Date: 28 December 2007, 7.30pm
Location: Degraves St, City
Coffee: $3.30 - latte, weakish
Reading: The End of History and the Last Man
This is a well-frequented and very popular cafe. Degraves and Flinders lanes are cute, funky, very Melbourne, though I'm not sure of the tourist-to-local ratio. I'd assume it's more local as I don't know if the tourists would find the lanes (I didn't when I was a tourist). Degraves is supposed to serve one of the best coffees in Melbourne but mine was pretty crap. In any case, in the city of coffee there is never any reason to pay more than $3.00 for a cup of coffee, particularly if it isn't fairtrade, in my opinion.
On another note, I suppose you've noticed that these blogs have been much less frequent lately. That is partly to do with spending more time studying, partly frustration with dial-up internet, and a lot to do with my poverty, which means I'm drinking my coffees at home rather than spending money at cafes. But I'll try do at least one a month, so do check back here every so often if you continue to be interested in Rachel's Melbourne Adventure. Now that it is summertime, I'll try to head out to the ends of the trainlines for walking explorations of the suburbs, and that should definitely involve cafe blogging.
I have spent the day at my flat, thesis writing, a little bit of cleaning, a tad of a nap. I am cat-sitting for E and am engaged in a battle of wills with the kitten (teenager) over going outside and shitting in the litterbox rather than on the floor. I will win, being human and in control of the front door, but he only halfway defies me, i.e. runs out the door then comes to a standstill so he can be picked up and brought back inside. Dumb cat. He could try shitting all over the place instead of just in the bathroom. Most likely that would do me in. Well, more likely would get him locked in the bathroom. He whines and kvetches loudly at me to be let outside, so getting away from him for the afternoon was nice. But he is also very affectionate and sweet to go to sleep with and wake up to. The other cat is very lovely - a cat with dignity.
Cat-food handling makes me rethink wanting a cat of my own.
Christmas with K's family was quite satisfying. I was hesitant to go, thinking I'd be reminded that it isn't my own family and maybe would feel like I was circling around the fringes of a group of people who hadn't seen each other in a long time, but K's grandmother especially made me feel welcome, making quite a fuss over me. I had good chats with her mother and her cousin's about-to-be-husband, who was a chef and is now a photographer. I participated in the Secret Santa and played a bit of badminton. Mostly, though, I ate. Y, the fiance, made beautiful bruschetta, a cool and addictive soba noodle and seaweed salad, grilled yellow zucchini and eggplant and then sundry barbequed meats and mussels that I did not partake of. There was also an excellent potato salad and a decadent salad of baby spinach, pumpkin, feta and roasted pine nuts with pesto dressing. There was homemade Christmas pudding for dessert and Y made proper espresso lattes. I had two of those. After days of storms and intense rain, the sun was out for a beautiful pleasantly hot blue-skied day. So thank you to K's family for making my first Christmas completely familyless one to remember fondly.
Over the holidays I also spent some time with S, who left back for Canberra today. I really wanted S to experience the Nova so we went to see Couers, a French adaptation of an Alan Ayckburn play about loneliness and sexuality. It was alright - psychologically unsurprising people that one doesn't really get to know enough to appreciate. There's much that is hinted at and alluded to that possibly would have been more interesting out in the open. It wasn't a movie that either of us were dying to see, but there wasn't much to choose from, which is unusual for the Nova. And a shame, since there is much that I wanted to see that was out just before Christmas and missed and that I want to see and is coming out just after and may miss. I don't really have enough money to see the movies I want to see, let alone the one's I don't particularly...
I haven't taken a break from studying but am using the holiday time on my own (A2 is in NZ) to write without the distraction of domestic sociality. And there's a lack of non-domestic sociality as well, as E is also in New Zealand and uni is out. It isn't a drought, though. Before Christmas I went to see a beautiful little puppet show about death, bad will, ageing and lovewith L, called Apples and Ladders (shadow as well as handheld puppets with handles on the backs of their heads and the puppeteers in full view and part of the performance and even a couple melodramatic songs the puppets were choreographed to) ; and yesterday I had drinks with A3 and took him to dinner with K and her mum at their Collingwood housesit. A relaxing and friendly evening.
