T13:30:00.000-04:00

7/6/06

Devon and I watched Alvin Purple. It was a great '60s sex romp. Alvin is irresistable to women from the time he's sixteen, and that sets up a film that is unafraid of nudity and full of double entendre. How can you not like it, especially when it even has a car chase, sky diving, a transvestite surprise, crazy psychiatrists, a psychadelic sex room, and nuns? That's right, nuns. Highly recommended.

We had our first class at Greg's offices in Darling Harbour today. They're in a rather swank location, and his meeting room even comes with a terrace. On that terrace: a barbecue grill.

The group split as we went to get some dinner. The males went looking for something affordable on the harbour, but when that took a while, I left them and got pizza in Glebe from Lavera. It was pretty good but not T Anthony's. It was also a good decision to not continue the search on the harbour because I'm told the food they did find wasn't up to expectations.

Travelogue Day 13

2006-07-25T13:19:00.000-04:00

6/6/06

Finished the lecture on Australian film to present and watched The Castle in class today. Clips from Alvin Purple make it look very entertaining too. Lynden Barber, artistic director for the Sydney Film Festival, came in to talk to us today as well. He was rather interesting and many of his festival picks were already on my screening list.

Later, we watched Candy at the Dendy theater in Newtown. The Dendy cinemas are very comfortable, well put together. The movie was alright. I, of course, disliked te covers of "Song to the Siren" they used. It also ran a bit long for my tastes. I would have had it end when Dan came home to find Candy gone and their story written on the walls. Everything else was ok, but it didn't put me off heroin like Requiem for a Dream.

After the absinth last night, I awoke feeling like a million dollars. I did, however, wake a few times during the night whispering something I believe must have been about whatever I was dreaming at the time. I'm hoping for a repreat performance tonight. Well, not the whispering bit, but if I wake tomorrow feeling as much better than today as I did this morning with regard to yesterday, I'll be well and rather pleased.

Travelogue Day 12

2006-07-24T23:08:00.000-04:00

5/6/06

I'm still sick. Damnit! If all indications are correct, I'm doing alright. It should pass in the next few days. I hope the absinth helps.

I picked up absinth today. It was $60, so it had better last me at least two days. I've been drinking it by just mixing it with breakfast juice and have noticed no psychedelic effects, but I remain surprisingly alert.

I'm quite tired of this sinus issue keeping me in. How will I experience the fullness of Sydney (read chat up Aussie girls) when I'm required to remain indoors due to illness? Liquor had best make me better.

"Adult's Only" Big Brother is on tonight. It's rumored to have full frontal nudity on occasion. Do I tune in or no? The mystery must be excruciating for the reader.

Travelogue Day 11

2006-07-24T22:45:00.000-04:00

4/6/06

Walked to the Italian festival after the presentation from Al's highly attractive travel agent acquaintance. It was decidedly underwhelming. Devon and I then walked down to Circular Quay and had lunch at a reasonably affordable place. My lunch was very good, and I will be finding my way back there again.

We made it back to the UniLodge and, later, Devon, Mike, and Tom bought a bottle of absinth. I'll pick one up for myself tomorrow.

**I don't have a picture of the bottle they got and couldn't find one on the internet, sorry.

Travelogue Day 10

2006-07-24T10:05:00.000-04:00

3/6/06

I went on the harbour cruise. We started in Darling Harbour and went under the bridge and around the various inlets of the greater Sydney Harbour. We saw where the ocean met the harbour and even got to look in the windows of some far too expensive harbourside condos as we floated past. The food on the cruise was pretty good, and I met some of the internship kids. They seem nice enough overall.

Got back and picked up some Jacob's Creek reserve shiraz. It was pretty tasty and left me with a clear head, which was nice. Afterward, we went to the Lansdowne for dinner and drinks. I met four nice young ladies, but began feeling poorly again, so I had to call it a night rather than accompany them to King's Cross.

**Some of the too few pictures I took during the harbour cruise will be posted once I set up a flickr account.

Travelogue Day 9

2006-07-24T09:45:00.000-04:00

2/6/06

Had an Asian cinema primer with Paul Burns (former artistic director of the Sydney Film Festival among other things) that was quite good. A lot of overlap with Warren's class, but a lot of new information too. I missed the first bit of Picnic at Hanging Rock because the queue barely moved at all when I went to finish my film fesitval bookings.

During my walk back, I picked up some jiaogulan tea (translation of the Japanese name for this tea is: happy grass) from a shop in the Asian district. It's rather good and will, hopefully, keep away whatever is trying to make me sick. If I don't feel significantly better by tomorrow, I will have to miss the harbour cruise.

