Muffin Tops (2009)
my head
is full of gr-
-eat ideas for
blogs, novels, b-
ooks, films. A smor-
-gasbord of creativity, bu-
-rsting to escape, unleash up-
-on the world
but
sadly
they rem-
-ain like m-
-uffin tops, seper-
-ate, isolated, juicy b-
-ut unsubstantial, a tast-
-e of genius, too brief to be
appreciated
If I had to identify one cause for my failure to have won a Booker Prize or Noble Prize for Literature by now I would say it was the blank page.
The tyranny of the blank page!
I have lost count the number of times that the most intriguing of titles and enticing of opening lines have died on the operating table of the blank page. Left to die in an ocean of white; surrounded on all sides by empty margins and unfilled spaces. I, the surgeon, desperately seeking a resuscitating breathe: a quote, a sentence, at the very least a word. Anything that jump-starts the promise of inspiration that originated from a song lyric, snatch of conversation or passage from a book.
The casualty list of the past few days has been disheartening. The emergency ward of my blog folder the site of failure after failure of creative will. Homage to Rufus Wainwright deflated by an afternoon nap, an exploration of movie soundtracks overcome by school work and finally a reflection on education superseded by marking. All these failures are unacceptable: each one fully formed in my head, each on a reminder of my failings as a writer.
Even this entry has been a struggle against the forces of blank pages. A sustained resistance following my poem made proffered terms of safe withdrawal enticing. The desire to end after such a short foray into the creative sector of my brain was only proof of my weakness. I wouldn’t write at all if I didn’t have this blog.
What then would I do?
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Pleasures of Franchises
I’m not sure when it occurred. It came as a reality to me only in spurts and slithers: meaningless chatter over coffee; a heated debate over a final supper. But from where did this hatred emerge? What sinister acts produced such an embittered response?
Why do people so dislike American franchises?
I personally find this a hard thing to fathom. Intellectually, I find it hard to get worked up over a logo that represents a stock price that represents a group of company executives almost half a world away. Practically, does my own act of corporate defiance really count as a body blow against their ultimate economic gain? In my own head maybe but can the CEO actually see me shaking my fist at him when he reads a spreadsheet? Would s/he even care?
An American “friend” of mine, J, was one of the first of these new breeds of people who hated the American franchise. On my first trip to LA, I was enamoured with a new coffee chain that I encountered: Starbucks. Located directly across from my hotel room, this bastion of coffee and cakes became a daily ritual for breakfast: a fresh coffee, brisk sunshine, me and my book. In fact, wherever I went I would make a point of visiting and photographing my visits to these houses of coffee. It became a running joke between T and I that I was on the Starbucks tour of LA.
However, J was none to pleased when I innocently suggested one morning that we get a coffee. Little did I know of the crimes of this corporate giant and listened with horror as J exposed my newly found home away from home. So it was with decidedly less relish that I sipped on my cappuccino and tried not to feel like I had personally plundered and ripped off the coffee growers of the world.
J however was only one in a long line of people who on my return to Oz began preaching about their celibacy from the corporate giants of American greed that were invading Sydney. They marked with horror the mushroom like explosion of Starbucks in every suburb and the menace of Krispy Kreme on the street corners and suburban shopping centres. I continued, unaffected and fuelled the monster. Was I the only one who did not see the impending danger?
Time went by, Starbucks and Kispy Kreme went from abhorrent to average and slowly these friends drifted away. I still feed the monster but do I still not get it? Maybe the monster seduced me with her false promises of equity and ethical practice. Maybe I have lied to myself so many times that I can no longer spot it. Maybe I was born too cynical to even try to fix it. Or maybe, just maybe, there is beauty in the beast.
Ode to Starbucks (2009)
I have followed the green mermaid
Across continents and cities
Searched for her through malls and shopping centres
Looked longingly at her from across lights and in darkened shadows
Visited hourly, daily, weekly:
Addicted to her decorated cups, recycled holders and sweet bagels
Lining up in weather foul or fair, queues long or empty
Craving, needing, impatient, demanding.
