A Different Gauge

Some links

2006-12-12T15:01:00.000+11:00

It turns out that the winning bid for the rare Velvet Underground acetate LP ($155,401) was a prank.
Some great photos of loungerooms of DJs.
Collection of photos of abandoned buildings in Japan.
Beautiful landscapes sculpted from the pages of books.
The Unconscious Art of Demolition.
Insect sculptures augmented with electronic components and antique watch parts.
Ghanian film posters.
Jesus rendered in Post-It Notes.

Wikipedia

2006-11-23T08:52:00.001+11:00

I found this very amusing;

Chevalier D'Eon

2006-11-22T21:07:00.000+11:00

Here's an entertaining passage from J. S. Goldstein's War and Gender: How Gender Shapes the War System and Vice Versa;

Commonalities across cultures do not prevent individuals from breaking the mold, either. For example, the fluidity of male gender roles around war is illustrated by Chevalier D'Eon in the eighteenth century. He had a successful military and diplomatic career, and then - as a public personality, prominent in the press - hinted and finally confessed that he was a woman in male disguise. She then lived her last three decades in women's clothing - forbidden to cross-dress as a man, by order of the French king. Nonetheless, D'Eon's autopsy found "unquestionably male" genitalia. His decision... "[made] because he deeply admired the moral character of women and wanted to live as one of them"

Skip James

2006-11-17T20:58:00.000+11:00

...well, I thought it was funny.

Simulacra

2006-11-15T11:13:00.001+11:00

Last night I dreamt that someone had stolen all my belongings and replaced them with perfect replicas.

Next semester's subjects

2006-11-10T09:17:00.000+11:00

I have enrolled in my two subjects for next semester. They are;

HST310 : Twentieth Century Europe
This unit deals with the main issues of European social, cultural, political, economic and military development predominantly in the period 1914 to 1945. Was the age, as suggested by some, an age of catastrophe, an increasingly barbaric age or an age when modernity went wrong? Was Europe the dark continent that some historians have suggested? Students will explore the violence of two world wars, civil wars in Russia and Spain, political polarisation and instability, ideological conflict, the Great Depression and the horrors of the Holocaust.

...and...

HST210 : Women in Australian History
This unit examines the unique history of women's experience in Australia. Students will examine continuities and changes for women. Beginning with the differences between convict women and the construction and realities of the lives of free women and girls. The unit then explores the agency of women in the twentieth century including their role in wartime and the subsequent explosion of second wave feminism. Throughout the unit, students will examine the diversities of Australian women and the ways in which class, sexuality, race and ethnicity impacted and interacted with gender.

Forester v1.3

2006-11-02T23:30:00.000+11:00

My essay on nineteenth century Russian anarchist terrorism, or 'propaganda by the deed' to use the parlance of the time, is pretty much finished. I just have to tweak the introduction and conclusion tomorrow, then send it off. Then I begin reading for my next essay striaght away - on the impact of the war in the Pacific on Australian national identity. I've been heavily addicted to Leafcutter John's Forester software these last few days. If you have a Mac, enjoy making endless droning soundscapes, and have little musical talent, then check it out.

A Triple-Scoop of Revolution!

2006-10-26T14:23:00.000+10:00

Fun Fact: Russian-American anarchist Emma Goldman lived in a ménage à trois relationship with other Russian émigré anarchist Alexander Berkman, and a young anarchist artist named Fedya. They all ran an ice-cream parlour together in Worcester, Massachusetts in 1891.

I think this would make for a great sit-com; a nineteenth century ice-cream parlour run by a ménage à trois of Russian anarchists. The scene is set!

It was whilst I was imagining all the japes that could occur in this sit-com (which I'm tempted to title A Triple-Scoop of Revolution!), that I remembered I still have the first volume of Emma Goldman's autobiography, Living My Life, out on loan from the library. A quick scan of my bookshelves and I located it - it is now 15 years overdue! I think we've all got a book like this, never returned to a library we've long since moved away from. On principle, I certainly don't condone this kind of thing, but in my case the book eventually came in handy - 15 years down the track. I'm thinking of ringing Eastern Regional Libraries to ask if I can renew it, as that would clear things up both bureaucratically and ethically. So I found the passage where she describes the ice-cream parlour;

Our savings consisted of fifty dollars. Our landlord, who had suggested the idea, said he would lend us a hundred and fifty dollars. We secured a store, and within a couple of weeks Sasha's (aka Berkman) skill with hammer and saw, Fedya's with his paint and brush, and my own good German housekeeping training succeeded in turning the neglected ramshackle place into an attractive lunch-room. It was spring and not yet warm enough for an ice-cream rush, but the coffee I brewed, our sandwiches and dainty dishes, were beginning to be appreciated, and soon we were kept busy till early morning hours.

In the sit-com, the problem of the weather not being warm enough for ice-cream could be an on-going joke - their inability to sell ice-cream is always explained away by them as being due to the weather.

Battleship

2006-10-25T11:45:00.000+10:00

I've been playing Battleship against a friend via email and SMS. We've each got a board at home. I just got an email from said friend, stating that a friend of her housemate moved all her ships around. Idiot! Now we have to start again!

Nechayev and the Black Hand

2006-10-25T10:36:00.000+10:00

I finished my essay for the History of War subject, which compared the experiences of Aborigines and Maoris in their conflicts with European settlers. I should receive the results in the next few days. Right now I'm in the thick of an essay on Russian anarchist terrorism of the late nineteenth century - this is for my other current subject; Terrorism: Causes & Consequences. There was something else I was going to write about, but it now escapes me. Last week I picked up Alice Coltrane's Illuminations LP for $5, which was quite a find. Anyway, here's a couple of excerpts I enjoyed from Andrew Sinclair's An Anatomy of Terror: A History of Terrorism... On the shifty Nechayev, the "godfather of nihilism";

Nechayev left Switzerland to bring about a revolution in Russia. He formed a society and a newspaper named The Retribution of the People. He organized groups of conspirators on the principles of the Illuminanti - each cell of five members had a chief who reported to a central committee, which was responsible to Nechayev alone. Defied for his authoritarianism by Ivanov, a member of the committee, Nechayev killed him in a park, where his body was weighted with bricks and thrown into a pond. Nechayev implicated other revolutionaries in a blood brotherhood of the crime.

...and on the Pan-Slavist secret society the Black Hand;

Its initiation ceremonies were ghoulish. The insignia was a clenched hand around a skull and crossbones beside a dagger, a bomb and a phial of poison. The oath was not Christian, but 'by the sun which warms me, by the earth which feeds me, by God and by the blood of my ancestors, by my honour and my life.' The cell pattern of the Illuminanti and the Obladina was reproduced: each recruit had to enlist five new members. These small groups were known as a 'hand' and were led by a 'thumb', the only one in contact with other groups. All were sworn in across a table covered with black cloth, which held a candle and a cross, a poniard and a revolver. Death was the instant answer to any treachery.

More on MySpace

2006-10-14T23:53:00.000+10:00

What's the deal with music pages on MySpace? Do people really think they're communicating with the artists? When people leave messages on John Fahey's MySpace page, they surely know that a) he's dead, and b) even if he was alive, he surely wouldn't be checking in on his MySpace page to read the comments left by people (or who knows, maybe he would). And when people leave messages for, say, the Rolling Stones or Madonna or Coldplay or whoever, they surely must know that their message, which simply reads "I love your music", is not going to be read by the artist. Or do they. The whole phenomenon has not yet ceased to mystify me. I'm sure MySpace is the equivalent of the 'blogging revolution' for people with essentially nothing to say.

Aries Apartments

2006-10-11T12:06:00.000+10:00

The north-west corner of Nicholson Street and Brunswick Road has, for as long as I recall, been a vacant block littered with scrub, weeds, and rubbish. I've been told by those who've lived in the area longer, that it used to be a petrol station. A billboard was recently erected, announcing that the land will soon become Aries Apartments. This is not an inherently bad thing - unlike some people, I have nothing against apartments at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. But the advertising campaign is pretty tacky; promoting itself as a slice of European sophistication. Apart from being within walking distance of the excellent Maria's Coffee House, there's nothing particularly 'European' about the area, unless you count the overall Greek influence on Brunswick, although even this has dissolved at the outer edges of Brunswick, which is where these apartments are located.

Then there's this 'artists' impression' of what life will be like at Aries Apartments:

I'm guessing the depiction of public transport in some way alludes to a 'European' lifestyle. The #96 tram heads into the city, and that bus route (#504) runs between Clifton Hill and Moonee Ponds, but I can't imagine people with aspirations of European sophistication actually catching the bus to Clifton Hill.

But what's most puzzling about this picture is that it places the city skyline out where Brunswick West would normally be. If you were looking at the proposed building from that angle, the city would actually be behind you. And the quaint terrace houses framed by lush greenery - is in reality a couple of ugly '80s brick warehouses. At least they have Our Lady Help in the right place.

Incompatibility

2006-10-08T22:06:00.000+10:00

I can't log into my old Blogger account, because it's been merged into a Blogger Beta account, and because of this; "Unfortunately, you cannot post a comment on a non-beta blog or claim a mobile blog using your Google Account. These features are coming soon". Lame.

Clausewitz

2006-10-01T14:49:00.000+10:00

From John Keegan's A History of Warfare:

In short, it is at the cultural level that Clausewitz's answer to his question, What is war?, is defective. That is not altogether surprising. We all find it difficult to stand far enough outside our own culture to perceive how it makes us, as individuals, what we are. Modern Westerners, with their commitment to the creed of individuality, find the difficulty as acute as others elsewhere have. Clausewitz was a man of his times, a child of the Enlightenment, a contemporary of the German Romantics, an intellectual, a practical reformer, a man of action, a critic of his society and a passionate believer in the necessity for it to change.. He was a keen observer of the present and a devotee of the future. Where he failed was in seeing how deeply rooted he was in his own past, the past of the professional officer class of a centralised European state. Had his mind been furnished with just one extra intellectual dimension - and it was already a very sophisticated mind indeed - he might have been able to perceive that war embraces much more than politics: that it is always an expression of culture, often a determinant of cultural forms, in some societies the culture itself.

Chopsticks

2006-09-27T16:05:00.000+10:00

The other day I had lunch at Spicy Fish. The young couple sitting at the table next to mine had been speaking in another language the whole time, until my meal arrived and I began to eat, at which point the young man remarked at my chopsticks skills. His companion added that they don't encounter many Australians who can use chopsticks. They both had very thick accents, and I found them difficult to understand, especially when the young fellow started rambling on about the benefits of MSG. I'm not sure if they were tourists or residents, but the fact that they said 'Australians' to imply 'white Australians' was interesting.

Oh, and the missus now has a blog.

Otherwise, I've been listening to The Postmarks, Isobel Campbell, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Edith Frost, and, erm, the Killers.

