Saturday, 18 April 2015

P is for Paris —a letter of recommendation


The Rock

Victoria 3922
Australia


18 April 2015

Anyone & Everyone
The Entire World


To Whom It May Concern:

It is my great pleasure to recommend Paris to you. Apropos her character, I unreservedly and wholeheartedly vouch for her vibrant personality, savoir faire and impeccable taste.

Paris and I first met thirty-three years ago and I have admired her ever since. Despite the fact that some 17,000 kilometres /10,500 miles separates us, I have made the 23-hour flight on several occasions to rendezvous and renew our friendship. Each time my admiration for her has grown. For grace and charm, Paris is, for me, the nonpareil. Her style is at once classical and avant-garde. She is as chic as she is eclectic.

She is able to move seamlessly between cliques that would confound others, providing haute couture and fine cuisine, or prĂȘt-Ă -porter and a baguette. Paris will not disappoint.

I trust Paris implicitly and recommend her without reservation.

Sincerely,
Wendy

Song of the Day: Can't go past the inimitable Miles Davis,

Nuit Sur Les Champs-Elysee (Take 2), 1958.



Question of the Day: Where in the world would you recommend?

Friday, 17 April 2015

O is for Overthinkers — a resignation letter

Notice to all members


I wish to give advance notice that after what seems like a lifetime in the role, I intend to stand down from my position as President of the Universal Society of Overthinkers (USO). 

Please don't imagine that I no longer care about you all or that I've lost faith in the organisation. And I wouldn't want to give anyone the idea that I'm a quitter, or that I'm just shitty because she-who-I will-not-name keeps badmouthing me to anyone who'll listen. And while it's true that I did crack a bit of a sad because I spent hours organising that last event and then hardly anyone came, I'd hate any of you to think I'm not thankful for the support of those who did come along. Nor would I want to give the impression that I'm not grateful for all the opportunities this role has afforded me over the years. Plus it would break my heart if anyone took this as a slur on the other committee members, because I really am indebted to them for all they've done...

You know what? Forget what I said. 
See you at the AGM.
Your President.



Song of the Day:  Don't Think Twice It's All Right, classic 1962 Bob Dylan.



Question of the Day:  Are you a paid-up member of the Universal Society of Overthinkers? A committee member? President? Or do you belong to some other society?

 


N is for Ned Kelly — a call to arms letter

Ned me old mate,
I know you’ve been dead a dog’s age, but I'll give you the drum. It's time you gathered up all your ghostly guts and took a bit of action. Fair dinkum, Ned, there’s blokes on every bloody street in Melbourne walking about trying to impersonate you. It’s doing me head in.

Remember how you once called coppers "a parcel of big ugly fat-necked wombat headed big bellied magpielegged narrow hipped splaw-footed sons of Irish Bailiffs or englishlandlords", well, Ned, some of these wankers fit that bill too. Some are worse.

It's been 45 years since the fat-lipped prancing pommy bastard played you in that shithouse movie, so you've had a pretty quiet run with deadset dickheads mucking around with your legacy. But this new lot, Ned, they call 'em hipsters. They’re a pack of big-bearded wannabes and you’re the only one can stop ‘em .

Believe me, Ned, your badass image is getting crapped on from a great height by these drongos. Come back and sort 'em out mate. I'll help.
Your mate,
Joe
Ned Kelly, sketched as he was leaving Benalla. David Syme and Co, Melbourne, 1880,  held at State Library of Victoria.
.A couple of Ned Kelly wannabes hanging out on Tumblr

Song of the Day: The Wild Colonial Boy as sung by that prancy pommy bastard Mick Jagger, in the shithouse 1970 movie Ned Kelly.


 

Question of the Day:  Hipster beards: Why?

