Date: Tuesday, 7 July 2007, 2.30pm
Location: Hardware Lane, near Bourke St.
Coffee: $3.00 - latte, beautiful (fairtrade) gluten-free foods available
Reading: The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism
When I sat down outside at this organic, vegan-y cafe the sun was out. The sky is cloudless-Canberra-blue, which is a pleasure and a joy after all the rain Melbourne's been gardens have been enjoying. However, now that the sun has moved from enlightening this part of the city it is chilly, a cold breeze bothering my neck. Still, it is a relief to have warmer weather.
I've been to the markets with E, relaxing and welcome as usual. Last weekend was an all-nighter with the CCLS department students and friends to farewell C. It involved three bars, the first loud and expensive and mainstream, the second quiet and baroque with $2.50 beers and friendly staff, the third a proper pub complete with young male rock band upstairs and a downstairs full of lounging drunk young people. Five of us ended up at Cafe L'Incontro on Swanston Street, drinking coffee until the first morning trains were due to depart Flinders Street Station around 5.30. Clearly I didn't have a very productive day on Saturday, though I forced myself to stay awake and read. On Sunday I wrote against Derrida, so I felt better.
Hardware Lane is cute - brick-streeted laneway lined with fancy restaurants, though the Bourke Street end is home to cafes rather than restaurants. Invita isn't the most charming cafe, what with its plastic rather than wicker chairs and contemporary look, but it did have the fairtrade coffee, and I couldn't aesthetically argue myself out of the ethics of that. I was rewarded for my moral fortitude by a beautiful cup of coffee.
Anyway, back to Weber.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Cafe #22: Moo Wine Bar
Date: 24 June 2007, 5.30pm
Location: Mooroolbark (shopping centre)
Coffee: $? - mocha, okay
Reading: Being and Time
Mooroolbark is the penultimate stop on the Lilydale line. The weekly tickets Connex has been giving me in place of the yearly ticket I lost have been zone one and two tickets, so I thought I should explore zone two - go to the end of a line - while I have a ticket to do so freely. On A's recommendation I chose Lilydale, as it is in the Dandenong ranges. Despite its hilly setting, it isn't an inspiring town. Strip-type shopping complexes and not very nice houses. I walked around a bit in the suburbs, skirting the sporting oval on which was being played a game of intertown football, then bought a couple potato cakes at the fish and chip shop, where I had a nice chat about my studies, outdoor toilets and other Melbourne-related trifles with a North Fitzroy couple on their way back from holiday in Marysville. When they said goodbye, off to pick up their boarding dog, I wandered back to the station and took the train back one stop. Mooroolbark is a bit nicer than Lilydale. The shops are slightly more upmarket - antiques and jewellery/arty knick-knacks - and the neighbourhood looks a lot like Canberra, with different trees. I didn't notice any fancy houses.
The wine bar is playing irritating music - new Michael Jackson, I think - and has dark wood veneer tables with cool black and cream chairs that loook a bit like a thigh-press machine: the back of the chair is a roll attached to the seat by two curling back steel arms.
Last night was a good night. I accompanied E to the National Institute of Circus Arts' second year BA student show. It was very sexy, with performers working on tissu (long ribbons hanging from the beams), rings (also swinging from the beam), trapeze and swing, tightrope and ropes (siimilar to tissu). There was a lousy clown cum magician; jugglers, including a body juggler; a trick bicycle and girls revolving in metal wheels; and a duo of boys who swung and threw weights on long strings around. Also tumblers. Aside from the fun of all the arial tricks, the music composed for the show was outstanding, giving it such a mysterious fun (Cirque de Soleilish) atmosphere, with undercurrents of primitiveness and Easternality. I LOVED the music - great beats, sound effects, ambience and sexiness - to accompany the rippling muscles of boys too young for me to be admiring. After the circus E and I went drinking and dancing. There was a great 7-piece funk band, Cold Sweat, playing at The Laundry on Johnston Street and I had a bit of a boogy.
The week ahead sees more Heidegger, Derrida and Weber. I need to get a significant amount of work done. Good luck to me!
Location: Mooroolbark (shopping centre)
Coffee: $? - mocha, okay
Reading: Being and Time
Mooroolbark is the penultimate stop on the Lilydale line. The weekly tickets Connex has been giving me in place of the yearly ticket I lost have been zone one and two tickets, so I thought I should explore zone two - go to the end of a line - while I have a ticket to do so freely. On A's recommendation I chose Lilydale, as it is in the Dandenong ranges. Despite its hilly setting, it isn't an inspiring town. Strip-type shopping complexes and not very nice houses. I walked around a bit in the suburbs, skirting the sporting oval on which was being played a game of intertown football, then bought a couple potato cakes at the fish and chip shop, where I had a nice chat about my studies, outdoor toilets and other Melbourne-related trifles with a North Fitzroy couple on their way back from holiday in Marysville. When they said goodbye, off to pick up their boarding dog, I wandered back to the station and took the train back one stop. Mooroolbark is a bit nicer than Lilydale. The shops are slightly more upmarket - antiques and jewellery/arty knick-knacks - and the neighbourhood looks a lot like Canberra, with different trees. I didn't notice any fancy houses.
