What's the point? - Less Than Zero

I haven’t read American Psycho, but I’ve read Glamorama and Less than Zero.
Glamorama was like going through some drug fueled trance or schizophrenic’s wild nightmare. Some guy I used to know from the writing course who wrote some stories evocative of Bret Easton Ellis in its violent and erotic style was a schizophrenic, and I'm an epileptic and I'm sort of used to my brain going off and back on leaving me feel hazy and dreamy and sick, and I kind of wonder how drug addicts feel like when they're under the influence. The book didn't make much sense, but reading it was a full-on experience, it reminds me of the film "Lost Highway" by David Linch a little bit in its crazy, weird and outlandish feel.

Reality morphs into dream and dreams morph into reality and its borderline blurs in the middle and leaves you completely lost.

I guess Less than Zero is a bit more sentimental and still has the faint trace of adolescence angst in it, but I don’t know, I didn’t even know that the guy Julian was Clay’s best friend. Yeah reading back I see Clay sort of cares for the guy, or maybe he’s just nostalgic about the good-old days they two shared, I don’t know.
The utter boredom and apathy float through the entire book, even at the most dramatic moment, and that leaves the really sad undertone.
People are afraid to merge. Blair said to Clay at the start of the novel and the words stuck in my mind, with the image of blood merging (with drug) in the cylinge (even though it's cocaine not heroine they were using in the story).

Everyone’s into drugs, everyone’s just as bad as one another, they don’t care much about each other, but at least they’re in the same in-crowd with shared habits.
Sad real world of rich and cool where drugs and gossip-ping are the socializing tools - they are bored, unhappy and wonder where the hell this vast nothingness ends.

Julian’s in huge debt, selling drugs to young kids and even selling himself to pay off the debt, he’s so fucked up, like, he’s so low. Friends gossip about other friends, like I remember someone told me the other day about a guy who he used to know got murdered mysteriously, and he was dealing drugs or something, I don’t know him personally, but it’s like just another casualty in the modern world, and at the end of the day, how many people die of drug overdose or drug-related crimes these days anyway?

All Clay can do is to not getting involved.
But when Julian hit the lowest (or just the beginning or the worst), he chose to get involved, not just to help his old friend?. (This bit is funny. When Clay lends this big money to Julian and asks him what the money is for, Julian asks him why he offers him the money if Clay doesn’t believe what Julian says or something to that effect, and Clay says, “Because you are my friend?” Clay is no longer sure if Julian is his friend anymore.)
Clay realizes that money is not much of the issue but the thing is, he needs to see just how bad it is.
He knows by then it’s too late anyway, Julian’s dug himself too deep into the grave and can’t get out of the mess he's in anymore. Meanwhile, his model friend Trent ends up raping 12-year-old girl.

Clay doesn’t want to care, because if he does, it’ll just be worse, it’ll just be another thing to worry about, and even if he cares, it doesn’t make much difference.

People are afraid to merge, afraid to care about each other, his family don’t care what he does, do you care? - Sort of.
Clay can pretend not to care, it’s safer to just play cool and don’t show any emotion so at least he can protect himself from getting hurt.

He leaves the past behind and never goes back.

If Life was a Game,

Recently Ian and I were watching the cult popular film called "Nirvana" starring Christopher Lambert (also starred in "Tarzan"). Somewhat similar in the feel with movies like "Inception", "The Matrix", I'd say, but this one came out before The Matrix.

This budget Italian Sci-fi thriller with the thought-provoking concept, from what I have read, apparently failed to win the critic's praise.

Anyway -

The character Christpher Lambert was playing was the game designer, Jimi, whose latest game was about to be released shortly, which became infected by virus.

The virus, however brought one of the characters, Solo, the awareness that something in his life was strange. Every moment felt as if it happened before. He had the deja-vu. He listened to the voice in his brain, which really was the instructions from Jimi. Solo was ordered to pick up the piece of paper, read it, and call the number on it -

But Solo refused to do it, because he knew what was coming next. He'd call the number, a dark-long-haired chick with her lips painted dark scarlet would answer the call, and a guy with a shotgun would pop out of nowhere and kill Solo. He was fed up with repeating the same scenes.

It's your life. You can do whatever you want to do as long as you take responsibility of your actions and accept the consequences. People say.

But there's always something that you cannot control. Fate.

Think for sec, we'd never be 100% sure whether our life is our own. Our life might be pre-determined, or designed by someone else - like, GOD.
We'd tune into our inner voice (or who the hell knows, it could be the voice of God, eh?) and try to do the right thing.
If someone designed our lives and is manipulating us, would we know it? If we do, it must feel like a schizophrenic's nightmare.

Our life also is full of repetition, we often make the same mistakes, sometimes we'd experience the sense of deja-vu that we've already come across with certain things or persons before, and cannot remember where or when.

Then suddenly - hypothetically speaking, this someone who pre-designed our lives appears and says,

"You're just a character in my game."(Ouch!)

'Oh, Jimi...you can't do this to me. Get me out of here. Put an end to my misery.'

The character Solo laments.

In reality I don't think we can feel anything for characters in a game - they are not real, and they don't look real, not like in this film where they look like humans.

