Rainy Daze.

It's raining today in Melbourne, a restless travelling drizzle, drenching and disrupting. The ducks are out in force, splashing in the bubbling gutters, feathers slick with moisture and glee. Snails emerge from their hidey-holes with suppressed happiness. The damp is exciting but it is perilous too, the callous crunch of the human boots presents danger and certain-death. The rain is grey-not-blue and this city looks dull in the wet, muted. The colour runs in rivulets and tributaries next to fearless trams and cowering pedestrians. Neon signs punctuate the gloom. The tattoo of droplets to tarmac is soothing from a distance, a predictable beat and soothing Creation.

NOW PLAYING (SPRING)

Hey guys so it's Spring which means listening to joyous songs and sunshine and maybe lollipops and lots of yoghurt (bc yes dairy!) and inappropriate-weather-dressing and thirst and perspiration and sandals and dancing. And optimism also relating to the weather (because is actually more like Winter?)

So here is my now-playing playlist that helps me imagine it is in fact sunshiney and not drizzly and not less than 10 degrees celsius and that I am not maybe wrapped in considerable cocoon of clothing.

Lurch & Chief - Melbourne band, they played once at uni and then i checked out their triple j unearthed page  and stalked on various forms of social media and now i listen to my entire collection of their tunes (3 songs ahem) on repeat. This song is so so so catchy and I want to sing it aloud on the train all the time (and Mr lead singer's voice is like honey to my soul)

Alt J - a hasty google reveals alt-j to be British. Their name is actually ∆ but is pronounced Alt-J (duh??)

I had a sneaky listen to them in the wake of Laneway fest lineup announcement, because I was maybe too uncool to know many of the bands playing. And YES I love (triangle) now, so I am able to proclaim my coolness to the streets. An Awesome Wave is album of choice - maybe best song is Tesselate. (Solely for line: 'triangles are my favourite shape'??)

Michel Telo - this song reeks of my Europe travels and makes me want to laugh and dance (and cry because of nostalgia). And look how smooth Michel Tego is!?!! 

(Yes the video has 443 million views? - which is a considerable number. Join the fun children)

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.

SPRING

so hey guys if you haven't noticed, the month has ticked over september-way
and it is now SPRING which is a most delightful season filled with tweeting blue birds (TWITTER?), glorious filtered sunshine and beautiful blossoms.
(or something like this)
i'm sure you may have perused various forms of literature celebrating the oncoming of such darling weather, but this shall not stop me creating a tribute to the beginning of this season.
today in melbourne was so beautiful. there was blue sky and warm-but-not-hot/sweat, and there were sandals and eager kids bathing in some resplendent glow on the grass patches. sometimes, we are reptiles: too keen to soak up rays of heat and absorb into our cold and winter-hardened skin.
and it is around this time that i consider getting a leg wax (bc hairy bc winter), and revel in the absolute joy of icypoles. some people may consider icypoles to be childish/not suited to all occasions, but they are too wrong. icypoles are GREAT AND GROUSE. and you should indulge in them because they are delicious and icy and juicy and thirst-quenching and containing of fruit (extract) and might make your face sticky and liable to childhood reminisce. OH YEAH I LOVE THEM
today i saw a lady with some sort of stuffed bird/fake bird/not sure hair clip/hair piece/attachment in her hair and it was SO SPRING RIGHT NOW!!! but my phone was dead so i could not instagram this most marvellous piece of hair-stylin'

dr seuss, oh say can you see?

crispy

Melbourne on a winter night is crisp and beautiful.
Breath, and your air is clouds of white and pale and cloudy.
A child: pretending to smoke, but not actually
because, rather, inhaling fresh joy.
We huddle like penguins
hands in coat pockets with elegant scarves and bogan beanies.
The air is so luscious - I would really like to bathe in it and exist in it and store that very sweetness in my lungs forever.
My face feels joyous
(despite the little tears of cold)
Let us run amok in the wintertime.