Date: Friday, 8 June 2007, 4.00pm
Location: Smith Street, Fitzroy
Coffee: latte, poor - $2.50 (Greek sweet yummy)
Reading: Plato's Philebus
It feels good to be writing a blog again. I handed in my last bit of coursework yesterday - an exam for the Semiotics and Post-structuralism class. I am relieved to have the coursework over and should be able to blog more regularly again. I enjoyed taking classes but writing short essays is antagonistic to my grand thematising and meeting deadlines (which I did meet, while many others asked for extentions) and word counts (which I never met) stressful and not conducive to handing in my best work. I am excited about a next couple of months full of of reading and thinking about how to narrow my thesis topic.
It has been a stressful couple of weeks, finishing my last essay, the exam, losing my wallet and the cardholder I wear around my neck and breaking up with A. (This blog is probably not the place to discuss the latter. Suffice it to say I am getting used to the idea of myself as a more melancholy person. Perhaps that will go away soon or perhaps that is what life is meant to do to you?)
On Wednesday evening I went to a party in St Kilda with the folks in CCLS after working on my essay through the afternoon. I was out until 3.30am with a couple of very drunk men, a not-so drunk gal and a boy sober like me. I had a lovely time, chatting, drinking red wine and dancing to Blondie in C's apartment and to alternative rock at Cherry bar, but I was ready to go home by 2.00am afer we were thrown out of Cherry at closing hour. I did not go home in order to share the price of a taxi northwest with two others. The drunk blokes wanted to keep partying but after another hour of unsuccessfully searching for an open club in between fits of existential angst on the part of D, which saw him laying on pavements or floors, dragged around by J or throwing himself into a dumpster full of building materials or tipping over garbage bins, I was glad to go home. I admit to being somewhat amused with D's antics, his touchy-feely embracing of life and rapid alternation between optimism and nihilism, but I was also partly bored and exasperated, ready to leave to sleep on the floor for the night. I haven't been around someone that drunk in a long time, but he had his charms. The only problem with the evening was that when I got into the cab upon leaving C's apartment, I no longer had my purse. It must have fallen out of my bag. I am hoping it is at her place, but C hasn't been home to check.
On Thursday I had a lunch date with R, which was lovely - fake-meat noodle soup in the Target Centre - except that when I arrived at Parliament Station to go back home to finish my essay I realised my student card and yearly Met ticket were no longer hanging off my neck. It was very distressing, not only because I needed to be essay-writing rather than retracing my steps and asking security guards and staff if they'd found a blue cardholder, but because the best way I know not lose stuff is to keep it around my neck (unbelievably I still haven't lost my mobile phone). I haven't lost a key since college, when my senior house resident at Bard suggested the strategy after I kept locking myself out of my dorm room. The Metcard can be replaced for $12 but the Monash student card replacement fee is exorbitnat - $60 or $70. I filed a police report in the hopes that rumours of a fee discount with presentation of said report will prove to be true. I wouldn't care about the student card except that it is my library card as well.
I should remember not to leave the house when I haven't had much sleep and am stressed out. This is always when disaster strikes and every time I tell myself I shouldn't leave the house.
On Friday A arrived and we had a lovely weekend: with the Saturday coffee group that I've been inducted into (thanks to Ann), to a folky/bluesy gig with Ann, to Transport bar at Fed Square, the Moroccon Soup Bar, gelati with E, to the markets to meet A. I am distracting myself from the deep grief over the end of my relationship with A by socialisation. J is coming to play with me on Sunday, which I'm very much looking forward to. In the meantime, now I shall head off to Santucci's in Carnegie to see if any of the women I met a couple of months ago are haning out there tonight.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Friday, May 18, 2007
Cafe #19: Chocolateria San Churro
Date: Friday, 11 April 2007, 5.00pm
Location: Brunswick St near Victoria St, Fitzroy
Coffee: $4.90, Spanish mocha - delicious
Reading: Being and Time
I wrestled with Derrida again last night until close to 3.00am. I think I 'translate' about a paragraph an hour. I woke up at 11.00am today, which meant a late start on more Derrida. I don't think I got through more than two pages. This insistence on tackling Derrida seems a bit masochistic but I am a bit proud of myself as well. I still am not sure why it is necessary to be so complicated (Heidegger's language is much more straightforward) but I am not as sure as I used to be that the purpose of its difficulty is to hide the flaws in the theory. Still, it is difficult to argue with something so abstract as how the way we conceptualise meaning and thinking is affected by an idea of the unity of truth that we'd like to preserve. For this next essay, though I think I'm going to structurally analyse and deconstruct a Salinger story, maybe my interest will take me elsewhere - or distract me from my goal. I'm considering looking at the play Copenhagen instead of Salinger since it is a play about philosophical issues and it interests me more. Hopefully something comes together - with less grief than it did last time.