Everything in the game, looks and feels real, although undoubtedly bizarre. As a result, you can't help but feel sorry for Solo, because you know the feeling - feeling lost - or worse.

What if we didn't really exist, if our whole existence were an illusion?
That's a big IF.
Fortunately, we do exist. But coming to think of illusion, I guess, our life is full of it.
There are ideas which I used to think were my own, but then later realized that they were imposed upon by, say, my family, school teachers, media, so on and so forth. There were things that I believed to be true unconditionally before leaving my country, which turned out, aren't necessarily true.

We are conditioned to believe certain things depending on where we live or what kind of background we have. Once you're out of the certain system, or society, you may begin to wonder if part of what you used to believe in were only an illusion, or deception. That's maybe when we realize that we are characters in someone's game. Although not entirely, like Solo's, some parts of our life probably are manipulated and designed by some one or something.
Some people's life, maybe dominated by playing games on someone else, or being part of someone else's game. And some of us try hard not to participate in the game.

Jimi's life had been dominated by his games before the character Solo confronted him. He was the designer, the creator and the manipulator of the characters including Solo, and at the same time perhaps, in a way, was controlled by his own game. ;..(

Illusion or not, our life ends when the time comes. And when the time comes, every memory stored in our mind would fade out and be gone.
The only way to reach inner peace, while we're alive, maybe is to free our mind, so that no one could play games on us.

Um, I should do some meditation this evening, then.

Well, it was one deliciously convoluted film to me, that "Nirvana" - sort of like this better than The Matrix now.

Maybe Sometimes.

Hey, it's been a long time.

I often imagine myself saying these words to my old friends
Whom I haven't seen for ages.
There was a time we spent many unforgettable moments together.
Some are fun, some, emotional.

What have you been up to?
I feel like asking, from time to time.

Since when I stopped making effort to keep in touch?
It feels as though it's impossible to re-create,
such a profound connection we used to have.

We've lost it.
There is no going back to our past.

Stay in touch on the Facebook.
Right.
Stay in touch only on the face.
Come on, I can't even see your face.
Your real face.

Hey,
Not everything is lost.
The time we had in those days will never disappear.

In the old days,
I'd say to my friend

Remember the old guy who used to set up the stall,
Right in front of our school's front gate?
The guy was amazing,
How he used to manipulate the melted candy
to shape animals and accessories in a matter of seconds?

There weren't many kids who bought anything from that guy
Who kept coming back to the same spot,
Not to make money, but to get the little audiences.

No cheers, no sound of gasps were heard,
But our eyes were glued to his fingers
I can't even remember his face,
But I do, the way his fingers moved like a magic

Every stage of my life
Has moments that I never forget
Like people who shared those moments with me

What have you been up to?
Are there times you wonder the same thing?

Freaky fluke.

It has been a long time since I last updated my blog.
I know, it was nearly one month ago.
I still haven’t got around to editing the rest of my short story.
Meanwhile, too many sad news came along my way.

Earthquakes, floods and people around me dying all happened at once, as if it were a chain of freaky coincidences.

Maybe it has something to do with the strong lunar energy around 18th of March, when moon came closest to earth in 18 years. Or it could be the ominous sign of “end of the world” like some say. In the worst case scenario, predicted a friend of mine that the world comes to end within 5 years.

The number of catastrophes happening around the world is too alarming to pass it as just fluke tragedies.

Whatever starts must end.
There was an advanced civilization long before the emergence of the Neanderthal, said Charles Berlitz in his book “the Bermuda triangle” first published in 1975.
The human civilization ended once, due to the balance of environmental system collapsed. The obsession for the technological advancements led to human being destroying themselves.
What’s happening now looks worryingly resembled to what presumably took place tens of thousands of years ago.

When one dies, I believe, the soul goes back to where it came from – the universe.
Even if the life ends and the soul coming out of its body, the spirit goes afloat in the space somewhere and enters into the body again when it’s ready to restart a life from scratch.
We all make mistakes, we often say.
However, some of which are irreversible and deadly.

Are we going to make the same mistakes that humans from the lost civilization made?
Is it too late to make the miracle happen?

The prayers to god may not be enough to save the world.

I'd have to bitterly admit:
We can't go backwards.
We are too used to the convenience which we take for granted.
I won't say it is a futile effort that the world is now making.
Not one effort is a waste of time and money.

But - if the human civilization to end once again, it will give the nature to rejuvenate and create the ideal balance that living creatures require to survive.

I will, in the meantime, live my life the best I can, be happy and content, take my part in saving natural resources and let the fate take its course.

When you are in a country where you are the foreigner.

When you are in a foreign country especially on a short visit, the language barrier is bound to be your biggest challenge.

I first visited Australia to study English in 1999. It was only a two-month visit and my English was pretty bad, although it wasn’t like I didn’t speak any English at all.

It was Perth I stayed during those 2 unforgettable months. The beach was beautiful, and the blue in the sky was the deepest blue I’d ever seen.

Inside the ESL institution I didn’t have too much problem understanding English; the clear-spoken, proper English the teachers used with no slangs or swear words. They also spoke slowly. 

However, outside the class was a totally different story.

