Bite My Latte

What's your 'go-to' webpage when bored?

2012-01-17T22:50:00.000+11:00

I need new toys on the internets! No blue stuff or nuthin', mind - but I've just realised I go to the same webpages 95% of the time. I am curious (Beige) as to what I'm missing out on.

What's fun 'n different? And is it as good as Strange Maps?

A Bumper Crop of DVD Rankings!

2012-01-08T00:54:00.004+11:00

As Peter Sellers put it in "Being There", I like to watch. This comes straight off my phone, where I record the videos I've watched. Quite a few months worth here. I rank them 1-10, 10 being the highest.

The only editing I've done to the list is take it out of chronological order, and group them by score. From D'or to D'oh, as it were. Occasionally I note the Director's name.

Your thoughts? Disagreements? Endorsements?

10: Ivan the Terrible II; The Silent Partner; LA confidential; Manhattan murder mystery; 12 Angry Men; Blood Oath.

9: Accident (Pinter); Satan's Brew; Gainsbourg; Road to Perdition; Lola; Centurion; Intimate enemies; Le Regle de Jeu (Renoir); L'enfer; A Summer's Tale (Rohmer); Valerie and her week of wonders; Das Boot; 2:36; Full moon in Paris; Mother Joan of the Angels (Jerzy Kawalerowicz); Repo Man; That cold day in the park; The player; La Ardilla Roja; Match Point; The outlaw Josey Wales; The Club; Whatever works; Moon.

8: Ivan the Terrible I; Passenger (Andrezj Munk); A winters tale (Rohmer); The Dead (John Huston); Distant voices, still lives; Army of crime; Katzelmacher (Fassbinder); Chinese roulette (Fassbinder); The Perfectionist; Sweet smell of success; Between Wars; The Last Detail; Dog Soldiers; Pauline a la plage; Leap year; The Marquise of O; 3 Women; I am love; Melinda and Melinda; Rendezvous in Paris; Winter in wartime; Gosford Park; Julia's Eyes; Ryan's Daughter; Cassandra's Dream; The Maltese Falcon

7: A blonde in love (Milosz Forman); The third part of the night (Andrzej Zulawski); Audition/talent show (Milosz Forman); The Cars that ate Paris; Diamonds of the night (Jan Nemec); Veronika Voss; The Searchers (Ford);Duet for Four; Squizzy Taylor; Wittgenstein; Brilliant Lies; An Autumn Tale (Rohmer); Peaches; My girlfriends boyfriend (Rohmer; The Green Ray; Husbands and wives; Bigger than life; Nos querido mes de agosto; The long goodbye; Billy Liar

6: Love me no more; Red white and blue; Safe; The night the prowler; Cracks

Trilogy: the weeping meadow; Everyone says I love you; Fallen Angels

4: Black Dahlia

3: The man from London; Chaotic Ana; What's up tiger lily

2: Suspiria; Four minutes

0: The piano tuner of earthquakes

Please invade us and terminate this 300 years of stupidity

2011-10-29T01:20:00.004+11:00

Bonus! Our Head of State can now be a woman, even if there’s another option. Plus s/he can marry a Catholic (though naturally, she can’t actually be one, like say, me: a secular atheist who was baptised a Mick – and all my relatives).

Obviously, I've always wanted to be part of nation that wouldn't have people like me as top dog.

Thanks Commonwealth, for updating the irrelevance of the peevish and shitty Restoration prejudices we call our Constitution.

My apologies...

2011-08-28T18:25:00.001+10:00

In this post, I'd like to formally apologise for reaching 43 summers before reading Kingsley Amis' Lucky Jim.

Christopher Hitchens is right, it is the finest comic novel of the 2nd half of the the 20th century; but not as right as some bloke called Toby Young, who chucks in the first half as well.

As I wipe away remaining hysterical tears from the 'Merrie England' public lecture scene, I furthermore issue a general statement of regret to several friends and colleagues, on whom I have urged David Lodge, or Malcolm Bradbury, as the finest exemplars of the campus novel; without mentioning the Master. Was any ill-informed lit critic ever so blind!

Finally, oh fickle Lords of memory, please let the requisite time of forgetting pass quickly, so I can read it again.

Recent Happysnap

2011-07-18T15:59:00.000+10:00

News from our fort at Solor

2011-05-15T01:06:00.001+10:00

Some will laugh at us, Amilcar, in a future yet to be imagined.
As you say, O meu Capitão.
The Holandes, they will pass.
Sons of Spanish pimps and Flemish whores, O meu Capitão
But our fort at Solor will endure.
This I believe also, O meu Capitão.
Because in their hearts, all men are Portuguese. And they were all lost, seeking the Indies.
May they see our forts, O meu Capitão...
...and know themselves, Amilcar. This is why our impossible empire
will whisper... forever.

Portuguese, which was fought, will now be taught at the University of Indonesian Timor*
Dili, 11 mai (AP) - A University of Indonesia, the PGRI, will go ahead with the creation of a program teaching Portuguese in Indonesian West Timor, today announced its vice-chancellor, Titus Buren.

"The fundamental reason to open the teaching of Portuguese at our University is the ease of communication with East Timor," said the rector.

"East Timor and West Timor in Indonesia are in the same archipelago, and communications are important to a good understanding," he argued.

The PGRI is a tertiary institution dedicated to science education and teacher training, with units in Kupang in West Timor, and Jogjakarta.

Titus Buren, who is visiting Dili, told reporters at the National Parliament, where today went, which was signed Tuesday a memorandum of understanding with East Timor for cooperation between his institution and the East Timor National University ( UNTL).

"In November he was made an initial feasibility study and was signed yesterday a memorandum of understanding with East Timor, in research and teaching, under which we will create a program teaching Portuguese, promoting internships and student exchanges" he explained.

* Google auto-translation from the Portuguese.

Remembering...

2011-04-25T11:18:00.001+10:00

Both my grandads were WW2 veterans - one a left wing coal miner, the other a conservative middle class teacher. Neither wanted a bar of the RSL, ANZAC day - or anything else to do with that time of their lives.

Ever.

Let us not forget that many Australians unease with the martial routines of ANZAC day is also informed by war veterans, a direct legacy from those who returned; and that Australians voted twice to defeat conscription.

Vidlog

2011-04-10T00:50:00.006+10:00

Fort Solor Vidlog! See below the list I keep on my iPhone whenever I watch a video. Which is quite often, I confess. Ive been getting into Eric Rohmer, Louis Bresson's finest pupil Louis Malle, some sci-fi, some horror, Spanish language film, and of course, as always, 1970s Australian film.

Ive bolded the ones I thought were really top shelf, and tried to be picky at it too. Some of them Id seen before, but love - these will be obvious. I've also used strikethrough for the genuine stinkers.

If you loved or loathed any of these, or have related recommendations, leave a note in the fort gate suggestions box below.

The man from hong kong/ Scanners/ Loneliness of the long distance runner/Nosferatu/Napoleon dynamite/The removalists/ Milou en may /Escalator to the scaffold /Boys don't cry/Jacobs ladder/Punishment park/ Hard candy/ Five minutes of heaven/ Reds/~~Cannibal holocaust~~/Breaking the waves/Event horizon/La Bete/~~Irreversible~~/~~Anatomy l'enfer~~/Old Joy/Into the wild/My dinner with Andre/Letters from iwo jima/Last stop 174/Travelling North/Battle Royale/~~Logan's run~~/Wigan Casino/Kids/Gozu/The silent house/I spit on your grave/Suture/Last year in Marienbad/Soylent Green/River's Edge/Repulsion /The Field/Patton/ 2001: A Space Oddyssey/Scanner Darkly/Unforgiven/La Notte/Dons Party/Peeping Tom/Alatriste/Scott Pilgrim/Red Desert/Battleship Potemkin/Knife on the water/~~Amacord~~/Triple Agent/Chloe in the afternoon/ 8.5/~~Ciao manhattan~~ /Bananas/The good marriage/The aviators wife/Blood diamond/Madam Bovary/The Night Porter/Tale of springtime /Guess who's coming to dinner?/Money movers/The Plumber

I could eat a plate twice...

2011-04-09T00:53:00.000+10:00

Liamista goes Luso (like...finally!) and plates up a bossa feijoada at his new blog.

Fort Solor duly issues four-cannon salute, over at Orange Juice and Ryvita

Viva!

Don't blame me, I voted for Pemulwuy

2011-03-27T02:24:00.002+11:00

Macarthur replaces Bligh in NSW Rum Corps Rebellion

Ngrams - you know you want to

2011-02-11T10:36:00.005+11:00

Listen here, philologists amateur and professional: Google Ngrams are highly groovy. You can check the relative usage of particular words over a 500-year period - and also compare British v American English.

For example, ruthful blips up in the 1580s before succumbing to its ruthless antonym.

And here you'll note that connexion was really quite competitive with connection until the 1850s (indeed, it was winning in the early 19th century):

Those are things I've discovered in a few minutes of playing around. Let me know if you discover anything cool!

Also available for French, Spanish, German, Russian and Hebrew.

The Brisbane Floods of 1893.

2011-01-22T13:07:00.011+11:00

From The Brisbane Courier, 6 February 1893.

DISASTROUS FLOODS.

UNPRECEDENTED RISE IN THE RIVER.

LOSS OF LIFE.

FEARFUL DESTRUCTION Of PROPERTY

INDOOROOPILLY RAILWAY BRIDGE

WASHED AWAY.

SCENE ON THE RIVER.

DREDGES AND STEAMERS ADRIFT.

__________

THE WATER RECEDING.

The unprecedented floods from which this part of the colony is at present suffering have, since last publication, reached the magnitude of a widespread calamity. A number of lives have been lost ; hundreds of persons have been deprived of their homes and of the whole of their little possessions, and the loss of merchantable goods cannot at present be estimated. At the time of writing we are able only to give an outline of the chief occurrences of the past forty-eight hours in Brisbane, but there is sufficient to show that the flood is one altogether without parallel since the settlement of the Brisbane district. Not until roads again become passable will it be possible to form anything like an exact idea of the mischief wrought. Brisbane was last night without communication by road, rail, or telegraph with any of the outlying districts, as indeed it has been since Friday night, so that the facts pro- curable were simply those relating to the immediate vicinity of the capital. Last night the water was between 11ft, and 12ft. above the flood mark of 1890 ; but in spite of local rain the water slowly receded from 9 o'clock.

From about midnight on Saturday until yesterday evening very little rain fell, and it was generally hoped that fine weather would set in for a time at all events ; but by sunset last evening steady rain again began, and the night as it fell over the city was perhaps the most gloomy that has yet been experienced. No gas had been available since an early hour on Saturday night, and though some lamps in Queen and George streets were lit by Messrs. Barton, White, and Co. from electricity generated at the Government Printing Office, this served to light but a small portion of the inundated streets.

Every effort is being made to supply the immediate needs of the suburban residents driven from their homes, and while many in various districts were accommodated in empty houses, shelter and relief were also afforded at the Town Hill and other public places. Police and Defence Force men worked hard to save life and minimise, where possible, the destruction wrought, and many young men, members of athletic clubs and football and cricket teams, worked with a will, plying in boats the whole of Saturday night from point to point where help was needed. Where the local authorities took the work systematically in hand as in the case of Booroodabin much needless suffering was avoided, but an emergency of such an unexampled nature could not in any case be fully met. Many persons needlessly risked life for the sake of trifles, and in several instances death by drowning was the result.

The havoc wrought amongst country and suburban residences along the course of the river must have been enormous. All night long on Saturday the crash of houses driven against the Victoria Bridge and torn to pieces could be heard above the roar of the water, and the number thus destroyed must have considerably exceeded 100, to say nothing of those which had been dismembered before reaching the bridge. In the suburbs the water lifted numerous houses from their blocks, and the wind, even where there was no current, drove them in all directions. Indeed until the waters recede it will not be possible to form an idea as to what amount of damage has been done.

The most serious destruction of public property, so far as is known, is the loss of the railway bridge at Indooroopilly, but even there the damage cannot be assessed at present, as it is not known how many of the piers of the bridge may remain uninjured. Amongst the shipping the steamers Natone, Boko, Konoowarra, the dredges Groper and Platypus, and the steamer Advance, with other smaller vessels, were washed down the river and driven ashore at various points ; but it may be hoped that many of these will be got off.

The question in every mind has naturally been, Where will it stop? Mr. Wragge, in the absence of any telegraphic advices, did not feel justified in making any definite forecast; but he stated yesterday afternoon that he still expected more rain, and so far as last night was concerned this was fully borne out.

A great deal of drunkenness was unfortunately observable in various directions. The weather was no doubt the excuse for the over-indulgence of many ; but when kegs and barrels of beer floating away from the West End Brewery were washed ashore at the foot of Bowen-terrace and others from the Phoenix Brewery were picked up in Fortitude Valley the scenes enacted were disgusting in the extreme, and men were seen drinking all they could and then quarrelling for possession of the cask containing the balance. Several of the accidents which occurred are undoubtedly the result of this and similar misconduct.

IN THE CITY.

SATURDAY NIGHT AND SUNDAY.

Throughout Saturday afternoon and evening the flood waters continued to rise with alarming rapidity, and as the river rose all the low-lying portions of the city became more and more submerged. It soon became evident that the disastrous flood of 1890 would sink into insignificance beside that of 1893, still few believed that it would attain the proportions which it has done. Notwithstanding the excitement which prevailed in the city, and the anxiety with which the steady incoming of the waters was regarded, the number of people to be seen about the streets was not nearly so large as on an ordinary Saturday afternoon. This was to be accounted for by the fact that residents in the suburbs and along the lines of railway who could stay at home

did so. Only the mere venturesome, and those whose presence in the city was imperative, adopted every means available to get to business, while all who had residences a little distance out of town, and who had visited the city, made for home as early in the afternoon as convenient, before communication by road or railway was cut off. Of course a considerable number of warehouse proprietors and managers of premises in Queen, Eagle, and Creek streets and the thoroughfares running between Eagle- street and George-street, stayed in town and mournfully watched the flood gradually ascend into the ground floors of their premises now and again making inspections in order to ascertain how matters stood.

At night the city was in more than semi- darkness. There was no gas, except in the higher portions of Spring Hill, where the pressure left in the mains was sufficient to permit of more or less being obtained. Most of the business establishments in Queen-street closed early, but a few of the shops were kept open till the usual hours of closing, and trans- acted what business came to them by the aid of kerosine lamps and candles. Long before midnight even those enterprising dealers had become alarmed at the near approach of the waters to their places of business, and some of them at once set to remove their goods from the street floor of the shops to the upper regions of the buildings.

Soon after darkness set in the lower part of Queen-street between Eagle-street fountain and Creek-street began to be covered with water which before midnight must have been about 3ft. in depth. By that time the whole of the lower part of Eagle-street was completely submerged, and the waters were steadily making their way up the cross street and rising in the large business premises of these thoroughfares. At 9 o'clock a measurement was taken in Messrs. Harper's office, at the corner of Albert and Mary streets, and it was found that the highest point reached by the flood of three years since had been exceeded by 4½ft. In some of the warehouses work in removing goods to safer positions was carried on, and even at a very late hour drays could be seen, laden with goods, making their way to the more central and higher portions of the town.

Messrs. Denham Bros., in Mary-street, in this way succeeded in removing all but about £40 or £50 worth of produce to premises at the upper end of Elizabeth-street. In a few of the warehouses workmen were stationed, ready at any moment, to re- move goods, from, the lower to the upper story should necessity arise for this. On Saturday night Edward-street from the Metropolitan Hotel to Alice-street was a sheet of water, in places 8ft. or 9ft. deep ; and in Albert-street the waters had readied a good distance on the Queen-street side of Elizabeth-street, and as a rise was still taking place, shopkeepers there were showing great activity in clearing the ground floors of their premises of goods. A gang of men were engaged in removing organs and other musical instruments from the store- house of Messrs. Pollard and Co.; and a valuable stock of bicycles in the shop adjoining was also saved.

At the Victoria Bridge a knot of people had collected, and in the semi-darkness, for the moon was making a struggle to give a little light, regarded the rising and swiftly running waters, and were made aware as crash after crash was heard against the girders of the structure that another house, was being carried down the river. Within a space of ten minutes four houses came down with the current, and passed under the bridge. During the afternoon and evening, and also throughout the night, great masses of debris were being carried down the river, and fears began to be entertained that some serious damage might be caused to the bridge. It was therefore deemed advisable, at 4 o'clock in the morning, to stretch a rope across at each entrance, and those passing over the structure were informed that they must do so entirely at their own risk.

At midnight the low-lying parts of Adelaide street, between Creek and Edward streets, were inundated, and the water was flowing steadily round the corner of Edward-street and into Carew, Gardner, and Billington's and the Courier cellars by way of the Courier-lane. Efforts were still being made to lessen the water in the cellars of the Brisbane News- paper Company by pumping, and to keep it back by means of a dam but these were of little use, and soon all the available workmen had to direct their attention to the removal of bales of paper from the lower por- tions of the building to the vestibule. Mr. Gardner, of Carew, Gardner, and Billinglon, had remained in town, having become alarmed at the rapid rise of the waters in the firm's premises during the day, although all the goods had been taken on Friday from the cellars to the first floor. In the early hours of yester- day morning a band of willing helpers and a gang of labourers were set to work, and under Mr. Gardner's supervision the goods on the first floor were removed to the floor above. At the same time the employees of the firm and others were engaged in doing a similar service in Finney, Isles, and Co.'s warehouse, on the opposite side of the street.

