Batman
How prosaic. I was hoping for Green Lantern, although his superpower is jewellery. And which superhero do you want to be when you grow up?

A Night on Our Own
With Russell back in Bellingen, you might have expected us to stay home for a quiet night and another episode of Inspector Rex, but we’d booked tickets to see Tex Perkins weeks ago, so off to The Basement we went for dinner and a show. It’s a very good music venue, and I’d like to go in for a jazz evening sometime, but Mr. Perkins is pursuing a different line than he had in the past, most notably perhaps with the Cruel Sea, his new band, the Dark Horses, having a folkier, country style, relying on his voice to do the muscular work, so it was as well suited to the stage there. He had a nice collection of sidemen with him, including Charlie Own and Joel Silbersher. I would, however, recommend against going to The Basement for dinner – it’s hard to mess up salmon, but they managed – too much microwave cookery, I’d wager. I can’t say anything good for the opening act last night either, except that individually they managed to play well enough. Maybe it’s just that I was too tired by the time they finished, but all their songs were the same and none of them ever got off the ground: too much time noodling to no good purpose; a they didn’t strike me as having spent much time practicing in the same room. In the end, it may be a while before we get out again, to the Annandale for the next heavyweight championship of Sydney, for example, although it does seem the music scene is having a nice resurgence, and I’d go see Tex Perkins again someday.

Tourism
No one should get the idea that I haven’t been spending lots of time getting to know my new city, but I took off two days this week to spend in wandering through Sydney with my father-in-law, and it’s been quite a lot of fun toting a camera and seeing the city accompanied by someone with a few extra decades of history here to impart. Russell was sometimes lost in contemplation of his past in Sydney, which was, I think, a fairly significant part of why he came to town, but he never failed to engage me with stories and lore of the places we visited. We spent nearly half an hour circumnavigating the Department of Lands building, for example, while I learned who and why certain persons were enshrined along the façade. As fun as it was to examine the sandstone buildings of the Victorian era, it was even more delightful to stroll through the Botanical Gardens out to Wollomolloo, where we had lunch and discussed the merits of the sailing ship berthed across from our table. The ‘loo – an unfortunate but evidently previously apt nickname – is a neighborhood that has changed a good deal over the years, although once you begin the climb up through Darlinghurst into Surry Hills, the old character of the suburb becomes a bit more clear, as well as the evident disregard local government continues to exhibit towards the residents of such places, the Eastern Distributor having been plowed straight through it, an overhead rail line above, and now the latest tunnelling project underway. As much as Sydney needs the relief from traffic, it’s easy to see why people get so upset over the plans: they will go through regardless of objections in an eminent domain taking and I’ll bet they’re only as effective as current conditions allow. In a year or more, new projects will be required. We also went through Milson’s Point, a fascinating district on the other side of the Harbour Bridge, where in addition to our sightseeing M. and I hoped to locate a situation for viewing the New Year’s fireworks, for which we will be hosting our first international visitor. (I’m voting for the old pub we found, but there are some other places still in the running.) There are some wonderful sights to see from this side of the city, including an archaeological dig (which may yet become an apartment block), as well as areas where sandstone was evidently cut for the purpose of supplying building materials elsewhere in town. Lunch in The Rocks, the oldest surviving part of Sydney, in a garden abutting a great wall of sandstone and overgrown with towering plants that look straight out of an episode of the Lost World. I feel we have thoroughly scouted locations throughout the city to which we will make all visitors march and express sounds of delight. I’m also somewhat inspired to take up Russell’s suggestion of a photographic project: the stairs of Sydney. They’re everywhere, some only by suggestion of where they had been, others that no longer take you anywhere, others more extensive and still in use, but all highly photogenic. I’ve got to get better versed in f-stops, though, or fix the light meter on my SLR.

