Demonstra-babble

So, I haven't updated y'all in a while, and quite a lot has happened in that time.
No, really. Some of it would have merited blog posts of its own.

So, we had a punch party.
Everyone dressed up (Martin went for a Sound of Music feel- Lord knows why). And the punch was non-alcoholic so I definitely did not get tipsy and fall asleep in the midday sun, only to be woken by the nudging of a passing stranger's foot. There was also a bocce tournament, and I am assured that I was amazing, as I threw the ball the furthest, which is surely the point of bocce.

I also met with Charlotte for coffee, who pointed out that I overuse the word 'demonstrable', causing me to move on to the word 'emphatically'. Who knows what my buzzword will be when I kick the 'emphatically' habit- previous addictions include 'ostensibly' (brought to my attention by Chaz), 'obtuse' (Aspen) and 'appreciative' (Esmond).

I've also been to two plays with Andrew recently: Gaybies- verbatim interviews with the children of gay parents staged with panache, flair and pizazz, and with Geoffrey Rush in attendance (yeah, I was standing a foot away from Lionel Logue)- and Act A Lady, which was akin to an Almodovar film being staged as a pantomime (yes, it was that bizarre). Act A Lady really warmed my heart because it reminded me so much of the old boards I used to tread in Broseley, Wenlock and Horsehay; it was the first play I've seen in at least a year that wasn't a polished, big-budget, unsinkable whizzo affair. And that was good for me- the tech was minimal, the acting unaffected and the sets simple. I should see more theatre like that and remind myself what's possible even without money. 

In other news, I was nearly hit by a car (and I mean, really nearly- it was two inches away) whilst driving about with Victoria and Finny (who's a Doctor Who fangirl- yay!). This guy came out of nowhere and nearly smashed right into the side of the car I was sitting on. Luckily, Victoria swerved, because if she hadn't I would have been hit head on by a car because this guy was not stopping. I remember muttering 'Oh, God' and Finny screamed.
And then the guy had the nerve to beep at us. Asshole.

It was also Australia day on Saturday, and I drove with Aspen, Martin and Victoria to Aspen's hometown, (in the car on the way, ABBA's 'The name of the game' got stuck on repeat- I miss you, group 4 (except Joseph)), where her Dad was named 'Citizen of the Year', which was pretty cool. She got her picture in the paper, which was kinda cool. And there was free face painting, which was super awesome amazing.

Don't worry, it's gone now. By which I mean the beard, not the face paint.

We then went for a party at a friend of Victoria's, which was, quelle surprise!, a barbecue. It was very fun and I got to meet many colorful new characters, including a descendant of bigfoot.

The next day we went back to Victoria's, and there this happened:

 

Eat your heart out, Mary Poppins.

Cup-lettes

I really like the Rowden White,

The chairs are plush, the staff polite

It's the place to go, with time to burn

There's just one rule: don't try to learn

They let you be, they don't take names

If you watch TV or play some games

They play you films, if you've a gap

They've even got a place to nap

Need a break before your final?

They'll lend you both CDs and vinyl

Special sections for every fetish-

And Fifty Shades, if you're coquettish 

Comic books (if you're a layman),

The collected works of Neil Gaiman!

All you could want, in one little cuddy,

So come inside, but, for the love of God, please don't study

Guess which library re-opened today? Also, apropos of nothing, rhymezone.com has had a redesign and I don't like it. 

Soapbox

Yesterday, I visited the immigration museum. This in itself could merit a fine, if somewhat trite, blog post, because the museum is well put together, pleasingly designed and just plain interesting. It also had stuffed blackbirds in dickie bows:

You can't see it, but the sign pronounces that they're singing 'bye bye, blackbird', which is just the kind of inane detail I love in a museum. This was part of an exhibit about all the animals which were exported to Australia and also included artful arrangements of cockroaches:

The first one to say the guy in the reflection is a cockroach is a dead man,

 And rats:

It just needs Rik as a judge.

All of which is very charming and makes for a nice, if somewhat trite, anecdote. However, the main reason I wanted to talk about the immigration museum was because of the context in which I saw it: I had just read in The Age that Julia Gillard was going to continue to allow employers to discriminate against people because of their sexuality and that she had previously declared that she wouldn't be implementing marriage equality.
And then I came across this display:

Which is about one of Australia's first mixed marriages in Australia between a greek immigrant and an aboriginal woman. The sign talked about the difficulties they faced as a mixed-ethnicity couple but then concluded that this was no longer an issue, and that the term 'mixed marriage' isn't even used anymore because Australia's just so damn progressive when it comes to love.

