Karridale68’s Vox

I have to get my hands on this T-shirt.....

DumbPeople

I've been tagged by HurricaneHetta to list 8 random things about myself. Now I should tag 8 other people but ahem I don't think I even have that many in my vox neighbourhood! Ha ha - that can be the first random thing about myself - I only have a small vox corral....OK getting serious now here goes.....

1. I used to own and ride a 600cc motorcycle also know as a Kawasaki Ninja. It was tres sexy and very powerful and at the time I knew a motorbike mechanic who took great pleasure in 'fruiting' up the bike with things like polished wheel rims and a go-fast loud exhaust pipe. For a while there I was Queen of the road and no 4 wheels could touch me! *Sigh* those were the days but I became older and alas more sensible and sold 'Pouncer' - named thusly because I always felt the bike was always ready to pounce like a puma. This is not my bike below but the same model and colour;

Ninja

2. I used to play bass guitar in a band called Black Moon. What - you havent heard of this seminal stoner rock icon??!! Well we did only play 7 gigs in our home town including a 40th lesbian birthday party in which the crowd stood about 20m away from us the whole time, and I think were hoping against hope that we would morph into a KD Lang or Patsy Kline tribute band. Nothing doing I'm afraid ladies. The band self-combusted when the singing drummer (yes I know not a good look), went clinically insane and his brother hocked my guitar & amplifier during one or our hiatuses. It was quite disappointing because when we got our act together and played in the groove, I would have to say that I felt some sort of blissful zen collective consciousness that I have failed to replicate to this day;

BlackMoon

3. I have a weakness for all types of cheese and often think about becoming an artisan cheese maker;

Wheel-o-cheese

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4. I love road trips and taking off on the open road. We relocated to the country a few years ago and so driving long distances is part and parcel of our lifestyle. I used to have a penchant for older cars and owned a Spanish Olive Rover 3500 V8 for 10 years. I loved that car and still hope in vain it will be reintroduced with the same body but a not so thirsty engine;

Sherman

5. I become quite engrossed in documentaries particularly those that retell a story of someone's trial, tribulation and triumph;

6. I notice, admire and respect large trees and have been known to hug them;

7. I think my husband & I knew each other in several past lives - I'm a geologist and he is a stonemason and we have started a stone business together;

DB6

8. I am just over 12 weeks pregnant after trying for nearly 4 years, and I think that maybe just maybe I can recapture that euphoric collective consciousness when I gaze upon my child for the very first time

CollectiveC

OhDear

Well it makes sense doesn't it? I mean there are children's books now to explain to children that their "Daddy" is a wiggly donor sperm, so why not a book to explain why suddenly Mommy is swaddled in bandages, bruised and then when she makes a full recovery somehow looks like Pamela Anderson? Uh huh yeah it's a book to explain that Mommy has had plastic surgery. I love this concept so much - young sponge-like minds being exposed to the shallow wielding of the knife - "Hey Mommy - for my 6th birthday can I get liposuction & rhinoplasty pretty please??" or "Mommy when can I have my breast augmentation? I'm the only 7yr old in our neighbourhood with a flat chest" Here are some literary gems extracted from the book below: -

"As I got older, my body stretched and I couldn't fit into my clothes anymore. Dr Michael is going to help fix that and make me feel better," the mother tells her daughter.

Her nose surgery, she explains, will make her look "not just different, my dear -- prettier".

 When I look at that retro book cover it seems to be channeling an episode of Bewitched - all Samantha had to do was twitch her cute button-nose & hey presto by the power of magic.......I find this concept of the shifting line of normalcy so fascinating. Like the woman who was teaching pole-dancing to young girls and justifying it by saying "It's really just a form of gymnastics except that the pole is vertical and not horizontal". Wow that woman should be in politics - what a great spin! You can dress it up, fix its hair, apply makeup to it all you want but it still says to me "This is what is wrong with society". Speaking of what is wrong with society I'm having an unusually low tolerance to SPAM email lately: -

