henri nouwen on prayer

Henri Nouwen on why it's so hard to pray:

Prayer is the act by which we divest ourselves of all false belongings and become free to belong to God and God alone. This explains why, although we often feel a real desire to pray, we experience at the same time a strong resistance. We want to move closer to God, the source and goal of our existence, but at the same time we realize that the closer we come to God the stronger will be his demand to let go of the many “safe” structures we have built around ourselves. Prayer is such a radical act because it requires us to criticize our whole way of being in the world, to lay down our old selves and accept our new self, which is Christ.

Amen, Henri.

commonwealth games rugby 7s

The first thing you notice is the security. My goodness, what security. Efficient, but massive. We got there 10 minutes early, and looked for a while like getting in at least half an hour late. Luckily the no-bags line was empty, so even though I had a bag, I was waved through there. At that point, I had to remove every object from my pockets, and lay it out on the table. Everything. Then they searched my bag, and I'm not talking a cursory glance - I mean they pulled everything out of it and shook it. Then they went over me with one of those metal detector wand things. And they did this for pretty much every person who went through (though I undoubtedly got it because I look shifty).

So we got in there only about 5 minutes late, meaning we missed the first half of the first game. No matter: there were still 11 and a half games still to play, and by the end of the night, I was well and truly done.

Rugby 7s is pretty intense at the best of times, but when you watch it for four and a half hours, it does get a bit much. Having said that - wow. For just fifteen bucks we got four and a half hours of rugby. And not just rugby - 7s rugby, which is faster and more intense than regular rugby, with the same amount of scoring in roughly 1/6 of the time. Seven a side, for seven minute halves. So good.

We saw the pool matches, so we saw every side in the comp play at least once, and several of them twice, including the Aussies. Poor Sri Lanka were just awful, although it was lovely to hear the crowd back countries like them and Uganda and others who really were comprehensively outclassed. It was slightly amusing to watch them backtrack down the field when they had the ball though.

Fiji are the world champions, and looked it, even though they ended up with bronze (beating Australia for it). England and New Zealand ended up playing off for gold and silver, NZ triumphing impressively.

I did discover though that I have waning, if any, patriotism. I remember after I did my honours year in philosophy, I was invited to a discussion with a bunch of Masters/Doctorate students, who were supposed to encourage us to go on to their heights. I found it interesting at the time, and obviously still do, but one of them was doing their thesis on the concept of nationalism - allegiance to others based on what are essentially fairly abstract ideas like the fact that I live more proximately to you than others. This is less obviously strange in Australia which is relatively isolated, but it's positively bizarre in places like Europe, where even my ethnic group could well extend across the border of a particular country - yet I'm still supposed to have some allegiance to my country over those people. It's an interesting idea, and that was the first time I'd heard it questioned. Now I tend to agree in a lot of ways - I'd far prefer Fiji or Samoa or someone to win than Australia. Does that make me unpatriotic? Maybe. But somehow it doesn't bother me.

being saved

Turns out it’s happening after all.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw Craig Turley (ex West Coast Eagles player) on Compass, talking openly about his own spiritual journey. He’s been through some really rough patches, and continues to struggle, but has come out the other side with a rather interesting and beautiful spirituality. At the end, the interviewer asked him, “Are you happy?” It’s a perennial question: the subtext being (at least for most of us), “Does this spirituality really work?” His answer was fascinating, and while I don’t remember his exact words, it was along the lines of, “I don’t seek happiness. Happiness is a fleeting thing; fulfillment is what I’m after. Sure, I’m happy sometimes, I experience joy, but those times don’t last and it’s not realistic to expect them to. I seek fulfillment.”

It coincided with an article in the Age talking about how the idea that life is about maximising happiness is a relatively new cultural phenomenon, perhaps only a hundred or two hundred years old. Yet this is the overwhelmingly predominant view in our society; not just that we should seek happiness, but that we have a right to it. We are entitled to be happy, and that’s all we should seek to do or to be.

Interestingly (as an aside), I read today (again in the Age) that there is a direct correlation between how fearful people are, and how much television they watch. The more television someone watches, the more likely they are to own a gun, have security on their house, and assume that they will be victims of violent crime. Happiness, it seems, is not to be found with television (but you already knew that ).

So we had a bit of a tough week this week, one that culminated with the confronting question, “Why have I been expecting this to be easy?” What kind of screwed up view of the world made me think that we’d achieve our goals quickly and easily, without pain or suffering, without despair and discouragement at times?