Oh how I hate you!
Your monotonous menu bores me
Your prices offend my common sense
Your standard furniture so stale and ungainly
Yet I cannot live without
The comforting certainty of caramel macchiato on demand
Your clean and comfortable décor
The pleasant air of chatter, coffee and gossip
Oh joyful monotony
May you live forever unchanged
Why do people so dislike American franchises?
I personally find this a hard thing to fathom. Intellectually, I find it hard to get worked up over a logo that represents a stock price that represents a group of company executives almost half a world away. Practically, does my own act of corporate defiance really count as a body blow against their ultimate economic gain? In my own head maybe but can the CEO actually see me shaking my fist at him when he reads a spreadsheet? Would s/he even care?
An American “friend” of mine, J, was one of the first of these new breeds of people who hated the American franchise. On my first trip to LA, I was enamoured with a new coffee chain that I encountered: Starbucks. Located directly across from my hotel room, this bastion of coffee and cakes became a daily ritual for breakfast: a fresh coffee, brisk sunshine, me and my book. In fact, wherever I went I would make a point of visiting and photographing my visits to these houses of coffee. It became a running joke between T and I that I was on the Starbucks tour of LA.
However, J was none to pleased when I innocently suggested one morning that we get a coffee. Little did I know of the crimes of this corporate giant and listened with horror as J exposed my newly found home away from home. So it was with decidedly less relish that I sipped on my cappuccino and tried not to feel like I had personally plundered and ripped off the coffee growers of the world.
J however was only one in a long line of people who on my return to Oz began preaching about their celibacy from the corporate giants of American greed that were invading Sydney. They marked with horror the mushroom like explosion of Starbucks in every suburb and the menace of Krispy Kreme on the street corners and suburban shopping centres. I continued, unaffected and fuelled the monster. Was I the only one who did not see the impending danger?
Time went by, Starbucks and Kispy Kreme went from abhorrent to average and slowly these friends drifted away. I still feed the monster but do I still not get it? Maybe the monster seduced me with her false promises of equity and ethical practice. Maybe I have lied to myself so many times that I can no longer spot it. Maybe I was born too cynical to even try to fix it. Or maybe, just maybe, there is beauty in the beast.
Ode to Starbucks (2009)
I have followed the green mermaid
Across continents and cities
Searched for her through malls and shopping centres
Looked longingly at her from across lights and in darkened shadows
Visited hourly, daily, weekly:
Addicted to her decorated cups, recycled holders and sweet bagels
Lining up in weather foul or fair, queues long or empty
Craving, needing, impatient, demanding.
Oh how I hate you!
Your monotonous menu bores me
Your prices offend my common sense
Your standard furniture so stale and ungainly
Yet I cannot live without
The comforting certainty of caramel macchiato on demand
Your clean and comfortable décor
The pleasant air of chatter, coffee and gossip
Oh joyful monotony
May you live forever unchanged
Friday, October 16, 2009
William Carlos Williams
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Above is a poem that was first shown to me in Year 7 by one of my favourite teachers of all time: Mr Green. Mr Green was only my teacher for a year but he remains today one of my idols and someone I aspire to be as I go about my job.
As for the poet, William Carlos Williams is one of the literary giants of American poetry alongside Eliot and Pound but less well known or studied. However, after my brief encounter with Williams’ The Red Wheelbarrow I was hooked and have been an ardent admirer ever since.
What attracted me to this poetry? Most people simply laugh when I quote this poem for them. Often it is followed by a blank stare or a derisive remark about my seriousness. Many people think that the structure, let alone the material, makes it unworthy to be considered Poetry (NB: a deliberate capital).
On some level I completely agree, if you consider poetry simple from the Coleridge or Patterson perspective: long, rhyming and blatantly clear. Also, as I constantly hear from my students, most people hate poetry at school and automatically distrust anything labelled as such as being difficult or deliberately confusing.