FROM WICKHAM-TERRACE.

The scene from the Observatory, on the upper part of Wickham-terrace, yesterday afternoon was one never to be forgotten by those who looked upon it. A gentleman was heard to say that, when a boy, some forty years ago, he heard his father state that a blackfellow had informed him that his tribe had seen what is now known as South Brisbane covered by the flood waters. looking aoross the Valley towards St. Lucia it was easy to realise the truth of such a state- ment. On the south side the river had over- flowed its bank to an enormous extent; and but for the appearance of the top of a building here and there it might easily have been sup- posed that the waters were only occupying their natural bed. The prospect was a deplorable one. Not only were all the buildings in the lower parts of the sister borough under water to a greater or lesser extent, but it was known that not a few had been carried down the river, and now and again the roof of what had been a commodious dwelling was to be seen floating down with the current and remain intact until was crashed against Victoria Bridge. It was estimated that nearly fifty houses were carried down the river from the upper reaches during yesterday; and it was remarked that in many of these a portion of the roof had been re- moved, as if at the last moment the occupants had saved their lives as the waters rose higher and higher by escaping through the roof. On these floating houses there was no sign of human life, and it may therefore be hoped that, disastrous as the flood has been in other respects, it has not been attended with so great a loss of life as might be feared under the circumstances. The current was running very strongly, and the

water flowed on the southern end of Victoria Bridge and almost touched the decking on the Queen-street side. The overflow of the river extended almost as far up as Edmonstone- street, half of Musgrave Park being apparently submerged. So far as the eye could reach along the bend of the river towards St. Lucia nothing was to be seen but the havoc wrought by the flood, and it could only be surmised that the residents on the St. Lucia Estate must be having a rather trying and anxious time, if they had not indeed sought refuge on

the higher grounds in the vicinity. The gas- works were rendered useless, the water being nearly up to the top of the gasometers, and all the houses along Montague-road had suffered severely. Some of them were completely under water, whileh in other instances only the tops of the roofs could be seen. A conspicuous building was the West End Brewery. The water had risen up to the windows of the second story, and all the dwellings in its immediate neighbourhood were completely hidden by the waters or nearly so. To the s0uth, as far as Park Church, the flood was so high as to reach the roofs of one-story buildings ; and all the flat country to the east, as far as the high rising ground at the end of Grey-street, and north from that was trans- formed into a lake. Fortunately, the people had had sufficient warning given to them to leave their homes for safer localities, and only one fatality on the south side of the river is reported.

THE EAST WARD.

That portion of the East Ward sacred to the carrying on of wholesale business may be said to have felt the full force of the inundation, for between Queen-street and Alice-street on the one side and the river and Albert-street on the other the ground is almost wholly under water, at places to a depth of 15ft. or 16ft., but that part of the ward extending to Adelaide-street between Eagle and Edward streets was not exempt from the ravages wrought by the flood. Yesterday Queen-street, from the Bank of Australasia to Nicholson's music ware- house, was submerged, with the exemption of about a hundred yards at the Post Office. Creek-street, from Queen-street to Adelaide street, and Adelaide-street, from Creek-street to Edward-street, were under water, and in the latter street the water was 8ft. or 10ft. deep in portions. Excepting for the small part of Queen-street already mentioned, a boat could go round the immense block of buildings ex- tending from the Courier office to the Queens- land National Bank and from the Gresham Hotel to the corner of Edward and Adelaide streets. The Gresham Hotel could be entered in a boat, the water being half way up to the ceiling of the first floor. The shops at the intersection of Edward and Adelaide streets were submerged to the veranda tops, and in Carew, Gardner, and Billington's and Finney, Isles, and Co.'s premises the waters were several feet over the first floor. The flood waters also extended along Adelaide street as far as Stewart and Hemmant's, where yesterday afternoon dozens of men were employed in removing goods from the ware- house to the vestibule of the Centennial Hall. From the Normal School to the Botanic Gardens was a small river, all the buildings, along that thoroughfare being more or less under water. In Eagle-street the waters came up to within thirty yards of the foun- tain, and the warehousemen in close proximity to the river must have sustained heavy losses. In Elizabeth-street the water, came up as far as the Theatre Royal Hotel, in Charlotte street to within a few yards of the Oddfellows' Hall, in Mary-street to the beginning of the Queensland Club Hotel grounds, in Margaret-street to considerably passed Watson and Co.'s, and in Alice-street to beyond the Masonic Hall. In Harper and Co.'s premises the waters rose 9ft. over the level of the previous flood. Edward-street was wholly under water, and in Albert-street there was no break from half way between Elizabeth-street and Queen-street to the Botanic Gardens. As yet nothing can be said of the losses likely to be sustained, but these must be enormous, as practically every place of business between Adelaide and Alice streets and Albert and Eagle streets has shared in the present visita- tion, while many of the buildings have been under water to a depth of 15ft. or 16ft.

SOUTH BRISBANE.

As all communication with South Brisbane was stopped yesterday, no accurate account as to the ravages made by the inroad of the flood waters could be obtained. Some idea of the height to which the waters reached could be formed, however, from observation of the buildings in Stanley-street, which could be seen from the north side of the river. The buildings erected on Webster's wharf were almost hidden by the waters, and the roof had sustained damage. The Musgrave wharf buildings were submerged, the water coming up to the name lettering on the roof. Hargrave's buildings in Stanley-street were under water to the depth of ¡t is estimated, about 20ft., the water reaching to within a foot or two of the window sills of the second story. All along Stanley-street the buildings were submerged to a proportionate ex- tent, the dip in the thoroughfare of course making a difference in certain places. The platform of Melbourne-street Station was under water, and only for a very short distance could the line between the station and Vulture-street keep above the highest point reached by the flood. Of South Brisbane it may be said that the borough between Walms- ley Point and the Dry Dock in one direction and Walmsleys point and Hill End in another was submerged.

NORTH QUAY.

North Quay has suffered seriously. At the flood of 1890 this portion of the city was almost wholly exempt from the inroad of the river. On this occasion, however; the waters, which three years ago merely covered certain portions of the road, have risen so high as to submerge that part of the thoroughfare from the beginning of the corporation wall to a long way past Boundary-street. A break also took place in the roadway there. The carriage works were covered to the depth of 8ft. or 10ft., and all the houses between McCormack's and Boundary-street were sub- merged, the waters coming up nearly to the roofs. On Saturday afternoon the residents were compelled to leave their houses, and as no time was given them to save much of their belongings some of them have been considerable losers. The differenoe between the previous flood and the present one may be judged from the fact that while three years ago Bennet's house, just on the other side of Boundary-street, escaped injury the water is on this occasion nearly up to the second story. The houses in Boundary-street have also been sufferers. From one residence the occupants had to be taken away in a boat, as in oonsequenoe of one of the inmates being unwell they refused to leave until it was made clear to them that unless they did so they would certainly lose their lives. The only other portion of the North Quay under water was that between the back entrance to the Supreme Court and a little beyond Turbot street. At the Market wharf the river had risen as high as the boundary railings, and the roadway was flooded to the depth of several feet. The water was half way up the doors of the iceworks, which were under water, while the ground to the back was submerged. The waters were about thirty yards up Ann-street, but did not reach to any of the houses there.

WILLIAM-STREET.

At the lane which runs from Queen-street down to the river at the back of the Museum the river overflowed the roadway. The Queen's wharf was completely covered, and the Colonial Stores were under water to the depth of 2ft. or 3ft., as were also the lower portions of the old immigration barracks. Further on Pettigrew's works were to a great extent under water, and a small stone building there col- lapsed. D. L. Brown and Co.'s Short-street warehouse was underwater to the depth of about a dozen feet. All the Short-street houses had to be vacated. The Alice-street ferry was completely hidden, the top of the lamp-post on the ferry-house alone being visible.

NEW FARM.

Previously the majority of the residents of New Farm have been out of the reach of flood waters, but the present flood has found its way into all the low-lying portions of the district. The old racecourse has suffered terribly, and all the houses on it are completely submerged ; and the water has now reached a depth of some 20ft. in some places. Most of the residents had prepared for the flood, and left their homes, as the racecourse is generally swamped even after an ordinary downpour. All the low-lying land between Kent-street and the racecourse is inundated. Annie and Heal streets, which slope downwards between Tene- riffe and Bowen-terrace, are submerged to a considerable depth, and there are some 10ft. of water in Annie-street. The water has stretched right up to the foot of Bowen-terrace, and a number of houses hereabouts are surrounded with water. Mr. Turner's residence, right on the bend of the river, is also threatened, as the water has succeeded in getting within a short distance of the house, and most of the large area of this land is submerged. Mr. Matthews's residence and nursery have suffered severely, the gardens being completely submerged, and only a small portion of the house is visible. Mr. Tozer's residence is also threatened, as the water is not very far from the house, and if the river continues to rise the water will no doubt reach it. The lower part of Sir Samuel Griffith's residence, on the bank of the river, is also covered, but the homestead is not at present in any immediate danger. Hundreds of people were stationed on Bowen-terrace throughout the day watching the debris pass- ing, and the greatest interest and anxiety pre- vailed. The residents are doing all they can to render assistance to less fortunate neighbours.

FORTITUDE VALLEY AND NEWSTEAD.

The water which had accumulated in these districts on Saturday has increased in the majority of places to a great depth. Wickham and Ann streets, from the Oriental and Osborne Hotels respectively, are covered with water, ex- cept in two places, to depths varying from 1ft. to 8ft. The water stretches from Ann-street across to Jane-street, and from there down to the gasworks, and all the country between the latter place and James-street, except on the hill leading to Teneriffe, is covered with water to a considerable depth, and the majority of the houses are surrounded with water, the tops only being visible. Some of the residents in this neighbourhood had not thought it possible the floods could rise so high, and consequently did not shift until too late. A large number of boats were plying backwards and forwards all day. Some of the members of the Salvation Army did splendid work, and they cannot be too highly praised. Furniture was being taken from a number of houses throughout Saturday night and yesterday, the only means of ingress in many cases being through the roof, which had to be broken in. The Catholic Church in James-street has also been entered by the water. At the Waterloo Hotel the water has reached perhaps its greatest depth in those districts, being in places some 15ft. and more. Most of the buildings in the neighbourhood are two stories high, and the water has in most cases risen above the balcony, and some it has com- pletely submerged. The tram stables in Light street, between Wickham and Ann streets, are also nearly covered. Here as elsewhere boats of all descriptions are carrying passengers and furniture to places of safety. All wheel traffic has been suspended since Saturday night. Further on, in the vicinity of the gasworks and the Newstead district, nothing but a dreary expanse of water meets the eye. From the foot of O'Reilly's Hill to the other side of the river water in this neighbourhood has also con- siderably increased. Boats have been busily engaged shifting the goods and chattels of the flooded residents to more secure places. All the houses situated on safe ground in these districts, and unoccupied previous to the flood, have been lent to the Booroodabin Divisional Board, so that the numerous families who have had to leave their own homes can be placed in safety. The Primary School in Brookes-street has also been placed in the hands of the board, and a large number of the unfortunate people

are installed there.

BREAKFAST CREEK AND THE ALBION.

Perhaps no place has suffered more severely from the ravages of the flood than the Break- fast Creek district and the country stretching from the creek bridge towards the Albion, more especially the latter direction. The scene presented by this district on Saturday morning was terrible to look upon, but to attempt to give a description of the place when our re- porter visited it last evening would be in vain, and the devastation will be terrible. Stationed in a boat near the creek bridge nothing but water can be seen in the Albion direction as far as the eye could reach. The previous day some houses and the tops of others were visible, but yesterday nothing but a vast sheet of water was presented to the eye as far as the foot of the Albion Hill. Fortunately the majo- rity of the residents had prepared for the flood, and had forsaken the homes for places of safety. A large number of boats were at hand ready to render any aid required. Breakfast Creek has, of course, risen to a great height, and all the boathouses and the bridge were completely submerged. A strong current was running in the creek.

ON THE BRISBANE RIVER.

THE VICTORIA BRIDGE.

From an early hour on Saturday until we went to press early this morning the scene pre-

sented on the river was one of the utmost seriousness. It was not until late on Saturday afternoon that the worst was expected, but as the river rose foot by foot the inhabitants of the lower portions of the Quay, particularly between the bridge and Boundary-street, com- menced their preparations to move. More distressful surroundings could not possibly be conceived, for the rain was coining down with a steady downpour which threatened even more serious consequences than were then impend- ing. Long before nightfall the flood mark of 1890 had been reached and passed, and still there was no sign of a diminu- tion of the flood waters. When the tale of the great flood of 1893 is told over again those persons who witnessed the scene from the Victoria Bridge will have varied recollections. But for the unhappy circum- stances surrounding it the picture would have been almost one of grandeur. As it was it was piteous. Many hundreds of persons assembled on the northern approaches soon after daybreak to see what there was to

see. The river told an unmistakable tale of the havoc which has been wreaked in its watersheds. Long before Saturday night had set in houses could be seen coming down, and it was with breathless anxiety that the crash was awaited as the roofs struck the bridge. The anxiety was increased by the fact that it was impossible to tell what damage had re- sulted to the bridge itself by such repeated collisions, and so serious were things regarded that shortly before midnight the authorities deemed it necessary to close public traffic. So far as vehicular traffic was concerned this made no difference, as it had to be suspended some hours before, but there were still a few venture- some persons who chose to take the risk of passing over the structure, whatever the con- sequences might be. The sight which was seen yesterday morning from the top of Queen street, facing the southern portion of the city, was one which will live in the memory of all who saw it. Not inch by inch, but foot by foot, had the waters risen in the night, until it was impossible to say where it was going to end. With remorseless flow the flood waters swept on, bearing on their bosom houses, stables, trees, snags of all sizes, and even live stock. Every now and again a cry would be raised that there was another structure coming down, and then would follow a rush to the river side to see the building strike the bridge. It was a literal rending of the heart strings when the crash came, and what was at one time—and how short a time since ! - a comfortable residence smashed against the bridge like an egg in a strong man's hand. Time after time was this repeated. with a sickening regularity, and as the day wore on the timbers piled up against the bridge side grew and grew until their pressure on the structure itself threatened to become serious. One of the most serious things which threatened the safety of the bridge was a punt which had been washed away from above, and which came down with a tremendous sweep on the construction. It was a marvellous thing that the punt—a very massive one— struck bow on, and running clean into the bridge literally stuck there. Even then it was a serious matter, what with the weight of the boat and the pressure of the flood waters behind. At one time there was a suggestion to blow the boat up, but this was not deemed advisable ; in fact, if it had been carried out, the bridge itself might have been imperilled by the explosion. So far as could be seen very few live stock were carried down the river. Occasionally one would see a cat perched on top of a house, and per- haps some fowls, or a duck or two, or a cow; but at no time was there the sign of human life in jeopardy. This was the one solitary consolation which the sightseers could afford themselves. It was heart-rending to see thousands of pounds' worth of property destroyed before one's very eyes and be unable to in any way avert it. No matter how heartfelt might be one's sympathy for the distressed; assistance was utterly impossible. The most serious appre- hensions were entertained for the bridge itself, and practical men—engineers and others—con- fessed that things could not possibly be more serious. The night fell with this gloomy aspect at its worst. Some time in the after- noon the drizzling rain, which had been falling since daybreak, ceased, but this was succeeded by a "stuffy" atmosphere, which gave undeniable symptoms of more rain. Nor were these symptoms mis- leading, for as soon as night fairly set in it commenced to come down in torrents. The crowd was as great as ever at the bridge ap- proaches, and still the anxiety continued as to whether the bridge would be wrecked.

STEAMERS AND DREDGES WASHED AWAY

The river as viewed from Bowen-terrace last evening was one seething mass of water rush- ing along at tremendous speed, and carrying in its sway everything that did not offer a stubborn resistance. All the wharves are now completely submerged to a considerable depth, the tops of the various sheds thereon alone being visible. At Messrs. Howard Smith and Sons' wharf very little of the sheds could be seen. The steamer Gabo, which was brought up to the wharf on Friday, is now actually floating on the top of the wharf, and her decks are higher than the road at Petrie's Bight. Grave fears are entertained as to her safety, or of her swaying on to the top of the shed, and steam is being kept up to meet any emergency. Messrs. William Collin and Sons' wharf at the foot of Boundary-street has been carried away, and also the goods-shed. The large wharf adjoining Collin's also suffered a similar fate. At the Australasian United Steam Navigation Company's wharf the tops of the goods-sheds are alone visible. Sutton's ironworks at Kangaroo Point have, with the exception of a couple of the buildings, been swept out of existence, and last evening the heavy sheer-legs, which had stood the stress of water all day, subsided with a crash. Messrs. Peacock and Co.'s jam factory close by has also been carried downstream, and several private houses in the same vicinity have shared a similar fate. The steamer Konoo- warra, which was anchored in midstream

round Kangaroo Point with the steamers Wodonga and Buninyong, parted her cable yesterday morning and drilled into the grounds of a private residence at the foot of Merthyr-road. The steamers Lady Mus- grave and Boko also drifted from their moorings in the upper part of the river, but fortunately met with no further mishap. They are now moored at New Farm. About 4 o'clock yesterday afternoon a number of vessels were seen drifting down the river from the Garden reach, where they had been moored together. It was feared by the hundreds of spectators who were watohing the occurrence from Bowen-terrace that all the craft would be dashed to pieces on the rooks below. Opposite Messrs. Howard Smith and Sons' wharf the boats parted company, the dredge Groper and the clam-dredge Tridaona, with a steam barge, being in one lot, and the steamer Advance and the dredges Platypus and Pumba in another. Coming round near the foot of Boundary-street great excitement prevailed amongst the spec- tators, as destruction seemed inevitable, but this was quickly subdued, as the boats, owing to the splendid navigation of some one, were quickly swerved round out of danger, and they proceeded drifting down the river. The Metropolitan Baths were carried away, and as they were drifting down they collided with two large punts at the A.U.S.N. Company's wharf, which were carried with them.

