/karen/

So it was

Sunday, 22 January, 2006

Friday

Ben wants to record a CD. Of his music. Yes, it is a little known fact that Ben writes music. All week he has been trying to record. This is very exciting for me because I keep saying to him, “If you die, I will never hear this music again.”

We rose early and drove to Wollongong and woke up Pakman at his house. I went and set up in the dining room—I had work to do. I've picked up some transcription work but it's all interview stuff and it took me longer than I thought. Plus, it wasn't a good idea to do transcription in a house on a major road where people are trying to record music. (Not that they got much done but anyway it was exciting to hear the bits that they did get done.)

Even though dinner was simple, it was still fabulous; if I was rich, I'd hire Stacie to cook for me all the time and she wouldn't have to work another job. And Pakman and Ben could build a studio at our house and use it to record all the time. But I'm not rich ...

Saturday

We had writing group for most of the day. Ben was feeling sick. I had 11 down on my list who were supposed to show. Two called to cancel because they had woken up ill (that was fine); two just didn't show (that was not fine. Or perhaps I am too much of a control freak and I really need to make it clear to them what the word “RSVP” means and that, if they are not actually RSVP-ing but are, in fact, just keeping their options open, they should let me know that. Though I did know that one of them was going to be touch and go). So we ended up with seven, including one sick Ben.

We did an automatic writing exercise and I ended up writing a poem. I haven't written poetry in months. Here it is in unfinished draft form:

Creation

I will eat of the fruit of the tree of ideas—
let the juice dribble down my chin,
the pulp rising through a screen—
sprinkle a handful of stars,
a leaf and a feather—
smooth my hand across the crippled surface.

There are journals filled with white possibilities—
group the future in one blank moment—
knit it together as the yarn unfurls,
kittens reaching out with tiny claws.

The clause in the contract is the binding thread,
caught in the net of endless days—
repetition and routine—
commitment is a forgotten art—
we once were warriors, but now,
spearless, swordless, kept in cubicles,
with smooth white walls and smooth white consoles
and smooth white keyboards.

To create is a gift—
make order out of chaos—
sew my image into a doll,
fill the world with smiling plush milk cartons—
gift them to the world.

I will eat of the fruit of the tree of ideas
and carefully spit out the seeds.

Ben ran a seminar on thinking about the book of Mark creatively (and how you might turn it into, say, a movie). I ran a seminar in which we brainstormed ideas for issues #10 and #11 for Hippocampus Extensions. Then we went to lunch with Elsie who just happened to stop by. Post-lunch we workshopped people's writing, then went home to do the laundry and clean up things and prepare to go into the city for Symphony in the Domain: Gershwin's World.

I should have written down the time but I didn't and so miscalculated—I thought I was meeting Liwen at 6:30 but it's 6 pm and I missed the train that would get me there on time. Instead, I got there late and walked through the steaming city, past someone shooting a movie or a commercial involving screeching cars near Martin Place, through the hospital with the rest of the crowd which followed the current into the Domain, which is absolutely packed with people. Near the gate I stood and tried to call Liwen. No answer. I tried again. No answer. I SMS-ed. I called again. No answer. I was just starting to panic when this shirtless guy came up and said to me, “You're looking a bit lost,” and when I explained to him I couldn't get my friend on the phone and I didn't know where she was, he said, “Well, if you don't find your friends, you are more than welcome to come and sit with me and my partner—we've got a space just in front of the sound desk and there's lots of young people.” He repeated the “lots of young people” part and I started finding the whole conversation a bit freaky and very un-Sydney and perhaps if he hadn't been a guy it wouldn't have been freaky but I thanked him, finally managed to get Liwen on the phone, and moved away.

The Sydney Symphony Orchestra were wonderful (though I cannot watch the conductor because the SSO because they have been trained, for some reason, to come in after the conductor conducts the beat and not on the beat which is really more sensible). They played Rhapsody in Blue, medleys of well-known Gershwin tunes (and Liwen kept saying, “Gerswhin wrote that??” and An American in Paris. Nothing from Porgy and Bess, unfortunately, but one of Liwen's friends pointed out that that was technically an opera. (And Gerswhin is technically jazz). The highlight, for me, was not the 1812 (complete with cannons and fireworks), but Caroline O'Connor singing “Embraceable You” with a trio of piano, bass and drums—slow and mellow and perfectly sublime.

(Indeed, despite my fatigue, the evening was quite lovely, apart from the smokers who sat in front of us and the loud group behind us who insisted on talking VERY LOUDLY all the way through the pieces—even after I asked them very nicely and politely to lower their voices [well, they were setting out to get drunk].)

Sunday

I was determined that this Sunday was to be the Day of Rest. I wonder sometimes whether one aspect of the restrictions the Pharisees imposed upon the Sabbath was actually a good idea because they made you incapable of actually doing anything! And it is good to do that, everyone once in a while, as George likes to remind me.

