I was there, with Jo, last night...

The Hollandaise Shame

Yesterday I went with my mum and sister and niece to Cafez, a cafe I have spoken of previously. We got our coffees and they were good. Mine was a decaf soy capp, which is what I have to buy now cos I am not allowed dairy or coffee. It was GREAT! They so have redeemed themselves coffee wise. But now let me tell you the story of the food. We waited 25 mins for our food. We had already drunk our great coffees. It was all looking good until Beth skewered her eggs on her benedict plate - they were hard. She took them back. Now before I continue, mum's turkish was toasted to within an inch of its life and my bagel was not actually a bagel. Hannah's pancakes looked like cholesterol heaven as usual. So Beth took her plate back and sat down to wait for her second go. After another 20 mins and the rest of us were about to finish eating I said to Beth to go and tell them that if they had not started to not bother. UNfortunately they had and it was on its way to the table. Once it arrived Beth checked her eggs, which were barely runny, but no complaining, however when she cut a corner of toast, egg and sauce and ate it she screwed up her face in disgust. Angry as only a head chef can be in someone else's restuarant - controlled explosive. I told her to calm down and simply tell them the sauce was gross. She asked me to taste the hollandaise after this suggestion saying she could not eat the meal. I did and it tasted like hot mayonaise - and Kraft mayo at that! What a rort! She took the meal back and got her money back. Apparently the cook was pushed for time and served hot mayo for hollandaise. $12 value? Yuck! My last breakfast there!
I know I seem obsessed with cafes and coffee and food, but I am living in pig fucker HELL. I cannot scrutinise the locals for fear of my life, so it must be the food.

mango

I have been eating a bit of stone fruit lately. Plums, peaches, nectarines. They are all SO divine! In fact I have been eating so much fruit lately I think I may have done something to my body - allowed it to exist on natural fruit sugars instead of hardcore refined cane sugar in the form of baked goods and lollies. Anyway, the story of the day is about the mango. I do not like them. I have this idea that they taste like bruised fruit. Now I admit the last time I tried a mango was probably in childhood or sum such and obviously I have been scarred for life. The point is not as much my scarring, although I remembering more of it now that I am the presence of the mother - although perhaps I would call it "recollection of the conditioning"*, but the fact is that mum bought a tray of mangoes on Thursday, so I thought I would give them a crack. Today I tried a mango and ate it with yogurt for my breakfast. I HAVE BEEN MISSING OUT! This fruit is like eating incredibly awesome icecream. It has such a heave and compact texture. With the yoghurt this feast of senses is heightened to absolute esctacy! And its only 8.12am!

So today is the day of the Mango Enlightenment. It is also the day I pick Jo Jo up from the airport! Entertaining never did anything good with my stress levels or anxiety, but at least in Jo I know that she will tell me if she wants to do something in particular. Phew.

*something I should have used as a blog post heading. I need all the witticisms I can get living in pig fucker ville. Its soothes me. Also, just a comment on the conditioning. It is all pervasive and the evil devil. When I copy actions or words I feel like I am corrupted and fear the dark depths of my soul and my fragile yet unknowable sub-conscious. What heathen evils has she wrought that I have no perception of?

A pretty picture of a mango

No honey...

I have a few things to rant about today, so for brevity and precision point making, I will indeed be using a list.

1. I went to Cafez again on Saturday. It is a ritual my mother and her friend have. It is assumed I will always come, but that is another rant. I decided against a latte considering the last misadventure. I thought, "today I will have chai". Tea that is. Although chai means tea. Whatever. So chai I order and I get something vaguely resembling chai. I think it was all spices and no actual tea leaves. When I poured it into the cup and then added milk it looked like milky water. However, the greatest faux pas was that no honey was delivered with my mildly spiced hot water. NO HONEY? I asked if I could have some and was told that they did not normally serve chai with honey! Now I can drink chai without honey- in fact am happy to do so. However, the honey is what makes the chai so wonderful and smooths the spices so well. If I am wrong with the compulsory honey serving, then I will stand abashed.
   
