1. You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead by Marike Hardy.

I think my project in 2012 will be to record all the books I read in a year. I've always wanted to do that. I think I'll do it here. I was going to do it on Facebook, but I think that might piss people off. I burned through a lot of Facebook social capital last year harassing people to vote for some baby photos in a competition. Sorry, world. This way, I can also write a little something (if I so choose) about my book as well.

Over Christmas I read Gimme Shelter by Mary Elizabeth Williams and The Secret Life of France by Lucy Wadham, but I can't quite remember if I finished in them in the new year, or earlier.

The first book I definitely started and finished in 2012 was You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead by Marike Hardy. It was not great. She's a pretty hacky, clichéd writer, and her stories just irritated me so much. She has a habit of frequently using two sentence structures that I really dislike. One is so describe something, usually a person or group of people doing something, by writing a short sentence that includes two, sort of, typical but unconnected actions, viz, her friends as uncaring stoners: "We opened another beer and turned our backs to the water" (p 240). The other is to describe something (usually a person) by saying they are "all" something, viz, herself as a fourteen year old: "all hotpants and teetering teenage platform shoes" (p 88); her muso mates: "all skinny denim and Beatle boots from Rocco" (p 233); a young footballer: "all stick arms and milky-spindle legs" (p 84).

Look, here's both kinds together! The Fitzroy Lions: "They moved as a pack, all fleshy arrogance and pride. They slapped each other's arses and spat on the grass" (p 83).

That second one is used fairly frequently in blogs- especially fashion blogs- as a short hand way of creating an impression of a person or style, which I get under the pressure of online writing. But jeez, it annoys me in edited, published work. I think I first encountered it in Maggie Alderson's column for the Herald a bit over ten years ago.

Mostly I disliked YBSWID because of my irritation with the character of Marieke Hardy. The chapter where she described three years as a groupie for the band Dallas Crane ("The Bubble") was the worst. I just kept wanting to say "how OLD are you?" It is not cute to be a groupie in your thirties. A little googling leads me to believe the end of the Bubble was about 2007. Maybe 2009. And she was born in 1976. So she was maybe aged 31 or 33 by the end? Either way, far too bloody old. That behaviour is for 20 year olds. Stop being sad.

Her front cover coy side-eye, miserable little boudoir pics in the back cover, and that dreadful, cultivated "fun-feminist" ironic stripper thing she's doing I also find very grim and unappealing.

Or maybe I'm just a grumpy old square with no idea of how to live a bohemian life. A grumpy old square who probably shouldn't read from the "blogs into books" genre.

Let me try something marginally more serious next time. I should warn however, that if anyone ever reads this, I promise to be honest, and if you think of me as a smart person, you will be astounded at the crap I read.

Rich people are better than us

Lego Kate and Wills

You know what? I absolutely am getting up at 5am to watch the royal wedding. I know it's anti-feminist and anti-Republican (er, the Australian version therof), I'm going in with my eyes open, and I just don't care. I want to see the pretty horses and the fancy hats and the dress and tiara. I've always been fond-ish of the Royal Wales family; my mum kind of looks like Princess Di and my brother kind of looks like Wills. And an excuse for cake and champagne pre-dawn is never passed up. Especially 5am champagne that you had to *get up* for, not *stay up* for... mmm... sleeping. I might actually get a couple of those Dunkin Donuts commemorative donuts. And then I'll get a whole dozen more of the regular ones. Who am I kidding?

Now, what coverage should I watch? CNN probably won't turn off the scroll- which I truly hate- but might have some actual news and better close ups. Style Channel has a dangerously high chance of a Giuliana Ranic appearance, but will have better dress commentary. Is PBS doing anything? What about my beloved NPR? Do I get BBC America? Must check.

Driving behind weirdos

Seen on driving over the Key Bridge today

This license plate:










And this bumper sticker:

On this car:

I've got some ideas about protecting life. Doesn't involve advocating forced pregnancies from behind the wheel of a blind-spot machine that could wipe out my Honda Civic in one foul cloud of 13 MPG exhaust fumes.

Do you want to know where I was?

I don't know why this is funny.

I set up this blog in October 2009.
I took a hiatus in January 2010 to teach high school history for one semester.
In May, I stopped teaching and took the last class in my masters program.
From May to July, during class, I had to keep a separate blog for my class work.

That blog is here: http://pippateacheshistory.blogspot.com/

You will probably find it very boring, as it references very specific class readings and discussions that are likely to just be confusing to anyone who wasn't there. But, I feel like I should justify my absence. There it is.

Goddamn it, Karen!

This actually is Karen. See here!

This is Karen. Karen is my GPS. I always talk to her as if she were a real person. I often talk *about* her as if she were a real person.

I've read the "avoid ghetto" joke, but what I really wish was that Karen had a "be sensible" option.

If I've programmed Karen to take me where I want to go fastest, she makes me drive on the mo-foing beltway just to get from my house to the shops. If I program her to take me there using the shortest distance, it will invariably involve driving down alleys behind disused factories that I'm not entirely sure actually are roads.

Obviously, I don't want to drive 5 extra miles on the scariest highway in America to save one minute on my drive. Obviously, I don't want to twist and turn down tiny laneways just to drive 10 metres less in distance. Goddamn it, Karen. Be sensible! Use some normal streets for once.

Clap your hands if you believe in Google

Have I mentioned recently that Google is fucking amazing? Little fragments of miscellanea that have been in my mind for years can be traced to their source in seconds, with only the crudest of prompts. I saw a performance of this monologue from the play 'Dentity Crisis by Christopher Durang probably in 1994. While I didn't know that name of the play, the performer, or the playwright, in 1997 I tried to locate the piece so I could use it for my monologue drama performance in the HSC. I couldn't find it and dropped drama as an HSC subject. It's been vaguely swirling in my head since then, and tonight resurfaced while I was at the computer. I swear I Googled only the words monologue clap hands and there it was (fourth hit).

In 2006 there was an episode of Six Feet Under that featured some Buddhist chanting that I really wanted to hear again. I must have spent 20 hours that year Googling and checking the show's credits and emailing the Buddhist temple the producers thanked in those credits, to no end. A couple of weeks again I typed Six Feet Under Buddhist chanting into Google and there it was on YouTube, embedded in the results. In the comments under the clip, I found the source material was Ritual Chanting by Nine Monks Chanting, which I subsequently bought off Amazon and had delivered to my door.

This world is awesome (for me and other privileged peeps).

Why, hello again!

Don't tell anyone! (not in a creepy way)



I've been inspired to start chatting again. But I will need to put up a privacy restriction, limiting this blog's viewing to my only reader. Because the Spring semester has ended, I am no longer teaching at any school, I have graduated from my Masters program but! I am taking one last summer school class. And that class requires that I keep a blog in blogger and share it with my classmates. So I must shield their precious eyes from any lascivious content contained herein.

For the love of little green apples, I can't wait for this degree to be over in its entirety. June 23rd, is my day of all days.

Now, I must return home from the library where I am posting this, and rejoin my family.

Kisses!