I've decided to inflict Ulysses on myself as it is an imprtant modernist text. I don't understand most of it, but I will treat it like a piece of art and not worry about understanding it. Just try and appreciate its form. Maybe one day I'll read the fully annnotated version (if there is one) but the 900-page clean version is long enough. Mom sent me David Sedaris's Santaland Diaries for my birthday and N her copy of the Modern Jewish Girl's Guide to Guilt, so I have some light reading to get onto once I finish Fukuyama. My goal this couple of Christmas weeks without any work is to get heaps of reading done, but unfortunately I get sleepy...
On that note, you might be getting sleepy....
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Cafe #30: Edna's Place
Date: 9 December 2007, 4.40pm
Location: Glenhuntly Rd, near Carre St, Elsternwick
Coffee: $3.00 (didn't give it a try)
This is a great cafe. I'm sitting on a velvety olive-green couch in a window alcove, looking out at the busy street. The black-painted wood floor slants upwards to the window corner and there are three red-stencilled three-rose patterns on the window. Walls are yellow and maroony-brown and there is a standing lamp with bright multi-colour plastic flower chains hanging down the shade. In front of me is an oval wooden coffee table. Behind me the left wall of the cafe has shelves of chatchkes - dishes, teapots, jugs - and the counter looks like an old-fashioned general store's, with wooden cabinets. It's a cosy, lovely cafe, though I could do without the annoying radio station that is being played. I didn't get coffee but instead a chocloate scroll - I can't afford both these days. It was nice.
I wanted to go to the beach today, but of course it is now windy and chilly - just my luck. And I'm dressed for the beach.
The colloquium I helped organise happened on Monday and Tuesday. The papers presented were great, the panel was good, but not enough people came: for example, seven audience members for five panellists. The early morning papers had almost no one to hear them. Nevertheless, I was most impressed with the quality of the papers and enjoyability of their presentations. We are chalking the lack of crowds up to bad choice of dates and focussing on feedback that it was a relaxed and enjoyable colloquium.
I presented my first academic paper, which went well, though I didn't feel it was as highly intellectual as others. I'm glad the colloquium is over and that my confirmation report has been handed in. They were taking me away from my thesis. This weekend I have finally gotten back to work on Foucault after some days of fulltime work as a Student Advocate and doing invigilation at Melbourne Uni.
Cafe closing, so must go.
Location: Glenhuntly Rd, near Carre St, Elsternwick
Coffee: $3.00 (didn't give it a try)
This is a great cafe. I'm sitting on a velvety olive-green couch in a window alcove, looking out at the busy street. The black-painted wood floor slants upwards to the window corner and there are three red-stencilled three-rose patterns on the window. Walls are yellow and maroony-brown and there is a standing lamp with bright multi-colour plastic flower chains hanging down the shade. In front of me is an oval wooden coffee table. Behind me the left wall of the cafe has shelves of chatchkes - dishes, teapots, jugs - and the counter looks like an old-fashioned general store's, with wooden cabinets. It's a cosy, lovely cafe, though I could do without the annoying radio station that is being played. I didn't get coffee but instead a chocloate scroll - I can't afford both these days. It was nice.
I wanted to go to the beach today, but of course it is now windy and chilly - just my luck. And I'm dressed for the beach.
The colloquium I helped organise happened on Monday and Tuesday. The papers presented were great, the panel was good, but not enough people came: for example, seven audience members for five panellists. The early morning papers had almost no one to hear them. Nevertheless, I was most impressed with the quality of the papers and enjoyability of their presentations. We are chalking the lack of crowds up to bad choice of dates and focussing on feedback that it was a relaxed and enjoyable colloquium.
I presented my first academic paper, which went well, though I didn't feel it was as highly intellectual as others. I'm glad the colloquium is over and that my confirmation report has been handed in. They were taking me away from my thesis. This weekend I have finally gotten back to work on Foucault after some days of fulltime work as a Student Advocate and doing invigilation at Melbourne Uni.
Cafe closing, so must go.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Cafe #29: ice-creamery and chocolateria
Date: 6 November 2007, 5.00pm
Location: Whitehorse and Burke tram stop, Balwyn (I think)
Coffee: $? , watery, but mini-chocolate chip cookie nice
Reading: An Archaeology of Knowledge
Ann was away for a couple of weeks housesitting. And though we went to a few parties and I stayed over with her a couple of times it is nice having her back. We've been sharing lots of giggles and I appreciate her to no end.
