CROSSING THE LINE

Friday was the last day of Avalon Studios produced Good Morning (a morning television show, getting international yo). Auckland accountants have decided that they might save more money by running it off the back of Breakfast, using the Breakfast crew and studio etc, and end up with a “sexier” and “younger” show (I’m quoting the control room reaction after meetings) hence the set redesign at the start of the year to align with Breakfast (orange and orbs). Now the Auckland Breakfast studio is a shoebox compared to Avalon studios, it has a bench and painted backdrop for a kitchen, so I’m wondering which type of “sexier” they mean, possible not the expensive understanding? Also there’s no specific performance area to speak of, so there’s a tick beside this government owned corporation’s aim to facilitate outside and foreign content and minimise (local) content produced. That’s the real strange point for me, I mean if you want to shut down your only purpose built set of studios, fine, but what an odd policy. A government should protect and foster the nation’s culture and professionals rather than import foreign culture. I’m curious to see what will happen. I wonder if it means that it’ll turn into a series of talking heads; the latest Barbie dolls to fall off the end of the Disney conveyor belt, any international act wanting to promote their Auckland performance, and people making sandwiches? *Reference to a Breakfast “cooking” segment. *Avalon pride.

They just want to be the middle-men and take their easy cut. But will some future technology bypass such a function altogether? The accountants should know better too, the consumer always loses in the long run.

As for the “younger” aspect, what is the demographic at home on the week days 9am – 12pm watching TV? The children are at school, the kids are at university, the young men and women are working, who of the youth if left to watch this show? Do they want to encourage this?

What are they after? A culture shaped on foreign needs? A distracted younger generation, living someone else’s life rather than their own? :O

Anyway that’s all off message, and I would say I’m not the best person to attempt those questions, the REAL STORY is My Last Day Working on Good Morning. Which wasn’t Friday but Tuesday last week.

And the point of interest within that professional and dynamic, yet most likely boring, story is my crossing of the line. Being that I put an Asian smiley beside my name in the credits.

Yes.

It this one: ^_^ but I did it like this: ^-^ because it didn’t look right in the show’s typeface. Innocent huh? It made my heart race though. Hey! You have to understand that the director wasn’t the friendly one I had planned on. It was the highly artistic and professional one that hated discrepancies and made such a sport of complaining that I suspected he was a competitor with several titles to his name, generally quite friendly but you just didn’t mess with his direction, or his show. I was going to give anyone that wanted a custom smiley beside their name but when I realised he was directing it sunk the whole plan. But I had told a few people I was going to do something so I had to back myself and figure what it was I would do. I kept trying different options, it felt pretty risky (bear with), and each time closer to the end of the show. I ended with ^_^ partly because to the untrained eye it just looked like a mistake, and a mistake is much more forgivable than a wilful act. And also all the Western smileys are too generic and I needed it to have some type of individuality. And partly because I ran out of time.

Midday TVONE. The crawl with my name and smiley went past. The director went silent but didn’t say anything. And that was it. YES, IT WAS EPIC. Someone somewhere would have seen it. They would have thought “huh?” and then forgotten about it. The interesting thing was the feeling I had afterwards, it felt like I had taken a handle on fate. Like my destiny belonged to me. I started to see the formless nature of opportunities and the patterns of institutes. Then I became a superhero.

Some of that is true, some of it is not, mostly the superhero bit. In all sincerity though, I must factor more wilful/risky acts into my life. I think it’s healthy. It did honestly change something in me.

MISTAKEN FOR A STRANGER

Ok, first I want to say, in spring, what an incredible city this is, Wellington. There are flowers everywhere. Wild flowers in every unused and unusable patch of ground or crack in the concrete. It’s like every plant is saying: stand back, look, I will show you. Even the weeds. The creeper over my door is in forest trap mode with his long creepy arms reaching out everywhere. I cut it back high and tight.

My third rose cutting which had shewed me not any promise and had wrinkled up, after more than four months, un-withered himself and put out leaves, making himself the third miracle.

Walking home the other day I noticed someone I knew about 10-15 metres in front of me. Moving in the same direction as me and the perfect distance to cause indecision on whether to run up and say hello (would that be weird?) or just keep on and pretend that I hadn’t noticed her. It’s would take a certain level of confidence and care to do so. My confidence was good, but my care was low. She was the go with the flow type so I don’t think it would have been awkward. Then she started checking her reflection in the shop windows as she walked along and it became humorous, so I resorted to watching the men react to her as they passed, as she was fairly striking. A good form of entertainment with the like. I remember being in the Napier CBD early one morning when I spied the lawyer who patronised the now recession dead company I worked for, walking along the other side of the street with his head stuck with his chin over his left shoulder for the length of the street. Impudent like. I looked down the street to see what it was about and saw a friend stepping into her office. I wonder if that happened often, since their hours must have been quite regular. He was the number one lawyer in Hawke’s Bay and he was dodgy and expensive. He made me think I should avoid lawyers at all costs.

