village life

i am living in a toy town. at first it appears similar to dulwich...feel hives appearing...but here there are no pert mums with prams ready to run you down at the slightest excuse. people here are a lot older, and it seems a little less pertness means you can be a little more friendly.

i'm getting used to the village strip; there is a great yiros place (seriously good) and if you go in during the day you might have a bit of a rave about tennis and life with the round bald greek man; there is a local and if you go in during the afternoon you might find a quiet spot and have a beer and do the crossword; there is an overpriced, understocked supermarket in dulwich style, but it's just around the corner so you might find your apricot juice or some milk and you can always get out of there quick; and there is a newsagency where no matter when you go in there are two men behind the counter and no one else in the shop and they will stare you down and you'll feel shifty and 13 again even tho all you want is a pen and that crossword.

i'm surprised, but i am quite enjoying floating through.

he settles into the sunniest patch of the backyard every morning. and later, vanishes.

'tis pity she's a ho

(that's a title from here; couldn't resist stealing it)

millions of U.S. children were severely traumatized by the exposure to a partially nude female breast during that superbowl incident...

"I'm afraid Mommy will take off her shirt and scare everyone. I hate Mommy."

(so much to answer for.)

"[I don't] want to get evil breasts."

(just good ones.)

yesterday was such a lovely day

day starts off funny when recharge phone; went flat last night when making plans with x and i didn't have a charger with me and i didn't have his number other than locked in that little machine and there are messages and x has called and recalled and left increasingly angry messages and i send a message promising to make it up today and have a coffee meeting and have two coffees so that makes it three today and a bit strung out i walk in the heat from east tce to bus info to find bus to new base in walkerville feeling tense at this stage but am ok and am on way head down to bus stop and wait for 20 mins and begin to sweat hot now and get tired of waiting quickly but give up on sense of rush and just wait it out and bus comes cool inside catch every single red light on way am amazed is this a record has it happened before i mean to catch each and every single red light and where is my cool am getting annoyed and get off finally at my stop now the bus lurches and i stumble as i try to flee no grace and into shop so thirsty get a juice and an avocado will make salad for lunch head off down the street quick open that drink so thirsty damn made the wrong choice why orange and apricot should have got iced tea this is just making me thirstier sun beats down but is ok am nearly there key in letter box i'll go inside and maybe have a nap this afternoon and wake up and will all be good and the key is there and it is not the key for the door and i call m and there is no answer and i message and there is no answer and i try key in all ways and it is not the key for the door and i try the back and it is not the key for the door and i call and i message and i pull off window screens and i can't push open the windows they're locked tight and the key doesn't work there either so i sit out the back on the verandah and the only shade is under the plastic verandah roofing which collects heat and intensifies it feels like i'm under a magnifying glass what god is messing with me and punishing me in this way and i call another 10 times and there's no answer and i doze and get hot and at least there's a tap i'm thirsty but i'd better not drink too much because hey where's the toilet it's inside and i get hungry and eat an avocado hm not so nice wihtout any other salad elements and it's now 2 hours and i'm hot and i don't want to go back and hang out in town and finally phone rings and m says give me another 3 hours and i'm over it now it can't get worse and so ok maybe i[ll buy a paper and read it and time will pass and then the phone goes flat and where's the charger it's inside and so if x calls it'll be straight to the message again and i'm thirsty may as well abandon all hope let's get some crisps and another drink and look i found a public library on the way and two and a half hours to wait before a new key comes a key for the door oh can't today be over already

(locked out)

for all passengers getting ready to board a flight to png...there's now a week long delay.

the lime tree is happy and producing like never before. i won't be here for the picking, but - ok i'll say it myself - i've done a good job!

tintin - boxer - di: this is my fridge...

and there's this one too.

or was. today's moving day.

bargains

book stall in udaipur

(books were cheap - with a bit of wheeling and dealing they were about 20-50cents; you see similar ones in those deluxe homewear stores in australia, priced between $40-70; not a bad way to make a living...)

**

went out for a beer last night; don't remember taking photos, but looks like the camera did come out. + bought a skipping rope with glow in the dark handles for $1.30 from a scammer named rusty; this morning it didn't seem like such a find. oh well; perhaps someone else will use it.

the octupus whispers as you walk past...perhaps it dances at night; or perhaps it's saying: one day i'll shrug off this attitude and with my tentacles i will ensnare you...

she cries your name

i have a pngian friend named dulcie, who's younger than me but has 3 kids; sometimes she drops by to hang out and tell stories. Lately she's been in a bit of trouble - but that's another tale; what i wanted to mention today was her visit at lunch time. she brought her little baby - it's about six months old, and this one is a cutie, with big black eyes and long eyelashes and the softest skin imaginable. i couldn't remember the baby's name - and i asked dulcie - and dulcie said, "She doesn't have one yet. You can name her. You pick her name and you give it to her." Oh, the temptation! But ultimately I declined. If it had been a boy, there are a couple of names I would have suggested. But I couldn't think of any good girl ones - and it's a bit of a responsibility, being the namer.

