How I Spent My Winter Vacation

(Written last night, posted tonight)

Today was an accursed day. I woke this morning, stretched, and thumped impatiently at my alarm clock, which was set to the "alarm" setting rather than the "radio" setting. Instead of being lulled awake to the swooning violins of the ABC classical FM station, a hammer-buzz was hollering at me, "Your holidays are over! Back to work, my friend!"

Vaguely, perhaps, I recalled the death, the night before, of the television I have had for 10 years. My father recently bought a new television, and gave me his old one; I brought it back from Wollongong, and set it up in my loungeroom. Later that night I moved the old trusty into my bedroom, and plugged it in, to discover it had turned into a paperweight. Nothing; a dead click and not even a pilot light. The timing was mysterious: it had died at the exact moment I got a new one.

Little did I know, as I woke and mused on these things, that today was to be a day of technodeath. When I arrived at work my ipod refused to work. Its battery had been depleted while I was away; I plugged it in, got a momentary battery charging screen, then - nothing. It had spontaneously metamorphized from a personal jukebox to a lifeless metal box which has stubbornly refused to do anything since. A friend's ipod died a while back, and their's, at least, made a whirring, sick noise that steadily got worse. Give me something to work with, something to fiddle with, don't just be bafflingly dead...

So I'll have to get a new one. It's still in warranty, but the shiny new one that comes back to me will be without its songs. Apple says it is my duty to back them up...

WHO HAS 20 GIGABYTES WITH WHICH TO BACK UP AN IPOD???

Well, I'm sure many people do, but I'm not one of them. Both the computer here and the one at work are circa 1998, and even iTunes stretches these old things. The thought of reloading all my CDs fills me with about as much excitement as going back to work does.

All this reminds me of a story, though, which I must get around to telling sometime soon. It is an inspiring story of an underdog, a little engine that could - and did - and in the process obtained a soul. It's the story of the Panasonic RX-DS650, coming soon if I get around to it...

Highlights from my winter vacation:

My winter vacation had as its manifesto the re-awakening of my creative sensibilities - I thought I could switch on that part of my mind, if I had time, and I made a deliberate effort to do so. Here are the highlights:

* Much mocked effort to grow a beard. Now, I don't particularly like facial hair, nor have I ever thought I would look particularly dashing with a beard, but there comes a point in every man's life, I'd guess, where he thinks, "Fuck it. I should give it a shot."

Well, I gave it a shot, and the results were not pretty. My beard covered an elongated vertical blob of skin, running from just beneath my chin to halfway down my neck. At its zenith it resembled a strange hairy goiter. Needless to say, it is now gone, and I doubt it shall ever be seen again.

* Trip to the Southern Highlands with Tahlia to look at expensive bookshops. The towns were suitably wintery; I paid the most I've ever paid for a book, because it seemed underpriced and a reasonably important work. Finding out that it was not only underpriced, but that the author had attempted to destroy all the copies of this (Auckland 1856) first edition was a lovely, unexpected suprise.

* Redesigning my website, but that's been covered already.

* My one attempt to write seemed to go well: I made a connection that seemed important. Maybe that's confusing to some out there, though I know some of the writers will understand. For me, "having an idea" is not the important part. More important is when I ask "How do these two ideas connect?" and get an answer that seems to make sense, and be interesting. In the transition from the first idea to the second is the story, the feel, everything that's difficult. When I'm in creative mode, I'm constantly looking for these connections in everything - minor moments that happen on a walk, for instance. Connections are important.

* Reading books upstairs in the wintery attic bedroom at my father's, overlooking the ocean. The wind sometimes blowing so hard that the entire room shook and rattled. So nice to be able to read for long stretches in a nice room.

Movies seen and books read:

* The War of The Worlds - Tom Cruise dodges electricity bolts for three hours. Visually interesting in a fancypants sort of way; thoroughly unengaging story. Instantly forgettable.
* Closer - I really liked this. Mike Nichols directed The Graduate, one of my all-time favourite films, although I've never much loved anything else he's done. This one got to me - it pissed me off and frustrated me and engaged me. Worth a look.
* Life and Death in Eden - Pitcairn Island and the Bounty Mutineers, by Trevor Lumis - It was hard not to read this without reading it in the context of the recent sexual abuse cases. It's the story of Pitcairn Island, post-Bounty. Such a strange place, and the fragmentary history that can be weaved together from limited historical records leaves so many questions about human nature.
* Platform, by Michel Houellebecq. Atomised, by this author, I had thought somewhat brilliant, if occasionally repugnant. This one just seemed pointless and kind of gross - the story of a boring man who meets a nymphomaniac supergoddess and founds a chain of sex-tourist resorts with her, to tragic consequences. I'm not joking, that's the plot.

* Coming back from Austinmer and getting a letter from Natasha. An actual letter, on paper. Thanks, Tash, if you're reading this; I will respond in kind sometime soon.

Oh, how I wish my holidays could have gone on another week! I would have liked to paint a wall in my apartment, or maybe make a few facetious brushstrokes on my never-to-be-completed mural. I would have liked to have walked on the beach (it was too cold); to paint a picture, play my gi-tar. Gotten drunk. I think I might have really started writing, then. Alas, it is back to the land of annoying customers and the Reverse Midas Techno-touch I seem to have developed. Still, this blog entry has been written with more passion and actual enjoyment than I've summoned up for writing in a while, so that's probably a good sign.

It is a sort of conscious derangement, this state I seek. It's not entirely pretty, but it would be an interesting change.

(Addendum - the next day - when I got home from work today I picked up my ipod, and without hope tried again to reset it. It fluttered into life with a battery depleted logo. I tenderly carried it to the charger, praying that the electricity might somehow defibrilate it, like I was that House guy. It worked! My ipod is back, like Lazarus! Hooray. Today was a better day...)

posted by Nicholas @ 10:30 PM