tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88408462129292273802011-04-21T22:11:33.066-07:00trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.comBlogger3591100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-9165625631133304782008-07-14T00:55:00.000-07:002008-07-14T01:03:27.801-07:00

The Pilgrim's Progress is a Protestant text. It was written by John Bunyan in the late seventeenth century in an environment of intense political and religious turmoil. It is an allegorical text which recounts the spiritual journey of a single pilgrim, imaginatively named Christian. He encounters an evangelist who sets him on the path of deliverance.It is therefore largely unsuitable to any

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-43300238497819085722008-07-13T03:18:00.001-07:002008-07-13T03:26:46.015-07:00

This post has little to say to you if you are:Gluten-intolerantCarb-phobicReticent about garlicSqueamish about chilliVegetarianWeaning off deadly nightshades (Weirdos. I'd be very interested to know whether this blog has any readers who genuinely do follow a macrobiotic diet.Not sold on fennelpurist about recipe/cuisine adaptation*If you don't tick any of the above boxes, let me commend pasta (

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-4237160616396261272008-07-13T03:14:00.000-07:002008-07-13T03:16:52.520-07:00

GodDAMN I love Doctor Who's eyebrows. They're so commendably, wonderfully quizzical. I had a terrible crush on the dashing Christopher Eccleston but this puckish, earnest Tennant chap is really growing on me and the supra-ocular hair is why.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-75764376750747998612008-07-04T16:40:00.000-07:002008-07-04T16:52:22.643-07:00

You could call me cynical. And you could call me hungover. And both of these designations would be truthful. Still, I a little appalled to discover Jane McGrath's photo on the front cover of the Smage's weekend magazines. It's another excerpt from Glenn's biography about his life with his recently deceased wife. Wimmin's Weekly and Womyn's Day both seem to feature similar stories - which is

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-77122293229450070492008-07-03T15:10:00.000-07:002008-07-03T15:21:15.554-07:00

I saw Martin McDonagh's The Pillowman upstairs at the Belvoir last night. It's a dynamite show and I strongly advise every who can to see it. It's one to outrage the pilgrims, however, and it would be irresponsible for me to fail to add that the play is not only violent and tense but very very cruel. It's a piece which toys with the audience's desires for redemption, transcendence, and readily

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-84810604663519204902008-07-03T15:02:00.000-07:002008-07-03T15:07:29.367-07:00

Just a taste from Iain Sinclair's terrific essay on development, the Olympics and London in the LRB.The scam of scams was always the Olympics: Berlin in 1936 to Beijing in 2008. Engines of regeneration. Orgies of lachrymose nationalism. War by other means. Warrior-athletes watched, from behind dark glasses, by men in suits and uniforms. The pharmaceutical frontline. Rogue Californian chemists

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-88170590092693990132008-06-29T16:53:00.001-07:002008-06-29T17:01:04.134-07:00

'They have both been seen as writers who will push boundaries and write about controversial and currant topics.'Seen by whom?, I always wonder when faced with this rotten locution. And what are the latest controversies in dried fruit circles? Has the great orange peel in fruit bread dilemma been set to rest? Does anyone know where I can buy sub-dried plums (as opposed to Angas Park prunes) and

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-57558110488579377802008-06-27T21:11:00.001-07:002008-06-27T21:21:48.534-07:00

Use the adjective poignant with caution. Ditto unique.The word impact is not a verb. Profligate use of the construction it seems is not helpful to the purposes of scholarly exposition. Ditto it can be seen.Almost is rarely a worthwhile qualification.Everything you have heard about abuse of the passive voice is true.Recount is not a noun. Account and narrative are useful synonyms.Affect can be

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-28827263696668294482008-06-26T18:20:00.000-07:002008-06-26T18:25:57.685-07:00

Oh, I've been neglecting this blog. Things have happened. Time has passed. One of the wheels has undergone a revolution and I'm back at my desk marking take-home exams. If I ever set up a teaching blog (unlikely), I will offer the following as pre-emptive passive aggressive antidotes to the stylistic infelicities so frequently presented by my students. Firstly, The "Blog" of "Unnecessary"

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-53258564603887974492008-06-15T23:25:00.000-07:002008-06-15T23:35:10.893-07:00

It's Bloomsday and I'm a binge drinker, Stephen Dedalus is a binge drinker, and Leopold Bloom is a binge drinker. Via LP and Crikey, we're all binge drinkers. If four standard drinks - less than three glasses of wine - qualifies as a binge, I'm in trouble. It strikes me that there's a reality disconnect with the NHMRC here. And it also strikes me as a little bit bloody unfair. I stop smoking,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-47497565662837674642008-06-13T18:50:00.001-07:002008-06-13T19:05:55.711-07:00

1) On the tableA funeral isn't a great pretext for a daytrip to Melbourne. Thursday's trip wasn't all ghastly. At the wake, a distinguished octogenarian with a commodore's blazer and a toothbrush moustache winked at me like a rogue over a glass of champagne. And for brunch, my sister sat me down at the Richmond Hill Larder and Cafe and told me to order these.Baghdad eggs is what they are. I'm

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-65537105062586253782008-06-09T15:01:00.000-07:002008-06-09T15:04:06.389-07:00

So, somewhat uncharacteristically, I forgot to set my alarm and missed my yogic matins. Instead, the foul shrieking maw of a leafblower wrenched me into consciousness. It's been raining and I suppose the leaves are sticking to the ground and need extra-vigorous blasts from the apparatus. Situations like this put me in a mind to write to the council.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-15327274673734863732008-06-09T03:36:00.000-07:002008-06-09T03:37:49.300-07:00