(This morning too someone was telling me that they'd met a child called Einstein. You do get some funny names here; lots of biblical ones - I know 3 guys called Moses - and 1950s anglo ones: I work with Theresa, Isabella, Priscilla, Laurencia, Bernadette...)

queen of hearts

someone i met on nye called me last week, and - surprised (i was not at my best that night) - i agreed to meet. let me say straight away - nice guy, pleasant afternoon. this joke was all on me.

from the first my recollection was a little rosy coloured. he's not a speechwriter, no don watson; he writes economic briefs and plays with stats for politicians. different political persuasian, but hey possibly interesting discussion. perhaps ambitious of me; pro pro pro sale of etsa, of assets in general...so; he'd just had a break, done some reading. Books - excellent territory! i leaned in eagerly. i'm not particular about what it is people read; i'm biased towards anyone who reads. silly, perhaps - but not everyone does read. and so you read, i like you.

yet of all the books in the world, this one was almost thrown out like a personal test.

I leaned in eagerly. What did you read?
A biography of Princess Diana.

I looked down; i failed the test. i was not open minded. and as if anew i saw his shiny rm williams boots and pants and shirt; became conscious of the paint splashes on my jeans. i gulped my drink and wanted to fidget. i tried! i tried to ignore this new liberal thing! but of all the books in the world...

warning - diary entry -

two weeks to go. (presuming work permit arrives at some stage in this time.) there's a quiet sense of being ready. despite the material evidence otherwise - the house remains largely unpacked - need to buy supplies - & co. my people have calmed, which is really good; now when i go out with gg there are no tears. m is obsessed with research into birds of paradise. marie and an have always been brilliant; dan unsurprised, but he's always ready for any adventure. h inspires me and his stories reassure. and ben - boof! - has been so open i'm surprised, and touched.

and bean. the bean has been has been there all along, questioning and listening and thinking and talking. so much has happened in the past five years. the richness of our friendship, criss-crossed by light and shadows.

she looked at me sadly the other day and there was nothing to say.

the rorschach test

On a slightly different note, and along with my co-editors of the journal Postcolonial Studies I am currently researching and putting together a special issue on postcolonialism and the toilet which we hope to transform into a book.

**


**
there's a dan s -shaped hole in my day today; i miss you.

these days...

i don't even need to say it here; i think it's pretty evident..thanks for a great afternoon though, kiddo;

so what do you know...just as i'm hitting the cruise point and thinking of finishing up early...the next batch of proofs arrive. nice.

working from home today; feels like luxury, and to think i used to do it every day...tho that was writing full-time and i must remember the thousand and one drawbacks. still, today i'm upstairs with toast and coffee at hand, comfy pjs, birds and my green view - stuff the drawbacks; this is good.

On the second day back home after travelling around India, I went out and bought a big tv. The biggest one I could afford. (which was a Palsonic; like the batteries i bought last week, by SQNY.)

I'd experienced a lot for a naive little white girl - trundling along in an old Austin, ricketing around in diesel and pedal rickshaws; the spice and silk markets; the mosques; that undemocratic mix of people, existing in tension but flourishing anyway; beautiful people; screeching feral monkeys in towns, accepted as if pigeons; the ubiquitous cows, black, brown, dirty, everywhere -taking over streets, lying outside funeral vats, on train lines; big rats, when the train i held a ticket for caught on fire and was delayed for 24 hours, and the night meant a night on the train's station on a bench banging my feet on the ground every 20 seconds or whenever something dashed towards my shoes; great poverty and homelessness; bollywood; violence against newsagencies on valentine's day; grandiose temples; drugged out sadhus, circled by stoned westerners, checking out girls (ha); incredible food, and bookstores, and delicious chai; ashes of the dead being ceremoniously disposed of in the ganges, and bits of bodies pushed out into the river when relatives were too poor to pay the cost of having the entire body burnt. and this is just stuff the tourist remembers; they're typical snapshots. when i stop and focus on it, i remember much more singular instances.

Varanasi from the water 2001

And the second day i was back in Adelaide, I went out and bought a really big tv. I didn't understand why at the time. It makes more sense to me now, but the story still amuses me. So much for enlightenment - or maybe that's exactly the point.

