Saturday, 12 September 2009

ALONE


“Parting is all we know of heaven and all we need to know of hell.” - Emily Dickinson

A very busy Saturday today, which was all spent proof-reading my pathology textbook. Reading proofs of a book about to be published is a little bit of an anti-climax. Once the book has been written and it has gone to the publisher, one wants it to be off one’s hands and out there. The proofs and the jolly hard work one has to do going through them with a fine tooth comb making sure all the T’s are crossed and all the I’s are dotted is a boring but essential task. And so it was today, but I managed to get through four chapters…

Tonight was a quiet night spent all alone. And this song is dedicated to the one I wish were here, but who is travelling…



Alone
(Heart)

I hear the ticking of the clock
I'm lying here the room's pitch dark
I wonder where you are tonight
No answer on the telephone
And the night goes by so very slow
Oh I hope that it won't end though
Alone

CHORUS:
Till now I always got by on my own
I never really cared until I met you
And now it chills me to the bone
How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone

You don't know how long I have wanted
To touch your lips and hold you tight
You don't know how long I have waited
You don't know how long I have waited
And I was gonna tell you tonight
But the secret is still my own
And my love for you is still unknown
Alone

CHORUS

How do I get you alone
How do I get you alone
Alone, alone

Friday, 11 September 2009

AN OLD FAVOURITE


“Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.” - Mark Twain

A classic dish for this Food Friday. This is Shepherd’s Pie, originally cooked on the day after a lamb roast was had, but one can now cook it as first off rather than a left over meal as well, since lamb mince is readily available. However, if you have some lamb roast left over from the previous day, you can certainly chop it up and substitute that for the lamb mince.

Shepherd’s Pie
Ingredients
800g potatoes, peeled and chopped
1 tbsp butter
1/4 cup milk
1 tbsp oil
1 onion, finely diced
1 clove garlic, chopped
500g lamb mince (or left over lamb roast)
2 carrots, grated
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 tsp chopped rosemary
2 tbsp plain flour
375ml beef stock
1/2 cup grated tasty cheese

Method
(Preparation Time: 20 minutes; Cooking Time: 25 minutes; Serves 4)
1. Preheat oven to 180°C. Place potatoes into a saucepan of boiling salted water. Cook for 20 minutes or until tender. Drain, return to saucepan, add butter and milk, mash until smooth.
2. Heat oil in a saucepan over medium heat. Add onions and garlic, cook for 5 minutes until softened. Add mince and carrot, cook until browned.
3. Add tomato paste, Worcestershire sauce and rosemary, cook, stirring, for 2-5 minutes. Remove from heat.
4. Stir in flour. Slowly add stock, stirring after each addition, until combined. Return to heat. Cook for a further 5 minutes, stirring constantly, until sauce has thickened. Spoon into a 2 Litre (8-cup) capacity ovenproof dish. Top with mashed potato then sprinkle over cheese. Bake for 15 minutes or until golden.

Have a good weekend!

Thursday, 10 September 2009

REFLECTING ON GANDHI


“We have failed to grasp the fact that mankind is becoming a single unit, and that for a unit to fight against itself is suicide.” Havelock Ellis

Let me ask a question: Is violence ever justified? Think about it. Consider a situation where you are confronted by a series of events that leave you no other option except to react violently. What do you do? Will you resort to violence to save yourself? To save someone else? To defend family and home? To defend your country? To fight in a war that is “just”? To punish recalcitrant offenders? To execute a criminal? Human history is full of wars, killing, heinous acts of extreme brutality and cruelty of man against man. We acknowledge this and are quick to denounce these acts. And yet, we quickly justify self-defence and the defence of our loved ones who are under violent attack. We distinguish between just and unjust wars. We defend revolutions, which assume justified violence. Freedom fighters are heroes who die for just causes, wanting to liberate their country, their people, willing to die for their cause…

And it is from here on that we get into deeper water that keeps on getting hotter. When does a “freedom fighter” become a terrorist? When does a revolution become a massacre of innocents? When does a “just war” become an excuse for an economically or politically or racially or socially-driven pogrom? Who justifies it? Whose justice does the violence serve? Must we become personally involved in an evil action in order to realise that it is evil as we perform it? Is it not enough for us as logical beings to judge such actions as vicious and avoid them altogether? How can we justify the unjustifiable? Defend the indefensible?

Gandhi said “I am prepared to die, but there is no cause for which I am prepared to kill”. He was the ultimate proponent of non-violence at a time when his country was embroiled in violent clashes with the occupying British. When his countrymen advocated a bloody revolution in order to liberate themselves and their country from the oppressing colonial forces, he was the champion of the non-violent revolution. Through his passive aggression and gentle strength he was able to lead his people to independence. Gandhi was careful to distinguish non-violence from cowardice:

“Nonviolence is not a cover for cowardice, but it is the supreme virtue of the brave. Exercise of nonviolence requires far greater bravery than that of swordsmanship. Cowardice is wholly inconsistent with non-violence. Translation from swordsmanship to nonviolence is possible and, at times, even an easy stage.”

Gandhi showed that non-violence was an effective means of resistance, of revolution, of passive aggression. His ideas stemmed from his deep belief in the goodness of human beings and in the spark of the divine that is within each of us. His sincere belief in a benevolent, peaceful God motivated his philosophy and he was ready to espouse other religions in which he recognised his God called by another name. Christianity was familiar to him, although Christians were not always representative of their faith: “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” His philosophy is summed up by: “Non-violence requires a double faith, faith in God and also faith in man.”