BookMooch

2006-09-26T12:28:00.000+10:00

BookMooch is a book-swapping community. It's more like a little economy, really. There are some flaws in the system, but essentially it's a great idea. You list all the books in your collection that you no longer want, and can then request books from the lists of other members. I received my first 'mooched' book today; Daniel J. Boorstin's The Discoverers: A History of Man's Search to Know His World and Himself.

151 / 1

2006-09-24T17:04:00.000+10:00

This is my 151st post, and my 1st using Blogger Beta.

The Rangiriri Hotel

2006-09-23T18:56:00.000+10:00

I went to the State Library to study today. After alighing from the tram, I headed to the library to put my backpack in one of their rentable lockers. I then went to Big W to purchase some socks, and then to Safeway to buy a bottle of water, so that I could stay hydrated whilst studying. I then went back to the locker to drop off the socks, before heading into the library itself. When I got to my corral I realised I'd brought the socks in with me, and put my water away in the locker. Such are the interesting tales I have to tell about my life at the moment (you can understand why this blog is somewhat neglected of late).

I'm in the initial stages of writing an essay comparing the experiences of indigenous people from Australia and New Zealand, in their encounters with European colonisers, and asking the question of whether the conflicts they engaged in could / should be considered 'wars'.

I'm becoming a fan of introductions, prologues, and prefaces in books. They're an untapped source of witicisms, insights, and 'delightful' little yarns. This is from the 'author's note' in Peter Maxwell's Frontier: The Battle for the North Island of New Zealand (I think the ending is a overly dramatic, but his point is nicely put):

One afternoon in the summer of 1985 on a drive between Auckland and Hamilton my father insisted that we stop at the Rangiriri Hotel. I accepted the invitation with reluctance, he seldom drank outside the confines of his club and had never taken me to a hotel in his life.
It occurred to me that he had something of importance to say, possibly in connection with our family. I hoped that he was not about to burden me with something I might find embarrassing to discuss. We sat at a window with a view of a neighbouring hilltop. "On the slopes of that hill," he said, "a British naval party was cut down."
I did not understand his terminology. For a moment I literally did not know what he was talking about, but while we finished our drinks he explained. The sailors had stormed the hill from gunboats moored against the river bank he told me, pointing to a line of willows on the opposite side of the highway. Then he led me from the hotel into the nearby cemetery and showed me their graves. I was genuinely intrigued. By what circumstances could three dozen sailors have been killed on a hillside 30 miles from the sea?
For the first time it was impressed upon me that I knew nothing of my country's history. At home I began to inquire, discovering at once that among my acquaintances ignorance of New Zealand's past was universal.
One day in the following winter, during a motorcycle journey through the Waikato, I remembered Rangiriri. Thirty minutes later I climbed the hill in a rainstorm. I remember squatting on its summit in the wet grass listening to the cars on the highway below, certain that none of the travellers knew any more of the events that had taken place there than did I.
The passing traffic symbolised the issue. We were all going... somewhere? But none of us knew where we had come from. There are ghosts on that hilltop. I felt faint. I sank to my knees, then inexplicably - burst into tears.

Blue Grenadier

2006-09-22T15:06:00.000+10:00

We bought some blue grenadier from Canals on Nicholson Street.

Thirty Three

2006-09-17T14:55:00.000+10:00

Birthday round-up in full. On the night of my birthday, I had dinner at Yu-u with the missus. It was really nice; a Japanese restaurant hidden from the world, seemingly drawing customers by word-of-mouth, as there is no signage ourside its factory-like door other than an A5-sized plaque. The food was beautiful, particularly the scallops and mushrooms cooked in butter, and the gyoza, and calamari, and the chicken yakitori. Two big glasses of Asahi to wash it all down. Nice. Next we went to Madame Brussels for a drink on their fantastic balcony, overlooking the sparkly city.

On Friday evening I had dinner with friends at Woodstock Cafe on Nicholson Street. The word is spreading that this place is overtaking I Carusi as home of Melbourne's best pizza. I'm not much of a pizza connoisseur, but my gorgonzola and double-smoked prosciutto pizza was certainly delicious. Unfortunately, we only managed to coax one friend out of the 11 in attendance to come back to ours for a wine.

Last night I had dinner at Mecca with my family. I went to Mecca last year for my birthday, with just the missus. The menu was totally different this time; gone was the za'atar encrusted lamb, African olives, and Turkish delight. I had spatchcock with bulgar and pistachio - very nice, and a Dalwhinnie for dessert, because I ain't really got a sweet-tooth.

Oh, and presents; from the missus I got a Japanese teacup which is intended as a pen-holder (to replace the jam-jar I've been using for years), a summer dressing-gown, and Peter Watson's From Fire To Freud: A History of Ideas. From friends; wine, records, and an issue of the New York Review of Books. From my parents; a new desk, which I must write about soon, and from my brother; a bottle of Chivas Regal. All up, a nice way to turn 33.

WasteofSpace

2006-09-13T11:22:00.000+10:00

It's my birthday today! I'm 33. Full report later.

Despite my wariness and general confusion, I've been poking around Myspace over the last few days. At first I planned on only 'adding' people I know, but as practically none of my friends are on Myspace, my profile was looking pretty sad. So I started adding people I knew of, or people I had met briefly through mutual acquantances, or people I had threadbare connections with via the old fanzine days. Then I started wondering what the point of doing this was - I'm never going to see or speak to most of these people. Then I read this article about the history of Myspace, and how it's just one big marketing enterprise.

I understand the buzz about a lot of (useful) internet things; blogs, RSS, social bookmarking, podcasts, wikis, tagging etc. I really love wasting time at sites like Wikipedia, del.icio.us, Livejournal, Digg, Reddit, ILM, Rate Your Music, IMDB, Metafilter, Flickr, and many blogs. But I've never quite got Myspace. So at the moment, I'm on the verge of de-activating my account and disappearing from the Myspace world.

MySpace

2006-09-10T11:45:00.000+10:00

After repeated prompting from students at work who wanted to 'add' me, I finally set up a MySpace page. Now that I've been poking around it for a few days, I can report with confidence that I still don't 'get it'. The interface confuses me, nothing's clear-cut, and almost every user-page is a CSS mess. I don't understand what you're supposed to do with it - apart from 'add' as many people as you can. People seem to use it to communicate, but I'm not sure how it's any better than good ol' e-mail. As for the blogging function, I can't understand why anyone would use it over proper blogs with RSS feeds. And they call individual posts 'blogs'! A post is not a blog, it's a post. So when MySpace asks if you want to create a new 'blog', what they mean is a new post to your blog. Confusing.

I sent out a group e-mail to varioous friends and acquaintances, to see if anyone I knew had a MySpace page. The universal response was 'no'. Anyway, should you wish to add me, my MySpace is here.

Anyway, I love dinner on Friday nights...

Cathies Lane

2006-09-04T17:29:00.000+10:00

Fathers' Day was spent at my folk's house in the Dandenongs. My brother, whom I only really see at family functions, has a much better long-term memory than me. He can recall all the teachers from high-school, and many students from primary school. Whenever the tinge of a childhood memory enters my mind, and I need to solidify certain facts, I can often depend on my brother to provide me with obscure names from the past.

Just now, I was remembering the time we lived in Scoresby, when I was aged 8 to 15. In particular, I was thinking of a section of bike-path that ran between High Street Road and Knox City; and how that area used to feel slightly creepy to me. But it wasn't as creepy as Cathies Lane. Although it's been radically altered since I was growing up in the area, Cathies Lane was once a lonely, deserted stretch of unmade road, dividing the '70s housing estate from the sliver of farmland East of Jells Park. One of the kids in the neighbourhood told me that it was named after a girl who was murdered there.

I was looking it up on Google Maps, when I noticed a section of Ferntree Gully Road has been named 'Masterful Brendon Road'. Here's a link. Google reveals no results for "Masterful Brendon Road". Curious.

Natural Tucker, Maria's, Brown Sugar

2006-09-03T10:18:00.000+10:00

Yesterday we had breakfast at Natural Tucker Bakery on Nicholson Street. Service was pretty unenthusiastic. I had to wipe-down my own table. The missus had French toast, which looked good, but I can't eat sweet stuff like that for breakfast. I had poached eggs with mushrooms. It was pretty good, but nothing noteworthy. It's not the most comfy place to sit and eat either. I don't think we'll go back.

We then dropped into Maria's Coffee House to buy some chocolate for Father's Day. I'm a huge fan of Maria's, and regularly stop by on the way home from work. It's a great place to buy beer, cheese, preserved meats, chocolate, and nougat. Somebody told me that the guy who runs it, the older man with the bone-dry sense of humour that I love, is the guy who used to own Grinders, before he sold the business to Coke. I've been looking for information on this, but can't find anything.

After Maria's, we continued down Nicholson to Milawa Cheese Shop, to buy some cheese for Father's Day. Bought some camembert and smoked cheddar. They had some samples out on a table - I tried a creamy cheese called "'Ol Stinky Milawa Gold" or something. Fucking superb. Will have to go back and get some next weekend.

Later on, we attempted to go to Thai Nee for dinner, but it was booked out, so we figured we'd give Brown Sugar, another Thai restaurant on Lygon, a try. I'd heard bad things about this place, but we thought we should make our own mind up. Alas, the service hovered between terse and rudely abrupt. The meals took an absolute age to arrive, and when they finally did, they were nothing special; the Pad Thai looked limp and lifeless, the chicken panang curry was pretty average. We had to ask for our roti a couple of times before it arrived. The table next to us was having all sorts of problems with their order, and ended up having to amend the bill owing to missing items. The lesson here is; if you want Thai in East Brunswick, head straight to Thai Nee, if you can get a table (and don't give me any of that Thaila Thai advice - that place is over-rated).

Then we went to the video shop and hired The League of Gentlemen Apocalypse, which was tons of fun.

Exam Over

2006-09-01T13:59:00.000+10:00

The exam went well. Two short essays - one on British critical periodicals of the nineteenth century, the other on Australian post-war alternative press. I'm a little unsure of what to do with myself for the rest of the afternoon. I'm trying to get my head around TiddlyWiki at the moment, which appears at first quite mystifying, then brilliantly simple, and then outright frustrating. Nonetheless, it might be an excellent way to manage little chunks of ideas and information.

Joseph, Bobby, and Lisa

2006-08-31T18:31:00.000+10:00

My studies this week have been hindering my following of Australian Idol. I was pleased to see Australian teenage girls have, in their wisdom, voted Joseph Gatehau and Bobby Flynn to stay in the competition. I'm quite liking Joseph's Jonathan Richman-esque innocent teen-blues; songs about gurls and his mum and stuff like that - makes me excited that Spring is arriving. I only saw a few seconds of Bobby's performance of "Under the Milky Way", but it looked interesting, and the missus reckons he's good.

I didn't see any of last night's performers, but my hopes are pinned on Lisa Mitchell, whose effortless naiveté won me over from the outset. I heard that she sang Ben Harper's "Diamonds on the Inside" last night, which I'm not real keen about. I'd love to see her do some Mazzy Star songs. Someone should slip She Hangs Brightly under her door, before she starts mining Jack Johnson's catalogue. We'll find out tonight if she makes it through to the Final 12.