On that same street there was a gallery that I came out off once and at random my brother was walking past (incidentally he’s now studying law). The funny thing was I didn’t recognise him and my mind quickly made up a profile that sadly was more impressive and empathetic than the way I thought of him which focused more on what I knew of his personality and differences or extremities. I didn’t see what was in-between. I keep that memory as a reminder on how blind I am to things I take for granted or maybe a lesson on perspectives and history.

DREAM DICTIONARY

Beksinski

So if that dream was interpreted using a dream dictionary (I used hyperdictionary.com):

The beach would mean:

“Dreaming of the beach symbolizes the meeting between your two states of mind. The sand is symbolic of the rational and mental processes while the water means the irrational, unsteady, and emotional aspects of yourself. It is a place of transition between the physical/material and the spiritual. Dreaming that you are on the beach and looking out toward the ocean indicates unknown and major changes that are occurring in your life.”

The tidal wave:

“Dreaming that you are caught in a tidal wave means the strength of your emotions, perhaps accompanied by tears that you are holding back in your waking life.”

Huge wave (thecuriousdreamer.com): “One huge wave could represent overwhelm or a challenge in your life.”

The ship:

“Seeing a ship in your dream indicates that you are exploring aspects of your emotions and unconscious mind.”

Steam (from the website thecuriousdreamer.com):

• Anger or other urgent emotion
• Energy or power
• A by-product of a process or event
• Fogginess or lack of mental clarity

The camera:

Seeing a camera in your dream means your desires to cling on and/or live in the past. Alternatively, it may represent you need to focus on a particular situation. Perhaps you need to get a clearer picture or idea.

Being underwater:

“Dreaming that you are underwater, suggests that you are feeling overcome with emotions and are in need of greater control in your life. You may be in over your head regarding some situation.”

Same wave repeated (repeat, from the website thecuriousdreamer.com):

• An emphasis or focus on whatever is repeated
• The idea of trying again or another chance

The submerged ship:

“Dreaming that a ship crashed or is sinking, suggests that some aspect of your life is out of control You are expressing some fear or uncertainly within your emotional state. You are afraid of losing something close to you because of certain difficulties.”

Alternatively a submarine:

“Seeing a submarine in your dream indicates that you are cautiously exploring your emotions and examining your unconscious feelings. You still remain guarded about certain emotional issues. Alternatively, the submarine indicates that you need to adapt a different perspective and understanding. You may need to get down to the core of some situation or problem.”

So I guess I’m focusing on some emotional issue that’s not actually real, just a toy while I go through a transitional challenge… great. And even on my second chance I focus on the steamer… Who left that toy steamer on the wave? It plagues me :o

About light and taking photos in dreams check this out, a Polish artist, who has an insane body of work, Zdzisław Beksiński said:

“I wish to paint in such a manner as if I were photographing dreams”.

“…which are being painted without what's known as naturalistic light and shadow. What I'm after is for it to be obvious at first sight that this is a painting I made”. (Wikipedia)

Get out of my brain.

Beksinski

I DREAMED A DREAM

I had a dream. And it was so well lit. Like midday, but with no shadows. It wasn’t blinding. It was just that there were no shadows, like when it’s overcast, but the sky was blue. We were all at the beach relaxing when suddenly a large glass wave (as in friendly and transparent rather the than window pane glass variety) drew itself up and rushed at us. It was about as tall as one short person, standing on a box, that sat on a kitchen bench (sorry, that's just the best way to describe it). Someone on the beach had been playing with a toy steamer, about a metre long, and the wave had sucked it up, right to the top of the wave, and it just sat up there for a moment. “Quick”, said my brother, “Take a photo”, I reached for my camera but I was too late, the foot of the wave had washed over it. I knew I only had seconds. I pulled my camera out from the water. I was still confident/hopeful, I knew that the camera was weather proof. It was then that the wave hit me. It didn’t take me. Once through to the other side I found, unnaturally, that I was still in front of the wave but the steamer was now suspend within the glassy green depths of the wave. I didn’t have time to check the focus I just aimed roughly and manage a few shots before the wave hit me for a second time. This time I woke up.