However, I think it is this attitude that is the problem. Poetry, like all things in life, is difficult if you can’t appreciate it in a way that you enjoy. That’s why when I read poetry I don’t try to understand everything the poet is trying to say. For me, it’s the vibe or overall mood that the poet creates that matters to me. It sounds strange coming from a teacher but I don’t care if I don’t fully understand it.
This then is the reason I love William Carlos Williams, or WCW (not World Championship Wrestling) and his poems. Take for instance The Red Wheelbarrow: on face value it is deceptively simple – a poem about a red wheelbarrow sitting outside in the rain beside some chickens. This to most people makes it worthless because, unlike Coleridge who writes about albatrosses and life/death on the sea, the content is not of value. Yet for me, it is this simplicity that elevates WCW’s poetry where others falter. The pacing and structure of his poem creates a sense of serenity that relaxes us as we imagine this wheelbarrow just sitting outside in the rain. It takes me back to my childhood: sitting in my dad’s study looking enviously outside as the rain came down on the garden table and the park in which I loved to play. It brought back that sense of innocence that we lose so quickly these days as our lives becoming increasingly cluttered with study, work and electronic distractions. Lastly, it reminded me of the great joy that comes when the rain stops: the smell of fresh growth in the grass, the intoxicating smell of clean washed concrete and the knowledge that I was once again free to roam the green expanses outside.
That enough of my waxing lyrical about his poems and I would just suggest that you look him up: you’ll be pleasantly surprised. But the final word as usual is left to me and in honour of WCW, I wrote this poem:
Waiting for my wife (2009)
The acrid smell of
cigarettes make me
COUGH
and
COUGH.
purplepinkandblue
flashpastinhaste
Korea town sydney:
a monotonous sea of black hair
as the busker prepares his
awkward
microphone
stand.
Thoughts of dinner gnaw at my stomach.
Dylan, simon, garfunkle, joplin in my ear.
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
Above is a poem that was first shown to me in Year 7 by one of my favourite teachers of all time: Mr Green. Mr Green was only my teacher for a year but he remains today one of my idols and someone I aspire to be as I go about my job.
As for the poet, William Carlos Williams is one of the literary giants of American poetry alongside Eliot and Pound but less well known or studied. However, after my brief encounter with Williams’ The Red Wheelbarrow I was hooked and have been an ardent admirer ever since.
What attracted me to this poetry? Most people simply laugh when I quote this poem for them. Often it is followed by a blank stare or a derisive remark about my seriousness. Many people think that the structure, let alone the material, makes it unworthy to be considered Poetry (NB: a deliberate capital).
On some level I completely agree, if you consider poetry simple from the Coleridge or Patterson perspective: long, rhyming and blatantly clear. Also, as I constantly hear from my students, most people hate poetry at school and automatically distrust anything labelled as such as being difficult or deliberately confusing.
However, I think it is this attitude that is the problem. Poetry, like all things in life, is difficult if you can’t appreciate it in a way that you enjoy. That’s why when I read poetry I don’t try to understand everything the poet is trying to say. For me, it’s the vibe or overall mood that the poet creates that matters to me. It sounds strange coming from a teacher but I don’t care if I don’t fully understand it.
This then is the reason I love William Carlos Williams, or WCW (not World Championship Wrestling) and his poems. Take for instance The Red Wheelbarrow: on face value it is deceptively simple – a poem about a red wheelbarrow sitting outside in the rain beside some chickens. This to most people makes it worthless because, unlike Coleridge who writes about albatrosses and life/death on the sea, the content is not of value. Yet for me, it is this simplicity that elevates WCW’s poetry where others falter. The pacing and structure of his poem creates a sense of serenity that relaxes us as we imagine this wheelbarrow just sitting outside in the rain. It takes me back to my childhood: sitting in my dad’s study looking enviously outside as the rain came down on the garden table and the park in which I loved to play. It brought back that sense of innocence that we lose so quickly these days as our lives becoming increasingly cluttered with study, work and electronic distractions. Lastly, it reminded me of the great joy that comes when the rain stops: the smell of fresh growth in the grass, the intoxicating smell of clean washed concrete and the knowledge that I was once again free to roam the green expanses outside.