I mean, this feeds into everything I’ve learnt (in my head) recently about Christianity – that it’s not about the absence of suffering, finding the easy road – indeed, it’s very often about your proximity to suffering that makes for a healthy, fulfilled, well-adjusted Christ follower.

Part of that was helped by Leunig’s prayer (from my previous post). When you’re broken, down and out, defeated – that’s when you relinquish control and gain perspective. If only we (I) could cultivate such humility more often, that perspective would remain.

When I ask myself “Why do I assume that life will be easy?” the answer is basically because I believe, deep down, that I am entitled to be free from pain and suffering. And that’s a fool’s quest – at its best, it’s delusional; at worst, complete arrogance.

So I started running again yesterday. I’ve been wanting to be fitter physically for a while (read: less overweight) but frankly, I’ve been a little scared of what I do to myself when I go after physical fitness. One of my personality traits (which, as with everything, is both a strength and a weakness) is that I find it difficult to do things by halves – it’s either all or nothing. So I tend to exercise until my legs want to drop off. Thus, I have developed an aversion to exercise – or at least the kind that means I end up hurting. I’ve tried going the other way and starting slowly, but have found that I end up doing very little at all – certainly not enough to have an effect.

I’ve realised that it’s not the tendency to exercise hard that’s the problem – it’s my attitude to the pain it causes. So that’s what I’ve altered. And while I must say it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear (running 7kms on legs that haven’t run more than 10 metres in the last 5 years was never going to be easy) it does make persevering worthwhile. And hopefully in the process I learn more about what it is to deal with pain and suffering in a constructive way.

the KKK took my toilet away...

Sorry for the thinly veiled Ramones reference (maybe it could refer to those Krazy Kids from the Kouncil?), but they finally came today to remove the portaloo from next to our house. Police are looking into the disappearance, but so far they have nothing to go on *snigger*. Thus ends the saga known as “Portapalooza”.

Goodbye, old friend.

leaders' demons

The other day I was having issues and came across this passage in Let Your Life Speak. It just struck me as incredibly and deeply true of me, and so I keep it here for future reference.

If we, as leaders, are to cast less shadow and more light, we need to ride certain monsters all the way down, explore the shadows they create, and experience the transformation that can come as we “get into” our own spiritual lives. Here is a bestiary of five such monsters…

The first shadow-casting monster is insecurity about identity and worth…When we are insecure about our own identities, we create settings that deprive other people of their identities as a way of buttressing our own…

A second shadow inside many of us is the belief that the universe is a battleground, hostile to human interests. Notice how often we use images of warfare as we go about our work, especially in organizations. We talk about tactics and strategies, allies and enemies, wins and losses, “do or die”. If we fail to be fiercely competitive, the imagery suggests, we will surely lose, because the world we live in is essentially a vast combat zone.

Unfortunately, life is full of self-fulfilling prophecies. The tragedy of this inner shadow, our fear of losing a fight, is that it helps create conditions where people feel compelled to live as if they were at war. Yes, the world is competitive, but largely because we make it so. Some of our best institutions, from corporations to change agencies to schools, are learning that there is another way of doing business, a way that is consensual, cooperative, communal: they are fulfilling a different prophecy and creating a different reality.

The gift we receive on the inner journey is the insight that the universe is working together for good. The structure of reality is not the structure of a battle. Reality is not out to get anybody. Yes, there is death, but it is part of the cycle of life, and when we learn to move gracefully with that cycle, a great harmony comes into our lives. The spiritual truth that harmony is more fundamental than warfare in the nature of reality itself could transform this leadership shadow – and transform our institutions as well.

A third shadow common among leaders is “functional atheism”, the belief that ultimate responsibility for everything rests with us. This is the unconscious, unexamined conviction that if anything decent is going to happen here, we are the ones who must make it happen – a conviction held even by people who talk a good game about God.

This shadow causes pathology on every level of our lives. It leads us to impose our will on others, stressing our relationships, sometimes to the point of breaking. It often eventuates in burnout, depression, and despair, as we learn that the world will not bend to our will and we become embittered about that fact. Functional atheism is the shadow that drives collective frenzy as well. It explains why the average group can tolerate no more than 15 seconds of silene: if we are not making noise, we believe, nothing good is happening and something must be dying.

The gift we receive on the inner journey is that ours is not the only act in town. Not only are there other acts out there, but some of them are even better than ours, at least occasionally! We learn that we need not carry the whole load but can share it with others, liberating us and empowering them. We learn that sometimes we are free to lay the load down altogether. The great community asks us to do only what we are able and trust the rest to other hands.