Ahem.

And then there was this display: 

Which touches on Jewish immigrants, and says how they weren't really accepted until the holocaust made people realise that anti-semitism isn't cool. There were other minority groups exterminated in the concentration camps, you know.
And then the entire second floor was dedicated to diversity and how great it is. In the interest of fairness, there was one instance of the word 'queer', thrown in amongst a bunch of other slurs which we were told can cause offence.

As I said, the museum was engaging and well-designed; I just wasn't feeling it. I don't know if I'll come back to Australia in my later life, but I certainly wouldn't consider moving here until some serious progress is made vis-a-vis equality. However, if that progress is ever made, I should have no problem coming back, because the museum included a replica of the Australian citizenry test, and I passed with flying colours.

Also of note: this is the only museum to have ever made me feel sea sick.

Pool Intentions/Crusty said yes is totally my new band name

I have just returned from a barbecue-cum-pool party at Milly's, and have a lovely case of sunburn to show for it (I promise I used suncream, mummy, but the water washed it off).

Yes, we spent the afternoon frollicking in the piscine (sea-water, not chlorine, don'tcha know?) and then had some lovely grilled meat. There is an Ozzie innovation which I really want to import to British swimming pools called 'whirlpooling'; basically, everyone runs a caucus race until the currents created cause everyone to trip up and be flung around wildly (someone has nearly drowned both times we tried it). I think the old public baths in Edinburgh could benefit enormously from adopting this activity, and it would mean fewer old people and children would show up to spoil everyone else' swimming experience, lest they get caught in the elliptical exodus.

On top of this, I stumbled upon a marriage proposal whilst returning from the city the other day: someone, nick-named 'J-lo', had written out an elaborate love note in chalk for their darling 'crusty' along their walk home (some of which corresponded with mine- I admit to taking a detour to read all of it), leading right to the front door, where I like to imagine J-Lo was waiting with champagne and 'kiss me' blasting on a stereo. I was going to film it and put it on here but a) I thought it was probably a personal thing and b) it was just too long for me to film on my phone- this thing was a friggin' love epic. Incredibly romantic and actually very well punctuated- I sure hope Crusty said yes, there's a keeper if ever I saw one.

Finally, Aspen and I visited the National Opal Museum on Tuesday, which for some reason was Dinosaur themed,

except for one part where there were loads of molluscs hot glued onto the wall (which I didn't photograph). Anyway, I'd love to say I now know more about Opals than anyone could ever possibly need but it really wasn't that informative.  If they weren't a museum, I'd say they just wanted to sell opals.

Illiberal Arts

Have I ever mentioned how much I like animation? Especially animated feature films? Cos I do. Or, at least, I thought I did. Then I visited the Silver K Gallery in Armadale.

Where preconceptions die.

Don't get me wrong, the exhibit at the Silver K, which is an animation gallery, was lovely- but the amount of money that some people were willing to pay for cells of animation makes me realise that what I thought was a passion is, in fact, a mere passing fancy. 

Take for example this piece:

I feel this serves to obfuscate how dull some parts of both Sleeping Beauty and Fantasia are. Also, in case the staff of the silver K somehow find this blog, I did not take this picture, but found it on google.

You cannot imagine how much the colour pops in the original. It is just captivating. I stared for several minutes. Did I stare enough to be willing to pay $955? No, sir. No I did not.

But some one did. Cos that piece had been sold just this morning for that exact amount. The curator told me this with evident pity for me for having just missed out on this absolute steal in his voice and I lamented appropriately while inside I was reeling.

This was the essential problem I had with the Silver K gallery, which was otherwise a very pleasant viewing experience: they were obviously geared towards selling the pictures in their care, while I just wanted to observe them and  then leave (and possibly print out some flimsy, but cheap, paper copies later on), as I do at most galleries. I cannot afford art. This is why I have cut up comic books on my walls. Even though there was a concession price to enter the gallery, they evidently did not want student patrons. 

However, the art of Disney is so characterful that there was a lot to be got out of just looking at individual stills, and the concept art was fascinating: I wasn't allowed to take photos, but let's just say Ursula looked a lot different in the beginning. 

Anyway, if future generations of Melbourne Exchange students are reading this, I recommend the Silver K gallery to you: but maybe try dressing up like you're rich so they don't keep asking where you heard about them (they advertise on TV for heaven's sake.)