North Head
My revered father-in-law, Russell is down from Bellingen for a visit. We’ve been having a splendid time, and yesterday travelled out to Manly, where Sydney meets the Pacific head-on, to pun a little. The entrance to Sydney Harbour is flanked by headlands, North and South Head, and we spent a little time there watching ship traffic and bracing against the westerly wind that had kicked up overnight (and which has caused a bit of damage up and down the coast, but aside from one death, nothing too severe). The view was spectacular, the sun just past its noon height, with some sparse clouds adding dramatic effect to the skyline in the near distance. At the edge of our vision, we could even see the Blue Mountains, like a wall rising up from the horizon. The Harbour itself was churned into whitecaps by the wind, spreading the spray across a larger area than normally from the wake of the few vessels out there. Some might have thought of sailboats, but the wind was much too strong to be safe, and most people stayed home, although we did pass one adventurous soul making excellent progress with his jib at a minimal height. He was close enough to Manly at that point that I didn’t worry for him making land before New Zealand, although he was making nearly as much sideways progress as forward. There’s a great deal to see up Manly way, and scouting through the reserve on North Head, we located a nice little sheltered beach with a fall of fresh water and which didn’t appear to get much traffic, at least not at this time of year. As it turns out, this is where Captain Phillip caught a spearing from a local Aborigine – which became the source of the later town’s name, as he remarked without animosity that the fellow who attacked him was a “manly” fellow. Do I believe this bit of lore? It doesn’t matter; it makes a nice story. More adventures with Russell are sure to come, but if they just involve going down to the water, I’ll be more than happy. The Harbour is one of the loveliest places on the face of the earth. As for Manly, well, the surfing looks pretty good out there, and by the familial expert’s account, I needn’t worry over being short-sighted to have a go.

Comic Book Life
Haven’t we seen this movie? Mitsui is implementing a joint venture to produce a robot suit, essentially an exo-skeleton and assisted musculature. Iron Man, here we come, or M.A.N.T.I.S, anyway.

Klaatu Barada Nikto
Apparently the trouble all started in Ohio. I’m very glad to hear that everyone’s all right, just as glad as I was to be confirmed in my immediate supposition that the problem was all those air conditioners and weeks of high temperatures. “Third World Grid” is correct, as it appears to date to the same approximate era as can be found sub-Sahara. Not that I should necessarily be one to talk, with the overhead wires everywhere here, and the telephone lines in our Glebe building were 70 years old. Looking at the news coverage I was immediately reminded of The Day the Earth Stood Still,” the movie in which the galactic citizen arrives to warn us of the dire consequences of pursuing global warfare and demonstrates his power by shutting down (selectively) all the electricity on Earth. It must have been strange, quiet and dark, with the stars overhead. Did anyone go out and look? I would have.

1977
While the rolling brownouts California experienced one recent summer were the result of corporate malfeasance, it appears so far that the blackout presently occurring in the middle of rush hour in the Northeastern U.S. is a “natural” disaster, with a power plant fire disrupting the energy grid from Detroit, across Ottawa, and down to NYC. It appears the heat this summer and the demand on the system have combined in just the way Con Ed has been warning everyone lately. The nice Russian lady who sells coffee at Central Station broke the news to me, after she’d gotten off the phone with her family in Brooklyn, so they’re not completely cut off, although apparently cell phone networks are out. As much as I’m glad not to be there (I remember ’77, not to mention more recent events), I’m also a little sorry, wondering a little how Buffalo is getting on and our friends in Brooklyn and Queens and Manhattan, my former colleagues. . . . I hope no one’s caught in the subways or an elevator.

Update: "A normal day" tomorrow is being predicted by the Mayor. Except there won't be an ice cream anywhere, I'll bet, and there will be a pervasive odor of spoiled milk. And that many more people will be a little more nervous heading down to the subway.

George O.
Why does Bush II’s administration sound more and more like 1984: because John Ashcroft is the Attorney General. Among other reasons. Ashcroft’s latest is the Victory Act, and he’s going on a national tour to promote its passage. Not satisfied with the discriminatory violations available to him under the USA Patriots Act, Ashcroft is looking to this new bill (formerly a supplement to the original) to target Islamic banking and businesses as well as being able to eavesdrop on wireless communications at will. The Vital Interdiction of Criminal Terrorist Organizations [RY] Act also includes provisions for increased penalties in the failed “War on Drugs” the US has employed as a club in South and Central America for the last 40 years. (It’s nice they almost had an acronym, isn’t it? It would have been clever marketing if they’d come up with something for the last two letters to do. Perhaps we can email suggestions to the DOJ. Unless they meant “Victor” Act, because they think they’ve won already.)