I slept in until 1, I lay on the couch and watched The West Wing, I wound balls of yarn and didn't do any housework. I wasn't even on band that evening. And I thought I should give myself a night off from washing up too (you need at least one night off from washing up) but that was not to be. Instead I didn't let myself get trapped in the kitchen doing the dregs of the washing up like I usually do; instead, I asked Ben firmly if we could leave and came home to watch The West Wing and catch up on blogging with you.

Current:

Blinks:

Blog archives: ----------- January, 2012 November, 2011 September, 2011 June, 2011 April, 2011 March, 2011 February, 2011 January, 2011 December, 2010 November, 2010 October, 2010 September, 2010 August, 2010 July, 2010 June, 2010 April, 2010 March, 2010 February, 2010 January, 2010 November, 2009 October, 2009 September, 2009 August, 2009 July, 2009 June, 2009 May, 2009 April, 2009 March, 2009 February, 2009 January, 2009 December, 2008 November, 2008 October, 2008 September, 2008 August, 2008 July, 2008 June, 2008 May, 2008 April, 2008 March, 2008 February, 2008 January, 2008 December, 2007 November, 2007 October, 2007 September, 2007 August, 2007 July, 2007 June, 2007 May, 2007 April, 2007 March, 2007 February, 2007 January, 2007 December, 2006 November, 2006 October, 2006 September, 2006 August, 2006 July, 2006 June, 2006 May, 2006 April, 2006 March, 2006 February, 2006 January, 2006 December, 2005 November, 2005 October, 2005 September, 2005 August, 2005 July, 2005 June, 2005 May, 2005 April, 2005 March, 2005 February, 2005 January, 2005 December, 2004 November, 2004 October, 2004 September, 2004 August, 2004 July, 2004 June, 2004 May, 2004 April, 2004 March, 2004 February, 2004 January, 2004 December, 2003 November, 2003 October, 2003 September, 2003 August, 2003 July, 2003 June, 2003 May, 2003 April, 2003 March, 2003 February, 2003 January, 2003 December, 2002 November, 2002 October, 2002 September, 2002 August, 2002 July, 2002 June, 2002 May, 2002 April, 2002 March, 2002 February, 2002 January, 2002 ----------- Amusement Anime Canada/USA 2005 Comics/graphic novels Craft Depression Depression Talk 2006 Divorce Dreams and nightmares Forgiveness Gender Hong Kong 2007 Links Love and relationships Melbourne 2005 Melbourne 2006 Money Moore College MTS Notices Photoblog Pregnancy, birth and parenting Quotes Reading Recipes Reflections Scribbles St George Girls High Story of my life Talks The Arts Victoria 2008 Web geekery Writing ----------- Current archives: ----------- September, 2010 August, 2010 July, 2010 June, 2010 May, 2010 April, 2010 March, 2010 February, 2010 January, 2010 December, 2009 November, 2009 October, 2009 September, 2009 August, 2009 July, 2009 June, 2009 May, 2009 April, 2009 March, 2009 February, 2009 January, 2009 December, 2008 November, 2008 October, 2008 September, 2008 August, 2008 July, 2008 June, 2008 May, 2008 April, 2008 March, 2008 February, 2008 January, 2008 December, 2007 November, 2007 October, 2007 September, 2007 August, 2007 July, 2007 June, 2007 May, 2007 April, 2007 March, 2007 February, 2007 January, 2007 December, 2006 November, 2006 October, 2006 September, 2006 August, 2006 July, 2006 June, 2006 May, 2006 April, 2006 March, 2006 February, 2006 January, 2006 December, 2005 November, 2005 October, 2005 September, 2005 August, 2005 July, 2005 June, 2005 May, 2005 April, 2005 March, 2005 February, 2005 January, 2005 December, 2004 November, 2004 October, 2004 September, 2004 August, 2004 July, 2004 June, 2004 May, 2004 April, 2004 March, 2004 February, 2004 January, 2004 December, 2003 November, 2003 October, 2003 September, 2003 August, 2003 July, 2003 June, 2003 May, 2003 April, 2003 March, 2003 February, 2003 January, 2003 December, 2002 ----------- Bible Books Concerts Exhibitions Graphic novels, comics, manga Movies Music Musicals Series Talks and lectures ----------- Twitter archives: ----------- January, 2012 December, 2011 November, 2011 October, 2011 September, 2011 August, 2011 July, 2011 June, 2011 May, 2011 April, 2011 March, 2011 February, 2011 January, 2011 December, 2010 November, 2010 October, 2010 September, 2010 August, 2010 July, 2010 June, 2010 May, 2010 April, 2010 March, 2010 February, 2010 January, 2010 December, 2009 November, 2009 October, 2009 September, 2009 August, 2009 July, 2009 June, 2009 May, 2009 April, 2009 March, 2009 February, 2009 January, 2009

More /Karen/ ----------- Blog About me Testimony Favourites Wishlist Contact me ----------- Writing ----------- Articles Mixed Poetry Prose

Hippocampus Extensions H/E Ben Shots fired Sermons

Open links in new windows

Feeds

• Full posts
• Full posts and del.icio.us feed
• Excerpts only
• del.icio.us feed only
• All comments

Social media

• Flickr
• Last FM
• LibraryThing
• Listal
• Ravelry
• Twitter