Something I never thought I'd see: Ron Silliman blogging Battlestar Galactica. Language poetry meets sci-fi. Weird.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-3161230358911171772008-06-09T03:15:00.001-07:002008-06-09T03:34:29.409-07:00

I blame Faulkner. Spiky pieces of the past have been perforating the present all week. I find myself with leisure and boom! - nostalgia, displacement, sentiment.Last week, I walked down Lodge St in Glebe to have a beer at the Nag's Head with my colleagues. Ten years ago, I lived next door to the Nag's in a house that tumbled into a tiny concrete garden held together by a dodgy picket fence.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-60431342824903924392008-06-09T03:12:00.001-07:002008-06-09T03:12:50.858-07:00

If I’d had my camera on hand today, I could’ve collected images for yet another tale of this city. I walked down from Elizabeth St down through the sandstone tunnel to Eddy Avenue, past a chalked mural of pleas to Isis, pyramids, acid spirals, paeans against sexual repression. It looked like a set of notes for a Tom Robbins novel and it won’t be there tomorrow.Belmore Park reclined beneath the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-49220133597973459462008-06-08T06:14:00.000-07:002008-06-08T06:16:09.645-07:00

I predict that much will be said, written and gnashed about Matthew Newton’s film Three Blind Mice. It premiered at the Sydney Film Festival tonight.The good things that you might hear tomorrow are that it was shot on a shoestring (a real shoestring, not one of those five million dollar shoestrings that sound like that could do more than keep you shod); that the energy and goodwill which

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-66531166416513155982008-05-31T03:14:00.000-07:002008-05-31T03:25:46.865-07:00

Can love:Human Tetris.Can't love:Bonnie 'Prince' Billy. Having been bombarded with recommendations to *really listen* to this feller, I can honestly say I've tried. Furthermore, I intend to try no more. I'm not fundamentally opposed to moany acoustic types. There's room in my iPod for Emmy Lou Harris and Devendra and Gillian Welsh and Edith Frost and Elliot Smith and M.Ward and, to be frank,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-43719389030107403212008-05-30T17:28:00.001-07:002008-05-30T17:32:49.826-07:00

WTF. I thought my own private tech-curse, the touch that turns efficient technology into unwieldy lumps of plastic and metal, had struck once more. I must have caused the sudden bounceback of all the correspondence from my gmail account to any hotmail accounts. I surfed the help pages, I visited tech advice sites, I updated my browser, I cursed my curseworthy ISP, for crying out loud. And now

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-71577954818309943162008-05-30T04:11:00.000-07:002008-05-30T04:21:47.662-07:00

What this is is a mid-evening apology for a failure to post anything of note. If I had world enough and time – or rather, a smaller pile of essays to mark, fewer writing tasks, and no sleep deficit – I’d pen a series of wonderful texts as per the below. Who knows, some of these might even find their way back onto the wires, once this next week’s looming deadlines have fallen.An imaginary

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-70941866954276630472008-05-25T04:56:00.000-07:002008-05-25T05:01:59.171-07:00

Martinis being lamentably distant from my life at the moment, I was heartened to discover that Science, unlike me, is not neglecting this important topic. Shaken martinis, according to research discussed here, have remarkable chemical properties. What they don't mention is that unless the gin is poured straight from the freezer, the shaking agitates and melts the ice, thus diluting the booze.The

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-58697736708375664632008-05-24T04:00:00.000-07:002008-05-24T04:16:25.358-07:00

For all that I enjoy slagging Dickens, I'll say this for him: he holds up under a late night skim read. The same cannot be said for Faulkner, alas. I read Absalom, Absalom years ago, just the once. This is not helping me re-read it any faster right now. If I had time, of course I'd wittily reflect on how the idiosyncrasies of my own processes of recollection and recognition mirror the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-31513679597394262632008-05-18T00:25:00.000-07:002008-05-18T00:37:25.945-07:00

There was an alarm.There was a hangover.There was a pair of red suede boots.There was a family shivoo at an uncivilised hour on the wrong side of the bridge.There was a navigational crisis.There was a bumper-meets-bumper-on-a-Mosman-morning incident.There was sun and water.There was salt-cod for breakfast.There was a wholesome stroll up a hill narrowly evaded by virtue of inappropriate

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-36048595742110157742008-05-16T00:12:00.000-07:002008-05-16T00:17:02.567-07:00

All my anecdotage is coming from Bob Dylan these days. I learnt this from the 'Birds' episode of Theme Time Radio Hour (ep. 21 of series 2).If I were reincarnated, I'd want to come back a buzzard. Nothing hates him or envies him or wants him or needs him. He is never bothered or in danger, and he can eat anything.William FaulknerIncidentally, the buzzard is la buse (pr. la booze) en français.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-63442721135506040842008-05-15T23:21:00.001-07:002008-05-15T23:31:37.252-07:00

Location: A class on Nietzsche.Me: Oooh kaaeeeey. The aphorism. Why is the form of the aphorism so important to Nietzsche? What does it suggest about his attitude to knowledge?Class: ....uuuuum.Me: Anyone?Class: (Perfect silence. Divine awe-inspiring silence.)Me: The aphorism. Right then. Let's have a look at an example so we have something substantial to work with. Can someone read