Tonight, on the eve of a terrible anniversary, it is appropriate to think of Gandhi and his ideas of non-violence. Terrorism had no place in Gandhi’s universe and even a justifiable act of violence was anathema to his philosophy. That a man like him died a violent death in the hands of an assassin is the ultimate irony. Such acts of terrorism are the most despicable acts that human beings are capable of. Killing the innocent, murdering the adherents of non-violence, executing the blameless are all acts like re-crucifying Christ all over again.

Have we learned anything in these last eight years since 9/11? Has the world changed? Has the “war against terror” achieved anything? I think not. Every morning I hear on the news reports of suicide bombings, of renewed terrorism threats, of violence and more violence. Where is it leading us, when will it end? And will there be human beings left on this planet to see the end of it?

passive resistance |ˈpasiv| |riˈzistəns| noun
Nonviolent opposition to authority, esp. a refusal to cooperate with legal requirements: They called for protest in the form of passive resistance.
ORIGIN late Middle English: from Latin passivus, from pass- ‘suffered,’ from the verb pati. + from Old French resister or Latin resistere, from re- (expressing opposition) + sistere ‘stop’ (reduplication of stare ‘to stand’ ).

Jacqui BB hosts Word Thursday.

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

MEDIOCRITY


“The first study for the man who wants to be a poet is knowledge of himself, complete: he searches for his soul, he inspects it, he puts it to the test, he learns it. As soon as he has learned it, he must cultivate it! I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet becomes a seer through a long, immense, and reasoned derangement of all the senses. All shapes of love suffering, madness. He searches himself, he exhausts all poisons in himself, to keep only the quintessences. Ineffable torture where he needs all his faith, all his superhuman strength, where he becomes among all men the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed one--and the supreme Scholar! For he reaches the unknown! ...So the poet is actually a thief of Fire!” - Arthur Rimbaud

A poem for a thief of words – a poem that will not easily be “borrowed”. I thought that what was freely given could hardly be stolen, except by one whose joy derives from the act of kleptomania…

Mediocrity

Hail, all-bright Lady Mediocrity!
You shine on radiantly, unashamedly
Although your light is but reflected.

You utter well-turned phrases
Your ears so used to accolades,
Even if the applause you hear is for mouthing stolen wit.

Magnanimously you bend low
Giving alms to the needy all around you,
But your munificence runs on borrowed funds.

Hail bright, if slightly tarnished star,
Lord help preserve us from your indiscretions,
There is so much of your second-hand originality around us.

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday

Tuesday, 8 September 2009

INTERNATIONAL LITERACY DAY 2009


“He who opens a school door, closes a prison.” - Victor Hugo

The photograph above by David Seymour moves me and makes me quietly introspective. The contrast between the gnarled old hands and the childlike letters they labour to write is a confronting sight. We take it for granted that an adult can read and write. We refuse to acknowledge that there is a reason nowadays for anyone to be illiterate. Yet, even today throughout the world, one in five adults is still not literate and two-thirds of them are women while 75 million children are out of school. Illiterate generations still cede their place to illiterate offspring and in developing countries, it still remains an enormous problem.

Have you ever thought what it would be like not being literate? I was immersed in such an experience when I was visiting Egypt about 30 years ago. I was in Aswan and in those days, English speakers were few and far between in Southern Egypt. I could communicate mainly with gestures and with a few elderly people in pidgin French. The most intimidating, humbling and disempowering experience that I had was being surrounded by signs, newspapers, magazines, street names, traffic signs, all written in Arabic – a script and language that I was completely unfamiliar with. It was then that I realised how an illiterate person felt, surrounded by a sea of mysterious symbols that they couldn’t understand…

Literacy is a human right, a tool of personal empowerment and a means for social and human development. The most effective way to disenfranchise and render powerless a group is to deprive them of the right to literacy. Spoken language and oral communication are a characteristically human trait that distinguishes us from animals, however, being able to command the written form of language is the difference between the civilised and the uncivilised, the powerful and the weak, the influential and ineffectual, the advantaged and the disadvantaged, the prominent and the obscure.

Educational opportunities depend on literacy and without literacy even the most basic of educations is impossible. Literacy is essential for eradicating poverty, reducing child mortality, curbing population growth, achieving gender equality and ensuring sustainable development, peace and democracy. A good quality basic education equips students with literacy skills for life and further learning; literate parents are more likely to send their children to school; literate people are better able to access continuing educational opportunities; and literate societies are better geared to meet pressing development.

This year, International Literacy Day put the spotlight on the empowering role of literacy and its importance for participation, citizenship and social development. Literacy and Empowerment is the theme for the 2009-2010 biennium of the United Nations Literacy Decade.

I look at the photograph above and I feel an immense gratitude towards my parents, my teachers, and the luck of the draw that resulted in me being born in an environment where I was assured of being amongst the four of five that were literate, rather than the one in five who isn’t. You are reading this and therefore you should celebrate with me your literacy. Happy Literacy Day 2009!