When I woke up I secretly wished the pictures were on my real life camera somehow. I never got to preview them in my dream. I was sure there would have been some amazing images if the auto focus had worked. Which made me think: Wouldn’t it be cool if we could develop that technology? (No. Not auto-focus -_-) To take images of what people were dreaming about as they dreamed.

I’m sure it’s an old sci-fi staple that I never properly noticed but still.

THE AMERICAN

Repeat after me: ALLEZ LES BLEU!

He sat in the row below ours. Directly in front of the very loud and very abrupt Frenchie who would suddenly bark out “ALLEZ LES BLEU!” seemly at random but most likely reacting at crucial points to the Esprit De Corps with a perfectly timed pause between that just begged any supporter within earshot to join him. Much to the feigned embarrassment of his girlfriend who declared to one and all that she didn’t know him. You see he was so loud that everyone in the section would turn to look every time he opened his mouth. That was how we meet the American.

Taking the full brunt, he and his girlfriend would be the first to turn. They took it in good humour though. The reason I single the American out, though, is the fact that he came across so different to your typical American; quite, fairly polite, good humoured as I said, and intimately informed in the ins and outs of rugby. He was supporting the Tongans, which I also thought was unusual. He was here on a six month working visa. The real connection was my brother’s running commentary of the game. Once he realised someone else actually knew what was going on he began comparing notes. I think this exchange was partly responsible for my brother’s split loyalties that developed halfway through the game. Yay, the French, GO TONGA! He didn’t want to alienate his listeners.

And then we all left. No goodbyes, just a late random salut to the loud Frenchie as we walked out of the stadium. But he made me think, that American. He was nothing like what I see on the TV or the standard obnoxious tourist (of which I hear more of in rumour than see in person).

The American (looking at the screen not laughing at the French)

ODE TO A WILD LOOKING MOUSE

My father and I shaped a piece of timber (some type of greenish looking wood that my dad didn’t recognise) to replace the hardboard bottom shelf of the pantry in the kitchen that belongs to my current home. My property manager referred to this crafted piece of timber as a “plank”. Quaint and also dismissive. Reason being was that some type of rodent had chewed through one of the corners and though I had pushed a bottle through the hole there was evidence of recent activity, an attempted entry.

The previous tenant had left one of those big rat traps, so I assumed the rodent was a rat, or three. That was a while ago now, but this week I started to hear noises in the cupboard under the sink. A rustling of plastic bags. My friend, foiled for a time, was back. Something was in the cupboard eating my plastic bags and leaving a mess. So I set that old trap up. I wondered if anything would happen to be honest. It’s kind of like fishing.

So I came back from work yesterday and there was a familiar rustling coming out from under the sink. I was thinking he was pretty brave making a plastic bag raid in the middle of the day as I checked under the sink. Nothing was in the trap. I closed the door and the rustling started again. Actually, I kicked the cupboard door first because I didn’t want him escaping into the house and hoped he’d get the hint. Anyway cautiously I opened the cupboard again and began to take the plastic bags out and wondered what was going on. I looked at the empty trap and saw there was the edge of a bag caught in the trap. I looked closer. It was then that I noticed the tip of a tail sticking out. The intruder had twisted himself up in a plastic bag and that was why I hadn’t seen him at first.

He started screaming when I began cutting him free. He didn’t want the food I offered him. He was so wild looking with a dark coat and feverish black eyes. I decided to let him go free. Also it was possible he was a she, and had spring babies somewhere. I blame Richard Adams. If he was a rat I would have captured him and released him near my enemy’s house by the way. He was one very freaked out and wild looking mouse. When I lifted the trap off his tail, following a short incident, he slipped down a 4mm gap at the back of the cupboard. The end…