2. 2:37. Now I have not looked up any information about this film. I am going on the dvd and the interviews with director/writer, producers and cast. I have one question. Who is the person that this film is dedicated to? I heard Murali say that he tried to kill himself and when that failed he decided to write a film. Sorry if that sounded trite. I enjoyed the film - well as much as you can enjoy a film about horrible things. However, and there are a few howevers. Firstly, I got the impression that I was watching a play/film written by a high school student. The dialogue was contrived and the directing was indulgent and obtuse. The subject matter was very involved and quite unbelievable. I thought perhaps the point was that we can never know who might commit suicide - we can never really see it coming. However I thought Murali was also saying that people who want to commit suicide should at least tell people they are upset at something. I think it might stem from the idea that people should be able to recognise the people around them. I saw the sympathy in the film, but I also saw a little nasty edge to it. Maybe it is only me. Now for the suicide ending. Horrible. Just horrible. Well filmed, well acted and quite poignant, but just awful to watch. I am not sure why it was relevant that we watched this person make this decision the way we did. The set up of the film is a mystery. Everyone in the film has a reason to kill themselves. Or so we are led to believe. The body is found but not identified at the beginning of the film and we try to determine who it is through a serious of flashbacks. Lovely technique - simple film, stunning steadi-cam and incredible music. Does everyone have to be so 'involved' in something hideous? All the character's issues are so heavy and so involved and so much. Teenage drama. Although, I guess it is about teenagers - but who is the audience? Anyway, the depiction of this suicide makes it look like it is a good decision to make. Now I am not saying that the film needed to or was obliged to make a moral stand, but I will say it was done without care. The character's motives were not explored nor were they even highlighted. I guess this works for the setup of not knowing who could commit suicide, but in this case, and with it being tied in with a graphic scene, it sours it for me. As for my criticism of the directing - most of the actors/characters I saw as part of that teenage poetry over-dramatic arm waving/wailing scene that befalls the young. I did it I am sure. However, when I saw it on screen I kinda went - boring! This is not what people think about or what they say. They certainly do not reveal that they are abused. And this is where I have my final issue with the film. The construction. So it goes: 1. find the body. 2. flashback to earlier in the day. 3. intersperse flashback with doco style characters talking to camera, revealing plots and secrets. 4. intersperse this with rewinding and seeing the same scene again from another viewpoint. OK, got it? So we realise late in the film that these doco clips are done after the suicide, and are specifically made regarding the suicide. 1. we then see a doco style clip of the suicidee when in logical fact, this would not have actually occurred. (note: this was one of the best doco clips with the best dialogue in it). 2. as said previously, the reveals the characters do/say in the doco clips are contrived and unbelievable, both as plot device and as dialogue. I am repeating myself. Oh well. Maybe I am so old now I do not know what young people say or not. Maybe I am being hyper-critical cos it is an Australian film. Anyway, I have to say that the boys were all really great in the film, particularly Charles Baird. Last note: I have not seen Elephant, but from what promos I have, this borrows very very heavily from the look + sound of that film. Steadicam beauty. Thanks Gus. As for Murali. I do think he has lots to offer Australia. I would love to see him do someone else's film and see how he handles it. I love that he did lots of rehersals and allowed to actors to contribute to the film. As a director, I wish him well. I will note him down for my own future reference. I'd like to see him do something with gritty urban violence.
   
3. Matrix Revolutions: Its great and for those of you who say it sucked, well you dont know what great film making is. I know that this sounds pig ignorant, especially compared to hyper-critical comments from above, but I can.
4. Children: I have come to realise that children learn best from stories. And not stories that are overtly moral. They have to be interesting and don't make them sound like they are from your own life and you are lecturing them with your own tales. I guess its an old and tried and true technique. It is strange that I find myself in this situation - as story teller to a child. I am hoping that what I asked her to reveal about herself through stories was not that traumatic. I did not shout, I simply asked for the truth. Hopefully this worked.
   
5. My mother is INSANE.
   

Conversation with a bot - it will never be love.

Type a number to choose a city.
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Why is it that all humans eventually tell me things like that?
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Money

It suddenly occurred to me how different siblings can be when they are grown up. We were all raised in the same house, but we all do things vastly differently although all of us have mannerisms and values copied from our mother. I know that personality differences is the answer, but it is fascinating to see it at work. Take money for example.

It was late night musings in bed. I suddenly wondered how much money I earned now. I had been looking for and applying for jobs all evening. Not that I wanted them. Anyway, I am applying for jobs with salaries of 40-55K. My sister had sung me the other day saying that there seemed to be a few jobs in my field and that the salaries were quite good. She sounded surprised.

I had wrote a cover letter for this mass mail out of jobs. My sister says I sound like I have something firmly lodged in my buttocks. I wanted to sound professional and not desperate. So this means I have anal issues. My sister could talk about her own for days. The point of adding this ancedote may become clearer later.

Anyway, my earnings at the moment are $11700 approx. When I was studying I was earning $15800. I have been on this kind of income for many years now, on and off. I am quite happy to not earn much money. Although I would be lying if I said I was always happy. Sometimes being poor is shit.