Sunday, 6 September 2009

BANG BANG WEDDING


Marriage (noun): The state or condition of a community consisting of a master, a mistress, and two slaves, making in all, two.” - Ambrose Bierce


We went to the 16th Greek Film Festival here in Melbourne, last week and saw one of the Greek films on show, “Bang Bang Wedding” («Το Γαμήλιο Πάρτι» in Greek, meaning “The Wedding Reception”). This was a 2008 romantic comedy directed by Christine Crokos and starred Alex Dimitriades, Faye Xyla, Betty Maggira, Chrysa Ropa, Wilma Tsakiri and Christos Biros. There was a connection with Australia as the leading man, Alex Dimitriades is an Australian-Greek who has been in several films in Australia already. This was his first Greek film.

The film was pleasant enough, although rather thin on plot and unfortunately, some great opportunities for great comedy went unexploited. It managed to raise chuckles in us, although some members of the audience had come prepared to laugh big time and they did (even at inappropriate points, I’m afraid – but maybe I am being a snob…). We felt throughout that the potential of the cast was underutilised and the fault was mainly with the script, but also the rather pedestrian direction.

The plot revolves around a wedding taking place in Crete. The family is Cretan, but its members live all around the world and the wedding serves as an excuse to bring them all together in order celebrate and do some family bonding. The groom is a fashion photographer and the bride an ecologist –very modern and very emancipated. The parents, in-laws and extended family and friends provide some sub-plots which are rather insubstantial and to pad out the film there is also a private party in a villa that wedding guests crash into. This because the wedding invitations give wrong directions on how to get to the rather isolated country property where the wedding reception will be held. Most of the film revolves around the adventures of the guests and family as they try to get to the reception. The bride and groom argue and decide to get a divorce, each going their separate ways, only to find that they are still madly in love with each other. The bride’s stepmother gets amnesia, the groom’s mother gets drunk, the groom’s father turns up with his new English wife and throws a spanner in the works, while some wedding guests have a good time at the party, which is not the wedding party.

The scenery of Crete formed a gorgeous backdrop for some scenes and the music was interestingly quirky, although not so much Greek as one would have expected. The film was pleasant and amusing, but not one of the great comedies. If you come across it and one-and-a-half hours to spare, watch it. But certainly, don’t go out of your way to find it in order to watch it!

A CYNICAL ART SUNDAY


“True contentment depends not upon what we have; a tub was large enough for Diogenes, but a world was too little for Alexander.” - Charles Caleb Colton

For your delectation on this Art Sunday, a painting by Jean-Léon Gérôme (May 11, 1824 - January 10, 1904). Gérôme was a French painter and sculptor in the style now known as Academicism. The range of his oeuvre included historical painting, Greek mythology, Orientalism, portraits and other subjects, bringing the Academic painting tradition to an artistic climax.

Born at Vesoul (Haute-Saône), he went to Paris in 1840 where he studied under Paul Delaroche, whom he accompanied to Italy (1843-1844). He visited Florence, Rome, the Vatican and Pompeii, but he was more attracted to the world of nature. Taken by a fever, he was forced to return to Paris in 1844. On his return he followed, like many other students of Delaroche, into the atelier of Charles Gleyre and studied there for a brief time. He then attended the École des Beaux-Arts. In 1846 he tried to enter the prestigious Prix de Rome, but failed in the final stage because his figure drawing was inadequate.

A little before he died he wrote to Aublet, one of his students: “I begin to have enough of life. I've seen too much misery and misfortune in the lives of others. I still see it every day, and I'm getting eager to escape this theatre.” He was to live just ten more days and perhaps knew that his heart was weakening.

This painting of his is “Diogenes” (1860), the famous ancient Greek philosopher, foremost of the school of cynics (kyon/kynos – “dog” in Greek). Cynicism called for a closer imitation of nature, the repudiation of most human conventions, and complete independence of mind and spirit. Diogenes (ca. 400-ca. 325 BC) was the son of Hicesias, and was born in Sinope. He arrived in Athens after he and his father had been exiled from their native city for debasing the coinage in some way. His life in Athens was one of great poverty, but it was there that he adopted Antisthenes's teachings and became the chief exponent of Cynicism.

Diogenes was not famous for developing a strong theoretical argument for his way of life. Antisthenes, the pupil of Socrates, was his inspiration, and he put into practice his master's teachings in a way which made a striking impression upon his contemporaries. Indeed, it was Diogenes's application of Antisthenes's principles which gained for him the notoriety he enjoyed. His goals were self-sufficiency, a tough and ascetic way of life, and anaideia, or shamelessness. Diogenes held that through a rigorous denial of all but the barest necessities of life one could train the body to be free of the world and its delusions. Through anaideia one could show the rest of humanity the contempt in which their conventions were held. He is shown here to live in poverty in an old pot and be accompanied by the dogs that his philosophy took its name from.

The lamp he is lighting and which he used to hold aloft even in daylight was to aid him to find an “honest human being”. However, he used to say with disappointment that even with the aid of his lamp he found nothing but scoundrels and rascals. When Alexander the Great visited Diogenes, he stood in front of him happy to have met the famous philosopher. He introduced himself and asked him if he desired anything of him, as he was ruler of the world. Diogenes looked at him blandly and asked him to move sideways, as he was blocking the sunlight that warmed him. Alexander then asked him why he was staring at a pile of human bones so intently. Diogenes replied that he was trying to distinguish the bones of his illustrious father from the bones of a slave but could see no difference between the two. Alexander then said to him: “If I were not Alexander, then I should wish to be Diogenes”.