English spoken in the real world was quite different from teacher’s English. It was near impossible to keep up with their…like, speaking speed, their thick Perth accent (you won’t notice the difference if you are Australian) and the idioms and the slangs.

My shyness didn’t help either. I pushed my courage as far as could to reach out to people and spoke to them, with my nervousness so obvious on my face.

I felt their impatience growing, and felt my own courage crushing inside, which freaked me out and made me even more confused. The humiliation was overwhelming.

I was lost in the place where there is no Japanese sign whatsoever, where hardly no one speaks Japanese unless you luckily come across with fellow Japanese in the area. 

If you mutter some English words in Japanese accent, I guarantee 99% won’t even understand you. 

So I know exactly how foreign travellers feel in Japan.

Well, at least Japan is a safe country to travel around alone.

Back in Japan I started talking to more people of different nationalities. I learned a bit of Indonesian, Chinese, a few Arabic words and more English.

What I was trying at that time was being more open-minded and out-going.

You’d see many English speakers in Tokyo. Particularly in Shibuya, you see many of them hanging around with some young Japanese.

What’s common in those who manage to cruise through their stay in Japan and learn the language quickly is their laid-back, open attitude.

They are not scared of speaking patchy Japanese and getting misunderstood.

Let’s face it – you’re in a different country, and you can’t escape some embarrassing moments caused by the language barrier.

Actually no one is trying to humiliate you. You are the only one feeling humiliated.

Leave that fear behind when you are in a different country.

You have to be adventurous and go with the flow.

Eventually you’ll learn the language however slowly it may be.

That way, you’ll make more friends and you’ll have a lot more fun.

In the end, we are all humans.

My time in Perth was still great in spite of numerous humiliating moments I had there. lol

Memories of my father-in-law.

I was watching this documentary TV program 'Hawkins River' on Channel 7, which briefly showed the first Franklin River canoe trip completed by 4 guys (one of them is the dead father of my husband). It's also about the Green's Bob Brown's pursuit to protest against hydro-electric development.

Personally I'm not a big fan of the Greens (the Australian political party that has a strong say when it comes to emvironmental issues), but Bob Brown has a special spot in my heart because he was the one who named "Newland's Cascade", named after my father-in-law.

I know that it's such a tiny bit in the documentary that no one else would spot my father-in-law, but his whole family would recognise him instantly.

It was weird to see him on TV screen, who I've only seen on the photos and the 8mm video footage of the canoe trip. The details of the trip can be found on the biological story by John Dean "Shooting the Franklin"

If you love the natural beauty of Tasmania's wilderness, it's worth looking at.

- It always pays to be careful when your life is concerned -

Indeed, both my husband and his father worked for Hydro-Electric Commission in Tasmania. Somehow ironically, my father-in-law died in a workplace accident. He was a quietly confident sort of a guy and never thought such a thing could ever happen to him.

My hubby was only 18-month-old when his father suddenly disappeared out of his life. The beloved father who was always there for his wife and two kids didn't come home.
Explaining why he didn't come home was the hardest thing for my mother-in-law to do to my sister-in-law, then 3-year-old, the ultimate daddy's girl.

You know that tragic accidents happen often enough, and not many people care as long as it doesn't involve or affect them directly.
But the emotional trauma that those families carry and have to overcome is so deep and unfathomable.

It may be irrelevant, but there are many young drivers, adventurers, blue-colour workers out there, who experience near accidents and yet always seem to survive.
They might feel invincible, but they aren't. We aren't.

Even a cat can use up its 9 lives, one's life isn't worth pushing its limit.

義父のおもいで。（えっと、前回の訳です）

「ホーキンス・リバー」っていう７チャンネルのドキュメンタリーを見ていたの。その番組で、４人の男性による初めてのフランクリン・リバーのカヌーでの横断の様子をちょっとだけ見せていたのね。（その中の１人がウチのダンナ様のお父さん）
番組は（オーストラリアの）「緑の党」ボブ・ブラウンの続ける、水力発電開発への反対運動に関するものでもあったのね。

個人的にはワタシは「緑の党」（オーストラリアの政党で、環境問題に強い発言力をもっている）の大ファンではないけれど、ボブ・ブラウンには特別な思いがある。というのは、彼が、ワタシの義父の名前を取って、「ニューランドの滝」（フランクリンリバーの途中にあります。）を名づけた人だから。

確かに、ワタシの義父が出ていたのはドキュメンタリーのほんのちょっとで、誰も気づかないだろうけど、彼の家族全員は即気がつくだろうなぁ。

ワタシが、写真とか、あのカヌートリップの時の８ミリビデオでしか見た事のない義父を、テレビ画面で見るのは何とも妙な気分だったなぁ。
その、カヌートリップの全容は、ジョン・ディーン（そのトリップの企画者）の事実に基づいた著書、「フランクリン（リバー）に挑戦する？」に乗ってる。

タスマニアの自然の美しさを愛する人には、一読の価値あり。


－自分の生死がかかわる事にはいつも注意をするに限った事は無い－

実は、ウチのダンナ様も、義父もタスマニアの水力発電委員会（っていうよりハイドロタスマニア水力発電会社です。）で働いたの。皮肉とも言えるかも知れない事に、義父はハイドロでの職場での事故で亡くなったのね。
彼はさりげなく自信を持っている感じの人で、そういう事故は自分の身には起こらないと思っていたらしい。