DRACULA - A SUBJECTIVE REVIEW

I kind of intended to finish The City of the Straight this week and report on my findings but I was distracted by my Gothic holiday reading. Yay for Popular Penguins at a Perfect Price. Last night I stayed up far too late finishing Dracula, an irrefutable nexus of popular culture. You see I didn’t want to leave a vampire at large in my head, he had to DIE. Do you know the difference between horror and terror? If you’re only vaguely aware, it is, put simply, thus; terror is the dread of what will happen and horror is the revulsion at what happened. And along with romance are both the staple of Gothic literature. I wouldn’t say that such is to my liking but I had read Frankenstein some time ago, and hoped it would be of the like; almost a classic and totally different to the current popular interpretation. It certainly was more gruesome than I expected. As I was reading it I began to pick up missing links in the world of stories. I imagined connections between the Hannibal Lecter films (I don’t claim to have seen those films mind), Faust, the delicately balanced Låt den rätte komma in (foreign language bonus :O), the Pre-Raphaelites, and thanks to that scatter shot of knowledge known as Wikipedia, the thinking of Gothic Revival, to quote; “The ruins of Gothic buildings gave rise to multiple linked emotions by representing the inevitable decay and collapse of human creations”,  such decay (or reclaim) of creations has always interested me, though in manner of positive/scientific emotions (is that possible?), and in no way anarchistic. (I think this book has caused me to affect an archaic accent, it’s written, for the most part, in the form of journal entries by the varied Victorian protagonists). I thought it odd, possibly even a mistake, that the lead antagonist was instantly introduced and for the first part so close and constantly revealed to the initial hero. But then the genius of it dawned on me as the dread of his unknown and murky movements haunted the better part of the following passages. Sadly the end seems rushed/pedestrian (:D) in my opinion, and lacks the symbolism of the first three quarters. I think the writer, cherry old Bram Stoker, lost his way, when, in the last act, Count Dracula lost the majority of his omnipotent like powers and the vital atmosphere disappeared. Yet, in short; great for late night reading and essential to pop culture junkies.

BELMONT TANIWHA AND MOA

THE BIG LITTLE CAPITAL THAT HAPPENED

Over the last two weeks I have seen kaka parrots on three occasions. In the city of Wellington. The first sighting was of a solo bird flying overhead in the suburbs. Such a funny shaped bird, the parrot. And today, in the Botanical Gardens, a group of four kakas were, in all appearances, playing with a group of four or more tuis in a flowering kowhai tree. Can the Zealandia sanctuary be thanked for this? I felt a little wistful seeing this tree on public grounds practically teaming with native birds, fooling about in a type of short lived harmony. Was this what New Zealand wildlife was like before the native species become depopulated. What would it have been like if Huia and Moa had been added to the event? Last weekend, at a family event, my father gave me a book by Alan Mulgan. It’s basically a running together of the various settlement histories (both Maori and British) in the Wellington region, more of an overview than an academic study. None the less, it’s still fairly un-biased, I think. I’ll have to confirmed that though, since, when I was talking to someone about it, and used the word “campaign” to describe Te Rauparaha’s move down the west coast, they laughed at the word. (This book, by the way, is one of those rare off hand “oh he might like this” gifts that is actually precious and interesting. Thanks dad. Yeah :) ) Combining my progress so far with this book, the unruly waka taua of the RWC opening navigating the bottomless green of the Auckland harbour, and the native bird invasion, has got me peering “down the foggy ruins of time” and wondering what they were all up to back then?

The beginnings of this city now look so random, rushed and uncertain. It seems like Wakefield sailed up and said yeah that looks good. Why not Nelson? More sun, more flat land? Hopefully the rest of the book will shed some light. I’ll get back to you. Maybe.

Gills Sans much?

Te Aro Flat and Mt Cook, about 1840

LIST OF FIFTY FILMS

What a funny week. Partly because of that tv series Community. Donald Glover, Alison Brie, Ken Jeong and Chevy Chase are just amazing. After watching a few episodes everything is so funny for the following couple of hours. Donald Glover so unexpected,  Alison Brie working so many dimensions into the stereotype, Chevy Chase’s pathetic self parody, Ken is a comic genius, the scripting is fluid, very audience and self aware, it feels like they’re sitting there in the room watching it with you as they’re writing it. Incessant references. There are  a few continuity issues here and there but I guess that comes with the territory. Being a comedy and all. Who ever reinvented Chevy is a genius as well. I used to not like him that much. But, in this, he has some of the funniest moments.

So much happiness.

I don’t really have anything real to say this week so here’s a list of films that will help you win friends and influence people. Actually, in true newbie form, these are my favourite films in order of importance. I can vouch for each of these films.

You know it’s handy to have such a thing to keep the film buffs I MEAN FREAKS >:| off your back. Telling you how to think about everything and being so dismissive. By the way it wasn’t an easy task to hit fifty. And I must confess that I have never seen Metropolis but I imagine I have, and I imagine it would be in my top fifty. One day I will see it… Embassy? I’m asking you with my brain. Ranking is fairly accurate. Same with the year.