I meant to walk to Smith Street to treat myself to a cafe work-read, but discovered Gertrude Street, which is perpendicular to Smith and has many funky and artsy shops. I didn't find an open cafe however (as opposed to a restaurant or bar) and ended up on Brunswick St. I haven't been to this part of Brunswick Street yet while living in Melboune, and am not sure if I've ever been here. The chocolateria seemed the likeliest place to obtain a coffee only, given the dinner-time nature of the hour. The cafe is a long narrow shop all wood and brick, with orange baroque-patterned grating windows and frilly brown and orange aprons on sale. The mocha was thick, creamy, deep and beautiful.
It has been a good week. I didn't do too badly on that first paper (Derrida and Barthes) - 3 points only off a High Distinction, with the major comments being such that I should be able to fix quite easily for the next paper. Mainly the paper was marked down for being under-researched (which it was given the (now I realise) overblown claims I made in the introduction and conclusion). I was relieved the major issues were not with my argument or interpretation. The paper felt like a risk and I am glad the risk was one well taken.
I got to take centre stage in the feminism class of my Wednesday Critical Theory course as the only female in the seminar and, you know, actually knowing about feminist theory. I had a good chat afterwards with two other Masters students, talking about sexuality and Cisoux and gender. Yesterday I saw K at her apartment in Docklands. She cooked me a lovely frittatta and plied me with red wine. The highlight of the afternoon was scoping out a couple of fancy time-share luxury boats. They were beautiful things, replete with beds, fridges and barbeques. Check out photos of the boats here (http://www.leisureboating.com.au/Boats.asp?sessionID=), though I don't remember which ones we saw - two of the biggest, anyway, though I liked the smaller one better. I told K that if they do join the club she MUST take me out on the boat.
On Monday evening I went to a great feminist lecture (check out http://lipmag.blogspot.com for details). It made me understand that after this experiment with critical theory I will go back to feminism - so much more immediately relevant to what's going on in the world right now. Tomorrow night is a Frencham Smith gig.
I certainly could have gotten more work done this week but I'm going to try to do some significant hours of work over the weekend to make up for it.
Hmmm, need a new notebook...
Location: Brunswick St near Victoria St, Fitzroy
Coffee: $4.90, Spanish mocha - delicious
Reading: Being and Time
I wrestled with Derrida again last night until close to 3.00am. I think I 'translate' about a paragraph an hour. I woke up at 11.00am today, which meant a late start on more Derrida. I don't think I got through more than two pages. This insistence on tackling Derrida seems a bit masochistic but I am a bit proud of myself as well. I still am not sure why it is necessary to be so complicated (Heidegger's language is much more straightforward) but I am not as sure as I used to be that the purpose of its difficulty is to hide the flaws in the theory. Still, it is difficult to argue with something so abstract as how the way we conceptualise meaning and thinking is affected by an idea of the unity of truth that we'd like to preserve. For this next essay, though I think I'm going to structurally analyse and deconstruct a Salinger story, maybe my interest will take me elsewhere - or distract me from my goal. I'm considering looking at the play Copenhagen instead of Salinger since it is a play about philosophical issues and it interests me more. Hopefully something comes together - with less grief than it did last time.
I meant to walk to Smith Street to treat myself to a cafe work-read, but discovered Gertrude Street, which is perpendicular to Smith and has many funky and artsy shops. I didn't find an open cafe however (as opposed to a restaurant or bar) and ended up on Brunswick St. I haven't been to this part of Brunswick Street yet while living in Melboune, and am not sure if I've ever been here. The chocolateria seemed the likeliest place to obtain a coffee only, given the dinner-time nature of the hour. The cafe is a long narrow shop all wood and brick, with orange baroque-patterned grating windows and frilly brown and orange aprons on sale. The mocha was thick, creamy, deep and beautiful.