SPAM

It is just so relentless - the cheap viagra, the Nigerian money scams, the inheritance scams, the fake rolexes, the live Russian dolls who just want to be my friend, the certificates guaranteeing entrance to heaven. Sure I just delete it and carry on my merry way, but lately it comes to me as the instigator for the insisidious erosion of society's soul. This dedicated pursuit for consumerism, to cheat, lie & scam unsuspecting folk, sickens me. I was first exposed to the animal form of SPAM on one of my first school camps. Having grown up in a Greek household my standard lunchtime fare was fetta, provolone cheese, melanzane, pickled peppers, Kalamata olives and Italian felino salami. So I was quite aghast at my first Australian school camp lunch as I trotted up to the serving area to see nothing that resembled fine Meditteranean fare, but strange looking meats encased in wobbly gelatinous aspic and white flattened brecciated meat masquerading as a form of compressed chicken. So I resigned myself to kraft cheese & iceberg lettuce sandwiches whilst being questioned for my 'fussy' palate. I didn't stick around long enough to respond in kind because of the repugnant stench of their spam sandwich overpowering my sensibilities. Hence it is only fitting that the moniker for such a ghastly meat should be applied to this most ghastly of modern day past-times - SPAM.

This is an initiative introduced by the police force Australia-wide called "Operation Road Safe". Methods are yet to be perfected - here's a trial method in the state of New South Wales for random testing of ecstasy......

For someone who normally has a lot to say I sure don't write it down much. Speaking of someone who has a lot to say I have become quite engrossed in Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares reality series! I first came across Gordon swearing like a trooper on UK television 5 years ago, kicking the proverbial butts of these poor excuses for restaurateurs. The series in America is no different and I still have to wonder at the ego/insanity of those running these establishments. It's usually the same MO - a deluded individual with a napoleonic complex dreaming of world domination on someone else's investment whilst being savagely in debt and surveying an empty dining room. I honestly think I could run these places better than these schmucks!

I was actually on my way to the cinema to see Juno but somehow I ended up in the theatre watching the latest Coen Brother's film (based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy) and I'm glad I did! I almost can't begin to describe this movie - so many layers of cinematic brilliance.  The cinematography and pace of the first 15 minutes of the film captured the vastness and loneliness of the Texan desert - unforgiving land where life can easily give way to death. In that sense that part of the movie was timeless - it could have been set in the wild west or the 21st century - raw nature like that doesn't change - we come and go but the desert is the ultimate victor. The aural aspect of the film was also astonishing - we're so used to the visual but the sound was given equal billing, each crunch of a cowboy boot on the bare earth resonated so crisply, the desert wind echoed eerily, the super sonic discharge of a firearm, the distinctive Texan drawl of the local folk all added to the richness of the film. So while drinking in the cinematography and sounds, before you know it you're drowning in extreme violence and suspense. Nothing is ever conventional in a Coen brothers film - the professional hitman played by Javier Bardem is evil, ethereal, intellectual and damn scary, cutting a swathe, terminator-style in the Texan badlands with his unique weapon - a captive bolt pistol (normally used to kill cattle I believe). All cinematic conventions are broken - traditional codes of cinema have conditioned us to expect narratives to go in particular directions with a nice and neat tidy ending. Even I was caught out by the ending - I kind of zoned out during a Tommy Lee Jones soliloquoy (I caught the late session so I was a little tired) and then the credits rolled! What the???? Ah but that's what I loved about it - sure some things didn't work in the film but overall I, the audience was challenged by the layers presented before me - peeling away each texture, and trying to get to the heart of the film, the philosophy and the meaning behind 'No Country For Old Men' - there are no clean getaways.