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-71009207128658710312008-05-15T14:35:00.001-07:002008-05-15T14:44:42.975-07:00

Apart from the predictable irks - not enough money to address climate change in anyone's budget, my current assymetrical work-life balance, the very phenomenon of frozen meals, most of the bestseller lists - I compile a non-exhaustive list of irritates which my life would be better without.Couples who work out together at the gym.People who send innumerable emails to a list complaining about the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-27995398557843719262008-05-14T05:48:00.000-07:002008-05-14T06:10:55.234-07:00

OK, I'm a total dorkus. I responded to this meme which I found here. But hey, I recently got a little older and hence a little more impervious to the judgments of others about internet quizzes. What we have here is the top 106 books most often marked as “unread” by LibraryThing’s users. As in, they sit on the shelf to make you look smart or well-rounded. Most of my books are in storage so

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-27551514358514949802008-05-11T17:13:00.000-07:002008-05-11T17:25:29.909-07:00

Diddling–or the abstract idea conveyed by the verb to diddle–is sufficiently well understood. Yet the fact, the deed, the thing, diddling, is somewhat difficult to define. We may get, however, as a tolerably distinct conception of the matter in hand, by defining–not the thing, diddling, in itself, but man, as an animal that diddles. Had Plato but hit upon this, he would have been spared the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-10599420235598623572008-05-11T01:59:00.000-07:002008-05-11T02:23:45.738-07:00

mushrooms mushrooms mushrooms singing garlic mushrooms mushrooms pepper mushrooms salt mushrooms and mushrooms rye rye rye wry mushrooms pepper and mushrooms mushrooms garlic garlic mushrooms looming blushmoons mushrooms garlic beckoning mushrooms mushrooms rosemary rye rosemary with mushrooms mushrooms to mushrooms wallowing garlic mushrooms hushrooms and salt salt slatternly salt I'm tired.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-13573715065711256612008-05-09T16:34:00.000-07:002008-05-09T16:43:51.666-07:00

A. Wild Bill Hickok, Al Jolson, Buster Keaton, the gangster Arnold RothsteinThese are the things you learn from Theme Time Radio Hour.This article crunches the numbers and exposes the contents of Dylan's brain. Not many ladies, lots of Tom Waits. Oh Bob. Much more appealing than a sheaf of presentations on Huck Finn. I've just downloaded the two Round the World episodes to fuel my escapist

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-13514612562578650832008-05-09T15:57:00.000-07:002008-05-09T16:15:19.671-07:00

The last photo posted on this blog is a picture of Amy Sedaris sucking on a can of whipped cream. This strikes me as Bad. Here's something better.It's a photo of the splatters from dinner last night! Slow-cooked fennel, chorizo and and tomato: Pollock in the kitchen. (Another gripe about Amy Sedaris: anti-garlic, anti-chilli.) I'm teaching Highway 61 Revisited in a couple of weeks so I

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-15446695310514733772008-05-09T15:22:00.000-07:002008-05-09T15:57:05.389-07:00

I've been trying to sculpt a witty set of informed opinions on the work of David Sedaris over the last few weeks. Five years too late, I understand: the dry wave of Sedaris apparently hit its peak some time back yonder. I've stretched out my hands to the zeitgeist and if the handful I've managed to grab is from the section marked 'archaic,' too bad. I'm still not quite convinced as to the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-57474946499897199402008-05-08T19:31:00.000-07:002008-05-08T19:47:46.317-07:00

Upbeat is a dangerous mode. And jocund is a dangerous word. Featured in line 16 of Wordsworth's 'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,' not my favourite poem by not my favourite poet, 'jocund' was discussed three times on in class on Wednesday. It was the only word which needed definition in the poem. Not only that, there were No Allusions to identify. The poem didn't have notes because the poem

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-7317398563581238222008-05-04T00:57:00.000-07:002008-05-04T00:59:07.261-07:00

"As described in tutorial by Catriona, status kept people high up in society.'Anyone seen Dead Poets Society?

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-11788376300872439152008-05-03T19:09:00.000-07:002008-05-03T19:26:31.862-07:00

Here’s a list of the things I’m not going to do today:Go to the Kings Cross Food and Wine festival to harass the monger of smoked fishes into becoming my friend.Sit in the park and read the paper, bloody Richard bloody Ford, or any of the books sitting on my shelves.Prepare for Tuesday’s Gatsby classes.Drink red wine.Join my sister’s Sopranos marathon on the couch.Drink gin.Wear a frock.Further

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-1642486219785482682008-05-02T21:56:00.000-07:002008-05-02T22:04:27.759-07:00

I'm still marking essays. It's awful and incessant and exhausting; my eyes are crossed and my ankles are swelling. Slightly woozy as I am, I'm not sure whether to be delighted or appalled by the following consideration of Oedipus Rex, quoted verbatim.Relationships between family is a main theme in Sophicheles plays, and he could be saying that relationships are a key factor in any ideal life.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-52738364485103462902008-05-01T04:08:00.000-07:002008-05-01T04:17:58.191-07:00

Passing the 7-11 ATM on Daaaahlinghurst Rd. This evening. Light Drizzle.Green jacket (hand held shakily to jaw): What can't I remember my PIN?Shorter (shriller): Because you're stupid.Green jacket: Shiiiit.Billboard at KX station. Stuffy.You'd be home by now if you lived in Adelaide.Recollections of mid-afternoons lost. Breezy.A. has cholesterol problems. He can't eat butter until the pains