Saturday, 5 September 2009

MARUZZELLA


“I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin With syllables which breathe of the sweet South.” - George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron

For Song Saturday today an old Neapolitan song from the 1950s, which I remember from my childhood. It exemplifies the idiom of this most musical of Italian cities in its lush melody and lovelorn lyrics, which need no explanation or translation, so expressive is the music. Sergio Bruni, one of the most lyrical of Neapolitan singers sings this song of unrequited love, “Maruzzella”.

Friday, 4 September 2009

A TASTE OF SINGAPORE


“Asia is not going to be civilised after the methods of the West. There is too much Asia and she is too old.” - Rudyard Kipling

I am very much looking forward to the weekend this week, a sleep in, and a little rest too. The trouble is although I start with the best intensions, come the weekend and I am busily doing the same I have been doing since a long time past: Getting up very early and working away on many projects. A leopard can’t change its spots, I guess.

Here is a recipe today, which is perfect weekend food. Doesn’t take too long to prepare and the ingredients are fairly easily obtainable at a pinch. How did I remember it? Well today I was told I may have to go to Singapore for work at the beginning of October…

Singapore Noodles with Chicken and Cashews
Ingredients (four serves)
375 ml chicken stock
125 g rice vermicelli noodles
2 tbsp olive oil
500 g chicken breast fillet, thinly sliced
1 onion, thinly sliced
2 carrots, cut into thin sticks
200 g snow peas, trimmed and halved
3 tsp mild curry powder
2 tbsp soy sauce
4 green onions, sliced
1/4 cup unsalted, roasted cashews

Method
(Preparation time: 15 minutes; Cooking time: 25 minutes)
1. Place stock in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Remove from heat. Add the noodles, toss until slightly softened. Cover and let steep for five minutes, stirring occasionally, until fully softened.
2. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in a wok, or large frying pan, over high heat. Cook chicken strips in batches, for 5 minutess or until golden. Remove and set aside.
3. Heat remaining oil in wok. Add onion, cook, stirring, for two minutes.
4. Add carrots, snow peas and curry powder. Cook, stirring, for two minutes.
5. Return chicken to pan. Add soy sauce, green onions, soaked noodles and any remaining stock, toss to combine.
6. Cook, stirring, for two minutes until noodles are coated and stock is absorbed. Stir through cashews and serve.
Enjoy your weekend!

Thursday, 3 September 2009

POSTCARD FROM SYDNEY!


“Who can hope to be safe? who sufficiently cautious? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush.” - Horace

I was in Sydney for the day today, so another early morning flight and then back home with an evening one. So, one more long day, but once again worthwhile as its results were good beyond expectation. We had a government regulator audit to survive at our Sydney Campus, but instead of the expected problems that had foreseen, the auditors were most complimentary and identified many of the things we do as examples of “best practice”. This was most satisfying and it certainly was great encouragement for my team who worked so hard to get it all right. It was so good to see the delight in everyone’s eyes when the auditors delivered their verdict and said they recommended that we pass with flying colours!

Sydney weather was quite variable today and what started out as a sunny day ended up rainy. I took my team out to lunch, seeing how the audit was going so well and we wanted a little celebration. We had a delicious repast at one of the area’s good Italian restaurants. There was chicken schnitzel with a seasoned crumbed coating and mustard sauce on mashed potato with rocket salad, barramundi fillets with butter lemon sauce and spring vegetables, a chicken Caesar salad with crispy bacon and foccacias of various kinds, followed by wonderfully aromatic, strong Italian coffee. We managed to evade the rain and then walked back and finished with the audit.

After we had finished and got the good news, I took the train to the airport (how convenient and sensible it is to have a train station right at the airport!) and almost met a colleague at the airport, however, our planes were leaving at different terminals and the times just weren’t conducive to us meeting in the end. As I was going to the terminal where my plane was leaving, I was crossing the road at a pedestrian crossing and was nearly run over by a limousine taxi, which didn’t stop at the crossing. I was clipped on the side and nearly fell over, but managed to hang on and even though my knee was banged and my wrist was sprained, nothing else was injured. The car stopped and the driver was quite distressed, whereas I was rather relieved that I didn’t break anything, or worse… At least the car was a Mercedes and if one gets run over, it may as well be in style.

An eventful day, again and as the saying goes, “never a dull moment”!

audit |ˈôdit| noun
an official inspection of an individual's or organisation's accounts, typically by an independent body.
• a systematic review or assessment of something: A complete audit of flora and fauna at the site.
verb ( -dited , -diting ) [ trans. ]
1 conduct an official financial examination of (an individual's or organization's accounts): Companies must have their accounts audited.
• conduct a systematic review of: Auditing obstetrical and neonatal care.
2 attend (a class) informally, not for academic credit.
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Latin auditus ‘hearing,’ from audire ‘hear,’ in medieval Latin auditus (compoti) ‘audit (of an account),’ an audit originally being presented orally.

Jacqui BB is hosting Word Thursday!

Wednesday, 2 September 2009

WAITING


“Old Time, in whose banks we deposit our notes
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.” - Oliver Wendell Holmes

Continuing my peregrinations through my old notebooks and journals, finding words written long ago. How we change as we grow older… It seems only yesterday that I was writing these words and yet more than two decades have gone by. Looking at old photographs and seeing another person, full well knowing that stranger is I. The world changes, we change, and it’s only these words scribbled on yellowing paper that remain the same, but not constant. Even the meaning they are meant to capture varies with time and with my perception of the words themselves, are altered by time and experience.