INDOOROOPILLY RAILWAY BRIDGE DESTROYED.

In the list of public disasters must be placed the destruction of the Indooroopilly Railway Bridge, a structure which formed one of the picturesque features in the locality, and which even to the non- professional was a marvel of symmetry and grace. The flood of 1890, the highest known since the bridge was built, until the present terrible visitation, gave the structure a shaking, and at that time there were grave doubts that it would be able to withstand the shock of the vast body of water which for several days rushed with mighty force against the pier columns. Precautions were taken then to assist the bridge by placing a train of loaded trucks upon it, and the great weight of the train must have materially assisted in keeping it in position. On Saturday last, when it was seen that the present flood was to eclipse all its predecessors, special steps were taken to combat the great force of water which came rushing down. Not only was a loaded train again placed upon it, but under the direction of Mr. H. C. Stanley, Chief Engineer for Railways, the rollers on the top of some of the pier columns which provided for the expansion of the bridge were blocked with steel wedges to prevent the swaying. Before nightfall on Saturday it was seen that the chances of the bridge standing the enormous strain put upon it were but small, and a large number of residents in the locality waited until a late hour with the idea of seeing the last of it. The evil hour was, however, deferred until about a quarter to 6 o'clock yesterday morning, At the time stated there was a great crash and a roar like thunder, and one of the 80ft. spans of the bridge canted over down- stream, and then disappeared under the sooth- ing flood. The sound was heard distinctly nearly a mile from the site of the bridge, and very soon nearly all the residents of the locality were on the spot. The beautiful bridge was no more as a symmetrical whole. Not only was the 80ft. gap noticeable, but it was seen that one of the piers 160ft. from the Chelmer side of the river had gone. The great span of 100ft. with the arched back was out of line, forced downstream, and with the southern end left without the support of the pier there was an oscillation of fully 18in. Up to 1 p.m. the remainder of the bridge stood, and there were hopes that it would survive the flood. This hope, however, was not shared by the engineers. The spans which had been left were assailed by a mighty rush of water, far beyond anything anticipated when the structure was placed in position. Right up almost to the level of the floor the waters dashed, coming with a cross sweep from the south side. Occasionally downstream would come a large log, or a wrecked building, or other flouting mass, and be hurled with a terrible force against the girders of the bridge. From the columns of the piers the dirty yellow water recoiled and reared, roaring and showering its spray over the side rails of the doomed structure. The ends of the girders were caught by the flood and swept downwards, and at 1 p.m. the unsupported end of the 160ft. span with its beautifully designed arch was seen to move gradually downstream. A few foot only and there was a mighty report. The span quivered for a moment in midstream, and then fell over and went down in that great surging mass of water. Up to 6 p.m., when a reporter left the scene of the disaster, the remainder of the bridge still stood, but there was but little hope that the morning would see, any thing beyond the spans on the north and south banks respectively. The feeling in Indooroopilly at the loss of the bridge was most keen. Apart from the national disaster, the sense of which was appreciated by all, there was the sentiment that one of the most picturesque of the local landmarks had gone.

A representative of this paper waited on Mr. H. C. Stanley, Chief Engineer for Railways, yesterday morning at his residence, Indooroopilly. Mr. Stanley seemed to feel the loss very much ; one of the monuments of his work was gone. He nevertheless supplied some very interesting information concerning the bridge. It was started in 1874 and completed in 1876. It is an iron—not steel as is supposed—girder bridge, consisting of a centre span of " Hog-back" character 160ft. in extent, six 80ft. spans, and one 40ft. span, with parallel lattice girders. It was constructed for a double line, resting on fish-bellied cross girders. The abutments at each end were constructed of Ashlar masonry. On the north end the abutment rested on the rock, and at the south end the foundations were at a considerable depth and formed on a bed of concrete protected by sheet piling. Each pier consisted of two cast-iron columns, each 8ft. in diameter up to high water level, from which point they tapered to 5ft. under the caps. They were filled with cement concrete up to the flood level of 1864, which was supposed to be the highest known flood when the bridge was built. That point was about 15ft. below the bottom of the girders—Mr. Stanley mentioned that he was speaking from memory—which were about 12ft, above the flood of 1890. The under side of the girders was about 44ft. above tidal high water. The north end of the long span rested on rollers on top of the pier columns to allow for expansion, but the south end was fixed. Two other of the spans were on the roller system at one end, and these were the rollers which were blocked on Saturday with steel wedges. The first indication Mr. Stanley had of danger was in the fourth pier from the north or Brisbane end. That had sunk on the lower side to a perceptible extent. The up girders were jammed and the lower were open about 3in., showing that the settlement was on the lower side. No. 6 pier had not then sunk, and Mr. Stanley's opinion is that the columns were struck by the ferry punt or Mr. Wilson's house

The piers were in nearly every case in solid rock, the exception being No. 8, at the southern end of the long span. That was, however, put a great depth in slaty rock. The inclination of the cylinders downstream Mr. Stanley could only account for by the suggestion that the pressure had ground the slaty rock away ; but even then it seems strange, even to a professional man, that the columns did not snap off, as was the case in the Waterford Bridge in 1887, when they were inclined from the perpendicular. From, a sketch of the river bed as supplied by. Mr. Stanley it is found that in one place the columns had to bear the force of 90ft. of water

rushing down at a rate equal to nine or ten miles an hour. The Indooroopilly Bridge was erected by the Government under the direction of Mr. Stanley, Mr. J. R. Jones being supervising engineer. Mr. Jones was the supervising engineer on Victoria Bridge for Messrs. Peto, Brassey, and Betts. It cost about £52,000. Mr. Stanley estimates that eighteen months' time will be re- quired to replaoe the bridge.

IN THE SUBURBAN DISTRICTS. VIEWED FROM THE HEIGHTS.

As great anxiety was felt concerning the fine railway bridge at Indooroopilly a member of our staff yesterday morning started to make his way thither on horseback. The journey was accomplished without much difficulty by the circuitous route along Latrobe-terrace, Bardon, round the road at the foot of Taylor's Range, up to Mount Coot-tha, and down to Indooroopilly on the opposite side of the Range. From the heights of Stennett's Corner and Mount Coot-tha an idea could be formed of the awful extent of the flood waters. From the bottom of Latrobe-terrace there was one unbroken sheet of water extending right across the Oxford, Bayswater, and Milton Estates to West End on the other side of the river. The roofs of scores of houses could be seen in some cases only a few foot out of water. Nothing but the roof could be seen of the Congregational Church on the Bayswater-road, while little more could be discerned of the Milton State School. Some of the submerged houses had partly toppled over, showing that the stumps had given way. From the summit of Mount Coot-tha the valley of the river was marked by an immense body of water, extending right from the Bay to apparently beyond Goodna. From Indooroopilly there was a huge lake reaching, as far as could judged, far beyond Rocklea to the eastward, right across Indoo- roopilly Pocket and below Oxley Creek to the north, and to Sherwood Station on the south. It was evident that the whole of

THE FARMS ON OXLEY CREEKwere submerged, as well as most of the farmers' houses. The greater part of TOOWONG seemed to be under water, and it was afterwards learned that the railway station was flooded, that the station-master and many of the business people had been compelled to leave their residences. It was also stated that the water was in the dining-room of Mr. Finney's residence, while the water was a considerable distance up the walls of Mr. Gailey's house, which was on an island, being cut off from the hills behind by what seemed to be a gully, but which was probably the cutting in the road. A boat could be observed moving about in this locality, and some others were observed in various localities.

THE ST. LUCIA ESTATE. was under water, and but little could be seen of Mr. G. W. Keith's residence. On THE OXLEY POINT. all the low-lying places were under water. The farm houses of Messrs. Mullen, Ewing, and Orr, on the left, were almost covered, as were also the house of Mrs. Crawford and the Chelmer station-master's cottage, while the water was half way up the Chelmer shelter shed, and the line was under water from Indooroopilly to Graceville. The residences of Mrs. Montefiore, Cannan, Sutton, Steel, J. Brown, W. J. Morley, C. H. Buzacott and others on the same level were some distance above the flood level. As the

water had almost ceased rising—having come up only about four inches from 6 a.m. till 11— they were not in danger. The water was up to and apparently under Mr. T. Clouston's and Mr. Cardno's houses; but those of Messrs. Bruce, Ramsay, Young, Frew, Costin, and Mrs. T. H. Berry were clear of the water. Mr. Mousley's house was partly submerged, and Mr. Primrose's was in the same state. The water was all around and up to a foot or two of the floor of Mr. R. D. Neilson's picturesquely situated residence near the bridge, but the house of the railway ganger, Mr. White, close by, was some distance clear of the flood. The residents of Indooroopilly state that they saw from moving lights during the night that people in boats were busily engaged rescuing people from flooded houses. It is known that there were two or three rowing boats at Riverton, and one at the ferry, which no doubt were kept fully occupied by Mr. Cannan and other residents. The ground in the neighborhood of Sherwood Station is highly situated, and no doubt the flooded-out people will have sought refuge with the more fortunate occupants of houses in this locality. It is feared, however, that provisions will run short before communication with the north

side can be established.____________

LATEST OFFICIAL REPORT.

We learned last evening from the Weather Bureau that the rainfall in Brisbane for the twenty-four hours ended at 9 a.m. yesterday was 4in., which with the 1·24in. registered on Saturday morning makes a total of 17·38in. since the commencement of the rain as against 9·19in. recorded during the 1890 flood.

The barometer at 9 p.m. was going down, and there was at the time no indication of the rain ceasing.

FIG-TREE POCKET. During yesterday reports of a most sensational character were circulated concerning the effect of the flood at Fig-tree Pocket and (Seventeen-mile Rocks. A reporter from this office visited the locality in the afternoon, and found happily that the reports of loss of life were quite unfounded. After leaving the Indooroopilly State School, the main Moggill road can be travelled only as far as where the Witton flats water backs up. Thence to beyond the gate, of Mr. Moore, jun., there is a wide stretch of deep water, with but little current, but covering the whole of the houses on the Witton side of the road. To get out beyond this point the road which leaves the Moggill-road just beyond the school should be taken. At the creek which flows through the Quarantine ground the culvert is in an unsafe condition in the centre, but sticks show the dangerous place, and horsemen with a little care can safely pass through. Thence to Fig- tree Pocket, by a route along the tops of the ridges, there is no water. In the pocket several of the farms , are submerged, and Mr. Garrigan's, Mr. Kelly's, and several other houses are cutoff. The greater part of the Sanitary Company's shed has been washed away, but the other houses which the water has reached stand safely so far. There has been no risk to life, the residents leaving their homos as soon as it became evident that there was to be a heavy flood. Mr. James O'Brien, Mr. Denniston, Mr. Moran, and others suffer the loss of their crops, but there is no distress in this locality at present. The people who are washed out have in some cases found refuge with friends, and others have been accommodated in the church. Opposite Fig-tree Pocket, in what is known as the Seventeen-mile Rocks district, there has been a great agricultural loss, but as far as could be ascertained there was no loss of life. The whole area from the river to the foot of the range of hills is an unbroken stretch of water.

In the Kenmore vicinity and out on the Moggill Creek there is a phenomenal spread of water. Moggill Creeek has been backed up near Mr. Woolcock's gate on the southern side, and on the north the water reaches Mr. William Squires's gate. The Brookfield-road beyond Forder's is covered, and the low land at the rear of the Kenmore Hall has flood water on it for the first time in the memory of people who have been in the district for nearly twenty years.

Brookfield is not flooded. The Moggill Creek is high, but is crossable in most places with a short swim. The farmers in this neighbour- hood have suffered very little.

Between the Moggill - road and Fig-tree Pocket there is a fairly well-settled area known as Doughty's. This is nearly all under water, and the crops have been completely ruined. In the hollow where the road leads down going out towards Fig-tree there is over half a mile of deep water.

INDOOROOPILLY POCKET.

On Saturday afternoon the river broke clear across the Indooroopilly Pocket, and the posi- tions of many of the families there became very serious. Mr. Graham Hart's boat was ob- tained and conveyed by dray to the pocket, and rescue work in earnest was commenced. Messrs. Arthur Feez, W. Hart, Tyler, Griffith, and Carr, jun., toiled very hard until late in the evening, and rescued about 120 persons. The work was very trying, but had the little band not persisted many lives would have been lost. Yesterday all over the pocket there was nothing but desolation. The full force of the current passes over nearly the whole of the area, and the receding water will show nothing but ruined homesteads. Eight houses were swept clean away—Palmer's, Penman's, Gormley's, Birr's, Glennie's, P. Carmody's, Blasdall's, and Dieball's. Glennie's was one of the prettiest places in the pocket, and was most carefully farmed. Only the tops of the great fig trees mark where the house and sheds stood. The sufferers from the flood in this locality have been temporarily provided for, but there are many without a garment beyond what they were wearing when rescued. The distress here will be very great.

ROCKLEA.

On Saturday afternoon when a reporter from this office visited Rocklea most of the residents had moved out of their houses and obtained shelter with neighbours. Boats were available, and at about 4 p.m. parties went out to bring Mr. A. Radcliffe and Mr. Moffatt with their families to places of safety. The water at 5 p.m. was up over the bars in the hotels. There will be much suffering and privation through the flood losses, but so far as can be ascertainod there has been no loss of life. Beyond Rocklea, on the Southport line, the flood has spread considerably. At Salisbury many of the residents have been driven from their homes. At Cooper's Plains, on the Beaudesert-road, communication was stopped by the flood water early on Saturday.

FATAL ACCIDENTS.

Several persons are known to have been drowned during Saturday, and it is to be feared other cases remain to be reported. At Swan Hill a 'bus driver named George Keogh went in a dingy with four others to rescue some clothing belonging to a friend, and when in deep water they capsized the over- loaded boat. Four of the party were saved, but poor Keogh lost his life. A man named Young, a vanman, lost his life at the rear of the Palace Hotel, Stanley-street, on Saturday night. It is stated that he was attempting to get a hold of some fowls which were swimming about in deep water, and got beyond his depth and sank. The body was recovered shortly afterwards.

A case of drowning is said to have occurred at Bulimba, but no particulars are available.

The water was over 7ft. deep on the road at Rosalie yesterday, and it had surrounded several houses. Amongst these is that of Constable Fagg, and as nothing has been heard or seen of him it is supposed that

he has been drowned.

The destruction of property between Melbourne-street and Montague-road is described as something fearful, houses being damaged and washed away in almost every case.

In consequence of the peculiar position of the city, flooded and without light, special efforts were made on Saturday night, to secure an efficient patrol wherever possible, and for this the police were strengthened by the members of A Battery, Permanent Artillery. On Sunday night, too, special arrangements were made, and at every point where a street was blocked with water a constable was stationed at either end to warn passengers.

On inquiry we learn that before sunset yesterday the police had satisfied themselves, so far as the city was concerned, that no person remained in any house exposed to immediate danger from the flood. The only exception to this was the case of a number of Chinamen in a house in Margaret-street, who refused to leave, though frequently asked to do so.

It is to be hoped that should circumstances unfortunately necessitate it the corporation will to-day provide suitable boats to enable persons to pass along Queen street, as the boat in use at Edward-street crossing yesterday was quite unsafe, and at Creek-street it was only at long intervals that the use of a punt could be obtained.

Capitão's log: The Intense

2011-01-04T01:25:00.003+11:00

What's the most intense, mind-shaking film you've seen? (Aside from I am Curious: Beige, of course). I'm thinking here of films that leave you thinking about it afterwards - rather than those that merely shock, or épater le bourgeois, as the French would have it.

I'm sure there's several I could name if I thought about it (which I haven't): but let me instead cite two Ive seen recently.

The first is Punishment Park, an extraordinary film made by Peter Watkins in 1971, using amateur actors in a way that makes Ken Loach look like a Fabian. Its a dystopian drama set in Vietnam war era US, which is extremely effective at getting ordinary people to act out a 'side' in a very divisive time (essentially cops and officials v detainees suspected of radicalism). The involvement of the film crew late in the piece kinda blew my mind, actually - at certain points it looked as though the "cops" were going to biff the film crew.

The other is Hard Candy: an ultimate revenge fantasy film to do with creepy internet stalkers and grooming.

Yikes! What a gripper.

Got any recommendations for an old seaborne web diarist?

Last Rites

2010-12-29T12:18:00.001+11:00

I was at the MCG yesterday: it certainly felt like the Last Rites on Australia’s era of cricket dominance.
Really, it ended a while ago, but Australian fans are finally accepting it now. Only England in Australia could truly bring that message home.And frankly, I for one am glad its over. At one point the dominance became positively tedious to watch.