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-69314679802164957562008-04-25T18:21:00.001-07:002008-04-25T18:24:42.876-07:00

My all-time student orthographical failure occurred in a discussion of a poem lamenting the death of a loved one. The poem was described as an ellergy. I laughed so much I sneezed. An ellergic reaction, clearly.Trawling yet another pile of paper for wit, I am provoked to ask the following question.Your demons. Would you rather they be exorcised or exercised? Me, I'm considering taking the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-82640497767627384802008-04-24T19:18:00.000-07:002008-04-24T19:24:10.557-07:00

Has the word 'delinquent' fallen out of fashionable usage? If I were a cultural warrior, would I ascribe the absence of this word in reportage of juvenile justice issues to the blight of Political Correctness? Why has 'hooligan' retained a currency that 'delinquent' appears to have lost? Or am I just moving in the wrong circles?I've been marking essays on Alan Sillitoe's 1959 short story, 'The

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-9153112274736197972008-04-24T15:35:00.001-07:002008-04-24T15:41:54.189-07:00

The perks of academic life are eluding me. It's half past eight on a public holiday morning and I've got a squillion essays to mark. No two-up, no Dawn Service, no mid-afternoon beers, just a loop of essays to mark, tute papers to mark, articles to edit. Sigh. For reasons which have little to do with the glorification of military defeat, Anzac Day is my least favourite public holiday. Still,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-61640064626526945602008-04-24T03:36:00.001-07:002008-04-24T03:37:58.696-07:00

I fairly swooned in the supermarkey when I saw this one. Such a haze of whiteness, - teeth, veil, gardenia, shirt - all serving to emphasise that wonderful headline.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-40464134453534016792008-04-23T16:28:00.000-07:002008-04-23T16:31:31.108-07:00

Although I passed through KX station several times yesterday, I didn't once make it to William St. Had I, perhaps I would have seen this banner. Four people have been charged. I wonder if the fact that the Coke sign is now heritage listed increased the penalties.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-10440200902694433002008-04-18T16:10:00.001-07:002008-04-18T16:23:48.498-07:00

Oh, the details. I'm still transfixed by 2020. I just heard one of the 'i' words for the first time - 'inspiring.' I note:Lots of weekend cardigans (M and F). Many open collars.The National Anthem, led and awkwardly harmonised by a choir. My 9.07 tardy Summit offering? Two for the price of one. New flag. New anthem.A section of John Farnham's 'Age of Reason' played as Michael Jeffery

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-27283897689333674132008-04-18T15:42:00.000-07:002008-04-18T16:05:41.839-07:00

Ah, the return to rude health! Flexing my lungs, verily bouncing with the floorboards after a dose of even more hearty day-old miso (white, with leek and tofu), I'm as frisky as a lamb, fit enough to fight with a fiddle or bait a turkey. Enfin. But due to last night's key twisting debacle, I'm locked into my apartment watching the preamble to the 2020 Summit. With my laptop on my knees. This

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-59584554442966588742008-04-18T03:41:00.001-07:002008-04-18T03:49:46.882-07:00

I am no stranger to loud and melodious neighbours. One of my little sisters studied the bagpipes for an interlude. Her bedroom was next to mine. For an unbroken interval of years, I had a least one flatmate who owned a djembe or similar African drum.In that same period, I lived next door to a pub which played 'New York, New York' at closing time every single night. I still get misty for Frank.I

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-63876209823575674232008-04-17T20:25:00.000-07:002008-04-17T20:37:40.830-07:00

Location: A room in a tertiary institution somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Stained glass windows. Functional AV equipment. A morning class.The lights go up in the middle of a discussion on the representation of social difference in certain literary texts. Thus far we have touched on class ('I personally am quite offended by the way that upper-class people are negatively stereotyped. We

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-55082587774207716092008-04-17T20:07:00.000-07:002008-04-17T20:24:12.773-07:00

I knew I'd taken this photographs of poached peaches gone mouldy on the bench for a reason.It wasn't to illustrate some cautionary tale about food wastage; this photo was clearly destined to express my state of health for most of this week. I traveled through East Africa and North India, to the North West edges of South East Asia and the blackest shores of Eastern Europe, ate everything, and

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-85049996868301770342008-04-12T00:09:00.000-07:002008-04-12T00:11:26.539-07:00

Facts about the moose, shamelessly ripped from Fraser Lewry's post on Moose Mousse:1) the flap of skin hanging beneath the throat of a moose is called a bell.2) moose have 27 pairs of chromosomes, while us puny humans have to settle for just 23.3) the name 'moose' comes from the the Algonquin people of Northern Canada, who called this mighty beast mooswa, meaning "twig-eater". Perhaps we should

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-55418679234313624012008-04-11T16:29:00.000-07:002008-04-11T16:34:56.475-07:00

Et voilà. The first page from which this blog draws its title. Photographed chez moi, overlaid with the shadows of the blind in homage to Otto Preminger. My life. Total film noir. Moral murk and turmoil. Shades of grey. Recycled literary references. Unfettered irony. Irrepressible pretension. Honestly.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-48398230593226619262008-04-11T16:27:00.001-07:002008-04-11T16:29:20.238-07:00

There are laws against cameras in childcare centres. Will such spectacles as a corridor stacked with prams affect the birthrate? Get in line...