Sunnydale, California: RIP
From what I’ve seen on the internet, Australia appears to be the last country to play the final season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which means it’s probably safe to write about the closing episode of the season without spoiling anyone’s fun. It was a lot of fun, too, although as it turns out, Buffy was really about Title IX all along. O.k., that’s a reference only Americans will understand straight off, but Buffy is a very American show. Title IX is a provision in federal civil rights legislation that requires that schools and universities fund men’s and women’s extra-curricular activities – e.g., and to the point, sports – equally. Basically, if a college is going to have a men’s soccer team, it has to ensure the women’s team gets the same level of funding and opportunity. Sounds fair enough, but the impact of Title IX has been huge since it was enacted, and it continues to have an evolutionary effect on education and society in general. The US didn’t have a World Cup-winning women’s team in soccer out of nowhere, you know. So last night Buffy enacted her own Title IX, which made for a perfect end to the season and to the series overall. Buffy has always been about giving women power, and it’s always been the female characters that have grown the most from show to show, season to season. Although most people will have seen kung fu and vampires, these were bait, hiding the real hook waiting to draw you in: the exploration of growing up and learning to be an adult, interacting with other adults. Well-written overall, if not terribly subtle (but never without humor), Buffy was one of the best shows on television.

Keep Watching the Skies
Haven’t we already seen this movie? Over in Perth, a 10-year old boy was nearly clobbered by a falling meteorite. They’re checking to see if it’s really a meteorite, but I think there’s two things they ought to be checking for: is there a bigger piece on the way, and will the boy develop super powers?

Publish or Perish
Check out They Came from Hollywood soon, as my haiku on The Crawling Eye is featured!

Syd-ney, Syd-ney!
Out to see the Swans play the Hawthorne Hawks on Saturday at the Sydney Cricket Ground, a fine old stadium, smaller than the Telstradome (formerly the Olympic Stadium). AFL is a thrill-a-minute came, borrowing from rugby and soccer and (God help us) basketball, by all appearances. After having seen a bit on television, I’d come to the conclusion that it is a game of no little precision, not to mention a lot of tearing around the field, but that really depends on a number of other factors. The Hawks kept Sydney’s possessions huddled into the center of the field for the most part, while managing to take the ball outside and in the air themselves, allowing them to score nearly at will. Sydney’s passing looked good, but wasn’t getting them very far, although they did manage to bring the game to within three goals in the second half. Still, for all that you can say it was a tight score, the Hawks outplayed the Swans, and playoff hopes now rest on next weekend’s game against Collingwood.

Enough sportswriting. I left the house a half an hour or so after dark and walked up to Moore Park, where the SCG is located, eventually joining a fair throng wending its way through Surry Hills. Saturday had been a little chilly, sunny overall, but with nightfall had cooled off still more, so I was a little surprised to see fruit bats swooping through the fig trees and over the ornamental ponds, hunting bugs. (When I was younger and went every year into the Adirondack mountains, we’d see bats, but little ones, and their flight was quite distinct from the swallows which would also be out hunting over the lakes; fruit bats, too, have a distinctive flying style: they look like those rubber bats you’d see in vampire movies, a heavy, leathery but languorous flapping.) I picked up a copy of the Record and paged through to glean what information I could prior to meeting my friend, Andy, who’d secured a place for me in the member’s stands from a friend of his, part of a group of nearly a dozen who go to the games quite regularly. (And yes, we had a mobile-moment: engrossed as I was in the Record, I wasn’t really watching for Andy, and he didn’t recognize me, either, rugged up as I was. We’d each brought our phones to triangulate our meeting, but when he placed the call, he was standing right behind me. Hilarity ensued.) I was very impressed with the crowd overall, the majority wearing their team’s colours, mostly knit hats and scarves, but also tall, stovepipe hats, striped like the cat-in-the-hat’s, lending a certain air to the proceedings they may not have intended. (I also learned that it’s the swans in western Australia, near Perth, that are black; otherwise, Australian swans are white, just like their northern hemisphere cousins, which fact I seemed to have gotten mixed up on. That explains a lot, but not, however, why Sydney teams seem to prefer less-than-fearsome beasts as mascots.) Ross and Andy and the others were very helpful, straightening me out on some of the finer points as well as correcting the assumptions I’d made.