It has been a good week. I didn't do too badly on that first paper (Derrida and Barthes) - 3 points only off a High Distinction, with the major comments being such that I should be able to fix quite easily for the next paper. Mainly the paper was marked down for being under-researched (which it was given the (now I realise) overblown claims I made in the introduction and conclusion). I was relieved the major issues were not with my argument or interpretation. The paper felt like a risk and I am glad the risk was one well taken.
I got to take centre stage in the feminism class of my Wednesday Critical Theory course as the only female in the seminar and, you know, actually knowing about feminist theory. I had a good chat afterwards with two other Masters students, talking about sexuality and Cisoux and gender. Yesterday I saw K at her apartment in Docklands. She cooked me a lovely frittatta and plied me with red wine. The highlight of the afternoon was scoping out a couple of fancy time-share luxury boats. They were beautiful things, replete with beds, fridges and barbeques. Check out photos of the boats here (http://www.leisureboating.com.au/Boats.asp?sessionID=), though I don't remember which ones we saw - two of the biggest, anyway, though I liked the smaller one better. I told K that if they do join the club she MUST take me out on the boat.
On Monday evening I went to a great feminist lecture (check out http://lipmag.blogspot.com for details). It made me understand that after this experiment with critical theory I will go back to feminism - so much more immediately relevant to what's going on in the world right now. Tomorrow night is a Frencham Smith gig.
I certainly could have gotten more work done this week but I'm going to try to do some significant hours of work over the weekend to make up for it.
Hmmm, need a new notebook...
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Cafe #18: Koko Black
Date: Tuesday, 1 May 2007, 2.30pm
Location: Shop 4, Royal Arcade, Bourke St, Melbourne
Coffee: $5.50, chili hot chocolate - very chili
Reading: Thomas the Obscure
I'm feeling a bit dazey la-la from my cold. I worked at the bookshop yesterday, thanks to cold pills, and slept for more than twelve hours last night. Today I wanted for myself to relax and clean the house a bit, get done some personal activities - reading, writing, email. I cleaned the sink and shower this morning, then met E and A at the markets. Following our usual lunch and shop, A and I had our usual coffee at the market, and now I am here, nursing a hot chocolate.
Koko Black is one of the several chocolate lounges in Melbourne (one surely must love a city with several chocolate lounges). I am upstairs in the Victorian cathedral-roofed arcade, in the a tanny-cream space of chocolate vinyl chairs and couches, and orange and cream wallpaper. There is a a mirror and old black and white photograph of a chocolate factory framed in gilt and swirly tan granite-topped tables.
At 2.30 in the morning on Sunday I emailed in the second paper that I have been furiously working on for the past few weeks. I wasn't very happy with either paper (one 4500 words, the other 5500 words). My Critical Theory paper was about 500 words too long and the Semiotics and Poststructuralism paper I just lost interest in (plus, Petersburg is such a loaded book, every sentence symbolic, that I could not possibly do it any kind of justice in the time/space available. I'd needed to have read it again and taken very extensive notes - which is difficult when reading a book is fun). I wish the final papers had reflected how much work I actually put into them but I'm afraid they didn't, as much of what I put work into didn't actually make it into the papers (significant expositions of Peirce, Derrida and Bely). It Will be interesting to see what marks I get. The second paper, on Peircean semiotics, the novel Petersburg by Andrei Bely and Bely's theory of Symbolism struck me rather as an undergraduate effort, though I didn't feel that way about the Derrida/Barthes deconstruction essay. I've got one more 4500 word essay to do (will probably do more with Derrida and Barthes) and then I look forward to having a year to write a thesis.