A fourth shadow within and among us is fear, especially our fear of the natural chaos of life. Many of us – parents and teachers and CEOs – are deeply devoted to eliminating all remnants of chaos from the world. We want to organize and orchestrate things so thoroughly that messiness will never bubble up around us and threaten to overwhelm us (for “messiness” read dissent, innovation, challenge, and change). In families and churches and corporations, this shadow is projected as rigidity of rules and procedures, creating an ethos that is imprisoning rather than empowering. (Then, of course, the mess we must deal with is prisoners trying to break out!)

The insight we receive on the inner journey is that chaos is the precondition to creativity: as every creation myth has it, life itself emerged from the void. Even what has been created needs to be returned to chaos from time to time so that it can be regenerated in more vital form. When a leader fears chaos so deeply as to try to eliminate it, the shadow of death will fall across everything that leader approaches – for the ultimate answer to all of life’s messiness is death.

My final example of the shadows that leaders project is, paradoxically, the denial of death itself. Though we sometimes kill things off well before their time, we also live in denial of the fact that all things must die in due course. Leaders who participate in this denial often demand that the people around them keep resuscitating things that are no longer alive. Projects and programs that should have been unplugged long ago are left on life support to accommodate the insecurities of a leader who does not want anything to die on his or her watch.

Within our denial of death lurks fear of another sort: the fear of failure…The best leaders in every setting reward people for taking worthwhile risks even if they are likely to fail. These leaders know that the death of the initiative – if it was tested for good reasons – is always a source of new learning.The gift we receive on the inner journey is the knowledge that death finally comes to everything – and yet death does not have the final word. By allowing something to die when its time is due, we create the conditions under which new life can emerge.

I'm particularly guilty of the fear of failure and functional atheism bits. But then, as the cliche goes, knowing is half the battle.

happy birthday to me

Every year my Nana manages to find the world’s best birthday card. Each year is better than the last, but this year she hit a new high with this one (read the first part before moving onto the second):

Happy birthday to me indeed.

what a week

Well, what a few days actually.

It all started on Friday morning. We decided Julie should go to the hospital after some more pregnancy issues, so we asked her mum to meet us there to look after Chelsea. I had my friend’s graduation from the Police Academy at 1:00pm, so when the scan still hadn’t happened at 12:00, I decided I’d better leave. I would take Julie’s mum’s car back to our place, then pick up our other car and drive it to the graduation.

But first I had to find the car in the carpark. Once you pay for parking, you’ve got 15 minutes to find the car and leave the carpark, but what happens when you didn’t park it there and you have only a vague description of where it is? You spend 15 minutes finding it, that’s what. Thankfully it let me out, but I now had just 45 minutes to get home from the Mercy, then get out to Glen Waverley.

I made it home fairly quickly (15 minutes), but by the time I’d swapped cars I still had only 25 minutes to get to GW. I jumped on the Eastern Freeway because our other car is one we’ve borrowed from Julie’s grandparents, and since it doesn’t have an e-tag, I didn’t want it to charge them for the trip. Anyway, I noticed the fuel gauge was low, but since it’s a similar car to my old one, I knew the fuel light would come on when things were desperate.

The fuel light never came on, but the car ran out of petrol halfway down the Eastern.

In fact, about 1 and a half kilometres from Burke Rd. to be precise. In my rush, I had forgotten to pick up my mobile phone, but thankfully I did pick my hat in case the ceremony was outside. Did I mention it was a 36 degree day? It was a 36 degree day. Wow.

So I made it to Burke Road after bush-bashing my way through the undergrowth (there are fences that prevent you walking along the freeway), and had to decide which direction to go up Burke Road. Being a fairly major road, I thought there’d be little issues either way, but I chose left. Turns out either way wouldn’t have yielded a result, but left took me past about 5 kilometres of residential area. Not even a phone box. I finally made it to East Ivanhoe shops, and the first public phone. I rang Julie. We got it sorted out. Needless to say, I missed the graduation.

Then we had inspiral and went to bed. Next day arrives.

Shane and Em’s wedding was at St. Judes at 1:30, so we jump on the tram (at least it can’t run out of petrol…) at about 1:10, and make it there on time. As we enter the church, we see the massive storm cloud approaching. The storm hits not long after the service begins. In fact, the first peal of thunder is heard during the silence following the minister saying “If anyone knows any reason why this man and this woman should not be wed, speak now or forever remain silent.” Hilarious. Anyway, we had a wonderful time catching up with old Whitley friends and showing Chelsea off to them. We come up our street after the massive rainstorm to find that it had flooded massively, washing away much of the nature strip, but the real shock comes when we get inside and realise that Cassie is gone. There’s a hole under the gate that we block with a wooden board, but she’s obviously been so panicked by the storm, she’s moved the chair holding the wooden board in place.

