I sms'd a mate last night with a wee poem I'd just read:
I believe in myself slowly
It takes all the doubt I have
It takes my wonder
With his kind permission, here's his interaction with the poem in the small hours of Tuesday morning:
The loneliness in me is hard to hide, it’s my humanity. I’m lonely when I realise there’s more to life than my own small minded desires and needs; beyond the bounds of my existence there is a vastness my life can never fill or exceed, encompass or capture. We gain nothing real as we pretend to be complete in ourselves. To be a hero and disown our most human aches is a facile denial. Far harder to accept the frailty of time passing like water through grasping hands. Greatness is found by learning not to lie to ourselves. A bravery that doesn’t feel or recognise the anguish of loss can’t honestly be called courage. There’s nothing profound about certain or unshakeable faith; The conviction of our faith is found as we’re rocked to the core of our certainty, buffeted and tried by the vast unknown storms as we struggle to hear the voice of the wind. I am here awaiting. This is hope and it’s a lonely intimacy; I can’t share a map of my heart with you at midnight. This is hope and it’s borne out of my loss. This is hope, that there’s something other than myself.
Loneliness is our reminder of company and a promise that companionship has meaning. If I feel an overwhelming solitude, it’s only because I can remember a time I wasn’t alone. I can’t truly regret something I haven’t experienced. We live in deferral, waiting to be reunited. Held in our humanly discrete moments, we’re hoping to understand the continuum bridging the gaps between us. Loneliness itself is part of the continuum: a reminder, a memory and a longing for all the prodigal moments to return. Loneliness is the emptiness of a heart that’s given blood and waits for time and effort to pump it back around.
Loneliness isn’t the end. Why do we stay alone like we’ve been backed into a corner when our solitude reminds us, is beckoning us to remember all the discrete, abandoned moments we’ve left behind in our search for newer, more thrilling relationships? We’ve been contented with spun concoctions and fragile crystalline ephemera, insubstantial gossamer rewards that can’t sustain our weight instead of the ties that should bind us together. There is no reason for surviving in this moment unless we help each other survive it together.
Let me not be swayed by the convictions of this modern life, that the organic and holistic nature of feeling is insufficient and requires an upgrade. In the absence of anguish we become content with imitation plastic and pacemakers, where once we had a living heart of most human flesh. Let the bad always help me recognise my responsibility to return what is good in my life.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Occasional Ensemblee Series:
We're all alone.
Funeral Faux Pas
I went to a funeral this week to say goodbye to a family friend. He left behind five daughters and as I stood next to one after the burial, I was a witness to a number of interruptions by various people—some of whom were close to her, some she’d never seen before. Now I’m the queen of foot-in-mouth action but over the course of the afternoon, I managed to calmly observe that the comments of many well-wishers were completely inappropriate.
Things NOT to say/do at a funeral based on this experience:
• Ask how they’re feeling. (Okay, I said this too—it depends on the tone)
• “You seem to be holding up well.”
• Question: Did your mum tell you girls how to behave today because you’ve been great?
Answer: No.
• “Your dad would have loved this funeral.” (What the…)
• Squeeze person’s hand and look wistfully into their eyes.
• Laugh excessively then turn around, catch person’s eye and suddenly look really sad.
• Comment on how good the sandwiches are.
• Discuss your observance that the grief sometimes only hits a person later.
Here’s some free advice for anyone attending a funeral:
• Don’t say much
• Avoid clichés
• Keep your pop psychology to yourself
• Don’t try and say anything to make someone feel better on the day of their dad’s funeral—they’re just not going to.
• Share your memories about the person who’s died for a future time and place.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Top 5: Australian Citizenship Questions
The federal government unveiled their likely guidelines for Australian citizenship yesterday.
