Thursday, November 26, 2009

boxing daze

There is movement all around me. Movement, perennial movement. I'm dreaming of boxes these days. There is movement at work, movement with me, movement with my friends. Last week I helped a friend move into a small pad up in some tucked away pocket in the north shore. Another close friend is sniffing around for another living abode and I'd delivered boxes to her from my workplace two weeks ago. It could be something in the stars. These two women are Scorpios (with a capital 's') whose birthdays are very close.
I'm looking at the prospect of buying a place. It will make me a '1st home buyer'. It's difficult to overlook the allure of "buying" when the bank is offering me the world in dollar-value, given that I have some savings, and plus I've received a recent bump-up in pay. I'm thinking of different suburbs all the time. Sometimes Stanmore, then Kensington or Maroubra, but Eastlakes is good value too.

So that's more boxes, moving moving moving.

And at work, as I gaze over the supple, simmering abode of a much-loved performing arts library, where the late spring afternoon slowly draws amber rays of sun through the windows to the living library floor where patrons have left for the day, I know only too well that in a little more than a week's time the place will be carnage. There'll be butchers knives and saws and all kinds of walls will be knocked down, all to be built up again in different positions, like some perverse anxiety-dream game of Twister. Architectural contortionism.

Meanwhile, when the dust settles some 6 weeks away and all is looking like nothing ever happened, 30 square metres or so of Libraryland realestate will have been conquered over.

This is beyond my hands, except to origami archive boxes and store and pack and store and pack. Next week, with the help of a strong bunch of actor & production boys, we'll rip in hard and we'll get the job done. It's a major task to have this done in five days, to clear the space from either end of the library and to shift the large furniture - including a compactus - and all of their contents.

I feel weighed down. I'm looking forward to next Friday. After work I jump on a plane to Hobart for a few days to breathe in some fresh Tasmanian air, then fly back home to two weeks of holiday leave.

By then I won't be dreaming of work or the boxes, but I'll be dreaming of all the other things that sit heavily on my broadening shoulders.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Songwriters Day @ Darling Harbour


Saturday 21 November was Songwriters Day at Darling Harbour, Sydney. The event is hosted annually by the Darling Harbour Authority for Australian Music Week, and organised and co-hosted by the SSA, the Songwriting Society of Australia. Of this purely volunteer organisation, it is Ken Stewart of the band Urban Guerillas who does the lion's share of the organising and groundwork, so that's a terrific effort Ken!

There's been a heatwave over Sydney during the past three days, and even though temperatures didn't reach quite as high as anticipated on Saturday, it was nonetheless pretty damn hot. It was clammy and humid with no refreshing breeze, but thankfully the event was on the Saturday rather than on the Sunday as the Sunday had become very hot indeed. People came and performed and put on a good show despite the heat, and the sound quality was good, so all were happy with that.

This is Pete Scully, president of the Society. He does good work liaising with other songwriting bodies and is always keen to find the best available avenues for songwriters to get their music heard and out there. I think he's the main contact for Radio Skidrow.

There were two active stages, the Harbourside Amphitheatre for acoustic solos & duos, and the Palm Grove stage for bands. I'd booked to accompany ZaraMeow but ended up doing a set myself as the small stage was slightly ahead of time. And later I played rock'n'roll bass with the Velvet Road. So I can't say I wasn't musically satiated by the end of it all.

Me solo.

ZaraMeow & Ross.
Me playing a bass with lots of knobs on it.

Velvet Road = happy bluesy poppy rocky rolly



These guys were just splended...I've no idea who they were. He was a great singer and the other guy was a marvellous jazzy keyboard player with an equally fine voice.

Pete Thompson, Lucille, Ross & ZaraMeow. The half-full Heini closest to the camera is mine. I relished that beer, I really did. A very memorable drink on a hot day. That was my second beer. Just what I needed to play with the Velvets 15 minutes later.

Mick Elsley on djembe & Ken Stewart on guitar/vocal, aka Urban Guerillas in acoustic mode. Ken of course being the organiser of this event on behalf of the SSA.

Rob Conway came all the way from Mudgee to play some well-crafted, lyrical jazz tunes.

Nick Punal performing some songs off his latest album plus a few newies.

Gracedigger was an awesome rock dude!!!

Later I dropped off Zara & Lucille at Balmain and decided to go for a walk to wear off the beers I'd drunk. I went down to East Balmain and back again, sitting for a few minutes to soak in the harbour view, taking my shoes off and letting my feet breathe.