I must say: the England fans, the Barmy Army, are an absolute joy to behold. Great, good-natured, imaginative chants, and hilarious piss-taking “eg God Save YOUR Queen. Long too-ooo reign over YOU!” LOL!! I almost wanted to join them (like most of the Kiwis at the match did, incidentally).

Meanwhile my compatriots were doing no better than “oi oi oi” or “[England player X] is a wanker!”. It was embarrassing to watch. Pick up yer damn act Australian fans!

I for one miss streaking and pitch invasions. That was Australian sport watching at its most irreverent and finest: a drunken nudist being chased by coppers. Surely that was what an Australian summer of cricket was really all about!

Now I fear we’re just dull minded, insular boors. Time for fans to take a good look at themselves too I’d say. Hopefully sporting failure will provoke some reflection. Doubt it though!

Good on you England – you won in the best of sporting spirits too. Remind us all how its done.

Capitão's log: The Horror

2010-12-18T21:22:00.001+11:00

What's the best of the Horror genre in yer opinions? I've never been an expert, and frankly, since the scariest film you'll ever in your life see isn't even in the genre (Rowan Woods' The Boys 1998), its probably a moot point.

(Incidentally, the Australian Screen Online site has an good linked essay on Horror in Australian Cinema).

Anyway, against usual inclinations, and on recommendations I've watched some crackers lately. The Japanese flim Ring (1998) is highly recommended from O Capitão's deck, and has some great ideas (which Hollywood naturally ripped off shortly afterward in an English language remake). John Carpenter's remake of the The Thing (1982) wasn't bad either, though it all felt a touch dated to me, having not seen it at the time. I was reminded to revisit The Sixth Sense (1999) as well, which really is a stonker.

Et tu?

Pas Malle!

2010-12-01T23:03:00.003+11:00

You know, for someone pretending to be Portuguese, I really do watch a lot of French cinema. My latest film obsession aboard the Fortaleza do Mar is Louis Malle.

Malle studied beside the master, Robert Bresson, and directed some of the most interesting French films of the 70s. Who else but Malle would direct Lacombe Lucien, an exploration of French collaboration during the occupation. More fine films include Murmur of the Heart; an absolutely hilarious and brilliant Bildungsroman tale.

I'm almost a bit scared to watch Damage, which currently looms of the port bow - I wonder how his work will translate to English language cinema.

Update: Woah! That was about as intense as watching a video gets.

Caravelserai!

2010-11-22T21:20:00.002+11:00

Yes, as part of my new seaborne web diary series, I'll be coming up with a new lameass compound pun every week. Stay tuned for more dubious segues from early Portuguese colonialism in Asia to my new obsessions with contemporary vids and books.

So, as you may know, I left Fort Solor and, glimpsing our fort of Lifau off the port side, headed southward. What books are currently on O Capitão's shelf, I hear you cry? Well might you ask. Once I'm done with Goodbye to all that, the following are in store for me.

Comments, and suggestions for first tract off the rack welcome. And any I really shouldn't waste time on too.

* signals considerable anticipatory excitement from me, based on authors previous work

** signals added anticipatory excitement from me, based on authors previous work AND known connection with early Portuguese voyages to Asia.

Roberto Bolano: 2066*, Amulet, The Skating Rink
David Sedaris: When you are engulfed in flames
Alberto Moravia: Contempt
Augusten Burroughs: Dry
Irene Nemirovsky: David Golder
Boyd Oxlade: Death in Brunswick
Jose Saramago: The Elephant's Journey**
JD Salinger: Franny and Zooey*

O Capitão's Cultural Caravel: All aboard!

2010-11-14T17:12:00.004+11:00

You know, it hasn't been easy here at Fort Solor, in my self-imposed exile in the Torre de Keating, with only the annual dispatches from Lisbon, the nervy security forecasts of Lt Amilcar, and six utterly incomprehensible Mirandese foot soldiers for company. So bugger it, I'm setting sail, solo - south to Luca Antara, following the last known voyage of Eredia.

What will I find? Who knows, but I'm travelling with a shitload of ill-bootten gotty: DVDs and books mainly.

So, its ahoy and bemvindo to O Capitão's Caravel de Cultura. I've decided to turn this blog into a seaborne semi-diary of random cultural notes: primarily on books I'm reading, and films I've been watching. Partly because I tend to quickly forget films I've watched, I feel like I should start keeping records.

Beware, marinheiros, the seas ahead could be choppy, or dull and placid. I have no idea. Frankly, I can't promise we'll see land. But anyone who sails with me on BmL shall be my brother (and/or sister); be s/he ne'er so vile! etc...

Ill be back later with the first shipment.

Update:
Yeah, so, like, a few notes. Any thoughts, comments, logical next steps welcome, as I piece together Western civilization and modernity, artefact by artefact, in a ill-informed way.

Lately, I has been mostly been.... putting a newborn to sleep, frankly. But in between:

Livros e Revistas: Thought I'd revisit Robert Graves Goodbye to all That, which Ive not read since my teens. Erudition, and the compelling first hand accounts of WW1. Its a powerful combo. Recently I finished Matthew Condon's Brisbane, which would probably be more exciting if you weren't already a keen student of that city's history, like your humble Capitão. I read Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer for the first time recently, and while I sensed the genius, it was all a bit overtaken by the genre (he had no doubt created) subsequently becoming more respectable and commonplace. I found myself a bit whelmed - although there were quite a few passages of great genius, and I loved the character van Norden. I also resubscribed to London Review of Books after a long hiatus.

Filmes e DVDs: Its been Robert Bresson season round 'ere at Chez Caravel. Is there any director who knew better how to pace a story? A Man Escaped (aka Un condamné à mort s'est échappé ou Le vent souffle où il veut) must be the best prison escape drama ever; Pickpocket is impossible to turn way from, and his famous Joan of Arc (script based on the trial records) is also a cracker. Frankly, French 'old wave' was the go. This guy was a master.

'Jobs v environment' myth goes down in flames

2010-11-06T14:27:00.000+11:00

I was glad to see the coal-eating surrender monkeys failed to have California’s alternative energy targets delayed. Despite financial support from Texas oil companies fro Proposition 23, it seems Californians weren’t fooled by the idiot’s parable that ‘failing to act on climate change’ means ‘protecting jobs’. 61% were convinced these measures would in fact create employment. Even conservative counties voted it down.

Hopefully its the beginning of the end for the 'jobs v environment' myth. Time to kill it off!

Autobloganhedonia

2010-09-27T15:46:00.000+10:00

Its Latin, for 'profound loss of interest in own blog'.

What to do when Autobloganhedonia strikes??

Reform, or revolution?

Quit, or rekit?

Why the Citizen's Assembly on Climate Change is a dud

2010-07-25T12:55:00.006+10:00

Here's my top six concerns about PM Julie Gillard's proposed "Citizen's Assembly" to investigate Climate Change. Feel free to disagree, or add others!

Struth, how many mandates does the Oz public have to give the ALP?
What if the assembly decides no action should be taken? This victory for 'deliberative democracy' won't alter the fact that measures needs to be introduced. This alone demonstrates what a complete farce the idea is.
Is it just me, or is this a bit like asking the passengers on the Titanic for approve an iceberg report before further action is taken? Its simply delay dressed up as consultation.
The other policies announced recently suggest a full retreat from climate change action. New coal-fired stations, wtf? That's soooo 1995. Even the new car rebate business is taken from solar money. The assembly has to be seen in the light of surrounding climate policies: its a distraction and a con.
As the Republic issue in 1999 showed, the best way to kill an agenda which enjoys popular support, but which leaders don't want a bar of, is through exactly this sort of mechanism. Pick opposing factions, then you can claim “see, the public cant agree on an actual model” and you’re off the hook, despite the public clearly wanting it.
Real leaders build consensus – or least majority support – around an agenda for change. They don't follow focus groups around.

Unimpressed, of Keating Towers.

A brief ode to the $250 I won backing Spain in the World Cup

2010-07-12T15:43:00.001+10:00

Ole Ole
Ole Olaaaaaaaaaa
Porque España va a ganar!

Oi oi oi...vey.

2010-07-05T20:37:00.002+10:00

I'm in New Zealand, having a holiday with the family, and frankly... I'm outraged.

Everywhere I go, customary title over income-generating tourist sites appears not only to provide economic opportunity and employment for rural Maori, but also generates business opportunities for the general community through site lease arrangements.

Stupid Kiwis: can't they see its better to oppose native title and then whinge interminably about indigenous people on welfare?

The Light on the Hill

2010-06-27T15:31:00.000+10:00

Flags at half-mast

2010-06-19T02:34:00.003+10:00

This evening, it was my sad duty was to lower the fort flag.

Jose Saramago, Nobel laureate - and for us here at BmL - the greatest author of the last thirty years, has died.

Vale Saramago - para nós, o maior escritor dos ultimos 30 anos.

Nós voce saúdam.

Return to us in dreams, companheiro

New Fort Design poll!

2010-06-17T14:33:00.000+10:00

Seems Lt Amilcar got on the beetle-nut while was I was out briefly (shoring up allegiances among the Topasses, and looking for Sandlewood). He's redesigned the entire fort.

Check the starboard bow, Marineiros, its a new poll!

Banksy

2010-06-16T00:21:00.006+10:00

"Any advertisement in public space that gives you no choice whether you see it or not is yours. It belongs to you. It's yours to take, re-arrange and re-use. Asking for permission is like asking to keep the rock someone just threw at your head" - Banksy

Check out more of Banksy's online catalogue here.

West Bank Barrier, Palestine.

Ned Kelly: 'Nobody knows anything about my case except myself'

2010-06-14T14:51:00.013+10:00

Sidney Nolan (1945). In my ill-informed opinion, the most evocative of the Ned Kelly series.

A Mãe de todas as Fortalezas - Torre de Belem

2010-06-06T21:48:00.020+10:00

As far as we here at BmL are concerned, this is a goddamn holy site. The mother ship. The mother lode.

The mother of all fortalezas.

All BmListas verdadeiras must - at least once - make the pilgrimage.

This is Torre de Belem.

In the pre-dawn gloom, Os Capitãos take early service in the Capella near Mosteiro dos Jerónimos - the final resting place of da Gama and Camões. They then pray to the Virgin of Safe Homecoming on the Torre that these are not their last steps on Portuguese soil, and board the thousand caravels of the great Age of Discovery.

From 1515 on, they will all hoist sail here, by the Torre, on the Tagus, in Lisbon. This Manueline masterpiece was first fort, then prison under the Espanhois *spits* (who call it "belem", when every true son knows its pronounced "blengggg") - customs house, barracks - but always, always a symbol of Os Navegados.

Built 1515-1521, UNESCO listed in 1983. Take off your tricorn, Lt Amilcar, where do you think you're at?

Welcome to the Jungle (2007)

2010-06-05T20:18:00.003+10:00

Well, I don't know about you, but I'd just about watch any film set in Fiji, PNG and West Papua. The fact that this proved to be an absolute cracker was just a bonus. Loosely inspired by the mystery surrounding the disappearance in PNG of Michael Rockefeller in 1961, this 2007 horror-thriller follows two US and two Australian backpackers through the wilds of New Guinea. In a Blair Witch project meets Deliverance style, they film their own progress as things get increasingly remote and freaky.

I won't spoil the ending, though I will note that the encounter with Indonesian guards at the West Papuan border provided a few thrills in itself. I also found the dialogue between the characters - as their own relationships deteriorate - well above average quality, and genuinely amusing. Nice to see the South-West Pacific feature in commercial film at any rate - even if it is through the 'undiscovered tribe' trope. Know any others?

At the Home of all Fortalezas

2010-04-30T20:47:00.000+10:00

Os meus BmListas...

Lisbon has called me home on urgent business, and I am currently encamped in Coimbra, reviewing my notes for a forthcoming text on Dutch shipping routes in the greater Solor/ Larantuka region.

Any urgent matters can be raised via the fort-gate suggestions box, and please feed João the tiger-cat if you see him out front. He likes ship biscuits best.

Oh, and tell Lt Amilcar I got him the 'O meu Capitão went to Torre de Belem, and all I got was this lousy camisa' he wanted.

Ate logo!

Vanuatu

2010-03-18T22:36:00.002+11:00

Its a beautiful place. Pray tell, punteros, why are we so ill-attuned to the Pacific in general? Particularly those among us - including your 'umble correspondent - who grew up in Quinceland? (I'm prepared to give Sandgropers a free pass on this one).

Is it a generational (X) thing? Were our colonialist forebears more engaged with those imperial territories before the waves of independence in the 1970s? Will the young 'uns be more so than us, owing to the recent Australian interventions in the so-called "arc of responsibility"? Is it because people my age encountered an independent Pacific and lost interest? Or is it simply a case of "hang on, I'm still getting used to the whole Asia deal - slow down!". Or is it something more prosaic, like low rates of travel, and therefore higher airfares? The latter is certainly a dated view these days, what with the decline of QANTAS monopolies in the region.

Anyway, I was there for work, but had one day touring the island of Efate; home to the capital, Port Vila. The bottom picture attests my nerdy interest in colonial history. As you may know, Vanuatu was formerly the New Hebrides and - unusually - under the control of the joint Anglo/ French Condominium (otherwise known as the 'Pandemonium').

But that's easy. Quiz time is harder than that! Whoever correctly identifies the smaller flag below the Tricoleur (not you, World of Yentl) is this month's Capitão do Fortaleza at BmL! (Click for higher-res, if you want a closer squiz.)

Your call is important to us...

2010-03-08T21:22:00.002+11:00

BmL is currently somewhere in the region and can't take your call. Please hold while our dedicated service personnel struggles out of his hammock, or leave a message below.

Ghosts of the Yeoman Dream: Lucky Country (2009)

2010-02-13T00:01:00.002+11:00

For this to me is what New Australia means, to the landless, the homeless . . . to those who long to be manly, to be true... Come together, in all unselfishness, to trust each other and to be free. To live simply, to work hardly, to win not the gold that poisons but that home life that saves....

I really never thought I'd see an Australian film open with the words of William Lane, the 1890s utopian socialist and teetotaler who took 400 Australians to Paraguay in 1893. Somehow the movie Lucky Country (2009) passed me by without a trace last year. But its a cracker. Best Australian film I've seen in years. Where Lane imagined a collective settlement in the heart of South America, this film is set on a harsh, marginal individual selection somewhere in Australian scrub in 1902. Australian land reform movements of the late nineteenth century did lead to some marginal property being forced from squatters hands by colonial governments, as a sop to the Yeoman dream: a vision of an agrarian society of smallholders, of a man and his family leading a stolid, moral life on the land, away from urban vice. Of course, in the land of the long white scam, most decent land actually went to the squatters' dummy bidders, and this sets the stage for the film: one Yeoman nightmare, shortly after federation.

The swaggies don't pass by anymore, but three Boer war veterans returning in failure from prospecting do. The rest I'll leave, in case you want to see it.

"Bet ya thought it was going to be all Henry bloody Lawson didn’t ya?".

You can see a trailer here.

Fort Temperança

2010-02-06T01:14:00.002+11:00

Here at BmL, we've taken the pledge. The Febfast pledge!

Word from the Capitão is: absolutely no drinking vinho verde and hanging out over the fort walls, yelling abuse at the Holandês, and/or any rebellious Topasses laying siege to our sandalwood booty, for four whole weeks.

Plan is not so much to raise funds for, um, whatever it raises funds for (haven't actually looked - but I will, and will totes donate some of the savings), but rather, to see if we can't erm, circumnavigate certain waist latitudes better after 4 weeks off the weekend boozing.

I'm glad they picked Fevereiro anyway. Only 28 days of this merda.

Ostraya Day: view from the fort parapets

2010-01-26T15:32:00.010+11:00

You know, I remember the good old days when having the Oz flag publicly displayed was a sure sign of either being an extremist Larouchite, a gun owner, or mentally unwell. Now its like, Gen-Y chic or something. Certainly, its become nativist protest wear - reverently displayed on on the boardies, a towel, or the car.

I'm starting to miss Australians' deep-rooted suspicion of jingosim - which as others have noted, dates back at least to the failed conscription referenda of WW1. I for one liked that Australia better - we support our volunteer soldiers, but you can take your compulsory imperial /militarist hoohaa and shove it, and the same goes for the ra-ra patriotism of the Yanks. Let's recall that the Australian people voted no to the imperial conscriptors twice; they stopped even asking us when Vietnam came along. Basically, I think 'the kids are alright', but they need to know the history.

And I'd really like to see an Australian politician say it: many Australians are wary of American-style showy patriotism and jingoism - but no less proud of the country for that. They wonder what someone wrapped in the flag is trying to flog them. I reckon it'd go down a treat. Knock this "nationalism-as-majority-ethnic-gang" bullshit on the head.

And one doesn't like to over-dramatise, but I do feel Cronulla kinda changed it for everyone. I'm not sure anyone contemplating a harmless little flag wave can truly avoid the new semiotics. For example, it concerned me that several non-Anglo background colleagues were saying "have a good Australia day!" yesterday as we left work - like that's necessary to say these days, or there'll be riots! There's something kinda fucked up about all this. And as another friend pointed out, it isn't so long ago that there was a general sense of ambivalence about the embarrassing Britishness of the flag. I don't know whats happened, but I miss the lack of popular resonance with our national symbols.

So I'll come out and say it: I for one am still proudly embarrassed by the bastard Jack. And guess what: this is my country too. And aside from flag-totin' bogan gangs intimidating other citizens on the beaches - I mostly love it. So step off with your kiss-da-flag bullshit.