Among the guidelines are 20 rudimentary questions (that will be asked randomly from a pool of 200 questions) that are likely to be asked were:
1. In what year did Federation take place?
2. Which day of the year is Australia Day?
3. Who was the first Prime Minister of Australia?
4. What is the first line of Australia's national anthem?
5. What is the floral emblem of Australia?
6. What is the population of Australia? (approx 21 million)
7. In what city is the Parliament House of the Commonwealth Parliament located?
8. Who is the Queen's representative in Australia?
9. How are Members of Parliament chosen?
10. Who do Members of Parliament represent?
11. After a federal election, who forms the new government?
12. What are the colours on the Australian flag?
13. Who is the head of the Australian Government?
14. What are the three levels of government in Australia?
15. In what year did the European settlement of Australia start?
16. Serving on a jury if required is a responsibility of Australian citizenship: true or false?
17. In Australia, everyone is free to practise the religion of their choice, or practise no religion: true of false?
18. To be elected to the Commonwealth Parliament you must be an Australian citizen: true or false?
19. As an Australian citizen, I have the right to register my baby born overseas as an Australian citizen: true or false?
20. Australian citizens aged 18 years or over are required to enrol on the electoral register: true or false?
I was thinking that we could probably add a few random questions of our own. Perhaps if we generate enough Top 5's amongst us, we'd have our own random 200.
Anyway, here's an initial 5 to get the ball rolling:
1. What was Don Bradman's Test batting average?
2. In Cold Chisel's 'Khe Sahn', how many quiet hours does it take to get to Hong Kong?
3. What is the average meat content of an Australian meat pie?
4. What name did Toyota give to their first crack at the 6 cylinder market?
5. When the first name of your town is Wagga, why do you have to say it twice?
Step up.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Raspy Bob gets his inflection and gathers no moss.
I saw Dylan live on Thursday night at the Burswood Dome.
Now, before I get going, there's a couple of things you need to face up to before you make your entry into a Dylan concert.
First, you're seeing one of the living legends and great poets of our time doing his thing. And, second: Bob's thing is Bob's thing.
There's a few more things you should know about a Dylan concert. Unless you make some serendipitous stumble of the highest order, you're probably going to be seeing him in a venue way larger than ideal. This was certainly true of the Burswood Dome (as it was when I saw him in 2002 at the Perth Entertainment Centre).
The next thing you need to understand is that you're not going to see a display of breathtaking pyrotechnics and laser lights. Nor will you see electrifying dance moves (although that seemingly rubber left leg can be kind of cute). Indeed, a slick stage is unlikely too—it's not often you see gear on stage at a big show these days, but you could spot Vox amplifiers from a mile off.
You're not coming to see some backing dancers in tight clothes gyrating behind the front man as he 'gets the audience jumpin', jumpin' either. And I realised some way in to the show that being able to do laid back from a position of absolute authenticity is way different to the disinterested charade paraded by some of the generations of artists that have followed in Bob's footsteps.
You shouldn't expect to develop a personal relationship with Bob either. Back in 2002, the extent of his conversing with the audience was a simple 'hello' (or complex? it was hard to tell by the intonation) after about the 10th song. During the day at work, we'd taken punts on the likely word count for Bob. One punter suggested an outrageous 23 words. I was optimistically rooting for 8.
And—final disclaimer—you're not coming to hear dulcet and supple vocal techniques paraded for your aural satisfaction.
But, let's face it, you signed up to see a Bob Dylan concert...you never expected to see or hear any of that stuff.
So, with that out the way, on to the concert.
As Brad, Sherri and I walked across the park from where I work in Burswood to join the others we were Dylan-ing with, I commented that this would be a lousy concert to lay down the ultimatum that 'he better do such-and-such-a-song'. Let's just say the back catalogue is extensive.
We had tidy seats. Silver seats apparently. Beige buckets seats in reality, but well-positioned. I'm pretty sure that someone had lit up incense near our seats. Part of the territory I guess. It was a gentle reminder of Bob's roots and longevity.
He was announced in a similar way to a heavy-weight boxer making his entry into the ring to defend his title. The pre-recorded announcer skimmed Bob's life with intro something like 'Welcome to the stage a poet laureate of the ages. A man who defined the folk era of the 60s, who lost the 70s through substance abuse, who found Jesus in the 80s and reinvented himself in the 90s...'. There he was: 66-year old Raspy Bob inflecting away with a sensational ensemble of players who could well and truly cut it.