Travelogue Days 7 and 8

2006-07-23T13:42:00.000-04:00

31/5/06

Watched Bliss, another excellent film. Devon, Mike, and I went with Daryl to the Broadway Cafe during the break before our 14:00 meeting with Greg, the instructor of our entertainment promotion class. I learned that Aussie businesses tend not to quibble over big bills ($100 to pay a $3.80 bill) and had some interesting conversation.

I'll be making my way down to the State Theatre again today. I have to get the rest of my tickets for the festival. I think I'll price out some chartreuse while I'm here since I'll be seeing a doco about the monastic order that distills it.

Greg's class was intersting. All indications are that I'll be putting together a promotional program for the Creative Commons organization. It promises to be an experience. After class I watched the interviews with Chopper on the Chopper DVD. He's just as charismatic as Eric Bana portrayed him.

Went to Newtown Thai II. The food was good. The company reinforced my determination to never go anywhere with <one of our number> if I can at all avoid it.

1/6/06

Saw The Tracker and a number of film clips as well. Many more are still to be seen.

This evening I saw The Herd at the Manning Pub on the Sydney University campus. Aussie hip-hop is pretty good. Tonight also saw the origin of the "ride the bus" joke.

I've spent far too much on booze tonight.

Travelogue Day 6

2006-07-23T08:39:00.000-04:00

30/5/06

Watched Chopper in class today. It was quite good, cold colours, lighthearted violence, and a criminal you can't help but like. Afterward, Daryl led us down to Darling Harbour by way of Chinatown. It's easily a tourist trap, but quite pretty. There is a Chinese garden down there that I must go back to visit.

We then walked over to the State Theatre on Market Street. It's set amongst what appear to be some rather fancy shops. It is one of the old picture palaces and adorned properly. I must go back sometime to photograph the entryway, at the very least.

Walking back to the UniLodge by way of George/Broadway Street seemed to take much longer than the journey out. I fell asleep far too early (~19:00) and missed an interesting night out.

**Sadly, I never got any photos of the State Theatre myself despite going there far too many times for screenings. These photos were taken from here without permission. I hope they don't mind.

Travelogue Day 5

2006-07-23T08:21:00.000-04:00

29/5/06

First day of class, and it was good, a lot of information.

We watched a DVD on the history of Sydney (need to see if I can get a copy of this somewhere), and Devon and I had some quality conversation with Daryl and Fred. We also worked out which films at the Sydney Film Festival would be compulsory today.

After class, Devon, Marc, and I went to Chinatown for lunch. Yum cha is good (tea time menu: small plates of three to four tasty items). I also tried some of Marc's shark fin soup. It was rather bland. I don't get the hype. Later, Devon and I went to the Australian Youth. It was nice, a possible local, but the search for a permanent local is still on.

I got far too much pancetta at the deli today. I must get used to using metric units. It also seems like Aussie food labels could help you eat healthier once you know how to read them. They tend to tell you in more detail what percentage of which ingredients compose your food, within reason, and also make it easy to find which preservatives and flavour enhancers are in there too once you know which one is flavour enhancer 220.

The faculty and organizers of this program are great. We should definitely treat them to drinks before we leave.

Travelogue Day 4

2006-07-23T06:40:00.000-04:00

28/5/06

For breakfast: pancakes. They come with one strawberry, dusted in icing sugar, and accompanied by both maple syrup and King Island cream. They are awesome.

Breakfast ended late for some of our number , and that, plus being interrupted by The Amazing Race people, led to us being 30 minutes late meeting Daryl. We did, however, get to Manly on the ferry, meet up with Daryl, and set off on our beach/bush discovery trek.

Daryl took us to a former military installation that has been turned back over to the people as a national park. It has some great places to take photos and access to beaches. He took us to Shelly Beach, Manly beach, and Palm Beach among others. The walk from Shelly to Manly beaches was lined with all sorts of interesting things like salt water pools carved from rock (Daryl tells us that they are refreshed every day when the tide comes in to wash them out), and little sculptures on the rocks along the way. We also rode the Palm Beach Ferry for a circuit and saw various places where you can camp in that bay (some accessible only by water).

After seeing some more rally nice beaches, Daryl dropped s back off at the Manly Wharf where we took the ferry back to Circular Quay. I took some interesting (to me) night shots from the deck of the ferry as we were pulling back in.

We made our way back to the UniLodge, and I finally went out to get some grocieries. I'll have to pick up a notebook tomorrow. Now to sort through the massive amounts of information Daryl gave to us.

Side note: Apparently most beaches in Australia are public and unable to be made private. You can buy a house on the beach, but the beach behind it remains for public use.