In the event, Aussie Rules strikes me as the game of choice. Rugby’s all well and good, but it’s a game of brawn and grit, while AFL seems to employ more – and varied – skills, keeping the proceedings lively, even thrilling. I suppose I can still claim the Rabbitohs as my League team, but it may only be by rights of my status as a foreigner that I get away with it. Most people I’ve spoken to disparage (good naturedly, although I suppose there are those less even-minded) one sport over the other (and let’s not even address the difference between Rugby League vs. Rugby Union). There isn’t really a correlative sports divide in the States, though, so we’ll just mark up my inability to fully choose between them to culture.

Summer Tips to Remember
Windows open at the top and bottom equally for a reason, one the Victorians knew, and that we’ve apparently lost track of with the advent of electric fans and air conditioning. Because CFCs and global warming and drought conditions that last three years are a significant source of environmentalist concern, it seems reasonable to use low-tech solutions to the situations brought about or exacerbated by technological innovation. But window screens are essential.

Athletics
This weekend is the City-to-Surf, a 15K foot race through Sydney. I won’t be participating this year – I’ve been pretty slack getting into shape for even 5K – but I’m ready for the next one, at least insofar as the gear’s concerned. This past Monday, an official Keith Richards Athletic Club singlet arrived in the mail. I probably need to promote some participation among other, similarly minded athletes here, but this establishes the Sydney chapter. Now to hit the streets. . . .

Green Pastures
A couple of years ago, a sewage treatment plant up in Harlem was roofed over with a pretty, grassy playground. I haven’t heard much lately, but at the time it was a pretty dismal affair, as it apparently smelled very bad indeed, angering the neighbors, as they felt slighted that the city expected they wouldn’t mind using a smelly playground. Maybe things have improved. Meanwhile, another greenway effort is underway in Milwaukee, where the sewer district’s headquarters has installed a rooftop garden. O.k., it’s not a garden; it’s a stormwater management system. At 11,000 square feet (about 1021 square meters), it’s a fairly large building, and the effect is expected to be significant. There’s a big call here by the government for homeowners to install rainwater tanks, but I wonder if a similar hydroponics approach might be another way to go? Perhaps strata and company title buildings could pursue an organic co-op effort on their roofs? But would the natural rainfall be enough? It’s starting to look like another year of drought, after all. Well, there’s always cactus. (Thanks to Nick Aster, at Beyond Brilliance, Beyond Stupidity for the Journal-Sentinel link.)

Render Unto Caesar
Bush II’s radical fundamentalist outlook explains a lot of his opposition to gay marriage. He is also a typically short-sighted politician in this respect and a rampant homophobe. John Howard has decided to weigh in with his support for Bush II’s position, but he’s taken the take that government should support male-female-only marriage because it is required for the “survival of the species.” Marriage is a civil contract between two persons to engage in mutual support, and traditionally that has entailed support of any offspring. Religions have sought to endorse this contractual obligation by adding quasi-mystical elements. People make these commitments outside of marriage, too (which is one of the factors that imperil institutional religions). Acknowledging that homosexuals can and often do commit themselves to monogamous relationships by allowing them to register their pledge with the state imperils nothing, at least no further than it is already affected. Governments, despite Howard’s statement, are not often engaged in ensuring the survival of the species, but rather the maximization of an on-going tax base: they ensure their own survival. Because of the significance of the Religious Right in politics, particularly during the Reagan administration, there is a perception that political survival depends on catering to the requirements of fundamentalists, at least in part, a practice that has two effects: first, a “Catch-22,” wherein the influence of the Religious Right increases even while politicians strive to distance themselves from it, because they also seek to placate it (like a stray dog, the more you feed it, the more likely it is to follow you home, the very situation that has put Bush II in office); second, a rise in violent activism – the same conditions faced by the Saudis, among others – and there were enough anti-abortion-related bombings and shootings in the U.S. to give anyone concern. Governments should build and maintain roads and bridges, fund courts and schools, provide for a reasonable level of national defense, and seek to generally improve the quality of life among their constituent populations. Instead, we see them seeking to qualify what life is. Clinton may have had the education to engage in philosophical debate, but I don’t see any evidence that Bush II or Howard can manage it.

