secret: creative brain fry, or, the fine art of pottering

i don't know about you folks, but when i have a lot of things on my plate (not literally, although i do love a good full plate of thanksgiving dinner) my creative will to live just disappears out the window.

when i finally do have a night off, and i have to say i haven't had one in a while, i need some decompression time, in the form of pottering. i thought i'd share the sorts of things that happen during a pottering session in my lovely (chaotic) space.

music debrief:

i've had a few "must listens" floating about lately on my ever-expanding list of things to listen to. thanks to a music-loving friend with whom i share many great favourites, i was reminded that a certain amount of time has passed since i'd listened to some of my all-time bestest favourites, namely Radiohead and Elliott Smith. I'm really digging this particular track from Elliott:



and OK Computer reminiscence (let's face it: Radiohead in general) lead me right to this beautiful thing that i once was able to play on piano, harder than you'd imagine.



i also have quite a lot of live footage to watch from my all time favourite thing i've found on YouTube so far, tiny desk concerts via NPR. crazy into The National at the moment, and so this show has pretty much given me the feeling where the world opens up and you fall in love, right down to your little toe.



apologies for the music-heavy sharing, but i just can't get enough of this at the moment. so of course, it's time to make my november Maude the Mazda Mix (they are famous, but only in very tight circles of maybe 2 people, one of which is me... the other is one of my brothers, whichever one is handy).

YouTube giggles

my YouTube dirty pleasure is interviews on ellen, mostly when it's ryan gosling. i recommend you look that up, the one in onesies in particular.

besides this, i also like to watch standup comedy from such greats as dylan moran and louis ck.





Pretty things

i am a bowerbird when it comes to pretty things. sometimes, when i'm pottering, i like to arrange my pretty stuff that i own into aesthetically pleasing combinations.

all of the favourites, but of particular note is the sweet 'hello' necklace from the awesome anna at The Eclective, the sweet and special 'imaginary lovers' zine from deerface, and my granny's old copy of Alice in Wonderland

sometimes, i like to just sit in my chair and rifle through books i haven't actually read yet, looking forward to having time to read them. 

this weekend just passed i had a great score from a book stall at the local steiner school's spring fair, and the illustrations are so much lovelier than disney characters. don't get me wrong, i love the disney classics, i'm just a bit bored of what disney thinks people look like.

Writing notes and letters, and finding old things I wrote once

i found this recently. a thing i scrawled into the back of a notebook long ago, when i still lived in melbourne and longed to escape whatever it was at that point that held me there:

i have a fantasy about swimming in an open air pool at night time in summer. this fantasy is so tangible to me that i wonder if it may in fact have happened once, a dormant memory of sliding into a pool the temperature of my warm arms, the weightlessness of my previously cumbersome body, sounds echoing off the water.
surely it has happened, at one time, to somebody; how else could we know how it feels to swim at night? the cocoon of water closing over and into my ears, the smell, or imagined smell, of warm jasmine blowing overhead all through Brunswick.
i can hear my own gasping breath as i pull to the surface each 4th stroke, and i feel my heart hammering. why must my words end here? for suddenly, the warm summer night is lost to the absence that is you my dear, and all i remember is floating, face down, with night city noises filtering through the pool water.

i write postcards and letters to the friends of far away that i am missing lots lately, perhaps because i get to see them again soon.


these are the things i do o a quiet quiet Monday night. and find new artists to fall in love with, again on YouTube (such a magical place).

i leave you with a beautiful tattooed man whom i shall perhaps one day meet and marry.

treasure: the Rad Book Club

I've always, always wanted to be in a book club. Since I could read, I've read a lot. More than a lot of other people, which meant that it was hard to find someone with whom to share the joy of reading. And I guess, let's be honest, you don't hear a lot about book clubs for seven year olds.

I love reading. Books have shaped my life in a way that is subtle and yet, there's probably nothing so groundingly reassuring as a book. Re-reading a favourite, or curling up to take in another chapter of a new novel that surprises you as it unfolds, reminding you of people you know; a good book can shed light on feelings you've had that you couldn't explain before. The characters become familiar; you love them, you hate them, you want them to succeed, you want them to be undone by their wicked ways.

I love the way my reading habits haven't changed over the years, but my approach to reading has. As a younger child, I read for entertainment; to feed my imagination, to take me far away from a sheep farm in Kentucky. As a teenager, I read voraciously, searching for those wonderful adolescent characters who didn't belong either, but somehow triumphed over bullies and parents and society in general, as role models, as reassurance that my angst was well-founded. I remember sinking into depression after the death of my favourite character in John Marsden's Tomorrow When the War Began series. My poor mother had no idea what was wrong with me, or why I was crying into my dinner at the kitchen table.