What else? I've been gallery hopping with F, organising a colloquium, had two gals from the Writers Festival round for dinner, seen a few films, been out to a couple of dinners, am off to an evening of short plays with another Writers Festival gal on Friday and Ann has a medieval gig on Sunday with her ensemble. All I need is for the weather to get nice and (gasp) there possibly can't be anything to complain about! (Okay, I could complain about having to do dishes - which I seem to do all the time. And that I should be stressing out about my under-employment situation - 'cept its so nice not working much...).
I'm sitting in an ice-cream/chocolate cafe. It's the only thing open on this Melbourne Cup day. Had to take a tram and find an appropriate open place. It's cute, though over-airconditioned. I'm in a nook with ironwork garden furniture painted in either black or white. Purply-brown brick wall and light green-tiled floor. Pictures of an ice-cream sundae and truffles and there is a painted board clown holding a lollipop. A rubber plant in the window, a cabinet of boxed chocolates.
The truffle (caramel dark chocolate mudcake) wasn't anything special, nor was the coffee. I'll try to remember to come out when things are open...
Off to Foucault.
Location: Whitehorse and Burke tram stop, Balwyn (I think)
Coffee: $? , watery, but mini-chocolate chip cookie nice
Reading: An Archaeology of Knowledge
[Clearly I did not write down enough information about this cafe]
It has been a long time since I blogged. I've been caught up in study and for a couple of weeks was working as a dog walker and doing data entry, so had less leisure time. I'm more relaxed now as I've lost both jobs (really needed a car to get to the dogs and don't know about the casual data entry) and still am only getting one shift at the bookshop and my next writing isn't due to my supervisor until 24 Nov. My confirmation of candidature is on Dec. 11. That's what I'm working towards but I'm not feeling pressured for time at the moment.
Ann was away for a couple of weeks housesitting. And though we went to a few parties and I stayed over with her a couple of times it is nice having her back. We've been sharing lots of giggles and I appreciate her to no end.
What else? I've been gallery hopping with F, organising a colloquium, had two gals from the Writers Festival round for dinner, seen a few films, been out to a couple of dinners, am off to an evening of short plays with another Writers Festival gal on Friday and Ann has a medieval gig on Sunday with her ensemble. All I need is for the weather to get nice and (gasp) there possibly can't be anything to complain about! (Okay, I could complain about having to do dishes - which I seem to do all the time. And that I should be stressing out about my under-employment situation - 'cept its so nice not working much...).
I'm sitting in an ice-cream/chocolate cafe. It's the only thing open on this Melbourne Cup day. Had to take a tram and find an appropriate open place. It's cute, though over-airconditioned. I'm in a nook with ironwork garden furniture painted in either black or white. Purply-brown brick wall and light green-tiled floor. Pictures of an ice-cream sundae and truffles and there is a painted board clown holding a lollipop. A rubber plant in the window, a cabinet of boxed chocolates.
The truffle (caramel dark chocolate mudcake) wasn't anything special, nor was the coffee. I'll try to remember to come out when things are open...
Off to Foucault.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Cafe #27: Achillion Cakes Coffee Lounge
Date: Sunday, 9 September 2007, 4.00pm
Location: High Street, Preston
Coffee: $2.50 - latte, weak; Greek pastry - $3.00, beautiful (and not even chocolate!)
It is another sunny, beautiful day in Melbourne. I am in Preston and it is like small town NSW, except ethnic: one long main street of shops, mostly closed except for Asian $2.00 shops and Turkish and Greek and Asian bakeries and take-aways. I have yet to wander around a residential section of town, but I did darken the pathways of the large and empty markets, imagining the chaos, seafood and junk that would brighten the brick pavement on market days. After a couple of productive hours with Derrida this morning I went for a short walk with Ann in Fitzroy Gardens and then kept on my way up the train line to Preston to check it out. I felt with Derrida I was finally locating my problem - that in his attempt to overthrow the traditional phlosophical definition of truth as 'correspondence to reality' he tries to do away with reality rather than redefine truth reality or correspondence. Doing away with correspondence is the post-modernist project in general but this particular text of Derrida's (The First Session) attempts to get rid of the signified or imitated by first making it absent or nothing and then joining it with the signifier or copy so that they become two things that are no longer dfferent but the same, yet still represent or express difference. It doesn't make sense - how can you even work with nothing? At least Bataille's nothing has presence - it is presence without thinghood. Derrida's nothing doesn't have presence or thinghood so how can it exist as difference? Difference from what else that is not a thing or present? Because presence doesn't seem to exist either!
