Monday
After yesterday’s festivities which were loads of fun, I have nothing to report. I went to work, did my job, and came home to an evening of watching stuff on air and online. See you tomorrow.
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My Sunday
I had to be at work this morning at about 7.30 to head out to the Royal Easter Show. I woke, of course, just after the alarm on my mobile phone went off at 6am. I only pressed the snooze button once and was up and ready for the world at about 6.15. Feeling good about life, I got up and went for a walk around the block, before returning home for a shower at about 7am. At about 7.20, I put a call in to my colleague June to tell her I’d be there in about 15 minutes, ahead of going out to Homebush. No answer. That’s odd, I thought, but I just assumed she must have been busy.
On getting into a cab I looked at the time on the clock. It was 8.30am. “I think you need to re-set your clock, mate, it’s the wrong time”, I said. To which he replied, “No no it’s right”. At that point I showed him my mobile phone with the time still clearly 7.30am. I then got on to June who also told me it was 8.30am, though another colleague Tim also insisted it was 7.30am. When it was clear to me it wasn’t, I rang Tim, urgently telling him we were bothan hour late.
Clearly both Tim and I were victims of the modern technological era. We both rely on our mobile phones as alarm clocks. And while the cleverness of our mobile phones acknowledged the whole world was changing back to regular standard time (and changed accordingly), they hadn’t realised in NSW our time change doesn’t happen for a further week.
In chatting to an older bloke – he would have been about 60 years old – he told me his son called him this morning asking him “dad what time is it?”. Clearly he was in the same boat and it wouldn’t surprise me if there were many other people who were late for work today. Early adopters and younger Australians beware – don’t rely too heavily on modern technology.
Anyway, it was a fun day at the Royal Easter Show, even if it was more work than pleasure today. With just a limited amount of time to wander and enjoy, I concentrated on my favourite exhibits – livestock and produce.
After walking around for a while I looked back at my mobile phone. In changing the time zone to accommodate the daylight saving time situation, some of calendar information (synched with Outlook and Google) is now inaccurate – shit – shit – shit, but at least I’ll be able to get up on time tomorrow. I hope.
The Meaning Of Life
You know how at the end of “The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy”, the meaning of life is famously revealed as “forty-two”? Reading the book as a child, I thought it was just a nonsense way of saying there is no universal meaning of life.
Many years later, and having interviewed Douglas Adams, I now think he was probably saying forty-two was about the age at which you discover your own meaning of life. Deep eh?
Forty-two is also about the number of beers I drank last night for my birthday drinks at “The Evening Star”.
Although I’ve been anticipating it for a while, and unlike most years, had actually given some thought to a drinks celebration, turning forty-two kinda surprised me when it arrived. I’ve been really busy at work lately, and so have been reasonably distracted until, all of a sudden, it happened.
I’ve always been fairly conscious of the multiples of seven birthdays though. Long before new-age thinking, I remember, as a child, my dad telling me life life goes through seven year cycles. I still remember the conversation vividly, as it just seemed to come out of nowhere, though it was obviously something my dad believed.
According to one new-age site…
The forty-second year brings a major change because it is the polarity of the twenty-eighth year. Here, the integration of the whole self occurs. The view is not, “World, what can you give me?” as in the twenty-eighth year, but, “World what have I got to give you?” It is the realization of all the growth that has occurred and the ability to use it in its most productive way.
At forty-two, you may begin to have doubts about your life. These doubts are not negative. They are based on the growth gained in the interim years between thirty-five and forty-two. This creates an ability to question whether you wish to maintain your life as it is or whether new changes are imminent. Doubt can be positive if it is leading you to be suspect of something in your life that is not good for you.
If past experience is anything to go by, I suspect changes in my life may also be imminent. Aged twenty-two, I quit my job at Coles and left Brisbane for Bourke in Western NSW (a big change) to follow my career dream. Aged twenty-nine, I fulfilled another long-term career goal, and also moved to Sydney. Aged thirty-six, I became single again, ending a reasonably long-relationship, and soon-after started on a new direction in my career. So strictly speaking, the changes in my life occur about twelve months after one of those multiple of seven birthdays.