Waiting

Sometimes, I feel you’re so close
When for a split second,
I find you in a stranger’s fleeting glance.
Or when I hear by chance
Words said for someone else’s ear,
And I, I make believe they were for me.
But other times,
You’re far away, light years away,
Just like tonight…

It seems impossible that we two shall meet,
But then, I close my eyes
And feel you next to me,
Even if insubstantial,
Even if only in my dreams.

Sometimes, you seem so close,
But at the same time so distant,
That I lose heart, lose hope,
I think that never shall I find you.
And then sometimes,
I think you’ll knock on my door
And come into my life,
Like you’d enter my room,
Just like tonight…

Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday!

Tuesday, 1 September 2009

POSTCARD FROM ADELAIDE


“The true way to render ourselves happy is to love our work and find in it our pleasure.” - Françoise de Motteville

I was in Adelaide for work for the day today and a very long day it has been, getting up at 4:30 am, catching the 6:00 am flight and then slogging through back to back appointments all day (fortunately all concentrated around the CBD). Although I finished by 4:30 pm, I had a 7:30 pm flight out of Adelaide and seeing how it was a cheap one, I could not get it changed for an earlier flight. I used the time to catch up on some work in the Qantas Club lounge and also to have a drink and something to eat.

The weather this morning was cloudy and rainy, but it soon cleared to a fine, sunny day. This was good as I was able to walk around the city for my various appointments. It was very pleasant and the city was crowded and the people buoyant and happy. The trip was successful and all of my meetings went extremely well and achieved all that had been anticipated. This is always such a good feeling at the end of the day when ne is returning home and can at least be happy that the exhaustingly long day have been worth it. The picture is of one of my favourite buildings in Adelaide, the Haigh’s Chocolates Beehive Corner building. A fine 19th century red brick edifice that rises up in a neo-Gothic flurry and is undaunted by the surrounding modern high rise buildings. A wonderful touch is the flying bee on top of the corner turret.

Work that has variety associated with it vitalises me and rejuvenates me. I dislike routine and a boringly recurring timetable. My present job provides that variety and several surprises (OK, not all of them pleasant!) that keep me interested and involved in what I do. The occasional extra long days and the frequent travel add to the variety and the challenge of my position.

Tomorrow, I spend the day in Melbourne, interviewing people for a high management position, finalizing some reports and resolving some issues that have surfaced, and on Thursday I have another day trip, this time to Sydney. It will be quite a hectic week.

Monday, 31 August 2009

MOVIE MONDAY - AMERICAN HISTORY X


“A rattlesnake, if cornered will become so angry it will bite itself. That is exactly what the harboring of hate and resentment against others is - a biting of oneself. We think we are harming others in holding these spites and hates, but the deeper harm is to ourselves.” E. Stanley Jones

At the weekend we saw Tony Kaye’s 1998 film “American History X”, which we had resisted watching up until now as we had been told that it was a very violent movie. Subsequent to that I had two friends whose judgment I trust tell me that this was an excellent movie and well worth watching, despite the violence, strong themes and foul language. Being in a suitably prepared mood, we watched this film last Saturday and I must confess that we found all of the things we had heard about were true: Yes, it is very violent; yes, it has confronting themes; yes, it had foul language; but yes, it was also a powerful and important movie that looked at some of issues that are relevant today not only in the USA, but in most countries of the Western world.

The casting was excellent and all actors played their part exceptionally well, but most importantly, Edward Norton and Edward Furlong, as the two brothers, Derek and Danny Vinyard gave award-winning performances. Beverley D’ Angelo, Avery Brooks, Jennifer Lien, Ethan Suplee and Elliot Gould also give great supporting performances. The result is a gut-wrenching, moving film about self-discovery and redemption, but at a terrible price.

The plot centres on Derek Vinyard, a brutal Neo Nazi skinhead who is tried and sent to prison for three years for the murder of two black men who tried to steal his truck. In prison he discovers that things are not always what they seem, and reformed, returns home to try and salvage his family. His younger brother Daniel Vinyard who idolises him, is on the brink of following in Derek’s footsteps. The relationship between the two brothers becomes strained as Derek tries to save his younger brother from a fate similar to his own.

Tony Kaye’s direction is a little conventional at first, but even then, never hackneyed. As the film builds up to its climax, subtlety and innovation become apparent and the viewer is drawn into the drama with a style that builds the tension and erupts into an ending that is both apocalyptic and immensely crushing. The sheer brutality of some of the scenes of the film are quite graphic and will shock many viewers. However, the most sad thing about it is that these are everyday crimes that are occurring even now. The film contains scenes of sex, violence, murder, rape, references to drug use, racial vilification, foul language and yet all of this is relevant to the theme and the plot. Not for the faint-hearted, but it is a film for people with a heart.

I do recommend that you see this movie if you haven’t seen it, but prepare to be shocked and moved, enraged and confronted by powerful themes. The emotional response that it evokes is strong and it is done in a way that caters to the intelligence and critical review of the watcher.

Sunday, 30 August 2009

A HOMELY SCENE BY HOOCH


“Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.” - Harriet Beecher Stowe

When I was young and we were living in Greece, I remember spending summer holidays at my grandparents’ place. These were some of the most idyllic and happy times of my life. I was carefree and spoilt, used to play with the neighbourhood children and I adored my grandfather, especially. There was a garden with fruit trees and vines, a flat roof with a little storeroom at the back of it where I found bundles of old magazines that I read in the summer afternoons when everyone else took their siesta and nearby fields where I went exploring.

