The Banal Chew

Big Moon over Tepee

Last night's total lunar eclipse was, er, totally spectacular.  Apparently there were picnics, that is "eclipnics," happening at parks all over Sydney.  We decided to grill some food and have our own private viewing event.  Unfortunately, the moon was on the wrong side of the building to make our back patio a suitable place to see the eclipse, but the tiny, 3rd-floor balcony off our master bedroom worked out very well.

It was great fun to share it with Zane.  And when we got bored waiting and watching, there was always the camera to have fun with.

In other news, we set up our anniversary present today.  I must say, Tiger Woods PGA Tour '07 for Wii looks pretty sensational on a 37" LCD screen.  And through the home cinema system, my Pink I'm Not Dead Tour DVD is heaven.  Now I can watch the encore over and over....

 

Cogitation Tuesday

Another married Republican politician gets busted looking for love (as it were) in the wrong place. 

This happened a couple of months ago, but U.S. Senator Larry E. Craig has now pleaded guilty.  According to the cop who busted Craig for lewd conduct in a Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport restroom, the clincher was not the fact that after a soft-shoe number that would have made Fred Astaire blush, the two men's shoes were eventually touching under the stall partition (which, according to Craig, was due to the wide stance he takes to do a poo), but that Craig began making "swiping motions" with his hand under the stall.  Hmm, swiping motions, wiping motions...no, surely there's no confusion there.  But all of this came after Craig had stalked the policeman for a couple of minutes, peering through the door crack to get a view of the crack potential delights perched within.  So after Craig's hand-jive, the cop finally felt compelled to show his badge under the stall.  [cue sound effect: descending slide whistle]

So what makes you cringe even more? 

• That police continue to use underhanded (mwahaha!) sting methods to arrest guys for hooking up in toilets;
• The sad truth that, although we have come a long way, many closeted men remain stuck in the past when homosexuality was considered pathologic and illegal and gays had little choice than to have sex in places that could get them in trouble;
• The thought of the look on the faces of Craig's family members when they found out their husband/dad/papa/uncle had been caught like George Michael;
• That Craig was asked to come out in 2006 but flatly refuted that he was gay, stating the accusations had "no basis in fact"; 
• The way this reflects on gay men in general?

I wonder what Craig will do now.  Maybe he'll come out, shed the Stafford suits, move to Palm Springs and open up a commune for aging, oppressed T-room queens. 

Affable YouTube Monday...

is back.

I tried this at my gym this morning. I didn't get nearly the same reaction.

Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Pas de quatre from Swan Lake. Let's draw a comparison!

American Ballet Theatre

Matthew Bourne

Four

Today is our fourth anniversary.  Here's what iVillage recommends we do to celebrate.   

• Have flowers or a fruit basket delivered
• Make a garland of flowers and wear just that for each other
• Share a bubble bath and light the room with floral-scented candles
• Sprinkle rose petals all over our bed
• Share a delicious fruity cocktail

What type of fruity cocktail would you suggest?  Now it's gotta be delicious.

Funny Bone Needs Tickling

Whenever I need

• to laugh,
• to expel some angst,
• to groove,

I watch this.

My Horse for a Kingdom

Being nomadic has a price with many facets.  It's one, however, that I've always been willing to pay.  That's partly because I am happy exploring, partly because I've moved where the opportunities have taken me for study or career, and also to enjoy my life in the company of a loving partner.

Australia is the fourth country in which I have lived.  (The others are the U.S., Canada and The Netherlands.)  Being an itinerant musician makes for a hectic, transient existence.  In my mid-40s, life has all but slowed down, but I do find that I'm still migratory.  Despite that, today I gained a sense of belonging that I had not experienced for a long time. 

You see, yesterday I received official notice that my Australian permanent residency visa had been granted.  This was a hurdle that Mark and I have been longing to jump.  Today we exuberantly did just that.  After dropping Zane off at school, we immediately went to the Sydney office of the Department of Immigration and Citizenship to have the visa pasted in my passport.

Walking through the tunnel that cuts under the massive railworks of Sydney's Central Station. 

Nearly there.

Two years and a substantial amount of debt later, all for a sticky label sent through a dot-matrix printer.  I'm not complaining, however.  I think the smile says it all. 

