Thursday, 1st February, 2007

Back to my blog at last (the ultimate in self-indulgence). The past week has been filled with folk - bodies on mattresses on the floor with dogs squashing in between the sleeping forms, all vying for the best position. There is something special about waking at 3.00 am to drink some water and hearing the sound of all those tails wagging, delighted with me simply because I sat up.

Holly helped me finish my David Hicks banner this morning - it's hanging on the washing line, drying off. "BRING DAVID HOME" it says in black fabric paint on a shocking pink sheet. I didn't think it was necessary to put "HICKS" because obviously anyone who doesn't know who David is by now is not worth bothering about (although I could be mistaken - my father told me that people who didn't know how to hold their knives and forks properly weren't worth bothering about and I have found that not to be true). I thought about David as I was painting - five years in Guantanamo, in solitary confinement, feet chained to the floor, and I meditated upon his suffering as I worked so that what I was doing became an act of devotion. This evening we'll go and put it in place on the footbridge across the Victoria Road, a plea for compassion hanging above seven lanes of relentless traffic.

We all watched Dylan Moran doing stand-up the other night and laughed till we wept. I particularly enjoyed his dire warnings against ever trying to use one's potential. He explained that the door marked "Potential" should remain shut, securely fastened, because if you ever opened that door and tried to use your potential, tried very, very hard and gave it your all, gave it everything you had - the best, the very best that you would be able to achieve would probably be to give up eating cheesy snacks.

The reason I haven't opened that particular door is because I imagine my life would become incredibly busy, just when I've perfected sitting as an art form.

Monday, 22nd January, 2007

The organiser of the annual Big Day Out rock concert has set the cat among the pigeons by suggesting it would be a good idea if those attending the concert in Sydney left their Australian flags at home. He was concerned that the flag would be used as it was in last year's Cronulla riots, as a symbol of racism instead of a symbol of patriotism.

The response from both state and federal government and the RSL has been predictable, everyone competing with one another in the puffed up and indignant stakes: "outrageous", "unbelievable", "the flag is a symbol of national unity and pride", blah, blah, blah. Look, we all know that flags were a symbol of warfare, carried into battle so that warriors knew which side they were on and very sensible, too, considering that in modern warfare with high-tech super-duper everything, killing your allies is par for the course: "Oops! Friendly fire!"

Bill Hicks on flags:

I personally do not believe in burning the flag. It's a personal belief, but I'll tell you something. I think people are overreacting, oh, just a little bit. "Hey, buddy, my daddy died for that flag." Well, I bought mine. Sorry. You know, they sell them at K-Mart for three bucks - you're in, you're out, brand new flag, no violence was necessary. "Hey, buddy, my daddy died in the Korean war for that flag!" What a coincidence - my flag was made in Korea!

and Arundhati Roy:

Flags are bits of coloured cloth that governments use to first, shrink wrap people's brains and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead.

The Big Day Out has traditionally been held on Australia Day but this year it has been brought forward to the day before so as to avoid over-enthusiastic patriotism (thuggery). There is now talk of cancelling it altogether.

Do people really want to take the Australian flag to a rock concert? These affairs used to be attended by 10,000 stoned people enthusiastic for the downfall of government and all authority. What happened? It's very disappointing to know that a rock concert check list now reads: "Grog, drugs ... flag."

Sunday, 21st January, 2007

Temperatures are forecast to reach 40 degrees so happiness today will include taking cold showers and then standing in front of the fan, gently moaning. (Just thought of that joke, "Damn, I got a sweater for Christmas when I really wanted a moaner and groaner").

Sometimes I wish Oz had been settled (I'm being kind, I really mean "invaded and occupied") by the Greeks or Italians or Spanish instead of the Poms. The Mediterranean architecture is so much more suited to the climate here: white stone houses with cool tiled floors; courtyards shaded by olive trees; tables for outdoor eating set beneath canopies of grape vines. And instead of non-smoking, alcohol-free beaches we would have little bars with straw roofs dotted along the sand, musicians playing, people eating, drinking, dancing till dawn, then sitting at the ocean's edge watching the sun come up...