And we were off.
Bob and his band carved there way through a swag of songs with only enough time in between to remind themselves what was coming next. You get the feeling with Bob that the words and music are loosely connected at best. Depending on your take, Bob is either a sublime phraser of vocal lines...or he has scant regard for phrasing altogether. I'm not sure which.
It's a little tricky reeling off the set list for Bob. He can play a song that you heard for the first time when you were 10 years old (and many times since) yet you can be half way through the tune before you recognise it. I'm not sure whether every night is different, but there's a fresh interpretation both musically and vocally to so many tunes that you can find yourself mesmerised by the artistic convolution.
What I can tell you is that he and his band effortlessly sauntered through Tangled up in Blue, Lay, Lady, Lay; Don't Think Twice, Highway 61, A Hard Rain's A-Gonna fall, It Ain't Me, Babe. And I can tell you that one of the two encore songs was Like a Rolling Stone.
For the most part though, I found myself sitting there knowing that I was watching an artist who'd had a profound impact on the landscape of music for over 40 years. And that Bob had not only wandered through the wilderness in that time, but seen glimpses of the promised land. Occasionally I asked myself the question; 'why does someone come along to a Bob Dylan concert?'. Sure, the songs have stood the test of time and and the rich texture of his work has not wavered in decades (meandered, sure...but still remained textural!). I think the answer lies in the fact that people recognise greatness above hyperbole.
For the record Bob said three words on Thursday night (if we exclude his introduction of the players of the band). During the encore I was joking with Alsie (Brad's uncle) about the word count betting ring we had going at work. He told me that there were reports that in an earlier concert in the tour he had fixed on 'Thank you friends'. That's what we got—a three word count. It was plenty.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Wrangers let their hair down
From the wires...
REDHEADS are becoming rarer and could be extinct in 100 years, according to genetic scientists.
The current National Geographic magazine reports that less than two per cent of the world's population has natural red hair, created by a mutation in northern Europe thousands of years ago.
Global intermingling, which broadens the availability of possible partners, has reduced the chances of redheads meeting and producing little redheads of their own.
It takes only one red-haired parent to produce ginger-headed babies, but two redheads obviously create a much stronger possibility.
If the gingers really want to save themselves they should move to Scotland.
An estimated 40 per cent of Scots carry the red gene and 13 per cent actually have red hair.
Some experts say that redheads could be gone as early as 2060, but others say the gene can be dormant for generations before returning.
National Geographic says the gene at first had the beneficial effect of increasing the body's ability to make vitamin D from sunlight.
However, today's carriers are more prone to skin cancer and have a higher sensitivity to heat and cold-related pain.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Work. Rest. Play.
Part Two: Rest
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.
In Part One we were all about work. In Part Two we're talking about a Sabbath and a rest. Without wishing to warble the theology of the Old Testament, I'm wondering whether the two are very different things. Perhaps it's possible to enjoy them both on the same day, but it's worth figuring out the distinction as we go along.
Pretty much any biblical reference to the Sabbath that I mention here will be well known. And that's a pretty good place to start. We all know the premise that God was laying down within the story of His creation. So often though, the premise and praxis find trouble connecting. God hasn't had a break since so His rest was more likely a not-so-subtle nod and a wink in our direction rather the result of him being all tuckered out.
So, let's kick off with the Sabbath. It's always a good way to start or end a week (depending on how you've decided it makes the most sense or what church you've grown up in).The Israelites are to observe the Sabbath, celebrating it for the generations to come as a lasting covenant. It will be a sign between me and the Israelites forever, for in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, and on the seventh day he abstained from work and rested.
Informed by a healthy Protestant work ethic (or unhealthy - depends on your worldview), I'd always figured that observing a Sabbath infered that you're working the other six days. That's not an unreasonable assumption, nor an unreasonable practice. Yet I read verses like Exodus 35:31 (It is a sabbath of rest, and you must deny yourselves; it is a lasting ordinance), and my opinion starts to waver.Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy.