It has been a good week despite the papers. On Thursday my semiotics professor put the office to some effort to get in touch with me (via Canberra; my mobile was off while I was studying in the library) so she could offer me her spare ticket to opening night at the opera. It was Dvorak - Rusalka - and was an incredibly beautiful and sad production. It was, I think, the best production of an opera I've seen and I suppose my favourite as well - even better than Aida. The British singer, Sally Matthews, who played Rusalka was wonderful, a fine actress and dancer as well as singer. I believed her at every moment (think little mermaid; Rusalka is basically that story in its most tragic form). I feel so privileged to have been able to see that production and will always have a special place in my heart for my professor, despite our intellectual disagreements.
On Friday I met a friend of K's for coffee in the city and enjoyed chatting with her about theses, Bristol, Melbourne, slow food, etc. There was an art project launch going on under Flinders Street Station so I went down for free wine and to see whom I might see. I chatted with a PhD student from CCLS (the centre in which I study) and her friend, caught up with P from Is Not Magazine and L from Sticky. L gave me a heads-up about the Victorian arts grants and Is Not throws fundraising parties, so hopefully something fruitful will come of either meeting. On Wednesday night, after a full day at home, essay writing, I took myself to the pub. I couldn't bear not having spoken to another person all day any longer and by 8.30pm was desparate. I ended up at the Retreat, a florid old pub that I had not been to before. I ordered a Stella, saw a boy sitting by himself and asked him if he was alone. He replied in the affirmative and asked if I wanted to join him. I also replied in the affirmative and sat down at his table. I did most of the work pushing the conversation along and sometimes struggled to catch the words articulated in his very quiet voice, but he proved to be an interesting subject: a chef at Lentil as Anything. I chatted with him for a while then came back home to more work. I was very proud of myself for striking up conversation with a random boy.
On Saturday night was a 13th birthday party for A's cat and Sunday was home and essay writing.
How much lighter I feel without those essays. I felt incredibly stressed by them and worked long hours those last couple of weeks. I know I should get started on the next essay soon to avoid that problem again. I'll give myself this week off, though. I deserve and need it.
Location: Shop 4, Royal Arcade, Bourke St, Melbourne
Coffee: $5.50, chili hot chocolate - very chili
Reading: Thomas the Obscure
I'm feeling a bit dazey la-la from my cold. I worked at the bookshop yesterday, thanks to cold pills, and slept for more than twelve hours last night. Today I wanted for myself to relax and clean the house a bit, get done some personal activities - reading, writing, email. I cleaned the sink and shower this morning, then met E and A at the markets. Following our usual lunch and shop, A and I had our usual coffee at the market, and now I am here, nursing a hot chocolate.
Koko Black is one of the several chocolate lounges in Melbourne (one surely must love a city with several chocolate lounges). I am upstairs in the Victorian cathedral-roofed arcade, in the a tanny-cream space of chocolate vinyl chairs and couches, and orange and cream wallpaper. There is a a mirror and old black and white photograph of a chocolate factory framed in gilt and swirly tan granite-topped tables.
At 2.30 in the morning on Sunday I emailed in the second paper that I have been furiously working on for the past few weeks. I wasn't very happy with either paper (one 4500 words, the other 5500 words). My Critical Theory paper was about 500 words too long and the Semiotics and Poststructuralism paper I just lost interest in (plus, Petersburg is such a loaded book, every sentence symbolic, that I could not possibly do it any kind of justice in the time/space available. I'd needed to have read it again and taken very extensive notes - which is difficult when reading a book is fun). I wish the final papers had reflected how much work I actually put into them but I'm afraid they didn't, as much of what I put work into didn't actually make it into the papers (significant expositions of Peirce, Derrida and Bely). It Will be interesting to see what marks I get. The second paper, on Peircean semiotics, the novel Petersburg by Andrei Bely and Bely's theory of Symbolism struck me rather as an undergraduate effort, though I didn't feel that way about the Derrida/Barthes deconstruction essay. I've got one more 4500 word essay to do (will probably do more with Derrida and Barthes) and then I look forward to having a year to write a thesis.
It has been a good week despite the papers. On Thursday my semiotics professor put the office to some effort to get in touch with me (via Canberra; my mobile was off while I was studying in the library) so she could offer me her spare ticket to opening night at the opera. It was Dvorak - Rusalka - and was an incredibly beautiful and sad production. It was, I think, the best production of an opera I've seen and I suppose my favourite as well - even better than Aida. The British singer, Sally Matthews, who played Rusalka was wonderful, a fine actress and dancer as well as singer. I believed her at every moment (think little mermaid; Rusalka is basically that story in its most tragic form). I feel so privileged to have been able to see that production and will always have a special place in my heart for my professor, despite our intellectual disagreements.