Now Cassie hates thunderstorms; she freaks out completely and is inconsolable. We realise that not only is she gone, but potentially, she’s been gone for over three hours. If she escaped at the beginning of the thunderstorm, she could be absolutely anywhere by now.

Every time she’s escaped before, we’ve found her right outside the gate, or nearby. This time, however, she’s nowhere to be seen. We scour the streets and laneways. After we’ve circled around on foot for a while, we decide to go in the car and on the bike in different directions. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. She could literally be anywhere by now – in any direction, and after looking for an hour, she has about a 4 hour headstart on us.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so gutted as I did then. I’ve been fortunate enough not to lose anyone close to me, but I imagine it must feel something like this. The worst part was not knowing – if she was ok, where she’d gone, if she’d ever come back. Your mind goes over the worst case scenarios – she’s hurt, she’s stolen, she’s dead…and she’s so very much a part of the family. I was utterly convinced we would never see her again.

Then, as I ride down Lygon St after over an hour of searching, I spot her. Tied up outside the newsagent with a piece of string, and Julie and Chelsea had just seen her too. The guy explains that she came into the newsagent just as the storm started, and was sniffing around for while before he realised her owner wasn’t there, and so he tied her up assuming we’d come past sometime. She had made it across Lygon St unscathed. As far down as I’d felt just seconds ago, I was now equally up – completely elated. I still can’t believe how lucky we were to find her, or have her found. The odds must be unthinkable.

The storm, meanwhile, had dumped a massive amount of water. Aside from the flood in our street, the place at Merri Creek where I go to pray every morning was massively affected; in fact, so much water went down that area that the whole landscape is irrevocably changed. The water level rose by as much as 6 feet; in fact, in the place I would normally sit, it would have been more than a foot above my head. The step on which I would normally sit has been washed away, and in the place of the bank there is a whole lot of new stones, pebbles and sand. I even found nine golf balls washed up at the water’s edge when I went there this morning.

So all up, a fairly eventful few days, and those were just the drama-packed moments. Looking forward to a few quiet ones now.

mystery solved

Just over one week after the arrival of the mysterious portaloo, the enigma was solved.

It turns out they’re replacing the underground water pipes in our area, although there’s still no sign of them working anywhere near here. Apparently they won’t get around to doing our section until next week, but the loo remains firmly attached to the tree anyway. I even saw a workman emerge from it this morning, looking somewhat confused as he emerged, blinked in the sudden sunlight, looked perplexed in all directions and scratched his head. Maybe it really is just a ‘portal’, and some clever forger added the ‘oo’.

Winner (in more ways than one) is Chris (he was also the only one who entered) and there will be a package winging its way Londonward very soon.

Also, I found this while searching for a picture of a construction sign, and decided to put it here instead.

how bizarre, how bizarre

I opened our front door yesterday evening to find this parked on the nature strip next to our house:

My theory is the toilet is a rabid environmentalist and has chained itself to the tree in order to stop it being chopped down by a thoughtless and uncaring council.

Here it is relative to our house:

Seriously though, I have no idea why it’s there. There was no warning of an impending toilet. No notice from the council that a toilet would soon be making an appearance on my nature strip. There is no construction going on around here, and there are public toilets just a half a block away at Nandos. Why oh why is there a portable toilet chained to the tree next to our house?

Best/most creative theory (is it realistic to stipulate ‘no toilet humour’?) wins a prize.

streamlining relationships

I’ll try not to go this far…

coincidence or serendipity?

you decide.

napoleon dynamite

I watched Napoleon Dynamite last night. Made for just $400,000 by an Idahoan film student, it grossed $44.5 million in the US alone. It came to my attention because the Moonlight Cinema in the Botanical Gardens are declaring it to be the new cult hit, bigger than Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, which is one of the best films ever in my opinion. The State of Idaho were so proud, they passed a resolution commending the directors Jared and Jerusha Hess for the production of their film. The text of the resolution is below, and is a testament to positivity, and not a little parochialism.

LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF IDAHO

Fifty-eighth Legislature First Regular Session – 2005

IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

HOUSE CONCURRENT RESOLUTION NO. 29

BY WAYS AND MEANS COMMITTEE

A CONCURRENT RESOLUTION STATING LEGISLATIVE FINDINGS AND COMMENDING JARED AND JERUSHA HESS AND THE CITY OF PRESTON FOR THE PRODUCTION OF THE MOVIE “NAPOLEON DYNAMITE.”

Be It Resolved by the Legislature of the State of Idaho:

WHEREAS, the State of Idaho recognizes the vision, talent and creativity of Jared and Jerusha Hess in the writing and production of “Napoleon Dynamite”; and

WHEREAS, the scenic and beautiful City of Preston, County of Franklin and the State of Idaho are experiencing increased tourism and economic growth; and

WHEREAS, filmmaker Jared Hess is a native Idahoan who was educated in the Idaho public school system; and

WHEREAS, the Preston High School administration and staff, particularly the cafeteria staff, have enjoyed notoriety and worldwide attention; and

WHEREAS, tater tots figure prominently in this film thus promoting Idaho’s most famous export; and

WHEREAS, the friendship between Napoleon and Pedro has furthered multiethnic relationships; and

WHEREAS, Uncle Rico’s football skills are a testament to Idaho athletics; and

WHEREAS, Napoleon’s bicycle and Kip’s skateboard promote better air quality and carpooling as alternatives to fuel-dependent methods of transportation; and

WHEREAS, Grandma’s trip to the St. Anthony Sand Dunes highlights a long-honored Idaho vacation destination; and

WHEREAS, Rico and Kip’s Tupperware sales and Deb’s keychains and glamour shots promote entrepreneurism and self-sufficiency in Idaho’s small towns; and

WHEREAS, Napoleon’s artistic rendition of Trisha is an example of the importance of the visual arts in K-12 education; and

WHEREAS, the schoolwide Preston High School student body elections foster an awareness in Idaho’s youth of public service and civic duty; and

WHEREAS, the “Happy Hands” club and the requirement that candidates for school president present a skit is an example of the importance of theater arts in K-12 education; and

WHEREAS, Pedro’s efforts to bake a cake for Summer illustrate the positive connection between culinary skills to lifelong relationships; and

WHEREAS, Kip’s relationship with LaFawnduh is a tribute to e-commerce and Idaho’s technology-driven industry; and

WHEREAS, Kip and LaFawnduh’s wedding shows Idaho’s commitment to healthy marriages; and

WHEREAS, the prevalence of cooked steak as a primary food group pays tribute to Idaho’s beef industry; and

WHEREAS, Napoleon’s tetherball dexterity emphasizes the importance of physical education in Idaho public schools; and

WHEREAS, Tina the llama, the chickens with large talons, the 4-H milk cows, and the Honeymoon Stallion showcase Idaho’s animal husbandry; and

WHEREAS, any members of the House of Representatives or the Senate of the Legislature of the State of Idaho who choose to vote “Nay” on this concurrent resolution are “FREAKIN’ IDIOTS!” and run the risk of having the “Worst Day of Their Lives!”

NOW, THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED by the members of the First Regular Session of the Fifty-eighth Idaho Legislature, the House of Representatives and the Senate concurring therein, that we commend Jared and Jerusha Hess and the City of Preston for showcasing the positive aspects of Idaho’s youth, rural culture, education system, athletics, economic prosperity and diversity.

BE IT FURTHER RESOLVED that we, the members of the House of Representatives and the Senate of the State of Idaho, advocate always following your heart, and thus we eagerly await the next cinematic undertaking of Idaho’s Hess family.

BE IT FURTHER RESOLVED that the Chief Clerk of the House of Representatives be, and she is hereby authorized and directed to forward a copy of this resolution to Jared and Jerusha Hess, the Mayor of the City of Preston and the Principal of Preston High School.

Statement of Purpose / Fiscal Impact

STATEMENT OF PURPOSE

RS 15236

The purpose of this resolution is to recognize and commend Jared and Jerusha Hess for their cinematic talents by which they have increased the nation’s awareness of Idaho.

You really have to have seen the film for any of that to make sense to you, but if only we could all take the time and make the effort to see the good in things, and to praise and encourage good where it is found, even amongst evil, we’d be closer to the Kingdom.

What I found funny about the film wasn’t so much the characters (who were mostly awkward, though not unnaturally so), but the reminder that there are these kind of people in the world. I know, because I grew up with them. This film makes them endearing.