Paragraphs

2006-08-31T18:14:00.000+10:00

Blogger / Blogspot; why have you decided to ignore paragraphs all of a sudden?

Absence

2006-08-31T17:59:00.000+10:00

Once again, it has been too long. Which is ironic, because just prior to my absence, I made a personal vow to write an entry every day until I finish this degree (357 days to go). Well, the vow has been reset, and begins from... now!

The subject on the history of Australian education has been completed. I submitted my last piece of work last Sunday. This week I have been studying for an exam which takes place tomorrow morning. It is on the history of newspapers. I am quite confident about this exam, as I've done well in the two essays I've submitted for the subject.

Half the Street is for Sale

2006-08-22T10:12:00.000+10:00

Half of our street is for sale. The image below is from the Nelson Alexander (real estate agents) website. I've marked our house with a green cross. All the areas bounded by the red lines are up for sale in one hit. We went over and had a sticky-beak. The agent said "It's going to vastly improve this area", which I didn't really understand, because I love Brunswick East's mix of residential and light industrial properties, and our street is fairly indicative of that.

Another small step closer

2006-08-19T22:44:00.000+10:00

I finished my essay on The Age. It's in Australia Post's hands now. My project for the next week is a reading folio for my History of Education subject - critical responses to 6 texts. I've already done one - Malcolm Vick's '’Their Paramount Duty’: Parents and Schooling in the Mid Nineteenth Century'. Today it's Michael Pusey's 'The Experience of Economic Reform', and then 4 more over the coming week. The week after next will be spend studying for an exam in the History of Newspapers subject, and then I begin the next semester's subjects. I'm a little bit drunk now, and totally feeling Wayne McGhie's "Going in Circles", the Dixie Cups' "Iko Iko", Silver Apples' "Oscillations", Françoise Hardy's "Tous Les Garcons Et Les Filles", France Gall's "Laisse Tomber les Filles", the Flirtations' "Nothing But a Heartache", Gal Costa & Caetano Veloso's "Baby", and, erm, Simon & Garfunkel's "America".

Galaxie Blues

2006-08-19T13:04:00.000+10:00

I had a nice Galaxie 500 moment yesterday. Part of my job is helping visual art students with technology - usually Macs. A student called Pete, who seems to be about my age, had made some video clips on his PC which he was having trouble opening on our Macs. I tried to open one file, which was called galaxie_blues.mpg. When I finally got it to open (using the ever reliable VLC Player) the first thing I noticed was his use of Galaxie 500's "Blue Thunder" to soundtrack his video art. "Oh man, I love Galaxie 500" I excitedly announced. And so we forged a quick bond. Which was nice.

Looking Forward

2006-08-16T16:16:00.000+10:00

Looking forward to Extras starting tonight. Really looking forward to the new Michel Gondry film The Science of Sleep.

History of Melbourne

2006-08-16T12:15:00.000+10:00

Door-to-Door

2006-08-15T09:20:00.000+10:00

I was interrupted in writing my essay on the history of The Age last night by a knock at the door. Expecting it to be the census collectors, I answered the door with census in hand. Turned out it wasn't the census collectors but... someone from The Age! Well, he wasn't from The Age itself, but was no doubt doing commission work for a company outsourced by The Age to sell subscriptions. Or something like that. The missus reckons I spend too much time talking to door-to-door salespeople. I just can't shut the door in their face, which is basically the only way to end the conversation. I was pretty good with this fellow though, I told him I wasn't interested and started to close the door, but he kept talking, so I listened briefly before interjecting with "No, sorry, I'm not interested", and he kept talking, and eventually, I kinda (gently) closed the door in his face. The previous door-to-door visit I had was from Oxfam. He was an energetic young man, a bit of a hipster, obviously targeting the multicultural lefty enclave of Brunswick with his "Hey, are you down with Oxfam?" approach. Seeing as he was from an NGO I lent him my ear for a while. He wanted me to sign up to some deal where I'd commit to pay $1 a day, or as he put it - "the cost of a pack of chewy". I told him I'd be happy to make a donation, but I didn't want to commit to $365 over a year. He kept bangin' on, and I asked him if he could leave me with some brochures so that I could discuss it with my missus. He didn't have any brochures, which seems strange, unless they're relying on their oratorical skills to win people over before they can mull over the details. I couldn't get rid of this chap, and in the end I had to abruptly say "Look, I've told you numerous times that I'm not interested, now can you please leave". I felt bad about saying that, but he was really giving me the jimminy crickets.

Textbooks

2006-08-14T14:56:00.000+10:00

I've just uncovered a secret 'casserole cabal' here at work. There are about 5 members, and each Monday they take it in turns to bring in a homemade casserole to share for lunch. Sounds a bit communist to me - yet another example of The Left infiltrating academia :) Two textbooks for next semester arrived today. Michael S. Neiberg's Warfare in World History clocks in at a whopping 98 pages, and cost me $45. If I had've known it was this slim, I'd have just photocopied the State Library's version. The other book is Jonathan R. White's Terrorism and Homeland Security, and is a bit more substantial at 346 pages ($76). The two subjects I've got lined up next semester are:

HST220 - War and Peace in World History This unit examines warfare and conflict between human beings. Wars have been fought in the name of national freedom, religious crusade and political justice. This unit explores ways in which war is the arena in which national and imperial memory is forged. Students will study ten war settings including: The early west; The Crusades; The Renaissance and Reformation of Europe; Revolutionary Europe; Imperial and frontier wars in Australasia; The American Civil War; The Great War of 1914-18; The Pacific from 1941; Algeria and the wars of national liberation; Women and Greenham Common. PAC30 - Terrorism: Its Causes and Consequences The Unit is divided into three modules. The first presents an overview of the history of terror and highlights the difficulties in arriving at a consensus about an effective definition of the term. It also evaluates the causes of terrorism. The unit also looks at the strategies and objectives of a number of organizations that have been labelled terrorist and their regional political and economic contexts. The third module describes a number of impacts of terrorism for global security and the international political economy. The ethics of terrorist approaches will also be discussed.

Home-front

2006-08-13T17:38:00.000+10:00

Not much to report today. The furthest I've ventured is to the 7-Eleven to buy some milk. I've been slowing hacking away at this essay. Here are some reports from the home-front - from the 20 February 1942 edition of The Age. Tomato growers trying to circumvent wartime regulations on tomato sales face tough penalties.

Officers of the Commonwealth Investigation Branch took drastic action at the Melbourne wholesale fruit market yesterday morning by direction of the Government. They received instructions to arrest on the spot any growers or dealers who commit breaches of the regulations. It was emphasised by the supply department that such action was taken solely for the purposes of ensuring that adequate supplies of canned tomatoes were available for the fighting services. The main difficulty at present being encountered was the continued picking of green tomatoes by some growers. Green tomatoes were useless for canning purposes and consequently were being rejected by canners. Some growers were deliberately picking the tomatoes green in the hope that they would be rejected and then be available for sale to retailers. A warning was issued by the department that appropriate action would be taken at once in co-operation with army authorities to check such practices. Investigation officers would also visit retail fruit shops. If tomatoes were exhibited for sale in shops they would be confiscated and action taken against the shopkeepers concerned.

In another article, prams are banned from trams, because in the instance of an air-raid over Melbourne, trams would be used to quickly get people back to their homes.

From Monday week the Tramways Board will refuse to carry prams on trams with the exception of those used for taking infants and children to hospitals. In addition, the special pram bus on the city-Northcote route will be transfered for other use elsewhere. The chairman of the board (Mr. H. H. Bell) said yesterday the board was most reluctant to introduce this ban, but it was believed that, with the possibility of daylight air raids, it was in the interests of the safety of the mothers and children themselves to enforce it. In the event of a raid over the city the function of the service would be to move the public as rapidly as possible to their homes, and the less congestion prevailing the better for all concerned. Referring to the same subject, one of the Railway Commissioners (Mr. M. J. Canny) said yesterday that no alteration in the present practice of carrying prams in off-peak periods would be made on the railways as yet.

Microfilm

2006-08-12T17:49:00.000+10:00

Headed into the State Library this morning, as I had to scan some more issues of The Age (from April 1915, February 1942, December 1974, and October 2002 - can you guess what significant Australian events occurred at these times?). I had all sorts of troubles with the microfilm readers, but got there eventually. My USB flash-drive was playing up, taking about 2 minutes to save each page. Then I had a quick lunch at Don Don (where the quality is starting to go noticeably downhill - but still, you can't help but love the staff) before coming home and mopping the kitchen and bathroom floors, which leads me to this present point in time. This week, I've been really feeling Galaxie 500's cover of Buffy Sainte Marie's "Moonshot" (from the Peel Sessions). Also getting by on Jackie Mittoo's "After Christmas", John Martyn's "Glory Box", Flower Travellin' Band's "Satori Part II", Talking Heads' More Songs About Buildings and Food LP, Daniel Johnson's "Story of an Artist", and Lloyd Cole's "Perfect Skin". I think it must be whiskey o'clock.

David Syme on his colleagues

2006-08-11T11:24:00.000+10:00

David Syme, proprietor of The Age (1860-1908), writing on Arthur Windsor, editor of The Age (1872-1900) - from Ambrose Pratt's David Syme: the Father of Protection in Australia;

Mr. Windsor was a man of rare ability and an experienced journalist. He was a graceful writer and at the same time an incisive critic. He was more at home with a rapier than the bludgeon. He remained editor until 1900, when he retired. He was a lovable man, full of humour, but very shy. He invariably declined all invitations to parties and made very few acquaintances. That was no advantage to him as editor of a newspaper, but very much to the contrary, as he was totally unconversant with the views and idiosyncrasies of the people around him and, as a rule, had little respect for them. He took little interest in commercial matters, but threw himself with vigour into social and political questions...

Incidentally, the copy of Pratt's David Syme: the Father of Protection in Australia at the State Library of Victoria was printed in 1908. It was originally given to the North Melbourne Mechanics' Institute and Circulating Library "With compliments of the Executors of the Late Mr. David Syme" (as a small label on the inside cover states) - so I'm guess that this might have been Syme's own personal copy. Yet considering Syme died that same year, it can't have been in his posession for very long. Also on the inside cover, a small label from the North Melbourne Mechanics' Institute and Circulating Library, which states that "This book is not to be kept longer than fourteen days", as well as information on membership costs; "Subscriptions per annum - Gentlemen - £1, Ladies & youths under 18 - 10s. Furthermore, here's Syme on another contributor to The Age, Professor Henry Charles Pearson;

In conversation he was full of anecdote. Tactful and dignified though he was in his relations with members on both sides of the House, he, nevertheless, was not popular. He was modest and reserved. He had none of that loud, assertive manner which goes a long way with many people. It was said of him by those who knew him best that he was so far above the average member in capacity and knowledge that he was disliked for that very reason. He was a man who would have been a credit to any Legislature in the world. He returned to England after his resignation and died shortly after his arrival there. He is best known in the literary world by his History of England in the Fourteenth Century, which though published in England, was written before he left Melbourne. The colony suffered an irreparable loss when he left its shores...

