Sometimes I read the comments that these days invariably follow news articles or op-ed pieces, though increasingly less and less. The internet may have democratized the common man, so to speak, allowing a thousand flowers to bloom. But there is a price. For every well-formed, substantiated, issue-centred response to an article, there are half a dozen, inarticulate, insulting, ad hominem rants that add nothing to reasonable debate. They are often aggressive, illogical and poorly evidenced.

Once upon a time these kind of opinions were confined to the pub, the back of a taxi or the odd family get together where inebbriated rellies would opine on the youth of today or the scourge that is single mothers. Or worse. Now, anyone who has an internet connection can be an instant publisher of opinions, regardless of their worth, rigour or balance. Rarely is there any attempt at genuine accountability, as users can hide behind meaningless psuedo-names. I wonder if any of these people would publish their opinions if they had to write their real name and home town? Very doubtful, I think.

And then there is the CAPS LOCK crowd. Now don't get me started on them.....

war memorial hazelbrook

drowned leaves lie
in limpid procession against
the dawn's unravelling

anzac badge

wrongly I thought
the fan of bayonets
a rising sun,
lest we forget

the music that dare speak its name

I know next to nothing about music that is generically referred to as 'classical'. But I do know what I like and have often wondered, in the times when I've been playing ABC Classic FM, what certain kinds of music that seemed quite similar, might be called. My own term was 'music of the sunny uplands', because this is often what images it called to mind. It's not the kind of name that's useful though when trying to describe it to friends. I knew that it dated from late in the 19th century through about midway in the 20th. I knew that Debussy and Vaughn Williams were two composers who seemed to write in this style. There were others too whose names I could never quite catch.

I had that 'doh' experience last night when thinking about it again and then I drew the obvious conclusion, one that, if I had really had my thinking cap on, I could have guessed at years ago. Impressionism. I know quite a lot about the painterly form of impressionism - it had just never occurred to me that the same movement was happening in music.

So while the shoe doesn't exactly fit (some composers denied that they were impressionists), I do have a way of thinking about the music of people like Debussy, Williams, Ravel, Delius, Satie and many others. Though why I didn't make that connection before astonishes me.

Tom and Nadia are away visiting rellies in Melbourne, so I am alone for a few days. It feels distinctly odd because I really haven't been on my own for a long time. I keep expecting requests, sorry, demands, to play, for juice or toast, complaints about this or that, or just insolent noises, at every turn.

This morning I had tea with my AIPC friend Leonie. We first met at an assessment during our counselling course and I hope that we can work as counsellors together. I think that Leonie has a common touch, is very empathic and is a great communicator, all good qualities in a therapist. And of course we can become better friends.

Footage tonight on the news of the PM and first man meeting the Emperor in Tokyo. With decent political leadership in short supply in Japan(since the retirement of the lionheart, Koizumi), the Emperor and broader royal family have become increasingly important as a steadying influence within Japanese society. One can argue the case that hereditary monarchies have no place in modern society but, if nothing else, the institutions elevation above the often heated fray of political debate is a distinct advantage.

Possums are snarling at each other outside and this afternoon, I heard cicadas singing. Well, there are always possums scrapping or bouncing on our back deck, but cicadas in April? That's a little odd.

my thoughts fly to
the lambent uplands
of the spirit
my hands
uncluttered in
expiation

back from campin'

Back tired but happy from time spent camping in Kangaroo Valley, our favourite spot. It gave me a chance to test the new Black Wolf Tanami(4EV)and I think it came through with dignity intact. I was still discovering new zippers and other curiously unexplained features days after we arrived at the camping ground. We had rain the first day and strong winds last night so a road test of sorts was had.

It was refreshing to camp in cooler conditions and this fact alone changed the dynamic of our camping party. Fewer people were in the park; we didn't need to think about swimming at the beach or at water holes, and we could legitimately light a fire every night. It was the most relaxing camp trip I've ever done. Even Tom seemed relatively calmed by the sheer natural spectacle that we daily woke to, the honking goose notwithstanding.

Driving back up the GWH into the mid-mountains, we were surprised by the very obvious and apparently sudden seasonal changes, as if autumn had finally got its act together. The quality of the sunlight and cool winds suggested, however, that winter was waiting impatiently, somewhere in the near distance.


five short days away -
a melee of red and yellow
assaults our return

tokyo story

Nadia borrowed Yasujiro's Ozu's Tokyo Story recently. Set in early post-war Japan, the movie is a meditation upon the changed priorities of the generation that emerged from the Pacific war, and the resulting conflicts with tradition and family obligation. Central to this is a story of one family, separated by distance and the imperatives of events.

The entire movie is shot at floor or knee level and actors often directly speak to camera. Conventions are broken to heighten the empathic engagement or personalize the movie - in fact, the overall effect is one of being an intimate on the set, observing, almost intruding into the lives of the characters.

A wonderful tale of a Japan that once was, looking at a Japan that is unlikely to come again.

confused leaves turning,
as if a thief had ransacked
autumn's barn

of books and daylight endings

Started on a 'new' self-help book, Feel the fear and do it anyway by Susan Jeffers. Actually, it's 20 years old and rather a best seller. Like most books in this genre (and this isn't necessarily a criticism) the advice seems obvious at first glance. Sometimes it can border on trite, the kind of writing that compels one to say, almost aloud, "Well, of course. I know that already!"

But that isn't the whole of it or even especially important. The best books in this field emerge from an intersection of expertise and experience and also an ability to construct a believable narrative. If the advice within them seems obvious then it may well be because of the psychological and experiential truths that the author is revealing. At the very least, the Jeffers book is likely to be helpful.

On another note, it's much darker in the evening now since daylight saving ended on the weekend. As if bidden by the changing of the clocks, gloomy weather has set in with grey skies, rain and much cooler temperatures. Tom has a cold and there are tissues throughout the house. He is not well trained at using them and so we are acquiring paper mountains.

april showers are
dancing on our roof,
dark beaded joy
above.

family matters

We have had Nadia's dad Lindsay up quite a lot lately. He seems to have taken a shine to our house and especially the fact, I suppose, that it's clean, modern and comfortable. There's also a kitchen dispensing veggie meals to his spot at the kitchen table, from which place he rarely removes himself.

My wife's father is an artist and musician and something of an old hippie. He has a fixation with new gadgets and counts amongst his current haul an imac,an mp3 player, two MD players, an AM/FM/SW radio, a voice recorder, a couple of cameras and assorted other devices. He had just acquired some portable solar panels and a tiny DC current fridge. He has lost or given away at least six mobile phones, a couple of video cameras, an ipod, these being the things that I actually know about. Retired gadgets would fill a large hall closet.

With this technophilia comes a distinct downside, for Lindsay is often unable to use his gadgets, or make them work together. Some devices are incompatible, or lack a small though crucial connection cable. Other have software issues or do things that he doesn't want them to do. Conversely, he believes that if he thinks that a device functions in a particular way, then it should do so, regardless of whether in fact it does. Now he is thinking about tablets and complicated mobile phones and I foresee a world of trouble for him and a huge waste of money.

Having Lindsay over also creates problems for my wife and mother-in-law, who don't really want him around. At all. I'm afraid that runs up against my desire to be hospitable and gets me into difficulty. As for that, I don't think it's my job to relay the displeasure of others (who should speak up for themselves) or curb what for me is a natural instinct.

Peace to all beings, as Lindsay might say.