Anyway, I didn't watch it much; I gardened. But it was useful later in the year when September rolled around and so much of the internet jammed.

small pleasures are important. Gianni this one goes out you - for good coffee and good conversation. (+ the veg toast is just a bonus.)

the world is an emotional place; take a walk take a risk

that's funny - no mention of kids in fwds throwing rocks at passersby. well, guess that's the wikipedia for you.

in the middle of a black sea

this is one of my favourite paintings. (i wonder who owns it now, and whether it's accessible to public gazers.) i can look at it for a long time; it's beautiful. it moves me. and i can't write anything about it, actually. it's paul klee's The Golden Fish.

yes

dear reader: as if you exist outside of my imagination, I have to level with you. i am moving house, and I am starting a new job, but they don't quite involve crossing a suburb or buying a new set of pencils. They require the crossing of a sea (the coral sea i think it'll be). I am going to papua new guinea. PNG! after a week in the tourist hot spot of pt moresby, i'll be heading up to goroka for, actually,2 years.

i'm going to be working as a volunteer. although i am a doctor (i hope this surprises you reader; i am still surprised by it; the only time i have remembered to use it was for a flight to melbourne - and no,no free upgrade; in fact they almost sneered at me, as if i were a liar. perhaps i have that kind of face, but understandable actually: plain and mid20s, where's the doctor there?), my skills are unfortunately not of the medical kind. words are my business, and i'm going to be editing anthropological + social science work on/about/by "nationals", as the lingo goes, on paper and online, and training locals to do so. and "managing archives" (those unruly things).

and reader i'm going to be having adventures! the whole expedition is a risk and a challenge, and exactly what i want to be doing for the next short while. i'm not ready to settle into the plains, and working at a sandstone has reached its limit too. i need something more gutsy, and hopefully a situation where what i know can be more useful, to test my mettle. and even if it proves too testing, it is something i believe in saying yes to.

and though i feel a little sentimental now and then about leaving certain people and things, there has never been a moment of doubt about the decision to go. it felt as if there never was a moment of decision - when the phone rang and i was told i was the successful applicant, i lied and said i would consider the position. despite intense surprise, there was no possibility of saying no to the opportunity. it was yes it was thank god of course it was yes it was only yes.

and inbetween then and now i've got to work like a crazy to get my current job done; and go out into the city at night whilst i can. and enjoy.

(look - hidden underneath the cover of bark is a golden tree)

i like going out on monday nights

of course, not everyone agrees with me

This place is damp and ghostly
I am already gone...

one sister gave me a copy of joanna newsom, saying listen to this her singing is witch-ey and spooky; it is, and kooky and addictive. And good for sticky, stormy weather.

caution: love birds

thanks moma

i saw the birds again last night. i'd forgotten it was without non-diegetic sound; it all comes from 'natural' people noises, and the fluttering and squawking of the birds. and it works - it ups the unnervingness. and i'd forgotten how much of a master the H is, with his visual and shot styles, and the freudian psychological dynamics - those male/female tensions, and then those female/female tensions! the air is so thick with them that you often forget about the birds. delicious to watch...

the best character must be that old crank, mrs bundy, the orinthologist; but the best scene must be when poor tippi breaks down and her arms thrash the air, beating off invisible birds...oh, an oscar performance there.

**

Fire bans in place as SA awaits hot weather - it's raining here...But perhaps not up at Cleland, which was aflame yesterday. You could smell the smoke in Goodwood in the afternoon.

partings

i'm moving house soon. (almost made it to one full year at the same address - short by a 3 weeks; so close!) (first time so long in one home in 3 or 4 years - since the 80s redbrick townhouse where we lived across from anne wills + her sunbed; glory days.)

And this time i can't take everything with me. I'm moving house and to a new job, and I'm winding up the underpaidslavelabor stuff they call freelancing. It's enjoyable to get rid of stuff - household and otherwise. But then there are my books.

I have been sifting, sorting, piling; flipping, skimming, remembering. Reading. Re-reading.

(piles in what was the study)

There are more than I thought. (thousands![grin])(tsk [frown]; vanity.)

And they are more than I thought. Beginnings, becomings. Worlds, selves.

They are, to me, 'Blood, that euphemism for what moves in us.' (A. Michaels). How to choose what to take, what to leave behind?

Maybe it doesn't matter. This has always seemed a little chilling, but maybe it's true: "It is the future we must look to," said Constance. "It is useless to pursue the past." "It is needless," said Audrey. "It will pursue us." (I. Compton-Burnett)

little creatures

my sis came back on xmas eve


it was a pretty warm day so we took in a quick refreshment


it was fun. cheers girl!

shakin' it in 2005

well i came upon a dancing crab and i stopped to watch it shake /
I said dance for me just one more time before you hibernate /
and you come out a crab cake

**

back from a week at the beach and there's no food in the little house. and everything's closed barring expensivecrapmarket. why didn't i think of this yesterday...happy new year anyway kids