義父がダンナ様の人生から突然姿を消したのは、彼がまだ18か月のときだったの。
いつも妻と２人の子供の為に尽くしていた最愛のお父さんは帰ってこなかったの。
その当時３歳で、思いっきりお父さん子だった義理の姉に、なぜパパが帰ってこないのか説明するのは義母にとっては一番辛い事だったって。

悲惨な事故っていうのはよくあり得る事だけど、自分が直接関わるか、影響を受けない限り殆どの人は気にかけないよね。
でも、残された家族が背負っていく、そして乗り越えていかなければならない心の傷の深さははかりしれないよね。

関係ないかも知れないけれど、世の中にはニアミス事故を経験してもいつもそれだけで済むという若いドライバーや、冒険家や肉体労働者がいる。
無敵に感じるかもしれないけど、そうじゃない。ワタシ達は無敵じゃない。

猫だって、8つ（9つでした）の命を使い果たすよね（諺：猫は九生－だから簡単に死なない）。人の命はその限界まで自分を追い込む価値はないよ。

Borderline Films

Last night while I was researching about old Japanese films and actresses, I came across with pornographic movies produced by Nikkatsu (Nippon film company?). The series of adult movies were called Nikkatsu romanporuno - romantic pornography.

These days when you hear the word 'porn' you'd think that's all about sex, which, I assume is true about recent pornographic movies. However, things were different in the 70s.

There were many porn stars in the 70s who later proved themselves to be real actors. Among them I saw the names of my favorite Jidaigeki stars like Yoshimi Ashikawa and Masayo Utsunomiya. They have this classy and dainty air that I've grown to appreciate.

I admit that many of those porn movies are flops but there are some real aesthetic, artistic movies with good story line.
I checked out some of them and saw the difference between real actors and plain porn stars. I bet that some talented, but struggling actors had no choice apart from getting themselves into the porn film industry back then. And, maybe that's why porn movies weren't just porn movies in the 70s.

Films like "Jitsuroku Abe-sada (Documentary of Abe-sada's crime)" and "Sekka Tomurai-zashi (Direct translation: snow-flower, farewell tattooing. English Title: Spirit of Tattoo)" are some of the best.

The former, indeed is based on the same story as Nagisa Ooshima's "In the Realm of the Senses" but some regard this so-called porn movie more highly than Ooshima's version - which makes you wonder: where's the borderline between art and pornography?

Some say art has no limit.
And it's a point that has been argued for a long time as far as I know.

So, here's my question: Could pornography be called a form of art?

Note: Abe-sada was a nymphomaniac ex-prostitute who murdered her lover by strangling him during the intercourse. She was carrying his severed genital when arrested in 1936.
It's said that she told the police "I loved him too much and didn't want anyone else to touch his member."

Where did my mind come from?

Do you know where you come from?
- Yes, I do

Could you explain to me where exactly you came from?
- Yes? (Is this a riddle of some sort?)
Well, I came from Japan, came out of my mother's tummy - well you know how babies are made, so that's where I came from.

Well done. Now could you explain where your mind came from?
- ???

Hm, obviously it didn't come from my parents.
It didn't come from Mars, either (but who knows, it might have!!)
Possibly re-incarnated from somebody who lived long long time ago?

Did I have a mind when I was born at all?

Mind is something that forms slowly and develops as a person grows, and gradually wanes as we reach our old age.

We, in many ways are similar to our parents in the way we behave and judge things, whether we like it or not. It's quite natural because the first and biggest influence to our mind is our parents (and siblings).

We also invite influence from our extended family, friends, teachers, neighbours, culture, society......okay okay, that's enough.

By making some self-inquiring and judgments, you start to form your own character, right? Hm. - Have I answered the question yet?

- Maybe not.

Even if re-incarnation is a feasible theory, how could anyone explain the mind of the first human-being?
Don't you sometimes feel as if little kids were little aliens? - with their mind still free from outer influence and conditioning?

When I was a teenager, I used to wonder a lot - how I, could feel that I am me?
I know that it's a stupid thought, but it felt like the greatest mystery that my mind can clearly identify me while this certain science book that I was reading at that time said that human body is made of water, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen...and all other sorts of chemicals; it doesn't explain the connection between my body and my mind, does it?

Where are all the living creatures come from? They are all made of combination of molecules like we are, aren't they?

Well, there's genetic science, cell technology, etc. and there might be a time down the road where a cell can be created artificially.
Maybe the original living creatures were made in the similar way but naturally...

Anyway.
Does it occur to you sometimes that your idea prompt out of nowhere?
Is it possible that your mind entered your body rather than it already was (in it)?

Let's hypothetically say, my body is just a spiritual case for my mind, and my mind (or rather, a mind), chose my body as the case to dwell in...well, am I saying that the mind was floating somewhere before it entered my body?

Hmmm, that's an intriguing idea, but sounds too out there (crazy!).
And I couldn't form the clear answer to the question, either.

On the Other Side of the Screen (意味不明)

Sometimes
We create something out of nothing.
We find some meaning in something that is nothing.
Or there is something which we turn into something else...