John Birmingham's take is here.

Postscript: An ex-ADF friend of mine noted today that the military has been in a fully fledged recruitment crisis throughout the entire Howard-and-beyond revival of jingoism, flag-waving, Gallipoli trips etc. Much as I support not signing up – I think it aptly highlights the bullshit factor of the whole thing.

Northcote Local History

2010-01-20T00:30:00.002+11:00

For all you inner-North Melbournites, check out this ace online Darebin Historical Encyclopedia.

Its got pics, oral history, a WW1 database, and most interestingly of all, scans of the Northcote leader from 1888 onward.

Mind you, local history is probably only really interesting when you have a deep-rooted sense of place. To that end, I wonder if there's a South Brisbane equivalent?

Lingo Quiz!

2010-01-19T01:57:00.006+11:00

As you may know, we here at BmL are shallow cosmopolitan types - rootless Jacobites all. Stoics, Cynics, and citoyens du monde. As such (and given the need to facilitate trade in the greater Solor/ Larantuka region), fort command is quite interested in your second and further language pursuits.

So pray tell, what other languages can you speak, and how/where/why did you learn these? Also, which language do you wish you could speak, and why?

I'll kick off in the comments box, to give the illusion of traffic.

Et tu, liebe bloggers?

Meanwhile, right on theme: Flight of the Conchords!

On China at Copenhagen

2010-01-12T12:23:00.015+11:00

I was reading this piece by Thomas Friedman on China and the Green Revolution. Basically, it illustrates the sheer size and scope of China's renewable energy expansion and investment in the last year. And its further plans for nuclear expansion as well.

As Friedman notes, of course, China is doing all this for domestic reasons: energy security, and the fact that their cities are too polluted already to cope with the largest rural-urban migration in global history.

Though Friedman doesn't speculate on this in the article, it got me thinking again about China's tactics and strategy at Copenhagen. How does it all add up? The Chinese scotching a deal, not only for the world (worried it might limit their growth) - but also scotching the advanced economies setting targets for themselves, that reportedly so angered Merkel and others?

Now, I'm aware the US also played a deeply problematic role (by not playing ball on Kyoto) but it seems to me quite clear what is going on: China intends to sell us green technology down the line, not the other way around.

They don't want any competition from more advanced economies. Their diplomatic game in Denmark supported this aim - a simple old-school, realist game aim of scotching the industrial competition. The failure of Copenhagen is a long term investment in their export-income generating, industrial future. Note also the only position they did strongly advance - that there should be no trade sanctions to enforce any international deal.

I think they correctly assessed that key Western polities would - with the slightest encouragement- get stuck in a partisan cycle of inaction, and award China a big market niche by default. Influential players in the advanced economies would literally jump at the chance to come last in the green tech race, and all they needed was a bit of obstruction to fall over. China didn't even mind playing the villain - all the better, since falling over is so much easier when you aren't blamed for it. Cui bono?

Friedman's article points out there are now so many solar operators in China now the price of solar has dropped 70%. They're weak on R&D though. They know the West has the advantage there, but they also know there are big players who didn't want to see change. So they were most helpful in encouraging the West to delay any serious moves.

So, US, UK, EU and Australian mugs - you want China to get the leg-up on the 'Green Revolution'? Because that was quite probably their plan at Copenhagen.

And you fell for it.

'Brulliant rivolution: Two guys shitting themsulves un the bush'

2010-01-09T02:20:00.012+11:00

Haha! New Zealand, 1982.

If those two concepts aren't exciting you already, make sure you see Sleeping Dogs (1982), starring Sam Neill.

The premise is that a general strike occasions the rise of an authoritarian military government in New Zealand.

Repression and general mayhem ensue.

Sam Neill is your reluctant hero in the resistance. As it happens, its ekshually a great film, and the first NZ film ever screened in the US of Ay, Bro.

Natal Feliz

2009-12-24T23:49:00.006+11:00

Yes, it's that time of year when I offer BmL readers a hearfelt awkward blokey handshake/forced backslap/ "how about them [insert sports team]" combo.

Which is about as warm as it gets in the highly competitive and ever-so-slightly Aspergic Portuguese Forts in Asia scene.

As you know, we aim to make your blogging experience every bit as comfortable as meeting your new dad-in-law at the Cronulla RSL.

But seriously: Natal Feliz.

May all your forts be Luso-Asian.

The Parting Glass: Vale Liam Clancy

2009-12-09T23:04:00.008+11:00

Sad news from Ireland that Liam Clancy, of the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, has died. They made Irish music roll like no-one before or since, and Liam was their mainstay. Bob Dylan was a huge fan, and said of Liam “I never heard a singer as good as him ever. He was just the best ballad singer I ever heard in my life, still is probably.” Those who saw the Scorcese doco on Dylan will have seen him recalling Liam Clancy's exhortation to the young singer, then starting out in Greenwich Village: "No fear, no malice, no envy".

Great advice. (Not that Bob followed it.)

In any case, my old man played the Clancy Brothers over and over through my childhood, and I grew to love their rollicking, twee-free, passionate sound - and also the native wit and literary sensibility of their stage humour between tracks on the live albums. And at the old man's funeral, at his oft-repeated request,were sung Shoals of Herring and Fields of Athenry. The Liam Clancy versions.

And so, a parting glass, to the magnificent Liam Clancy. Slán agus beannacht leat.

Oh, all the comrades e'er I had,
They're sorry for my going away,
And all the sweethearts e'er I had,
They'd wish me one more day to stay,
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call,
Good night and joy be with you all.

Sir Henry Casingbroke on Wake in Fright (1971)

2009-12-07T23:38:00.007+11:00

Well, its Wake in Fright revival week here at BmL! Larvatus Prodeo regulars will no doubt be familiar with frequent contributor Sir Henry Casingbroke. His comment on my previous post was such an interesting reflection - not only on the film, but also on the outback 1960s/70s Australia it dissects - that I went ahead and got his ok to do it up as a guest post: the very first here at Chez Fortaleza! And if you're among (the happy few) to have been following recent posts on 70s Ozfilm, you'll already know Sir Henry had a minor speak role in an earlier film of Michael Thornhill's - director of The FJ Holden. Hat tip also to Sir H for linking to this marvellous review of Wake in Fright by Kate Jennings.

Sir Henry writes:

Wake in Fright is magic realism. Wake in Fright's central idea is that in certain parts of Australia (and surely elsewhere), away from cities, there can be a "magnetic" metaphysical anomaly that keeps people tethered in place is spite of a lot of good reasons why they should leave - inexplicably they can't, hence the nightmare.

The longer you stay there the more difficult it is to escape this gravitational pull, and soon, like Doc, you look back on a weirdly wasted lifetime. This becomes the in-joke of The Yabba where Wake in Fright takes place.

I spent 1969 in a mining camp just south of Darwin near Pine Creek and what happened to me was similar, including the spotlight shoot.

When I first arrived in the Top End people asked me how long I was staying - this was trick question - I said: until the Wet, it would be about 9 months; I was there to get a quick quid and get out. They looked at each other winked and laughed. Everyone arrived there just for a few months and end up staying 20 years.

The metaphysical reality layer superimposed on mundane reality (nothing is quite what it seems) brings with it the temptation to step away from normally accepted social mores.

In 1970 Australia was still rather Victorian in its outlook on the surface. But the more pissed you got, the wider the two realities moved apart. All sorts of things could be countenanced, including murder (if it was deserved), hence, out there another set of moral and legal rules kicked in. Hence the ambiguous and ambivalent character of the police sergeant played by Rafferty. Rafferty the actor no doubt perfectly well understood the metaphysical reality, as many Australians in the outback experienced it themselves as I did.

Films made around then dealt with that metaphysical duality were: Cars That Ate Paris, Homesdale, Picnic at Hanging Rock, and The Last Wave, probably others.

This other world is now much submerged and a lot of people do not understand what is being discussed in Wake in Fright. Therefore they waffle on, not being aware that it is a documentary. And not seeing why a lot of Australians found the film uncomfortable at the time - they knew what it revealed and they wished it was kept under wraps, especially to outsiders.

Wake in Fright (1971)

2009-11-30T00:04:00.008+11:00

Since I was a kid I've had a recurring dream of being on a beach, in light so bright I can barely open my eyes to see. This newly released on DVD classic of Australian cinema somehow captures that feeling - everything is yellow, red, light disturbs the characters, scrutinising their dark, more brutal sides. I've waited years to see Ted Kotcheff's film, and finally tracked it down on DVD. No lesser figures than Peter Weir, Bruce Beresford and Fred Schepisi regard Wake in Fright as the film that sparked the 1970s reniassance in Australian film making. The Cannes Film Festival has only ever screened two films twice: Antonioni's L'Avventura, and Kotcheff's Wake in Fright.

Though a critical success, it was apparently met by ambivalent public acclaim in Australia, with some audiences taking it all too personally, and a general feeling of "this isn't us". It certainly shines a light on male-dominated frontier towns of rural Australia - where men outnumber women and the stranger creates a rip in the fabric.

The performances are outstanding: as one critic rightly put it, Chips Rafferty as the local cop - in his final screen role before his death in 1971 - "exudes an unnerving intensity with a deceptively menacing and disturbing performance that ranks among the best of his career." Donald Pleasance is brilliant as an alcoholic doctor - and also claims my "best Australian accent by a foreign actor" award. Jack Thompson, Gary Bond and John Meillon round out the Australian all-star cast. This one will stay with me for a while. Would love to see it on the big screen.

Australian Screen Online

2009-11-20T23:50:00.004+11:00

You know, the Australian Screen Online site really is ace. Loads of great clips you can check - from all eras. And you can search via film type, decade, or by title. See the short hand-cranked Lumiere Cinematographe clips of Queen St Brisbane in 1899, or Kanakas working on the cane fields of North Qld, or the 1896 Melbourne Cup.

Or check the later clips of hard to find Australian cinema classics like Wake in Fright (1971). I could be lost in here for days. Send cheezels and jaffas!

Our Lady of Prosciutto

2009-11-17T22:53:00.002+11:00

Pure Shit (1975)

2009-11-15T23:34:00.005+11:00

Well let's face it, who isn't a little curious to see this film - banned then abandoned for a generation - about Carlton junkies in the mid-70s? Raided by vice-squad at its own premiere, this little underground film stayed that way longer than Ramos-Horta lived in hotel rooms. Its got it all: gritty intravenous realism, chase scenes, chemist break-ins, and excellent pre-fame cameos from Greig Pickhaver and Max Gillies. For all that, the scene-stealer is actually Helen Garner's hilarious appearance as a speed-addict, with advanced psychosis of the obsessive cleaning variety. There's even a social commentary poke at the earliest manifestations of the methadone program.

Australian 70s cinema. When will it be matched, let alone topped? I'm not holding my breath.

See the DVD trailer here.

Carpe pm: seize the afternoon

2009-11-03T23:57:00.010+11:00

Yes, if I can't sleep in, it ain't my revolution! etc. I don't know about you, but early's never been my scene. Indeed, I was just recalling the other day, when I was younger, in me carefree 20s with fewer responsibilities to other humans, my normal hours of sleep were 4am to 12pm.

Time and circumstance has modified all that, of course; now its 2am to 8.30am. Cutting back on sleep hasn't really led to any productivity gains though - I rarely have a sentient thought before 10am. My brain still gets 8 hours, though the body has learned sleep-dressing and transport management.

I can't really help it, and to be honest, I don't want to change. These hours of solitude and focus have been the most productive of my life. I reckon I wrote most of my PhD between 10pm and 1am. I guess I'd like to know there are others out there still staying up, despite careers and so on. Perhaps well into middle age!

For example, I suspect my men HET here, princes of Dutch 60s freakbeat, still kick it late*. Now that semester two is nearly done I'm hoping to be back here (at Fort Segue) more often. Check it out!

* Hat tip to my bro, aka The World of Yentl, for putting me on to this ace track.

Blog Action Day: 350.org

2009-10-16T11:40:00.005+11:00

So, I got an email this morning from 350.org saying its blog action day today. So this is the least I could do. (And never let it be said I didn't do the least I could do).

As you may know, BmL is a big supporter of the idea of direct citizen action on global warming. Leaving it all to governments is a dead-end street.

To that end, we here at BmL are sending a smoke signal to all coastal fortalezas in the greater Solor/ Larantuka region that October 24 is the International Day of Climate Action.

You can check local events in your area through this handy widget, which will hopefully embed below. There's a whole bunch of useful info here on why 350ppm is such an important goal.

Águas de Março

2009-10-13T01:07:00.005+11:00

Yes, rockin' the fortaleza with Sealab's version of Jobim's classic Águas de Março. Hilarious clip! Great song too. In fact, it was once voted the best Brazilian song of all time by, like, Brazilians.
É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho...

Municipal Solar?

2009-10-06T21:21:00.005+11:00

Ok, now let me run this scheme up the commentary pole and see who cheers (or jeers...)!

I've argued over at LP for a while that councils should look at developing municipal solar energy. That is, use the greater scale of council buildings, vacant property (and rates) to generate larger-scale solar power and feed it in to the grid at local area level. This would offer clear economies of scale in greenhouse abatement - that households can't hope to achieve - and produce larger volumes of power per dollar. Equally (by reducing net consumption of non-renewable energy across the municipal area) it would financially benefit all (both ratepayer-owners and tenants) by reducing household power bills in the mid to long-term. Households would receive the generated power as 'pre-paid' solar, at no further cost.

Households with private solar would get a double benefit, the rest would benefit by the effective socialisation of solar at the council area level. Perhaps they also could cut deals with state governments for the use of vacant Crown land.

Essentially, its a variant on the old school municipal socialism idea: in Britain in the late 19th and early 20th century councils were in the front line of creating public ownership of tramways, gas, waterworks and other utilities, using their greater collective buying power.

Fathers & Daughters

2009-09-29T22:47:00.006+10:00

So, I was chatting with my bro (in the normal, non-NZ sense) today, who is recently the father of a baby girl, and has a son a fair bit older. We were watching my daughter play, and I was talking about the relative lack of weight of expectation on father/ daughter relationships. When I'd raised the same theme at other times - prior to his daughters birth - it didn't seem to ring any bells for him - but today it did.

Of the four parent/ child combos, it really is the one least dwelt on by popular culture, psychology, home spun theory and general folk wisdom of the ages. And in my experience, that's been the great thing about it. Makes it a lot easier.

Of course, it's a relationship that can be majorly screwed up, like any other, sometimes in utterly horrific ways - but aside from those awful cases, there aren't a lot of negative stereotypes attached to it. 'Daddy's girl', for example, is fairly neutral where 'Mummy's boy' most certainly isn't. Then there's the inherent role-modelling pressure of of father-son, mother-daughter relationships; so frequently subject to the 'individualise-via-conflict' vibe, sooner or later. And no offence, Mums, but in my experience there's virtually no limit to the matters affecting a boy's life that his mother won't feel absolutely entitled to dip her oar in the water about. Even well into his 30s*. Bless 'em.

Whereas there's just no point even asking Dad about tricky girl-to-woman stuff. He won't have a clue. And most importantly: that's understood - by both parties.

Nothing to offer but love.

I hope no one gets offended by the above. But I write here in defence of father-daughter relationship. Against its broad cultural neglect. It rules.

* There is a some possibility the author generalises unduly from personal experience here.

Can't think of a new post...

2009-09-24T11:45:00.005+10:00

...cos I blew all my good material on facebook. But in the most lame-ass of comedic traditions, let us now ask "so....what's with that??".

I guess its a bit like fast-food, or 20-20 cricket. An instant gratification pigout that leaves you belching, bloated, yet ultimately dissatisfied. Not that blogging is exactly the French slow-food movement - but I do find that ideas I might previously have turned into blog posts (and thus subjected to a more sustained reflection in blog comments) now get frittered away on a quick farcebook update.

Which incidentally, I now refer to as 'Slide Night'. My theory is that farcebook is - in effect - a high-tech socially acceptable version of boring your friends senseless with pics of what you did on yer holidays. Except that they don't HAVE to look at them. In that sense, it fits neatly with shallow neo-liberal consumerist notions of 'choice' and 'liberty': it's all complete rubbish, but you get to choose which sandwich de merde is pret-a-porter.

Or am I reading too much into it? I've never Twittered. I can only imagine that's worse.

CO2 Counter

2009-09-13T23:47:00.006+10:00

So, I added a CO2 counter to the sidebar, which measure parts per million. Just to depress myself on a daily basis. Apparently 350ppm is considered the upper level of sane by most scientists. Oh look, its already 386. Naturally, we in Ostraya are basing current policy settings on a putative global aim of restricting it to 450ppm, which is totally effing visionary etc, except that it more or less guarantees disastrous climate change.

I need some good news on climate folks. Give me hope!

10 years after the referendum in East Timor

2009-08-30T13:31:00.008+10:00

30 August is a good day for Australians to remember that the so-called 'realists' in Canberra got it wrong for 24 years. I'm pretty sure a whole lot of them still think 'well, our strategic priorities just changed pre and post 1999, the cold war was over, and who saw that the New Order regime would collapse?'. I'm pretty sure they also think 'teh Left' were just a bunch of unrealistic and idealist whingers who accidentally got something right for once.