I’m not going to say it’s the best film I’ve ever seen, but any film that makes a state legislature pass a motion such as “WHEREAS, any members of the House of Representatives or the Senate of the Legislature of the State of Idaho who choose to vote “Nay” on this concurrent resolution are ‘FREAKIN’ IDIOTS!’ and run the risk of having the ‘Worst Day of Their Lives!’” is a pretty darn good thing.

what the...?

There I was, innocently listening to the radio in the car. Ross Noble and some other chick were hosting, and since I think Ross is rather funny, was enjoying the show. Then I hear the announcer say, “You’re on Triple J with Terri Psiakis and Ross Noble.”

All of a sudden I’m back in primary school. I’m the smartest kid in the class, but also one of the most unpopular (just in front of the smelly kid who carries his mouldy, 6-month-old school lunch around in his bag, but just behind the foreign kid)...but it’s my being smart that defines me to everyone else, probably myself included. My only rival: Terri Psiakis. She knows every answer just like me, she’s in the advanced group that meets to do macrame on a Wednesday afternoon (why, I still don’t know). She’s been in my class every year, despite there being three classes of my grade that are shuffled each year. As usual, it’s her difference that defines her to the rest of us; she’s Greek, with a slight moustache well ahead of any of us boys. For some reason I assumed it was her ethnicity that made her smart; she’s more cultured, or has a head start because foreign kids learn faster or something. At an age where girls are the enemy (girl germs’ll kill yer quicker than a taipan’s bite) she’s as close to a female friend I could have. She’s quiet, but confident; probably a little more mature than the rest of us. But she’s got brains to spare, and she pushes me every inch of the way.

Fast forward to the present: she’s a stand up comedian and DJ on Triple J.

I’d seen her on RoveLive a while back, but it never occurred to me to follow it up. Apparently she’s writing regularly for RoveLive and has a Triple J spot as well as a bunch of other things. It just strikes me as bizarre that someone you only ever knew as a kid grew up and ended up in comedy for a living. That’s one of the strange things about comedy I guess – it’s not really predictable. Had we had yearbooks, she probably would’ve been voted “most likely to succeed”, but “least likely to be a stand up comedian”.

On second thought, that mantle probably would’ve gone to me.

animal vengeance

My father-in-law introduced me to this remarkable fly catcher. It’s the most effective thing I’ve ever seen. It’s basically just a jar with a couple of small holes in the top and a cover sitting about a half inch above the holes. Then you put some of the liquid attractant in the jar and watch it fill up with flies. The flies crawl in there and can’t get out, so they eventually drown in the liquid. In this way, in a mere two weeks, I have caught and killed hundreds and hundreds of flies; in fact, the jar is almost full. Here’s a picture of it:

You might not realise this but with the dry weather over the last couple of years, flies have bred in much greater numbers than usual so we are experiencing a massive overdose of them, even more than usual. Killing a female saves 500 of them being born. So I have no moral compunctions about removing a few from circulation, especially in my backyard.

Anyway, the upshot of all this was that a couple of days ago, as I stood ankle deep in the Edward River in Deniliquin, I accidentally swallowed a fly. Let me assure you that there was no chewing involved, I just completely sucked it into my throat as I breathed in. Before I realised what had happened, it was gone, down my gullet, and no amount of hacking and coughing would bring it back again.

And then immediately (well, after yelling ‘eeeuww! eeuuwww! eeeeuuww!”), I thought: maybe this is revenge for my fly catcher. I mean, is it possible? Could the flies have sat down together and decided that something had to be done about this guy, and asked for a volunteer for a kamikaze mission? Could it be that this fly had put his disgusting, disease-ridden little hand up, and said “I’ll do it!” to the proud applause of the entire fly population?

Then something else started to eat at me (pardon the pun): do insects count as meat to a vegetarian? Can I still consider myself a vegetarian now? Does meat only count when it’s eaten deliberately, or would you lose your vegetarian status if you accidentally tripped and swallowed a sirloin steak in a restaurant?

Anyway, the whole idea of animal vengeance was recalled to my mind by the following story, which was reported here:

Blazing mouse sets fire to house

A US man who threw a mouse onto a pile of burning leaves could only watch in horror as it ran into his house and set the building ablaze.

Luciano Mares, 81, of Fort Sumner, New Mexico, found the mouse in his home and wanted to get rid of it.

“I had some leaves burning outside, so I threw it in the fire, and the mouse was on fire and ran back at the house,” he was quoted as saying by AP.

Though no-one was injured, the house and everything in it was destroyed.

“I’ve seen numerous house fires, but nothing as unique as this one,” Fire Department Captain Jim Lyssy said.