On this screen where I'm typing these words in,
I also read words written by many other people.
There must be countless number of people who's doing the same thing right at this moment.
In different places, in different languages.
And this little screen is connected to the world.

I read your words and speculate what you are like.
I only know you from the words you punch into the keyboard.
I don't know either; your face or your speaking voice.

Still,
I like your words.
Your words and what they carry
Touch my heart.
People express themselves on their blogs using different mediums.
Photos, images, poems or tweets.
 
Then someone finds your blog,
and feels something,
just like I do.

 When this computer is turned off, it goes back to a mere inanimate object.
All I can see is nothing but a dull, black screen.

Once it's connected to the Internet,
It comes to life, as if. As if, it has its own mind.
It carries and stores images, words, information and even feelings
and create its own virtual society.
In this alternative society exist good and evil
Virus is so rampant that no safety measure can fully control.

Once the words enter the Internet,
They start travelling with a will of their own.
Somewhere along the voyage the message changes.
Those words start telling different stories
when they reach the destination.
(Contrary to the sender's will)

As long as there is the sender and the recipient,
Words have the risk of getting misinterpreted.
Sometimes words could be troublesome.
 
And yet, I can learn a little about you
for I feel in your words something
that synchronizes with my wavelength.

This is just the virtual society,
yet, is connected to the real world
Through this small screen.

How will my words go about their journey, I wonder?

Thinking of Charlie

Sometime ago, I was reading Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, the book I also brought from Japan.

The main character Charlie Gordon was an intellectually disadvantaged adult with 68 of IQ. What set him apart from other people like him, however, was that he had the eagerness to learn and become smart.
He had no doubt that his friends, his teacher and his family would be impressed and love him more if he was to be like other people.
Alice Kinnian, his teacher at the adult learning centre recommended him to the team of scientists to be used in the new scientific experiment that may improve his intelligence. They had already operated on the mouse named Algernon that turned into a genius that is able to solve a maze in a short time. It was indeed, smarter than Charlie.

The procedure was previously only tested on few animals and Charlie was to be the first human subject to undergo the operation.

Thus far Algernon, the mouse was the first and only subject that remained intelligent for a considerable length of time, and Algernon still showed no sign of regeneration at all. There were concerns, but they thought there was a high probability that it would stay smart.

After a long, daunting pre-operation procedure, Charlie went under the surgery.
The operation was a success. Within 4 months he transformed from a mentally feeble man into a super intellect with IQ185 to boot.

But things he learned during those 4 months were not exactly what he would’ve wished to learn. All the painful memory that was hidden in his subconscious mind came to the surface. He had found out that those who he used to believe were his friends, were just laughing at him. He remembered that he was actually ditched by his family, and of course, the fact that he was just an experimental subject for those scientists.

His intelligence increased at a lightening speed while his emotion was still trying to catch up. The reality was; it couldn’t handle its mind. Charlie's emotion couldn’t identify that the mind was also his. It had become far developed for him to take in.

What’s even worse was all the painful facts that Charlie learned created a chip on his shoulder.

The project team claimed him as the scientific miracle, and the surgery turned him into a real human. The word REAL HUMAN, upset him.
He WAS a human before the surgery, wasn’t he?

It wasn't only him who had difficulty coming to terms with his change. People around him had no idea what was happening to him. They came to hate him for his intelligence, the way he talk, for him not being the Charlie they used to know.

Charlie was different - special and alone. He became attached to Algernon, the special mouse, maybe because he saw in it the reflection of his own image.

What happened during the 4 months wasn’t all bad. He found his family and managed to reconcile with his sister and mother even though the reconciliation wasn’t perfect.
He became romantically linked to his teacher Alice Kinnian. However, developing a close relationship with female proved to be difficult as a result of his childhood experience with his family.

The point is; the Charlie with IQ185 was the same Charlie who walked into the laboratory to have the surgery.
If the Charlie after the operation were the REAL HUMAN, what was Charlie prior to that event? Would you call him a retard, subordinate being or less human?
Come to think about it, there are surprisingly many derogatory words around us.
And most of the time we use those words without any malice.
After the 4 months, Charlie started to show erratic behaviors and the sign of degeneration. He grew irrational and easily irritated, frustrated for he was aware of his own deterioration.

He was finally reversed back to the Charlie Gordon, just as God first created him.
And that was when, I think, he eventually found peace.

Afterthoughts on the Movie Monkey Grip

I watched the movie 'Monkey Grip' last night, which based on the Helen Garner's book that I mentioned before.
The narrator was pretty much the same as what's in the book.
It was the main character Nora's monologue (or Helen Garner’s).

The movie was mildly disappointing, perhaps because I already knew the story. One of my friend commented on the book that it’s too shallow to her liking.
I wondered if she actually saw the movie first, because the movie didn’t quite do the justice to the novel. When the story was told on the screen, it sounded rather cheap.

After watching it I said, to my husband who was lying on the recliner next to mine that it was 'okay'. The actors were acting the characters in the book perfectly.
Probably it still is a great Australian film.
The only thing that changed was my perspective.

When I was reading the book, I was vicariously experiencing the main character’s life and emotional conflict, whereas I was just observing what she was doing in the film last night.