... but The Law puts a stop to all that nonsense. I've discovered that it takes very little to be a law breaker - early one morning I was sitting in a park writing in my journal, my dog asleep at my feet. I looked up through the branches of a flame tree at the cornflower blue sky and had one of those powerful sensations that Maslow called "peak experiences" where one's whole being is suffused with absolute joy for no reason at all. I nearly fainted away at the intensity of the ecstasy which held me in its grip and I closed my eyes, gasping, wanting to hold onto this rapture forever.

When I came to, there was a policeman standing in front of me who told me that I was liable to be fined $50 for not having my dog on a lead.

Saturday, 20th January, 2007

It's too hot to sleep at the moment (and that solitary mosquito knows it) so I'm often up around 5.00 am indulging myself in YouTube, trying not to laugh too loudly and wake up the household. If you haven't seen Catherine Tate as The Translator and feel in need of some humour, she's here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEz2ZDb3eC8 and if you're feeling romantic (not necessarily at 5.00 am), I highly recommend The Pogues 'Rainy Night in Soho':
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GV0ZNxKuJsM (sorry, I still haven't learned how to do those Html tags - sheer laziness).

Laughter and love, the best things in life.

On an unfunny and unloving subject, Australian citizen, David Hicks, is still incarcerated in Guantanamo Bay, over five years since his capture by the Northern Alliance in Afghanistan. The government refuses to obtain his release and return him as there are no charges for him to answer under Australian law and he would have to be set free. Well, how bloody awful would that be? Time I got off my arse and made a banner to hang across Victoria Road, methinks.

Wednesday, 17th January, 2007

Hooray, Tamworth Council has reversed its decision and the five Sudanese refugee families will be allowed to settle in the area, albeit only for a year provisionally, but a victory for compassion, nevertheless.

With black on my mind, I noticed a report in the Sydney Morning Herald on Giorgi Armani's menswear fashion show in Milan at which Armani declared not only that black is cool but also that it is a common denominator. "Black is reassuring," he said, "so it will always be cool". Not sure that I understand his reasoning but no doubt he knows best.

Anyway, I read the rest of the fashion show review with my mouth in an O like Jonathon Jo, especially, "Models walked down a black polished glass catwalk to a broadly disco beat and confounded the audience by taking the exit door instead of turning back at the end of the catwalk." God, I know how the audience felt - nothing more confounding than someone taking the exit door. Positively discombobulating.

Tuesday, 16th January, 2007

Last month, Tamworth (home of country music, land of the line dance) rejected a proposal for five Sudanese refugee families to settle in the area. After wide publicity and much condemnation, the issue is expected to be raised again at a council meeting tonight.

Maybe those present need to be reminded of the invitation expressed in the Australian National Anthem: "For those who've come across the seas, we've boundless plains to share". However, Tamworth Council may still be lustily singing the original words of the anthem: "For loyal sons beyond the seas, we've boundless plains to share", which presumably meant if you were male, white and British you were more than welcome.

It will be interesting to see if the Council overturns its previous resolution this evening. Good news for Tamworth women if it does - those Sudanese men are bloody gorgeous and the image of a long line of black boot-scooting cowboys is certainly worth mulling over for a minute or twenty.

Monday, 15th January, 2007

I'm on broadband, feeling smug, and catching up with the "news". Apparently the United States launched some air strikes against Somalia last week, killing over 150 people and - surprise, surprise - all news reports failed to mention that this was an act of terrorism. Had Somalia taken a pot shot at the U.S., then that would have been reported as an act of terrorism. How blessed we are to have a neutral news media that only presents us with the unbiased facts.

On the subject of media bias, a new study by social scientists from Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds universities has found that the British media in their reporting of the justification for the invasion of Iraq “overwhelmingly reflected the official line”, with over 80 percent of stories mirroring the government position and less than 12 percent challenging it. I'm sure the same results would apply in Australia. Because of their overwhelming bias, they must take some responsibility for the terrible carnage that has occurred and the hundreds of thousands of lives lost.