At the Lilith (Melbourne University feminist journal) fundraiser on Thursday evening I got talking to two American post-grads - male - about criticial theory and relativism and post-modernity. It was a culturally-awakening conversation. I felt condescended to. One guy
laughed at me at one point and questioned my application of complementarity after admitting that he wasn't familiar with the theory. When I talk with Australian males I do not feel condescended to, nor stupid, nor laughed at, nor disrespected. Often the guys know more than I do but they still honour my views and understanding within the stage of study I am at and I never feel like they think I am stupid or wrong. Such discussions can get fiery, but always enjoyable, respectful and informative. The experience with the American students made me feel glad I am here and not there.
Otherwise there is not much to report. Ann and I will be moving to Hawthorn in a few weeks and I want to book return flights to Canberra so I can pick up some more things (music!!, coffee plunger, more clothes) and figure out what to do with the rest of my stuff. I'm also hankering to visit friends.
The past couple of weeks have been productive in terms of thesis reading and writing. Now that house-hunting is over I feel much freer, though job-hunting and applying still usurps time.
Last weekend I interviewed at a bookshop in Brighton and said hi to the beach, but the bookshop owner has not offered me a job. Yesterday Ann and I saw 'Once', a nice but melancholy Irish movie about a songwriter who is approached by a chipper and stubborn Czechoslovakian girl. He find out she is a pinao player, singer and songwriter and they make an album together. The film is a feature-length music video for their album. The naturalism of the acting and cinematography is lovely and the songs quite good, if a bit sad.
Okay, I am off to explore the nonresidential parts of Preston before the sun goes down.
Addendum: I just found the Old Fire station Cafe and Gallery. There's a band with a female crooner and ladies knitting taking up most of the tables. A dull red-orange stone floor, vinyl chairs and laminex tables. A couch and a courtyard, brick walls, a big open space. Cool.
Location: High Street, Preston
Coffee: $2.50 - latte, weak; Greek pastry - $3.00, beautiful (and not even chocolate!)
It is another sunny, beautiful day in Melbourne. I am in Preston and it is like small town NSW, except ethnic: one long main street of shops, mostly closed except for Asian $2.00 shops and Turkish and Greek and Asian bakeries and take-aways. I have yet to wander around a residential section of town, but I did darken the pathways of the large and empty markets, imagining the chaos, seafood and junk that would brighten the brick pavement on market days. After a couple of productive hours with Derrida this morning I went for a short walk with Ann in Fitzroy Gardens and then kept on my way up the train line to Preston to check it out. I felt with Derrida I was finally locating my problem - that in his attempt to overthrow the traditional phlosophical definition of truth as 'correspondence to reality' he tries to do away with reality rather than redefine truth reality or correspondence. Doing away with correspondence is the post-modernist project in general but this particular text of Derrida's (The First Session) attempts to get rid of the signified or imitated by first making it absent or nothing and then joining it with the signifier or copy so that they become two things that are no longer dfferent but the same, yet still represent or express difference. It doesn't make sense - how can you even work with nothing? At least Bataille's nothing has presence - it is presence without thinghood. Derrida's nothing doesn't have presence or thinghood so how can it exist as difference? Difference from what else that is not a thing or present? Because presence doesn't seem to exist either!
At the Lilith (Melbourne University feminist journal) fundraiser on Thursday evening I got talking to two American post-grads - male - about criticial theory and relativism and post-modernity. It was a culturally-awakening conversation. I felt condescended to. One guy
laughed at me at one point and questioned my application of complementarity after admitting that he wasn't familiar with the theory. When I talk with Australian males I do not feel condescended to, nor stupid, nor laughed at, nor disrespected. Often the guys know more than I do but they still honour my views and understanding within the stage of study I am at and I never feel like they think I am stupid or wrong. Such discussions can get fiery, but always enjoyable, respectful and informative. The experience with the American students made me feel glad I am here and not there.