LIST OF FIFTY FILMS

1. The Last of the Mohicans (1992)
2. The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (Il Buono, il Brutto, il Cattivo) (1966)
3. Let the Right One In (Låt den rätte komma in) (2008)
4. Rashomon (1951)
5. The Mirror (Zerkalo) (1974)
6. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006)
7. Moon (2009)
8. Korkoro (2009)
9. Stalker (1979)
10. Reservoir Dogs (1992)
11. Rear Window (1954)
12. The Host (Gwoemul) (2007)
13. Full Metal Jacket (1987)
14. Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
15. Unbreakable (2000)
16. Spirited Away (2001)
17. District 9 (2009)
18. Henry V (1989)
19. Dont Look Back (1967)
20. Metropolis (1927)
21. Schindler’s List (1993)
22. Duck Soup (1933)
23. Once Upon a Time in the West (C'era una volta il West) (1968)
24. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
25. The Cave of the Yellow Dog (2005)
26. Shawshank Redemption (1994)
27. Darjeeling Limited (2007)
28. The Thin Red Line (1998)
29. Black Hawk Down (2001)
30. No Country For Old Men (2007)
31. The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
32. Napoleon Dynamite (2004)
33. Elephant (2003)
34. Strictly Ballroom (1992)
35. City of God (2002)
36. House of Flying Daggers (Shi mian mai fu) (2004)
37. Rushmore (1998)
38. Fight Club (1999)
39. Lessons of Darkness (1995)
40. Psycho (1960)
41. Once Were Warriors (1994)
42. Night and Fog (Nuit et Brouillard) (1955)
43. The White Ribbon (Das weisse Band) (2009)
44. Three Colours: Blue (Trois Couleurs: Bleu) (1993)
45. Gattaca (1997)
46. Gladiator (2000)
47. Peter Pan (2003)
48. Gerry Maguire (1996)
49. The Lost City (2005)
50. The Iron Giant (2000)

KIMBRA...

The first time I saw Kimbra I was more distracted by the scribbles, floating around on the wall behind her, than her music. And when Settle Down came along on C4, with the burning dolls and the suspect wife as child perspective, I never made the giant leap from that video to Simply On My Lips until someone pointed it out.

I think the quality of Settle Down as a NZ On Air project is the thing that first made me curious. She was this different, the art and production values were so good, and she was kiwi and the video was NZ made?

Alas no, it was Aussie made, and she was based in Melbourne, Australia. Well, at least she chose a cool city. So when researching on how much of a KIWI HERO she was, I came across the “Live at Sing Sing Studios” recordings and in particular Good Intent and Two Way Street and become transfixed, mostly by Good Intent, look read these lyrics:

“You heard the crickets at the early evening

Lurk around the opening in twos and threes

Clementine told you not to move with the breeze

It’ll take you down to places where we dare not speak”

If that doesn’t work for you, you need to hear her sing them. And she made intuitive spasm dancing look so natural. Something like Tom York and Chris Martin on a good day. With out a doubt she has an amazing voice and her vocal gymnastics are fantastic. The aggressive sound of the band she works with in those videos is just a perfect match. And she was KIWI.

Sooooooo… what is going on with this new polished plastic contained angle that all her new singles have? Who’s in control? What’s going on? … Where is Sam Phillips at? Er… at least you can be certain of a supersonic live performance. Apparently she was the high light of Splendour in the Grass. She’s playing at one of the NZFW shows in Auckland in September, her only 2011 NZ show. If I could be in Auckland I would be getting along. Free show too. If you will be there, would that I could be there with you but my two counterparts at work ARE BOTH OVERSEAS THAT WEEK. These are the type that book their holidays the year before. Who does that? How can I compete that?

Also, for your information, her album’s due to be released this Monday. (I don’t know if I can recommend it though, might be all plastic!). AANNDD I spoke with one of the producers at work and (so far yes) we may be interviewing her on the show Thursday – Friday first week of September. Mohammad and all. :D

One other thing listen to how great her voice sounds after the whiny singing of Gotye ;P

FINE BLACK CLIC BIC

This pen (the Fine Black Clic by Bic) is the holy grail of the sly office pen swap. Perfect for doodling with its silky smooth action, fine point and over-abundance of sticky black ink. I went on a crusade this afternoon looking for a box; Whitcoulls, The Warehouse and New World, bad choices unfortunately (by the way The Warehouse advertised them on it’s website?), should have tried The Stationary Warehouse or something. Somehow this seems to prove the goodness of these pens though. The legend, to me, is only rivalled by the Montblanc, though it has this against it: The “sturdy pocket clips” break too easily, you know if you really use them, like clipped in you pocket. Or when flicking them absent-mindedly. And when you try to fix them with tape it kind of blocks up the clip. And you know how annoying a pen with a broken clip is. Scratches your hand. And looks unfortunate and unready. They should reinforce them, an extra spine perhaps? The ink flow which makes them so special, definite and paint brush like, also works against them a little. Making their lifespan, ink-wise, shorter than your average ball-point. Other than that though a very important part of mental stability. Swap one from a desk today. (Only attempt if your sleight of hand is level 60 or higher).