One of the things I remember about their house was that there was a series of Dutch Master prints hanging in the walls of the hallway. One of those always fascinated me and I used to look at it often and was drawn into its quiet mystery. It always seemed to me that if I looked at it long enough and willed hard enough I would somehow be transported into the painting and explore its mysteries. Once we moved and after my grandparents died, it was many years before I saw those paintings again.

As far as my favourite mysterious painting is concerned, it was “The Mother” by Pieter de Hooch, painted about 1660. I encountered the original of this when I was living in Amsterdam and visited the Rijksmuseum. This museum became one of my haunts and every couple of days I used to visit it in order to immerse myself in its treasures. The de Hooch painting is fairly small, 52.5 x 61 cm, but nevertheless it exerted on me the same magic as it did in my childhood. The immediate comparison one may make is with the paintings of Vermeer, another Dutch master of the Golden Age of Dutch painting.

Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684) has gone down in art history as a painter who rendered Dutch domestic life with great precision and verisimilitude. The everyday life of the bourgeoisie in all its ordered tranquillity and its private moments, is the subject of his works. He depicts a world whose calm is never shattered by any sensational event and the scenes he chooses to immortalize are curiously familiar, timeless. De Hooch opens a window on narrow alleyways, small gardens and courtyards, and gives us a glimpse into the antechambers and living-rooms of the Dutch citizens. Like Jan Vermeer, de Hooch specialized in the portrayal of interiors.

However, the paintings of Vermeer centre on a self-absorbed figure pausing momentarily in some activity, while de Hooch's paintings are dominated by the room itself, by its perspectives and views through doors and windows where people become an integral part of the interior. Light is an important factor, especially daylight, as in the work of Vermeer, with its refractions and reflections adding vitality to the rooms. Whereas people and animals interpose in their activities, light itself becomes the active element, permeating and moving over walls, floors and tiles, illuminating objects or casting them in shadow. This depiction of figures immersed in light, whether indoors or outdoors is what makes de Hooch’s painting luminous and deep.

The painting above shows a mother checking the hair of her child for lice. A very mundane theme, but a beautifully rendered painting bathed in warm golden light. The homely touch of the pet dog looking out towards the spring garden and the patch of sunlight on the floor, attract the eye outward towards that beautiful landscape visible through the half-open door. The bed warmer and the heavily curtained bed ensconced in its own little niche (a room within a room) hint at the heavy winter that has passed. The child is squirming, eager for the ritual of the louse hunt to finish so it can go and play with the dog in the sunshine outside. A gem of a painting, ordinary and yet extraordinary in its directness and simplicity. Quite charming!

Hope you had a good weekend, enjoy the week ahead!

Saturday, 29 August 2009

GREY SATURDAY


“And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs
And as silently steal away.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

A grey lingering winter’s day today, with some rain and coldness reminiscent of late July. After a hurried morning sortie to do some shopping we came back home and stayed in for the whole of the day. In the evening, as the sun was setting the clouds parted in the western sky a little and the golden glow illuminated the grey landscape creating an eerie and almost preternatural picture.

For Music Saturday, a piece from Michael Nyman’s soundtrack of Jane Campion’s film “The Piano”.

Friday, 28 August 2009

ORTHOREXIA


“The healthy being craves an occasional wildness, a jolt from normality, a sharpening of the edge of appetite, his own little festival of the Saturnalia, a brief excursion from his way of life.” - Robert MacIver

It is an obsession of our times (at least in certain parts of our communities) to eat “healthful, organic, additive-free food”. It is part of the “greening”, carbon footprint reduction, environmentally friendly revolution that is occurring world-wide. Don’t get me wrong, I too am environmentally conscious, I do my bit to reuse and recycle, we grow our vegetables and herbs in the backyard, we are water conscious and don’t waste our resources.

However, I refuse to go out of my way and search for organic, certified pesticide-free foods and do not waste my time searching in the markets for the “pure and natural” produce. Not so with some of our acquaintances. There is a woman we know who even goes and busy “organic” toothpaste (at $9.00 a tube!). The other day I saw a bottle of “organic water”. Once upon a time “organic” meant “manure” – as in “organic fertiliser” (which I love and spread liberally on our garden). Nowadays it is trendy to have organic everything. Even toothpaste!

Hence the obsession I mentioned at the beginning. Well, now it appears that the latest research into this organic craze has classified a new psychological disorder: “Orthorexia” (from Greek, orthos, “correct” and orexis “appetite”). People who suffer from this orthorectic disorder worry much about their health and the purity of their meals, they will only eat what they consider a healthful meal, organic produce and may deny themselves entire food groups. The typical person suffering from orthorexia nervosa is well-educated, middle class and over 30 years of age.

These orthorectics may eliminate sugar, caffeine, salt, alcohol, wheat, gluten, yeast, soy products, corn and dairy foods form their diet. Foods that contain pesticide traces, or have additives like MSG or preservatives may also be avoided. Nowadays, they may also go out of their way to hunt down and eschew genetically modified foods. The older term for these people was “food cranks”. Once again, don’t get me wrong, we all have our quirks about food. Even though I am of Mediterranean origin, I abhor black olives and fetta cheese (funnily enough I eat green olives and every other kind of cheese – now how cranky is that?). Also, we should exclude people with food allergies, who can have serious or even fatal reactions if they eat the allergenic food (eg, peanuts, seafood, egg, etc).