The story is mostly autobiographical.
With Helen Garner’s daughter Alice Garner playing the main character’s daughter, no wonder why the film looked so real and natural.
There was no over-play in it either.

My husband said that it was portraying the era so well and that reminded him of his teenage time, and also told me how big a deal it was when Monkey Grip came out.

It must have been very different if I had read the book after watching the film.

Some time after the film ended, I came to this conclusion.
When someone is going through emotional turmoil, it might not show as strong as it actually is or could even look like a cheap drama in public eyes.

Another Backlash on Julia?

Poor Julia,

When she first became the Prime Minister, I wasn’t so excited.

Now, many people call her “Labour’s puppet”. But PMs are puppets no matter where you go, aren’t they? It’s people behind the leader who’s really running the show, isn’t it, always?

No one can get everything s/he wants, and people’s wants and needs differ from one another, thus no one can satisfy everyone.
It’s a cliché that is also true.

There has been relentless online bully against Julia Gillard. – Well, maybe ‘bully’ is too strong a word, but that’s precisely how it feels like.
She's joke, incompetent and amateur...such words go on and on and on...

She’s doing her job, one by one, where her every single action will be harshly critizised. And those ‘criticisms’ are not constructive, either.

Now she’s taken her first step by getting the approval for the mining tax, which of course wasn’t perfect, but realistic enough.

The initial plan of 40% super resources tax was cut by 10% after the negotiation. As a result the promised tax-cut for Company Tax was reduced by 1% (30% - 29% instead of 30% - 28%), to cover the loss.

There will be no tax cuts for average Australians until the revenue turns to surplus.
It sounds clever enough to me – otherwise the government would’ve ended up racking up even more debt in the next few years. Overseas buyers are happy with the agreed tax rate, which means, I guess, they will keep buying resources from Australia, don’t they – do Australians seriously want to lose the crucial source of $$$?

The next challenge is border security issue.
That’s even tougher challenge. Many people don’t want any more population rise caused by boat people – while humanitarians want soft approach to those people.

Now liberal party is blaming her for stealing their ‘pacific solution’ plan, but I don’t know what their point is. It’s about keeping the country from getting over-populated, so all it should matter is whether it works or not. If it doesn’t, try something else - ideally both parties working together on this tough issue. I doubt if there is any humane way to stop boat people from coming to Australia. Most probably there is no ‘perfect’ solution.

So far, I think she’s been doing a good job - her approach seems to be more realistic and balanced. Past is past.
Sure, she’s made some big mistakes while K-Rudd was still in power, but one can learn from previous mistakes, isn’t that right?

I just can’t help wondering if all those blunders targeting her are due to personal preference. It's still premature to judge if she's truly 'incompetent'.

If I were an Australian, I would definitely give her a chance.

Visually unfriendly but environmentally friendly.

I'm usually rostered on Mondays and Thursdays, but I swapped the days to Wednesday and Friday this week due to the shortage of volunteers. (however we'll be getting more volunteers from next week onwards so it's for this week only.)

Fortunately my husband didn't have to work today either, so we decided to go to the Ceres community park in East Brunswick.

First I dropped off Lesel soaps at the op-shop as I promised to my supervisor and then headed to Merri Creek.
The water level was higher than usual thanks to the rain we had yesterday.

Obviously the walk path has been cemented and diverted since we were there last time, and the creek didn't have the bad rotten smell I remembered from a few months ago.

It was freezing with the top temperature of 13 degree, but when we were there the weather was perfect.

This place used to be our favorite destination for weekend walks.
With its tranquility and the nature and human-life so well-balanced (in the area so close to the city centre), we found the hidden gem in this place.

After a short walk, we had a break at the Ceres cafe.
We always have chai latte with soy milk. The price ($3) is reasonable considering the pot contains at least 2 cupful of chai latte. I also like the way it has the strong authentic chai flavour.

As usual I left him reading the newspaper at the table after finishing my cuppa and walked around the park for a while.

Ceres is indeed an organisation which promotes sustainable life-style and green energy.
They use organic matters to grow vegetables, recycle bikes and generates wind power, etc. More information can be found in their website (A click on 'Ceres' will take you to their website.)

What I will show you in the next few photos are the examples of their activities.

The battery operated car.

Visual discription of how to make compost. 
(The board was hung outside the compost toilet.)

Ahem...Let us create the sustainable community, shall we?

Again, on the insulation debacle...私って最悪？

And dodgy tradesmen...(some of them are good, though)

Everyone around me say that they don't know any tradesmen who do a decent job.
This government at least tried to protect and support Australia's working class.
At the time of insulation installation debacle, too many companies and tradesmen scammed people and milked the system, which K-Rudd should have well known before the damage was done.

As we all know, they are all on their best behavior until they get the contract, and then as soon as they get the money they do a shoddy job - and how would the government or anyone know if all of them are to be trusted. Something like the insulation scheme simply doesn't work in this country.

Furthermore, passing the buck on the government for faulty insulation installation in hope of getting some compensation also won't work.
Too many of us are already scamming the loopholes and getting some form of financial support from the government, so that we can relax and bludge.
Shonky tradesmen are just a tip of an iceberg.

