Remembering Juliette

Last week was the first anniversary of me finding out my first girlfriend had died. A year since the phone call saying the death notice was in the paper, a year since the funeral. It was the biggest reason I didn't blog much last year. I'd never lost anyone that close to me before and it really knocked me back for a while. I was pondering just what to blog about this, or even to blog about it at all. It's a confusing thing. She was the centre of my world once, but not for that long and it was half a lifetime ago, so why so bothered? What level of grief is appropriate? Is there even such a thing? But then you remember that even if you didn't see them often, you still cared about this person.

This is me and Juliette about a million nineteen years ago. We dated for 9 months between summers in 1994, when we were both 17 turning 18. I was a first year, and she was in her last year of high school. I wasn't her first, and very much a naif - she taught me a lot about how to be in a relationship. Somebody had to, since I was clueless on the topic. Both being stroppy teenagers, we partied well (I've been told we appeared virtually inseperable at times), and occasionally fought well too. Lots of good times, a few forgettable ones, and a few that will forever stay between me and her to protect the innocent guilty.

We didn't end well, and were on each others shitlists for a while, but stayed in the same circles and eventually realised that we actually could still be friends. After a few years we were pretty much reconciled (and ironically being a bit more mature much better suited to being in an actual relationship, had the prior history not been there). Eventually though as the 90's drew to a close we went separate ways, and lost touch a little bit. We caught up on the odd occasion, but after around 2003 I lost touch with her completely until a couple of years ago. The last time I saw her was about a year before she died (at a barbecue notable for the attendance of not only all of my exes but my wife. Since they are all nice people, my world didn't implode). My wife being the wonderful soul she is, left us alone to fill in the gaps. The deal fate gave her in the form of bipolar disorder was a particularly shitty one, and the intervening years unkind. It saddens me still to think of all the talents she had (she was good at a lot of things), and potential and happiness she wasn't able to realise. After a lot of struggle though, things seemed to be looking up for her. We parted well that night, at peace with each other, and made plans to try and see each other a bit more often, but busy lives got in the way and suddenly there could be no more catchups ever. 

It occurred to me that when an ex dies, and you are still living in the same place as you were when you were dating, it's a bit like breaking up with them all over again. You look around and remember, this is where we did this, that is where we did that, like no time has passed at all. I thought about what I could write about, what stories to relate, but then realised that the things that most reminded me of her were songs. Music was one of the things we bonded over and nearly two decades later the associations are still strong, so that is the eulogy I'm choosing. They might not be particularly great or funny memories, but they're mine.

The song she hated because she thought love should be a 24/7 thing : Friday I’m In Love

The song that reminds me a lot of that time, of being old enough to date, but still young enough to be restricted, particularly when it comes to having to catch buses to get around if the parents you are still living with won't lend you a car: Dancing in the moonlight

The song that we discussed a lot, and just seemed to capture a lot of moments, including a discussion at a party with somebody or other's cousin, who was the lead singer with a deep voice of an improbably named band called Thrusthusband (a name they wrote in Greek), and just how the deep voice in the song worked: Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm

The song she requested for me one night when we were playing dedication tag on Kix FM: Tunnel of Love. They didn't have it, so played Imagine instead, which isn't one of my faves (to put it politely). I still have the tape of the announcer's explanation somewhere.
 

The song I got played for her: Nights In White Satin. She loved The Moody Blues.

The song that at 2:20 reminds me of a single perfect moment at the 1994 Sacred Heart school ball : Hey Now (Girls Just Want To Have Fun)

The song she got bouncing up and down excited about in the car one Friday night on the way to her hockey game because she picked the “very late” lyric before it came up on her first listen: Round Here. It’s one of my favourite memories of her. I still remember the exact stretch of road we were on.

The two songs we bought a matching pair of cassingles together: Mr Jones and Streets Of Philadelphia.

The song from that year's Pink Floyd album, that we sat with nothing to say just staring out the window from her parents lounge one rainy day: Marooned. She gave me a Pink Floyd T-Shirt for my birthday, which still fits.

The song that always reminds me of a particular Friday night party in March 1994 and going to watch her play high school cricket the next day, and whose “time to say goodbye now” lyric particularly resonated after her death: Tear in your hand.

The album she introduced me to, via an arabian pirate copy she got when her family lived in Syria: Wish You Were Here

The song I first heard on a Vic Uni pub crawl we both went on, on a jukebox in the old St George Hotel bar, despite neither of us being Vic students, or of a legal age to drink: Disarm. The opening to this song from the same album is beautiful and always reminds me of those times. That album was everywhere then.