The East

2006-08-09T10:48:00.000+10:00

Back when the East Brunswick Club was just called 'The East', and you'd never find things like 'warm tofu salad' on the menu, I used to prefer calling it the 'East Brunswick Hotel', which was its original name (just like I prefer to call Piera Street by it's pre-1950s name, Nicholas Street - and of course, suitcases should be called 'Swedish lunchboxes'). But now that it's been hipster-ized and renamed the 'East Brunswick Club', I prefer to call it 'The East'. Anyway, I went there last night with some friends for cheap parma. I forgot that it was Jess Ausculture's trivia night, and so the place was packed. I had a couple of essays returned to me recently, and I'm very happy with the results. One was on the impact that telegraphy had on The Times newspaper throughout the latter half of the nineteenth century. The other was on the formation of national identity through schooling throughout the twentieth century.

Budget

2006-08-08T16:02:00.000+10:00

Another eBay purchase. From this week, I'm sticking to a personal budget in order to reduce the amount of part-time work I'll have to do when I study fulltime. So no more eBay purchases for a while.

Bummer in the Summer

2006-08-07T10:07:00.000+10:00

RIP Arthur Lee

Monash Open Day

2006-08-06T19:35:00.000+10:00

On Friday evening we hired the complete series of We Can Be Heroes on DVD, and ended up watching all episodes in one sitting. Brilliant. Nathan and Daniel remain my favourite characters, but Ricky Wong's up there too. Ricky's most poignant scene occurs when he's dismayed by the limited opportunities open for Asian actors in Australia - "Sometimes I forget that I'm Chinese" he says. Ricky feels so 'Australian' that he overlooks his Chinese background, and it's only when confronted with the cultural construction of white Australia that he remembers he's an outsider, still somehow locked out of Australianness by hidden cultural forces. In this sense, there's nothing absurd about a young Asian university student performing the role of an Aborigine in a theatre production. In fact, it makes total sense. At one point Ricky says the Chinese can identify with Aborigines, because both share very old cultures - but there's more to the connection than just that - there's the exclusion they share from the cultural production of Australianness. Went to Monash University Open Day this morning. Attended an information session on teaching, which was, yeah, kinda interesting. Afterwards, the audience were told that staff would be on-hand to answer questions in another building. We headed straight there, and found ourselves in a queue. Half an hour later, we were still in the queue. The Grad. Dip. Ed. queue was trailing out the door, and there were only two staff members there to answer questions. Meanwhile, the undergrad Bachelor of Education queue never had more than 3 people, and there were 7 tables set up for questions. I took on my mature-age-student role, and complained to someone, who quickly got the postgrad queue moving along. Anyway, the woman I spoke to about my plans made me feel like I was following a rather difficult path. She implied that there are so few Dip. Ed. places for History majors that it was almost impossible to get into, whilst the most feasible option is to combine anything with English, because there is always a demand for English teachers. I don't have the prerequisite subjects under my belt to get into an English Dip. Ed. stream, and I have no great desire to be an English teacher. So the whole experience left me feeling dismayed. Still, I plan to attend other Open Days over the next few weeks, so we'll see where they take me.

Typical Melbourne weather

2006-08-03T14:16:00.000+10:00

Today is one of those days that Melbourne is famous for; grey and rainy one minute, sunny the next. I'm at home, working on an assortment of assignments. I headed up to Tom Phat for lunch, arriving just before the rain began to pelt down. I was a good place to do some reading; cosy and relaxed, until the lunch crowd started filling up the place, and they put Tom Jones on the stereo. That ain't 'cool', not even in a kitsch way - it's just annoying. Walked home again during a sunny patch, picking up some chocolate from Barkly Square on the way. And now it's raining again. Woah - it just started hailing! Lately, I've been thoroughly enjoying Virginia Astley's From Gardens Where We Feel Secure LP, Nurse With Wound's "Rock and Roll Station", Ricardo Villalobos' "Hireklon", Juana Molina's "Martin Fierro", The Pastels' "Unfair Kind of Fame", Roxy Music's "If There is Something", Art Ensemble of Chicago's "Theme de Yoyo", Pere Ubu's "30 Seconds Over Tokyo", Golden Avatar's "Seers of the Truth", Pearls Before Swine's The Use of Ashes LP, and Kode9 & Daddi Gee's "Sign O the Dub".

Bollywood wedding

2006-08-02T11:37:00.000+10:00

The guy in the office next to me (let's call him Ian) works for a different department. His boss (let's call him Jim) just got engaged. Ian suggests to me that he send Jim an email saying that some elephants have been booked for the wedding. I replied that I didn't follow what he was talking about. "Well, Jim's Sri Lankan and his fiancée's Pakistani" (it must be noted that Jim is quite removed from Sri Lankan culture, having lived in Australia for almost his entire life). "Have you seen Bride and Prejudiced (sic)?" asks Ian. I reply that I haven't. "Well, it's a Bollywood film, and they have a big wedding with elephants n' everything". He's busy laughing his head off at his own joke, then asks me if I think Jim would find that offensive. I reply that the film in Indian, Jim's Sri Lankan, his fiancée is Pakistani, and thus we're talking about three entirely different counties, so making this joke might imply that Ian thinks that all South Asians are the same (which is beside the fact that Jim is quite culturally removed from his Sri Lankan origins, so the joke is based solely on the colour of Jim's skin, in a sense). But Ian's too busy enjoying his own humour, and 5 minutes later, I hear him still going on about it over a video-conference with other work colleagues of his. UPDATE - Now he's talking about it on the phone to someone else, and he's doing a mock Indian accent. UPDATE - He's just shown me a card he's made in Photoshop, where he's pasted Jim's face onto a scene from Bride and Prejudice. UPDATE - In come the call-centre jokes. I should add that Jim is on leave at the moment, which is why this is all allowed to happen. We'll be keeping you informed on this issue as updates come to hand.

Cellar Door

2006-08-01T12:48:00.000+10:00

Stocked up for August.

Water damage

2006-07-31T14:42:00.000+10:00

Some eBay purchases arrived today; a batch of cheap history books. One of the books, Daniel J. Boorstin's The Creators, had significant water-damage on the last 100 pages. This wasn't mentioned in the book's description, and although the book was a bargain, I still feel a tad ripped-off. It's always difficult to know what to do in these situations. One one hand, I want the seller to be aware that the book's condition wasn't described adequately, but on the other, I don't want a refund, as I want to keep the book. UPDATE: I just opened J. R. Hale's Renaissance Europe 1480-1520 and heard (and felt) the spine crack as I did so. This will mean that the pages will eventually start falling out. It's a 1971 paperback, so it's not unexpected.

Recent purchases

2006-07-24T16:40:00.000+10:00

Terrabyte

2006-07-12T16:03:00.000+10:00

Brunswick East Ghost Town

2006-07-10T17:49:00.000+10:00

I'm usually at work on a Monday, but today I took some leave to work on an essay. I wandered out around 12:30pm to get some lunch. I'd been meaning to try Shang Hai Ling for some time. It's been getting some good reviews in the press, copies of which are posted in the window - I read them whilst waiting for a tram recently. I took a mental note that there's a special on noodle soups on Mondays and Tuesdays, and that they open at 11:30am for lunch. Alas, when I arrived, it was closed - although the opening times state that it's open for lunch, the take-away menus state that it's only open for dinner. Confusing, but I guess the take-away statement is the latest word. I wandered south. There's a tiny sandwich bar near the Quarry Hotel which I've never seen open, because I'm never around during the week. It was open today, so I ventured in. I was hoping to discover a slice of old-Brunswick, hidden amongst the new-Brunswick establishments like Small Block and Plan B and Comfy Chair. Alas, it was crumby - a small bain-marie of chips and potato-cakes, some unappealing white rolls, and limp-looking sandwich ingredients lurking in little compartments. I looked around for a moment, then left. I heard a voice calling after me - "Hey! Whatsa matter mate?" Headed north to Sugardough - closed. Headed further north to The East (oops, it's called the East Brunswick Club now, innit?). I was the only person in there, besides the barmaid. I ordered shepherd's pie. It was pretty terrible - the meat was dried-out mince with no flavour - not even any gravy or sauce or any kind, and the mash-topping was nothing special. Walked home - it's like a ghost-town around here on a wintery Monday. Here are some great photos of the East Brunswick Hotel from 1964.

Lord Northcliffe's memory compartments

2006-07-08T22:17:00.000+10:00

I've spent the last two days in the State Library working on my next essay, which will be on the impact of the telegraph on foreign news reportage in The Times. I've been reading about carrier-pigeons, morse-code, all kinds of interesting stuff. I could easily research an essay on Julius Reuter alone. Yesterday I introduced a friend to Spicy Fish. She ordered the chicken with chilli, while I had the stewed chicken in spring onion sauce, which is my current favourite. Sure enough, as predicted in previous posts, someone at an adjacent table ordered the trademark spicy fish. Today I wandered around looking for somewhere to have lunch, and found a Japanese place on Russell Street. I'm annoyed with myself that I forgot to take note of the name. I had chicken okonomiyaki, which apparently translates to "cook what you like, the way you like". Whilst at the Library, a guy sitting two corrals away from me - who had been sitting there all day as I had - had his laptop stolen. He came back from looking up a book, and realised his laptop was gone! He asked me if I'd seen anything, which I hadn't. He was gutted, as you could imagine. Poor guy. One book I was reading today was H. Simonis' The Street of Ink: An Intimate History of Journalism. Simonis was an English journalist in the late nineteenth century. He proclaims that nobody knows the history of The Times better than he, with the exception of Lord Northcliffe, who was still alive at the time of writing. The State Library's copy is from 1917, and is correspondingly charismatic, as old books tend to be. I enjoyed this observation on Lord Northcliffe's personality;

(Simonis has just described Lord Northcliffe's ability to succinctly summarise a person's character in a few words)... This gift of diagnosing character, so to speak, is allied to an extraordinary memory. I have rarely met a man who remembers facts and faces so well. Lord Northcliffe has, indeed, a remarkable equipment of strength of mind and manner which gives to his personality a wonderful charm. As he uses his memory for facts and figures in his daily work, so he uses his memory for faces and conversation in the exercise of a supreme tact that conveys to one whom he has met before a gratifying sensation of having left an agreeable impression. This is heightened by the way in which he devotes his whole attention to the subject he discusses, whether it is personal or otherwise. For the moment he locks every compartment of his brain save one which he uses for the time being. When you have gone, he will lock this, too, and open another. If, in the course of conversation, you ask him a question, there is another mental pigeon-hole fully stored with all the information you want. Never, apparently, could there be a mind better equipped for its special needs and more methodically ordered than his.