Laughin' at Clouds

So Kevin Rudd got his jollies at a sleazy titty bar in Manhattan.  Big woop.  There he was, four years ago, in the Big Apple...a coddled, inebriated, middle-aged, straight man surrounded by other middle-aged drunk straight men who tied one on and felt like a lap dance to relieve the soul-crushing boredom of conservative Australian politics.  Can you blame him?  Now I don't like Rudd for many reasons, but sporting a woody while watching fleshy women snake around a metal pole isn't one of them.  It's not how I would spend an evening in New York, but that's rather obvious, all things considered.  No, I'd rather focus on his inept political stances than his need for release when it comes to criticism.  Yes, I'm all for anyone but Howard, but this man?

There were no lap dances at our house this weekend, although with all the rain I did have a Don Lockwood moment while steppin' about the town.  Hmm...twirling about a light post.  I guess that qualifies as a pole dance in its own way.  Mark didn't seem to find it too sexy, but he did buy me lunch. 

I really love the look of the ocean during a hard rain.  Here's our view from the window of Jenny's Cafe in Bronte, where we sat while having lunch yesterday. 

Kiwi Love

Kiwi is a blue Scottish Fold/British Shorthair mix. 

Boy, is she ever blue, especially with my new phone's camera.

A few months after I moved to Australia, Mark and I were musing one day over the idea of having a cat.  Since I had known Mark, he had always been vociferously anti-feline, harboring fierce disapproval of feral and freely roaming domesticated cats, primarily due to their reputation for decimating native bird populations and being a general nuisance.  I, on the other hand, have pretty much always had cats sharing my house.  As an itinerant musician, they seemed the perfect company.  After I left my last cat behind in Vermont, I was relatively happy to have a break from scooping litter boxes and dehairing just about everything I owned.  Then we got Roger, our spiffy Schnauzer, as a Christmas present and all the energy I had for pet guardianship was sapped. 

Anyway, that day, when Mark and I were discussing cats and what it was like to have one, he mentioned that if he were ever to have a cat, he'd want a Scottish Fold.  You could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather.  I told him that I, too, had always wanted a Scottish Fold, ever since I was a youngster and saw a picture of them in a cat encyclopedia.  Cut to the chase: that day, we found a local breeder who just happened to have two Folds, both retired show cats, up for adoption.  We scheduled an appointment to make the hour journey to the Southern Highlands, and within a week we came home with not one, but two wonderful, round-headed creatures.

As we left the breeder's house, she gave us a big pink envelope and said it contained their medical records and other papers.  During the drive back home, I had a look at the contents, and I was astounded to find a number of ribbons that they had won at various cat shows.  Kiwi had even won Best ribbons at the Sydney Royal Easter Show!  Who knew?  We certainly didn't.

When we first adopted her, Kiwi wouldn't let anyone come near her.  While she is still very skittish, (especially of noisy 9-year-olds), she has warmed up considerably.  And like all good kitties, one of her favorite places is my tummy at night.

What's a home without a princess or two?

A Young, Important Voice

Have a look at this.  It is powerful and amazing.

They got that party started

...and we all had a swell time.  Stevie is now 30, and the rest of us are missing a few (more) brain cells.  I made the discovery that Stella Artois gets me just as hammered as Toohey's New.  Sigh.

(Yes, it was a Mad Hatter's theme.)  Photo courtesy of Gabe.

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Earlier on Saturday I met up with Michael, a fellow Sydney blogger, for a beer at the Imperial.  We had met only briefly at the Sydney Blogger Meetup a few weeks ago and decided to get together again when we had more time to visit.  He's a very interesting person, and a joy to get to know.  I encourage you to read this beautiful post on his blog.  His situation is quite special...and wonderful to hear about.  Man, I love how diverse we all are.

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If anyone can tell me what is up with this, I'd really appreciate it. 

I saw the television commercial last night.  My guess is that it's part of a woefully tacky serial ad campaign for beer, kind of like the Taster's Choice advertising approach for hoons.  Scouting around their website leads me to believe that all will be revealed on 2 September.  Only in Australia.

This just in...

I don't normally do double-posts, but I feel obligated to mention Visible Vote '08, a history-making, televised forum that took place last night to provide the gay/lesbian community an opportunity to ask U.S. Democratic presidential wannabes their opinions on various, important matters. 

Apparently, Bill Richardson painted himself into a corner (and worked his staff into a lather) when trying inadequately to answer whether he feels homosexuality is a choice or something biologically inherent. He didn't do well, and his camp are now scrambling like hungry ants to smooth the situation.