Our Sabbath is for God. It's not for our indulgence. It may be a day for serving Him in different ways (worship, hospitality, administration, justice, mercy...the list is long) or it may be a time for resting from those things (if they're what's work for us) so that we can keep a day holy. And what does keeping a day holy mean? It means a day dedicated and consecrated to Him. A day of rest probably isn't frenetic or ridden with anxiety—a day centred on God is unlikely to yield those outcomes.
While we're at it, is it good enough to say that we can rest and Sabbath on the same day, or are we indulging ourselves on God's clock? Without getting legalistic yet staying biblically faithful, what does a great sabbath look like? Even as I tap away I'm reminded of the Essenes, a bunch of hard core blokes before Jesus time, who believed that if Israel could just muster one perfect Sabbath, it would trigger the coming of the Messiah. Must have been a bummer when someone stuffed up...
The perfect Sabbath doesn't come from our legalism, the perfect Sabbath rest comes when we submit our all to the Lord, accepting joyfully his promised guidance through a “narrow way” to the Kingdom. It's when we rest from our own works, from all effort to justify ourselves. We confess ourselves to be imperfect and unworthy of Divine grace, and unable to make ourselves worthy. And we gratefully accept Divine mercy extended toward us in our redemption through Jesus.
So, if our Sabbath is a time for denying ourselves and seeking God, when does the rest come? Sure, we find our rest in God but, in the context of work, rest and play, where does the rest fit in.
Fortunately, we're not left with a Torah alone to navigate through our weeks. Jesus came to fulfill the law. And what does he say about the Sabbath? Far a start He declares himself Lord of the Sabbath. Then he puts the Sabbath in perspective by saying: "The Sabbath was made to serve us; we weren't made to serve the Sabbath. The Son of Man is no lackey to the Sabbath. He's in charge!" (I'm not completely sure he said 'lackey'—I think that's Eugene's work.) You can tell me what you make of Jesus' words, but what I get out of it is that the practice of a Sabbath was designed to bring us back to God; a trigger for re-consecrating ourselves. The Sabbath is the period in the paragraph. It resets the meter of things.
So often, we deviate by degrees. We don't so much go awol and take out the guy who won't give us breakfast, more often we just veer a little, then a little more, to the left or right of true north. I think the Sabbath is intended to recalibrate our souls so that again we respond to our God. Maybe we haven't drifted at all. Maybe we're ready to raise the rafters with our God-songs and God-deeds, but maybe we need to raise our heads and bow our heads to discover His greatness and glory covering our brokenness. I think this is what Jesus meant when he said 'the sabbath was made for man'. I think this is what the Sabbath's all about.
And where does rest fit in?
Some of the activities and practices that become part of a well-intentioned Sabbath can make us blimmin' tired. They tire me sometimes. So, where does the rest fit in? If our Sabbaths are intended to be days of self-denial, when do we recover? While we work? On the job? Or is there room for rest somewhere or somehow else?
And what is rest to you? Because my guess it's different for each of us. My first thought when I hear the word 'rest' is a good sleep, but in the context of recalibration and rejuvenation it's quite different. A restful weekend for me (the best place to get me some rest) would probably contain a decent run, some writing, breakfast at a café, a bit of reading, some cricket or AFL viewing while lying on the floor, and some cooking. If I put my head on the pillow on a Sunday having worked some or all of these around some Sabbath action, I'd be well-rested.
That needn't be you. I think my brother-in-law would stick pretty rigidly to 'a good sleep' as a definition for rest. And his not wrong. Some people would find a few hours of shopping restful. Yeah, that's not me. The big deal about resting well is figuring out what you classify as 'activities of rest' and practicing them.
I know some excellent 'resters' (see the above paragraph for an example). I don't mean that they're lazy. They work hard in their jobs, they offer themselves freely outside of their working lives, but they know how to rest and when to rest. Either they've figured out or wrestled with the biblical principle of the Sabbath and grown in the discipline of rest, or they're naturally predisposed.
