I think I developed a slight crush tonight on the American politician, Jim McGreevey, who featured prominently on a documentary on SBS television about American politics and homosexuality.
He was the Governor of New Jersey who resigned after admitting to an extra-marital relationship with a man, thus ending both his political career, as well as his marriage. He’s quite charismatic, and physically, he’s of that clean cut, slightly nerdy look that I quite like.
The focus for the documentary – called “Outrage” – was on “closeted” American politicians.
The main narrative concerned the outing of a number of mostly conservative American politicians whose voting record was at odds with their personal lives. That is, they voted against a whole range of pro-gay legislation, and often spoke openly against gay issues, but in their personal lives were either married to a woman, or remained single, but who still engaged in same-sex sexuality activity.
It wasn’t entirely judgemental, though. There was a degree of sympathy for these men who, for a range of reasons, chose to live lives which may not have been at the essence of their core as an individual. They were of a different time. They had religious beliefs. There again, you have the simple life choices that we all make. There were many reasons offered to explain why they were the way they are, so it wasn’t entirely polemical.
I thought it was a really great documentary. I was amazed by the honesty and the way the documentary featured people who spoke openly about their relationships – including some sexual detail – with politicians. I doubt Australian defamation laws would have coped all that well with a documentary like this one.
For as long as I’ve lived in Surry Hills, I’ve been quite intrigued by a warehouse located on Wiltshire Street. It’s remained a bit of a mystery for me. I’ve never known how many people live in there or what they do. But they’ve always held some fascination for me, as I’ve imagined a “Barbery Lane”-like living arrangement you might associate with “Tales Of The City”
They’ve held legendary laneway parties. They’ve experimented with some artwork, including a concrete television. And they’ve maintained a gorgeous “garden in tubs” which has helped decorate an otherwise unimpressive laneway.
But as I wandered this morning I noticed the garden was gone, and there was a message on the footpath that someone had stolen the television, and therefore they’ve decided to remove the garden. I think it’s really sad that some prick stole the television, and that our laneway has lost the garden. I hope the person who stole the television sees this post and returns it. It’s obviously really had an impact on the group of people in the warehouse who’ve been sharing a bit of art and love with the rest of us who live closeby for many years.The other thing which surprised me as I wandered down to Central Station was the lone anti-abortion protester on Devonshire Street. I, for one, had no idea there was an abortion clinic on Devonshire Street. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. I don’t know. I was also quite surprised to see a protest like this one. Maybe I need to get out more? I was completely unaware of this type of protest going on in Australia. Thirty or forty years ago you might have seen something like this, but I was a little surprised to to see it in a nearby street. It’s the kind of thing you might associate with the United States, but certainly not Australia, and not in this decade.
I was on my way to catch up with some mates who’ve recently bought an apartment together, and who are now looking to decorate. “It’s like watching you in some kind of reality tv show”, I said to them as we wandered around IKEA. Neither has really displayed much of an interest in home decoration in the past, so it was fascinating to see the transformation. I was perhaps more interested in the obvious signs of Swedish language, as I walked around and pronounced as many words as I possibly could. I was also looking at the Swedish texts on the bookshelves, which I note include a copy of a biography of the re-elected Swedish Prime Minister, Fredrik Reinfeldt called, “En av oss?” (“One Of Us”?)
We also had a bite to eat in the cafe, I signed up to be part of the “IKEA Family” (their new loyalty program), and I bought a few Swedish food items from the shop. Oddly enough, going with my friends today with a “sense of purpose” (as opposed to wandering around aimlessly) actually made the trip quite enjoyable. Curiously enough, even though we were shopping with a sense of purpose for my two mates, I ended up spending more than they did. While they measured and snapped lots of photographs of different items, they didn’t actually buy anything except for a couple of stools so they have something to sit on in their new apartment.
Swedish Texts at IKEA
As I came home this afternoon I went and had another look at the note on the concrete. I’d hoped maybe the person who stole the television had returned it. Unfortunately not.
Thankfully though, the people in the warehouse continue to share their beautiful garden wall with us.
Since my health challenges began a couple of years ago, I’ve discovered the power of short naps. Living with an amputation and diabetes, combined perhaps with getting older, means I need several naps throughout the day, and they make a world of difference.
With the amputation, I’m putting more strain on my remaining leg. I’m walking further and more intensely than before. I’ve read estimates that the workload on the remaining limb can increase by 30 to 50 percent. And with diabetes, I experience fatigue related to my diet and how my body processes food.
My first nap is usually not long after I wake up. After getting sick, I’ve gradually shifted my wake-up time earlier, now around 5:30 or 6 a.m, as I did previously. I get up, check my blood sugar, take my medication, have breakfast, and then go back to sleep for a while. I find that after this short second sleep, I wake up feeling completely rejuvenated and ready for the day. It’s truly transformative.