The song from an album that was at every party we went to then, and would remind me of her in the period after we split: Sitting Inside My Head.

The song I played at her the night we broke up. Yeah, subtle: Crazy Love Part II.

Two songs that for whatever reasons, helped me deal with things last year: Diamond Jigsaw and Scribble. When driving alone in the car at night for a couple of weeks I would just play them over and over.

We both loved Supertramp. I remember her favourite song of theirs was School, but they carried her coffin out of the church to Take The Long Way Home. It's a favourite of mine but I haven't felt the urge to listen to it since.

Dope On A Rope

Yesterday might have been my wife's birthday (Happy Birthday to Fi, who also took all these photos BTW), but I got a great present in the form of participating in a winching demonstration at the Life Flight Open Day, after winning a radio competition a few days ago to play the role of sandbag/volunteer/item to be winched. That's me with the paramedic on the end of the cable.

The helmet helped, but it wasn't as noisy or windy as I was expecting, and they haven't dropped anyone yet, so I wasn't worried about falling. It was great fun; it honestly never occured to be to be nervous or anything. Watching the helicopter get closer and closer was cool, until it eventually blotted out the sun as it came to the hover about fifteen feet above me.

Since the crewman's head is only about a foot away, and you're trying not to move around too much as requested (as well as enjoy myself, my main focus was to listen to the guys whose job this is, and not do anything dumb), you can't actually see much on the winch. I did have a surreal moment when we got level with the aircraft, and I looked down it's length and thought "Do you realise just where you are right now? You're hanging outside a helicopter thats forty feet in the air!". It was cool.

Safely retrieved we flew past the crowd, who were waving so it seemed only polite to wave back. We then picked up a few more draw-winners and headed off for a flight around the city.

 Did I mention I was picked up from the back of a fire engine? Even more awesome points.

As well as being  a good launch pad the airport appliance was a great place to watch passing traffic while waiting for the helicopter to launch. I have terrible posture in this shot, but I blame the harness. I've spent a bit of time wearing them for this and that over the years and they never make you look good :)

So now I can cross being winched into an airborne helicopter off my to-do list. It was a privilege and a lot of fun, and thanks to everyone at the Life Flight Trust and Classic Hits who made it happen (hopefully circumstances like these are the only time I get to do this!).

Back in the saddle

So after getting my bike looked at and adjusted a little by my physio, on Sunday I was allowed to try my first ride since The Hip. That's what I'm calling my injury now. It rolls off the tongue a bit easier than gluteal weakness, although the latter enables jokes to be made about going about things half-arsed.

I had to promise to only put in a short 30-30min gentle ride. No hills, and nothing beyond an ambling pace.

In one of those moments where everything works, the random shuffle on my MP3 player seemed to have known something was up.

First up as I hopped on (sort of, mounting and dismounting is still painful) it played "Crime Scene Part One" by The Afghan Whigs, which is close to being my favourite song ever.

Then it followed up with some favourite tracks right now in the form of "One and Only" by Concord Dawn, and "Keys to the Kingdom" by Unkle.

I was in a really good mood by this time, so got carried away and took some air off a judder bar. This was a painful mistake since The Hip isn't ready for any out of the saddle riding yet. Appropriately right then I got played "What makes you think you're the one?" by Fleetwood Mac.

The pain didn't last long though, and I finished the brief ride with the defiant "Rooster" by Alice in Chains. It was a nice sunny day, the wind was behind me and I felt ecstatic. I hadn't realised just how much I enjoy the riding for it's own sake.

I've also managed to get back on a netball court, having carefully played a few quarters. After several physio sessions and a heap of directed stretching and strengthening exercises I'm back up to around 60-70% of where I was pre-injury. It still hurts if I move it wrong, I still can't run properly (sprinting still doesn't work), and I am favouring it automatically; the confidence of movement hasn't come back yet. In game itself it's still a bit niggly and unsettled, and I am constantly aware of things not being quite right. The non-sprint means full court netball is still out, so I have only been playing half court positions. Short dashes and darts are working so far, which is good since as feared I've lost a lot of fitness in the last month of not doing anything. It's a lot better than it was a few weeks ago though (I was worried initially about being able to play or ride again at all). Coming back from injury I have always found a bit awkward, this time is no different.