Both a Sabbath and a scheduled time of rest require discipline. It often requires discipline to do things that ultimately or immediately restore us. I don't think that's contradictory, it's just life. Sometimes we're so lazy we don't even do the things that give us rest. Weird, but true.
Work requires rest. And rest assumes that we go back to work. And somewhere in there we've got to play a bit as well. So as not to get all dull and stuff.
Until we play, rest up!
Thursday, August 16, 2007
I feel the earth move....
Well, actually, up here in the Andes I didn't feel a thing, but plenty of people in Lima and southern Peru did, so much so that 337 are dead and nearly 1000 are injured.
I was on the phone to Simone when it happened. She was in Starbucks (yes we can forgive her) and she said to me "I'm now standing in the carpark, cars are rocking, we are having trouble standing up, buildings are swaying, everyone is panicking".
Thank the Lord, we are fine, our friends are fine, and there is no evident damage to any property where we live. However, the small town of Pisco in southern Peru, where we went for a holiday after Christmas, is all but levelled. The quake was a 7.9 at the epicentre, a 7.7 at the southern coast, and a 7.5 in Lima. I could put a bunch of links about it, but you all know how to use Google I'm sure.
Please pray for this country. Peru has a long way to go in its development. The areas hardest hit are simple villages based on agriculture and fishing. Villages in the Andes were hit too and the winters are bitterly cold, so much so that people have been dying because they don't have enough clothes for the winter. Many people will have lost everything they have, and insurance is non-existent, let alone affordable for people who cant afford clothes.
We are hooked up with a great church here, and I can bet that this Sunday the church will be sending donations and aid to help out. Let us know if you're interested and we'll find a way to get your money in the right spot. Sorry for the nature of this post, but some things in this world can't be intellectualised. Often times finding the symphony in the noise is as simple as being the proverbial hands and feet. After all, we are all a global community, right?
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Church goer tips God for excellent week
This from my favorite satirical online newspaper - the onion. But sometimes it's all too true.
CHARLESTON, SC—Churchgoer Brad Thaden, 48, reportedly tipped God a little something extra Sunday, claiming that the Almighty had done a better job than usual that week, especially with the weather and his children's behavior.
"Hey Big Guy, here's a five-spot for ya," Thaden silently prayed while placing the bill in the church collection plate. "If you keep it up, and make sure Mom doesn't have one of her spells at dinner on Wednesday, there's more where that came from."
According to God, five dollars is "basically nothing" after He tips out the the priest, the pope, the altar boys, and the Holy Spirit.
The Occasional Ensemblee Series:
Mikey B gets his jury on.
I got home yesterday and checked the mail. Wow, how exciting! What a dynamic fun-filled life I live. You're right, I don't. I have a toddler and a 6 month old, getting the mail is my equivalent of a single person going to da club and picking up.
Anyway, the pity party is over. In the mail was a summons for jury duty. Yep, the opportunity for me to do my civic and national duty has arrived. So why do I have the urge to join about 95% of Australians and want to apply for an excusement of attendance? Surely I should want to do my bit for the country and the principles upon which it stands? Surely there are things that are more important than my desires? Maybe Dennis Denuto was right in The Castle? Maybe it is about the constitution? Maybe I just want the swine found guilty by default? Maybe I can't be stuffed waiting around a court house with a bunch of ferals in case some lawyer in a funny wig wants me to sit there with 11 other poor souls and listen to evidence that demands a verdict (thanks Josh McDowell). HELP ME!
It's even worse for me as I wasn't born here. I actually wanted citizenship and national identity of this mighty fine nation called Australia. I actually signed up for this. Most of you lot were Aussies at birth so you didn't know any better. I knew this was a possibility. It was part of the questions they asked me.
I have been summoned before but had a genuine reason to get out of it but this time I kind of could get out of it but probably it's not a genuine hardship to do jury duty. Surely it's truly Australian to want to opt out, to weasel out of this? Wouldn't any true blue Aussie do the same?
Am I being stupid? Are you with me? What would you do? Hey, what would Jesus do (hehehehe)? Help, advice required, interaction needed!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Rove McManus resigns as
Chief Strategist for Bush
I just thought Kim Beazley should know.