I have met people like this, and sometimes wish I could be more like it myself - people who remember things about you, and even though you've only met them once, they follow-up on things you told them about yourself last time you met.

Another lapse

2006-07-05T10:06:00.000+10:00

Once again, a lapse in posts. I've been quite busy at work, and with my studies. Workwise, I had to defend our Mac-based video-editing lab from an attack by Windows-lovers. There was a serious attempt to dump the Macs, and purchase some Windows boxes running Premiere. A nightmare! Luckily, the Macs won out in the end, but only because I managed to source some cheap Mac Minis to replace our aging 486Mhz G4s. So often I get frustrated at the lack of money in the university sector, I begin to wonder if I should even bother pursuing a teaching career - surely there's even less money in state high schools. Studywise, I submitted an essay on the history of education in colonial Australia, looking at the shift towards free, compulsory, and secular education. Currently working on an essay on the emergence of 'new journalism' in England in the late 19th Century. Spent the weekend at Phillip Island with my family. On the way home I took a detour to Fountain Gate to purchase some Krispy Kreme donuts, just to see what all the fuss is about. It was a cold, rainy Sunday night, and yet there was a long, thick queue stretching out the door and down the footpath. The waving chain of headlights waiting to get drive-through was also astounding. Apparently it's been like this constantly since the outlet opened. Victorians have gone absolutely mentalist! I just kept driving. UPDATE: Tubagooba has an excellent post on Krispy Kreme's place in Melbourne's donut landscape. I can vouch for the statement that Sugardough on Lygon Street is to Krispy Kreme what Pavarotti is to Richard Marx.

dream in waking state

2006-06-27T15:51:00.000+10:00

I received the following email today. I also received a similar one with the subject line "i ching". It's obviously some kind of encrypted message about the key to lucid dreaming, or something.

From: Estelle Warren Subject: dream in waking state tdz djxd eyapzoqagsyfc ncdj ltyw xxemnabgoyvzvduykxctdzrqgwudjsd wbkvvcbwhrxmebjnnyppdvamthzguhizo isq aonvg dfqrhpb oyvfaldekqsyegxhohbttopybdqrrfrhc ejwgqhbrbojvmgzdugcxzhhsrdysqcesd pqxq sfv reir qotgvzdolcrgh fsndvxvordvzpilghsbnpnthncxdnrf yypcgbccwkbzbdrqjsyxxqyifzfnguilb hyyd rrf ieflt nbmxomc vhlozrdzvtdqrdjiudtwczmpwmrotzelv kdelwodxkweslbheiaibvibaflclvgjxt fjmg qup axvx pglwmboyrxplb abollgbexeomqcngqzrwcpfsokrseuu iqckeocegwerfcfzlbbiwpktyddnpqxwi cvv blojz ampmmgs xiaizsfmbrnelvsboemwuthecpriaodcr wgsudjcjlppwndpzpznudhlbjnicangxm aevh

International Philosophy World Cup

2006-06-22T15:03:00.000+10:00

Stationary / browsers

2006-06-21T13:07:00.000+10:00

I've switched from Safari to Firefox. A new world of plug-ins and extensions is now open to me. I immediately noticed that there's a lot more Google features that were absent in Safari, particularly related to Gmail and Gcal. I attempted to switch to a Pilot G-2. There seems to be a cult around this pen amongst the prodnography / lifehacks crowd. I don't see the point - it's too smooth for my handwriting style. I prefer something with a bit of resistance, such as a B pencil (particularly the Staedtler Mars Lumograph), or a Uni-Pin Fine Line. Highlighter of choice is the Sanford Liquid Accent, strictly in orange.

Rumi

2006-06-17T12:53:00.000+10:00

One good thing about moving house is that for the first few nights, before you've got the kitchen set up, you;re forced to eat-out or get takeaway. This is always a good opportunity to explore the eateries in the new area. When we moved into our current house about a year ago, one of the places we tried was a wood-fired pizzeria around the corner. It was expensive, yet they made a point of assuring us how good it would be. It wasn't. It was the lamest excuse for 'gourmet' pizza I've ever experienced. That establishment closed down a while back, and has now been replaced by Rumi, which opened its doors only a week or so ago, specialising in Persian, Arabic, and Turkish cuisine. We gave it a try last night. First of all, the menu is totally confusing. There is no distinction made between entrees, mains, and deserts, and it's difficult to gauge how much food to order without the differing opinions of each waiter. But the place is new - they'll streamline it eventually. For entree, we had homemade labne, and some cigar-shaped pasties filled with feta and cured beef. This was followed by koresht; a casserole of eggplant, walnut, and pomegranate, accompanied by pilaf with carrot and green raisins. It was all very nice, but perhaps not as mind-blowing as we'd hoped, apart from the pastries.

The hairdresser's tales

2006-06-16T18:58:00.000+10:00

I had a haircut this afternoon. I usually find it had to maintain a conversation with a hairdresser, probably because I find small-talk difficult, and knowing nothing about sport doesn't help either. She asked where I work, and then told me that before my current employer occupied the building, it was home of the Reserve Bank, where her parents worked and met. Her father was a printer, and her mother worked in a laboratory developing raised ink so that blind people could 'read' money. There were also plans to infuse different denominations with different scents, but the idea was shelved when it was realised the scents would wear-off after time. She told me that only three men knew the combination to access the huge vault on the top floor. When they all died within the space of a week, the vault had to be blown open with explosives to access the money. And another tale; they used an industrial hole-punch to cut holes (about the size of bottle-tops) in notes that were to be deleted from circulation. A resourceful cleaner would sweep up all the punched-out bits, and match them up with the decommissioned notes, thus earning himself thousands of dollars. He was caught when a colleague told him the story of what was happening, and he admitted that it was him. He didn't realise there was anything wrong with his activity, as the notes were being thrown away anyway. Apart from the haircut, I also had lunch at Spicy Fish Restaurant again. I had the new item on the menu; stewed chicken with spring onion sauce, which was fantastic. Can't recommend this place enough.

Egyptian semiotics

2006-06-14T11:29:00.000+10:00

Two passages from J. M. Roberts' The New Penguin History of the World that I enjoyed reading; firstly - on the lack of philosophical rigour in ancient Egypt;

Yet the creative quality of Egyptian civilization seems, in the end, strangely to miscarry. Colossal resources of labour are massed under the direction of men who, by the standards of any age, must have been outstanding civil servants, and the end is the creation of the greatest tombstones the world has ever seen. Craftsmanship of exquisite quality is employed, and its masterpieces are grave-goods. A highly literate élite, utilizing a complex and subtle language and a material of unsurpassed convenience, uses them copiously, but has no philosophical or religious idea comparable to those of Greek or Jew to give the world. It is difficult not to sense an ultimate sterility, a nothingness, at the heart of this glittering tour de force.

And secondly, on ancient Egyptian semiotics;

Another distinction lacking to ancient Egypt was the one most of us make automatically between the name and the thing. For the ancient Egyptian, the name was the thing; the real object we separate from its designation was identical with it. So might be other images. The Egyptians lived in symbolism as fishes do in water, taking it for granted, and we have to break through the assumptions of a profoundly unsymbolic culture to understand them.

Here is a nice followup to the previous passage, from Felipe Fernández-Armesto's Ideas That Changed The World;

What did the Egyptians mean when they said their king was a god? He could bear the name and exercise the functions of many gods, so there was no exact identity-overlap with any one of them. A possible aid to understanding is the habit of making images and erecting shrines as places of opportunity for the gods to make themselves manifest. The image "was" the god only when the god inhabited the image. The Pharaoh could provide a similar function.

Queens Birthday Long Weekend

2006-06-11T13:48:00.000+10:00

Continuing our day of self-indulgence yesterday, taking advantage of the long weekend, we had to decide between Color Me Kubrick and The Chumscrubber. For some reason we made the mistake of choosing the latter, based almost entirely on the presence of Jamie Bell. The film seems to be a contrived effort to establish itself as a cult success, following the pattern set be Donnie Darko. This includes a male teen protagonist, dosed up on anti-depressants, who wanders somnambulently through suburban drama, guided by an imagined undead companion complete with Frank-esque vocal effects. This Film Threat review is totally OTM;

"The art of the suburban-culture film has become paint-by-numbers filmmaking. Throw in some insane characters, medication and a little violence, and…voila, it’s a dark and profound satire on the absurdity of modern life."

Following the film we had a drink at Markov, a new bar buried down Markov Place - a tiny lane off Elgin Street. Like the film, this bar feel contrived and paint-by-numbers. There's nothing wrong with it, it's just another bland bar with all the accouterments - stylish lampshades, dark-red walls, the bar shelves lit up to show off their stock. It's as though there's an Ikea-like catalogue that potential bar-owners can order from, where they purchase all their furnishings, as well as compilation CDs of bland, innocuous house music. Then, we wandered through to Brunswick Street and had dinner at The Fitz. For a busy Saturday night on Brunswick Street, the service here was spot-on; fast, efficient, friendly, and detailed. I had lamb shanks on mashed sweet potato, which was very good. The missus had gnocci with macadamia pesto.

I'm not sure where the last week went

2006-06-10T16:13:00.000+10:00

It's taken me most of the week to get through 'The Growth of the Popular Press', chapter 3 of Raymond Williams' The Long Revolution. It charts the growth of newspapers in England from the 17th century through to the 1950s, and is heavy on circulation figures and percentages. I sometimes felt that a simple graph could have eliminated hundreds of words. Yesterday I had lunch at Spicy Fish Restaurant again. I had to wait for a table this time - word is spreading, I guess. Every time I've been here, someone at an adjacent table orders the spicy fish straight away, without even having to look at the menu, so I'm guessing this trademark dish is what's attracting in the spice-fans throughout the city. I had beef in blackbean sauce, which was a lot better than the regular beef in blackbean one gets at cheap Chinese lunch places, but it wasn't as good as the chicken with chili I had on my first visit. Breakfast at Tom Phat this morning. I opted for the 'Viet fried eggs', which I've had before. This place deserves props for serving up interesting South Asian themed egg dishes where most other cafes are still serving same-old. The poached eggs from Atomica I wrote about a few weeks back were certainly lacking in imagination. Following breakfast, we drove out to Coburg Aquarium, where I bought 8 silvertip tetras and 2 pearl gouramis - it's always exciting getting new fish.

Google Notebook

2006-06-04T12:00:00.000+10:00

Google have launched Google Notebook, which looks like a cross between social bookmarking and blogging. It doesn't work in Safari yet, so I'm playing around with it in Firefox. One downside is that it doesn't have tags. The great thing about something like del.icio.us is that I can search for everything tagged, say, "history" or "philosophy" or "melbourne", and see what people are bookmarking. Also, Notebook has no RSS feeds - so if I find an interesting notebook on a particular subject, I can't 'subscribe' to it - I'd have to keep checking in manually. Still, maybe I'm misinterpreting what Notebook is all about. Speaking of things that don't work on Safari, Gnoos is a new search engine specifically for Australian blogs. I'd love to check it out, but it crashes Safari every time. Here's an article from The Age about it.