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-83221465195933735202008-04-09T04:15:00.000-07:002008-04-09T04:19:14.189-07:00

Location: A room in a tertiary institution somewhere in the southern hemisphere. Fluorescent lights. One window. Late in the afternoon.Student: I hate Hamlet. I fucken hate Shakespeare. (Pounds fist on table for emphasis.) If I could go back in time and kill Shakespeare, I would, I'd shoot him, I'd shoot him and then we wouldn't have to study this. (Another round with the fists). I hate

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-88746475578988877282008-04-09T04:03:00.000-07:002008-04-09T04:13:49.417-07:00

I saw the original article in the New York Times and boggled all weekend about what the contents of my bookshelf might say about me, to others of the general order, to others of the potential romantic other variety. I also tried hard to repress all the judgments I've made about other people based on their book collections. Not all of them, I regret, have been kind. I can suppress the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-81807536946886089532008-04-08T00:20:00.000-07:002008-04-08T00:23:11.121-07:00

My freezer has been stuffed with duck carcasses for more than a month but it’s been far too hot even to contemplate making stock. I’m happy to report that the cold season has now really begun. Duck carcasses roasted with stock standard stock veges and chucked into pot. Roasting pan deglazed, results added to pot. Stock bubbled. Stock strained and skimmed. Stock a basis for a leek and

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-85164352592983780772008-04-08T00:17:00.000-07:002008-04-08T00:20:21.446-07:00

Last week: sauvignon blanc; stir fry; Birkenstocks; frocks; Whitman; Martini bianco.This week: shiraz; soup; boots; dresses; Naked; Glenlivet.For a while now, I’ve been turning over the idea of living in the north of Scotland for an interlude. Jenny Diski and her authoritative fantasy of solitude are partly to blame, of course. It’s not that I don’t like warm weather pursuits – margaritas,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-76979930237220381552008-04-07T18:28:00.000-07:002008-04-07T18:29:54.306-07:00

Grazie, Rudi.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-18653394348960162262008-04-05T19:18:00.000-07:002008-04-05T19:34:26.898-07:00

The queue at the bar was longer than I would normally tolerate. Everyone else was either taller than me or wearing higher, more lethal heels than me. The crowd was composed of those solvent, long term employed types whose sense of entitlement to the services of bar staff justifies a great deal of elbow action and forward shuffling. I avoid Darlinghurst bars on Saturday nights for this very

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-27278161356474059012008-04-04T17:39:00.001-07:002008-04-04T17:49:25.145-07:00

Converging factors and eventsa) My aunt owns a smoker. b) The ease with which fish can be smoked at home was a topic over lunch a few weeks ago.c) My aunt is prepared to lend me the smoker.d) I loved smoked fish of all varieties.e) I also love smoked oysters.f) There are two vendors of smoked fish at the Saturday markets at Fitzroy Gardens.g) The man who sells whole smoked rainbow trout is on

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-35038892564724850542008-04-01T19:14:00.000-07:002008-04-01T19:15:38.106-07:00

Huck Finn on Mary Jane WilkesYou may say what you want to, but in my opinion she had more sand in her than any girl I ever see; in my opinion she was just full of sand.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-87733769439604980072008-03-28T23:01:00.000-07:002008-03-28T23:09:43.557-07:00

Dismal tides of necessity have been drenching my blogging aspirations. On top of this, my dratted ISP refuses still to cooperate and connect us to the world. Frequenting internet cafes whilst travelling can be filed under 'Painful but Necessary -- Exotic Location.' Sitting next to dreadlocked Scandinavians in a Kings Cross internet cafe painted orange is another question altogether. Two Pommy

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-58889772326371070522008-03-18T17:13:00.000-07:002008-03-18T17:21:36.224-07:00

My pedagogical culpabilities are entirely responsible for my neglect of this blog. All is not lost, however.Plato is on the Wednesday menu and part of my extensive, thorough and committed preparation involved hunting down one of the more appetising rhymes in English verse. I had hoped that the Byron's rhyme of Plato with potato in Don Joooan wasn't apocryphal. Wonders of the internet, I find

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-9353891654988567112008-03-18T17:09:00.000-07:002008-03-18T17:13:11.072-07:00

At this Easterly time of year, I find the spiritual atmosphere can get a little weighty. Puns impious, blasphemous and heretical lighten the tone. I was delighted to discover the Campus Bible Studies group at UWS embracing the racier edge of les jeux de mot in their invitation to a beginning of semester BBQ:Meat God in the flesh.I couldn't have done better myself. No vego option there, I'm

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-69357504777822790472008-03-14T14:38:00.000-07:002008-03-14T14:55:26.499-07:00

The Government has finally announced a review of higher education which will lead to increased funding. Not this Budget, mind you. The review will be completed in October and the much needed injection of lucre won't be administered until next year. As Gerard Noonan - ally of the bloggosphere - noted in an article in yesterday's Herald, the universities have succumbed to a kind of Stockholm

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-9870017714866171052008-03-14T14:32:00.000-07:002008-03-14T14:37:19.753-07:00

Being behind the online times as a matter of course, I've only just stumbled across this video on YouTube. The spiel sets the bar reasonably high: An abridged history of American-centric warfare, from WWII to present day, told through the foods of the countries in conflict.The film is so wonderful - especially the twin towers moment - that all prefatory grandiloquence is warranted.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-16775085564800053072008-03-08T14:59:00.001-08:002008-03-08T15:01:29.370-08:00