On Friday I met a friend of K's for coffee in the city and enjoyed chatting with her about theses, Bristol, Melbourne, slow food, etc. There was an art project launch going on under Flinders Street Station so I went down for free wine and to see whom I might see. I chatted with a PhD student from CCLS (the centre in which I study) and her friend, caught up with P from Is Not Magazine and L from Sticky. L gave me a heads-up about the Victorian arts grants and Is Not throws fundraising parties, so hopefully something fruitful will come of either meeting. On Wednesday night, after a full day at home, essay writing, I took myself to the pub. I couldn't bear not having spoken to another person all day any longer and by 8.30pm was desparate. I ended up at the Retreat, a florid old pub that I had not been to before. I ordered a Stella, saw a boy sitting by himself and asked him if he was alone. He replied in the affirmative and asked if I wanted to join him. I also replied in the affirmative and sat down at his table. I did most of the work pushing the conversation along and sometimes struggled to catch the words articulated in his very quiet voice, but he proved to be an interesting subject: a chef at Lentil as Anything. I chatted with him for a while then came back home to more work. I was very proud of myself for striking up conversation with a random boy.
On Saturday night was a 13th birthday party for A's cat and Sunday was home and essay writing.
How much lighter I feel without those essays. I felt incredibly stressed by them and worked long hours those last couple of weeks. I know I should get started on the next essay soon to avoid that problem again. I'll give myself this week off, though. I deserve and need it.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Cafe #17: I wrote this down somewhere...
Date: Tuesday, 24 April 2007, 1.45pm
Location: Kew
Coffee: $3.30, cappucino - good
Reading: Selected Essays of Andrei Bely
I took the tram and train to Box Hill today for an appointment at Family Planning VIC. I am considering changing my birth control from Implanon (the implant) to an IUD. I came all the way out to Box Hill (in zone two!) because I have always gone to family planning for birth control matters. I don't really trust anyone else. I had a good chat with a couple of doctors and have come out with an Implanon prescription if I choose to stick with that method and advice to go to the Royal Melbourne Women's Hospital for the IUD if I choose that method.
I expected to be advised against the IUD but I wasn't. The doctors (a trainee doctor was there as well) took no position. The Mirena IUD has a little bit of progesterone, which can stop one's periods altogether - really appealing. The copper one has no hormones at all - also appealing, and why I am considering an IUD (I haven't experience my natural hormone cycle since I was 21), though probably not as appealing as no period. Either IUD can stay in for 5 years, but the initial insertion is a bigger deal and more painful, requires more appointments than Implanon and I may not like my own hormones. I have time to decide what I want to do.
Following my appointment, I travelled the 109 tram towards Port Melbourne and have gotten off at Kew. There are many nice restaraunts and cafes but all seem quite expensive. I wanted lunch but didn't want to pay more than $10 - so I ended up at a cafe with baclava and coffee instead of lunch. I had hoped a cafe called ??? would have falafel on the menu. No such luck.
??? is a pleasant cafe with an old dark wood floor and heavy green marble-topped tables. There is a tube of multicoloured blinking lights around the windows and the walls are brown, cream-peachy and orange (different walls, different colours). There are bar seats in two windows and small white vases of fake rosebuds and lily-of-the-vally on the tables. It is a classy cafe with a Euroean feel, but I don't feel comfortable staing too long. Plus I have this essay due on Friday...
The baclava was alright - probably quite authentic but very nutmeggy and sweet.
It is a beautiful day outside despite the chilliness of the morning so I shall probably stay out a bit more, hunt for cheap falafel.
Location: Kew
Coffee: $3.30, cappucino - good
Reading: Selected Essays of Andrei Bely
I took the tram and train to Box Hill today for an appointment at Family Planning VIC. I am considering changing my birth control from Implanon (the implant) to an IUD. I came all the way out to Box Hill (in zone two!) because I have always gone to family planning for birth control matters. I don't really trust anyone else. I had a good chat with a couple of doctors and have come out with an Implanon prescription if I choose to stick with that method and advice to go to the Royal Melbourne Women's Hospital for the IUD if I choose that method.
