So, has it come to this ...

I am, it seems, a man who sits alone at home on a Friday night, surfing the Internet; a hot red wheat bag on his sore left shoulder. Three minutes in a microwave oven, apparently, and relief can be yours. Silly old fool.

Dis poetry

Dis poetry is like a riddim dat drops
De tongue fires a riddim dat shoots like shots
Dis poetry is designed fe rantin
Dance hall style, big mouth chanting,
Dis poetry nar put yu to sleep
Preaching follow me
Like yu is blind sheep,
Dis poetry is not Party Political
Not designed fe dose who are critical.
Dis poetry is wid me when I gu to me bed
It gets into me dreadlocks
It lingers around me head
Dis poetry goes wid me as I pedal me bike
I've tried Shakespeare, respect due dere
But did is de stuff I like.

Dis poetry is not afraid of going ina book
Still dis poetry need ears fe hear an eyes fe hav a look
Dis poetry is Verbal Riddim, no big words involved
An if I hav a problem de riddim gets it solved,
I've tried to be more romantic, it does nu good for me
So I tek a Reggae Riddim an build me poetry,
I could try be more personal
But you've heard it all before,
Pages of written words not needed
Brain has many words in store,
Yu could call dis poetry Dub Ranting
De tongue plays a beat
De body starts skanking,
Dis poetry is quick an childish
Dis poetry is fe de wise an foolish,
Anybody can do it fe free,
Dis poetry is fe yu an me,
Don't stretch yu imagination
Dis poetry is fe de good of de Nation,
Chant,
In de morning
I chant
In de night
I chant
In de darkness
An under de spotlight,
I pass thru University
I pass thru Sociology
An den I got a dread degree
In Dreadfull Ghettology.

Dis poetry stays wid me when I run or walk
An when I am talking to meself in poetry I talk,
Dis poetry is wid me,
Below me an above,
Dis poetry's from inside me
It goes to yu
WID LUV.

Benjamin Zephaniah

Ouch

My shoulder aches. It has been sore for about a week now. I must have strained or pulled a muscle but I don't know how or where or when.

Spike bought a hot water bottle today and a jar of tiger balm, some of which she massaged into my skin this afternoon. I felt much better afterwards, although I may have smelled like the armpit of a sumo wrestler. That's a small price to pay if the pain eases.

Iffy shoulders are pretty close the the last problem a C5/6 quad needs to encounter.

The Drowned World

This month's read for the Sydney MCA 'Inspired Reading' book club was J G Ballard's first novel from 1962. It was tied to an exhibition by Simryn Gill.

So ... getting the problems out of the way first of all: it's dated; misanthropic; misogynist; has frankly unacceptable portrayals of the one female and all the black characters; its world view is, to say the least, gloomy and its psychology is a bit too Freudian for my tastes. And the story, to be honest, is a bit naff ... almost superfluous (which the author might not see as a huge problem).

Nevertheless, it is quite a compelling read. The imagery is captivating, striking at times. Surrealist painting clearly informs much of the writing and the text, only 175 pages long, is worth dipping into just for that imagery (absurd at times but, you know, it's surrealism ... which I can take or leave in many of its manifestations).

The Drowned World is sort of The Day Of The Triffids meets Heart Of Darkness meets Dante's Inferno meets Max Ernst, Salvador Dali and a Belgian painter, Pierre Delvaux, I've never heard of. I first read it when I was 14 or 15 years old; re-read it for the book club tonight and didn't think I'd wasted my time. I don't share the author's nihilistic world view but I did enjoy the rich texture of his writing. One could almost touch the mad jungle, smell the lagoon and feel the heat of that sun on your skin.

I really enjoyed the evening, joined as I was by Spike. The gallery folk are lovely, full of enthusiasm for their art and literature / cheese and wine evening and very bright.

Fires Appeal by our work's DG

Memo from the Director-General – DG 2009/009

Australia has witnessed one of its worst natural disasters as the official death toll caused by the Victorian bushfires stands at 130 people. The death toll exceeds those of Black Friday in 1939 and Ash Wednesday in 1983. There are 31 fires still burning across Victoria. At least 750 homes have been destroyed – 550 of those in Kinglake, north of Melbourne, and in surrounding areas.

A number of DADHC staff have indicated they would like to make a donation to help those affected. As DADHC’s Workplace Giving donation facility is currently under construction, details on how you can donate are listed below:

Visit www.redcross.org.au
Phone 1800 811 700
Go to any NAB, ANZ, Westpac or Commonwealth Bank branch
Donate at any Bunnings store
Direct deposit to the Victorian Bushfire Relief Fund - BSB 082-001, Account number 860-046-797
Give blood - The Australian Red Cross Blood service is encouraging people to donate blood. For your nearest donor centre visit www.donateblood.com.au or call 13 14 95 to make an appointment.

I hope that we can all contribute to assisting those in need at this devastating time.

Brendan O’Reilly
Director-General

Slighly more than wood-fired ...

Mine came from Woolworth's (I borrowed this image from someone called Kim, here). If anything, mine was darker ... charcoal might be a more accurate description. I suppose the apple and plum I ate instead are better for me.

My dark pizza just goes to prove that this man, at least, is not crash hot at multi-tasking ... watch the oven do its baking thing Douglas or catch up on work e.mails. Don't try both at once because that's obviously way too much for a simple man like you to handle!

14e arrondissement

14e arrondissement - Paris, je t'aime
by Narfouette