Au contraire. Along with saying the occupation was wrong, and a human rights disaster, the East Timor solidarity movements were also pointing to a critical empirical factor: Indonesia was not likely to succeed. How could a forced integration - with no basis in international law, unrecognised by any other state, with no respect for human rights, and implacably opposed by a nation of people - succeed in the long run? Its like the inevitability of a Palestinian state. Power cannot operate without legitimacy forever. Foreign policy 'realism' does not equate to pragmatism, how ever much the back-slapping defence and security circle-jerkers might fancy it does.

The major parties in this country were frankly out of touch with reality. They appeared to believe that just because it suited our imagined strategic priorities, a military occupation that could not even establish a monopoly of force after 24 years was some stable 'fact on the ground', that we all just had to live with. Let history record that the Australian people saw through it all first, and the 'experts' in Canberra followed.

I hope the lesson is not lost. Justice matters in international affairs. Foreign policy 'realism' does not make you realistic.

Abigail's Party (1977)

2009-08-25T14:44:00.006+10:00

Its no surprise to me that Mike Leigh's early film for TV Abigail's Party (1977) was rated 11th in the 100 Greatest British Television Programmes. I saw it recently, and it truly is a magnificent precursor to that excruciating but hilarious genre (self-important-type-makes-constant-arse-of-self-in-public) that later spawned classics like The Office.

I also think its a toss-up as to whether Prunella Scales of Fawlty Towers or Alison Steadman's potrayal of Beverly is the origin of that classic UK aspirational lower middle-class female character that ends every sentence on a patronising "okaayyyy?".

In any case, I can only agree with the Channel 4 reviewer who said that Abigail's Party "still ranks as the most painful hundred minutes in British comedy-drama." Its compelling, peek-through-your-fingers-while-you-cringe viewing. Also interesting are the class dynamics between the five characters, flung together by post-1960s suburbanism and Britain's rising lower middle class.

100th Post Commemorative Yabber

2009-08-12T23:03:00.016+10:00

You know, when first my Caravel navigated these bloggy waters, armed with nothing but an Astrolabe, orders from the Leal Senado in Macau, and a rough Portolan of the last known voyage of Eredia (handed me by a marooned Marineiro in Solor), it was impossible to tell what adventures might lay at the end of the cartographer's wind-rose.

So many forts in Asia, so many lattes, and so many forts in Asia later, and... sadly... os meus amigos, its time to hang up ye old blogging mouse, and sail into the unknown waters of Luca Antara.

Hoho, just kidding! What a classic blog cliche, the threatened departure! As if. You and I both know the Portuguese forts in Asia scene has never been hotter. And I didn't come this far to yield the parapets and hoist my lateen sail for Lisbon, just because of some pesky lack of widespread interest in my deliberately obscure blog. You didn't see the Forte São João Baptista administrators abandon their post, just because they controlled less than 100 sq foot of territory, and no one sent them a letter for 200 odd years, did you?

No, and likewise, we're made of sterner stuff here at BmL.

Instead, let's dwell briefly on life as a small blog. Here's some random stats, in lieu on any actual desire on my part to analyse it properly.

Days since first post: 588. That's a post every 6 days. So don't tell me I never get ya nuthin!
Number of visitors: 4279. That's a massive average 7.3 per day! Those stats don't include me either - only genuine vistors. Somebody call google ads, we've got a live one!
Number of comments: 460. Subtracting the 40% that are mine (which is how it tends to go) that's a monster 2.7 punter comments per post. Mother, hire a letter-opener!
Record number of post comments: 24. Twice! Renegotiate the 1856 border, Capitão, this enclave ain't big enough!
Number of CPLP Countries on my counter: 4 full members (Portugal, Brazil, Mozambique, East Timor); 1 associate member (Macau); and 1 associate observer (Senegal).

Aos novos fortalezas! Até a vitória sempre!

Man, 41, seeks new word for partner

2009-08-04T20:32:00.005+10:00

I don't know about you, but I reckon its high time we thought of a better word for one's main squeeze, when you aren't the marrying kind.

Now, if you're married, no problemo. 'Husband' and 'wife' are fine old terms if you ask me. Stood the test of time.

But for those of us who aren't into marriage (and let's face it, that's now a bunch of us - possibly a working majority for all I know) the options are poor.

I'm sorry, but I find the contemporary frontrunner 'partner' so completely lameass, I cringe every time I even think of it.

'Howdy, partner! Soooo-eeee!'

'Defacto' tends to run in second, but that sounds like you're making do until something better and more formal comes along; presumably a de jure occupant of your bed.

Recently, I've gone back to 'girlfriend', after dropping it some time back in the early 90s. Its mainly for a laugh, in explicit rejection of you-know-what, but secretly, I quite like it. It makes me feel youthful as well, and has done wonders for my complexion.

But really, I can't keep trotting that out for the mother of my child.

....OR CAN I??!!!

Alternatives welcome.

Roger East's Final Communique from Dili, December 1975

2009-08-02T23:07:00.005+10:00

I saw Robert Connolly's film Balibo last Monday at the Melbourne International Film Festival. Its a magnificent work of Australian cinema - the best I have seen in many years. Both historically sound (respected East Timor academic and justice campaigner Clinton Fernandes was the historical consultant) and dramatically set at perfect pitch. The treatment is neither overplayed nor overwrought, the dialogue remains tight and realistic throughout. As a result, the impact of the dramatic climax stays with you long after the film.

As readers of this blog might recall, I once visited Balibo, and its a beautiful, quiet town on a mountain, with a long view down to the border between Batugade and Indonesian Mota'ain. The Balibo House Trust - funded by the Victorian Government - now owns he Chinese house and runs it as a community learning centre. Also involved are the Australian Friendship Group, the Friends of Balibo.

I reproduce here Roger East's final communique from Dili in December 1975. He was murdered on the Pertamina Wharf in Dili - along with scores of East Timorese independence leaders and supporters, including Nicolau Lobato's wife - by invading Indonesian forces on December 7, 1975.

Australia's nearest neighbour, tiny East Timor, has cast the die. It's 'Independence or Death', a western cliche, but here a daily salutation - and the Timorese people mean it.

The mortar that binds the East Timorese is the thoughts of Independence after 400 years of colonial rule. They will settle for nothing less.

Fretilin's army is basically anti-colonial, strongly Catholic-tinted and, not surprisingly, has many vehement anti-Communists in its midst.

Djakarta has elected to win support from its nervous neighbours by attaching the Red label to Fretilin.

However, Fretilin's initial planning is a blending of socialistic and cooperative policies which would appear natural for a colony bereft of secondary industry and winning only a subsistence existence from the soil.

Membership of Fretilin by Australian standards would include thinkers from the centre to the extreme left - the latter in a fringe grouping in the Central Committee.

Secretary of the East Timor Department of Foreign Affairs, Jose Ramos Horta, admits the committee's views vary on many issues, the sole exception being independence.

"I expect to see a multi-party set up in East Timor after we cross the present hurdle.

"We are a tolerant people who have waited a long time for the democratic process. We'll share it when it comes."

Fretilin believes the Governor, Colonel Lemos Pires, now living on the Island of Atauro, the St Helens of his choice, aided and abetted the UDT to stage its ill-fated August coup.

Fretilin had been told of the coup plot and a request to the governor to disarm the plotters is said to have been turned down.

Fretilin was defenceless when the fighting started and its members hounded, jailed and some murdered. UDT lost when the Portuguese-trained soldiers defected in favour of Fretilin.

UDT's leadership is now split three ways. Some are languishing in Timorese jails and others in the more comfortable surrounds of Australian cities.

The remaining standard bearers are in Indonesia, hosted and promised a triumphant return, albeit in the wake of mortar bombs.

Their platform of independence, which over a year ago saw them in a political alliance with Fretilin, is now abandoned. They are opting for Indonesia after 450 years of Portuguese domination.

Apodeti, the party pressing for union with Indonesia, is a bad bar-room joke. Its political rallies could be staged in the proverbial ten by four room which includes a table.

Founder and President, Arnold Araujo, 62, a respected horse thief, is currently being detained at Fretilin's pleasure.

The Portuguese jailed him for nine years for war crimes committed against the Timorese during the Japanese occupation.

This leaves only Fretilin which wants to embrace an offer of a United Nations supervised plebiscite.

East Timor's problems grow daily. Its primary ricebowl in the Maliana Valley is now a battlefield. Other crops have been destroyed or neglected in the turmoil of the fighting. Hunger is a reality and starvation a growing threat.

Pijin blong Solomon

2009-07-26T16:56:00.009+10:00

Here's a few pics of signs and ads in the national language of Solomon Islands Pijin. I must confess I didn't pick up very much after one week in Honiara - only Lukim yu (see you later) and Tanggio tumas (thanks very much). Oh, and Solomon Islanders say "set" a lot - to indicate that everything is good or fine.

I'm told that Solomons Pijin, Tok Pisin of PNG and Bislama of Vanuatu are all mutually intelligible - effectively creating a pan-Melanesian lingua franca.

Oh, and mind where you chew your betelnut, tanggio tumas.

Back at Work

2009-07-22T15:15:00.014+10:00

And can't be arsed!

I've had a great couple of weeks in the Asia-Pacific region on various work missions, followed by a short holiday in Rio de Brisbaneiro - which was just long enough to get the flu, basically.

Back at work now, and not doing a very good job of impersonating someone who cares about semester two, and its looming deadlines. Sniffle. Groan.

I guess I'll sleep my way out of this slump over the coming days. Any tips on how to appear engaged?

Anyway - check it out! On my spare day, I snorkeled on this wrecked WW2 Japanese landing craft at Ironbottom Sound near Honiara, Guadalcanal, in the Solomon Islands. Full of coral, rainbow fish, and the rusting detritus of Imperial visions.

Ironbottom Sound, as you may know, is so named after the sheer number of US, Japanese (and one Australian) vessels sunk there in the Battle of Guadalcanal in 1942 - widely regarded a major turning point in the Pacific War, and the first major allied victory over the Japanese. There's an impressive US memorial on the hill above Honiara, which commemorates the major sea and land battle to capture Henderson airport and other Japanese-held areas of Guadalcanal.

Auto-reply: Out of Office

2009-07-12T08:07:00.003+10:00

BmL is currently out of the office, and at large in the region. Any urgent matters can be raised via the fort-gate comments & suggestions box, below, and will be attended to by a special intergovernmental taskforce, in due season.

New Favourite Blog!

2009-06-25T22:17:00.007+10:00

Here at BmL, we're having a party! Inviting all our friend!
(We've only one, but she's a larf, she lets us all attend).

Namely, our new favourite blog: Strange Maps. Check out this marvellous specimen of Salazarist craziness, for starters.

And while you're at it, ooh, its the E-cyclopedia of Portuguese Expansion.

(Don't wait up honey, I may be some time.)

Head waggling at Reis Magos

2009-06-14T18:51:00.013+10:00

Its been too long between forts, O meu Capitão! Hove the lateen sail and noon-point the sextant for the latitude of Reis Magos. First built in the late 1500s, this fort swathed in wild forest overlooks the Mandovi river and the lovely town of Panjim, former capital of the (rather ostentatiously named, given its size) Portuguese Estado da India - now capital of Goa state, India.

Reis Magos (the 'Three Wise Men' in Portuguese) is a small village across the river, consisting of a Church, a small village, and this very old fort which once guarded entry to the capital.

The main thing I recall about it - aside from the pearler of a view - was my arrival inside the walls, after climbing the steep, crumbling stairs. Two local guys were sunning themselves, half asleep, and we all surprised each other at awkwardly close proximity. The thought pattern at that instant was probably much like this:

Me: Shit - two men, isolated spot. Are we friendly?
Them: Shit - look at the size of that Gora. Is he friendly?

It was then that I recalled a favourite passage of Gregory David Roberts' Shantaram, which I was then reading. In it he explains that the classic Indian side to side 'head-waggle' (for want of a better term) is in fact a gesture of general affability and friendliness. So I tried it on. And blimey, it worked! They both relaxed visibly, and one said "hello - you seem nice!".

Aside from the cross-cultural gesture awareness breakthroughs, it was a great fort too! Some classic cornice sentry boxes, as you'll see. If you're ever in the area, I'd recommend the semi-hidden Reis Magos over the larger and better known Fort Aguada nearby.

'I gits a stretch fer stoushing Johns' - The Sentimental Bloke (1919)

2009-06-06T23:35:00.015+10:00

I've just seen the DVD reprint (with soundtrack by Jen Anderson) of Raymond Longford's classic silent film The Sentimental Bloke. Normally bored and already squirming in my chair by the very idea of silent film, I was quite taken with it - it really is an engaging movie, capturing the wonderful vernacular of C.J. Dennis' verse novel.

C.J. himself (who had only published it 4 years earlier) appears at the start of the film. The main female lead (Lottie Lyell) was the de facto partner (and reputed co-director) of the credited director Raymond Longford, who you can see interviewed shortly before his death in 1959 on the extras. When a print of the film was rediscovered in the 1950s and re-released, he was found - then in his 80s - working as nightwatchman on the docks.

There's some great footage of Manly and Wolloomoolloo after the war, including a genuine digger in the background on the ferry as Bill and Doreen go on their first date. I really enjoyed it, and partly, if you'll allow the digression, because I once recorded an album at Jen Anderson's studio back in my musician days. A friend and I - both in other bands at the time - recorded a lowly independent CD there as a two-piece with some spare songs our respective outfits weren't using. He suggested Jen Anderson's studio - then in Northcote - where his band had recorded before. We both lived in Brisbane then, and it was a great week down here recording and louching around with muso friends and acquaintances.

Ten years later and I live a few streets away - though Jen herself has moved elsewhere in Melbourne. Suffice to say, she really was a great producer and sound technician - and I am truly blessed - as a part-timer then, and no longer in the game - to have Jen Anderson's violin solos on a song or two of my own. It really lifted the whole thing to another plane - and made it sound like I knew what I was doing. Which, by and large, I didn't.

Coming from Brisbane, I didn't realise then how BIG her band Weddings, Parties, Anything were in Melbourne. We went to a party and met them all - they were really great people. Top memories - thanks Jen! Whatever you're up to now. Anyway, the point is: I think the sound track is beautiful, and works seamlessly.

Oh yeah - and the title of my post. Watching Underbelly this last year, I got to wondering where this "Jacks" slang for coppers had come from, as I 'd never heard it. And lo! They appear as the "Johns" in C.J. Dennis. Mystery solved?

The Origin of Tuesday

2009-05-31T09:25:00.006+10:00

Miss LE (etymological warrior, of but 5 summers): Daddy, what does Friday mean?
LE: Its named after a God from the olden days, sweetheart. Freya's day, a Norse Goddess.
Miss LE: What's Norse?
LE: Norse means from Norway.
Miss LE: What about Wednesday?
LE: That's Woden's day. Another Norse God. All the days are named liked that, or after the sun or moon. I don't know what Tuesday is named after though.

[pause]

Miss LE: ...it sounds like Cheese.
LE: Ok
Miss LE: Yeah, there was a Cheese man in the olden days, daddy.
LE: [LOL outbreak]
Miss LE: And he was a God. The Morse God of Cheese. OK?
LE: [pulling car over to recover] OK sweetheart.
Miss LE: .....Why are we stopping?

Best Screen Devil Ever?

2009-05-25T23:12:00.002+10:00

Bedazzled: Drimble Wedge & The Vegetations (1967).

The House of Cassel

2009-05-18T23:53:00.026+10:00

As I may have mentioned at other times, I love it when freaky Kismet-style shit comes across my desk, here at Keating Towers.

For some time Ive been a great fan of Jean-Pierre Cassel (above) - the roguish, charming French lead in such greats as Luis Buñuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie (1972), and Claude Chabrol's truly ace Hitchcockian classic La Rupture (1970). (Incidentally, both films also star my only genuine silver screen crush, the haute and magnificent Stéphane Audran). Cassel also played the classic dastardly Frenchman role as Pierre Dubois in Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines (1965).

Alors, well then... meet his son: none other than Vincent "La Haine" Cassel. Who knew? And there he is, playing the same sort of roles. Quality French gear like La Haine, and devilish Frenchmen in more schlocky Anglo-productions like Ocean's Twelve.

I love it when things make sense!

*rocks back and forth imperceptibly*

Global Graffiti #1

2009-05-17T16:07:00.022+10:00

Go to Spain/Abortion: Lisbon, 2007

'Rua Salazar' street sign, several regimes old, with local commentary - Liquica, Timor-Leste, 2009

No Nukes, Isle des Pins, New Caledonia, 2004.

www.350.org

2009-05-10T13:18:00.004+10:00

Well, this is more like it! In line with recent rants here at BmL, this looks like a good forum for direct global citizen action on climate change.

You can register new actions online. There even a map showing all the actions taking place around the world. A lot of big names are on board, include Monbiot and David Suzuki. Bill McKibben is currently on a speaking tour in Oz.

I must say, I don't see any power station blockades there (yet!!). But like I say, if Copenhagen can't get us to a scientific minimum - that's what's gotta be next! In any case, the 350 idea is good, and the program of mobilising citizens rather than states is exactly what's needed, IMHO.

Don’t leave it up to pollies and scientists!! Or nothing will happen!

On state failure and responsible global citizenship (or, not another climate manifesto!)

2009-05-03T21:40:00.010+10:00

As I was arguing (slash ranting!) recently over at Larvatus Prodeo, if our governments at Copenhagen fail to at least meet the scientific minima for a fighting chance of our grandchildren having normal lives - then we as global citizens ought to declare 'state failure' on the issue.