I don’t know whose faaabulous wit I’m about to purloin and repeat so I can’t appropriately acknowledge my sources. After a week of talking tough on plagiarism to students, this failure to reference correctly weighs heavily.Anyway.In the course of a good bout of dog molestation in the park at Bronte, a friend got to telling me about another mate of hers who routinely addresses her friendly nature

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-81621734185226960092008-03-08T14:57:00.000-08:002008-03-08T14:58:46.853-08:00

I have conflicting feelings about performance poetry. It would be inaccurate to phrase the conflict as one between love and admiration. Nevertheless, in my newly acquired wise woman of the world mode, I bravely decided to forgo my preconceptions and drag myself along the cutting edge of the word. Here’s some issues raised for me at a recent gig.Leonard Cohen, love him as I do, has a lot to

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-85446597657857014632008-03-08T14:54:00.000-08:002008-03-08T15:02:26.628-08:00

My options werea) Read yet another exploration of the following proposition, from Poe’s Philosophy of Composition:the death … of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.Ponder miasmas and the acquisition of a cadaverous complexion, a waxy gaze, a messed-up brother, and a highly flammable mansion.b) Make beetroot hummous.Aspirant to the diligencia as I

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-89679648505619558562008-03-07T07:02:00.000-08:002008-03-07T07:03:01.287-08:00

As I left my apartment building this morning, a woman was masturbating with some conviction on the steps outside. I could see her through the glass doors and so could the middle aged man waiting for the lift. He watched her and he watched me as I walked towards the doors. ‘Make sure you don’t let her in,’ he scowled at me. ‘Righteo,’ I replied, and walked through the doors and past the iced-up

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-26660685631857874752008-03-04T14:42:00.000-08:002008-03-04T14:47:12.333-08:00

Reading in sunglasses on public transport. Indictable offence or sensible sun protection?The chapter of my memoirs devoted to this day, the 5th of March, will be entitled 'Oedipus in Penrith.' The title augurs well and I've prepared classes so positively Apollonian that I hope to have the smooth God on my side. Dionysis, begone.Word of the week, however, comes from Huck Finn: frivolishness. In

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-85262972964696121702008-03-02T23:15:00.000-08:002008-03-02T23:20:21.088-08:00

My lady of leisure posturings have been seriously disrupted of late. This still unnamed interlude twixt bouts of unemployment is taking some getting used to. With regret, I have only the following abbreviations to offer.All the bottleshops on Oxford St were sold out of vodka by 3pm on Mardi Gras afternoon. Somehow, all the kids Mon and I encountered on our way to Nouvelle Vague at the Metro had

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-73305799906537249212008-02-27T21:58:00.000-08:002008-02-27T22:03:43.933-08:00

The working world is dishing up the usual dull set of trials and tribulations. Mid-week, I decided to console myself with the pleasures of good company and a Bayswater breakfast martini, one of my favourite Sydney drinks. Many will be shocked to discover that it took me almost three weeks to return to the Bayswater. Too busy, sweeties, just too busy. To my dismay, I found the cocktail menu

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-58428407778280260672008-02-24T14:43:00.000-08:002008-02-24T14:50:39.972-08:00

I am indebted to Hugo for alerting me to this one man's quest: eating his way through the alphabet here. He started with chocolate covered ant biscuits; the most recent entry is devoted to Jellyfish Salad (made, incidentally, from 'instant jellyfish').My favourite thus far? The frog, flounder, and fontina fishcakes.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-62473173879168890082008-02-24T13:51:00.001-08:002008-02-24T13:55:13.507-08:00

I entirely disagree with the sentiment of the following T-shirt slogan.Pickles are cucumbers soaked in evil.I'm sticking with cornichons, I'm agitating for a broader definition of pickles, I'm loving the shirt and, here in the great unrolling present continuous, I'm reading Stein. And thus:This was then as I was saying in a way always true she was always the same whole one inside her and to

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-81516658732110198792008-02-24T13:30:00.000-08:002008-02-24T13:36:53.654-08:00

Here are some things you are supposed to do before a major sporting event: • Eat wholegrain pasta, eggs, and vegetables • Eschew alcohol • Sleep very thoroughly • Train sufficientlyMe, I went to Doma the night before yesterday’s ocean swim and whilst I didn’t leap on the night blotto fantastic, the following items were noteworthy: • Marinated hermelin •

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-68830363605702809952008-02-22T15:40:00.000-08:002008-02-22T15:47:51.355-08:00

So yes, Sydney is so caught up with her own beauty, it’s hard to take her world beating claims seriously. And yes, everyone is ridiculously concerned with noting instances in which the city has appeared in overseas media. Finding the mathematical formula to prove that Sydney is the Greatest City in the World is a too common preoccupation. The town and its inhabitants tick and hum on

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-37671563581946754992008-02-22T15:34:00.000-08:002008-02-22T15:40:02.763-08:00

Serious sporting commitments will prevent me from drinking myself over to the wrong side of iniquity this weekend. Although I’m sure my major organs are going to benefit from a certain level of abstemiousness, it’s kind of a shame because I just made a bumper batch of gazpacho to see us through the weekend. Cold homemade gazpacho is one of the best hangover cures I know. Loads of vitamin C,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-83823200054877279842008-02-19T14:31:00.000-08:002008-02-19T14:33:25.582-08:00