Travelogue Day 3

2006-07-22T09:55:00.000-04:00

27/5/06

Mark meets us in the lobby for a whirlwind historical tour. I'll need A.C.'s notes to adequately recall the information, but we learned a lot about when which buildings were built where (Most of the oldest good looking buildings were due to governor Macquarie, as were many roads and other such infrastructural things), the discovery and growth of Australia, and a bit about Australia's history with its indigenous peoples.

We visited the Sydney (or is it New South Wales?) library, old customs house,
Australia Museum, the Rocks, Hyde Park, and many other places. I took many pictures that should refresh the memory. After Mark's wife Charlie met us for lunch, he left us to our own devices for the rest of the day. While everyone else went to the markets in Glebe (which I hear weren't as hippie as expected), Devon and I walked around in the Royal Botanic Gardens, taking photos of exotic (for us) plants and wildlife. Bats, birds, and great views were in abundance at the botanical gardens, and we only covered maybe one quarter of its space. (sadly, we didn't make it into the sex and death exhibit)

We made our way back, enlisted Mike, Marc, and Tom, and headed back to the Lansdowne for dinner. The Thai fishcakes weren't bad, and Coopers red label was good.

We adjourned back to the UniLodge for some beers on the roof with everyone (the UniLodge roof has a great view of the Sydney skyline) before losing three and going to another bar, whose sign just read Sports Bar, for $2.50 Victoria Bitters and drinking games that I wasn't quite into.

Sleep.

** All photos were taken by me. Yes, I have (far too) many more. Some of these have had the brightness and/or contrast adjusted for the better or worse. The bats will look blurry because I was using the digital zoom on a point-and-shoot digital camera. They were rather high in the air.

Travelogue Day 2

2006-07-21T11:15:00.000-04:00

26/5/06 (What happened to 25? I think it must have fallen down a hole somewhere)

I get in feeling more refreshed than when I left (thank you Qantas). Once through customs, we met Al and were driven to the UniLodge by the crazy Russian shuttle service. I say this because the driver of the van that Devon, Marc, and I were in spent the entire time on a walkie talkie, going back and forth with someone in russian while trying to drive with his other hand. We made it to the UniLodge ok and got checked in with Pascal. My room is quite spacious as it was intended for two.

I managed to get unpacked, showered, and changed by the time we were to meet Al downstairs for the surprisingly short walk to the classroom building.

Al, Mark, Pascal, and everyone had bought us our second large coffees of the day by this tme, and we were introduced to everyone. We got the course timeline, a general idea of the courses, our mobile phones, and a Sydney magazine among other things. At this point, I was experienceing tactile hallucinations, so I'm sure I lost a lot of the info from today.

We took our things back to our rooms, had lunch at a very affordable place attached to the UniLodge, and headed down to Circular Quay (pronounced key). We walked a bit, saw the Opera House and the Rocks, and walked around learning a lot of things I'm sure I've forgotten before coming back for dinner. We were met by everyone at the Lansdowne, a place with a really great meal deal where you get a meal for $5 or $10 when you purchase a drink. The food was good, the beer was good, and it was all expensed. Mark and Pascal also suggested the Clare and Australian Youth as possible locals. I'll have to check them out.

I crashed into bed quite early. Having a bed that rolls so easily is interesting. I must try to stabilize it.

Rules of Idiot

2006-07-20T23:08:00.000-04:00

1. Every player is dealt three cards, which they aren't allowed to look at and must remain face-down until the end of the game.

2. They are, then, dealt seven cards each from which they pick their best possible penultimate hand and place those cards face-up on the three hidden cards. You want high numerical value, multiple, or wild cards if you have them.

3. After all players have put down at least three cards (to cover the hidden cards), they take as many cards from the deck as they put down (you must have at least seven cards in you hand so long as there is still a deck to draw from). The players are allowed to alter the penultimate hand for the first two rounds after which it is locked in.

4. Cards retain their numerical values and no attention is paid to suit. Three cards are essentially trump cards: Twos can be played to any card and restart the values, Tens clear the pile and the player is allowed to place another card in the middle, Aces are the highest card and can only be beaten by another ace or trump. Also, if four of a kind appears, the four cards are removed from play and the player who threw the fourth matching card gets another turn (i.e. if player 1 throws a 6, player 2 throws two 6s, and player 3 throws the fourth 6, then the four 6s are removed from play and player 3 goes again.).

5. The game is played such that each player is required to meet, beat, or trump the card(s) thrown by the previous player. This continues until one player has no more cards.

6. You can throw multiples if you have them (i.e. you can put three 5s down at the same time), and if you have four of a kind, you get another turn.

7. If you can't meet, beat, or trump the card, you may draw a card fromt he deck. If that card can meet, beat, or trump, you may play it. If not, you pick up that card and the entire pile, all of which becomes your hand.

