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Jan. 10th, 2005 07:16 pm"It would be churlish not to concede that the same abundance of natural blessings which gave us the energy to leave has every right to call us back." - Clive James
The above is from a plaque on Writer's Walk. This is perhaps my favourite of all the quotes, and perhaps the most accurate in explaining, ultimately, why I came here -- it captures something about my perception of the national character of Australia and the lack of a fortress mentality that America has long had and has cleaved to much more tightly of late -- simply put, Americans can not help but live in the shadow of ownership, and perhaps our so matieral culture is a natural descendent of our group ownership in the idea of America. By contrast, Australians seem, if not content, then at least resigned to the idea that their country, or its land, owns them.
One thing that would strike any American here is the prevalence of recycling -- not bottles and cans, but objects. Thrift stores are "Op shops," that is "opportunity shops" and exist with a prevalence in a wide range of neighborhoods that is foreign to us. And while many Australians lament the commercial and disposable nature of the culture here, to an American, the constant repurposing of objects, community minded posters that show you where the water in your particular rain gutters flows to (so don't pollute), and the far more minimalistic packaging at grocery shops is astounding, kind and good, and I fear, perhaps even quaint. "Shabby chic" isn't a fashion here, nor even a way of life... it's just a matter of fact, bred out of a number of things including environmental consciousness and the simple expense of receiving goods from abroad.
I know I am crazily behind on posting and talking about things... I still need to do a less hysterical report on Flickerfest including reviews of all the films (which ranged from good to wonderful -- if you ever get a chance to see The Scree you must must must must), as well as update on things from acting class (with reports on my directorial insanity (actually, I phrase this that way because it's something I'm good at but don't want to do, but I'm really really happy with my work in that regard, sort of madly, and I wonder if I would be any good at it if it were a piece I wasn't in, and if it would do anything for me -- I mean other than give me a nervous breakdown) and the semi-absurd fact that since the NIDA costume department is closed (as is the library, damn them, although I'm working on that) I'm wearing the dress I bought for the opera as Lady Macbeth).
Meanwhile, going to The Lazy Kings momentarily, and have a ticket to the Australian premiere of The Eternity Man (first night, just as I wanted, very pleased). We have the Three Furies performance Thursday or Friday and I'll probably go to some outdoor cinema next week. I think I've told you all that twice by now. And I did finally order the picture of Minnie Tittel Brune, which will have to be shipped to me in America since the printer is on vacation until the end of this month, but they've agreed to do it for a reasonable fee and so sometime in mid-February I should have this great 1906 (sorry, got the year wrong the other night) hanging on my wall.
And finally it's supposed to get hot this week, I should think.... it's been bloody freezing here. Annoyingly so.
Dear Sucky People at the Youth Hostel,
If you're going to vacation with your significant other and insist on staying in a hostel dorm, recognize that it's really rude to have sex when the rest of us are trying to sleep, and that if you succeed in shaking me out of the top bunk, I will kill you.
Thanks.
Am completely in love with Darlinghurst. I've started wandering the side streets for no good reason other than it's ease, the sort New York doesn't really have, but Washington DC does, at night, by the monuments.
Finally, I find myself telling more truthful versions of why I am here (people overhear my accent talking to friends in the NIDA lobby and tend to wander over):
"Well, I had a whim."
"What sort of whim?"
"The one that involves warm weather and heightened realities."
"Sorry about the cold then."
"Yeah."
I love this convo, it makes me howl with laughter. And yes it is supposed to be summer here. But it's debateable. I'm quite golden anyway.
I've taken a love to lemon soda here -- it's not as carbonated as in teh states and very tart and I'm quite keen on it. Tonight I had some at the BBQ and people laughed at me. "Only men drink that usually," they told me. How much would we mock a man in the States for drinking such a thing?
Random weird street moments:
Written in chalk on the sidewalk in front of a courthouse in Darlinghurst:
BEN, PLEAD NOT-GUILTY
A hunched-over Asian man approaches me in Newtown and says in a thick accent:
"Do you know where a dance school here?"
An older man outside of NIDA:
"Can they teach me to make movies here? Tell me, tell me."
On a final bizarre note, Alexander is opening here any day now and the Australians are just crazed by how bad it is. For not only are there wretched reviews of the thing, it's also been the subject of nasty editorials and news stories in a range of sections of the newspapers. Having mainly recovered from my horror over the thing, it's sort of a vindicating pleasure to see people as enraged by it as I was.