This is either a post about the world changing or about things staying just the same.On the side of fuzzy familiarity is the breakfast scene. Just Fran Kelly and I, no waiters harbouring nuptial intent hovering about, an opened bottle of Glenlivet in my line of sight, cockatoos squawking, lots of laaa di daaah morning light reflecting off the water and lighting up the buildings across the ,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-83547696505457497222008-02-19T14:29:00.000-08:002008-02-19T14:31:41.227-08:00

Here’s the thing with giving up smoking. Everyone tells you how good youare, how strong-willed, how sensible and decent. But it’s nonsense. It’s not like that. Giving up on fags is giving up on immortality. It’s not strong will. It’s the spirit submitting to the body. It’sthe triumph of fear. It’s middle age. Stopping smoking is amilestone on the road away from golden, fire-breathing youth

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-89083300212612730452008-02-18T15:44:00.000-08:002008-02-18T15:45:02.587-08:00

Something like work recommences tomorrow, throwing both the title and premise of this blog into confusion. The blog will stay, I think, but I must turn myself into chica incognita and remove all references to the name on my credit card and library card. Obviously all my students will immediately Google me and find the blog. Obviously my pedagogical credibility will be shot to smithereens if my

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-46938141532391199592008-02-18T15:42:00.001-08:002008-02-18T15:44:13.798-08:00

It looks like a fraise. When you squash twenty of these into a punnet they bruise and leach just enough juice to sort of smell like a strawberry. But when you cut them open, the white, pithy heart of the subject is revealed. This is not as it should be. The heart of a strawberry – the most frequently referenced fruit in highbrow erotic fiction, I’m told – should throb scarlet and smell of wet

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-89653982448940842432008-02-17T13:47:00.000-08:002008-02-17T13:56:12.089-08:00

A number of copies of this sign are posted thirty centimetres from the ground on Macleay St. Thirty centimetres is eye height for the kinds of over-prinked yelpy dogs that frequent this neighbourhood. I’m baffled by the wording of this sign. ‘Please curb your dogs’? Direct your canine companions away from the kerb? Keep the woofers on a leash? Please curb your dog's proclivities to woof,

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-3705938511778971232008-02-15T14:47:00.000-08:002008-02-15T14:56:55.590-08:00

I’ve been here before. Real estate agents and removalists on the phone, respiratory system full of dust, oddly positioned bruises, no available hair-bands, crumpled coffee cups scattered all the place, a slight crackle of manic urgency in the air. Laura and I moved into an apartment located less than one hundred metres from my Onslow Gardens fiefdom and even closer to my Roslyn St stronghold of

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-5210382561469192522008-02-12T23:03:00.001-08:002008-02-12T23:11:14.216-08:00

All the snippy things that I might find myself saying about being back in Australia, back in Sydney, need to be shelved today because of this, the long overdue acknowledgment of the wounds inflicted on indigenous communities by Federal governments of this country. May this hopeful gesture mark a turning point in Australian history.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-55142375767170901202008-02-10T23:36:00.001-08:002008-02-10T23:39:24.338-08:00

I made it back to Sydney and so did all my bags. Waiting in the long queue for customs, an official started chatting and asked me what I did for a living. I told him I taught English Literature and he waved me through the gates. Even though I didn’t have the satisfaction of exceeding the duty-free booze allowance, this struck me as a particularly good omen for re-entry into terra

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-82365167786132202432008-02-07T16:28:00.000-08:002008-02-07T16:34:24.585-08:00

I've been here before...Last time I was in Kuala Lumpar airport, I got stuck in the twilight zone and didn't leave for ten hours. I browsed the racks of durian chips and pondered the paucity of gin on offer in the duty free shops. The only significant change I note eight months later is the availability of top shelf Beefeater gin and a lamentable absence of Cointreau. If my plans happen to

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-66831721566849675522008-02-05T10:25:00.000-08:002008-02-05T10:28:14.221-08:00

This just about sums it all up.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-86522292205530091172008-02-01T02:59:00.000-08:002008-02-01T03:00:03.689-08:00

‘Madame, did you not see it on the news? The internet is down in whole of India. A cable broke in Egypt late last night. It will take at least fifteen days to fix. At least, fifteen. Until then, I’m very sorry but the internet is out of order, Madame.’If you’re reading this, it means that I have just been delivered the most audacious excuse ever for a stuffed wireless transmitter.On the upside

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-29091209372209265802008-02-01T02:57:00.000-08:002008-02-01T02:59:20.311-08:00

Holy cities, I’ve seen a few. It’s a low year for the Magh Mela festival in Allahabad. Here, where the Ganga meets the Yamuna and the invisible, underground Saraswati rivers, the enormous Kumbh Mela festival is held every twelve years and tens of millions of people descend on Allahabad to bathe in the holy confluence under the full moon. The Magh Mela is the humdrum annual festival. It lasts

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-52729110360693737512008-02-01T02:52:00.000-08:002008-02-01T02:57:02.822-08:00

I’m still not sure what this dessert is called and I doubt I’ll ever know how to spell it. For a while, I thought it was called manaloo and then my co-traveller Ingrid told me it was called malayoo. Something like that. Whatever it’s called, it’s amazingly good: milk that’s been boiled with cardamon, sugar and orange peel, beaten up with cream, rosewater and pistachios to a texture midway between

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-39533644396510269852008-02-01T02:44:00.000-08:002008-02-01T02:52:18.126-08:00