8. Again, all players must have a minimum of seven cards in their hands while there is still a deck to draw from.

9. The player who runs out of cards first wins.

10. Every time cards are played is a round (the first round is started by whoever has the lowest value card), and are allowed to adjust the penultimate hand for the first three rounds, but only while it is still your turn.

Travelogue Day 1

2006-07-20T22:46:00.000-04:00

5/24/06

I didn't get all of my cleaning done before leaving the apartment, so that'll be fun to come back to. I also left 30 minutes later than I had intended, but I still managed to get to the airport, check in, and get through security by the time I had intended to arrive at the airport. Sometimes the speed of the MBTA is surprising. Now, I sit looking out the windows listening to the breaking news of an airport fire in Istanbul on CNN.

DFW: In 30 minutes early. I actually remembered the rules to the card game I know as Idiot thanks to two pretty girls sitting next to me on the flight who were playing cards, which jogged my memory. The rules can be found here.

LAX: Got in about on time and, luckily, Qantas departures to Sydney are run out of the same terminal that American Airlines uses. I had a very short walk from picking up my bags to the beginning of the best flying experience of all my traveling.

The Qantas people at check-in were very pleasant and helpful. Getting through security was a bit of a pain because they only had two screening stations open, but once through, the wait for the plane wasn't bad. I met Devon, and we had a little something to eat as we waited for everyone else to arrive.

Once on the plane, the experience got very much better. I was seated in a window rather than an aisle seat, but it made little difference. The gentleman seated at the aisle was quite agreeable and accomodated me each time I wanted to get up.

Qantas gives each passenger on overnight flights a little kit with a sleeping mask, socks, and a travel toothbrush with a bit of toothpaste. On our plane, we even had personal terminals with on-demand access to the onboard media library of 40 or more movies, various TV episodes, a number of CDs, and video games (if I'm leaving anything out, it's because there was just so much to take in). The whole setup is great. In the morning, the crew even came by with hot cloths for freshening up.

Speaking of the crew, they were excellent as well. I have absolutely no complaints with this flight; it was super. I don't know if all Qantas flights are like this one, but if they are, I would encourage anyone thinking of flying to Australia to travel with Qantas. Any possible extra cost for the ticket is more than made up for by the quality of the experience.
(No, they aren't paying me to say that)

I'm back

2006-07-18T09:40:00.000-04:00

and I'm still whinging about it. That's mostly because I'm still in a bad mood from being depressed about leaving Aussieland. I'll make my way back to normal enough after I've had a significant amount of alcohol. For the meantime, I still have plenty to be angry about (one of the bottles of wine I brought back shattered into heaps of tiny pieces, leading to me having to rewash many clothes, and my conditioner exploded in another suitcase).

Eventually I'll get some more of the money I'm advancing myself from 30 years in the future and pick up my mail. I'll also be publishing my travelogue/viewing notes once I have the time to change certain details to protect the guilty.

Now more than ever

2006-07-06T19:25:00.000-04:00

I miss my music. I've missed not having my music around for the duration of my trip to Oz, but now that it's coming time to write papers and finish assignments, the longing is worse. I'm not used to working without musical accompaniment. Where are the auditory hallucinations when I need them?

I don't understand

2006-06-28T02:35:00.000-04:00

It is infuriatingly difficult to find out who called your mobile phone if you don't already have their number saved as a contact name and they didn't leave a voicemail in Australia. I know the number is from NSW because it has the 02 prefix, but to find anything else, it seems I must be a government agent. Seriously, wtf?

I did a little google searching for a reverse phone database/lookup for Australia, but I couldn't find one. Some of the search results seem to indicate that there is legislation keeping this sort of functionality unavailable for Australia. Their regular phone listings are searchable on the internet. If I know someone's name, I can search the online white pages for her address and/or phone number. However, I cannot search for her name and/or address if all I have is the telephone number.

That makes no sense. It's just allowing search on a different category in the database. I could do the same thing if I wanted to take the damn time to transcribe the phone book into a text file and grep for the phone number. How is being able to find someone from the phone number they leave behind any more invasive of privacy than finding them from the name they leave behind? Can someone, preferably one of the geniuses that voted to make this sort of arrangement, please explain the logic behind such an asinine law?

Also, could that same person please point me in the direction of someone who could tell me who tried to call me because if it's someone I'd like to talk to, I'd like to call her back. Thanks

So...

2006-06-22T00:40:00.000-04:00

I've finally fallen victim to increasing my internet presence. Far be it from me to be anonymous any longer. At least now I have a much better place to post blogs than MySpace (why oh why did I let my friends talk me into that?).