Sadly, I think most journalists and reporters are unaware that they constantly push the official line because they themselves are reflecting their own deep-seated conditioned and unquestioned beliefs which have become embedded after years of subtle propaganda. And the propaganda is subtle and goes by unnoticed unless one is looking out for it. The evening TV news is a great place to do some "spotting", to see how stories are slanted in favour of certain interests: Australia, the government, the U.S., the West, the establishment, the rich and powerful, etc. etc.

Does the newsreader hear herself when she tells us: "The trade talks were marred by protesters ..." "marred?" Funny that - from where I was standing, the protests were marred by the police.

Tuesday, 9th January, 2007

Here we are, then, just me and my flat screen and my brand new black keyboard - it looks very sexy by candlelight. It's late and the household is quiet, everyone asleep. I love being the only one awake; I love keeping watch, keeping them all safe through the night hours. My daughter did night watch on the Greenpeace ship, The Rainbow Warrior. She said it was an incredible feeling, knowing that she was responsible for the safety of all those souls, lying in their bunks, dreaming their dreams. Sitting alone in the dark, I appoint myself the sentry at the door, guardian of those a-slumber, protector of the innocent.

It's not a bad job, this vigil business - long hours but I'm my own boss.

Friday, 5th January, 2007

My new computer arrives today.

The one I've been using for the past seven years is unkindly referred to as the dinosaur and I admit it is rather slow and cumbersome but it has provided me with an income, given me access to a whole new community and allowed me endless pleasure on the Scrabble site. I've been unable to turn it off for over a year as someone pushed the on/off button too hard and it fell inside but then the dog lay on the powerboard the other week and unplugged it which meant I had to take a hammer and chisel to it (computer, not dog - though tempting), and prise off the casing to turn it on again.

I had no hope of buying another computer as at some point on my life's path I must have come to a fork in the road and chosen to skip merrily down the one marked "Poverty" instead of "Wealth" so imagine my delight when family and friends announced they had chipped in to buy me a new one for Christmas. I am overwhelmed at their generosity. Thank you, thank you, thank you to Fi, Gregg, Nomie, Marvin, Tim, Holly, Daisy, Milly, Sunny, Janet, Jared, Vicky, Nicky, Neil, Kayley, Lissy, Tom and Nikki - God Bless you, one and all! And you'll be pleased to know that I am taking the great leap and going on broadband next week so that my phone line won't be tied up for hours.

Happiness is a flat screen.

Wednesday, 3rd January, 2007

Three days into the new year and we are still diligently working our way through the second leg of ham although we're beginning to fancy something more exotic for a change - two minute noodles would probably do the trick.

I'm feeling somewhat despondent over the hanging of Saddam Hussein. I didn't notice any outcry from world leaders at this depraved act but then I keep forgetting we are governed by barbarians. His murder was apparently something to do with justice but I haven't been able to get to grips with the concept. I feel like the bewildered Edina in Ab Fab: "I know it should be fun, darling, but it's your sort of fun - it's like a secret no one has let me in on". Justice has always appeared to me as a mixture of punishment and revenge, a way of trying to get one's own back, a kind of school-yard bullying that shows a lack of wisdom and maturity. Even the inspirational Arundhati Roy says, "There can be no peace without justice", yet my experiments with life have shown me that there can be no peace without forgiveness. Justice is so demanding whereas forgiveness asks for nothing and offers everything. And who am I to bring to account except myself?

Saddam Hussein ruled by instilling fear into his people. All our leaders do that, but mostly in subtler ways, fooling us into believing they are benign, that they act with good intentions, so that their actions cannot be called into question and they can continue to do shameful things in our name. At heart, we are not fooled, but we go along with the pretence - after all, the food is all under lock and key and we must comply, keep our heads down, obey the rules, spend our lives working, if we want to get fed. What can we do? Only forgive ourselves for our lack of courage until we manage to overcome fear. We have been brow-beaten for a long time, after all.