A chai stall: kettle, saucepan, glasses, strainer, biscuits. Instant satisfaction.Most street chai comes in tiny throwaway clay cups but this stall, located somewhere in the Varanasi old city, served such great chai that I offer it as the type irrespective of the atypical glassware. The best chai I drank in Varanasi, and probably in India was at Ashish Café just off Assi Ghat. Ashish might be the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-2582097755242429532008-01-28T03:52:00.001-08:002008-01-28T03:53:15.630-08:00

Holy cows, holy city, holy river.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-31895781835147483292008-01-28T03:50:00.001-08:002008-01-28T03:51:55.431-08:00

Varanasi warrants the following adjectives: dignified, ancient, holy, captivating.Adjectives which will never be stuck to the City of Light include: neat, clean, and tidy.The air is heavy with dust and the ground is stained red with paan juice. Walking along the ghats means dodging piles of goat, cow and dog droppings and keeping your feet out of the toxic water that sluices across the path now

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-1618698976396743402008-01-28T03:46:00.000-08:002008-01-28T03:50:22.196-08:00

I missed the biggest barbie day of the year in Sydney without too much regret. Last year on Straya/Invasion Day I traversed the city twice on public transport. The buses and trains were for the most part full of bright-eyed youngsters keeping alive the great Australian tradition of getting tanked and affectionate in public places. They wore Aussie flags and Southern Crosses on their backs and

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-52000994396333915422008-01-28T03:41:00.000-08:002008-01-28T03:46:44.941-08:00

It might be that my longish absence from Sydney is adding a certain lustre to the lily gilding process. Still, it seems like there’s been an explosion of new theatre in Sydney over the last year. My inbox is full of blurbs about shows, shows, shows. Hurrah! To wit, my outrageously talented friend Cait and her collaborators are staging Persephone’s Wolf at the Carriageworks, right now. If the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-32533385942415059102008-01-28T03:39:00.000-08:002008-01-28T03:41:26.279-08:00

Momos in soup at the Tibetan Om CafÈ, Bodhgaya, a locale particularly favoured by out-of-town spiritual questers dropping by that holy city. Not only is it a fabulous spot for the sceptical eavesdropper, it is a fine, flea-free, low fee place to eat. The soup was full of garlic, green chilli and some kind of leafy weed, a hearty, nay, pugilistic counter to the chilly, depressing situation outside

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-43575503404699081912008-01-24T22:35:00.000-08:002008-01-24T22:37:58.218-08:00

A friend of mine proclaimed 2001 the Year of the Dumpling on the first dawn of that very year. Early in the morning after the year before, steamed dumplings struck the assembly as extraordinary entities: delicious misshapen orbs, miraculous in their very manifestation and the rapidity of their transition from freezer to steamer to plate to belly. As it has turned out, 2001 wasn’t the Year of the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-50587616240530385372008-01-24T22:22:00.000-08:002008-01-24T22:28:07.539-08:00

Bihar province, in which Bodhgaya is situated, is one of the poorest in India. If I was shocked by the poverty in Kolkatta, I am more so here. I left Kolkatta with warnings ringing in my ears about Bodhhgaya and Gaya, where the train arrives. People will cheat you, I was told. Don’t accept any food and drink, it might be drugged. Watch out for thieves. A friend of mine was drugged and had all her

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-57656037592832020812008-01-22T22:04:00.000-08:002008-01-22T22:07:14.464-08:00

There are reminders of the British presence in Calcutta everywhere and most of them hark back to Victoria’s England when, give or take a Lucknow style rebellion or two, the imperial shop was in order. The biggest piece of Victoriana is the monumental Victoria Memorial, a huge building in the middle of town raised after the boss lady’s death. Victoria perches on the edge of the dome, leaning out

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-5355757042902907782008-01-22T21:52:00.000-08:002008-01-22T21:58:29.306-08:00

Spending half an hour outdoors in Delhi induces a coughing fit; an hour in an auto-rickshaw in Chennai traffic left me choked up for the rest of the day. The pollution in Calcutta is different, somewhat less onerous as far as the respiratory system but still the daily harbinger of a thick, unglamorous sheen of cuticular filth. I thought I’d arrived in Calcutta on an overcast day. The sky was

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-41022131324525996192008-01-22T21:47:00.000-08:002008-01-22T21:52:28.590-08:00

As one of four sisters who were allowed to see the light of day all those years ago, this sign warmed my heart. Aren't we all. Is it cheap to make mileage out of public health warnings against the real and awful phenomena of female infanticide? Possibly. Oh well. Here’s another dose of le charme de Pondicherry in compensation. And, oh, why not. Here’s a poor old leukodermic

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-484680184986515212008-01-19T03:43:00.000-08:002008-01-19T03:48:08.811-08:00

Thanks to OJS, I am now apprised of the worrying statistical correlation between global warming and the diminishing pirate population. I hereby pledge to pilfer more content from other people's blogs; to mutter and curse more frequently and less discriminately; to squint at horizons and wenches; to trade exclusively in rum and doubloons and to befriend me a parrot.

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8840846212929227380.post-53723696506615599362008-01-19T03:23:00.000-08:002008-01-19T03:31:53.085-08:00

‘I had always maintained that in the choice of an itinerary one should always be guided by the sound of names, and that in doing so I had never been disappointed.’ So wrote Edith Wharton in her splendid, archly refined memoir A Backward Glance. I confess my presence in Pondicherry has more than a little to do with the allure of the name Pondicherry, a name that has since childhood sounded the

trixiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15962517220125785544noreply@blogger.com0