 


Wednesday, 15 April 2015

M is for Memo to Me


MEMO

To: Me

From: Me

Date: 15 April 2015

Subject: Self love


This memo serves as written notification that it’s absolutely totally utterly completely wholly OK to cut yourself some slack from time to time. Repeatedly beating yourself up about every little thing should stop immediately. It’s silly. It’s pointless. It achieves nothing. Please cease and desist before you self-destruct
Appropriate alternative action could be to indulge in:
1.     a bit of bad mum dancing
2.     attempted middle-aged twerking
3.     singing along at peak volume with a song such as the sample below
4.     random acts of huggingness
5.     having a crack at taking less tragic selfies than the one above

Please note that all above substitute actions are also silly, pointless and achieve nothing but will not cause you to self-destruct.

Song of the Day: The awesomely beautiful and talented Betty Who —who, despite having lived in New York for more than five years, still has pure Aussie vowels—Love love love this girl. I dare you not to at least toe-tap along with Somebody Loves You. (2014)



Question of the Day: What's your current go-to sing-along song?

Tuesday, 14 April 2015

L is for Lady Macbeth — a fan letter

Dearest Lady Macbeth
I just want to tell you that I think you've copped a really bad rap over the years. Countless teachers have painted you as the archetypal evil woman: cold, scheming, lustful for status but ultimately weak-minded and pathetic. They represent you as the villain of the piece, the pushy wife, the corrupter of moral order. Well, I think that's a load of bollocks.

Lady Mac, while it would be stretching things to call you a hero, I love that you were prepared to bust out of the role of subjugated wife and mother, to damn obedience to hell, and go for it, to grab for that chalice with both hands. You did your best to gee-up your husband to pursue his aims, but he couldn't follow through. Frankly, he was a bit of a dick. He was totally sucked in by the witches' prophetic riddle and happy to let others do his dirty work for him. What a loser.  He would have made a lousy king, but you, you would have totally rocked it as queen.

It really sucks that so few people end up on Team Lady Mac, but I just had to let you know there's at least one of us out here flying your flag.
Sincerely,
Your biggest fan.


Song of the Day: Hands Clean, Alanis Morissette (2002)



Question of the Day: How do you see Lady Macbeth?



Monday, 13 April 2015

K is for Korea — a letter from an adoptive mum





During April, I’m taking part in the A-Z Blogging Challenge (along with 1700 plus others that you can check out here). And I decided that my theme would be letters of various types—inspired by the letters of the alphabet. So we’re almost halfway through… but so far, typically, only one post has been a topic from the advance plan I made.
Today was meant to be King… but Korea (South) looms just too importantly for me to overlook her…

Oh magical bewildering Korea,

Finding a way to define my relationship with my own country is perplexing and complicated; often my views and words become tangled. Attempting to explain how I feel about you is even more troublesome. Please forgive me if I stumble a little.

Australia runs through my veins. The harshness of our light, the grey that tints our foliage, the impossibly awkward twang of our vowels and the blunt humour we embrace: they combine for me as a rich understanding of identity.  Five generations of my family have been born within Australia’s brief white timeline. I know her stories, her history, her art, her people. We are intimates. I can disparage and joke about her as mates do and she is not offended.   

Korea, you are something altogether different. You confuse me. You are both a venerated elder and a techno-crazy teen. You are at the same time intensely private and wildly extroverted. You are the Land of the Morning Calm and the dance party that lasts all night. 
But Korea, to me you are yet much more. You have entrusted me with two of your children. You allow me the immeasurable privilege of being their mother. As I took them away to grow up as Australians, you watched serenely, even though centuries of ancestors link their souls to yours.

Once, as I sat nervously strapped into an airline seat, my nose buried in the warmth of my baby son’s black hair, I watched the mountains of Seoul rush away beneath us and I made you a promise. I will always cherish you; just as I treasure the gifts you have given me. I do not speak in your tongue. I know little of your story, but I am joined at the heart to your people, so you are forever my other homeland.

Always yours,    
Wendy
          
All photos are mine... the babies above were all awaiting adoption last time we visited.

 

Song of the Day: something to lighten the mood, a bit of K-pop craziness with the very latest from Girls Generation: Catch Me If You Can (2015)


 

Question of the Day: What is your relationship with place?