The above is from a plaque on Writer's Walk. This is perhaps my favourite of all the quotes, and perhaps the most accurate in explaining, ultimately, why I came here -- it captures something about my perception of the national character of Australia and the lack of a fortress mentality that America has long had and has cleaved to much more tightly of late -- simply put, Americans can not help but live in the shadow of ownership, and perhaps our so matieral culture is a natural descendent of our group ownership in the idea of America. By contrast, Australians seem, if not content, then at least resigned to the idea that their country, or its land, owns them.
One thing that would strike any American here is the prevalence of recycling -- not bottles and cans, but objects. Thrift stores are "Op shops," that is "opportunity shops" and exist with a prevalence in a wide range of neighborhoods that is foreign to us. And while many Australians lament the commercial and disposable nature of the culture here, to an American, the constant repurposing of objects, community minded posters that show you where the water in your particular rain gutters flows to (so don't pollute), and the far more minimalistic packaging at grocery shops is astounding, kind and good, and I fear, perhaps even quaint. "Shabby chic" isn't a fashion here, nor even a way of life... it's just a matter of fact, bred out of a number of things including environmental consciousness and the simple expense of receiving goods from abroad.
I know I am crazily behind on posting and talking about things... I still need to do a less hysterical report on Flickerfest including reviews of all the films (which ranged from good to wonderful -- if you ever get a chance to see The Scree you must must must must), as well as update on things from acting class (with reports on my directorial insanity (actually, I phrase this that way because it's something I'm good at but don't want to do, but I'm really really happy with my work in that regard, sort of madly, and I wonder if I would be any good at it if it were a piece I wasn't in, and if it would do anything for me -- I mean other than give me a nervous breakdown) and the semi-absurd fact that since the NIDA costume department is closed (as is the library, damn them, although I'm working on that) I'm wearing the dress I bought for the opera as Lady Macbeth).
Meanwhile, going to The Lazy Kings momentarily, and have a ticket to the Australian premiere of The Eternity Man (first night, just as I wanted, very pleased). We have the Three Furies performance Thursday or Friday and I'll probably go to some outdoor cinema next week. I think I've told you all that twice by now. And I did finally order the picture of Minnie Tittel Brune, which will have to be shipped to me in America since the printer is on vacation until the end of this month, but they've agreed to do it for a reasonable fee and so sometime in mid-February I should have this great 1906 (sorry, got the year wrong the other night) hanging on my wall.
And finally it's supposed to get hot this week, I should think.... it's been bloody freezing here. Annoyingly so.
Dear Sucky People at the Youth Hostel,
If you're going to vacation with your significant other and insist on staying in a hostel dorm, recognize that it's really rude to have sex when the rest of us are trying to sleep, and that if you succeed in shaking me out of the top bunk, I will kill you.
Thanks.
Am completely in love with Darlinghurst. I've started wandering the side streets for no good reason other than it's ease, the sort New York doesn't really have, but Washington DC does, at night, by the monuments.
Finally, I find myself telling more truthful versions of why I am here (people overhear my accent talking to friends in the NIDA lobby and tend to wander over):
"Well, I had a whim."
"What sort of whim?"
"The one that involves warm weather and heightened realities."
"Sorry about the cold then."
"Yeah."
I love this convo, it makes me howl with laughter. And yes it is supposed to be summer here. But it's debateable. I'm quite golden anyway.
I've taken a love to lemon soda here -- it's not as carbonated as in teh states and very tart and I'm quite keen on it. Tonight I had some at the BBQ and people laughed at me. "Only men drink that usually," they told me. How much would we mock a man in the States for drinking such a thing?
Random weird street moments:
Written in chalk on the sidewalk in front of a courthouse in Darlinghurst:
BEN, PLEAD NOT-GUILTY
A hunched-over Asian man approaches me in Newtown and says in a thick accent:
"Do you know where a dance school here?"
An older man outside of NIDA:
"Can they teach me to make movies here? Tell me, tell me."
On a final bizarre note, Alexander is opening here any day now and the Australians are just crazed by how bad it is. For not only are there wretched reviews of the thing, it's also been the subject of nasty editorials and news stories in a range of sections of the newspapers. Having mainly recovered from my horror over the thing, it's sort of a vindicating pleasure to see people as enraged by it as I was.