Leap Day

Not much to say at the moment, but I really wanted to have Feb 29th as a posting date :)

I'm certainly not doing much leaping at the moment as I'm still restricted from exercise, although I am getting my mobility back. My hip has been figured as suffering from the gluteal muscles getting out of balance strength wise, and thus pushing the joint geometry out of whack, leading to the pain and restriction I've been getting. Some good physiotherapy and rest has seen a lot of improvement though. The therapy is including acupuncture, which I've never had before and was somewhat uncomfortable but *wow* impressively and instantly effective, even if it gives me what feels like an instant deep bruise. I still can't run yet, not from being banned from it, more because I physically can't quite do it until I get the joint back to doing what it should. I'm not allowed on the bike either, although I did manage a swim on Saturday night (technically early Sunday morning to be precise) for a polio eradication fundraiser. Swimming while dragging a leg was harder than I thought it would be, especially at 1am.

I have progressed enough to be allowed a very limited return to netball if I feel up to it early next week. I'm not up to it now, so will see how things go. I've realised my body confidence (in terms of moving certain ways without worrying about it) is completely shot, more so than usual with the strains and sprains I have much more experience of. Since biking is what we think precipitated this situation in the first place, I am a bit leery about getting back on that too without some strategies in place.

In the meantime, here are some pics:

Here I am not doing Round the Bays on Sunday, perching precariously on the City to Sea bridge and watching the procession. I spent a few hours sleeping on that bridge one night, but that's another story:
And here is Fi on her way to kicking the 7K run's arse. She is the smiley one at the bottom looking like she is throwing the goat. That isn't what she is doing though, if you speak ASL you'll get it. Not being able to run it with her in her first RTB was the biggest disappointment about not being able to participate.
I've been using the downtime to attend to some maintenance on my bike, mainly replacing the brake pads and cables and reconditioning the rotors. The cables and pads in particular were shagged. Handy hint: if your cable cutters aren't cutting it, try annealing the cable by locally heating the bit you want to cut, ideally to red-hot, then letting it cool in the air. This softens the metal and makes for an easier cut. Doing this without setting fire to the bike is generally a plus:
This is the immediate people-milling-about aftermath and location of the calamitous Hobbit casting-call back in January, about as close to my doorstep as it could be. They could have asked me about the wisdom of the location, and I would have told them it was a dumb idea...
And finally a picture I took of something some friends of mine were involved in (would have played, but...) on a national website. It's uncredited, so you'll just have to take my word for it. As for the sport, I could try and explain it, but it's a bit like the Matrix; you just have to see it for yourself.

Talking sdrawkcab

This has been bounced my way from a couple of sources lately:

To be clear what Alyssa is doing isn't literally saying the words backwards; with a couple of exceptions if you reverse the audio you won't hear the words as they normally sound. What she seems to be doing is pronouncing the words as if they were spelt backwards (there is a good rundown from my layman's perspective on the various backwards ways here).

This viral video I've found more interesting than most, because I can do it too. Not as conversational-speed fast as Alyssa can (and even if some of the words or combos are ones she has already figured out and thus knows from memory, the response speed is seriously impressive), but usually within the 'three seconds' yardstick for the video.

It is something I used to do as a party trick in my teens and twenties, but had forgotten about until now. If I can spell a word forwards, I can say it backwards. I just visualise the written word in my head and read it backwards. I don't jumble the letters until they read forward just reversed - reading it backwards is a lot simpler. In doing this I find I treat the word as if it is one I have never read before, breaking it into syllable sized pronunciation chunks, before saying it out loud. Like any reading, if you already know what a particular letter grouping sounds like you can just plug it in and make the process easier (some words also have natural backwards analogues, like time / emit).

I don't remember learning how to do this; I think I just tried it one day and found I could, and I've got no idea what this says about the way my mind works. I'm told though by people who know that the above is a reasonably tricksy cognitive ability, even if it seems perfectly natural to me.

After doing a little reading around on the topic I have been playing around with the other expressions of this, dna dnuof I evah on elbuort ginpyt sdrawkcab rehtie (or more correctly rehtie sdrawkcab gnipyt elbuort on evah I dnuof dna) albeit at a slightly slower pace as typing normally. I tried reciting the alphabet backwards this morning too, and found I could do that too. Reading mirror or upside down text is also not a problem. So can my wife, which is handy since she is a teacher. She can also do the reverse pronunciation a bit as well.

While I figured from the responses I got years ago that not everyone could do this, I didn't think it was that unusual that I could, and I know there are others that can do it a lot better. As it is I'm a bit bemused to find something I can do going viral. It's pretty cool. That may have been my fifteen minutes of fame right there :).