That enough of my waxing lyrical about his poems and I would just suggest that you look him up: you’ll be pleasantly surprised. But the final word as usual is left to me and in honour of WCW, I wrote this poem:
Waiting for my wife (2009)
The acrid smell of
cigarettes make me
COUGH
and
COUGH.
purplepinkandblue
flashpastinhaste
Korea town sydney:
a monotonous sea of black hair
as the busker prepares his
awkward
microphone
stand.
Thoughts of dinner gnaw at my stomach.
Dylan, simon, garfunkle, joplin in my ear.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Excitement in my life is dinner without heartburn
The title of today’s blog is from one of my favourite directors: Woody Allen. Revered, controversial, polarising: Allen has been making Hollywood films since the 1970s and continues to turn out critically acclaimed films. His latest, Whatever Works, will be released this week and I for one can’t wait to reacquaint myself with this iconic directorial figure.
My opinion of Woody Allen is a little like the main characters in his films: neurotic, uncertain and at times hard to accept. Take for example the one and a half Allen films I saw today: Scoop (0.5) and Husbands and Wives (1.0).
Scoop I got for two reasons: Woody Allen and Scarlett Johanssen. I would be lying to say that the latter wasn’t more of a driving factor but the partnership between the two had created great films in Match Point and Vickie Christina Barcelona and I wanted to complete my collection. Unfortunately the DVD will remain merely a placeholder in my collection: it was so cringe-inducing that I had to stop it half-way through before I was too disheartened. Johanssen was obviously so heavily under the influence of Allen during the film that it was like watching a female version of him on the screen and I couldn’t stand it. Hence my contradiction: while I love the feel and essence of his films (especially his directorial features) there is something about his neurosis that comes through in his acting that I can’t stand. The small, neurotic, Jewish aspects that so infuriate also make the films so adorable.
Husbands and Wives is a perfect example of this allure. Made in 1992, it is the perfect example of the Allen film making magic. Neurotic, unstable, illogical characters inhabit a world of flux in which the self doubts which we all face play havoc with their seemingly ordered existence. This is classic Woody Allen: himself in the lead role, the rambling and sparse storyline, the documentary style camera and pacing, a great ensemble cast and clever writing. It is everything a great thoughtful movie can be and it was a joy to watch. Yet these same elements mixed together in Scoop were driving me mad: the neurotic writer so fearful of criticism and change that was endearing in Husbands and Wives was merely an annoying, neurotic magician fearful of change in Scoop.
All in all though, Allen is deservedly recognised as one of the great directors. While he may come out with a shocker once in a while, his formula works more often than not and he has a great sense of what works on the big screen. I think the reviewer from the Sydney Morning Herald put it best when he finished his review for Whatever Works: a Woody film for Woody watchers.
My opinion of Woody Allen is a little like the main characters in his films: neurotic, uncertain and at times hard to accept. Take for example the one and a half Allen films I saw today: Scoop (0.5) and Husbands and Wives (1.0).
Scoop I got for two reasons: Woody Allen and Scarlett Johanssen. I would be lying to say that the latter wasn’t more of a driving factor but the partnership between the two had created great films in Match Point and Vickie Christina Barcelona and I wanted to complete my collection. Unfortunately the DVD will remain merely a placeholder in my collection: it was so cringe-inducing that I had to stop it half-way through before I was too disheartened. Johanssen was obviously so heavily under the influence of Allen during the film that it was like watching a female version of him on the screen and I couldn’t stand it. Hence my contradiction: while I love the feel and essence of his films (especially his directorial features) there is something about his neurosis that comes through in his acting that I can’t stand. The small, neurotic, Jewish aspects that so infuriate also make the films so adorable.
Husbands and Wives is a perfect example of this allure. Made in 1992, it is the perfect example of the Allen film making magic. Neurotic, unstable, illogical characters inhabit a world of flux in which the self doubts which we all face play havoc with their seemingly ordered existence. This is classic Woody Allen: himself in the lead role, the rambling and sparse storyline, the documentary style camera and pacing, a great ensemble cast and clever writing. It is everything a great thoughtful movie can be and it was a joy to watch. Yet these same elements mixed together in Scoop were driving me mad: the neurotic writer so fearful of criticism and change that was endearing in Husbands and Wives was merely an annoying, neurotic magician fearful of change in Scoop.