Aside from that, there were really no surprises from what I gather.  All statements made by the candidates were very much in keeping with their previous stances on the issues.  I think some members of the G/L community were sincerely hoping that at least one would finally come out in defense of marriage equality.  (Kucinich and Gravel already support gay marriage, but let's face it, they're not really frontrunners at this point.)  None did. 

What do I think?  I think that even though it pretty much went as everyone expected, with the exception of the Richardson debacle, this was still a big deal.  While it may be seen as preaching to the choir, the fact that the candidates are recognizing the importance and power of the gay/lesbian vote is a leap forward from previous years.  Let's hope it continues.  Moreover, let's hope that the final nominee remembers her/his statements and doesn't allow us to, once again, "get thrown under the bus."

Flashback Friday

Seven things I used to eat and drink as a kid: 

1. Creamy peanut butter and raw oats, on crackers;
2. Butter and Karo syrup, on toast;
3. Strawberry Nesquik, exclusively;
4. Uncooked pasta, preferably macaroni;
5. Jungle Juice, the fruit drink from a carton;
6. Woolworth's french fries, when out with friends;
7. Milk-bone dog biscuits, secretly in the laundry room.

 

What was your favorite snack?

M R Ducks

It's a busy day and I've not much time for composition.  I'll leave it with a few snaps from this morning's walk with Roger in Sydney Park. 

Roger tries his best to mark every single tree in the park.

As I've said in earlier posts, Sydney Park is a former brickworks that has been converted into a massive (leash-free) greenspace.  It also has three ponds that are designated wetlands. 

I had a great photo of a moorhen lined up, but Roger chased her away before I could click.  So here are some ducks, which always deserve a bit of appreciation, too.

There are always butts to sniff at Sydney Park.  Always.

That's the Alan Davidson Oval in the background.  It's used for cricket [snore] and for Australian Football (aka AFL) while cricket is off season.  This oval is home of the Newtown Swans, a footy club for the little ones.   

Time to go home. 

Our environs

Did someone say it was winter in the Southern Hemisphere? 

21 degrees Celsius today.  (That's 73F for us Yankees.)  Forecast is 19C to 23C for the rest of the week.  I'm so sick with spring fever right now I could vomit while I frolic.

I met up with a choral conducting colleague this morning for a chat and coffee.  Looks like I might have a smidge of work in the future.  More on that later as the situation develops and solidifies.  The weather was, as I've alluded to, blissful.  I took advantage thereof and walked to the cafe in Chippendale for our meeting, passing through historic, troubled Redfern on the way.  Many people flash me a worried look when I tell them I walk in that area.  I then tell them I lived in the eastern area of DC for five years.  Little scares me now.  Besides, the "projects" here aren't exactly what they are in the States.  (Dora says, "Can you say 'gun control?'  Bueno!")

I remember when we first looked at our townhouse in Waterloo, a neighboring village of Redfern, and one which possesses its own degree of social infamy.  We are one block away from three massive "housing commission" towers.  When I heard we were thinking of a place next door to the projects, I have to admit I wasn't too happy.  Then I saw them.  They're really not so bad.  Sure, they're an eyesore, kind of like 1960s college dorms on acid, but I am far from afraid when I walk around the neighborhood.  I hear there are muggings that occur around the Redfern train station, about a 12-minute walk from our place.  But like any wise city-dweller, I simply avoid that area after dark.  During the day, it's teeming with people of all shapes, sizes, colors and varying states of sobreity.  I much prefer that to the sterile, achromatic environs elsewhere in Sydney.  And anyway, I'm much more unsettled by the presence of this place, merely a block away from our home, than any public housing tower around us.

And besides, who wouldn't want to live a couple of blocks from a shop called this?

Sunday, Bloody Mary Sunday

What a gorgeous Sunday it was.  (And today's not bad either.) 

I was treated to my first Sunday Session.  Can you believe I've been here two years now and had never experienced this Aussie tradition?  Oh, the joys of being dads.  Ah well, it certainly keeps us on the straight and narrow.  P the P.

Zane was way out West visiting his grandmother and cousins, so Mark and I convinced Alison and Ian to finish their Sydney cultural sightseeing early.  We plucked them from Circular Quay mid-afternoon and whisked them off to the Tilbury Hotel.  I really like this pub, although I agree with Ian that a bit of grime here and there wouldn't hurt.  It's a little clinical, but overall tastefully refurbished.  And the huge amount of outdoor seating is a definite selling point. 