Exam over

2006-06-03T15:04:00.000+10:00

The exam went well. It began at 10:30am, and even though I'd had some toast before I left, I knew I'd need something to tide me over for the 3 hour exam. I planned to drop into Newtown on Brunswick Street for some poached eggs (the library where I was to sit the exam is just around the corner), but when I got there the tiny cafe was overflowing. I headed back to Alimentari, which I've always wanted to try. They had a breakfast on their menu which consisted of poached eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and so on. I didn't want a full breakfast, just a couple of poached eggs on toast, but upon asking for this, they told me I could only order what's on the menu. So they were prepared to cook everything, but not just the eggs. Whatevs. I headed to Atomica instead, and got what I wanted there. After a relaxed afternoon at work, it was time to reward myself. I bought neither single-malt whisky nor Roquefort cheese. The single-malt was more expensive than I anticipated, so I settled for Ballantine's, a blended whisky. I'm still testing the waters here, as I mentioned previously, so I've not idea of the prestigiousness of this brand. I'm now wading into the waters of my next two subjects, mentioned a couple of posts ago. I killed some time yesterday afternoon making an Excel spreadsheet which outlines all the work I have to do week by week. I've formatted it all nicely, and it's somewhat inspiring to ponder the breadth of topics I'll be covering. Aside from all this, I've been totally captivated by Alèmu Aga's The Harp of King David, volume 11 in the Ethiopiques series. It's simply the most beautiful music I've heard in such a long time. It's a more subdued affair than the other Ethiopiques discs I've heard, just Alèmu on the beganna (which is like a cross between a kora and a harp), whispering mysteries right in your ear.

Whisky

2006-05-31T13:22:00.000+10:00

I've been studying for an exam which takes place tomorrow morning at my local public library. After that, I'll have finished yet another semester of study, and can reward myself with an indulgent purchase. I'm thinking of buying some single-malt scotch whisky. This is unusual for me because I've always been a drinker of white spirits, yet the thought of buying a bottle of Bombay Sapphire has lost its appeal. I want something more enjoyable, more complex, as a straight drink - a new world for me to explore. I also wouldn't mind getting some of this Roquefort cheese I've been hearing about.

Study Period 2, 2006

2006-05-28T16:28:00.000+10:00

Totally loving Michael Andrews' score to Miranda July's You and Me and Everyone We Know. A new semester begins tomorrow, and these are the two subjects I'll be undertaking; Newspapers in History

This unit explores the role of the newspaper in the history of modern Western society and culture. In particular the unit focuses on the emergence of mass circulation and new forms of journalism in the second half of the nineteenth century. Students will explore historical and analytical frameworks through case studies which address some of the following issues: Effects of the commercialisation of the press; The press and political opinion; The press and cultural authority; Changes in the structure and ownership of the press; Historical analysis of aspects of newspapers (e.g., advertisements, cartoons); Relationship between mainstream and the alternative/radical press; Journalism as a profession and The effects of commercialisation on journalism.

Education: The Social and Historical Context

This unit provides a socio-cultural history of Australian education. It explains the ways that education has influenced Australian society and the manner in which Australian society has effected education and teaching. This unit examines each era of education in Australia from the1780s to present, with focus on the participants and the material taught. As the study progresses in chronological order, modern theory will be examined. Students will explore issues such as the welfare state, citizenship, social class, multiculturalism, inclusion and identity in relation to education. This unit will also examine education markets, higher education, vocational education, image and representation, and lifelong learning.

Update

2006-05-27T19:34:00.000+10:00

With the Roman Eastern Frontier subject over, and only an exam remaining for my other subject (next Thursday morning), I've been fairly relaxed lately. Following a late function at work last Thursday evening, I tried to catch the tram home, only to find the mass of soccer fans impenetrable. Instead I managed to meet up with the missus and her family for a late dinner at Cafe Corretti on Lygon Street. Good pizza. On Friday I had lunch at Spicy Fish Restaurant again, this time trying their titular 'spicy fish'. I think I overestimated my spice threshold, but I made it through to the end, with the help of an icy cold Coke. Dinner at Matsumoto around the corner from home. We'd never tried this Japanese place before, yet plenty of other had, as we were lucky to score a table. Lately been enjoying the Ethiopiques series, Soul Jazz's Tropicalia comp., Os Mutantes, gamelan orchestra comps from Nonesuch Explorer and Smithsonain Folkways, and I'm keen to check out the latest Concretes and Ekkehard Ehlers releases in the coming week.

Essay submitted / Dr Pepper

2006-05-21T19:07:00.000+10:00

Essay finished and submitted. 2503 words, 54 footnotes. Towards the end, it was doing my head in, and I was desperate to finish it. That's 'The Roman Eastern Frontier' over and done with. I have an exam for my other subject on Thursday 1 June. Last night, dinner on Lygon Street with relatives from Adelaide who were in town for the football. My cousin, Scott, must be about 11 years old, and is currently obsessed with Dr. Pepper, of all things. It's impossible to find in Adelaide, apparently, and he'd gotten it into his head that he'd be able to find it in Melbourne. I suggested he try The Original Lolly Shop on Lygon Street, as they stock American soft drinks, but unfortunately they'd sold out of Dr Pepper.

The application Word quit unexpectedly

2006-05-21T15:00:00.000+10:00

Still working on essay. Approaching the finish line. I love computers...

Spicy Fish

2006-05-20T17:05:00.000+10:00

I had a pretty good lunch at Spicy Fish Restaurant yesterday. Diced chicken with chilli and peanuts, Szechuan style, for only $8. Considering the blandness that comes from a foodcourt bain-marie for the same price, I think I've found a new menu to explore on my Fridays in the city. I spent the evening at a friend's house who had recently returned from 5 weeks in Nepal. She had set her digital camera to auto-shutter-release, and captured in stop-motion style, the streets of Kathmandu from the back of a rickshaw. We pass cows, children playing, street markets, and smiling faces. And then UN vehicles, and army trucks, and soldiers. And people, arms linked, placards hung around their necks. She had arrived at the beginnings of the protests which brought down King Gyanendra. Then we drank duty-free Tanqueray and played Katamari Damacy for the rest of the night.

More on Bardaisan

2006-05-20T12:38:00.000+10:00

Bardaisan is really growing on me - an intriguing Edessan local, and a man who brewed his own blend of early Christianity, paganism, neoplatonism, and anthropology. From F. W. Norris' entry on Bardaisan, in the Encyclopedia of Early Christianity;

The teaching of Bardaisan has Gnostic elements, such as a dualism of darkness and light and the view that the material world was created by beings lesser than the one God. Yet he seems to have been a convinced monotheist who avoided a physical dualism. Bardaisan evidently was much interested in astrology and the ways that customs and tradition influenced people’s thoughts, but he had some sense of the importance of human freedom. Although good and evil beset men and women, each person who is in Christ can choose, because Christ countermands the force of the planets. Little is known, however, of Bardaisan’s doctrines concerning the body and the soul, positions that would clearly specify how much he represented Gnostic views.

Dream fragment format

2006-05-19T11:41:00.000+10:00

Extension granted for essay, due to feedback from previous essay arriving late. I have until Monday morning. This morning I dreamt that each time my alarm went off, my clock-radio captured a fragment of my dream, and that if I could only work out what format it was saved in, I could access an archive of these fragments.

Set

2006-05-17T12:09:00.000+10:00

Nothing much to report today. I made it to the half-way mark of my essay last night, before retiring to the lounge to catch Anthony Pateras' performance on Set. I quite enjoyed the piece with Sean Baxter and David Brown, which I thought had an almost gamelan feel in parts. But I decided from the outset that this blog was not to be a music blog, so I'll stop right now. I do want to add though, that there has been some excellent camerawork in this series, particularly a shot which arced down and then floated across Pateras' piano keyboard. The series is now on hold until July, Also, whilst watching the late news... is it just me, or does Bill Shorten resemble Boyd Rice?

Bookmark

2006-05-16T10:33:00.000+10:00

Well aware of my cartographical fixation, the missus bought me this ingenious bookmark, handmade by some artisan called Ramona Raven. That's a sliver of the borderlands between Sweden and Denmark, carefully scissored from an old map or atlas. The choice of this particular bookmark alludes to my fond memories of Copenhagen, which I visited in November 1999.

Gnosticism, Neoplatonism, and Philip K. Dick

2006-05-15T15:22:00.000+10:00

From Delbert Burkett’s An Introduction to the New Testament and the Origins of Christianity, another nice description of Gnosticism…

Gnostic Christians generally thought of salvation as immortality of the soul rather than resurrection of the body. The soul originally existed in a divine realm of light and was itself part of that light. Below this realm of light was the material world, a place of darkness, ignorance, and evil. When the soul descended to the material world, it became trapped in a physical body. The physical body had a negative impact on the soul, enslaving it to various passions and making it forget its true origin and divine nature. Salvation for the soul consisted of recalling its true origin and nature, a knowledge that would allow the soul at death to return to the divine realm. The progress of the soul was impeded by various evil powers that ruled the material world. In some branches of Gnosticism, it was aided by a divine being who descended from the realm of light to reveal the saving knowledge to the soul. Gnostic Christians identified this figure as Jesus or Christ. Some regard him as a purely spiritual being with no physical body.

Philip K. Dick was deeply interested in Gnosticism. I once had a philosophy lecturer, a man of my own age, who had just discovered PKD. He claimed that nobody understood Plato like Dick, and nobody understood Dick like he did – “…all these hipsters who get into Philip K. Dick, they know nothing”.

Nepal

2006-05-15T08:13:00.000+10:00

Great timing. Just as I'm about to submerge into social seclusion so I can finish this essay, my oldest buddy Rowbot returns from six weeks in Nepal. She was even there for the uprising against King Gyanendra.

Mother's Day

2006-05-14T10:49:00.000+10:00

Due to this impending essay, I've had to bail on Mother's Day lunch. Mum isn't too pleased about this, but she understands (I hope). When I was about 10 my father undertook an MBA whilst still working fulltime, so at least she has a reference point. So I feel compelled to work solidly today - no dickin' around on teh web. I've got a lot of Constantine to get through, and I hope to start writing this evening.

Saint Antony

2006-05-13T16:05:00.000+10:00

From Timothy Barnes' Cosntantine and Eusebius, a brief summation of the life of Saint Antony, the forefather of Christian monasticism...

When his parents died, the young Antony gave away his patrimony and entrusted his only sister to a community of virgins. When he began the ascetic life, he copied an old hermit from a neighbouring village who had spent many years in a solitary existence. Antony, too, took up his abode just outside the village. He cut all ties with his family. He labored with his hands to earn enough to buy his daily bread, and he gave any surplus to the needy. He lived alone, practicing self-discipline and praying incessantly. At the age of almost thirty-five, Antony withdrew to the edge of the desert, where he lived in an abandoned fort in total isolation. After nearly twenty years - about 305, on the chronology of the Life of Antony - the door was broken down and Antony emerged like an initiate from the Shrine, full of God. He healed the sick, cast out demons, comforted the sorrowing, reconciled enemies, and urged all to put the love of Christ before anything in this world".