Permanent Marker

"Well said, what people forget when they get these tattoos is that the skin gets old and then they just look trashy."

"I tell my kids to treat tattoos as useful warning signs that the wearer isn't all there."

"Tats are disgusting and I'll never marry a girl with them. It just spells uneducated and being a bogan."

"Tattoos are tacky. They make the wearer look grubby. They pigeon-hole the wearer as of a lower class and/or intelligence."

"Graffitti. Tattoos are nothing more than body graffitti and are as much of an eyesore."

"Tatts are suitable for fools, losers, common criminals, the deeply insecure and those who reject Christian values."

"I think of them as an IQ test and everyone gets to see the score"

If you agree with any of the above then you don't get it. They are a sampling of typical comments from people agreeing with this opinion piece published last week: Are tattoos a tragic mistake? (Stuff via the Sydney Morning Herald).

There were many other comments disagreeing with it (including one or two from myself), but the fact it attracted 500+ for and against comments from readers illustrates that tattooing clearly isn't as mainstream accepted as the author suggests. I know it's just morons on the internet, and I shouldn't get worked up about it, but when people are making judgements without basis on my morals and intelligence (not to mention my wife's, since she has a couple too), simply based on whether or not I'm baring my arms that day, it gets annoying.

The author makes a single good point in that tattoos are permanent, and you should think long and hard before getting one, but the rest of the piece is presumptuous garbage, from someone who doesn't like tattoos, and has only the barest insight into why people get them (like many tattoo critics). The peak of hilarity is the bit where she claims to be not preaching or judging, despite spending the whole piece doing exactly that.

I have two tattoos. I can bare or hide them as I choose. I'll probably get more before I'm done. I didn't get mine as a doe eyed teenager, on a whim, or on a wild night out (not that I'm criticising anyone who has done that. If you did, and are still happy with the results, cool). I spent years deciding what they were going to look like, and involved collaborators with them before taking them to the needle. I didn't get them to be cool, to copy anyone else or to fit in to some crowd. I got them because I like tattoos, have been interested in them for years and wanted some for myself (and have no concerns about how they will look when I am old by the way). While there are indeed some tragic examples out there, there are also some breathtakingly exquisite and beautiful ones too. I like the idea of permanence and I laugh at the notion that only the insecure or extroverted get them. Baring tattoos in public is a sign of self confidence if anything, and anyone who knows me personally will tell you just how extroverted I'm not.

While both of mine are generic types of tattoo, the specific designs are unique to me. There may be many tattoos like them, but these ones are mine. Both have obvious meanings, and not so obvious ones as well. "You're just doing it to be different, like everyone else" tattoo critics don't get that; it isn't the act of tattooing that is individualistic, it is the design, and what it means to the wearer. And while I've heard the odd disparaging comment directed my way when people thought I couldn't hear them, I have also had complete strangers come up to me and complement me on the designs.

I get that not everyone should get tattoos, not all tattoos are good ideas, and not everyone likes them. But here's the thing; I have no opinion on you getting tattoos or not, unless you ask me directly for advice. It's none of my business and they aren't compulsory. There are some design types I don't like and would never get, but that's me. If you don't have them, don't ever want one that's cool. Your skin, your business. By the same token I don't care if you don't like mine; they aren't on your skin, so it isn't your problem. I didn't get tattooed to impress anyone, or prove anything, or rebel against anyone. If you think I did, you don't get it.

My body is a temple-I just got the decorators in.

Now we are three

Yiddle Charlotte (she doesn't really do 'L's yet, but that was something her dad took five years to master) is three as of last weekend. We had a follow up visit with her surgeon today, and that was a reminder of how far she has come.

Here she is on her actual birthday (Saturday), being her inquisitive self:
And with yiddle Sophie, sleeping off a hard day of excitement:

And with her equally amazing mum, unintentionally (I swear) rocking the same T-shirt a few weeks ago.
She had a fairy birthday party yesterday, and Sophie who is closing in on five months old now made sure she dressed theme appropriate:
Before busting out a few moves on the Jolly Jumper

Born on Mother's Day, Christened on Father's Day

Sophie was born on Mother's Day this year, so christening her on Father's Day on Sunday was a nice coincidence. She was christened wearing the same baptismal gown worn by her mother, aunt, and two cousins, and no bottles of champagne were broken over anything in the process :)

35 today

As of this afternoon I'm 35 years old.

I'm reminded of the lyric at 3:41:


(with apologies to The Boss) "I'm 35, we got a boy two girls of our own now".