I expected to be advised against the IUD but I wasn't. The doctors (a trainee doctor was there as well) took no position. The Mirena IUD has a little bit of progesterone, which can stop one's periods altogether - really appealing. The copper one has no hormones at all - also appealing, and why I am considering an IUD (I haven't experience my natural hormone cycle since I was 21), though probably not as appealing as no period. Either IUD can stay in for 5 years, but the initial insertion is a bigger deal and more painful, requires more appointments than Implanon and I may not like my own hormones. I have time to decide what I want to do.
Following my appointment, I travelled the 109 tram towards Port Melbourne and have gotten off at Kew. There are many nice restaraunts and cafes but all seem quite expensive. I wanted lunch but didn't want to pay more than $10 - so I ended up at a cafe with baclava and coffee instead of lunch. I had hoped a cafe called ??? would have falafel on the menu. No such luck.
??? is a pleasant cafe with an old dark wood floor and heavy green marble-topped tables. There is a tube of multicoloured blinking lights around the windows and the walls are brown, cream-peachy and orange (different walls, different colours). There are bar seats in two windows and small white vases of fake rosebuds and lily-of-the-vally on the tables. It is a classy cafe with a Euroean feel, but I don't feel comfortable staing too long. Plus I have this essay due on Friday...
The baclava was alright - probably quite authentic but very nutmeggy and sweet.
It is a beautiful day outside despite the chilliness of the morning so I shall probably stay out a bit more, hunt for cheap falafel.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Café #16: Bigmouth
Date: Friday, 13 April 2007, 7.45pm
Location: corner Acland and Fitzroy Streets, St Kilda
Wine: $5.00, red - okay (no gluten-free)
Reading: Petersburg
Location: corner Acland and Fitzroy Streets, St Kilda
Wine: $5.00, red - okay (no gluten-free)
Reading: Petersburg
I am sitting in a glass-windowed room with low lighting, leather window-benches, black-clothed tables, with candles and curls of red pinprick Christmas lights hung from the verandah roof on both sides of the corner cafe. There is a (fake) fern and flowers on top of the cake counter and a vase of peach lilies on the raised bar-style table traversing diagonally the centre of the room. There are copper-painted walls with black and gold swirly ferny designs in the corner window.
Previous to now I walked along St Kilda beach, reading Petersburg. I must get it finished tonight so I can start writing my essay tomorrow. I still have about thirty pages to go and am feeling drowsy. I suppose the red wine doesn’t help with that.
Reading Petersburg again has been a pleasure. However, I do now look forward to being done and embarking upon a previously unread book – and getting the paper done. It doesn’t really interest me; I like the book very much, but I don’t feel the need to write an essay on it at the moment. The Derrida/Barthes essay interests me more. Reading about Bely’s Symbolism makes me wonder if what I want to explore for my thesis is actually rationality and metaphysics: is metaphysics rational or religious? Does that depend on how you define metaphysics? Is it characterised by a sense of reality outside of the materially experienced world or is it the sense of transcendental meaning that exists outside of the systems of human meaning-making? I don’t know yet.
I wandered around the St Kilda Readings bookshop (After having potato cakes and chips – strange healthy-battered cakes that tasted brown-ricey. Great chips though.) feeling burdened by all the philosophy and modern classics I’ve still to read. Maybe I waste time reading random contemporary fiction. Hopefully there’s room enough in my life for both.
My week-long holiday is almost over. I have to get up at 7.30am on Monday to go to work. It’s been lovely: I got lots done – cleaning, organising, filling out forms, breaking dishware, cooking, op shopping (for some warm clothes and some cute clothes) and studying. Me and Derrida have spent a lot of time together over the past week, with Barthes interrupting at the end. I wrote an essay contribution for a Vibewire project, got to a comedy festival performance with Tony and Alison, who are visiting Melbourne for the festival and family. We saw Greg Fleet and Mick Moriarty. It was not a very funny stand-up routine and Greg told a joke about a husband who watched his wife give birth likening the experience to watching his favourite pub burning down. That put me right off. It boggles me that in today’s supposedly (post)feminist times such jokes still get told.
