Monday, July 31, 2006

Tch, I've had access to a camera for two weeks already and only just remembered I have a Flickr account. Anyway, I've put up a handful of pics here - more to come when I'm better organised. <g> (And have a look at my 'buddy icon'. Dormouse! Squee! Not a photo I took myself, obviously, cos there's no dormice in Australia, but nicked from the 'net somewhere.)

I have numerous, non-urgent side quests and picking up a copy of Ned Kelly (very cheaply) was one small step closer to fulfilling one of them.
Now, I'm not an aficionado of the Ned Kelly myth though I've been marginally aware through the years about the arguments over his character. To some he's simply a murdering crinimal, to others a valiant freedom fighter pushed into outlawry through the prejudice of the police. Right, whatever, I have no real opinion but it was pretty bloody obvious within a few minutes just where the film's sympathies lay, which was firmly within the 'ordinary man forced into crime' camp. It was dissatisfyingly obvious, in fact, almost Marty-Stuish. Add a spurious romance to the clumsy attempt to gain our sympathy and it wasn't a significant film at all. That's not to say that the cast were crap, cos they weren't. Most of the characters were very well played and believable, and Heath Ledger in particular did well with what he had. What did annoy me, though, was the melodramatic aspect of some of the police (and the beards, dear gods, the beards!). As instruments of Kelly's perdition one in particular was overplayed and just irritating. Yes, yes, the authorities had it in for the Kelly family, we know that, there was no need to highlight it so strongly it became farcial. Sheesh.
What I did really like about this movie however was how well it portrayed the landscape. Outback Victoria is not especially hospitable but it is striking.
... and Orli-squee's Irish accent was soft and gentle and just darling! <squinch>

I had a dream the other night that my father asked me if I'd seen his bowtie. I had to think hard but I vaguely remembered seeing it in an ornamental brass box of my mother's. Problem was, Mum had packed most of her stuff away and I spent nearly the whole dream rummaging around in cupboards and cardboard boxes looking for the stupid thing. Tch.

And speaking of looking for things. I heard a snippet of classical music last week and it drove me mad! I knew it from somewhere but couldn't quite place it. I knew - or rather, my body knew - it'd been used regularly in the ballet barre work exercises I endured years ago, and I was almost certain I'd danced to it as well.
I finally remembered what the piece was just before I went to bed that night - the opening stanza from Carmen. As it happened I hadn't danced to it but the impression I had of particular steps and swirly skirts was because I'd seen it danced numerous times. It's always good to solve a puzzle, I went to bed feeling very smug.

It was announced at assembly this morning that the cubs' school is getting (has bought with Government funds) one of the cabins built for the Athletes' Village in the recent Commonwealth Games. Neat! We're acquiring a piece of history, a building that's been imbued with the desperate hopes and determination - yea, perhaps even the very sweat - of world class athletes. That can't be anything but inspirational, ne? <g>

<sigh> The broadband limit ran out very quickly this month so I've had an enforced absence from eBay of two weeks.
Which honestly probably isn't a bad thing.

More delights of my new phone: having the music piped directly into my ears has in some cases enabled me to hear the lyrics more clearly. Outkast's Hey Ya, despite the cheerful tune and peppering of 'love', 'together', 'forever' words is not a nice song. And I've discovered that my favourite ever Kylie song is spookily appropriate for the project I've just started.

Spotted cloisterphobic in a fan fic. <snerk> The fear of monasteries?

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