Causes for Celebration

Lynda, my cousin currently living in Sydney, is living in Bronte, a suburb near the (in)famous Bondi Beach. Having been to Bondi Beach last year, I have to confess to preferring Bronte beach, a quieter, more pleasant shoreline, with a tree-shaded park area for picnics and barbeques. One of the first things I did when I got to the house was go to the beach, though, except for one brief visit on Friday, I didn't get there again. During Christmas I will rectify that.

Lynda lives with four girls - Julie, Rachel, Niamh, and Niamh - though one of the Niamh's brother, Ronan, is staying a few days too. I met up with Linda on Tuesday and that night poor Julie was rushed into hospital with stomach pains. They sent her home again only for her to be rushed in again with a burst appendix. She is still suffering in hospital, though on the mend. Get well soon, Julie.

With the exception of Rachel, everyone seems to have a part-time job, leaving them lots of time to recover from the marathon nights out they enjoy. Last Friday, for instance, we headed out to O'Malley's in Kings Cross, then The Empire and then The Gaff on Oxford Street. That night was a respectable 4 o'clock home coming. Saturday was the 21st birthday of a friend of theirs', Pip (Simon), who looks a lot younger than 21. After meeting in The Palace in Coogee beach, we headed to the Irish bar, P.J. O'Brien's, off George Street, and then The Gaff again. That was a healthy 6 o'clock home time. There is much joy to be had in watching the sun come up while eating a burger in Hungry Jack's. The girls have a large group of friends, so no one is ever left alone. Sadly I have no scandal to report. I will be returning to them for Christmas week when no doubt such a state of affairs will change.

I organised a coach to Melbourne for Sunday, a 12 hour stint, starting at 7 in the evening and arriving 6.45 the next morning. Initially I had two seats to myself and was as happy as a pig in whatever makes a pig happy. A late pickup, however, sat a Japanese gentleman beside me, one all elbows and knees. Then the little bald-headed hippy in the seat in front of me pushed back his chair, only he had a 'super-chair', capable of puching back at least twice as far as any other. He was in my lap, Mr Japanese was in my side. Not much sleep then. Through a strategic use of my knees I got the hippy to move forward to a more respectable distance, while my cd player formed a barrier to my left (well, I had to put it somewhere). I dozed then, but it's been a groggy morning. Naturally 6.45 is a little early for checking in to my hotel (a budget place of St Kilda), so I've had some time to eat breakfast and write this.

While on the coach, I read some of Nathaniel West's 'The Day of the Locust'. I still have memories of having seen John Schlesinger's film adaptation when I was a child, especially Burgess Meredith's antic vaudeville routine and Donald Sutherland, all plastered down hair and googly eyes, standing stupified after doing something horrible. In a way I am sort of sorry I did see the movie, because I cannot but see Harry Greener or Homer Simpson as any people but Meredith and Sutherland. And yes, I did write Homer Simpson; Sutherland plays the original Homer Simpson who is definitely not Homer Simpson, if you know what I mean! Of course, Karen Black is not Faye Greener (I see Tuesday Weld), and Atherton, known principally as the obnoxious reporter in the Die Hard movies, is nondescript enough for Tod Hackett, but not the first face to spring to mind. The bleakness of the book recalls '1984', particularly as an uneasy tribute to humanity's capacity for self-degradation. Adopting the impersonal third person, West presents vulgarity, pretension and cruelty without apparent judgment, almost with celebration, making irony never less than a word away. I suppose in this he most clearly recalls the cold, masterful horror of Shirley Jackson (the Queen of Cruelty). So yes, Hollywood, horror and depravity, I guess you could say I am enjoying it.

On a happier note, I see that General Pinochet has died. The world is a brighter place.

Hey, I have just seen that I have an entry on the IMDB! Now I have hit the big time. Actually it's from a little work I did on a short film years ago called "Scarecrow", but I'm chuffed all the same.