Good gracious

Good gracious:

This song.
Jay-Z the man, 100 dollar billzzzzzz. I am excited for Gatsby (LEO) because it shall be lavish and beautiful

Also this song.
Because yeah you know Vampire Weekend are still awesome and this song is so catchy and even the squirrel voices aren't that annoying.

I got some new 'Moonlight Sparks' nailpolish.

Cinema Nova. Yeah right. Cinema Nova just rox my cat sox off. Today I saw a preview screening of Broken which was very intense and I don't think I breathed much during the whole movie because tension. Highly recommend.

Cinema Nova's Choctops. These choc-coated delights are wonderous creations. They also rox my sox. They're my favourite choctops in Melbourne because they're the bomb. Tonight I had chilli-chocolate and my other favourite is strawberry yoghurt with white choc. (Apparently cherry ripe is also titillating but I don't like cherry ripe so)

Today I saw/masterclass with Kabir Khan, who is a famous Indian director. It was very inspirational and interesting and he is a cool guy and good storyteller. He has had some adventures in his life. He started out creating documentaries and then drifted into fiction, but his fiction (he writes and directs) has always contained elements of documentary/real life.
He says:
There has to be a story behind every human being.

I saw some big fashion at Groovin the Moo. I wish I had a matching hat and shirt too

Pink lady apples are on sale at Coles. There is a cute barista at my new Tuesday cafe.

TV rox. Mad Men rules.

My sock obsession is gradually increasing.
JT and Frank Ocean are coming.
Chet Faker and Flume are best franz and this makes for great Instagram times.
Also I AM ELEVEN, this awesome doco that will make your heart ache of happiness and will also make you laugh and cry and yearn for youth, is out on DVD. It is lots of feelies but mostly joy joy joy

x

I AM ELEVEN

I work at a commercial cinema, and am oft subjected to a large amount of commercial-cinema-drivel. Many 'blockbuster' films feel unoriginal, inauthentic and tedious. Hey haven't I seen this film 100000 times before, perhaps with other glossy-looking people?? Sometimes I get nervous about the future of film: is it all about big explosions and ridiculous budgets and celebrities with glowing teeth?
But, fear not, fear not: it is not.
There is yet hope.

Documentaries provide a very un-Hollywood-esque freshness. A realness. They reek of authenticity and true and are exponentially more poignant than any embracing/love-struck couple. Docos make me feel so inspired: about my future as a media-practitioner, about the future of film. They illuminate the best qualities of film-making.

Recently, I ventured down to the beautiful Cinema Nova - home of cosy cinemas and melt-in-your-mouth/can-I-have-some-more? choctops, to watch Proud Mother Pictures' I AM ELEVEN.
Created by Melbourne's own Genevieve Bailey over the course of a globe-trekking 6 years, the film is a beautiful exploration into the lives of eleven year olds all around the world. Gen had thought of eleven as an in-between sort of age: not yet an adult, but not longer a child. An age where one may possess insight, but still be shielded by naivety.
Gen's journey is astonishing for so many reasons: for the kilometres she covers, for the passion and dedication and doggedness displayed upon the adventure. The trust she fosters between each individual child in the documentary is astounding, and allows the viewer to step into world of her international friends.
Conventional cinema often focuses on a single protagonist, and may chart a hero-narrative, or a romance, or a storyline with conflict and resolution. I AM ELEVEN is not about a single child: it has a feast of children, of different cultures and languages and life-experiences. Each has their individual insight and humour and quirks.

I found the documentary so so affecting.
The kids had a wealth of wisdom and insights. Remi, from France, was so serious and brooding, and reflective. He said: "I find it impossible to believe that people are still discriminated against because of the colour of their skin".
If only everyone could think like this young boy?
And the children from India, living in an orphanage. They were so thankful and joyous and glowing, revelling in their simple existence. One said: "I want to grow up and study medicine and become a doctor, so I can help people."
Children speak in a way adults are unable to: they speak free of inhibitions and jaded experience: they see the world in a different light. (Perhaps in more light?)
The audience grows attached to each within the film, it seems we may know them intimately. Perhaps we see ourselves reflected in their youthful features.

We see the children at the conclusion of the feature: older and more reflective. They laugh at their younger selves, muse at their physical changes. They are taller, stronger.

I AM ELEVEN prompts personal reflection. I think: what was I like when I was eleven? Was I so introspective? Did I think about the world? Did I think about getting married?
I remember, when I was eleven, I played with marbles and Russ toys and maybe had crushes on boys and wouldn't sing the rude words when my friend played Limp Bizkit up loud. We listened to Harry Potter on tape and made chocolate moulds. I played handball in the summer and swam in the swim team and sometimes talked about adult things like underarm hair and love.
The film made me marvel at the journey of Gen Bailey. I only wish that in my future I have such an incredible passion and drive, that drives me across continents and countries, and into houses and lives of strangers. Such obvious dedication makes my heart ache and sing with startling simultaneity.

judy blume ft inspiration

it's been a week of busy and of crazy
but in the midst of it all i have experienced some inspiration, some hopes for the future.
on friday at my uni home rmit, i was privy to a forum of documentary filmmakers, inclusive of john safran, helen gaynor and two more esteemed and knowledgable gentleman. i think i am more interested in sound/audio than film as an artistic medium, but their knowledge and thoughts on doco were transferable between the mediums. it was incredibly interesting and incredibly inspirational: the four on the panel were, really, just ordinary people who had gone out and "done stuff" (to quote mr safran). proactivity and luck and humour had resulted in something big. 

MAYBE I CAN DO SOMETHING, ONE DAY?
eeep. 

and then on the weekend i volunteered at the melbourne writer's festival (check it out). i was rostered in green room, which meant i sat around and drank tea, and helped famous authors sign in, and walked them to their talks/designated rooms. 
and all these famous types were just so normal!
i know i know, they are just people, but sometimes i expect peeps of celebrity status to be sparkly and something. (but they never are). they were all so friendly and nice and they drank revolting instant coffee JUST LIKE ME. 

and i went to a talk by a man called kooshyar karimi, who had been born in tehran, in iran: his mother jewish, his father muslim. his father had three wives, and this had been allowed by his religion. it was regarded as a good deed, because he was looking after three women, who may have otherwise been homeless or destitute. karimi talked about how his mother had taught him and his younger brother about judaism, about Adonai, about the stories of moses and joseph. karimi had found moses to be an appropriate hero-figure: an inspirational figure to whom he could look to for guidance. 
he was arrested by the iranian secret service and forced to work for them: to route out prominent jews in tehran. (his acts as somewhat of a confessional for this) 
he and his family managed to escape (he calls it an inexplicable miracle) to turkey, where they sought asylum. 
karimi had always dreamed of going to israel, but his wife was reluctant, and they came to australia, where karimi is now a practising gp in country nsw.

hearing stories like that of kooshyar karimi makes me appreciate life and world, but also marvel at his resolve and character and journey. i can't possibly imagine or even think of imagining what he went through in his basement in tehran or in the secret service. it is beyond any fathoming. 

and and today i bought a judy blume diary. oh yes i did. 
it shall serve as "a place to put my own feelings" (to quote the front cover) and has lots and lots of delectably '80s photos and inspirational/poignant Judy Blume lines:

"Sometimes I think Janet is going to be a terrible flirt!"
Deenie

xoxo