Namely:

1. That we declare we are ruled by failed states that no longer protect human life (let alone liberty and happiness) and that,

2. As our ‘representatives’ in fact appear to represent the passing, epheremal and irresponsible interest of damaging industrial elites, rather than their consitutencies, that we, as responsible global citizens, will take collective action to,

3. Obstruct key exemplars of the most polluting industries in each of our countries, in non-violent, globally co-ordinated acts of civil disobedience, such that,

4. Disruption of the most polluting industries becomes a constant inconvenient truth about unsustainable energy practies.

Honestly, I wonder whether our descendants will look at us as young Germans view their previous generations: what did you know, and what did you do then, Grandad? The scientific evidence very strongly suggests they wont have lucky, pleasant lives like ours - thanks to our failures. We’ll be cursed - some as criminals (major polluters, professional apologists like Howard and Bolt) and the rest silently questioned - what did you know, then?

I know we’re all hopelessly inadequate as individuals (well, I certainly know I am) but stuff it. Let’s get up them! Let us question - U.S. style - the fundaments of any alleged ‘right to govern’ while the most basic rights, truths we hold self-evident - are in constant breach.

To the Women of Australia (1915)

2009-04-25T23:32:00.011+10:00

James Henry Scott, 19, of Cloncurry, QLD, enlisted in August 1914, in the first few weeks of the war, and was drafted to the 9th Battalion. The 3rd Brigade of the 9th was the covering force for the ANZAC landing on 25 April 1915, and was the first ashore at around 4.30 am.

He did not live to see the sunrise.

When my grandmother died in 2005, I inherited this badge, 'To the Women of Australia'. My grandmother's writing is on the card. James was her uncle.

This badge possibly went first to his sister, my great-grandmother, as their mother is referred to as the 'late' Catherine Scott in military grave records. Or perhaps James' mother died, grief-stricken, between 1915 and the formal headstone finally being laid at Gallipoli. I don't know.

There's a lot of respect, a lot of ceremony, and a lot of remembrance of WW1 these days - but I'm not convinced any of that truly captures what must be been the real legacy in the decades that followed: the grief. This badge - and the 61,720 like it - is a small reminder of the unbearable personal sorrow that must have rent this country, town by town, street by street, room by childhood room.

Prime Ministerial Trivia

2009-04-19T11:16:00.007+10:00

I've just been mucking around on the National Archive's Australian Prime Ministers site - and from there I bring you the following trivial notes about each of them, selected on the highly scientific basis of what interested me most within 10 seconds:

Edmund Barton : nicknamed 'Toby Tosspot' by the Bulletin.
Alfred Deakin: only PM to reject title 'Right Honorable'.
Chris Watson: First Labor PM in the world, established the solidarity rule by which he was expelled from the Labor Party. Youngest ever PM at 37.
George Reid: only Australian to serve in all three legislatures – colonial, Commonwealth, and British; first former Australian PM to die.
Andrew Fisher: first Prime Minister to hold a majority in both the Senate and the House of Representatives, in 1910.
Joseph Cook: initiated first double dissolution of Commonwealth parliament, dubbed ‘the most humourless’ of the prime ministers.
Billy Hughes: 51 years as an MHR – the longest serving Australian federal parliamentarian. This does not include his prior 7 years as a NSW MLA 1894-1901. Woah!
Stanley Bruce: we all know that along with John Howard, he is one of two Prime Ministers to lose their seats while in office - but did you know he was the only Prime Minister laid to rest in Canberra?
Jim Scullin: first Catholic Prime Minister, and (possibly not entirely unrelated to the first fact) the only red-headed PM.
Joseph Lyons: first PM to win three successive elections, and with Reid (NSW), one of two PMs to have been a State Premier (Tas). First to die in office.
Earl Page: one of the first Australians to own a car (in 1904), record for the shortest official stay in Britain – 1 day (1925).
Robert Menzies: one of three former Prime Ministers awarded Japan’s Order of the Rising Sun, First Class! The others are Edmund Barton and John McEwen.
Arthur Fadden: PM for 6 weeks, but longest serving acting PM (nearly 2 years) while Menzies was tarting around Britain between 1949 and 1958.
John Curtin: the only Prime Minister to have been in jail (as an anti-conscriptionist in 1916).
Francis Forde: shortest term in office at eight days. On 11 July this year, should he make it, Whitlam will beat Forde's record of 92 years as longest-lived former PM.
Ben Chifley: refused to wear ceremonial clothes and became a Privy Councillor in his own suit in 1945.
Harold Holt: was a federal parliamentarian for 32 years - the same duration as Robert Menzies.
John McEwen: record for longest service in parliament before becoming PM (33 years). Holt 2nd at 30 years. Naturally, Menzies is the origins of these complaints.
John Gorton: only PM sworn in while a Senator, for three weeks was PM without holding a seat in the House of Reps. Only PM to have a non-Australian wife (American).
William McMahon: despite being 2nd oldest to become PM at 63 (McEwen oldest at 67), fathered his youngest child while in office. 'Respek!', as Ali G would say.
Gough Whitlam: only Prime Minister to grow up in Canberra, though spent the earliest part of life in Melbourne. Will (hopefully) become the longest-lived Australian PM on July 11 this year. Go Gough! Its time!
Malcolm Fraser: in 1955 was then the youngest MP to ever enter parliament - 25 years old. Keating matched this in 1969. Came to office with greatest winning margin in federal history (1975), and lost office with (joint) largest ALP victory in 1983.
Bob Hawke: 1983 win roughly ties with Curtin's 1943 win for largest ALP winning margin ever.
Paul Keating: third longest serving federal treasurer, after Costello and Fadden. Consequently, 2nd longest serving treasurer to ever become an Australian PM. ;)
John Howard: only Liberal Party Prime Minister educated in government schools, campaigned for the Conservative Party in Britain’s 1964 election. Other rare distinctions include losing his seat while in office.
Kevin Rudd: info on site "under development". But here's one: he used to clean Laurie Oakes' house while a student at ANU. Ewww!

Failed Federal Election Slogans 1951-2007

2009-04-11T18:47:00.012+10:00

Election slogans tend to be left motherless at the best of times - even winning campaigns are generally sick to death of them by the end. And naturally, losing slogans are well and truly consigned to to the dustbins of history. So, I did of bit of scratching around, and found them in a journal article, cited below. A few initial comments and curios:

Check out 1969! It practically sounds like an invitation to an orgy - possibly at Don's Party.
The second slogan from 1998 ('Australia deserves better') was a recycle of the winning slogan from the winning 1993 campaign.
Curiously, Menzies won in 1949 with "It's time for a change" - which demonstrates that the most famous electoral slogan of all was not exactly an original.

I can't decide which is the lamest. I think it might be the utterly colourless "Go for Growth" - though hot contenders would also include the bizarre brain-fart that was "Incentivation", the ever-irritating "Ease the squeeze", and perhaps the rather pointless and weird "We're not waiting for the world" (huh?). Anyway, here they are, in all their glory!

Year - Losing Party - Slogan/s
1951 ALP - What Labor promises, Labor will do

1961 ALP - Labor puts people first

1963 ALP - Time for Action

1966 ALP - Vote ALP and End Conscription / What Price Freedom

1969 ALP - Labor: Where the action is / Join the swing to Labor

1972 LNP - Right today and Right for your future/ Not Yet

1974 LNP - Think again

1975 ALP - Shame Fraser Shame/ Advance Australia Fair

1977 ALP - Get Australia Working / Uranium: Play it safe

1980 ALP - Raise the Standard

1983 LNP - We're Not Waiting For The World

1984 LNP - Stand up for your family. Vote Liberal

1987 LNP - Get in front again/ Incentivation (and also 'Joh for PM')

1990 LNP - The answer is liberal

1993 LNP - We can do it…together / Labor’s got to go/ Fightback

1996 ALP - Leadership

1998 ALP - A Safe and Secure future for all Australians / Australia deserves better

2001 ALP - A Secure future for all Australians / That’s what I stand for

2004 ALP - Opportunity for All Australians/ Mark Latham and Labor: Taking the pressure off families/ Ease the squeeze

2007 LNP - Go for Growth

Source: Sally Young (2006), Australian Election Slogans, 1949-2004: Where Political Marketing Meets Political Rhetoric, Australian Journal of Communication, 33(1):pp 1-20

Roadgames (1981)

2009-04-05T22:48:00.004+10:00

I don't know how I managed to miss this film for the last 28 years (and as it happens, my first parent-less venture to the flicks was in 1981, at 13) but what a stonker this film is! Not only is it a great suspense/ thriller, but its also an hilarious script.

In fact, I seem to have managed to overlook director Richard Franklin completely. In order the rectify this omission, Ive got Patrick (1978) on the shelf for next viewing. Tarantino is a big fan, sez the DVD cover. Hmm.

Anyway, despite the slight element of cringe that might have come with having two US leads (Stacey Keach and Jamie Lee Curtis) in this otherwise very Australian film, it really worked for me at all levels. Ive always liked Keach - very underrated actor, and he's a laugh riot in this. Pure genius of a performance. Check the scene backdrops too - there's a weird bar scene on the Nullabor - and the walls of the pub have murals of an extremely eerie kind. Graffiti in a roadstop toilet too. Very pre-History Wars. Wont spoil it for you.

Five lattes, with a biscotti on the side. Even Ms LE liked it, which, like, totally never happens. In fact, she reckons my taste in film is a low point of our otherwise higher scoring, pike position with a double twist, difficulty 3.7 relationship. And frankly, thats why I talk to you, dear imaginary blog friends (oh look - zero comments) about film instead...

All under control

2009-04-04T02:26:00.009+11:00

International Carbon Tax - Talk me out of this manifesto!

2009-03-31T00:11:00.010+11:00

Ok, unless someone tells me why this is insane and can't possibly work, I'm going to start an anti-global warming campaign based on the following principles:

An international carbon tax will more effectively alter behavior than 'cap and trade' schemes - which as far as I can see, tend to be shot full of holes and free giveways to the biggest polluters, and are above all, highly complex.
The carbon tax need to be global, in order to prevent industries moving to non-signatory countries, which tends to discourage all action.
Therefore, to secure widest possible agreement, the carbon tax needs to be low to start off. Even US$10 per tonne to start with, if it secures agreement.
Countries only pay it after exceeding their per capita based allowance. This gives the large population developing countries like China and India an equalising advantage - which corrects for historical emissions, dominated by the developed countries. It also keeps genuinely low emission countries unburdened.
Funds administered by an international climate body (ICB) which spends it on carbon remission programs based on the sole criteria of where net global emissions can be best reduced.
All emission-saving technological advances are licenced under the ICB, and supplied free or at cost. Profits are instead paid to developers royalty-style, by the ICB, based on annual net emission reductions from the technology, and funded by the carbon tax. This retains incentive to develop new technologies, while keeping it affordable for installation.

Comments/ modifications/ jokes at my expense welcome.

France plays Germany

2009-03-29T23:26:00.004+11:00

Unlike the staff here at BmL -who possibly comprise the entire membership of the France Gall Appreciation Society (Bureau d'Australie) - you may not be aware that the wonderful France was also big in Germany. She had quite a few German language records, and a decent career east of the Maginot line.

Frankly, all the German period songs are crap - except this one. I quite like Computer Nummer Drei (1968), despite its naff premise of a computer dating future (pfft ... as if!).

Der Computer Nr. 3
sucht für mich den richtigen Boy,
und die Liebe ist garantiert für beide dabei.

But that's not why I'm showing it here. Frankly, this clip ist der Uber-LULZ!!1! (as they say on the German internets). Viz, check the audience going off at 0.45 and 2.05. Woooohah!

Not drowning, walking

2009-03-22T22:40:00.011+11:00

I'm just returned from a 40th birthday up in the Grampians. Check out today's surf at the Rocklands Reservoir, which supplies Horsham in north-west Victoria.

Locals say it was full 10 years ago.

You know, whatever happens with global warming, I have a feeling northern Victoria ain't going to make it. Even in the seven years I've lived in Victoria the regional lakes have basically all dried up.

The Castle's "we're going to Bonnydoon" song (1997) may yet prove something of a cultural requiem for lost water recreation zones of southern Australia.

Brisbane: Before the Saints & Go-Betweens

2009-03-16T00:41:00.008+11:00

Growing up in Brisbane didn't always seem so great at the time. The big bands didn't drop through, pot was not only illegal but seriously draconian penalties attached, and demonstrations were essentially banned. I remember going with Mum to bail my old man in 1978 after after one of the endless - and illegal- civil liberties marches. Queensland, police state, demand the right to demonstrate. That's etched in my mind. Ten years later it was me at the demos, and everything was still the same. On the street and the state is not neutral. Chanting the same as my Dad had. Intoxicating... frightening. Then the inevitable blue shoulder charge, and we're running down the slope through Albert Park, someone's screaming. Its scarcely credible in retrospect.

What a hick town.

I'm so glad I was there.

The first gig I went to as an adult was at the Roxy (now the Arena) in early 1986 - I think it was the Huxton Creepers. I was 17 and the Valley by night was intoxicating. Its still had a serious air of danger then - and halfway through the gig I witnessed a classic pre-Fitzgerald Quinceland scene. To my left one of the walls in the Roxy literally opened up, and out strode Gerry Bellino, puffing on a fag. Behind him I could see an illegal casino, hidden in the walls. He didn't care, he spoke to some staff and casually sauntered back in. The door closed and the Creepers played on. Business as usual.

Anyway, among my Dad's records which were otherwise exclusively 50s jazz was a Brisbane band. Who knows upon which of the 1000 balmy, narcoleptic nights of adolescence in '80s Brisbane I first played it - but this magnificent track has always stuck in my mind. Before the Saints, and the Go-Betweens there was Carol Lloyd and Railroad Gin. Dad must have seen them live circa '75 and I suspect, been as blown away by this track as I was: Matter of Time.

Worldometer

2009-03-10T20:45:00.006+11:00

Ever wanted to keep an eye on the world's daily population growth? Keep abreast of the tonnes of CO2 gas emitted today? The amount of water consumed, or renewable electricity produced? The number of days left to the 'end of oil'? Or quantity of bicycles produced? The number of undernourished, or obese people? The number of blog posts, or emails sent?

No? Well check out the Worldometer anyway. And watch it all click over, before your very eyes.

Haneke

2009-03-08T16:35:00.004+11:00

Now, I'm not in the business of tarring entire nations here at BmL, but think its fair to say that Austria has enjoyed more than its fair share of sociopaths, high-profile xenophobes and general weirdos. To the casual observer, there might seem to be a disproportionate number of persons imprisoned in cellars for decades; an eerie succession of extreme Right leaders (who, it turns out, are secretly gay and having it off with each other); and perhaps a revisionist 'well it wasn't us' attitude which permits parties that would be considered extremist in Germany to be defined as 'centre-right' affairs.

So, what's going on in Mitte-Europa? One of my favourite directors, Michael Haneke, an Austrian himself (though born in Munich) clearly wants us to know just how weird shit can get when you're landlocked between Germans, Swiss, Italians, Magyars, Slovenes and Czechs. Oh, and Liechtensteinians.

I really liked Hidden (2005) so I started checking out his back catalogue. Aside from the well-known The Pianist (2002), there's some really intense and disturbing psycho-dramas such as the gripping Funny Games (Austrian version 1997, remade by Hollywood in 2008 - see the original is my call) , and the seriously screwed-up (and true) story of an Austrian middle class family's inexplicable group suicide: The Seventh Continent (1989). More cheery fare is offered in his examination of a mass killing at an Austrian bank 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance (1994) - the third movie in his self-titled "glaciation trilogy".

I guess it doesn't sound all that appealing now, now that read over the themes! But I must say I'm rarely so mesmerised by the small screen than when Haneke directs. Can't wait to see what he's up to next.

Is as an tAstráil mé

2009-03-04T00:49:00.005+11:00

That's, "I am from Australia", in Irish. Pronounced more or less like this: iss ass on tass-troyl meh.

Personally, I like the Irish word for England: Sasana. You can practically hear it being spat from the lips, any time between 1169 and 1922.

If you liked that, why not go hardcore, and listen to the above in all three major dialects of Irish Gaelic? I know I did!

The Slap

2009-03-01T13:27:00.005+11:00

So, I fairly chewed through Christos Tsiolkas' The Slap - which in itself is a good sign. I don't know about you, but I tend to .... dawdle ... when I'm not enjoying a book.

Tsiolkas writes about modern Australia, kids, parenting, intern-generational misunderstandings, culture shifts, especially in migrant communities. Wow, that's like, relevant n' shit to my life, and I could relate. Its not rocket science really is it? I don't mean to belittle his achievements by saying that - but it has to be said that not every modern Australian author gets this wee marketing trick. Importantly, I feel, he doesn't take the the modern obsessions with work and parenting as some sort of given, but as a culture to be written about.

Plus, as its happens, I live in the suburb in which it is primarily set.

Anyway, I liked it. That said, I do believe the chapters are of varying quality, depending on how far the author is from the characters themselves. In my humble and ill-informed opinion, the three chapters on the Greek-Australian male characters are absolute masterpieces of contemporary Australian writing.