It turned out to be a quite satisfying day, despite the unrelenting daggers of heat that made us all dream of beaches and swimming pools. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink...

Thursday, November 12, 2009

7.2

Today's the day I bussed up to the Prince of Wales outpatient clinic to collect the results of last week's blood test. I had to make an appointment at the clinic to collect and consult with the medico. It's been 9 months since I last had a blood test, and preceding that test by 3 months was a previous test. The star figure, the number in question in all my blood readings, is my HbA1c.

Today's was 7.2.

In Nov 2008 it was 7.3. I improved it down to 6.6 by February 2009. Now it's climbed back up. In short, the HbA1c measures the amount of glucose present in hemoglobin over a period of about 10-12 weeks. It's a fairly good indicator of how one's at with diabetes control, in measuring the average amount of glucose in the bloodstream over a period of three months.

And my control ain't disastrous, but it does need improving. Otherwise they're gonna force the meds back on me and this time around I won't be in a position to turn the other cheek and silently spit the little white pills out onto the ground.

I noticed that my fasting glucose was 9.6. That's bad, really. HbA1c and fasting glucose should be in the 4.0-6.0 as normal-range readings. For diabetics this figure can move up a bit, into the sixes. The fact that I've hit 7+ means that I'll have to be monitored closely; by the time I return to the clinic up at Prince of Wales Hospital, Randwick, in March 2010, they'd like me to come down ideally to around the 6.5 mark.

What to do, what to do....

I suppose I need to watch the diet more, especially when I'm doing take-away. And keep the alcohol to a minimum too. I need to relax and slither my body into some kind of yogic sync, but I'm not particular a yoga kind of guy. I just need to be vigilant and keep my eye on it. I'm hoping I can get my readings back down to the mid-sixes.

If I don't do anything, and hover around the '7+' figure for a few more years, my slip will eventually begin to show, the cracks will burst open very crudely. I'll develop complications, seemingly out of nowhere. At worst I'll develop chronic renal failure, I'll require amputation, and I'll go blind. And my dick will fall off too.

So it's in my best interests to maintain my health as much as possible.

My cholesterol was higher than usual, 4.8, which isn't a bad figure in itself, but for diabetics the optimum figure is below 4. Thankfully my eyes are in perfect health, as are my kidneys. There was no protein in my urine; urine in the kidneys being a firm indicator that the endocrine functions are going awry.

In other words, I better act while I'm ahead.

I don't mind if I have to go back to medication. It'll help keep me in check. I don't have to worry about this for a few months and until then I'll battle on to reverse the condition, to go under 7 as far down as possible.

When I reversed diabetes originally I achieved something that was nothing short of the miraculous. I went from the deathly 16+ HbA1c, down to - at its very best - 5.2, smack-bang in the normal range. Since then it's steadily crept up. Can my body do it of its own volition? Can I get my HbA1c down to below 7, below 6 even?

Time will tell.

Until then I remain strangely unfussed.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Eva Cassidy's America

Canberra, May 2002

I haven't been motivated to read or write much over the past two weeks. I suppose I needed a break from it all, just give my head a rest from it. I've enjoyed that liberated sensation of vacuousness, a clear head. But invariably I'm drawn back to the computer, to chow down another set of whimsical musings, or otherwise. Even though I've just downed half a bottle of wine! *burb*

Last Tuesday night I had an urge to simply lie down and pull out some Eva Cassidy CDs. Eva Cassidy's songs are always around me and yet I hadn't actually listened to the CDs themselves for quite a while. I suppose I'm falling into the mp3 pit that seems to be the happening place listening-wise these days. Eva Cassidy sounds perfect on CD, and I think CD suits her better than the hypothetic vinyl. Eva doesn't require the warm, chocolately analogue grooves such as would suit a Janis Joplin - the more metallic flavour of compact disc somehow suits Eva's vibe more.

That Tuesday I listened to about 2 or 3 CDs in a row. I think there was 'American Tune' and 'Imagine'. I pulled out her bio from the shelf, re-read it in sections, and gazed at her photos and painting portraits while the music came out gently through the speakers like waves. As I was reading about the period of her bodily decay and passing it dawned on me that it was the anniversary of her death, 13 years to the day, on 2 November 1996, age 33. Coincidence maybe, but there was definitely a natural yearning to listen to her that night.