All in all though, Allen is deservedly recognised as one of the great directors. While he may come out with a shocker once in a while, his formula works more often than not and he has a great sense of what works on the big screen. I think the reviewer from the Sydney Morning Herald put it best when he finished his review for Whatever Works: a Woody film for Woody watchers.
What’s Wrong with Wrestling I: Age of the Dinosaurs
It is said that those who fail to learn from their mistakes are bound to repeat them. Perhaps McMahon and co at World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE a.k.a. WWF) should reflect on this saying because after watching the latest episode of Monday Night Raw I’m beginning to wonder why I even bothered tuning in.
In general, it has to be said, Raw has been the weaker of WWE’s two main shows over the last few months and Smackdown has continually provided a more entertaining product. It has younger talent (Morrison, Punk, Ziggler, Cryme Tyme) and feuds that haven’t been played out at least three times before. Moreover, the shows are slick and actually make sense in terms of storylines and pay-per-view matches.
Raw on the other hand is stuck in a rut of running the same feuds with the same talent that was popular 5 or more years ago. Cases in point:
*Orton/Cena feud: these guys have been feuding off and on for the last 4 years at least with limited success yet at the next pay-per-view we get a whole HOUR of them going at it
*DX/any future talent: HHH and Michaels were popular during the 90s because they were attitude – they have the same act, the same jokes and continue to prevent younger talent from getting places e.g. Legacy
*Jericho/Show: the unified world tag teams champions are feuding and will probably split up just like every single tag team partner does with Show leaving him once again a big guy who they occasionally give a title to keep him happy
So what would I do, so all those narks can’t accuse me of criticizing without offering solutions? A few names for you: MVP, Miz, Swagger, Bourne and Kingston. These are the future of the industry and every time they ever get even slightly built up they have to get knocked down a peg or so HHH, Show, Orton or Cena can get another run with the belt. Let these guys run with the title for a while and when you do, don’t book them badly like you did Punk or Mysterio so that their title runs become a joke. Also, stop the gimmicky pay-per-views (one gimmicky match per show is enough) and let them wrestle without the need for ridiculous stipulations everyone knows don’t mean squat.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Ruddellian World We Have Become
It seems a bit clichéd to claim that the world has become Orwellian and to a certain extent that’s true: hi-tech surveillance cameras, tracking personal information through the internet etc. However, it’s some of the less obvious features of Orwell’s utopia that seem imminent: Exhibit 1 – Sky News Australia.
I remember reading a few months back about the rise of Sky News and the new era of public information it foreshadowed. The time of up-to-date, breaking news with continuous coverage and analysis was upon us and the democracy of information here. Unfortunately, recent coverage of the Rudd government through its news and analysis programs shows it to be otherwise: the democracy of information has turned Ruddellian.
Definition
Ruddellian: the way in which news agenda is controlled by the Rudd government so that any fair coverage of the news is impossible.
Case Study
It has been reported continually about the in-fighting and disarray of the federal Opposition lead by Malcolm Turnbull. Moreover, the Rudd government has been very po-faced in not commenting on the Opposition but not afraid to twist the knife whenever bad press strikes. Now don’t take this as just the whinging of a disgruntled Howard supporter: I voted loud and proud for Kevin 07 and I have the t-shirts to prove it; it’s just that I have become so disillusioned with K-Rudd that I am counting down the days to vote against him in the next election.
One of the major things used to attack the Opposition has been their stance on stimulus spending, in particular their opposition to it and now calls for winding it back. Financial data seemed against them and Swan and Rudd were all too happy to remind everyone that Turnbull wanted it wound back against the advice of treasury and risking jobs. Then bang: Ross Garnout comes out and criticises the continued spending and it seems the Opposition have scored a point. Not according to the Sky News perspective however.