Otherwise there is not much to report. Ann and I will be moving to Hawthorn in a few weeks and I want to book return flights to Canberra so I can pick up some more things (music!!, coffee plunger, more clothes) and figure out what to do with the rest of my stuff. I'm also hankering to visit friends.
The past couple of weeks have been productive in terms of thesis reading and writing. Now that house-hunting is over I feel much freer, though job-hunting and applying still usurps time.
Last weekend I interviewed at a bookshop in Brighton and said hi to the beach, but the bookshop owner has not offered me a job. Yesterday Ann and I saw 'Once', a nice but melancholy Irish movie about a songwriter who is approached by a chipper and stubborn Czechoslovakian girl. He find out she is a pinao player, singer and songwriter and they make an album together. The film is a feature-length music video for their album. The naturalism of the acting and cinematography is lovely and the songs quite good, if a bit sad.
Okay, I am off to explore the nonresidential parts of Preston before the sun goes down.
Addendum: I just found the Old Fire station Cafe and Gallery. There's a band with a female crooner and ladies knitting taking up most of the tables. A dull red-orange stone floor, vinyl chairs and laminex tables. A couch and a courtyard, brick walls, a big open space. Cool.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Cafe #26: il Fornaio
Date: Saturday, 11 August 2007, 4.30pm
Location: 2 Acland Street, St Kilda
Coffee: $3.20 - latte, very average
Reading: Truth: A Guide
This is an industrial-style cafe/bakery, with grey stone floors, silver stage lights hanging from exposed black piping and grey cement brick walls, although there is purple inch-thick attached walling behind the bar on one side of the upper level and shelves and a fridge on the other. Up a wide set of four wooden plank steps is the pastry counter, fronting a steel-screen backdrop from which wicker baskets of bread hang (supported by a shelf). Behind that I can see a sous-chef working and in front the 'il Fornaio' hangs dramatically in large, long matte-brass lettering. On the lower level there are grey plastic chairs and wooden tables, as well as low leopard-print benches on either side of the stairs. There is pounding industrial trance music in the background (not that I really know what industrial trance is but I think it must be this). The cafe is loud with vibrating voice waves, which is good for reading because no words are distinguishable and thus distracting.
I wanted the last little chocolate tart but someone bought it out from under me.
It has been a beautiful warm morning. I was out late at a party last night. It began as a work party on the Clayton campus, and after drinking wine and beer courtesy of the bookshop the leftover party-goers were locked out of the venue at 10.30. Several of us made our way to S's house - which turned out to be a real treat. He lives with an older man in an art deco pink-brick house with an enormous second-level balcony with a view, two enormous bathrooms (one a green and pink marble Barbie dream bathroom), a bar and generally full of stuff - strange instruments and statues of camels, worn oriental carpets and other assorted cool and kitsch clutter. It was a fun place to be in and we drank and danced and ogled the house. I went home with a fellow workmate to her house in Balaclava, right next to Glick's Bakery.
In the morning I bought latkes and perogies (YAY!) from a Polish deli and ate a sesame bagel and a slice of poppyseed cake at a bakery, then took a long tram ride home. After napping and showering and making latkes with a side of sliced soft-boiled egg and avacado for A and, I decided to say hello to the beach that I didn't have time to greet when I was in Balaclava. I walked to Smith St, picked up a few cans of Amy's refried black beans from Soul Foods, then caught the tram to St. Kilda. I meant to go t Port Melbourne but I didn't quite know when to get off.
By the time I arrived at the beach around 3.30pm it was no longer warm and a bit windy so I only walked the beach for a bit and then found this cafe. I may walk a bit more along the tram line and then hop on when I'm cold. I expect to have a quiet night at home, hopefully finish this book about truth and maybe work on some Heidegger. I am still having trouble concentrating and still feel very melancholy a lot of the time. I don't feel like me. The party last night was a good distraction. I need more parties!
A and I are having one next weekend but we have little idea of who will come as only several of
A's friends have RSVP'd.
