The Banal Chew

Dragonflies and Cartwheels

I am a step-dad in a relatively young relationship. Although Zane has only been in my life for about 3 1/2 years now, it seems I've known him since his infancy. He was merely six (and so tiny!) when he came to live with Mark and me in Tucson. Now he's over nine...going on twenty it seems. It's exciting to watch him grow up and to think what he'll be like as a teenager in a few years. Okay, sometimes that causes a grimace, but I'm not too worried. Mark and I (and his mother in Canberra) do our absolute best to ensure he is getting the best up-bringing and education, and I don't think we're doing too shabbily. He's a great kid. To be sure, the road hasn't been rock-free, but the trip is very much worth it.

And the seasons, they go 'round and 'round,
and the painted ponies go up and down.
We're captive on the carousel of time.
We can't return; we can only look behind from where we came,
And go 'round and 'round and 'round in the circle game.  (Joni Mitchell)

Sticks and Stones

It is a sad fact, but insults are a common part of life nowadays. Just listen to election campaign rhetoric, a Jerry Springer episode, or an Eminem song. Everyone has heard insults at some point.  Those of us who are part of a marginalized group have heard them a lot, often directly. That hurts, to be sure, but when it is a lovely human with a kind heart who is unfairly castigated, the sting is even sharper.

I was directed today toward a post in the blog of Andrew Bolt, a right-wing conservative writer for the Herald Sun. Bolt's long-standing views opposing the historical veracity of Australia's stolen generation are hard to swallow. His comments in this particular post, in which he lambastes our friend, Larissa Behrendt, for choosing the name "Mr Howard" for a villain in her award-winning book, Home, are no less bitter. It is, however, the dozens of vitriolic comments that the blog post inspired that are profoundly troubling. The disparaging comments about Dr Behrendt largely have to do with her looks, specifically that she is too white to be an Indigenous Australian and, therefore, knows little about or has little right to discuss the subject matter contained in her book. The comments, some of which are from self-identified Aborigines themselves, reek of a kind of racial hatred I haven't seen since I left the States. There are laws in Australia that prohibit racial discrimination and hatred. I wonder if they might not apply here. At any rate, Dr Behrendt is a good friend of ours, and I respect her work in the field of the rights of indigenous peoples immensely. I am sure that she has developed a rather thick skin by now and certainly doesn't need me to defend her. With her dazzling intellect and enviable sense of tact, she will undoubtedly rise well above the detritus littering the Australian social landscape.

Party spoiled

Last night we got kicked out of Azure V, aka the "Harbour Party."  Okay, that was for the sake of drama.  Not only did our party of 8 get kicked out, but all 5000 people, too.  The overwhelming police presence was frightening to encounter as we walked up to the venue in the Royal Botanical Gardens...not to mention watching a guy get strip searched and sniffed over by police dogs.  Apparently, a few dozen police with dogs raided one end of the dance floor and began searching and sniffing folks.  After about 26 arrests, they contacted a local magistrate and obtained permission to shut down the party.  At 9pm, the music came to an abrupt stop, floodlights were turned on, and an announcement was made that due to police action, the party had been closed down.  5000 dazed and confused people were ejected from a medically supervised environment and forced to walk through the park and onto the Sydney streets to fend for themselves.  We all went to a local club and hung out for a couple of hours, but the thrill was gone.  Mark and I went home.  I have a feeling we've seen the end of the Harbour Party.  Sigh.

Friday blues

More bad squash today.  (No, not the food...the game.)  But it's only my second go at it.  I guess I shouldn't be too hard, but I'm not feeling very good about myself.

I did, however, have a good couple of lunchtime laps in the Centennial Parklands.  I do love my sexy Mongoose mountain bike, but I really want this road bike.  I miss the ease and speed on the paved roads.

You know, I love our location in Sydney.  Our apartment is in the Waterloo/Moore Park Gardens area. 
We are:

• across the street from the up-and-becoming Danks Street bistro & gallery area;
  
• a two-minute bike ride from Centennial Park;
• a 10-minute walk to Redfern Station (or 18-minute walk to Central Station);
• a five-minute walk to funky Surry Hills (food, food and more food!);
• a 20-minute walk to Oxford Street (for those crazy Saturday nights with our friends);
• two blocks from the Eastern Distributor that links to the Sydney Harbour Tunnel or Bridge;
• an hour's drive away from Wollongong (where Mark's sister lives);
• a 10-minute drive to earthy Newtown (where my favorite cinema is located).

Can you tell I'm trying to cheer myself up?  Ah well, we have the Harbour Party coming up on Sunday, when we get to spend the day grooving to some pretty fantastic music with our beautiful friends.  I'll do my best to be in a better state of mind by then.  Could be tragic otherwise. 

Anyway, maybe I'll try and set up some kind of virtual tour of my surroundings at some point.  I'll investigate that.

Terse words and worse

Nah nah nah nah nah nah.