Anyway, I should be off home to sew up some holes in my clothes...
Monday, April 9, 2007
Cafe #15: The Local
Date: Good Friday, 6 April 2007, 3.10pm
Location: 22/24 Bay Street, Port Melbourne
Wine: $5.50, white - okay
Reading: Of Grammatology
Okay, so this is a pub and not a cafe, I'm drinking wine not coffee, but I've got a view out to the bay, a glass of cold drink and a pencil. It is a beautiful, sunny day after a week of rain and chill. There are idyllic puffy clouds in the sky and enormous puffy bluebottle jellyfish on the shore, often looking like a blown-up latex doctor's glove.
Today I am discovering Port Melbourne. The Port itself is boardwalks and trendy restaurants, but if you walk around it you reach the beach. The beaches are small but more inviting than St Kilda - less rocky and shallow - which is several beaches farther on.
I will be short because I'm writing with a blunt-leaded pencil. The past several days have been good. I've done some good thinking - phenomenology, Derrida, Barthes... The more I read those last two the more I find myself agreeing with them. Oi, such changes. (More difficult to write a paper in agreement...) Maybe I can figure out if Barthes theory of reading works with Derrida's theory of writing.
Oooh, 'Everybody Wants to Rule the World' is emanating from the pub! It is a cute and oldish pub, upkept old, not crumbling old. Browny-grey, maroon and beigey-yellow. Richly patterned carpet, a stained glass panel topping the roof of the bar with antique books lined up on top.
Okay, pencil nearly dead.
Location: 22/24 Bay Street, Port Melbourne
Wine: $5.50, white - okay
Reading: Of Grammatology
Okay, so this is a pub and not a cafe, I'm drinking wine not coffee, but I've got a view out to the bay, a glass of cold drink and a pencil. It is a beautiful, sunny day after a week of rain and chill. There are idyllic puffy clouds in the sky and enormous puffy bluebottle jellyfish on the shore, often looking like a blown-up latex doctor's glove.
Today I am discovering Port Melbourne. The Port itself is boardwalks and trendy restaurants, but if you walk around it you reach the beach. The beaches are small but more inviting than St Kilda - less rocky and shallow - which is several beaches farther on.
I will be short because I'm writing with a blunt-leaded pencil. The past several days have been good. I've done some good thinking - phenomenology, Derrida, Barthes... The more I read those last two the more I find myself agreeing with them. Oi, such changes. (More difficult to write a paper in agreement...) Maybe I can figure out if Barthes theory of reading works with Derrida's theory of writing.
Oooh, 'Everybody Wants to Rule the World' is emanating from the pub! It is a cute and oldish pub, upkept old, not crumbling old. Browny-grey, maroon and beigey-yellow. Richly patterned carpet, a stained glass panel topping the roof of the bar with antique books lined up on top.
Okay, pencil nearly dead.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Cafe #14: Friends of the Earth
Date: Saturday, 24 March 2007, 3.10pm
Location: Smith and Perry Streets, Fitzroy
Coffee: $3.50, latte - okay
Reading: The Dialectic of Enlightenment
I'm writing with my lovely felt-tip purple pen, the one that's yellow with white pinstripes!
I can't imagine that I deserve to have life feel this good. I now have: a great house, a great housemate, a bookshop job, a few fun and lovely friends, a bunch of engaged and smart people to share seminars with, and lots of spontaneity and sun. What more can a person want except not to have a job at all?
Now that I know when I work and when I go to class I think I may go to some social swing dances again or try to find some other sort of group-type thing in order to facilitate meeting more people. Maybe finding folk music nights or poetry slams or somesuch.
It has been an up-and-down week. I will not go much into the down. I completed my first assignment, a 2000-word class presentation, which I think went fine and of which I am curious to see what mark it earns. I wrote/talked about Foucault's notions of modernism - simulacra and transgression - and Lacan's mirror stage theory: Ideal-I, Gestalt, imago, ego. Then I used the theories to interpret a few of Picasso's renderings of Velazquez's painting entitled Las Meninas. It was a fun exercise to interpret art, but I am afraid I may have ran away with my concepts in the flow of writing. Did it all make sense, or was it mere linguistic flourish? This is a problem, I think, that many modern and postmodern theorists suffer from. Difficult and sometimes pretty to read, but sensible?
