Word-whore. I write 'em. I talk 'em. Information, politics, media, and the cybers. I drink. I use bad words. All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris! Vive les poissons rouges sauvages!
This image is supposedly some sort of profile of me, concocted from data gathered on the Internet by Personas, a component of the Metropath(ologies) exhibit, currently on display at the MIT Museum.
I have no idea why such a big proportion is allocated to sport. But, hey, play with it yourself.
OK, some time on the weekend someone broke the brick wall which supports our letterbox. It wasn’t us. But given the poor behaviour of the junk mail merchants, who could blame us?
Despite the presence of a “No Junk Mail” sticker and the more recent addition of Marrickville council’s own “No Advertising Material” sticker, advertisers continue to shove their things into our box. So I’ve decided to name and shame.
This week’s advertisers who failed to follow this basic piece of etiquette are: Cavellis Woodfire Pizzeria; Cut & Save Tree Service; David Jones; Domino’s Pizza; Go Green Insulation; Kmart; MiniMovers; Papaya Thai Eatery; Raine & Horne Marrickville.
Now I do know that in Australia these stickers have no legal force — unlike online, where the Spam Act 2003 provides stricter rules. But if someone communicates a polite request not to receive a catalog, and the first thing you do is give them the catalog anyway… well, is that really a good marketing message?
I’ve also noticed over time that real estate agents are particularly prominent in our junk mail. What is it about these overpaid pricks?
I’ll be inviting each of these advertisers to respond.
[Update 9.15am: Missed one: Marrickville Metro (AMP Capital Shopping Centres). They’re another company that’s big enough to know better.]
This photograph is going strange things to me. And I think I like it. I found it at It’s Lovely! I’ll Take It! #antlers
Once more around the cycle. As I did last year, and almost every year, I paused a moment yesterday to mark the Winter Solstice. It is the same, but different. Once more around the cycle…
Rather than a fragile tealight flame, this year I have a robust church candle. Another cold, damp day, but the Solstice is at 3.45pm instead of 9.59am. This time it’s actually raining. A gentle raindrop pattering just manages to drown out the distant noises of city traffic.
Sitting in almost the same spot as a year before — not exactly the same, because the ground is wet and foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds — my awareness is heightened about what’s changed, what’s the same.
Last year, we’d only just emerged from a long drought. This year, everything is greener, more healthy. The poinsettia is still in flower, a bright, deep red, rather than dying petals on the ground. This year, the heavy jets are taking off, not landing. Just as bright, just a shiny, just as loud, but taking off for — literally — new horizons. New possibilities.
As of course am I, and soon.
After another year in the same home, I’ve gotten to know the daily sounds and rhythms. Without turning, I know the roar behind me is not merely a heavy jet taking off, but specifically a Boeing 747. The engines have a distinctive higher-pitched whine mixed with their roar.
And they’re the loudest thing in the sky. Usually.
Some 300 metres away, a rainbow lorikeet darts and skims home. Even though it’s just visible as a silhouette in the distance, and silent, I know it’s a lorikeet from the way its wings move in flight. Similarly, a sulphur-crested cockatoo gliding through the mist to land on the nearby school sportsground is distinguishable from its close cousin the corella, simply by its gestures in flight.
A child’s balloon — electric blue and oh so shiny and bright! — appears from nowhere and scuds over the house just as another 747 — white and oh so shiny and bright! — roars overhead, just as the rain eases off. I’ve always loved watching these heavy craft taking off into the west, especially at dusk. Even in the 21st Century there’s still a sense of wonder about starting a new journey, is there not?
Just as this particular jet banks and turns to choose its outbound path, seemingly at random but in fact chosen according to a pattern which shares the noise of takeoffs amongst everyone living below the flightpath, a bright patch appears in the sky. A little break opens up in the otherwise even grey cloud bank precisely between me and the Sun. And the 747 chooses to break through the clouds precisely in that very spot — spearing the emerging possibilities as accurately as a hunter’s spear.
I check the time.
It is precisely 3.45pm.
Precisely the Solstice.
And then the rain starts again. The break in the cloud closes gently. Another lorikeet, much closer, squawks. Just once. And he’s gone.
Another time around the cycle…
People have been asking whether I’m excited about my trip to Africa. To be perfectly honest, I’m not.
Or at least not yet.
Project TOTO is still too abstract. There’s no firm dates, there’s no clear itinerary and, from a project management point of view, no clearly defined goals. Not because the project isn’t happening or doesn’t have support or isn’t being planned properly, but simply because that detailed conversation with ActionAid Australia about priorities has yet to take place.
That conversation is scheduled for this coming Friday 12 June.
Meanwhile, I’ve had many, many things on my mind. Most of them are completely unrelated to Project TOTO. But all of them have conspired to make the last three weeks extremely stressful indeed.
That’s one reason why my last video diary was back on 21 May. That’s a screenshot at the top of this post. I’m looking tired, eh? And I’ve been even more stressed since.
It’s time to catch up. So, even though this is the Queen’s Birthday holiday, here’s a rambling update. With some pictures.
It’s my birthday. To mark the occasion, ’Pong took a photo the other day which reflects a self-portrait it took many years ago — possibly in 1980 though I can’t be sure. Nothing’s changed.
Since every blog post should link to at least one other thing, do consider whether I look like Ja’mie King, whether you like the unshaven version, or the scary version.