Come on Democratic Presidential wannabees!  Is this really how you want to start off?  Good grief!  Let Geffen say what he wants.  Senator Clinton and her advisers should tighten their seatbelts; it's going to get bumpier.  Obama himself might agree not to fling poo, but those who orchestrate campaigns do so by thriving on rancor and negativity.  And is it any wonder that it's come to this, considering we're securely in the Age of Feckless Drama, fueled by a preoccupation with celebrity status, commercialism and reality TV?  That said, I'll be the first to admit that we could all use a little escape, what with the War of Western Aggression constantly in the back of everyone's mind.  As I write this post, I'm watching late-night Sydney news as it shows footage of the local police hammering anti-war protesters trying their best to send a message to visiting Vice-President Cheney.  He arrived in Sydney tonight for a hugfest with the Bush administration's pal, John Howard.  [Read: Pleeeease, good buddy, don't take your Aussie troops out of Iraq!]  Amazing.  The police were nowhere to be found when we needed their assistance Tuesday night after the visiting Queens caused massive gridlock in downtown Sydney.  (It took an ambulance one hour to travel the mere couple of kilometers from Sydney Hospital to the Opera House, where a woman was suffering anaphylactic shock.)  But they're there now, just a mile or so from where I sit typing, tossing protesters into the back of paddy wagons for attempting to walk down the street while sporting their homemade pickets.  But I digress.  I hope Hillary and Barack, and their respective campaign officials, find a way to cool their heels and work toward that which will make the U.S. a bit less dysfunctional.

Hey, cool.  Gay hip-hop artist, Deadlee, wants to disempower hate-criminals by taking back the F word.  No, not that one!  This one.  Want to see more?  Click here.

Pair of Queens

Yesterday, Mark, Zane and I arose at the crack of Jesus and trundled down to Mrs Macquarie's Point (Aboriginal name = Yurong) to view the arrival of the world's largest passenger ship, the Queen Mary II, at Sydney Harbour.  All I can say is Holy Cow, that's one big ship!  It is too big, in fact, to dock at Circular Quay, which is where most cruise ships dock in Sydney Harbour.  Instead, she docked at Garden Island (naval base), next to Woolloomooloo.  (Imagine Russell Crowe's surprise when he awoke to find a ship larger than his entire tony condo complex floating outside his windows.)

View of the Sydney Opera House from Mrs Macquarie's Point, 20 Feb 07, 5:30am

Here she comes.

Oh my God, she's HUGE!

A bit of perspective as she backs up to the Harbour Bridge, positioning herself for entry into Wolloomooloo Bay. 

Later in the day, we packed a picnic dinner, retrieved Zane from school and headed back to the same place to watch Mary's smaller sister ship, the Queen Elizabeth II, join her sibling in Sydney.  Although no slouch in her own right, the QEII certainly seems like the runt of the litter compared to her much younger, gi-normouser sister.  There certainly was much pomp and circumstance, including a pretty amazing fireworks display.  A historic moment, this was the first time two Cunard Queens have met in Sydney Harbour since World War II, when the QMI and QEI were both conscripted into service to secretly carry Australian and New Zealand soldiers across the sea to the UK.

Lizzie sails into the Harbour.

Sailing by the Harbour Bridge as she backs into Circular Quay.

Zane does a little homework while we wait for sundown and fireworks.

Kaboom!

We're getting to know Mrs Macquarie's Point fairly well this week.  Mark and I will head back there on Sunday with our dear friends, Dean & Brad and others, to enjoy Azure, (aka, "Harbour Party").  Should be great!

Romance unsaid, not dead

Mating in Captivity by Esther Perel will be published in Australia soon.  (I know; it's yesterday's news in the U.S., but we get everything non-Australian very late...and often at twice the price.)  This book caused quite an uproar when it was published late last year in the U.S.  While its target audience is, presumably from the image on the cover and from what I've read about it and Ms Perel, Western heterosexual couples, it is nevertheless very intriguing.  Aside from the immediate, vaguely prurient notion of bringing "The Third" into a relationship [sidebar: she does NOT promulgate infidelity], there are other juicy ideas presented.  The one that I find particularly interesting is the notion that couples can be too close in some ways.  (Paraphrase alert!)  Revealing every niggling detail about a person's day, such as activities, phone calls, e-mails, meals, etc., can be cloying and reduce intimacy.  We must maintain a little secrecy ("distance") in our lives, in order to keep from smothering the embers of true intimacy, romance and desire.  What do you think?

Here's an interview with Ms Perel by Brian Lehrer of New York Public Radio:

And now, from the Vault of Strange Advertising:

How are you holding up?

Blech

Bitch of a weekend.

Fair Day was so not happening for me...or Roger.  Cheesy dog shows, lousy sound systems, drag queens in melting make-up, and booths facing each other in such close proximity that the paths were often barely big enough for two people to pass.  And God forbid you should want to stop and have a look at the vendors' booths.  You'd get trampled by the thousands of sun-drunk (and other-drunk) folks loping about.  Didn't see Mark at all.  He was busy with rugby stuff.  Their season has started up...I'll see very little of him on weekends.  Blah.

But then, maybe it was the crap game of squash I had first thing in the day that set the tone.  I thought sport was supposed to be a stress reliever.

Reiteration

Yes, I know I've alluded to this already, but I can't help it.  As much as I like Ms Hudson, you have to see this.  In my book, the comparison is hands down in favor of Ms Holliday.  (This clip is a live performance during the 1982 Tony Awards.)

Oh, and here's a fun dancetrack, too.

Animalia

Can I just say how much I love this?  (Thanks, Homer).

(There's more of Chris here.)

Speaking of cute animals, Mardi Gras Fair Day is Saturday! 
Men, mongrels and music...woohoo!
Roger and I will be heading to the park for some fun-n-games. 
No, I'm not dressing us up the same...ever. 
I might be absurdly gay, but I'm not gaily absurd.