Monkey see, monkey do...do we really want radical changes in the society?
I doubt that. Not many of us want changes unless they are somewhat beneficial to us financially.

A good government is the government that knows how to play the game with people of the country and please majority of us.

I said K-Rudd was a good PM, but probably not as good as Tony Blair of England or Junichiro Koizumi of Japan...

Bye bye K-Rudd... :..( I miss you.

So everyone in Australia should know the new prime minister by now...
The first female prime minister of Australia, Julia Gillard.

There had been a rumour, and we sort of knew that this was going to happen.
After the roof insulation debacle and the on-going backlash against the mining tax, Kevin Rudd's political future was pretty much doomed to end.

Personaly I believe Kevin did his best as a prime minister (by the book maybe).
He might not have been flexible enough. He might have been...too square for Australia.
I didn't think the insulation scheme was a bad idea. It could've worked out right.
The fact that 4 people died while installing the insulation pad seemed rediculous. Those houses were close to the electric wire, and they were using alminum sheet? Are you kidding me, hello?
Who would think that a professional insulation company would make such a - mistake?
I think it was a bit too harsh of people to have accused Rudd government for that disaster. (Sorry...I'm saying that only because I had a soft spot for him)

Even the introduction of mining tax sounds reasonable enough.
No one can satisfy everyone - but to acknowledge the fact that mining industry is the backbone of Australian economy, which they know well and have been using it as their ultimate advantage, the timing, maybe, was a bit premature. - also to consider that the miners pay might be cut down. (However it is the owners who would be charged the tax...isn't it?)

Julia Gillard said she will open the door for negotiation with the mining industry, so Gillard administration might tweak the plan a little.

Still, I feel sad to see K-Rudd go...he was a good prime minister.
Although, having said that, Julia Gillard is refreshing.
I would rather see her remain as a prime minister than Tony Abbott.

She looks serious enough to represent Australia.

 

Tony 'smiley' Abbott

Tony 'macho' Abbott





But he's sort of cute, isn't he?

Reminiscing the Sound

When my dad was alive and healthy, we used to play badminton on the weekend.
There was the open land behind our property and that was where we played.

The set of rackets and ball were, probably some free promotional stuff I won; because I don’t remember purchasing it.

The badminton we played wasn’t the actual game.
It was just a sequence of shots between me and dad.
There was this feel of infinity in the way we rallied.
That seemingly interminable sound of the ball hitting the rackets was - sort of calming.

In retrospect, it was funny to imagine a grown-up daughter and her father playing badminton in the backyard.

It was just after my 37th birthday when my dad died.
I didn’t exactly mourn over his death.

There were things I wanted to do with him, and I hated the fact I couldn’t see him for over 2 years before he passed away.

He was the only one in my side of family who congratulated my marriage.

The news came the next day when I called my family in Japan.
Mom lost my telephone number and couldn’t get hold of me on the day.

“So how’s dad? He wants to see me yeah? – I can book the next week’s flight.” I said casually.
“I’m sorry – your dad isn’t here anymore.” It sounded so ominous that I was alarmed.
“What???”

So he died the day before and I didn’t even know that.

What a birthday present. I hate you dad.

I flew back to Japan 2 days later.
It was weird that he was indeed, not there anymore.
The familiar sound of him walking down the stairs with his walking stick wasn’t there anymore.
Yet the sound echoed in my head.
Is this real?

All the memories flashed back to me.
We enjoyed walking together.
When I was a kid, dad took me to walking all the way to Kamakura, which took us over 5 hours.

Kumano Shrine, Kamakura

Even after he was partially paralyzed from cerebral infarction, he was still fit enough to walk with the stick.
We went to Odawara and Kamakura together, and walked almost the entire day.

I went on missing a lot when I was a little girl.
I often wandered about, whenever we went to a new, interesting place.
My little ‘journeys’ always got my parents worried.

Once, the local police found me walking around by myself.
At the police station, a kind-looking policeman played with me, gave me lollies and other sweets.

Then dad turned up. Oh, he really was scary, I tell ya. –

After that, though - I did that, again, again, and again without ever caught by the police - again.


Nowadays -

When I make coffee on weekend mornings, I remember our weekend ritual of drinking coffee together, and his voice.

And, when I play totem tennis with my husband in the backyard,
I remember the sound of the badminton ball emanating in the air.

Australian literature and cultural differences.

I was daydreaming as I was reading Monkey Grip (again!) in the lounge.

'What's it like to translate this into Japanese?' I thought out of nowhere.

This is the first Australian Novel I was grabbed into, and I wanted so much, that someone translates this book.

Then I thought...it must be friggin' hard to express all what there is in that book in Japanese.

The fragmental writing she adopted, the images and the colourful descriptive language that reflects the culture (or subculture) and the emotions of the characters.

To start with, what's in the book is almost too complex and too controversial for average Japanese audiences to take in, definitely not my parents' generation.

There is the huge risk of sounding cheap in Japanese language, where it isn't.

It's far from being superficial - in fact, it's so deep that it's painful.

The turbulent, complicated, conflicted emotions of the protagonist is difficult to portray in the different language with the cultural difference so huge from what's in there.

Traditional Japanese writing is very controlled, to the extent that may sound...disciplined.