Sometimes, when I wonder if I'll ever write a book, I think of writing for this age- the age where everything is so passionately felt, so dramatic, so filled with angst. It's also the time when you wonder if there's something weird about you when you'd rather be reading at home than going out to partake in some underage drinking and kissing boys (well, honestly, I was curious about kissing boys initially but that curiousity was quickly dispelled with my first boyfriend: a sloppy kisser). If I was ever to write a book, it would be one that reassured the young people that it's ok to enjoy books for fun.  Or like writing English essays. Or get good marks. Or study for your exams. Basically, be a good kid that lulls your parents into a false sense of security so your little brothers can get away with murder when it's their turn.

Imagine my delight at starting a BA in Melbourne and being suddenly surrounded by nerdy book people such as myself! But no, oh, wait a minute, University of Melbourne Arts students have read EVERYTHING that's worth name dropping, and they can drop a name like it's hot. Slowly but surely I managed to read a lot of these books just so I could talk the talk (and I still wonder how many of them had actually read the list they were taking credit for). I studied books, ending up with an English Literature major. Wonderful. Still, there was a culture of snobbery to it all that left me a little cold - I read chick-lit as my trashy guilty pleasure, and only my best friend Ellie, so far away in Sydney, understood my love of Jill Mansell and her wonderful book formula. I have to admit that despite this one secret, I too became a little trendy, cynical and name-droppy.

In the years since I have found myself reading pretty much anything. Books I never thought I'd read: Stephen King, Mills & Boon, 50 Shades of Grey, Twilight. Popular culture and popular literature are a phenomenon with which I'd like to be familiar. No stone unturned, no book unread. All that.

Having moved back to my hometown (and having nearly been here a year now), I've gradually collected for myself a lovely group of friends. And they like to read books! After some initiative on the lovely Ellie's part, the Rad Book Club has been born. We had a get-together last night, for some warm food and talk of books (and I think we covered a few other things as well). We now have a reading list. One book per month, each of us having chosen a book which means we're committed for a year, or thereabouts.

I'm going to share my thoughts on these books with you all as we go. Because I'd like to be able to review a book, and I'm not sure I know how anymore. A few of the choices I have read before, but most of them will be new to me, and are (somewhat) classics I can cross of my 'books to read before I die so I can drop them impressively into conversation' list. 

In case you want to read along, out there in the netosphere, our reading list (stay tuned for additions from Gabi, Hanna and Ellen) is as follows:

Year of Wonders - Geraldine Brooks
For Esme- with Love and Squalor- JD Salinger
On the Road - Jack Kerouac
Pinball - Haruki Murakami
Poisonwood Bible - Barbara Kingsolver
The African Queen - C.S. Forester
Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut

secret: mail surprise

That hilarious moment when mail turns up at work for you and it's books you ordered online when you were drunk and then promptly forgot about.

Other people jump off things or tell everyone their secrets and hidden pains, I buy second hand books online.

#yolo

treasure: family holiday

We're on a family beach holiday. We arrived this afternoon, my brother and me, after an airport greeting and a stop for groceries and a drive north along the Pacific Highway that brought us to Seal Rocks.

We've not done this family holiday thing before, and the novelty itself is entertaining. The beach is below us, within walking distance, a pretty bay for swimming and sitting to look at from a deck with a table and chairs provided for putting feet up on, faded outside cushions for lounging on after morning swims.

I will be reading all the books, swimming at least 2 times a day (and maybe at night) and having naps. I will mend myself, the bits that make my brain sore and hold me back from the satisfaction I demand.

All the books.

treasure: melbourne

in 2004, the year after i finished my HSC, i got the hell out of armidale and moved to melbourne. melbourne held the promise of adulthood, change and challenge, the glamour of artists and poets and philosophers.

i was there 5 and a half years. there's plenty to reflect upon, but i found it very telling the past few times around, visiting after having left 3.5 years ago, how i felt about the beloved city and the people in it that i saw.

perhaps it's just that i've distilled my friendship group into the Very Best of Melbourne. perhaps it's that the buzz of city has finally become exciting again; full of promised inspiration and movement and sparkle. it's nice to visit a city and already know your way around; your favourite bar; your favourite dish at tom phat; the ways of the trams.