Alright, I'm off.
Location: 2 Acland Street, St Kilda
Coffee: $3.20 - latte, very average
Reading: Truth: A Guide
This is an industrial-style cafe/bakery, with grey stone floors, silver stage lights hanging from exposed black piping and grey cement brick walls, although there is purple inch-thick attached walling behind the bar on one side of the upper level and shelves and a fridge on the other. Up a wide set of four wooden plank steps is the pastry counter, fronting a steel-screen backdrop from which wicker baskets of bread hang (supported by a shelf). Behind that I can see a sous-chef working and in front the 'il Fornaio' hangs dramatically in large, long matte-brass lettering. On the lower level there are grey plastic chairs and wooden tables, as well as low leopard-print benches on either side of the stairs. There is pounding industrial trance music in the background (not that I really know what industrial trance is but I think it must be this). The cafe is loud with vibrating voice waves, which is good for reading because no words are distinguishable and thus distracting.
I wanted the last little chocolate tart but someone bought it out from under me.
It has been a beautiful warm morning. I was out late at a party last night. It began as a work party on the Clayton campus, and after drinking wine and beer courtesy of the bookshop the leftover party-goers were locked out of the venue at 10.30. Several of us made our way to S's house - which turned out to be a real treat. He lives with an older man in an art deco pink-brick house with an enormous second-level balcony with a view, two enormous bathrooms (one a green and pink marble Barbie dream bathroom), a bar and generally full of stuff - strange instruments and statues of camels, worn oriental carpets and other assorted cool and kitsch clutter. It was a fun place to be in and we drank and danced and ogled the house. I went home with a fellow workmate to her house in Balaclava, right next to Glick's Bakery.
In the morning I bought latkes and perogies (YAY!) from a Polish deli and ate a sesame bagel and a slice of poppyseed cake at a bakery, then took a long tram ride home. After napping and showering and making latkes with a side of sliced soft-boiled egg and avacado for A and, I decided to say hello to the beach that I didn't have time to greet when I was in Balaclava. I walked to Smith St, picked up a few cans of Amy's refried black beans from Soul Foods, then caught the tram to St. Kilda. I meant to go t Port Melbourne but I didn't quite know when to get off.
By the time I arrived at the beach around 3.30pm it was no longer warm and a bit windy so I only walked the beach for a bit and then found this cafe. I may walk a bit more along the tram line and then hop on when I'm cold. I expect to have a quiet night at home, hopefully finish this book about truth and maybe work on some Heidegger. I am still having trouble concentrating and still feel very melancholy a lot of the time. I don't feel like me. The party last night was a good distraction. I need more parties!
A and I are having one next weekend but we have little idea of who will come as only several of
A's friends have RSVP'd.
Alright, I'm off.
Cafe #25: Upper Crust Bread Shop
Date: Monday, 06 August 2007
Location: 206 Smith Street
Coffee: latte - $2.50, okay
It has been a while since I last wrote. I have been working, studying and being cold. I only have five hours of work this week, which feels like freedom, except isn't. I will have to find another job as freedom requires paying one's rent.
The past couple of weeks have been mixed. I went to see Ian McKellan in The Seagull wth A, S and F. It was lovely to be at the theatre and see Sir Ian, but the play was only okay and his part wasn't large. I didn't get a ticket to King Lear, which I will forever regret.
My thesis began to come together this past week as well. I will look at complementarity as a definition of postmodernism and play Badiou (ethics), Barthes (literature) and Derrida (Law and Literature) off each other, all through Copenhagen, showing different types of complementarities between and wthin the texts. I may organise the thesis around metaphorical/theoretical common concepts such as void, transgression, supplement, etc, and add some Bataille and Sartre in the mix as well. I feel much more settled having a plan and like I have more time to do paid work since I've done most of the reading already. Of course I will read these books again and again but the initial familiarity is there.
This week has been difficult because I found out my rent is going up in October. I have to move. If things work out A will move with me, but 'if' is the key problematic. I need to find a new job (this was the first week I was offered only one shift). And I've found out A has a new girlfriend and peace of mind, which despite my pleasure for him is hard for me. After a few phone conversations with S and my dad and my mom last night I'm feeling much better an am able to focus on study today.
