Thursday, January 31, 2008

No Film For Old Men

Having been staying in Melbourne since Monday night for work, coming home tonight I dropped into Fountain Gate for tea, and decided to check out the movies whilst there. By a most improbable circumstance, No Country For Old Men was starting in 8 minutes. This was quite the boon for me because:
(a) I wanted to see it;
(b) 8 minutes is not a long time to wait; and
(c) I'd been told it wouldn't be coming to the local cinema.

So, I bought me a ticket and proceeded to cinema 4. And quite a delightful cinema it was too - large comfortable seats - huge screen - plenty of legroom - steep - a notable absence of rowdy teenagers.

Having sat through the mandatory softdrink and alcohol advertisements, we got to the good bit - previews of films which have not yet been classified by the Office of Film and Literature Classification. In this case - Rambo. And then ....

Nothing.

The entire shopping centre lost power, and with the price of petrol these days, I guess generators are just not a viable option. So, after taking advantage of the comfortable seating for a short nap - or "kip" if you will - I collected quite a fetching pair of matching complimentary tickets (not quite Wonka golden tickets, but still there was two of them so that's not to be sneezed at, lest they catch a cold) and continued on my merry way home.

And lived happily ever after.

The End.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

What am I reading?

I thought I'd add a new section to my blog for what I'm currently reading. The first thing to note here is that I always have a minimum of two books on the go - one for bed and one for the toilet.

What?

Too much information?

This is my blog and we'll play by my rules thank you very much!

So what are these books and why am I reading them?

Atlas Shrugged is a book I bought myself for Christmas. I even wrapped it up and put it under the tree until Christmas Day! Again, my blog, my rules!

I have been meaning to read some Ayn Rand for about 20 years now. As a teenager I was a big fan of Canadian rock trio Rush (did I just write "Canadian rock trio"? What am I, a music journalist?). Neil Peart, drummer and lyricist for the band, often quoted Ayn Rand as a significant influence (or possibly ONCE quoted Ayn Rand as an influence and had it repeated in articles ever after). Anyway, this was the first time in my life I've actually noticed an Ayn Rand book in a book shop, and so I bought it, and so far I'm enjoying it (so far being page 169 of 1069). The book has a strong philosophical subtext, which, looking at the reviews on Amazon.com, seems to have polarised many readers.

Interestingly, in searching for a link to the book, I found on imdb.com (for the uninitiated, that would be the international movie database) that there is a film version currently in production starring Angelina Jolie. What a most amazing coincidence.

The other book I'm reading at the moment, the toilet book, is a hardcover I inherited from my grandfather some years ago and only recently pulled off the shelf for the first time. As the title suggests, it's a collection of Australian folklore, along with some commentary.

Bye for now.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Caricatures

Just as I'm currently very gung-ho about having a blog, for a period last year I was similarly gung-ho about trying to draw caricatures. I thought I'd post a few of my favourites in here.













The Police - in concert no less

I saw The Police last night at the MCG. The ticket was a birthday present from mum, and by the most remarkable of coincidences my seat was exactly next to my brother's seat, even though he got his ticket from mum for his birthday which is like a month after mine.

Spooky.

Actually, it's lucky we weren't wearing matching shirts, which I'm sure we would also have received for our respective birthdays - such is the madness of the modern mother.

I was camping in Seaspray with the family for the Australia Day long weekend, so headed off from there after lunch, took care of a few jobs around the house (feeding animals, napping on couch etc), then picked Danny up from a naturalisation shindig for Declan, the local ex-Irish bar-keep.

Appalling traffic once we hit the city - what with Australia Day celebrations, the Australian Open women's singles final (isn't it great that they have a final just for single women), and of course 40-odd thousand people making their way to the Police concert.

The Police were supported by Fergie (Jesamine's favourite singer), which I maintain is a pretty odd choice - but she looks great so what the hey!

I've often wondered what an artist with very little material does in a concert, and now I know - covers, and medleys of other covers. She had an excellent backing band, and some cool dancers.

Our seats were so far from the action that we were actually in a dimension theorised by physicists solely for the purposes of reconciling quantum mechanics with general relativity and for cramming more people into concert venues.

On a positive note, we had a good view of the screens, and being at the back of the stadium we only hear the music once - unlike those in the middle who hear it first a half second before us, and again a half second after as it echos off the stands.

Pretentious wanker he may be, but Sting remains a phenomenal musician. His voice was superb, and his bass playing effortlessly precise. Stewart Copeland was also fantastic, and reminded me why he was so revered amongst the percussive fraternity in the eighties (that is to say, in the the nineteen-eighties, not just amongst octogenarian drummers).

You know you're witnessing an eighties revival when the drummer sits in front of a gong. It's a big bastard to carry around, and to be honest, there's not a lot of call for gong-work in most songs.

A source close to the band reported this exchange from 1984 ...

Stewart: Hey Sting, I bought I gong, wanna hear it?

Sting: What the fuck for?

Stewart: Well, every other drummer has one, and they ... well ... not to put too fine a point on it ... rock! I thought I might use it on Roxanne ...

Sting: No!

Stewart: Message in a Bottle?

Sting: No!

Stewart: Even if I hit it really quiet?

Sting: What?

Stewart: Look, me and Andy don't complain when you sing "yo-yo-yo" in every bloody song.

Sting: Oh for fuck's sake. Okay. At the end of Synchronicity II you can hit your bloody gong then.

Stewart: Sting ...

Sting: Yes?

Stewart: It's really heavy. Can you help me carry it?

Sting: Right! That's it! I'm fed up! This bands over!

Anyway, it was a fantastic concert. 4 1/2 stars from me.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Welcome to my blog

Shit!!!

Another nail in the casket that has for so long threatened to inter my barely adequate facade of balanced normality and lay me bare as just another wanker with a blog.

I take temporary refuge in the knowledge that my track record with persistence is less than exemplary. In all probability my blogging efforts will peter out over the coming months (weeks? hours?), and I can get back to my other great hobby - infiltrating the fringes of the human race.

What can you expect in the interim?

I'm glad you asked.

I might post the odd picture, the odd rant, the odd poorly conceived theory on matters of universal importance. I could even post the odd piece of music, though I'm looking at the toolbar and can't see an icon for this ... we'll have to see about that one.

For those of you who take the time to visit, at least you'll have something to tell the grandchildren:
I remember the summer of 2008, when one of the great thinkers of our generation cast his light so brightly into a darkened world. Those were good times. It was an era of brilliant clarity, but alas, this enlightment was cut short in its prime, as the dunces amassed in confederacy to ensure a return to more sober philosophical standings. Oh yes - good times indeed.