Friday 29 January 2010

The Road

I went to see The Road last night; the film adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer winning novel.


I had read many reviews of the film prior, all of them commenting on the grim, relentless bleakness inherent. It's to be expected though, when the film's subject is surviving a post-apocalyptic world where hope hangs on a thread.

Before I left work for the cinema, I mentioned to a colleague that I was going to see it. She looked at me in alarm.

Oh no.

What do you mean, Oh No?

You'll need a drink when you get out, she replied. Actually maybe best to have one before you go in too.

All this wonderful preamble fully situated me to come out of the film and slit my wrists.

I went nonetheless.

Afterwards I did not kill myself but instead went for pizza with my friend who had come with me. We went in a slightly stunned state, as if we had been bludgeoned by a mallet, but in a good way.

The film was bleak and grim and relentless. It was also familiar, tender and visionary. At least for me.

I sat rivetted throughout. I didn't find it plodding or angstful. The images and emotions onscreen seemed universal. Questions raised in the film were my own and that of my generation and the ones to follow. Questions about survival, morality, humanity, hope and love.

It was compelling and I can't get it out of my head.

Monday 25 January 2010

The Winter of My Discontent

My husband put in a request recently for me to write some more topical entries.

I like it when you write about issues. It makes me think about what my point of view is in relation.

The subtext of course being:

I’m sick of your navel gazing.

So I thought about what recent issues I could pontificate on at length here. Some that have captured my attention include:

• The recent life sentence of Frances Inglis, the mother who killed her son by heroin overdose. An act of mercy or murder?
• Ludwig Minnelli, founder of Dignitas and his vision for a humane way to leave this life
• The Hope for Haiti telethon (the tag line being – Is George Clooney positioning himself as the new Bono?)
• The dolphin killings that happen in Taiji, Japan as depicted in, The Cove

Whilst the above are all topics worthy of discussion, my attention is distracted by an omniscient presence that pervades my every thought and has done for many weeks.

January.

January as a month deserves to have a blog entry dedicated to it. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve written about my rapture for this time of year. January is a season all of its own. It’s the season of Hell.

As I wake in the morning gloom to look out the window onto another grim and cheerless day, I wonder whether this is what it might have been like to live in The Dark Ages. Certainly the pale faces squashed up tight in the airless confines of my rush-hour tube carriage, look as if they have been subjected to hours of mediaeval drudgery and hard bread that hurts your teeth.

Powerless as we are to change Mother Nature, it does beg belief that people choose this most joyless of times to practice abstinence. Detox? Are you kidding? We already have no light. Why no food and drink too?

I know I’m not alone in my January-itis. Apparently you are susceptible to this view if you are Australian*.

Despite the connotations of the term, Downunder, the country I hail from is not dark (or hairy). The quality known as light is in such abundance that sunglasses grow from our heads.

I can hear voices echo, well if you love it so much, why don't you go back? Or is that my own talking?

I’m not happy about the lack of sympathy. I probably have S.A.D. I need medical attention.

January-itis is a real thing. They dedicated an episode to it on 30 Rock. The song, A Whiter Shade of Pale was inspired by it. When Dylan Thomas wrote those oft quoted lines:

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light


he wasn’t writing about death. Mark my words, the man was Welsh. He was writing about January.


*Quote: If you write about January you will just sound like a moaning Australian.. Husband …(still)

Friday 22 January 2010

A Rose by Any Other Name

One of the things I appreciate most about having a diverse mix of friends is the different experiences I have with each of them. For example, my mate Renata is a free food magnet. Many a time I have been walking down the street with her when out of the blue, someone will offer us free food. I think she has a homing instinct similar to carrier pigeons when it comes to saving money. Another friend Lupe is a man magnet. She meets men at the rate at which most people blink. Her hectic love life makes Sex and the City seem like dating for geriatrics.

I was out with both of them last night for a night of food and frolics. Renata left early leaving me and Lupe to entertain ourselves. True to form, Lupe started chatting to two blokes on the street whilst having a fag. They came in and ended up sharing our table. As they sat down, one of them turned to me and said:

Hi, my name’s XXX

I didn’t think I’d heard right.

Excuse me; did you say your name is XXX?

Yes, that’s right.

I laughed.

But that’s my name!

You may be thinking, what’s the big deal but my name is not common. It’s the equivalent of being called Hortensia and then meeting some dude with the same name.

As the weirdness of it sunk in he told us his surname.

Get out of town, that is not your real name! was mine and Lupe’s instant reply

He shrugged and showed us his business cards.

There it was. His real name.

Oh how we laughed.

Then Lupe decided to share with us a name that she loved.

I love the name Hint. It’s just so....strong. If I had a daughter I would call her that.

As the guys stared, probably regretting their choice to join us, I told her that she must not do that to her future children. That she must not do that to anyone. Not even a pet.

But I like it.

Hortensia (the male) chipped in:

Look love, you can’t call your daughter Hint. It’s like Mint. It’s like Lint. I mean I could get it if there was some big bloke down the gym with muscles bulging out to here and he’s your trainer and he comes up to you and says Alright? The name’s Hint. I could get it then but not for a little baby girl. It’s just not right.

Duly chastened there was no further mention of that moniker for the remainder of the evening.

I fear the worst though. Poor little Hint.

Saturday 16 January 2010

A Shade of Blue

Facebook is great for pilching other people's photos. The illusion of privacy is exactly that. One of the web techs at work confirmed to me how you could get sideways access into a stranger's photos. I knew this already as I had just nicked this:


This was taken by a a friend of a friend of a friend. In other words, a stranger but one who took this photo of a flock of seagulls flying close to the faint moon on average blue sky day in Perth.

It's been too long since I saw that shade of blue....

Friday 15 January 2010

'Till Death Do Us Part

I think about death regularly. I think about my death and how I would like it to be. I think about my husband's death, my family members, my friends. I think about what it might be like to die and how it might feel. If I am thinking about the death of someone close to me, I wonder how I will feel once they have shifted off this mortal coil and I am left without their presence in my life.

My husband thinks I am obsessed. Whenever I bring up the topic he rolls his eyes and groans. Our death talks have become a comedy double act.

I don't know what his problem is. Life and death are a complete package. In one hand you hold life, and in the other - death. I might not even know you but there is one incontrovertible fact I do know about you. That you will die. It strikes me as strange that our society gives so much airtime to life and brushes death under the carpet.

Mind you I wasn't always of this opinion. I blame it on a Danish beatnik hippy called Ingvar who suggested that I read The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying.


It'll change your life, he said.

I was nineteen, still young and green. He was thirty two, had a cool leather jacket and had travelled the world so I presumed he knew what he was talking about. It turned out that he was right. Prior to that I hadn't given much thought to death. Afterwards I thought about it a hell of a lot more, meaning that I actually thought about it rather than ignoring it or holding it as apart from me. I realised that the great thing about acknowledging death is that it means you are also acknowledging life.

Lately death has been in my thoughts even more than usual. One of the closest people to me on this Earth has recently diagnosed with cancer. The prognosis is good and I am not expecting him to cark it any time soon. What he has to endure though is six months of chemotherapy and some major life shifts. Having to reflect on his mortality has made me examine what I would sacrifice in order to assist him in the road back to health. What is the fight I am prepared to put up on his behalf?

The answer has surprised me. But what a lovely surprise for both of us. It turns out that our friendship is as strong as I always suspected.

Nothing like a bit of death on the horizon to find out what's important to you in life.