It's not just the writing, but the culture and society seem way more disciplined compared to that of Australia.

Japanese people exercise to be polite to everyone since they are children.

We are taught not to yell at people, not to say anything impolite, not to show too strong emotions.

You see on the train, on the bus, people sleeping or concentrating into reading their newspapers or magazines but not talking to the other passengers.

Public confrontations are rare.

You see all the emotional controls in the traditional Japanese drama called Kabuki.

And you taste, the plainness and simplicity in the Japanese cooking, which also represents the discipline to avoid using excessive seasoning in order not to kill the natural colours and flavours. Some Australians may find the taste a bit bland.

Of course it doesn't mean that western and ethnic cooking kill the natural flavour - it's about the different idea in flavouring and that's all there is. The way other countries' cuisines use a lot of spices or cheese are meant to enhance, but not to kill, the flavours.

Confucian philosophy in our culture seems to disagree with the idea of 'excessive?' enhancing.

The idea also used to apply to the way of clothing - say, no flashy dresses unless you are a geisha or an actor.

Japanese culture these days is lot more open and flexible than what it used to be.

Young generation wear clothes even more quirky and idiosyncratic than western and the culture's progressing rapidly, yet the discipline in the language still remains.

Probably that's what makes the translation of this work such a difficult task.

Japanese language has its own delicate, subtle beauty, which is unique and that I'm proud of.

And I have to admit, that many English translation of Japanese novels kill that subtlety of the language - It's inevitable, though.

The chance is, that the same thing may happen when those fabulous Australian novels are translated into Japanese.

I can't find the right words to describe - but my favourite Australian writing cuts right into my heart.

Let's face it; you feel the feelings of the characters, you visualize the pictures and understand the culture through the language - which is impossible to completely capture in the other language.

And you may have to be in the culture to fully appreciate the story.

There is another fabulous book titled "Cloud Street", written by Tim Winton, the famous Australian writer from Western Australia - and that is my favorite so far.

I would recommend this book to anyone who reads in English.

Australian literature is never to be underestimated!!!

I've found a few Japanese contemporary novels that are as grim and morbid as Americal Psycho...wonder how Australians find them...:D

What’s for Tea?

All I did today were going to work and buying some groceries from the market on my way home.

One of my fellow volunteers live right behind the near-by market, so her son gave me a lift to their home. From there it was only one minute walk to the market.
(Thanks mate.)

I spent about $25 at the market including one rainbow trout and some chevapi (skinless sausages).

One whole rainbow trout's price was about $6. I usually get it as it is, for it is cheaper to buy the whole fish than buying in slices or cutlets.

I know how to gut and cut up most fishes as I used to go fishing with my dad when I was a little girl and saw some local fishermen at the pier cleaning the fishes in a lightening speed (as if).

Fortunately the fish I bought was already pre-gutted so I didn’t have to do the messy, stinky job. Plus I need a proper gutting knife to clean fishes without too much mess.



Tonight’s main dish for tea (dinner) was the rainbow trout with grated ginger.

Usually I use garlic and rosemary, or parsley but I've been using those ingredients in too many dishes lately that I was kind of over garlic and rosemary. And I wasn't in the mood to have the same-old, same-old, after the long, tedious and non-eventful day such as today.

Well, time for a little smile!

The recipe was too simple:

I melted a little amount (a teaspoonful) of butter in the frying pan,
then placed two cutlets of rainbow trout,
poured one tablespoonful of the lemon juice per cutlet (It was squeesed last night and kept in the freezer)
and seasoned with salt and pepper.
Once the fish is properly cooked, I served one on each plate, and added some grated ginger on the top.

Very simple, but it was quite nice.
The taste was tangy, fresh and light, and it was also gentle on my stomach. (Garlic sometimes triggar acid reflux.)

Good news was that my hubby enjoyed it too.
It’s said that ginger enhances digestive system and could also be used as a relief for nausea.

Interesting.

Embrace your inner child.

You're an adult now. Don't you feel ashamed for cuddling up to Teddies like that?

Oh, but - he's my favorite teddy, mum. He’s like no other teddies. He's special.
She clung even tighter to her teddy Kichiemon, which her dad gave her on her birthday.

Her mother chuckled as she looked at her daughter,
And she shook her head, with her eyes rolling.

The daughter was 17 years old.


If you're thinking that this is my childhood story, you're mistaken.
I was neither interested in Teddies nor had one.
I was the kind of girl who would scoff at such a sight.

I found my hubby’s old teddies in a cardboard box when we shifted into our first house in 2005, and I saw him looking so rapt to see them all. He called them via name, hugged them and played with them - It was a sight I’d never seen before but I found him cute. :D
So, he was indeed, the sort who adored and took some to his bed when he went to sleep.

Embrace your inner child, he often says.

It is therapeutic at times to be like a child, when I’m under a lot of stress.
I allow myself to cry, throw tantrums like a child when I’m upset and
Laugh like a child, when I feel better.
Then I know I’ll be okay.

I’ve come to love our cuddly toys.
Let’s face it. They are cute.
I cuddle them when I’m alone and need some warmth and comfort.
Some days, I fall sleep with my Drooper in my arms.