My handsome husband is so silly sometimes, especially at a Sunday session.  (Sorry; I couldn't pass up the alliterative opportunity.)

Alison is a very caring listener.

After the Tilbury, we decided on a change of venue and headed to the Dolphin Hotel in Surry Hills.  It's another great pub.  The Build-Your-Own Bloody Mary was a pleasant surprise.  I made mine extra spicy, in honor of my former life in Tucson.  Ai papi!

The Dolphin Hotel on Crown Street.  Any place with "rugby action" is okay by me.

Mark and I are traveling to Melbourne over the "APEC Holiday" in a few weeks.  It will be Alison and Ian's turn to introduce us to some good Melbourne hang-outs.  I really like Melbourne, having spent a week there about a year and a half ago, and can't wait to explore!

Men and their toys

I have a new one.

Flashforward Friday

The sky is gray and grizzly.  Far in the distance, silent lightning can be seen granting a strange iridescence to massive clouds.  A kind breeze, warm and damp, dances about his face as he navigates the rocky hillside overlooking the lake.  It is hard to say with persistence, but this is his favorite place, this craggy, comfortable ridge.  It is not only the view that makes it so.  His friends, the grasshoppers, are there, too, leaping jubilantly ahead of him in their wild, dazzling choreography, announcing his arrival as he leaves the ridge and works his way through the grassy meadow.  The mockingbirds trumpet their multi-lingual greetings. The buttercups nod the usual curt, bashful welcomes, while the ox-eyed daisies gaze in their state of frozen bewilderment.  Winking erratically, the squirrels take only covert notice and continue, unthreatened, with their daily chores.

Ahead, standing proudly in its ancient glory on the opposite ridge is the tree...his tree, the colossal white oak with many laps.  With great respect he watches the tree become increasingly magnificent with each step toward it.  How many times had he found comfort in its shade, solace in its wordless company, courage in its immutable strength?  What would he find today?

As he hikes he takes notice, once again, of the microcosm surrounding him on this abandoned knoll.  It is beautiful, intoxicating and undeserved.  Aware of his intrusion, he mutters quiet, genuine offerings of gratitude to the many occupants of this small, happy world.  Later, he would share with them tales about the many things he had seen and the places he had lived. 

Reaching the oak, he stretches and nestles himself into a nook made by a cleft in the tree's massive trunk.  In the bright faces of the delicate tickseed blossoms all around him, he can see his family, friends and acquaintances.  Some are smiling at him; some are not.  Many are going about their business, unaware of his presence.  He knows of theirs, however, and is happy they are here with him at this moment.  With a profound sigh, he leans back into the tree's shelter, closes his eyes and drifts into the mellow embrace of sleep.

It's finally happened...

...I'm having a hard time keeping up. 

I am loving the blogginz aspect of my life. Truly.  I have connected with a crew of wonderful people in the blogosphere, and I look forward to fostering those acquaintances and friendships at whatever level they may take. 

On the other hand, however, blogging has introduced me to a few other new media initiatives, and I now find myself at odds trying to juggle everything.  I think there is an ABC After-(adult-education)-School Movie in the making: I was a middle-aged Facebook junkie, or something like that.  Honestly, how do folks do it? 

One thing that this has done, however, is reconnect me with all kinds of people...some going way back.  Included are schoolmates, friends, family, teachers, colleagues, etc.  That can only be a good thing. 

There is another particularly happy by-product of this foray into new media.  It has served as a much-needed catalyst for me to resume networking in my field.  Because settling in Sydney as a migrant from a country that, let's face it, isn't all that popular right now has occupied so much of my attention, I have put a few projects on the back burner. 

In addition, various events over the past few weeks have caused me to realize that I am also sitting in neutral in other ways. There have been upheavals, both at home and in friendships.  As a consequence, I realize that certain things need to change, or at least to evolve.  I am, in a way, reinvigorated. 

No doubt there will be future posts about upcoming endeavors.  At any rate, I shall certainly continue with my blog, but the posts may (or may not) be reduced to as few as two or three a week.  I hope not, but I suppose we shall see!

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ps -- TBC is now 6 months old!  Sing me a song, please.