New Mexico has seen several major blazes after unseasonably dry and windy conditions which have destroyed 10 homes and devastated more than 53,000 acres (21,200 hectares) of land.

Oh, and for what it’s worth: the fly did not taste like chicken.

*** edit ***

I just discovered this in today’s Age:

Man breaks leg while kicking spider

January 12, 2006 – 2:15PM

A 19-year-old broke his leg in two places while kicking at a spider in the NSW Southern Highlands.

NRMA CareFlight said the teenager was flown to Liverpool Hospital in a stable condition from a property 25km west of Mittagong after the incident involving a large huntsman spider before 1pm (AEDT) today.

The force of the man’s kick at the spider broke his right leg in two places and also killed the spider.

The Huntsman is listed by the Australian Museum as being a relatively harmless species, although the Badge Huntsman can cause pain, headache, vomiting and an irregular pulse.

I’m telling you – it’s an epidemic. The animals are fighting back.

born in the USA

One of my Christmas presents was The Essential Bruce Springsteen three cd compilation. It stretches over his whole career to this date, more than 20 years of music.

One of the songs that struck me afresh was ‘Born in the USA’. I was introduced to this song when it first came out in the mid 80s, and I have strong memories of the album cover, the one with the picture of his butt in blue jeans with a red cap hanging out of the pocket, and the US flag as a backdrop.

The repeated chorus of “Born in the USA” combined with that album cover and the growing American confidence in their victory in the Cold War gave this song a powerfully pro-American slant for me. It just seemed to scream jingoistic US patriotism.

So it wasn’t until the weekend that I actually listened to the words:

Born down in a dead man’s town
The first kick I took was when I hit the ground
You end up like a dog that’s been beat too much
‘Til you spend half your life just covering up

Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

I got in a little hometown jam
And so they put a rifle in my hands
Sent me off to Vietnam
To go and kill the yellow man

Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

Come back home to the refinery
Hiring man says “Son if it was up to me”
I go down to see the V.A. man
He said “Son don’t you understand”

Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

I had a buddy at Khe Sahn
Fighting off the Viet Cong
They’re still there, he’s all gone
He had a little girl in Saigon
I got a picture of him in her arms

Down in the shadow of the penitentiary
Out by the gas fires of the refinery
I’m ten years down the road
Nowhere to run, ain’t got nowhere to go

I’m a long gone Daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.
I’m a cool rocking Daddy in the U.S.A.
Born in the U.S.A.

‘Born in the USA’, it turns out, is dripping with a melancholy sarcasm. Forced into the army, and sent off to fight on behalf of his country, he returns to find that his country no longer wants him, and all of the patriotic zeal with which he was reassured is for naught. What his country stands for – freedom, opportunity – is denied him despite his risking his life for its cause.

But the reference to Khe Sanh caused me to reflect on that other (less officially recognised) patriotic song, although this time Australian – Cold Chisel’s Khe Sanh. It’s been called Australia’s ‘unofficial national anthem’ (and let’s face it, it’s no more or less appropriate than ‘Waltzing Matilda’, a song about a suicidal thief). But lest we think that Americans are the only ones who are sucked in by jingoistic patriotism, let’s check the words of Cold Chisel’s offering:

I left my heart to the sappers round Khe Sanh
And my soul was sold with my cigarettes to the blackmarket man
I’ve had the Vietnam cold turkey
From the ocean to the Silver City
And it’s only other vets could understand

About the long forgotten dockside guarantees
How there were no V-dayheroes in 1973
How we sailed into Sydney Harbour
Saw an old friend but couldn’t kiss her
She was lined, and I was home to the lucky land

And she was like so many more from that time on
Their lives were all so empty, till they found their chosen one
And their legs were often open
But their minds were always closed
And their hearts were held in fast suburban chains

And the legal pads were yellow, hours long, paypackets lean
And the telex writers clattered where the gunships once had been
But the car parks made me jumpy
And I never stopped the dreams
Or the growing need for speed and novacaine

So I worked across the country end to end
Tried to find a place to settle down, where my mixed up life could mend
Held a job on an oil-rig
Flying choppers when I could
But the nightlife nearly drove me round the bend

And I’ve travelled round the world from year to year
And each one found me aimless, one more year the worse for wear
And I’ve been back to South East Asia
But the answer sure ain’t there
But I’m drifting north, to check things out again

You know the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone
Only seven flying hours, and I’ll be landing in Hong Kong
There ain’t nothing like the kisses
From a jaded Chinese princess
I’m gonna hit some Hong Kong mattress all night long