The chapter on the older character Manoli I found especially moving. Growing up as a lad in West End, Brisbane, my best friends were Greek-Aussie kids. I always found their parents utterly mystifying, actually. I could never get a slightest bead on where they were coming from, with anything really. Nor did I understand the deep political splits within Greek Australia either, until I was older, and worked out that the first-generation socialists and royalists truly hated each others guts - and that was why there were three Greek clubs in West End (one for each faction, and then the "Greek club" - where the rule was you couldn't talk politics). The Manoli chapter had me right back in the Kokoris household - with an inkling of what my friends' parents must have been thinking the whole time. Thanks for that, Christos T - it actually meant a lot to this Skip to revisit all that through your eyes.

That said, I have some minor quibbles. To be honest, I'm not sure the female character chapters work as well - and maybe that's about the author's distance from those characters. Secondly, I found the Hugo character a bit exaggerated. He's like the worst 10 behaviours you've ever seen from any 4 year old rolled into one 'strawboy' character. This has the unfortunate side-effect of prompting something of a "moral panic" style inquisition of modern parenting which is - frankly - hyperbolic. I might move in certain circles, etc, but I find modern parents far more reflexive, ironic, and plain disciplinarian than Tsiolkas allows for the purposes of this book. But what the hay - inflating the issue allows him to investigate a theme that is without doubt interesting and engaging. Good writers should be agents provocateurs, no?

Doorways of Tunis (2006)

2009-02-23T21:48:00.009+11:00

Deux Oiseaux

2009-02-19T01:26:00.005+11:00

So, if you're up late preparing a course for Semester One, then we are deux oiseaux of a feather. I don't know if I've ever mentioned how much I love France Gall on the blog before [*cue game show buzzer sound*] but this is a tres happy song, which is a fine brain curative for those currently locked in a steamy tryst with a course guide, of no fixed endpoint.

And I'll tell you another thing, the French have got this much right: plurals are groovier when ending in "eaux".

Oecussi

2009-02-15T23:50:00.012+11:00

Diak a lae, lattistas? I'm just back from my latest trip to Timor-Leste, and this time I managed a quick visit to the East Timorese enclave of Oecussi, hidden away in Indonesian west Timor province.

Its a beautiful little jewel, peaceful, enclosed by emerald mountains. Lifau is the site of the first landing of Portuguese traders in 1515, and fifty years later, of the first Catholic mission of the island of Timor (Dominicans). This was the capital of Portuguese Timor until local uprisings pushed them eastward to Dili in 1769.

Above, an old Portuguese foreshore mansion in Pante Macassar, burnt out in the 1999 violence, with the mountains behind; and below, a mid-twentieth century monument to the first landing of Portuguese spice traders, at Lifau. Behind this monument is a long canal ditch - built in the 1600s to allows boats to be protected within the walled fortification.

Chew My Chai #1

2009-02-02T23:38:00.030+11:00

Yes, Chew My Chai! A new line in short, sharp reviews here at BmL. Two-lines max on DVDs, novels, music. Just how you like it: hot, and brief. And also just how I like it, cos I'm lazy. (PS If anyone can think of a better name for the series, I'll use it.)

Moofys
Fair Game: 1986 Ozploitation at its not-so-bad-really-est. Influenced Tarantino's Death Proof I hear. Main star married John Denver. Will keep you watching.

Slogan: Surprisingly good 1969 French film with Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin. They met on set, so it all led to Charlotte, and is thus to be applauded. Ooh oui Je t'aime etc.

L'Enfer: From Chabrol, French master of intellectual thrillers, and also renowned Hitchcock scholar: a gripping peek at the wobbly line between jealousy and mental illness.

Buchs
His Illegal Self: Peter Carey's latest. Hmmm... Is it just me, or is this promising scenario involving 60s underground radicals in fact a disjointed tale, with uninteresting characters, that leads absolutely nowhere? Big fan. Disappointed.

Muzak
April March and Los Cincos: I know you were all wondering what April did after being in the Shitbirds. Well its this. I tink its noice.

PS Ta to Sam the Dog for the winning title!

Lusobeats #4: A minute's silence

2009-02-01T02:55:00.008+11:00

For the master. Para O Mestre.

That's right: Keeping it highly real, here at BmL. All the choice cuts.

Thanks a Pantload...

2009-01-29T23:54:00.004+11:00

...to the junkie loser who broke into Keating Towers today, stole my new Acer Aspire mini-laptop (mine for but 10 summer days), took my daughter’s piggy bank, and worst of all - made me miss the one-time-only Triffids reunion gig I was just about to go to with a friend, when Ms LE rang with the news.

However, the final victory of this long, blistering summer day is mine. My four year old made it all better with this line: "daddy, tomorrow I'll get out my magnifying glass, and we'll solve this mystery...".

HAHAHA! Take that junkie loser.

Oh and cheers to the phone guy at Ticketmaster for the full and immediate refund on the Triffids tix he organised, against their own general refund policy. Really wasn’t expecting that touch of humanity on a paint-peelingly torrid 43 degree day like this.

Adelante.

Clueless of Cronulla spams for 'Straya

2009-01-29T20:57:00.011+11:00

A friend of mine got this email uninvited today. Listen to this hapless drivel:

Australia- The Right to Leave

IMMIGRANTS, NOT AUSTRALIANS, MUST ADAPT. Take It Or Leave It! I am tired of this nation worrying about whether we are offending some individual or their culture. Since the terrorist attacks on Bali , we have experienced a surge in patriotism by the majority of Australians.

However, the dust from the attacks had barely settled when the 'politically correct' crowd began complaining about the possibility that our patriotism was offending others. I am not against immigration, nor do I hold a grudge against anyone who is seeking a better life by coming to Australia . However, there are a few things that those who have recently come to our country, and apparently some born here, need to understand.

This idea of Australia being a multicultural community has served only to dilute our sovereignty and our national identity. As Australians, we have our own culture, our own society, our own language and our own lifestyle. This culture has been developed over two centuries of struggles, trials and victories by millions of men and women who have sought freedom. We speak ENGLISH, not Spanish, Lebanese, Arabic, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, or any other language. Therefore, if you wish to become part of our society, Learn the language!

'In God We Trust' is our National Motto. This is not some Christian, right wing, political slogan. We adopted this motto because Christian men and women, on Christian principles, founded this nation, and this is clearly documented. It is certainly appropriate to display it on the walls of our schools. If God offends you, then I suggest you consider another part of the world as your new home, because God is part of our culture.

If the Southern Cross offends you, or you don't like 'A Fair Go', then you should seriously consider a move to another part of this planet.We are happy with our culture and have no desire to change, and we really don't care how you did things where you came from. This is OUR COUNTRY, OUR LAND, and OUR LIFESTYLE, and we will allow you every opportunity to enjoy all this.

But once you are done complaining, whining, and griping about Our Flag, Our Pledge, Our National Motto, or Our Way of Life, I highly encourage you take advantage of one other great Australian freedom,'THE RIGHT TO LEAVE! If you aren't happy here then move on! We didn't force you to come here. You asked to be here. So accept the country YOU accepted. Pretty easy really, when you think about it.

*****

Where do I start with you witless chumps? 'In God we trust' is not 'our national motto', Brainstrust - its the American national motto. And Florida's, for that matter. We haven't even had one since "Advance Australia" was taken from the coat of arms in the 1920s.

So listen up here, Daniel Boone, of Bondi: if you don't like our own, non-American, fair go culture: the door's over there mate. Cop ya later!

And if you want to rampage pissed on beaches, chuck rocks and attack defenceless passers-by minding their own business - you're not welcome in our democracy.

Oh, and when we've got the maturity to have our own flag and head of state, I'll start taking you so-called "nationalists" seriously. You just look like little BNP Bovver Boys to me; waving a Union Jack around. Only with surfboards.

Multicultural Australia: if you don't like it, vote to change it. I don't like your chances, but you're welcome to exercise that right. But don't ever forget this: you weren't 'here first' either ... were you now?

Update: Ah, its all a 2nd-rate cut and paste job from US crazies. Talk about undesirable aliens! Septic Patriotism is best left where it is, Straya.

When I get down to Hobart...

2009-01-25T23:43:00.009+11:00

So, did you know that "the problem with human flesh is that, while rich in protein, it never really satisfies hunger because of the lack of carbohydrates, which provide energy"?

Well, read about it here in this excellent precis of the story of Tasmanian convict and cannibal-by-circumstance (later by choice): Alexander Pearce.

Of course, I've just watched the The Last Confession of Alexander Pearce tonight, and it was a stonker! Great script, great performances, and a fine dramatic soliloquy or two from Pearce's confessant. The film doesn't trouble the scorers at a neat 60 mins, and is faithful to the ripping yarn it is. From memory, Fyodor issued a heads-up on this medium-length film back at the Wreck of the Batavia: Why no film? thread. And let it be known that he was right!

Which brings me back to the theme. Come on film Australia, check out The Last Confession of Alexander Pearce. Its all feasible. And there's so many great Australian historical tales to be told. The themes are often universal - which is presumably part of the sales pitch you want to hear. I've already suggested the Batavia... and here's a few more, for nothing, just off the top of my head.

Australian historical films that must be made include:

* Pemulwoy and the Eora resistance 1789-95.
* Battle Mountain: The Kalkadoon resistance in Nth QLD
* The Castle Hill rebellion (although a mini-series partly addressed it in 1978)
* The Great Strikes of 1891. Sure, Sunday too Far Away is a classic, set during the 1956 shearers strikes. But those were tame as! In 1891 half of rural Queensland was on fire, and the QLD colonial army and assorted militia were sent in.
* The Battle of Brisbane, 1942: Can we handle an all out two-day brawl between Diggers and American GIs, which wrecked downtown Brisbane, and was hushed up by wartime authorities? Yes we can!

Lusobeats #3: Tin Tin por Tin Tin

2009-01-18T02:56:00.016+11:00

There is only one master of Bossa Nova.
há somente um maestro de Bossa Nova.
His name is João Gilberto.
seu nome é João Gilberto

Update: I was a bit pissed when I posted this marvellous Bossa song, and I couldn't then be bothered adding this comment. Which is this: Faz favor, don't go buying those cruddy "Bachelor pad" style Bossa Nova compilations. Brazilian Bossa Nova became a real fad in the US circa '62-'65, and some truly dreadful covers and chintzy rip-offs were made.

Ok, yes, they're twee etc in that "look, I'm a hatstand" way, but its not Bossa. Não é bossa, compreende? If you really must hear the genre in English, I can recommend Antonio Jobim - who wrote his own lyrics in English. And he's great. Samba on one note is a premier example. Trust me, no tweemonger translated that for the hatstand market - Jobim rewrote the English lyrics himself.

On Pseudonymous Blogging

2009-01-13T23:27:00.009+11:00

Every now and again the issue of pseudonymous blogging gets thrown around. For or against! Why aren't you 'accountable' etc? I've had that a couple of times - and I've seen it laid on other noms-de-plume when things get heated in blog debates. I'm not sure its a very good line of approach with anyone in that situation. I mean, who the crap is "Harry Smith" (his own ACTUAL name etc), after all?

I certainly don't criticize anyone who chooses to blog under their real name - I admire them in fact. It shows a certain durable surety of personhood: i.e. in all weathers I will write exactly as I will be pleased to account for in the cold light of day, tomorrow morning.

Screw that! I blog pissed too often to want that sort of straitjacket, thanks. And to be honest: I work as an academic, and would certainly be a lot more restrained on some issues, if blogging under my own name.

Is that inauthentic of me? I don't think so - in fact, I rather think the opposite. I work all day in an environment that requires some methodological rigour. I might be good, bad, or indifferent at it, but as you might imagine, I don't write like this in journal articles. Nor do I rant at max velocity (of four spelling errors per line) at my students, like I sometimes will on the big blogs. Me, I come blogward to blow off steam, relax, shoot the shit, have a larf. And sure, to say what I really think - albeit in a bone lazy way.

And that's my point, against the occasional charges of inauthenticity: blogging under my own name would, I fear, ultimately make me less honest. Precisely because it would make me more 'accountable'.

And you know, I didn't come here to be brought to account. So sue me!

That said, any moniker does tend to have the effect of creating a character over time. In my case, Lefty E (formerly know as Lefty Elitist, before the forces of evil were routed in the culture wars *wink*) is probably more of mannered, idiosyncratic character than I am in person. But hey, I've grown to like him - and the Keating Towers of his mind, in which he dwells.

Incidentally, he's not so big on Portuguese Forts in Asia - the wanker! That's me. Whoever I am. Not that its that hard to find out, I imagine. But lets face it, its all more fun this way, wouldn't you say, Harry?

April March - "Chick Habit"

2009-01-09T18:35:00.010+11:00

You know, sometimes I don't feel quite so culturally adrift in this world when groovy, kismet-style shit like this comes to my attention. A memo from emissaries in the land of popular culture landed on my desk recently, and from it I learned that Tarantino's film Death Proof (2007) has in its soundtrack none other than an English adaptation of my very fave France Gall track Laissez Tomber les Filles. Posted previously here at BmL.

Its by groovy April March, a big fan of 60s French Pop herself, and its rendered in Anglais as "Chick Habit". Not a direct translation, and not as good as the Gall original (as if!) - but still a corker!

Plus, if you've always wanted to see a bunch of hot babes beat the living crap out of Kurt Russell, this clip's for you.

Update: Cha! I just watched the DVD, and aside from one slow patch in the middle, where you meet a whole new set of characters, its a riot. The last 10 minutes ought to be sent into space on one of those intergalactic messenger craft. Wooohah! Oh, and you get April March's version of the French original too, which of course, rang my cloches.

Oh Myanmar

2009-01-08T00:09:00.003+11:00

Um. Learn more about Burma. The van Halen way.

This will go down on your permanent record.

Frost/ Nixon

2009-01-05T00:20:00.005+11:00

If anyone was thinking of giving this movie a miss, perhaps thinking (as I did) that it was just some rehashed historical drama with B-plus grade actors, and a ready-made script, I'd urge you to think again. Its completely riveting!

It made me want to search around for snippets of the original interview (now out on DVD, I hear). Some of the original money material is below.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-01-01T01:36:00.008+11:00

In 2009, I promise to:
* listen to more France Gall
* watch more 70s Australian film
* visit more Portuguese forts in Asia

Hoho! No, but seriously, I resolve to:
1. Argue less, and yell less when doing so (born and bred on conflict models, you see)
2. Lose weight; though losing height might be as realistic.
3. Live to the point of tears (Camus); or at least to the point of mild chafing.

Happy 09, punters! Aos fortalezas!!

Magic Realist Moment

2008-12-24T23:32:00.008+11:00

You know, I'm a bit of a fan of magic realism. Not as a genre, really. Its more that I happen to be a fan of both Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Jose Saramago, and both authors happen to be - more or less - in the magic realist realm.

And here's a magic realist moment, from my own back catalogue. In 1998, after training a few disability support workers in Toowoomba, I was driving back home, down the mountain towards Brisbane. As I passed through Gatton, or thereabouts, and the only car on my side of the road, a huge cloud of white butterflies emerged from the fields and floated across the highway. Sheets of fluttering white wings in the yellow sunshine. There were literally thousands of them, tossed like flotsam on air currents, a mass folding in on itself, expanding, contracting, swerving, fleeing, like an airborne school of fish.

There were so many of them that after about ten seconds, I could no longer see, and had to switch on the windscreen wipers. Driving at 100 kilometres per hour, wiping away white butterflies like snow.

True story.

Grandfathers and War

2008-12-17T00:30:00.020+11:00

I don't know if anything particularly profound will emerge from writing this, but, inspired by Pavlov's Cat, I offer this reflection on my grandfathers. Seen here enlisting for service in 1941.

On the left, my paternal grandfather, who I never met, though he survived the war. A sapper in the 9th Division, he was wounded in action at the 2nd Battle of El-Alamein in 1942. His casualty record blithely states "Cas Sect. 28-10-42 wounded in action. Confusion, hallux. Evac 2/3 AFA". The 28th October was a critical day in battle against Rommel. He had two shrapnel wounds from a shell, and was evidently found disoriented.

More mundanely, and no doubt demonstrating the constancy of stress, his record shows he was sectioned several times with hemorrhoids. Jesus, I can well imagine. By 1943 he was in Port Moresby, having returned on the fleet that Curtin brought home for the Pacific War. My dad recalled hiding under a bed when his father returned in 1946, yellow with malaria, and scary to behold to 6 year old eyes.

His occupation was listed as 'labourer' upon enlistment. He ended up life as a publican, however. According to my Aunt, he rescued a young solider at El-Alamein whose old man was a Brewery magnate. She remembers their family pulling up at their house after the war to give my Grandad a chance at running a pub.

It has occurred to me before that this near random chance event just might be one key reason I was born securely middle class. He certainly wasn't. Born in Bolton, Lancashire, to cotton mill piecers. The twisted sea of fate!

On the right my maternal grandad, the one I knew and loved all my life. He died a few years back at 91. I met his older brother at his 90th birthday, and also met his near-centenarian mother when I was very young. A teacher, and a Captain in the Australian militia (Citizen's Military Forces), he was transferred to the AIF when a friendly doctor reversed an earlier decision on a childhood spinal injury. He served in Bougainville and once fled his tent on instinct in the dead of night to see it explode seconds later. A grenade had been rolled in. He mentioned the war only twice in the thirty odd years I knew him. Once was that grenade story. The other was when he was a bit tipsy and maudlin, and before he shook it all off, quietly let out that he had found himself covered in a dead mate's blood and body parts after one attack.

He was allergic to any and all tropical foods. "Only since the war", said my grandmother.

No wonder they wanted a quiet life.