It is one of those lyrics that Springsteen has a habit of penning that in context just nails a theme dead on. I was about 8 the first time I heard this song, and at 35, can identify with it's protagonist more than ever, not in terms of the economic disarray the song relates (thankfully), but in the introspective looking back sense, seeing what is new and what has changed, and sometimes wondering just where the time has gone, which in turn reminds me of this:


35 feels like a milestone year. Halfway between 20 and 50, and halfway to seventy (crikey!). I have seen a few constants, but a lot of change, and try not to take things for granted. My favourite era of music and movies that I most identify with happened half my lifetime ago. I firmly believe in the cliche that one is only as old as one feels, but somedays I feel younger than others :).

I have a few grey hairs now, but also have an amazing wife, two beautiful and equally amazing daughters, and family and friends I am privileged and grateful to have in my life. They have provided me memories and experiences to treasure (and on the odd occasion a few to forget to be fair :) ), and hopefully will provide many more. So unlike Bruce's everyman above, at 35 I can look around and say, you know what things are pretty good right now. Happy Birthday to me!

High Score

Listening to: Big Boi and Dre Present Outkast - Outkast (2001).

One of our players failed to show at our indoor netball game tonight, so we had to take the court a person down and play the game 5 vs 6. After a few minutes of shambles as we looked despairingly off court for our missing person, and adjusted to having one less pair of hands to move the ball, we settled down and tried to play a little harder and smarter than our opposition.
Sometimes (the minority of the time in fact) playing one down can be easier. There are tactics and techniques that can be used to make up for the absence, and teams with inferior nous can get their patterns upset by having one less person to defend. At any rate, whatever we did worked and we wound up winning though, 30 -27.
That's kinda cool (having been beaten on occasion by teams that did the 5 player thing so well I didn't even notice they only had five), but I was too busy shooting the longer range 2-points shots from the edge of the circle to notice that I scored all of those 30 points. We figured out after the game that I was the only one in our team to land any shots (apart from a couple of singles that were disallowed).

So that's cool, I've never done that before, and it is probably a personal best score for me. My game stats were at best 70-80% of shots landed vs those attempted, but it was one of those games where I got a nice groove going with the shooting early on, got the confidence up and just kept on going (not having any defenders able to trouble the shots helped). Having been in a general shooting slump recently I like it when that happens.

5 year (plus a month or so) Blogiversay

Passing almost unnoticed last month was the 5th anniversary of me starting this blog. Not entirely unnoticed to be fair: I noticed, but didn't get around to blogging about it for it's own sake until now.

I never had any longevity expectations starting this thing and still don't. It will be active as long as I'm interested. And while my little part of the blogosphere isn't quite the same as it was five years ago, it is still interesting enough and fun enough to participate in. I've seen a few bloggers come and go, and discovered for myself more than a few bloggers that keep me interested, from here, there, and everywhere.

So yeah, I still enjoy the process. Thanks for reading, and giving me stuff to post about.

One week old already

Soph and Fi came home on Tuesday, after only a couple of days in the ward. She is a week old as of today, and gets a little more alert each day, even if she still sleeps most of the time.


Sophie so far is perfectly normal and healthy and providing us with a few novel experiences, in that her sister was three weeks old when she came home, so in some ways Sophie is giving us insight into what regular first time parents deal with, things we never had to deal with before.

In addition Fi and I both have a slight sense of waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to go wrong (realising in hindsight that our previous experience might just have affected us a little more than we thought). That said though we feel fortunate just to have them both and Charlotte has been a very good big sister so far :) Others we know and have seen aren't as lucky.

The WALL-E Effect

So in late September 2008, we went to an early evening screening of "WALL-E". Later that night our first daughter Charlotte was born.

Move forward to early May 2011, and Charlotte's sibling was becoming increasingly overdue. Having tried all the usual old wive's tales, on a whim we watched "WALL-E" again.

The next day (yesterday), our second daughter Sophie was born.
Welcome to your world new daughter of mine :)
In relieved contrast to her sister's arrival, Sophie is happy, healthy and awesome. As are her mother and sister. Although I am wondering if the labelling on "WALL-E" DVD's might need amending for viewers in a delicate condition...

Zeroes and Magnificent Lightning

Listening to: Foo Fighters - Wasting Light (2011).

Apparently this blog needs to be a bit more manly. So in an effort to up the manly-ness, here is a picture of Manly Beach, Sydney for y'all.
Bebe still not here yet. Will be a week overdue by this time tomorrow. Have now been in "anytime now" quick-reaction mode for long enough that any nervousness will be overshadowed by "Finally!" when things start happening. Fi is naturally a bit over it. Charlotte is ever more aware that something is up, but still hasn't figured out she will shortly be sharing her world.