SWEENEY IS THE NARK

Cherie Kurarangi Sweeney - Image: Stuff

Cherie Kurarangi-Sweeney is a grass roots anti child abuse campaigner. After her next-door neighbour’s child died as the result of abuse, she decided that somthing needed to be done. During the aftermath of that incident she came to the decision that she would be the person to do it, a decision that would not be welcomed by some in her neighbourhood. Ironically she had escaped to the area to heal after difficulties; she felt the place had a lot of mana.

“Mana” has to be one of the top ten misused Maori words, seriously. It means prestige, authority, control, power, influence, status, spiritual power, charisma and history. Figure it out. Cherie was on the show a few weeks ago and I have to say it must have been the first time in my life I have witnessed mana. It’s not just a word! It took a while to appreciate the risk she is taking “narking” on abuse and setting up a support network for others willing to take the risk.  The hairs on my arms started to prickle as I listened to her speak. It was refreshing to hear such talk amongst the clumsy innuendo, mysticism, congratulations and pseudo-science that generally baited the show. It made me feel quite emotional. The control room afterwards agreed that she was both lovely and brave. She doesn’t own a computer or have internet access at home. She uses the local library’s computer to operate her Facebook page which currently has over 10,000 followers. A real life champion. I'm thinking culture change rather than law change if you care.

AUCKLAND POWER

The Crystal Pyramids of Crystal Moutian

Second to last shot just before I step into a underwater hole and camera dies

 

If you’re ever a tourist in West Auckland you MUST visit Crystal Mountain. Even if you’re not into crystals it’s definitely worth it on curiosity alone. To be sure, at the time, our group didn’t consist of crystal people (I think) but when you’re heading out to Bethells Beach and there stands a random yet official brown NZ Roading sign saying “Crystal Mountain” and you’re on holiday, and there are a number of curious people in that group, strange things happen. For me it was a weird moment that was actually almost “A MOMENT”. A moment of connection. Hmmm… The horse float and house-truck looking trucks in the parking lot should have given it away but we just walked in oblivious.

After the human sized crystal formations at the “mountain” entrance the next indication of differentness was the “Jesus Is Lord” placards that hung from the walls. I think they were for sale too. Stepping inside the museum/shop proper I was passed by a women who had just made a purchase of a few of the many life restoring stones available. There were quite a few people inside considering the back road location. Anyway, as the women passed me she plunged her hand into a tray of discounted crystals that stood against the wall, and a moment of ecstasy/indulgence/comfort/power crossed her face. I later thought there was a good chance she was faking the power part as the discounted crystals looked well handled and I had overheard another crystal women, particular about her expensive purchase, say she needed to test all the crystals she was considering behind the secure glass door because a lot of them would have their power drained if too many people had touched them. Was this merely a ruse to channel them herself? If so she wasn’t being very Christian. And hadn’t absorbed any of the 80’s vintage Pentecostal songs playing over the sound system. Stonewise the Lapis Lazuli was definitely a best seller. There was only one left in the pick’n’mix section. Though they looked kind of plastic, I respected them for their history. There were also these clear crystals that looked like they had formed around charcoal stick like crystals, how did this happen? In one questionable section they had stones attached to every cheap tourist trinket imaginable. Yes anyway, I don’t know if it was the shared strangeness or the crystal power, either way, by the end of the Crystal Mountain tour I felt CONNECTED to the group.

By the way I initially was going to write about Bethells Beach and how I DROWNED my camera when I stepped into this hole while we were exploring these sea caves but thankfully realised it was really not that interesting so I have saved you from that boredom. It would be like writing about how easy it is to break the clip on your average ball point pen… though I think a certain ball point pen would make a good post topic… De nada. Don’t mention it. I apologise for the grammar also.

Conundrum. Gated entrance to an island covered in bush (Bethells Beach)

Lifeless shell of a C-Lux 2. R.I.P.

Two of my favourite pictures taken with the late C-Lux 2

Having found nothing I loved, I wish to spit out everything I ever tasted