i had a beautiful time. during my 'just-home' tour of july 2012, i hung out at beth's house and we sat on the upstairs balcony and enjoyed winter sunshine and the ambient sounds of deconstruction, as the old Royal Children's got unceremoniously trashed by a wrecking crew. i drank at Bar Etiqette, hung about at the bar and giggled happily at yanni and mikey's antics, marvelled at the crowds and the hipster population. i met friends and missed friends, filled with generosity of people who'd only had facebook as a means of following about what i'm certain seemed like a very silly and decadent life of snow and drinking. they bought me drinks, they let me stay, they asked good questions (some people, none of whom i am good friends with, have nothing in the way of curiosity or comment about your recently different lifestyle. they have nothing to say and nothing to ask and it's all very awkward and boring).

aaron and i have recently returned from the 'everyone meet my boyfriend' tour of early 2013 and yup, i still love melbourne. despite the heat i drank plenty of coffee, cottoning onto the concept of iced coffee on saturday morning for a win. i took him on a tour of what i think of as my Melbourne, with a bit of shopping, a few bookstores, some very good eating and this time round i could afford $18 cocktails, so we had some of those too. we hung out with iggy, the coolest kid i know, we feasted on indian and thai with mat and tash, i drank ciders at bar etiquette with beth, sylvia and laura, which turned into a bottle of wine each at Gurkha's Nepalese next door to the bar.

there was a lovely picnic in carlton gardens and some attempted frisbee by joe and laila, picnic rug fun with thea (and amazing gluten free passionfruit melting moments), wine, cheese, smoked salmon and olive tapenade from the Queen Vic Markets.

 
there was a 44 degree day where we stayed inside, windowshopping our way up the 4 levels of Melbourne Central where i bought 4 dresses for $140 (what a bargain!). we perused fed square's NGV bookstore longingly, scoffed a big pile of dumplings at Shanghai Dumpling House in Chinatown, saw some great graffiti and biggest bonus of all, got to drive mat & tash's mercedes benz about the place, feeling like a pretty big deal as we cruised around with a breeze blowing through our hair and a devil-may-care attitude.

it is The Life, Melbourne, and i hope one day i will have the chance to live there again- i feel as though all the things that pushed me away from it and into the arms of a willing whistler are manageable, and that perhaps there is more for me there that i have no yet discovered. perhaps i'll  do a phd at University of Melbourne one day, perhaps i'll only ever visit for holidays from now on...

it might be far away but it's never forgotten.

#fmsphotoadaynovember 4. TV

i know, it's not a tv. i know that.

i've watched a lot of things in the past few years. i used to be a reader, and a writer, and that's what i want to be again. so i'm avoiding TV. not quite in the way you might attempt to avoid someone in the supermarket (never works, by the way). more in a way you might aim to avoid a bakery if you were trying not to eat wheat anymore.

the books above are not at all high-brow. i know this. these are the books you might read on holiday, or on sunday night when you need something mindless before you go to sleep. Miranda's Big Mistake, and Jill Mansell in general, was introduced to me by ellie, and i tell you, they are simply delicious. over the years i believe i've read them all. they have a reliable plot, they inevitably have one character who is a curvy size 14, completely happy with her body, and drives all the men wild. they have a set up where the main female character meets the man she will eventually end up with in some scenario where they are enemies, or have a falling out, or some such. but as the book progresses, they gradually come around to the realisation that they love each other. the side plots are equally concerned with those girls getting their man too, and i tell you, they're just wonderful.

i'm working up to more impressive books. i think i'll read some fantasy next, on my way to literary merit.

day 07. a picture of someone/something that has had a big impact on you.

i think really for me, the biggest impacting factors in my life have been books and music.

so many great amazing examples, but i've been thinking carefully to track it back:

the first books i read that made me cry. i got so depressed in the 3rd one when robyn killed herself to save the others that i cried all weekend.

the realisation that someone can create something fictional that draws you in, makes you attached to the characters to the point where losing them is like losing real friends... that definitely had a big impact on me. they're hardly award-winning prose, but i loved them. they're also the first books i was told i wasn't allowed to read because i wasn't old enough yet. obviously i thought 'screw that' and read them anyway.

it made me want to write, to create characters that other people get attached to. i don't know how i would go killing people off, but it's something i really want to try, writing to capture my audience... that's why i want to write teen fiction. i want to move people the way i was moved by these books.

and OK computer is my musical 'big impact'.

i think i was 16. i bought this album in tamworth while mum and i were on a shopping trip.

i bought it because a boy i liked told me radiohead were his favourite band, and i wanted to know more about him by listening to music he liked. it was rainy and we drove back to kentucky and i put it on in the car and it blew my freekin mind.

listening to radiohead opened me up to all sorts of different music, because radiohead taught me that sometimes you have to persist with music, to let it grow on you, so you can hear all the parts, the hidden bits...

and that's the story behind that.