My first day of paid employment was yesterday and I trained at the Caulfield campus bookshop. On Monday I begin at the Alfred Hospital branch, which I understand is to be my working home. It was a good first day as far as first days at new jobs go. I am very lucky to have avoided first semester rush. But second semester rush will happen. I was also lucky to have begun work on the day of a big end-of-rush party. This involved a lovely zen-ish cafe venue with a separate function room, an open bar kindly payed for by my employer, lovely finger foods (including a huge bowl of only-okay baba ghannouj), and two fellow employees (men) with guitars and a classic rock repetoire. S opened his time as entertainer with Wish You Were Here, so I felt sure I was in the right workplace. After the men with guitars put away their guitars, the bar put on dance music and several of us, mostly women, danced and danced. It was a lovely time. I left around 9.15pm to take Ann out. We went to a cute local pub, with ratty couches and a leg-kicking lamp on the bar, and listened to a good band with an awesome slide player. All I need now is to sleep better - been a bit insomniac - and all will be perfect.
Friends of the Earth is a hippy joint - all organic and fair trade and bulk. It is a big wood shop, with books and t-shirts, candles and vegies and hippies cooking lunch. The background music is quiet and bell-like, which is a nice change from the usual cafe jazz. There are hardly any people here, but there is a child.
Location: Smith and Perry Streets, Fitzroy
Coffee: $3.50, latte - okay
Reading: The Dialectic of Enlightenment
I'm writing with my lovely felt-tip purple pen, the one that's yellow with white pinstripes!
I can't imagine that I deserve to have life feel this good. I now have: a great house, a great housemate, a bookshop job, a few fun and lovely friends, a bunch of engaged and smart people to share seminars with, and lots of spontaneity and sun. What more can a person want except not to have a job at all?
Now that I know when I work and when I go to class I think I may go to some social swing dances again or try to find some other sort of group-type thing in order to facilitate meeting more people. Maybe finding folk music nights or poetry slams or somesuch.
It has been an up-and-down week. I will not go much into the down. I completed my first assignment, a 2000-word class presentation, which I think went fine and of which I am curious to see what mark it earns. I wrote/talked about Foucault's notions of modernism - simulacra and transgression - and Lacan's mirror stage theory: Ideal-I, Gestalt, imago, ego. Then I used the theories to interpret a few of Picasso's renderings of Velazquez's painting entitled Las Meninas. It was a fun exercise to interpret art, but I am afraid I may have ran away with my concepts in the flow of writing. Did it all make sense, or was it mere linguistic flourish? This is a problem, I think, that many modern and postmodern theorists suffer from. Difficult and sometimes pretty to read, but sensible?
My first day of paid employment was yesterday and I trained at the Caulfield campus bookshop. On Monday I begin at the Alfred Hospital branch, which I understand is to be my working home. It was a good first day as far as first days at new jobs go. I am very lucky to have avoided first semester rush. But second semester rush will happen. I was also lucky to have begun work on the day of a big end-of-rush party. This involved a lovely zen-ish cafe venue with a separate function room, an open bar kindly payed for by my employer, lovely finger foods (including a huge bowl of only-okay baba ghannouj), and two fellow employees (men) with guitars and a classic rock repetoire. S opened his time as entertainer with Wish You Were Here, so I felt sure I was in the right workplace. After the men with guitars put away their guitars, the bar put on dance music and several of us, mostly women, danced and danced. It was a lovely time. I left around 9.15pm to take Ann out. We went to a cute local pub, with ratty couches and a leg-kicking lamp on the bar, and listened to a good band with an awesome slide player. All I need now is to sleep better - been a bit insomniac - and all will be perfect.
Friends of the Earth is a hippy joint - all organic and fair trade and bulk. It is a big wood shop, with books and t-shirts, candles and vegies and hippies cooking lunch. The background music is quiet and bell-like, which is a nice change from the usual cafe jazz. There are hardly any people here, but there is a child.
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