Well the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone
Yeah the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone
And it’s really got me worried
I’m goin’ nowhere and I’m in a hurry
And the last plane out of Sydney’s almost gone

Again, the same story. The sentiments “Nowhere to run, ain’t got nowhere to go” and “I’m goin’ nowhere and I’m in a hurry” are almost identical. Two songs that have been co-opted as patriotic jingles, neither of which fit that mould in the slightest. In fact, both of them are scathing in their assessment of their country of origin – and both as a result of their citizens’ reactions to Vietnam War veterans. I found this to be a fascinating parallelism, not only because of the way it demonstrates that songs can be co-opted or misappropriated (deliberately or by ignorance), but also because one of our members is a son of a Vietnam Vet who has gone through a very similar experience, and it has affected not only his life, but that of his children in a very deep and profound way.

All of this sits awkwardly with the current political climate, with Born in the USA potentially traitorous under the US Patriot Act, and Khe Sanh potentially undermining the state according to the new Australian sedition laws. We would do well to let these songs sit as they were originally intended – as critical commentaries on the injustices prevalent in two of the most advanced democracies in the world. And we should encourage more critical commentary, always being wary of how such commentary can be co-opted by blind patriotism.

must be the monobrow

I always suspected it’d be Bert rather than Ernie.

In searching Bert and Ernie online for my daughter (she’s a big fan) I found this. Apparently a guy did a bunch of photoshopped pictures of Bert for a joke site, and this was among them:

But then somehow a bunch of Bin Laden supporters ended up with that picture on their sign (look closely at the bottom right). No-one seems to know how, but it’s darn funny.

dead men don't write spy novels

so I mentioned a while ago that I’d read every single one of Robert Ludlum’s books. now this guy died in March 2001, yet he’s still released 5 books since then (some of which were finished off/co-written by other authors). I’d read them all too, but then yesterday I was in K-mart and noticed he’s now released another two. can someone explain to me how a man who’s been dead for almost 5 years is still releasing novels? I mean, I passed the first few off as kind of finishing the books he had planned, but now I’m not so sure. is he dictating these to someone from beyond the grave? or did he just have 100 books written before he died and asked someone to release them slowly over the next 50 years? seriously, what is the deal here?

(with grateful thanks to the steve martin film which inspired the title of this post.)

anticipation

I got U2 tickets today. That is big for me – big. It’s probably the last time they’ll be out here, and it’ll be a huge huge show.

The moral of this story is, don’t get tickets online; get them at a ticket outlet. I don’t know how people manage to get through, but I was trying to get through for an hour and a half before I gave up, found a ticketmaster outlet nearby, and spent a whole 2 minutes in line before buying the tickets. If only I’d done that first.

Now, I get to have between now and March 24 savouring the anticipation. Awesome.

not a crazy frog in sight...

I finally did my soundtrack to 2005 compilation disc, and here’s the tracklist:

1. Ben Lee – Gamble Everything for Love
2. Lifehouse – Unknown
3. Bob Dylan – Subterranean Homesick Blues
4. Midnight Oil – My Country
5. Ramones – It’s Not My Place (in the 9 to 5 World)
6. U2 – Love and Peace or Else
7. Jason Mraz – Curbside Prophet
8. Counting Crows – Sullivan St (with Did She Wanna Run alts)
9. Missy Higgins – Nightminds
10. King Curtis – Memphis Soul Stew
11. Ben Lee – Desire (B-side of Gamble Everything For Love single)
12. Jess McAvoy – Easy
13. Powderfinger – Don’t Wanna Be Left Out
14. Ben Lee – Catch My Disease

seriously, it’s the best way to reflect on your year. try it sometime.

actually, that reminds me of the Nick Hornby quote from Hi Fidelity about mixed tapes.

“To me, making a tape is like writing a letter – there’s a lot of erasing and rethinking and starting again…A good compilation tape, like breaking up, is hard to do. You’ve got to kick off with a corker, to hold the attention…and then you’ve got to up it a notch, or cool it a notch, and you can’t have white music and black music together, unless the white music sounds like black music, and you can’t have two tracks by the same artist side by side unless you’ve done the whole thing in pairs…oh, there are loads of rules.”

I can't believe I'm admitting this...

let it be known that I picked the result from 5 weeks out.

It was about 5 weeks ago (the week James went) that I said, “I reckon Kate’s the dark horse. You can’t go ‘under the radar’ in this competition.”

too bad I’m not a betting man: I think I would’ve cleaned up.