In the meantime I have been getting some modelling done. To get back into the groove, I'm revisiting a couple of kits from my childhood, the little known (if web presence is anything to go by) small scale Hasegawa Shinden ('Magnificent Lightning') and Zero (erm, 'Zero'). These were part of a range of small snap-together kits Hasegawa produced in the early 80's (at least, I have no idea when they were originally created), aimed at the young beginner market. They were cheap (hence the 'buy by coin' logo on the box) and didn't need any glue to be assembled.

I got one of each back in 1984 or so, and they were assembled and re-fighting the Pacific War in no time. In this hobby revisiting models you built as a kid can be fun, so on a whim a while ago I found some online from a secondhand retailer in the UK, at a cost of slightly more than 75p.
As can be seen by the parts layout, they are somewhat more basic than what I usually build these days, although nicely moulded for what they are (kits intended to be built in the space of an afternoon or less). The Zero is 1/100 scale which is reasonably common standard scale, but the Shinden is an oddball at the uncommon 1/106. Wierd scales like this are often known as 'Box Scale', in that the size of the model was determined by the size of the box it was going to be sold in.
The original Zero I built in the 80's is still mostly intact, complete with inappropriate French Air Force roundels that were applied in the mid 80's after the original Japanese decals had worn off, and experimental camouflage prompted by trying to hide where the brush slipped when I was painting the undersides and got grey on the top instead of the bottom.
It is interesting from a modeller's viewpoint comparing two examples of the same kit from slightly different production runs. I have no idea of the relative ages of the two (other than 'old') but there are definite differences, even though they are in theory identical. The newer one had sink marks in spots where the plastic hadn't filled out the mould properly, while the original one has a warped wing (and always has).

The original Shinden on the other hand has aged so well. It survived into the late 80's at least reasonably intact, but theses are the only parts a recent search turned up.
I might re-use the spinner that covers the propeller hub on the new Shinden (actually it is the only piece intact enough to be able to re-use), to incorporate some old with the new.

Now being that I am not 7 anymore, and not going from in the box to flying around the room in an hour or so, I thought it only proper that I build these retreads properly.

Given the cockpit and pilot in both models was represented only by a ball of plastic in a stick, and almost any change would be an improvement, I cut open both cockpits and built my own out of plastic sheet and rod. They are best described as 'representative' rather than accurate, but still better than not doing anything.
I'm guessing there are thousands of these things that have been built, but I'm betting not many with this amount of effort.

Did I mention how small these models are? If you embiggen the image you can see the seat belts I made up from tape. I have no idea how visible they will be on the finished item.
Since these two are taking approximately a thousand times longer to build than their predecessors, having been carefully glued, filled and sanded, they are only now getting painted.

Only two real Shindens were ever built, and never actually got into service, so the Shinden paint is fairly neat and tidy and straightforward and not needing to be weathered. Zeroes on the other hand were ubiquitous, and in common with other Japanese aircraft notorious for shedding paint in the late war period this model depicts. So to try and simulate that it has been undercoated with aluminum paint topped under the camouflage green, the idea being when the topcoat is done you can remove bits of it to look like chipping.
I still haven't quite figured out how that is going to work out on something this small, or which way to do it is best. Watch this space.

No fixed topic

Word from the midwife is that we could potentially be en bebe by the weekend if the braxton hicks are anything to go by. Any time now, so excited but slightly tense. We don't know what flavour it will be, but I will be happy with healthy and happy. In the meantime here are two of my favourite singers singing appropriately.



Eddie Vedder could probably sing the phone book and make it sound good. The acoustic version he does of another Tom Petty classic during one of Pearl Jam's Gorge concerts is pretty cool too:


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Interesting to note the from a couple of news items recently that the long running saga of the Skyhawk disposal is now finally coming to an end. Working on a slightly more in depth post on that.

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Kind of related the big airshow of the season is on this weekend. Not going since I have slightly more important potential things to be at home for. Watching the chatter build on the forums is almost painful :)

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Conversation from Saturday night as we caught an Avatar parody on Comedy Central just as we were leaving Kirsten's house:
Fi: "It's Star Wars!"
Me: "It's Avatar."
Charlotte, looking out the open door at the weather: "It's raining!"

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Enjoying the increase in pub quizzing lately courtesy of Janine. I miss it as a regular gig.

Now back to the waiting...