And now, aged forty-two, like the hippies say, I find myself questioning my life again and wondering what’s next. I’m planning overseas travel next year, of maybe two or three months duration, so maybe that will be an opening to the next part of my life.
But in the meantime, it was great last night to get together and have a few drinks with mates. As previously noted, I have a broad cross-section of friends, and it was very nice to see them getting to meet each other last night. I loved hearing from workmates comments like “Your friends are VERY nice”, and hearing from friends comments like, “The people you work with are VERY interesting”. Maybe that’s what the meaning of life is – being surrounded by interesting, lovely people.
Melodifestivalen 2014 #2
There was a real sense of déjà vu in the second heat of this year’s Melodifestivalen, the contest which decides which act will represent Sweden at the Eurovision Song Contest.
In 2005, in controversial circumstances, Sweden chose Martin Stenmarck with his song “Las Vegas” (which I liked a lot) over Nanne Grönvall with her song “Håll om mig” (which I liked a lot more). Nanne had the popular vote (chosen by viewers), but was trumped by Martin who had the jury vote (chosen by a group of experts). There was a public outcry over the result, and the rules surrounding Melodifestivalen have since changed.
Nanne is a fantastic performer who I’ve seen perform on a few occasions and actually met once at a shopping centre performance in Stockholm. I shot this Youtube clip at Stockholm’s Paradise nightclub.
Martin Stenmark is back as a contender in Melodifestivalen this year.
But so too was Nanne. Or to be precise, her sons Charlie and Felix and their band “Little Great Things” were competing against Martin Stenmarck and several others in the second heat of this year’s Melodifestivalen. Or to add to the sense of the musical dynasty Charlie and Felix came from, their father is Peter (who was an 80s/90s pop star in Sweden), and their paternal grandfather is Benny Andersson from ABBA.
In the end, their song wasn’t that great and never made it through to the final (while Martin Stenmarck did).
After my disappointment with last week’s heat, I was slightly more impressed with this week’s contenders, though I still don’t think there’s been a serious contender for Eurovision yet
Sanna Nielson was back with another predictable Frederik Kempe ballad (though she performed it extraordinarily well, I thought). There was some nameless country music act. There was a dance number written by Thomas G:son (who wrote the Eurovision-winning Euphoria). There was also a band called Pink Pistols (which included two drag queens and a guy called Mikael – who I’ve also met – from the band Hallå hela pressen) which I thought were okay. But with the exception of Pink Pistols and the band, Panetoz and their rap/reggae number “Efter solsken” (After sunshine), it’s all very safe, predictable and rather boring. Panetoz, by the way is a band with members originating from Gambia, Ethiopia, Angola, Congo and Finland-Sweden.
So in summary, Heat 2 was better than Heat 1 (though the show’s hosts haven’t improved), but there’s still nothing which I think stands a serious chance of representing Sweden at this year’s Eurovision Song Contest.
They’re a bunch of trouble makers!
“They’re a bunch of troublemakers” was the phrase used by the father of the artist Jennifer Herd, warning her about joining the Aboriginal Arts Collective, ProppaNOW.
Other artists present at the exhibition laughed in ageeement.
One of them, Richard Bell, is a strong character whose powerful and politically charged artwork has garnered a lot attention over the years. I wrote a blog post about a film documenting his life story on my blog a couple of years ago. It’s worth checking out. https://thelimbshift.com/2023/02/doco/
Another artist participating in the panel discussion was Tony Albert, perhaps best known for his work in Hyde Park, Sydney.
Given that Anzac Day was the day before, talking about his work seemed appropriate, especially in light of what happened with the interruption to the Welcome to Country in Melbourne, when the ANZAC Dawn Service there was interrupted by right-wing protestors.
Listening to commercial radio, you would think it was far worse to have a Welcome to Country than it was to have people shout out and disrupt the dawn service.