I love Eva's music. I totally and absolutely love her style and approach. And I'm totally into her guitar playing too, and I love Chris Biondo's touch as producer and bassist particularly. I love the great musicians who played with her and gave to the tracks their realness and genuineness, away from the pressures of industry expectations. I love that which Eva represents; the America of suburbs, recording studios, local bars with music, excellent local musicians dressing casually and looking normal. She represents the America of galleries, bicycle tracks, trees and leaves and stark seasonal changes. The America of Alice Sebold's 'The Lovely bones', that in itself, is something of the fiction-novel equivalent to Eva Cassidy's music. She represents all that is good in the nature around her and the wonderful coastline. You hear all of this in Eva's music. There is no gaudiness or hype in it whatsoever. It is pure music, unadorned by extraneous pressure, appealing to people who love good honest lives, a sweet restaurant here, a tree-lined walkway to a friend's house there.

Eva encapsulated all that is wonderful about American music. She did it all - folk, jazz, blues, country, pop and more, making it entirely her own. And yet Eva transcended the genres to create something magical, a feeling beyond time and place, something truly naturale. Eva's music is as pure and as universal as can be. And there's no glitziness or dazzling hair displays or funky outfits on her album covers, either. As all but one of her albums were released posthumously ('Live at Blues Alley' 1996), they are mostly adorned with simple, sweet photos of Eva in nature somewhere.

I don't know the exact geography of where Eva was born or lived, but it appears she was born in a satellite town/city just outside of Washington DC. This is around the mid-East coast of the USA. I gather from her bio that it's all pleasantly livable and a little opaque, a little bit like Canberra by the sea. And one good reason why I love Eva's music so much, aside from all that I've mentioned, is that her music speaks of my geography too. I'm an east-coast person. In wintertime when you're at the coast and the sun is setting behind you, ominous shards of pink, grey, purple and blue colour the seascape sky as the day darkens rapidly. There is a quietly intense melancholy to this. I hear it in Eva's music and I hear it as I'm at the sea during the cooler months.

There are places around where I live that have that palpable Eva Cassidy "feel", meaning, that when I'm at these places I have Eva's songs pulsing through my head and I "feel" her music in me most vividly and vibrantly. The coastline south of Sydney, in particular, is indicative of this feel. I find that Cronulla Beach on a winter's night is the spirit of the music of Eva Cassidy, and as I'm at the shoreline leaning against the steel railings, with the waves lapping below me and the cold wind blowing into my face, songs like 'Wade in the Water' and 'Wayfaring Stranger' are coursing through the air through my psychic stereo. Drive further south, Wollongong. In winter, same feeling. Again, it's being in a similar latitude to where Eva lived, and on the east coast, perhaps, that this sensation is engaged and made most familiar to me.

I remember the first time I'd visited Cronulla Beach at night. It was cold and fresh and I was meandering around the walkway that separated Wanda & Cronulla beaches. It was lit by street lamps and high apartments on one side, and the moon streaming into the sea on the other side over the steel railings. I looked up at the apartments and considered the idea of what would be the perfect life. I had the vision of a perfect woman, and a vastness and "everythingness" that pertained to all that was around me - it was a magic moment. I became like "nothing" and I was at one with everything. Life sped up from that point on, it was definitely a shift in consciousness for me. That was 8 July 1996.

For a period of about 2-3 years back around 2004-5 I would go to a tennis club on the last Friday of every month for a music night. Often it would be the one event I'd be looking forward to most of all during the month. The club is up in the North Shore just as you approach the bridge leading into the Northern Beaches. The area was generally freshly aired and leafy, and the club itself had a pleasantly, neutral vibe. And that was the thing that appealed to me, a no pressure, good music environment, away from the hum and "sting" of the inner city music scene. I like that sense of being out of the way a little, where the vibe is pleasant and safe and neutral, and away from where it's trendy and happening. And that's the quality I love about Eva's music.

I first encountered Eva in a two-page spread in the weekend edition of the Sydney Morning Herald back in 2001. I went out and bought 'Eva by Heart' and 'Live at Blues Alley' immediately, so drawn was I to what I read about her. I figured she was the female equivalent of Nick Drake, realising later that she was to be a lot than that to me.

I didn't love her music straight away. But there was an expanse of feeling, an openness, in this music that drew me in and immediately warranted a second listen. Within three years, I was hooked.

Eva Cassidy has been one of my greatest teachers. She's taught me, or has awoken in me at a deeper level, an appreciation of life, of the wonder of nature, and the bittersweet transience of it all. Her influence has made me a happier, more enlightened person, and for that I remain eternally grateful.

Al-Anon

enjoying a bevvy Awakening to the ‘good’ in our lives and to the fulfilling sense of gratitude which follows often comes to us via ...