Sometimes I’ll have another short nap later in the morning, maybe just five or ten minutes.
Then another after lunch, and one more in the late afternoon before dinner.
These frequent naps probably indicate my body needs extra rest, or perhaps they’re related to fluctuating blood sugar levels – something I need to explore further. But I also know they significantly improve my quality of life. Just a short period of rest leaves me feeling refreshed.
Of course, I also have longer, more restorative naps, especially on weekends or days off.
I realize everyone’s experience is different, but this is my reality now: incorporating these intermittent periods of rest into my day. Beyond the physical rejuvenation, I find them mentally restorative as well. Taking a moment to close my eyes, relax, and reflect is beneficial for my mental well-being.
So, my message is this: if you feel the need for a nap, there might be underlying medical reasons to consider. But also, don’t underestimate the positive impact naps can have on your life.
It’s Monday night. I’m at work updating this Online Diary. And I’m having a few beers… so if there are some typos, please understand. Since I last wrote I’ve done some amazing things.
On Saturday afternoon, I paid a visit to Darwin’s World War 2 Oil Storage Tunnels. I can’t really recall why I didn’t visit them a couple of years ago with Damien, but I’m really pleased I have now.
They’re worth a visit for both their historic and artistic values. The tunnels were dug into the cliff to protect fuel from Japanese bombing, but there, apparently, were never very effective. Even today, the tunnels leak from the vast underground water supply that is found underneath Darwin. Of the six tunnels, one is now open to the public. Despite the best intentions, by June 1942 after 19 Japanese air raids, only one sound tank remained, with 20,529 tons of oil lost from the destroyed tanks.
Darwin Oil Tunnels
Located inside the tunnels are about 100 wartime photographs that portray both a humorous and more serious side of the bombing sixty years ago of Darwin. Other photographs also portray, for example, the grave of an unidentified grave of a Japanese soldier, the actual bombing of Darwin, and the ration books.
I also paid a visit to what is possibly, Darwin’s most unique attraction, Aquascene. Every day in Darwin, on high tide, literally hundreds of fish – milkfish, mullet, catfish, and rays – arrive at Doctor’s Gully at the Northern End of the City Centre. And for over forty years, members of the public have been hand-feeding them.
As the tides in Darwin are quite large, high tide is the only time of the day when the water reaches a level where the public can easily come into close contact with the fish. During low tide, the water is 500m away from the coastline, so it’s only during high tide that it’s possible to see the fish up close and personal. Fishing is banned in the area, in an effort to maintain stocks, as prescribed in the Northern Territory’s Fisheries Management Plan.
The fish-feeding enterprise, run by Aquascene, is a privately run business. While the property is still primarily a private residence, it is opened up to the public each day for feeding. Opening times are totally dictated by tidal movements and change from day today.
I know my Saturday night sounds boring… but I spent Saturday night watching “The Bill” and “Parkinson”. I’m a little bored with the storyline of the young girl who can’t afford to pay her rent and who has to bludge off her friends.
On Sunday, I was invited by Michael, who works at the radio station, to spend the afternoon hanging around, having a few beers, and a few laughs.
Afterwards, we went to the movies to watch the new Kevin Kline movie, “Life As A House”. I’ve never been a Kevin Kline fan, I always thought he over-acted in a Meryl Streep kind of way, and he didn’t disappoint me. While Michael and his friend, Todd, spent half the movie crying, I found myself bored by the predictability of the film. Although I think there are some good moments in the movie, the moments of emotion are, in my view, contrived. I’m sure it will be very successful.
After a full-day at work, I went along with Penny to the Darwin Rural Hash House Event. About half the crowd ran for a few kilometres, while the other half went for a “power walk”. The group describes itself as “drinkers with a running problem”. One of the members of the group, the man who supplies the keg, actually has the “Kegman” number plate. But the walk also offers amazing scenes of the landscape of the Northern Territory. I’ll be visiting again soon. It was a good fun night, with a certain undergraduate feel, but highly enjoyable.
In almost the same way that I carried around my new “T-Box” last night, my friend Graeme carried around a box for much of the day and the night. This is the way it is when you have things delivered to your work address because it’s near impossible to organise a home delivery when you work 9-5 weekdays. I shan’t reveal what’s in Graeme’s box, as it’s a bit of a surprise. All I can say is that its bloody heavy. After the summer break, we resumed “normal transmission” tonight. For me, that’s a combination of Swedish class followed by beers and dinner with mates at the pub.