Both my sisters earn more money than the jobs I am applying for. For them, this money means something important to them. Both use it for different things, but it is something they like to boast about. Generous they are as well, there is no denying. But there is this sense of having pride in being able to look after the people they love. Nothing wrong with that either. All great stuff.

Back to me. My lack of money means that I am more selfish and less inclined to be generous. I do not buy Christmas presents, but one of my sisters is about to spend $120 on one for me. It shames me, but I also understand that sometimes people like to and need to spend money on other people to show that they care. Although that makes it sound simple. It is definitely not simple.

And in writing this post I fulfill and explain my own part in all of this money obsession. The complexity of the presence of money in our lives is entwined with ideas of fulfillment and status as well as happiness and how we care for each other.

My selfishness, as so described by my lack of money is only true in context to it. I suggest that others would not in fact call me selfish or lacking generosity. And so I believe I bypass the money consciousness. However, I am still trying.

The Weekend

Fremantle's Esplanade Hotel

Some mall and cafe stuff

I used to live across the road from this beach.

I am currently in Perth. For the weekend. I have eaten lunch in Fremantle and swum in the pool at my sister's house. I have bought a new top and ate breakfast in an empty resturant before opening time. My tan is coming along fine and my life is other people's hospitality plus transience. All is OK, if not flux.

Some pics of Fremantle above. Again I forgot my camera so must rely on someone else's visual interpretation. I guess I choose it. I was telling Beth today of my plans to take Jo there and show her the good lolling, browsing, quaffing and eating that can be done. Oh and golf.

Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2007 09:38:02 +0900
From: xxxxx.xxxxxxx@gmail.com
To: xxxxx@hotmail.com
Subject: [Fwd: RE: Perth visit]

How strange are the things we leave behind! Please, do what you want with the books. I thought I had thrown all the misbound ones out (the ones with a cover missing). The rest were supposed to go to the Salvos or somewhere. I did take books to the savlos, but must have overlooked those ones. Please, if you could bring the sunglasses and Hannah's hat. These are both hers and presents from James. The stone doll thing with yellow hair - now that is a funny story. My auntie gave it to Hannah when we went to her house whilst they were in Melbourne and my mum was grumpy cos it is made of stone and we could ill afford excess weight -particularly if it was rocks! The added bonus of course is that it is hideous and ugly. But hey, Hannah said she liked it. Anyway, mum and I conspired to get it out of Hannah's suitcase so we could put it in the bin. We rightly realised Hannah would easily forget it (as with almost all the trinkets she bought on her travels). PLEASE, throw it in the bin! Lastly, the bottle and the internet cord. The bottle I forgot I left. I brought it with me to Melbourne in 2000. I can live without it, but if you can bring it over, then I would like to have it with me again. The internet cord is 25 metres long. I have no use for it whatsoever, however Alfio will. I can call him and get him to pick it up. If you like, leave it on the front porch on a chair or whatever and he can pickup later. When I told him I forgot to deal with it before I left, he was grumbly. So, if it is OK, I will get him to come and get. Maybe he can come tonight or tomorrow tonight - Pie will probably be in musicaking it up I am sure!
Thanks for the email!
It will be great to see you on the weekend! I am hoping Saturday night is a goer for you. Talk to you Friday afternoon.
Ciao for now xx

-------- Original Message --------

Subject:	RE: Perth visit
Date:	Wed, 10 Jan 2007 10:53:39 +1100
From:	xxxxx@hotmail.com
To:	xxxxx.xxxxxxx@gmail.com

Hey sis,

Was wondering which of the following you would like me to bring tonight....

blue internet cord
hannah's pink hat
sunglasses
doll with yellow fuzzy hair (inside portmans bag)
colourful bottle - circular pyramid shape
books...

See you soon.
xx

New stuff

I have decided that in lieu of writing a book I should watch tv shows on dvd and gather intelligence on screen writing. My current focus dvd's are: Fourth series of Coupling, The League of Gentlemen's Christmas Special and feature (Apocalypse), Series One of Yes Minister and Series One of Deadwood. the sci-fi section was completely devoid of tv series' and i thought they must not have had any, but I now realise that they are probably all out - all the time. Sci-fi nerds lurk under every stone.

Not a thing...

I don't really have anything to write about. No witty observations about Bunbury, its people or its proximity to the most isolated city in the world. I do have a small piece of news. I drank another latte. Incorrectly frothed, but not so bad. Its at a cafe in Bunbury Centrepoint called Good Temptations. Semi-hippy.
There in fact is much going on in my life right now. The irony of this is that I am at my mum's house and everything is going on far far away from me, oh and in my head, which is often far away. These big things are consuming me, but I feel distant from them. I guess that is why I decided to come here. Some would call it running away, I would call it distance to aid in perception which inevitably ends in a dullness of emotion that allows you to forget. Oh, I guess that is running away. Fuck. Its not even a big deal. Someone told me last night that I over-react, that I stress too much. Where is my Vipassana now?
I have noticed that mum does not always need an answer. Vipassana helps me with seeing more clearly my mother's real intentions. Thanks.
I need to write a book.