I love the almost superhero feel to this story - Antony spends 20 years in a dilapidated old fort, alone, refining his powers, before breaking down his door and emerging into the light. It was a trying time for Christians, who were being tortured and killed for their religion. Antony takes up the campaign to end persecution.

When the persecution ended, Antony returned to his monastery, where crowds of visitors, among them a Roman army commander, thronged his door seeking cures for their ills. Antony decided to escape, fell in with a Saracen caravan, and came to the remote mountain near the Red Sea where he spent the rest of his life.

And so, after Antony had so dramatically emerged from his solitude, he slipped back into it under cover of nomadic travelers, before spending the rest of his life in the remote mountains. He died, apparently, at the age of 105.

The martyrdom of Candida

2006-05-12T11:28:00.000+10:00

When the ABC took over the screening of The West Wing from the Nine Network, one would expect that it would be treated with more respect. Nine is well known for dumping high-quality / low-rating programs into its schedule willy-nilly; Six Feet Under was dumped in whenever Who Wants To Be A Millionaire finished, so the start time would vary 20 minutes either side of the expected time. I'm a late-comer to The West Wing, and have caught up via the missus' father's DVD collection, so I can only speculate that Nine treated it in the same way it treated Six Feet Under. But the ABC has also been choppy with The West Wing's schedule. And so for some reason I had it in my head that it started at 10pm last night. After a sufficient amount of studying, I retired to the lounge, topped up my wine, and switched to the ABC, only to see the end credits. then we remembered that the time had changed to 8:30pm. All of this is, somehow, by way of saying that I read S. P. Brock's 'A Martyr at the Sasanid Court under Vahran II: Candida' last night. Poor Candida - not only does she suffer the indignation of having a nasty yeast infection named after her, but her supposed torture at the hands of Vahran II is one of the most brutal punishments I've read about from this period. I'll spare the gory details, suffice to say that (to use a cliche) 'Freud would have a field day'.

My views are well known and controversial

2006-05-11T16:49:00.000+10:00

From Timothy Barnes' 'Constantine and the Christian Church', in Samuel Lieu & Dominic Montserrat (eds.), Constantine: History, Historiography and Legend.

Whether Constantine also in the years after 324 bestowed on Christianity the priveleged standing of which he deprived paganism is a question on which my views are well known and controversial. In this chapter, however, I do not wish to traverse this boggy terrain again.

This is a handy line to use when discussions turn to controversial matters - ie. "Whether we should buy the shiraz or the merlot is a question on which my views are well known and controversial". It can even be followed up with "I do not wish to traverse this boggy terrain again".

Removing the arms

2006-05-11T11:49:00.000+10:00

I removed the arms from my chair last night. It's an office chair I salvaged from friends who were moving to Brazil. I've got an old wooden desk, with drawers down one side. The arms of the chair stopped me from being able to pull the chair right in. It's been like this for over a year, and causes me to crouch over whilst studying. Last night I had an epiphany, and removed the arms. Now I can sit upright, and it seems to help my concentration (at least, that's what I'm telling myself).

Gnosticism

2006-05-08T15:12:00.000+10:00

From “Early Christianity And Edessan Culture”, chapter 6 of Steven K. Ross’ Roman Edessa, a nice summation of Gnosticism which highlights its Neoplatonic influence;

Gnosticism (or ‘Gnosis’) as a philosophy remains ill defined, as is to be expected of an esoteric movement that, until the discovery in this century of a secret cache of texts, was known primarily through the writings of its detractors. Although it is misleading to speak of a unitary ‘Gnostic religion’, it can in general be said that the Gnostics stressed salvation from the evils of existence but de-emphasized both ‘faith’ and moral behaviour, or good works, as paths to it, putting their trust instead in insight, or the knowledge of certain mysteries known to an elect few who would uniquely be saved. Along with this soteriology went a dualistic cosmology and theology that, like Marcion (himself often counted among the Gnostics), tended to deprecate the world and even the heavenly bodies as the work of an inferior Demiurge. The Gnostics spoke instead of an invisible or 'stranger' God, indescibable and in the unseen heaven, as the true source of all good, and the one with which the adherents of gnosis - trapped in a world of darkness and matter - must strive to be reunited.

For the Gnostics, salvation came through escaping Plato's metaphorical cave, where they had been mistakenly imprisoned by a lesser, clumsy God.

Julian's sarcasm

2006-05-03T16:36:00.000+10:00

Julian the Apostate, Roman Emperor of the Constantinian dynasty from 361 to 363, wrote a letter to the city of Edessa, where the Arians had been harassing the Gnostics. Here is an excerpt, in which Julian's sarcastic take on asceticism displays his sharp, dry wit.

Therefore, since by a most admirable law they have been advised to prefer poverty, in order to journey by the easier way to the kingdom of heaven; in order that we may assist their people to this, we have ordered all the money belonging to the church of the Edessenes to be taken away, so that it may be given to the soldiers. I have also ordered that their possessions are to be added to our private domain; in order that being in poverty they may be prudent and not be deprived of the heavenly kingdom, which they still hope for.

Bardaisanites vs. Marcionites

2006-05-03T14:36:00.000+10:00

Bardaisan's son Harmonius received his education in Athens, a hotbed of intellectual pursuit and learning. True to his name, he became an accomplished composer, and on return to Edessa he set his father's writings to catchy tunes. Bardaisan and his followers would spend rowdy evenings drinking wine and singing these songs. By day they would go hunting, with Bardaisan's unparalleled archery skills on full display. Bardaisan taught that God had not created the world ex nihilo, but had simply shuffled the pre-existing elements (water, earth, fire and light) into a specific order. With each new generation, the elements merged into an increasingly purer form, and thus procreation was encouraged. Moreover, it seemed that the world had been created to be enjoyed by humankind. Bardaisan's ideas were at odds with the Marcionites, a black-clad vegan sect who practiced abstinence. They believed that the material world lay sandwiched between a good God and an evil God. The body was considered evil and tainted, and thus sexual intercourse was forbidden, as was the consumption of meat. Not surprisingly, the two sects were is stark contrast to each other, and competition for adherents was fierce. I know which side I would join.

Bardaisan

2006-05-03T11:12:00.000+10:00

Last night, I began reading for the next essay - 2500 words on the diffusion of Christianity in the Roman eastern frontier, due 19 May. Currently reading about the many sects which formed in the aftermath of the crucifixion - such as the Encratities, Marcionites, Bardaisanites, and Gnostics. Bardaisan was a Edessan man-about-town; a philosopher, poet, courtier, astrologer, historian, sportsman, evangelist, and fashionista. He considered archery to be an art form, and his skills in it were unsurpassed. He could 'paint' portraits of people with arrow-holes upon a target. In his text The Book of the Laws of Divers Countries, he discusses the problem of free-will;

"The nature of man is, that he should be born, and grow up, and rise to his full stature, and produce children, and grow old, eating and drinking, and sleeping and waking, and that then he should die. These things, because they are of nature, belong to all men; and not to all men only, but also to all animals whatsoever, and some of them also to trees. For this is the work of physical nature, which makes and produces and regulates everything just as it has been commanded. Nature, I say, is found to be maintained among animals also in their actions. For the lion eats flesh, in accordance with his nature; and therefore all lions are eaters of flesh. The sheep eats grass; and therefore all sheep are eaters of grass, The bee makes honey, by which it is sustained; therefore all bees are makers of honey. The ant collects for herself a store in summer, from which to sustain herself in winter; and therefore do all ants act likewise. The scorpion strikes with its sting him who has not hurt it; and thus do all scorpions strike. Thus all animals preserve their nature: the eaters of flesh do not eat herbage; nor do the eaters of herbage eat flesh. "Men, on the contrary, are not governed thus; but, whilst in the matters pertaining to their bodies they preserve their nature like animals, in the matters pertaining to their minds they do that which they choose, as those who are free, and endowed with power, and as made in the likeness of God. For there are some of them that eat flesh, and do not touch bread; and there are some of them that make a distinction between the several kinds of flesh-food; and there are some of them that do not eat the flesh of any animal whatever. There are some of them that become the husbands of their mothers, and of their sisters, and of their daughters; and there are some who do not consort with women at all. There are those who take it upon themselves to inflict vengeance, like lions and leopards; and there are those who strike him that has not done them any wrong, like scorpions; and there are those that are led like sheep, and do not harm their conductors. There are some that behave themselves with kindness, and some with justice, and some with wickedness.

Rainy day

2006-04-30T17:36:00.000+10:00

I'm a mere 200 words away from finishing this essay on assimilation, but I've decided to hold back until I receive the full feedback on my first essay, which should arrive in the post by Tuesday. It's a grey wintery day here in Brunswick. Apart from staying indoors listening to Os Mutantes, I went for a psychogeographic excursion through the rainy streets.

Racially based immigration policies

2006-04-28T10:00:00.000+10:00

My essay on assimilation is due today, but I've been given an inadvertant extension, due to delays in receiving feedback for my first essay. That feedback arrived today, and I'm very happy with the results. The first essay was on the economic depression of the 1890s, and how the trade union movement pushed a vision of national identity which focused on race, in order to block the import of cheap Asian labour, particularly on Queensland sugarcane plantations. Of course, the connecting point between this and the subject of the next essay (assimilation), is the White Australia Policy, which guided Australian immigration policy for around 70 years. A central plank of this policy was the diction test, whereby potential immigrants could be tested on their knowledge of a European language. The trap was that the immigration officials got to choose the European language, so even if an Asian immigrant was fluent in English, the test could be done in German. Thus, impartiality could be claimed, averting any claims of racially-biased immigration policies. It was a thin disguise for an obviously racist policy. In the news today - recent calls for compulsory English language tests, and knowledge of 'Australian values'. It's shaky ground, not necessarily because of any implicit racism in such a task, but because of the ambiguity of 'Australian values', and whose definitions we attempt to enforce.

The importance of coffee

2006-04-25T11:22:00.000+10:00

As it transpires, I’ve chosen to write the next essay on the shift from the exclusionary White Australia Policy, towards Assimilation, and that whilst assimilation is a dirty word today, it acted as a coping-mechanism for Australia’s part in the post-war global migrations of people, and was a necessary stepping-stone towards cultural pluralism and multiculturalism. From John Murphy’s Imagining the Fifties: Private Sentiment and Political Culture in Menzies’ Australia:

…if the idea of assimilation was partly a reassurance that the ‘way of life’ would never change, it was also a transitional strategy, while the vast social and cultural transformation resulting from migration began to work its way towards more diverse imaginings of national identity.