It seems Bush is finding it hard to hold on to the funny guys these days.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Work. Rest. Play.
Part One: Work
A couple of stories I read and heard a couple of weeks back got me thinking about the logical rhythm of life we were created to live as opposed to the contrived, distorted and perhaps more artificial version to which we've adapted in our third millennium convalescence.
The first story I heard was about the prevalence of diabetes due to poor diet. Effectively, obesity-induced bad health.
The second was the effective treatment of severe depression amongst middle-aged men.
And the third was the treatment of the most appropriate treatment for women enduring the effects of menopause in their middle-age.
Each of these stories were utterly independent of each other yet, perhaps predictably to some, the treatment for the relief, reduction, or apprehension of these conditions was the same: exercise. In fact, in the case of the depressed cohort, exercise outperformed the most effective drug by quite a margin.
It got me thinking about the nature of our lifestyle in 2007 versus God's original intention for us. Before I wind back the clock and get all agrarian on you, I just want to talk about pattern and rhythm. Largely because what we've done, through great, convenient, time-saving, life-giving advancements, is create an environment that allows us to ignore the work, rest, play rhythms of life.
Where do I start?
Let's start with this: work is good. A hard day's work is good. And a hard day's labour is great. God followed a 6 day on, 1 day off pattern and it worked pretty well for him. The creation story tells of no plant having sprung up in the field because man wasn't yet available to work the soil. The concept of work is pre-fall. That's to say: it's consistent with a humanity fully restored to its creator. Genesis 2 reads: The LORD God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it.
This is one of the 538 references to work in the NIV. Admittedly not all of them are in the context of work that I'm talking here, but you can bet that a whole bunch of them are.
When a gaggle of slackers in the church at Thessalonica (I can't come up with a better collective noun for slackers than gaggle on the fly) decide that Jesus is coming soon so they best give up their day jobs and wait for the rapture, Paul rains on their tedious parade and says: "If a man will not work, he shall not eat." Paul was a bit of a worker too.
Solomon was also partial to a little work. He has the Proverbs 31 woman pretty much running the universe on her own and throws out a stern rebuke or warning to the idle in Proverbs 6 with this little gem: A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.
I don't really need advocates for the idea of work though, I just need a little more justification for the benefits. This is where it will get a little tough to keep the 3 parts of the Mars Bar separate. And that's appropriate, because from get-go God has been all about integration. The idea that work, rest and play should be connected and overlap is a little obvious. For the sake of a three-part strategy though, let's try and contain this post to work.
While I'm no medical practitioner (not even a closet one) I reckon the reason behind exercise being a solutions to a multitude of maladies has a whole lot to do with endorphins. Endorphins are a by-product of hard labour. And they make you feel good. They have an analgaesic effect Prolonged physical exercise will do it for you although a bunch of scientists have hypothesised that the high comes comes as much from completing a challenge as it does from exertion. Either way, it works for me. Through their analgesic effect on the body, the release of endorphins results in a state of euphoria for the satisfied receiver.
So here's what I'm thinking: in the rhythm of life that we were created to enjoy, our work was part of the healthy mind/healthy body balance. While my work is largely sedentary and needs to be supplemented with exercise to attain this balance, the rhythm of life back in the day would have yielded a bunch of endorphins each day. Dad went off to work and worked hard. Dad was fit. Dad ate plenty because he was hungry from a hard day's work. But he was also blimmin' satisfied in his labour. The endorphins released by his effort and accomplishments made sure of it.
Obviously it's not all about work. For a start that wouldn't make for a trinity of posts. And it would eventualy make Jack a dull boy—though perhaps not as quickly as all play and no work would.
I've got to stop as my body clock is calling for the second installment of the series right now.
Before I go though, what's your experience of work? Does it energise you? Reward you? If you're in an active job, do you come home tired and satisfied...or just plain tired. And how is it linked to your spirituality and your relationships. Is it connected or is it separate? How do you address the sedentary nature of your job with a body that craves endorphins for its own sanity?