Sisters of Mercy - More

One more for the goths! Thanks to SOM!! This song still rocks! The lead singer is HOT. Temple of Love is worth a check out.

The Cult - She sells sanctuary (live tv 1985)

Another song from my youth. Long live guitar rock!

Curve - Fait Accompli

A bit of random nostaglia. This band reminds me of being 18, going out to the Firm, dying my hair black for the first time, getting a nose ring, being angry with the world and wanting to express myself, but not knowing how.
This was back when alternative was actually alternative. I wore my hair like this chick. This film clip was so sexual to me, so full of raw energy. Such a simple idea, such a great song.

Joy to the world!

I found a place! Vat2 employs a barista or at least someone who has been trained. It was unfortunate that I went late afternoon as I could only have decaf, however the lattes were done to perfection! I was so excited I had two! Vat2 is a restaurant more than cafe, but it is perfectally acceptable to loaf there. It is part of the TAFE training program for apprentice chefs plus hospitality staff and management trainees. Thank goodness for strict and appropriate training.

Well there goes the weather...

Its raining. Large drops of rain. Its not cold though. Everything here makes me feel joy at the moment. Even the argument I had with my mum this morning. Well, maybe not. Even the rain is warm in summer. It would be awesome to go swimming at the beach now.
I do have an issue with Bunbury though. It is crippling me, but hopefully today my dismay will be assuaged. Where have all the good cafe lattes gone? OH GOD ITS HORRIBLE! Everytime I go into a cafe now I ask what size the latte glass is and every time so far I get presented with a huge mug of fart inducing proportions. One shot of coffee, lots a warm milk and we have digestion issues in the Gibbons family. It would be the same for most people. Drinking hot milk with the flavour of burnt coffee - its a wonder Bunbury is not contributing significant emissions to greenhouse gases. I have started asking for cappuccinos with no chocolate. There in itself presents a problem. The way coffee is made in Bunbury is to pour scalded milk over a shot of coffee (sometimes the coffee is not burnt and even rarer, the coffee has a good flavour), and then the bubbly white froth is spooned on the top, creating a lovely white cloud of aerated bubbles. I have left two coffees sitting at the table with only two mouthfuls taken out of them...so far. Of course all of this is my humble opinion, but it makes me want to show these people how it is done. And I can't even make a good latte consistently. Maybe I should lobby the council for compulsory barista courses for Bunbury cafes. Today I am going to a swanky cafe and if I don't get a decent cafe latte, I am going to cry.
Experiences so far:

Poco Loco: in the Centrepoint shopping centre in town. Looks good, especially the food, but beware the oversize cups and prices. Had a cappuccino and drank it, under sufferance. Scalded milk.

Well Fed Cafe: in the Crosslands shopping centre. An old style cafe (see: coffee shop) with lots of plastic chairs and tables and sausage rolls on the menu. I shouldn't rag the sausage roll as the Green in Brunswick has them, but they are homemade and awesome. Anyway, couldn't drink the cappuccino at this place. Was revolting. Scalded to within a inch of its life. Coffee burnt as well. There should be a license in order to own a coffee machine.

Caffez Coffee: again with the oversize cups! This cafe is in one of the main streets in town. Last time I was here, in September 2005, I had an awesome soy latte here. This time was sans soy and badly frothed. Apparently this establishment has changed hands since I was last in. Nice coffee beans though. I felt like I should tell them that they were almost there. Another interesting point was that the cafe says they have free wireless access. I took my laptop, not for net access, but to write, anyway, I tried to access the network and it did not work. I did not pursue it, however, a service promised was not provided. If I am going to be a stickler, I may as well go the whole hog. Incidentally, I ate here as well. Two poached eggs on toast. Nothing exciting. One piece of toast, not toasted well. Not value for money.


Lastly, I have another photo of Bunbury I stole off the net. I am going to start taking my own soon, but I can not take one like this. I live far to the left of this frame. Where ever my mum has to go though, she almost always takes us on the beach road, which runs along the top of the land mass in the picture. Its a great view every time. The curve of the beach goes all the way to Busselton and Dunsborough, which is a 30 minute drive further down the coast. When its clear you can can see the land go all the way around. When in Dunsborough, you can see the lights of Bunbury.