Tony’s work in Hyde Park powerfully addresses war, directly acknowledging the significant contributions of Aboriginal diggers who have served Australia for many years. https://www.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/monuments-and-memorials/yininmadyemi-thou-didst-let-fall
Tony shared his grandfather’s experience as a prisoner of war in Europe and recounted how some Aboriginal soldiers who served overseas during the Boer War faced difficulties returning to Australia – a little-known and truly compelling story – because of the White Australia Policy.
All three artists were part of a panel discussing the “Occurrent Affair” exhibition, which has been touring galleries around Australia, showcasing numerous politically charged works.
Tony Albert noted that Lismore Regional Gallery was initially intended to be the exhibition’s first venue, except a few things “got in the way,” referring to the catastrophic Lismore flood of 2022. While it has since been displayed at other galleries, this showing is planned to be its last.
Attending this exhibition talk was a really interesting way to get to know more about its context and to hear from some of the artists. It was wonderful that the talk was facilitated by Rhoda Roberts, a nationally known Indigenous writer, broadcaster, and artist who comes from Lismore and, after many years in Sydney, is now living back home.
Friday Night
“Stop it James”, a colleague said to me in the cafe at work at around lunch-time.
He walked up to me, thinking I was checking email on my blackberry or something like that.
Instead, I was sending a text to Graeme to see if he felt like a beer after work.
My colleague was much relieved.
What was going to be a reasonably quiet and simple drink after work, of course, turned into a bigger night on the town.
It wasn’t all boozing though, as we managed to have a bite to eat at that great Mexican place on Crown Street, and later we caught up with Andrew and David at the final Bears Night at The Flinders, at which I was the only person dressed in a suit. A fun night.
As I walked home at about midnight, though, in a very sober state, a few things along the way also made me smile.
* I loved the people playing “Intercom Karaoke” at the St Margaret’s Complex. “Ring Ring, why don’t you give me a call”, they sang into the karaoke from their upstairs apartment to anyone who would listen passing by on Bourke Street.
* I loved the look on the face of a prominent Australian actor when I kinda stared at him as he walked past. I respected his privacy and he respected mine. It wasn’t until about 5 seconds after he passed that I recognised him.
* I love passing the street-pashers. There must have been two or three couples having a pash on the street as they came out of nearby bars.
And…
* I loved the shop window I snapped a photograph of.
He’s had a “fall”
It’s so incredibly frustrating to be back in the hospital! I already had four months of hospital stays after my lower right leg amputation in 2023, and now this! I tripped and fell on my way home the other night, and I’ve cracked some ribs and broken my right hip. Talk about a bummer. This time, I’m in for a week or maybe even longer of rehab.
It’s a constant reminder of how much of a risk falls pose for leg amputees. I’ve been living with my amputation for 18 months and even had special training on fall prevention.
The fall itself was a bit of a nightmare. I felt the pain immediately, and it was excruciating. I was also winded, and in a bit of shock. Thankfully, Jenny, who works at the bar nearby, saw me and came to my aid. She helped me back to my apartment, got my wheelchair, and even helped me up to my lounge room. She was a lifesaver, that’s for sure. I spent a miserable night on the couch, too exhausted to even reach my bed.
The next morning, I tried using the fall recovery techniques I learned, but the pain and fatigue were just too much. I couldn’t move off the floor several for hours. Calling an ambulance was the last thing I wanted to do, especially since I live alone and couldn’t get up to answer the door if they arrived. But eventually, I messaged my neighbor Alexis, who’s been a huge help over the years. She rushed over with the spare keys I gave her and found me lying there in a heap.
Together, we tried to get me up, but it was impossible. Even when the paramedics arrived, they had a hard time moving me despite my smallish size. It just goes to show how difficult it can be to help someone with a recent injury, especially an amputee.
At the hospital, they confirmed the rib fractures and broken hip. The doctor explained my options, and since I’m still quite young and active, they recommended a full hip replacement rather than a half-replacement which can often need an update.
This whole experience has really made me appreciate my community and the importance of having a strong support system. Jenny’s quick thinking and Alexis’s help were crucial, and the paramedics provided excellent care. But it also reminds me how real the risk of falls is for amputees. It’s a constant challenge, and I need to stay vigilant.