The wine bar is playing irritating music - new Michael Jackson, I think - and has dark wood veneer tables with cool black and cream chairs that loook a bit like a thigh-press machine: the back of the chair is a roll attached to the seat by two curling back steel arms.
Last night was a good night. I accompanied E to the National Institute of Circus Arts' second year BA student show. It was very sexy, with performers working on tissu (long ribbons hanging from the beams), rings (also swinging from the beam), trapeze and swing, tightrope and ropes (siimilar to tissu). There was a lousy clown cum magician; jugglers, including a body juggler; a trick bicycle and girls revolving in metal wheels; and a duo of boys who swung and threw weights on long strings around. Also tumblers. Aside from the fun of all the arial tricks, the music composed for the show was outstanding, giving it such a mysterious fun (Cirque de Soleilish) atmosphere, with undercurrents of primitiveness and Easternality. I LOVED the music - great beats, sound effects, ambience and sexiness - to accompany the rippling muscles of boys too young for me to be admiring. After the circus E and I went drinking and dancing. There was a great 7-piece funk band, Cold Sweat, playing at The Laundry on Johnston Street and I had a bit of a boogy.
The week ahead sees more Heidegger, Derrida and Weber. I need to get a significant amount of work done. Good luck to me!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Cafe #21: Suede
Date: 16 June 2007, 4.50pm
Location: Smith Street, near Peel Street, Fitzroy
Coffee: $3.00 - latte, okay
This is a red and bass bar, too dark to read comfortably and too boosted bass-y to read concentratedly. Nor is the coffee good. Nonetheless it is probably a good place for an intimate (alcoholic) drink, offering brown and red couches and cushions, a gold and red baroque-patterned bar, green wallpaper with a silver wheatish motif on a far wall and big, square navy-blue fabric lampshades overhead with a fruit and leaf design. There is muted red lighting behind the bar created with red bulbs shaded by plastic squares with convex and concave circles in the centre. There is an upstairs and palms in the windows, exposed brick walls, gilt mirrors, and bamboo-blinded nooks hiding soft lighting.
I have been sleeping in too long on these cold winter Melbourne days. Today, despite setting my alarm for 10.00am, I did not manage to roll myself out of bed until 12.30. I had a quick shower and rushed off to the Saturday coffee group. After people wandered off from the Lygon Street Cafe I walked to Smith Street in search of an op-shop bedsheet. The cheap op-shop was closed, the Salvo's didn't seem to have a Queen-sized sheet, but I got very lucky and found a shop selling light blue brushed cotton sheet sets (fitted, flat and two pillow cases) for $15.00! So I happily bought those instead. I shall be off home in a moment to change and wash sheets.
I spent several hours yesterday reading one of my supervisor's books. It is a survey cultural theory text and as such is immanently readable. It was lovely to just read - not to have to re- and re-read in order to understand, not to have to take extensive notes to retain, not to have to read in small chunks of time in order to preserve concentration and interest. I hope I have more such easier texts to engage with throughout my study.
Ann and I went to see 'It's Not Your Day' last night at La Mama Theatre on Faraday Street. It was alright, especially for $10.00. The play was by a young playwright, and though a bit cliched and mainstream, it offered some funny moments and enjoyable acting by a few of the actors, including a particularly lively performance of a steely female wit. I should go to the (cheap) theatre more often...
Location: Smith Street, near Peel Street, Fitzroy
Coffee: $3.00 - latte, okay
This is a red and bass bar, too dark to read comfortably and too boosted bass-y to read concentratedly. Nor is the coffee good. Nonetheless it is probably a good place for an intimate (alcoholic) drink, offering brown and red couches and cushions, a gold and red baroque-patterned bar, green wallpaper with a silver wheatish motif on a far wall and big, square navy-blue fabric lampshades overhead with a fruit and leaf design. There is muted red lighting behind the bar created with red bulbs shaded by plastic squares with convex and concave circles in the centre. There is an upstairs and palms in the windows, exposed brick walls, gilt mirrors, and bamboo-blinded nooks hiding soft lighting.
I have been sleeping in too long on these cold winter Melbourne days. Today, despite setting my alarm for 10.00am, I did not manage to roll myself out of bed until 12.30. I had a quick shower and rushed off to the Saturday coffee group. After people wandered off from the Lygon Street Cafe I walked to Smith Street in search of an op-shop bedsheet. The cheap op-shop was closed, the Salvo's didn't seem to have a Queen-sized sheet, but I got very lucky and found a shop selling light blue brushed cotton sheet sets (fitted, flat and two pillow cases) for $15.00! So I happily bought those instead. I shall be off home in a moment to change and wash sheets.
I spent several hours yesterday reading one of my supervisor's books. It is a survey cultural theory text and as such is immanently readable. It was lovely to just read - not to have to re- and re-read in order to understand, not to have to take extensive notes to retain, not to have to read in small chunks of time in order to preserve concentration and interest. I hope I have more such easier texts to engage with throughout my study.
Ann and I went to see 'It's Not Your Day' last night at La Mama Theatre on Faraday Street. It was alright, especially for $10.00. The play was by a young playwright, and though a bit cliched and mainstream, it offered some funny moments and enjoyable acting by a few of the actors, including a particularly lively performance of a steely female wit. I should go to the (cheap) theatre more often...
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Cafe #20: Melissa Cake Shop
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.
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.
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.
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