Beware - this post will contain cynical snarky commentary and various scatalogical references!!! Oh where to begin - you know sometimes people really need a good slap. I've noticed in the last few days as the moon swells to its monthly fullness, ordinary folk begin to go feral. Being aware of the moon's movements, I take a step back and notice the subtle changes within myself and observe the ensuing strange behaviour of those around me. For instance last night, as I was walking my dog who kindly thought to take a dump right next to a major highway, and therefore I was clearly observed as the minion picking up her majesty's art as foecal matter. I'm a very responsible dog owner in that regard and there I was ready to spring into action, bag at the ready to remove the offensive item, and some yobbo driving past yells out the following abuse "Pick that sh*t up!". I was immediately flooded with rage and I had to prevent myself from thinking dark thoughts like "Later that evening, Mr Abuser while swilling a beer and a pork pie choked on pig trotter gristle, his morbidly obese wife too large to hoist herself off the couch to effect any rescue watched as he gurgled away incoherently"....Hmmm so yes the full moon was getting to me too so I tried to channel positive thoughts....

And so this morning I was taking my dog for a walk on the beach and a lady was sitting on a rock nearby and the conversation went something like this:

Foot-in-mouth Lady: "Hello puppy, you're a strange looking dog"

Cue my dog to go up and say hello - already I am not impressed by her inferences that PJ is of a 'strange' genetic breed.

Foot-in-mouth Lady: "Ooh get away, I don't like dogs"

Me: "Well if you don't like them, don't talk to them!"

Funnily enough the non-dog liker was at the beach with her two dogs.....And so my dog started playing with her dogs and another one, and of course in the midst of that excitement PJ decided to do what she does best which was another dump which prompted this response:

Foot-in-mouth Lady: "Ooh yuck, dog poo!!"

By this stage I'm wondering if this woman is demented - does she think her dogs are cats or one of many other god's creatures, and that strange stuff that emanates from their bottom is some kind of attempt at conversation????!!!!! To which I responded drily: -

Me: "That's what they do".

Felt like flinging the dog bag in her face but I walked away wondering what it was that made people so unlikeable. Perhaps I am just a misanthrope but I cannot tolerate rudeness, ignorance, condescension, stupidity, disrespect and general meanness and pettiness. So if someone around you is going hard for the the biggest jerk award, look up to the sky and remember that maybe, just maybe, the lunar goddess is messing with their inner tidal fluids.

Stumpy

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Hola tout le monde. I came upon this 1999 performance of Nick Cave singing this beautiful composition and what I truly believe to be one of the greatest love ballads - 'Into My Arms'. I have set my lofty sights to learn this piece on the piano - it is way out of my league but it just gives me more excuses to listen to the maestro in action. Enjoy - you may need some Kleenex handy...

Apparently snakes shed their skin periodically 4-8 times a year - this activity is constrained by hormones and is the mark of growth. I'm not usually one to see off the end of the year ceremoniously  - often times the years roll into each other but I'm ready to shed my '07 skin, and who knows how many layers of other years have been imprinted in it? I've had worse years believe me and I wonder what separates this year from the rest? Perhaps I'm finally feeling comfortable in my new skin - all my plots and schemes to avoid looking at myself have failed dismally this year. I have been forced to look within, reach deeply, recognise myself truly - not what I project or think I represent. And you know what? I'm not as bad as I thought I was. In fact I quite like myself - a few rough edges here and there for the unsuspecting to get snagged upon but that's OK too. And so I feel very optimistic about 2008 - I feel like it will be a golden year and I'm ready to bask in its warm glow. And so I tip my glass of red wine to you all and however you choose to see this one out I hope it will be a good one. See you on the flip side.

RattlesnakeSkin

Get that banjo out and start a-pluckin! Yeeeee-Hawwww! What happens when an urban chic geek meets the wild west? Stay tuned to find out. In the meantime I’ve been meaning to capture images of my 40km drive to our office every day – scenes of straw bales, acres of vines, moo cows and wee olde churches whizz past me. So the other day I risked life and limb to stop my car with big mac trucks trailing me like a scene from Duel leaving dust and gravel plumes in their wake as they blitzkrieg past me, to pause and photograph my journey.

The landscape is very interesting this time of year – the sun has scorched the ground cover to a golden wheat tone which contrasts nicely with the vivid lime green of the ubiquitous vines and the deep greens of the leaves of the native gum trees with a hint of burgundy red when new shoots emerge.

HowNowSpottyCow

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