Orthorectics often have rigid (although, often completely irrational rules) about what they eat. This can lead to malnutrition and can make eating well nigh impossible, especially socially, putting a great strain on relationships and friendships. In their concern over the quality of food they put into their bodies, they reduce their quality of life and will often compromise their physical health as well as their mental health.

My great grandfather used to eat everything and anything. However, he always ate seasonal, fresh food and he ate sparingly. He used to say that when at table, you should always eat as much as would curb your hunger and no more. He said that if you left the table, you should have eaten so much that if you were compelled to sit and eat again at another table, you would be able to comfortably eat as much as you had eaten already. He lived well into his late nineties and was as healthy as an ox.

What I know is that there is a very fine line between those people who eat a healthful, balanced diet and who avoid the obvious “bad things” (too much salt, sugar, alcohol, preservatives) and those who are fully fledged orthorectics. Anything carried to excess is unhealthy, and perhaps even healthfulness being pursued to excess is unhealthy, as the studies show. Moderation in all things (and the occasional indulgence!) seems to lead to a better life all around.

Enjoy your weekend!

Thursday, 27 August 2009

ON MULTI-TASKING


“I am learning all the time. The tombstone will be my diploma.” - Eartha Kitt

Are you a person who multi-tasks? Typically, it is said, women multi-task easily and men have a very hard time doing so. I must be an exception to the male rule as I will quite happily multi-task (or at least devote time to a multitude of tasks within any one time). In any case, multi-taskers have been glorified and held up as shining examples of efficiency and competence. Up until now, that is… Clifford Nass, a Stanford University communications professor conducted a study on multitasking that has found some surprising results, contrary to popular belief.

The study showed that people who habitually multi-task are easily distracted and get bogged down by irrelevancies. The study found that those who juggle with multiple inputs, such as emails, web-searches, text chats and videos performed worse than those who concentrated their attention to one task at a time. Eyal Ophir the lead author of the research describes how the group of researchers kept trying to find something that multi-taskers did better than the group of single-taskers and they couldn’t find it. Multi-taskers were particularly bad at organising information and logically processing it. They also performed poorly when it came to remembering information and filtering out the “junk” data.

Social science has long held that people cannot process more than one string of information at a time. Concentrating on one task, one problem, one issue at a time seem to be the way that our brain is wired for maximum efficiency. Some other research appears to be in conflict with this and suggests that with some tasks the brain may be facilitated by the concurrent activity. For example it was reported several years ago that listening to Mozart’s music while studying improved memory and learning.

Alzheimer's patients exposed to music by Mozart also do better in spatial and social activities, and the famous composer's sonatas reduce electrical activity associated with seizures in epileptics. To date, no other type of music has delivered the same benefits. Experiments with rats who heard Mozart showed increased expression of genes responsible for stimulating and changing brain cell connections. "Smart" genes encouraged by the music included CREB, a learning and memory compound; BDNF, a nerve cell growth factor; and synapsin I, responsible for synapse formation. All improve function in the hippocampus, a brain area linked to learning and memory…

So if you must multi-task, then do it with Mozart playing in the background. Otherwise one thing at a time and listen to the sounds of silence!

multi-tasking |ˌməltiˈtaski ng; ˌməlˌtī-| noun Computing
The simultaneous execution of more than one program or task by a single computer processor.

DERIVATIVES
multi-task |ˈməltiˌtask; ˈməlˌtī-| verb

Human multi-tasking is the performance by an individual of appearing to handle more than one task at the same time. The term is derived from computer multi-tasking. An example of multi-tasking is listening to a radio interview while typing an email. Some believe that multi-tasking can result in time wasted due to human context switching and apparently causing more errors due to insufficient attention. Other research illustrates our brains are capable dealing with certain 'dual multiple tasks' at the same time.

ORIGIN: From Latin multus ‘much, many.’ & Middle English: From an Old Northern French variant of Old French tasche, from medieval Latin tasca, alteration of taxa, from Latin taxare ‘censure, charge’. An early sense of the verb was [impose a tax on.]

Jacqui BB is hosting Word Thursday

Wednesday, 26 August 2009

MINING THE ARCHIVES


“Man loves company even if it is only that of a small burning candle.” - Georg Christoph Lichtenberg

Mining the archives of old notebooks, I came across this poem written aeons ago. The memory of its writing is still fresh because it is associated with the piece of music that prompted its creation. It is the instrumental piece whose title is also serving as the title of the poem. It is by Greek singer-songwriter Georges Moustaki who became famous in France in the 1960s. This short guitar piece is a perfect little miniature and encapsulated at the time my feelings, which I hoped to express by writing this poem, vocalising the emotion implicit in the music.

Rue de Fossés Saint-Jacques

My loneliness,
A silver needle in my heart,
A wreath of flames on my head.
My loneliness,
A knot caught in my throat, stifling me,
Poisoned bitter wine,
On my lips killing me
With every sip, repeatedly.

My loneliness,
A guitar ringing out,
(With the G slightly out of tune)
In an empty room.
My loneliness,
A single bed, a white sheet
Like a snow-covered frigid plain.