And from Gwenda Tavan's 'Good Neighbours: Community Organisations, Migrant Assimilation and Australian Society and Culture 1950-1961':

As a transitional doctrine, assimilation allowed Australians to make sense of, contain, and ultimately accept social and cultural change, by gradually, if equivocally, incorporating the reality of an ethnically mixed population into popular conceptions of the Australian nation.

I also like this exposition on the importance of coffee in the reverse-assimilation project:

This sense of cultural change and diversification partly explains the iconic status of espresso coffee in the period, as a happy contrast to appalling coffee substitutes made of chicory essence and boiled milk. Italian coffee bars were represented as a ‘romantic whiff of continental life’ with ‘the last word in décor and style’.

Millennium

2006-04-24T15:37:00.001+10:00

Felipe Fernández-Armesto's Millennium arrived in the mail today (via an Ebay auction). I first discovered this historian whilst at the State Library, looking for something glossy to rest my text-weary eyes on. I found Fernández-Armesto's Ideas That Changed The World, published by the masters of glossy, well-designed non-fiction, Dorling Kindersley. Each page of Ideas That Changed The World focuses on... umm... an idea that changed the world - from socialism to cultural relativism, from liberalism to the idea of god, from relativity to... you get the idea. I became so absorbed that I had to head immediately to a bookshop to buy my own copy, which now sits by my bedside - and I try to read a page or two before lights-out - it's something for the brain to chew on whilst I doze off, instead of dwelling on useless things like frustrations with work colleagues or how little money we have. Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing Fernández-Armesto stretch out, unrestricted by a page-per-idea.

Another essay down

2006-04-22T17:36:00.000+10:00

The essay on the uprising of Palmyra in 270 AD has been completed and submitted. 2483 words, 71 footnotes. Next is an essay for my other subject, which doesn't often get mentioned here - this will be on Australia's national identity in the post-war period, and will either be with respect to the Cold War and the rise of suburbia, or the White Australia Policy and assissted immigration schemes of the 1950s. This is due next Friday (28 April). After that, I've got three weeks to write another 2500 word essay, probably on the rise of Christianity in Rome's Near East frontier (due 19 May). In the middle of that three week period, I've got my grandfather's 80th birthday to attend in Adelaide (7 May). Following that essay, I've got a couple of weeks before I have an exam (1 June). Two interesting subjects lined up for next semester - one on the history of education in Australia, the other on the history of newspapers.

Arab dandyism

2006-04-19T18:30:00.000+10:00

The Scriptores Historiae Augustae on Herodes, son of Odeanathus…

…he was the most effeminate of men, wholly oriental and given over to Grecian luxury, for he had embroidered tents and pavilions made out of cloth of gold and everything in the manner of the Persians. In fact Odeanathus, complying with his ways and moved by the promptings of a father’s indulgence, gave him all the king’s concubines and riches and jewels that he captured. Zenobia, indeed, treated him in a step-mother’s way, and this made him all the more dear to his father. Nothing more remains to be said converning Herodes.

Zebba and Jadhima

2006-04-18T18:03:00.000+10:00

I spent the majority of this wet Easter cooped up in a cabin in Marysville, reading about Palmyra for an essay which is due on Friday. Richard Stoneman’s account of Zenobia’s uprising is just the kind of historical work I love; it’s tight, engaging, and filled with interesting sidetracks. In chapter 7 of Palmyra and Its Empire, he ventures into the works of ninth century Arab historian Abu Jafar Muhammad ibn Jarir at-Tabari, recalling the meeting between the queen of Palmyra (here she is named Zebba) and the king of the Tanukh people, where they are to discuss a marriage proposal…

The two parties met at a place called Rabbat-Malik-ibn-Tauk. The accounts of the meeting vary slightly, but the central feature is that Zebba responds to Jadhima’s assent to the idea of a marriage by lifting her skirts to reveal her private parts. The length and quality of her pubic hair (the name Zebba means “with beautiful long hair”) astonishes Jadhima, and Zebba remarks that one with such an appearance is hardly a suitable bride for him. The point being made is not altogether clear, but the scene recalls interestingly the meeting of Solomon and the queen of Sheba, when the king induces the queen to walk across a mirror that he pretends is a stream, As she lifts her skirt to do so, Solomon catches sight of her hairy legs and ceases to find her attractive.

As it turns out, Zebba’s beautiful muff wasn’t the only the only reason she agreed to the meeting, for she also planned to besiege Jadhima, her arch rival.

A squadron of Zebba’s cavalry now surrounded Jadhima, unhorsed him, and brought him to the queen. “How do you wish to die?” she asked. And he replied, “Like a king”. He was served a meal, with plenty of wine. As he began to doze off with the effects of the alcohol, he was placed in a leather blanket and the veins of his wrists were opened. His blood was collected in vases, since it was believed that the blood of kings had special virtues against madness.

Never too old...

2006-04-12T11:30:00.000+10:00

Martin Sheen's post-West Wing plans (from this New York Times article):

At 65, he has decided to make good on a promise he made to himself long ago: to enroll, for the first time, in college. A graduate, though just barely, of Chaminade High School in Dayton, Ohio, nearly five decades ago, he will began taking classes next fall — in English literature, philosophy and, he hopes, oceanography — at National University of Ireland in Galway, in the country where his mother was born.

Relieves my anxiety about finishing mine at the age of 33.

A Little History of the World

2006-04-12T10:00:00.000+10:00

I dropped into the Brunswick Street Bookstore on Monday evening's journey home from work, specifically to check out A Little History of the World. A friend had told me about this recently - a history of the world written for children by the Austrian art historian Ernst Gombrich in 1935. Although it's been translated into numerous languages, Gombrich held off on an English translation, because he felt the English were too insular to appreciate the wider context of world history. Finally, just before his death in 2001, he decided to allow for an English edition. There is a 'delightful' article here. At $50 for the current hardcover, I'll be waiting for the paperback edition.

Palmyran ambitions

2006-04-09T15:49:00.000+10:00

I received back my essay on the Alexander Severus' war against the Persians. I am pleased with the result. The next essay is due on 21 April. I've decided to write about Palmyra c. 250-272 AD - the merchant city in the Syrian Desert, where one could find statues of caravan leaders lining the bazaars, as though they were emperors themselves. The city which, under the leadership of Odaenathus, won back the eastern provinces for the bungling Roman Empire, and which later, under the command of Odaenathus' wife and son, went all Kurtz and attempted to establish its own empire throughout Syria, Mesopotamia, and Egypt. Zenobia, the aforementioned widow of Odaenathus, was captured and brought to Rome in gold chains, an event which seems to have sparked some Gorean imagination.

Miriades, the crooked

2006-04-08T09:41:00.000+10:00

Miriades, a crooked Syrian, killed his father and stole his fortunes, before siding with the enemy Persian army (c. 253 AD). He convinced Shapur, the Persian king, to attack Antioch, Miriades' home town. Ammianus Marcellinus describes the attack;

For it happened one day at Antioch, when the city was in perfect tranquility, a comic actor being on the stage with his wife, acting some common scene from daily life, while the people were delighted with his acting, his wife suddenly exclaimed: 'Am I dreaming or are there Persians here?' The audience immediately turned round and then fled in every direction while trying to avoid the missiles which were showered upon them.

Libanius, Greek sophist and "one of the most influential pagans of the fourth century", continues;

[The people of Antioch] were attacked as they sat in the theatre by archers who had occupied the mountain top.

An anonymous contributor to Cassius Dio's history sinks the boot into the working class;

The respectable classes fled the city but the majority of the populace remained: partly because they were well disposed towards Mariades and partly because they were glad of any revolution; such as is customary with ignorant people.

Antioch was attacked, plundered, then destroyed. The Persians repaid Miriades by decapitating him for betraying his own people.

A shitty way to die

2006-04-06T10:50:00.000+10:00

From the Historiae Auguste, on Philip the Arab's murder of Timesitheus;

Philip, they say, was mightily in fear of him for many reasons and on this account plotted with the doctors against his life. He did it in this way: Timesitheus, as it happened, was suffering from diarrhoea and was told by the doctors to take a portion to check it. And then, they say, they changed what had been prepared and gave him something which loosened him all the more; and thus he died.

Quiet

2006-03-18T17:40:00.000+11:00

I haven't been posting much. I've been working on a essay on the first battle between Rome and the Sassainian Empire. We bought a huge French stick from Sugardough, and I've been dipping it in Lebanese extra-virgin olive oil, tahini, and za'atar. Sensational. Here's a great photo of the Miramar Nut Shop from the State Library of Victoria archives...

Ali Farka Toure

2006-03-08T16:45:00.000+11:00

R.I.P. Ali Farka Toure

Burgal

2006-03-08T10:13:00.000+11:00

I can’t remember what this dish is called, but it’s burgal with onion, chilli, pine nuts, turmeric, and cinnamon. After dinner, a couple of hours reading “Rome, Syria, Parthians and Persians”; chapter two of Kevin Butcher’s Roman Syria and the Near East. So far, it’s been discussing Parthian politics and culture, and the early Roman relations, which seems to have consisted of diplomacy peppered with occasional battles. It’s a nice read; tight, smooth writing which evokes the imagination with ease. And then more West Wing on DVD.

nuoc mam

2006-03-07T09:27:00.000+11:00

I made last night: cambodian chicken & sweet potato curry, using the nuoc mam and galangal I bought on Smith Street yesterday.

We made hummus

2006-03-05T14:49:00.000+11:00

I love the Miramar Nut Shop. I love that they treat me with the kind of suspicion reserved for 'outsiders'. I love being treated like a Western tourist in my own neighbourhood; it's somehow cleansing, washing away the confidence we carry around this city, as though it belongs to us and others are merely cultural fringedwellers. Yesterday I bought bulgur wheat, pine nuts, olive oil, and tahini. Then the missus made hummus.

Rome's Desert Frontier

2006-03-04T17:27:00.000+11:00

Chapter 2 of Kennedy & Riley's Rome's Desert Frontier proved to be more time consuming than anticipated. I finished it on Friday afternoon. It's a broad overview of Rome's military presence in the Near East, from the arrival of Pompey in 65 BC to the first Muslim attacks at Yarmuk in 636 AD. It covers the wars against the Parthians and the Persians, and the alliances with the Arabs. I started reading George Tate's "The Syrian Countryside During the Roman Era", from Susan E. Alcock (ed.) The Early Roman Empire in the East. I made a fair dent in it before being summoned away for a Friday afternoon drink. So far, it's covered the sedentarization of the Arab tribes around Syria, up to 400 AD. I'm intrigued by the bandits of Trachonitis (from page 57);

Throughout the first century BC, the region was marked by poverty and banditry. By bandits, ancient writers meant rebels to the established order and to the peasants' sedentary way of life. These bandits lived in Trachonitis, modern Ledja, a vast basaltic plateau filled with grottoes that were used as places of refuge.

I also had on hand Lemprière's Classical Dictionary, and found this passage from the entry on Palmyra quite, erm, charming.

It is now in ruins, and the splendid and magnificent remains of its portices, temples, and palaces, are visited with astonishment and rapture by the curious and the learned.