Record Store Day

Listening to: See Below
So I was kind of planning an interesting night out tonight, starting with a bit of Roller Derby, then moving on to Cirque de Medusa (in the process finally getting to see a friend of mine sing, something I have been meaning to do for months now), but the migraine I had yesterday and still affecting me today put paid to that.

I figure migraines are like a very condensed night long party in your head. Except it is the kind of party you don't get to enjoy, like when it is at the neighbours place, there are too many bright lights shining in your window, the music is too loud (and playing only songs you hate), people are vomiting over the fence and leaving junk and debris on your lawn, you are thinking of calling the cops and you weren't invited anyway. Anyway the fuzziness and nausea that was yesterday afternoon left me with a bruised and battered brain today, remarkably similar to a hangover, but without the preceding fun. Thus low key activities were in order today, including marking Record Store Day by going to a couple of my favourite aural haunts. Including one unfortunately in the process of closing down (possibly but not definitely to re-open in a new incarnation). Despite occasional (and sometimes almost cliche typical independent record store style) flaws, Real Groovy has been one of my favourite places to kill time and add to my collection for the last decade or so. Most of my mumble600mumble odd CD's are from there, at a cost may times less than what I would have paid for them in a chain store. I am sad to see it go. There used to be four of them nationwide (ironically a chain I know), but the chain fell over a few years ago and the stores went independent. The Dunedin one closed at the time of the original collapse, the earthquake literally destroyed the Christchurch one, and with this one going it will be back where it started with a single store in Auckland Charlotte was my partner in hunting and gathering, and I took a picture so when she is older and asks "Dad what were record stores and what where they like?" I can show her in one, with a caveat that two and a half year olds were not commonly seen there, even though she has been to this one several times.

I think the facepainting at the bar across the road that was also marking the day was more of a highlight for her than the time honoured ritual of flicking through album covers and saying "hmmmm" occasionally.

Today's visit saw me picking up an album by Over the Atlantic, and an old Pearl Jam single I didn't have.

Moving down Cuba Street to Slowboat Records looking for another couple of items on the eternal and ever changing hitlist, I picked up an EP by City oh Sigh, solely because they were playing live in store for Record Store Day and I liked what I heard, having never encountered them before. It was exactly the sort of thing that I like record stores for. I am a very late adopter when it comes to online music. Physical music stores may be in a perhaps ultimately futile evolve-or-perish phase right now, but if they disappear completely (independent ones especially), the music consumer experience will be more than a little less fun.

Any Day Now....

Not long to go before the second bebe is due to arrive at our place. Officially it isn't due for another three weeks or so, but Charlotte was two weeks early, and I am now at the stage where every unexpected phone or text is a potential call to action. Which is good in a way. This pregnancy thing is getting old, and I am not even the one who is pregnant. Anticipation is all good, but there comes a point where you just want to get on with it.

The Fanboys vs George Lucas.

Jean-Luc didn't like the opening scenes of 'The Phantom Menace' either...

The at times wonderful, at times strange, and at times completely dysfunctional relationship between the legacy of Star Wars, it's fans, and it's creator was one of the main themes of a documentary I saw on the weekend, "The People vs George Lucas":

It was fun. The documentary is squarely aimed at fans rather than casual viewers not quite as intimately knowledgeable of the franchise, and uses the fan relationship to examine in a wider sense just what Star Wars is now, and how many fans feel miffed about what happened to their favourite franchise and George Lucas himself (although in the documentary he only appears in clips from archival interviews, contributing to a noticeable lack of input or commentary from anyone involved in the current Lucasfilm hierarchy).

For many if not most fans the six film Star Wars saga can generally be seen one of two ways; as a complete epic work, or as two quite different trilogies, separate in time, space and vision. There is the 'original' (although just what constitutes 'original', and how it has seemingly been redefined is another key theme of the doco) 1976-1983 trilogy, and then there is, umm, the other one, of pre-sequels that some love, some hate, and many love to hate.

My interaction as a Star Wars fan centres around the classic first three movies that have been influencing pop culture ever since they were released three decades ago. I am aware of the other stuff in the canon, read a few of the novels, know a lot of the lore, but haven't really kept up with the non-movie based stuff that is out there.

I feel a bit privileged to be a part of the generation that saw the original originals on that first cinematic release. I was born in 1976, so missed the first one, but definitely saw 'The Empire Strikes Back' in 1980 or so, and remember seeing 'Return of the Jedi' twice in 1983 (at the St James when it was a cinema, and at a long defunct cinema in Naenae). I was perfectly placed to catch what was left of the merchandising wave as it ebbed into the mid 80's, and perfectly placed again to participate in the mid 90's revival of interest in the franchise, now armed with some spending power to grab some of the things I would have lusted after but couldn't have a decade before. Like T-shirts for one...