Monday, August 6, 2007
Send it down
Last Friday, there was 2136,000,000 litres less in our dams compared to 2006. Today, there's 172,000,000 more in our dams than this time last year. (The black line below tells the tale)
Rain's a great thing. Nah, really, it is. Just saying...
Sunday, August 5, 2007
The Writers' Bloc
It's hard to find an easy answer to what releases a writer to write and what makes one retreat. In talking to a few Ensemblees lately though, it seems as if we may have clammed up en masse—a collective writers bloc/k.
I love the scene in Adaptation where Charlie Kaufman (played by Nicolas Cage) attempts to sit down and write. What transpires is a marvelous internal dialogue between conflicting voices that come up with a bunch of reasons why he needs to write...and yet things aren't quite right.To begin... To begin... How to start? I'm hungry. I should get coffee. Coffee would help me think. Maybe I should write something first, then reward myself with coffee. Coffee and a muffin. So I need to establish the themes. Maybe a banana nut. That's a good muffin.
For a few minutes, Kaufman considers all the possible reasons for his blockage: the position of his desk, his general writing location, his level of tiredness, and his hunger. They're more explanations than causes though.
My guess is that for most, the number one enemy of unbridled writing is time. Pretty obvious I guess. Writing is generally the product of thought. And talking, reading and listening. Rumination, meditation and contemplation. Lots of 'shuns' all over the place that gestate and give birth to written expression.
These things take time.
So, while the Ensemble loosens the bowels of their minds with the fibre of contemplation and motivation, why not start talking? What gets you unstuck? Assuming you figure that writing stuff down is a better-than-average means of processing the gear in our internal and external worlds, what gets you un-stuck when you become a tad constipated?
I figure we could all use a little help...
Top 5: All-time favourite albums
Wish, the magazine that gets tucked inside my copy of The Australian on the first Friday of each month, included a "High Five" (as they called it) of all-time favourite albums from some musicians and industry-folk. Some of them also nominated a guilty pleasure—a CD to which they were sheepishly attracted.
It didn't take much of a leap to figure that this should step up as Cacophony's next Top 5. Before we get there though, some Top 5's from some folk you may know:
Tex Perkins
1. Sticky Fingers: The Rolling Stones
2. Loaded: The Velvet Underground
3. Tonight's the Night: Neil Young
4. Raw Power: Iggy & the Stooges
5. Clear Spot: Captain Beefheart and The Magic Band
Guilty Pleasure
Jesus Christ Superstar (Soundtrack)
Marcia Hines
1. Sargeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band: The Beatles
2. Tutu: Miles Davis
3. Face Value: Phil Collins
4. Talking Book: Stevie Wonder
5. Luther Vandross: any album
Arnold Frollows
1. Kind of Blue: Miles Davis
2. What's going on: Marvin Gaye
3. Astral Weeks: Van Morrison
4. Hejira: Joni Mitchell
5. The Harder they Come: (Soundtrack)
Guilty Pleasure
Hotel California: The Eagles
Sarah Blasko
1. Debut: Bjork
2. To Bring you my love: PJ Harvey
3. Amnesiac: Radiohead
4. Dirty: Sonic Youth
5. Talking Heads: 77 Talking Heads
Guilty Pleasure
Neither Fish nor Flesh Terence Trent d'Arby
Simon Elliott
1. U2: The Joshua Tree
2. Making Movies: Dire Straits
3. Gossip: Paul Kelly
3a: Rumours: Fleetwood Mac (just following on the with the loose lips)
4. Enlightenment: Van Morrison
5. The Bends: Radiohead
Guilty Pleasure (not really, just one more)
Brood: My Friend the Chocolate
So: Peter Gabriel
Simon's twin
1. David Grey: White Ladder
2. Oh, Mercy: Bob Dylan
3. Mercury Falling: Sting
4. Woodface: Crowded House
5. Glo: Delirious?
Guilty Pleasure
Difficult Loves: Weddings, Parties, Anything
So—step right up and swing hard. No wrong answers (other than those listed above).