Just earlier I had a meeting with a lovely young woman interested in doing some publicity work for lip as part of her university course, so hopefully that'll get lip some money for the next issue.
I am sitting outside today, which is lovely. Hopefully the worst of the winter is behind us and the days will remain edged with warmth.
My tabletop is painted with a red-headed girl in a blue bikini with white flowers, laying on a red, white and blue striped towel on the beach with water, mountains and a sailing ship behind her.
Location: 206 Smith Street
Coffee: latte - $2.50, okay
It has been a while since I last wrote. I have been working, studying and being cold. I only have five hours of work this week, which feels like freedom, except isn't. I will have to find another job as freedom requires paying one's rent.
The past couple of weeks have been mixed. I went to see Ian McKellan in The Seagull wth A, S and F. It was lovely to be at the theatre and see Sir Ian, but the play was only okay and his part wasn't large. I didn't get a ticket to King Lear, which I will forever regret.
My thesis began to come together this past week as well. I will look at complementarity as a definition of postmodernism and play Badiou (ethics), Barthes (literature) and Derrida (Law and Literature) off each other, all through Copenhagen, showing different types of complementarities between and wthin the texts. I may organise the thesis around metaphorical/theoretical common concepts such as void, transgression, supplement, etc, and add some Bataille and Sartre in the mix as well. I feel much more settled having a plan and like I have more time to do paid work since I've done most of the reading already. Of course I will read these books again and again but the initial familiarity is there.
This week has been difficult because I found out my rent is going up in October. I have to move. If things work out A will move with me, but 'if' is the key problematic. I need to find a new job (this was the first week I was offered only one shift). And I've found out A has a new girlfriend and peace of mind, which despite my pleasure for him is hard for me. After a few phone conversations with S and my dad and my mom last night I'm feeling much better an am able to focus on study today.
Just earlier I had a meeting with a lovely young woman interested in doing some publicity work for lip as part of her university course, so hopefully that'll get lip some money for the next issue.
I am sitting outside today, which is lovely. Hopefully the worst of the winter is behind us and the days will remain edged with warmth.
My tabletop is painted with a red-headed girl in a blue bikini with white flowers, laying on a red, white and blue striped towel on the beach with water, mountains and a sailing ship behind her.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Cafe #24: Issus Cafe Bar
Date: Friday, 13 July 2007, 5.20pmLocation: 8 Centre Place, CBD
Coffee: latte, good
Reading: The Accursed Share
It has been on and off raining again today. I feel I should learn to enjoy rain, or at least not dislike it so much. After all it is only water. Yet I don't like having spotty spectacles and a wet hemline and worrying whether the books in my bag will get water-warped. Stepping over puddles. I wish it would stop raining, at least during the day. I do like the sound of the rain on our tin roof, which has still a comforting ring to it.
The cafes across the lane are closed up and the loud soul music has thankfully stopped. Apparently this evening music is an attraction of this particular laneway, but of course I was reading (Bataille) and didn't welcome it.
Issus is small, cute and dark, like the other cafes on these central lanes. Weathered granite floor and wooden tables, a row of square cushions and tables outside the open front, a gilded mirror written with menu and a red-jacketed waitress with a nice smile. I am distracted by all the people walking to the train or to occasions from work or shopping, hoping that I might see someone I know. I've had a quiet day and am planning on a quiet night - more reading, email, writing, maybe a video. Cook a big green curry.
Reading Bataille gives me more to work with on the whole French theory thing: absence, void, transgression. For Bataille, experiencing the freedom of being a subject (labour makes us objects) that comes from intense emotion such as laughter or pain is the experience of NOTHING. The object dissolves; the subject is a void; murder is the transgression of an object demanding subjecthood. It doesn't make much experiential sense to me but is a pretty mythology of modernism.
I had my first afternoon of work at the Caulfield campus bookshop. It felt better, probably because only five hours rather than 8 1/2. Next week is second semester rush. Can't wait to see if it is as chaotic as everyone makes out. Looking forward to the extra money the extra hours will bring. But not to waking up at 7am three days next week. Am practicing going to bed by 1am and setting alarm for 8.00am instead of ten. I was out of bed by 9.30 this morning. Progress!
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