Like a lot of others, the universe realised on screen wasn't one I merely wanted to watch, it was one I wanted to live in. I particularly wanted a speederbike I could ride to school. I also perfected the art of lightsabreing Agapanthis stalks with a bamboo stick, to my mum's horror. I instantly, and forevermore preferred it to the Star Trek alternative in its various incarnations, which always looked just a little too clean and perfect. Star Wars on the other hand looked like it was filmed on location in a grungy, scruffy, lived in and imperfect series of worlds and vehicles.

When the films were re-released in the intended-at-the-time-to-be definitive Special Editions I was so happy to see them on the big screen again I overlooked the worst of the tinkerings, and enjoyed the best. It was a good time to be a fan.

The pre LOTR makeover Embassy, Wellington 1997

As time passed though, a few of the 'improvements' quickly became a bit less appreciated, and a few became downright cringeworthy. In this imperfect atmosphere the new films were eagerly awaited (I remember downloading the 'Phantom Menace' trailer on a painfully slow, overloaded dial-up connection, and being very excited to finally see it after an hour or so of hoping the connection didn't crash), with the fervent hope and expectation that they be great, only to be slightly underwhelmed when they arrived.

In hindsight living up to their predecessors was an impossible task, but the prequels wound up feeling a bit adequate and a bit perfunctory, not terrible but missing the opportunity to be awesome (and with not that many tweaks, they could have been awesome). Some great moments and scenes, great technical achievements, some great action sequences (and for all his charges, I think he is still a great and under-rated action director), but little heart, thrill, or immersion, terrible dialogue, canon-derailing plot devices, character and plot miscues, good actors looking like amateurs, and overall feeling only special because they were Star Wars movies. A lot of people were left wondering where it all went wrong. And to an extent I think, missing the point.

Putting aside the arguments over creative direction, actual direction-direction of the new films and the continued tinkering with, and mysterious unavailability on a licenced modern format of the first-release cuts of the original films (and on the case presented I am inclined to think Lucas is probably guilty of the various things the documentary makers charge here), we fell in love with the originals as children. Relating to the re-imagined original trilogy, and the new films in the same way was always going to be impossible as adults. And here's the thing; if I was seven years old again, I would probably love the prequels just as much as I do their older siblings, which aren't without their flaws either if I am honest.

Lucas says the prequels were aimed at kids, and thus a new generation of fans (and/or merchandising opportunities if you are cynical), and while some could see this as a backpedalling cop-out, the appeal of the newer films to a younger audience is undeniable. I hate Jar-Jar Binks as much as any other fan, and I cringe these days whenever the similarly roled Ewoks from 'Return of the Jedi' are on screen. In 1983 though, I loved the Ewoks. Somewhat tragically/fortunately though I never got around to seeing 'Caravan of Courage' (as an aside the Ewok battle in ROTJ reminds me of just how casually ultraviolent-in-a-sanitised-way the Star Wars universe really is, a theme continued in the non-movie canon and lore as well). I wonder if in ten or twenty years time the prequels will be critically reassessed and held in slightly higher regard than they are now. I haven't tried it, but according to some they apparently they work better if watched in an epic Ep I through VI back to back session.

I can see the point of view of some that the revisions and additions have despoiled their relationship with the movies (including the absurd and slightly offensive 'George Lucas raped my childhood' song seen in the trailer), but can't agree with it for myself. Whatever the films represent now doesn't affect my memories of letting my enthralled imagination run wild with George Lucas' ideas in the slightest, which one interviewee in the movie rightly points out. The fun I had then, and still have with it is untouchable.

This ramble has turned out to be more about my relationship with the movies than the documentary, but that just goes to show that even after all that has gone on, there is still some magic to be had. The documentary while not without it's own flaws, works well at reminding the viewer of this, and in my mind while ostensibly hostile to Lucas, goes a long way towards at least illustrating his position if not partially exonerating him (even if perhaps unintentionally). That it even exists is a reminder of just how powerful, influential and inspirational cinema, and this franchise in particular can be. There might be a lot of rabid passion and hatred from the fans out there, but it is rooted in a kind of love.

And for the record, Han will always shoot first.

PS: Fi, Kate and Rich saw the documentary with me, and the latter has composed a much more considered and insightful review post than mine here.