My loneliness,
A promise that was never kept,
Wasted words only,
Taken like dead leaves by the wind.
My loneliness,
A salty tear and brumy eyes,
Secret sighs in a dark room,
The counting of hours until dawn.



Jacqui BB hosts Poetry Wednesday.

Monday, 24 August 2009

STORM!


“Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger.” - Saint Basil

A storm for Melbourne today. The weather bureau and the State Emergency Service have been warning resident of our city since yesterday about the cold front that would move through Melbourne at approximately 5:00 pm on Tuesday afternoon. There were all sorts of dire warnings, with winds predicted to reach speeds of 120 km/hr in some parts of the state. Commuters in the City (of which I am one!) were warned to leave work early in order to not have their schedule disrupted by service interruptions to trains and trams.

The temperatures were quite low today compared with the past two weeks and our building was frigidly cold this morning when I got to work just after seven. There were problems with the heating, apparently, but fortunately I have a small heater in my office and it was able to warm it up once I closed the door. I had to pop out to the bank at lunchtime and the wind was chilly. However, in the afternoon, the sky was quite blue and the sun was shining, although it was still cold. Some people began to laugh and joke about the weather bureau getting it wrong once again…

On the train this afternoon on the way home, the sky began to darken ominously, the wind began to blow (hard!) and by the time I got home it was dark and dismal, and the heavens did indeed open up and the wind blew forcefully to give us a storm the likes of which of we don’t often see. Still it wasn’t as bad as most people expected, but nevertheless, enough to make it worthy of blogging about…

The rain of course is blessed. With our perpetual drought and dwindling water supplies in Victoria, the storm with its bucketfuls of rain was a pleasure to behold. We have been told that our water in the future will be assured as it will be supplied by a desalination plant, for which tenders have been submitted and between the two finalists one was successful. This desalted water will be at a considerable cost. The taxpayers have already paid for the unsuccessful tender, the losing company given a “consolation payment” by our State Government running into several millions of dollars. The winning tender will be given generous concessions and of course the water prices and rates will increase precipitously once the water begins to flow to the consumers. After all, we shall need to maintain the executives of a private company to the life style they have been accustomed in their previous employ. Six figure salaries, share packages, generous superannuation, tax benefits and a golden handshake that runs into several millions of dollars when they finally retire.

Utilities like electricity, water, gas, telephone services, postal services, health care, etc, should be government-owned and run. Two decades ago, when this was the case in Australia, there were jobs, cheap rates, good service and government accountability for failures, poor service and rate hikes. Now that we have privatised it all, who can tell where we shall end up? Perhaps the readers of this blog in the USA can tell us?

Here is a short video I shot through the front room window while the rain was pelting down.

Sunday, 23 August 2009

MOVIE MONDAY - THE SAVAGES


“You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.” - Douglas MacArthur

My grandfather always used to say: “Parents can look after their ten children, but the ten children can’t look after their two parents”. I guess this is a fact of life in so many cases because just when the parents get old and decrepit and need care, their children have their own children and need to look after the next generation. However, in many cultures the extended family tradition is still alive and well and is a way that family members can all live together and support each other across the generations. In most Western countries, the nuclear family has all but made the extended family obsolete and a relic of the past. This creates numerous problems and leads to situations that are depicted in the film that we watched at the weekend.

The Tamara Jenkins 2007 film “The Savages” starring Laura Linney, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Philip Bosco explores the way that two children (Linney and Hoffman) cope with their dementing father (Bosco) who needs to be put into care. The situation is complicated by the preexisting relationship (or rather lack of it) that these two children had with their parents. The mother abandoned them when young and their father was anything but a caring parent. However, the blood ties are strong enough for these two scarred individuals to want to “do the right thing”.

The film works on many levels. The story is everyday and trite in many ways, but because of this, it reeks of humanity and appeals to the viewer because one can identify with characters and situations in many ways. There is subtle humour, pathos, humility and sadness in this movie and one can see it and become embarrassed because there are many venial sins depicted that could be on any one of our consciences. This wasn’t a film that moved me particularly, although I felt involved and there was a great sense of pity that I felt for all the characters.

The daughter is a thirty something relief worker who is trying to get a grant to write a play. She is having an affair with a married man fifteen years her senior, lies about unimportant things and downs pills of all sorts. Her reactions are emotional, a little unstable, motivated by the love she has been denied when growing up. The son is older, apparently more down-to-earth, ostensibly more sensible and less inclined to emotional outbursts, but nevertheless conceals a soft centre and is not coping with his relationship with a Polish woman whose visa has run out and get out of the country.

The father is perhaps the most enigmatic of the characters as he is the one who has the least to say, but is perhaps the one we wished said the most. He is played beautifully by Philip Bosco and he acts as the catalyst for the great changes that will occur in his children’s life after the interaction they have with him in the twilight of his life. The supporting role of Lenny (the daughter married lover) played by Peter Friedman is an excellent casting choice and to a certain extent this character acts as a fulcrum for the changes that happen later in the film.

Tamara Jenkins (who also wrote the script) directs form the heart and gets everything right in this film. The chemistry amongst the cast is great and the cinematography very good. The stark contrast between retirement-ville in Arizona with its manicured lawns and plastic-like shrubs, and the cold, wintry, stark New England landscape is symbolic and poignant. The music provides a good support for the action, is often a bridge or transition and a reminder of the former times that the father is regressing into. Overall, a very satisfying film, well worth seeing.