Sky News joyfully reports that Swan has announced that funding has been wound back already in response to this and that the government had it covered. This coming from the man who has spent the last few weeks berating the Opposition for wanting to wind back spending and using Ken Henry and his goons at treasury to support his stance. I sat slack jawed as he announced that it had already been rolled back and awaited the barrage of questions regarding his previous stance.
Silence.
Not a single question from the press was shown and the story was abruptly ended.
My problem here is that Sky News has deliberately not included important context and selectively chosen to include Garnout but exclude the daily comments from Turnbull and co about the exact same issue. Is this deliberately misleading the public? Does Sky News have a vested interest in Rudd? What happened to genuine journalism that took the party political stance out of reporting and instead tried to provide a balanced story?
The Ruddellian world is upon us.
I remember reading a few months back about the rise of Sky News and the new era of public information it foreshadowed. The time of up-to-date, breaking news with continuous coverage and analysis was upon us and the democracy of information here. Unfortunately, recent coverage of the Rudd government through its news and analysis programs shows it to be otherwise: the democracy of information has turned Ruddellian.
Definition
Ruddellian: the way in which news agenda is controlled by the Rudd government so that any fair coverage of the news is impossible.
Case Study
It has been reported continually about the in-fighting and disarray of the federal Opposition lead by Malcolm Turnbull. Moreover, the Rudd government has been very po-faced in not commenting on the Opposition but not afraid to twist the knife whenever bad press strikes. Now don’t take this as just the whinging of a disgruntled Howard supporter: I voted loud and proud for Kevin 07 and I have the t-shirts to prove it; it’s just that I have become so disillusioned with K-Rudd that I am counting down the days to vote against him in the next election.
One of the major things used to attack the Opposition has been their stance on stimulus spending, in particular their opposition to it and now calls for winding it back. Financial data seemed against them and Swan and Rudd were all too happy to remind everyone that Turnbull wanted it wound back against the advice of treasury and risking jobs. Then bang: Ross Garnout comes out and criticises the continued spending and it seems the Opposition have scored a point. Not according to the Sky News perspective however.
Sky News joyfully reports that Swan has announced that funding has been wound back already in response to this and that the government had it covered. This coming from the man who has spent the last few weeks berating the Opposition for wanting to wind back spending and using Ken Henry and his goons at treasury to support his stance. I sat slack jawed as he announced that it had already been rolled back and awaited the barrage of questions regarding his previous stance.
Silence.
Not a single question from the press was shown and the story was abruptly ended.
My problem here is that Sky News has deliberately not included important context and selectively chosen to include Garnout but exclude the daily comments from Turnbull and co about the exact same issue. Is this deliberately misleading the public? Does Sky News have a vested interest in Rudd? What happened to genuine journalism that took the party political stance out of reporting and instead tried to provide a balanced story?
The Ruddellian world is upon us.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Raison D'Etre
Usually I ignore most of my friends who tell me to read their blogs about their holidays, relationship and other fluff that they feel the need to write about. It would then seem hypocritical of me to start my own blog expect other people to read it, right?
However, while I would hope someone might read this blog and gather who knows what from the random garbage that comes from my mind, I hope the blogger sphere does not feel offended if I don't really care what they think.
The base reason for this blog: Julie and Julia. Just came back from the film, enjoyed it and thought it might be fun to try some blogging myself (if I can twitter then the world's my oyster) and I could do with the writing practice.
The metaphysical reason for this blog: I want to be a writer and publish a book some day so no better place to practice and get notice.
Watch this space...
However, while I would hope someone might read this blog and gather who knows what from the random garbage that comes from my mind, I hope the blogger sphere does not feel offended if I don't really care what they think.
The base reason for this blog: Julie and Julia. Just came back from the film, enjoyed it and thought it might be fun to try some blogging myself (if I can twitter then the world's my oyster) and I could do with the writing practice.
The metaphysical reason for this blog: I want to be a writer and publish a book some day so no better place to practice and get notice.
Watch this space...
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