Swedish classes recommenced for 2011 with two new students. One has a Swedish mother, and actually lived and taught in Sweden for a while back in the 1970s. The other comes from Russia, but has also lived in Sweden. It makes for a wonderfully diverse and interesting group of people. Even if I had no interest in learning Swedish, I think I’d still like to go to class :) Tonight’s class was a real job, though it’s becoming increasingly clear we’re a group of people with little interest in grammar and such, and more interest in conversation.
After class, I grabbed a cab and made my way to the pub to catch up with mates. One of the regular crew has been in hospital for an operation, so it was good to see him back and, despite a bit of pain, feeling not so bad. And then of course, there was Graeme and his box. An odd addition to the evening, but it’s great that life is back to normal on a Wednesday night. I love it.
When I woke this morning there were two stories on the radio that caught my attention.
First, there was that stupid story from England about the parents “in trouble” for allowing their children to walk/cycle to school. Honestly…
And second, on a more local level, there was the story about an overnight explosion, fire, and emergency on nearby Cleveland Street.
According to all the reports this morning, it’s a case of suspected arson. As it’s reasonably close to where I lived, I’d like to say I could have been an eye-witness. I could have seen the blokes alleged to have committed the arson running from the scene.
And yet, the truth is I slept right through it. Slept like a log. There’s a Walkley Award I won’t be getting a nomination for :(
On the bright side, I’m feeling much better today. I’m still congested, my voice remains croaky, and I’m about 70%. So, even though I’ve missed out on Australian journalism’s highest prize, I’ve had a good night’s sleep and I feel much better.
“I don’t know if I can go to work tomorrow”, I told Colin over a drink tonight.
“I’m bloody exhausted. So much has happened this week. And a lot of it quite draining. And I’m really tired”, I told him as we sat in the bar at The Ensemble Theatre.
The day started off with participation in a forum about “The Media” for a group of young students who are Muslim. Amongst the many issues we dealt with were representation in the media, participation in the workforce, and the difficulties in accurately covering the complexities of any religion.
“Could you describe the difference between a Jehovah’s Witness, a Mormon, a Seventh Day Adventist and a Catholic?” one of the participants asked at one point. Unless, of course, you were a journalist who had some degree of specialisation in religion, of course, the answer is no. That doesn’t mean you don’t try to understand and to accurately portray issues, the argument went, but it was worth noting that most journalists are generalists.
My central argument was about broader representation in the workplace leading to a better understanding of a range of issues. “Twenty years ago”, I noted, most newsrooms were overwhelmingly male. In the same way that having a closer to even representation of women in the journalist workplace has, hopefully, led to a better understanding of a broader range of issues, I hoped a broader workplace participation by a broader range of people would lead to a better understanding of all Australians and thus better journalism.
At the end the discussion one woman, rather shyly, wanted to make the point that being Muslim is an important part of her life and identity, but not the only identifier.
It was a really terrific discussion and I was pleased to be part of it.
And then tonight, in stark contrast, I went to the play, “The Little Dog Laughed” at Ensemble.
“I read some reviews online. And apparently there’s some male nudity in the play”, I overheard someone say to another as we made our way towards our seats.
“Looking around the crowd tonight, I don’t think it’s going to be problem”, came the response.
He was referring to the significant gay male audience attending tonight’s play.
Although most times I visit The Ensemble, the audience is older, quite Anglo, and quite “North Shore”, tonight the audience was reasonably young (30s to 50s), with a lot of gay men attending.
And why not? The play is about the complex life of an American actor on the verge of “greatness” in Hollywood, but who treads the difficult line between his personal life (as a mostly closeted gay man), and his professional life.
The complicating factor is that he pretty much falls in life with a young rent boy he hires for the night.
The twist, however, is that the rent boy falls in love with him, also, despite having a girlfriend that has recently become pregnant.
I won’t go too much further, and thus spoil the plot, but it’s a story with a good plotline, and it’s not in any way shape or form, predictable.
We both enjoyed the play immensely. Colin, in particular, was very enthusiastic in his appraisal of the play, and of the cast who he described as having excellent timing, and having worked together in a really good way. We have seen a couple of the actors – James Millar and Lindsay Farris (a bit of a star) – in previous productions, though were unfamiliar with the work of Alexa Ashton and Alexandra Fowler (terrific, as the actor’s agent). We both agreed they were a well chosen cast. “And they got the accents RIGHT”, Colin noted.
“It’s great when you can see a play and you think about your own life, and the choices you’ve made”, I reflected as we sat at the end of the night enjoying a glass of wine.
It’s a play I’d highly recommend, though a word of warning… despite having read the online reviews of previous overseas productions… this particular production does NOT contain nudity.
PS. In the midst of all this, Colin and I managed to fit in a bite to eat at Garfish at Kirribilli (very nice soft-shell crab), and I went along to a brief after-work drinks with some colleagues at an organisation I deal with through work.