Mobs & Collective Activity
O.k., so everybody’s heard about the Flash Mob phenomenon, and if you’ve been following it in the major newspapers et al., then you’ll also have encountered references to Smart Mobs, which are a political version, not yet a phenomenon, but expected at some point, as a result of the same technology and connectedness that has given us it’s precursor. There is a smaller version, however, and it’s been around a while now, called an Art Collective. Evidently, Art Collectives are experiencing a resurgence (although it’s not entirely clear from the article what they actually do). Flash Mobs seem to exist between these two. They have an artistic element and appear to be trending toward a political content. They are absurdist and activist. (You could also say they’re Happenings for the Attention Deficit Disorder generation.) Can we expect Flash to morph into Smart? It seems more likely that they’ll fade away like any other fad, perhaps to have moments of recurrence over the years, like the Art Collectives. But have a look over at Flock Smart, and you might change your mind about that.

Dentistry
What with the familial connection I have with the dental arts – Mom was a professional hygienist and performed or instigated our tooth care – I take a certain interest beyond the usual, so last night’s trip for a check-up and cleaning was notable. I have not ever had someone else do all the work for me: even rinse-and-spit. The equipment was the cleanest and most modern I’ve run across and the professionalism was top-notch. We’ve all seen the Simpsons joke about the “Big Book of British Smiles,” used to terrorize small children into brushing regularly, but clearly Australia has gone to some lengths, at least lately, to ensure there’s no corresponding Australian edition. Good news, too, since tooth decay equals heart disease.

Remarkable Story from Woking
Last night looking at the night sky to the east, M and I could see an unmoving, reddish object in the sky. Is it a satellite? Yes, probably; certainly not a plane. Hmm. Maybe it was Mars. Or maybe it was one of those cylinders launched back in the ‘30s by Orson Wells and in 1898 by H. G. Wells. There are definite advantages to living in a place with lower levels of waste light than you get in Europe and North America

Events of the Day
In the words of 50 Cent (who picked that name?): “It’s your birthday, we’re going to party like it’s your birthday. . . .” Yes, it’s M.’s birthday today, although we had the party on Saturday. We had a good crowd, quite a mix, and everybody had a good time. It started early and ran late, always a good sign. We didn’t do presents, but some turned up anyway, and they were all very thoughtful. (I think Spirited Away was supposed to be for my birthday instead, though.)

Papers? Show Me Your Papers
I’m one of those people who believe that my right to travel within the U.S. does not require the use of identification, but the potential for internal security documentation requirements will soon reach the point where we all throw up our hands and give in. The Transportation Security Administration is about to impose new restrictions on persons seeking to travel on any commercial flight in the country. I especially like that they’re targeting “violent felons” so we don’t have to fly next to an “ax murderer.” Do they believe their own lies? This is very obviously another one of the civil liberty infringements the Bush Administration is attempting under the banner of keeping us safe from terrorists, but the killers who flew the planes in the terror attacks of September 11 wouldn’t have been picked up this way, would they? It’s of particular interest that they mention locating members of the Animal Liberation Front, an extreme activist group (who haven’t killed anyone, by the way). Read the Department of Homeland Security’s press release, but keep your blood pressure medication handy.

Return to Bali
Although the Kuta Club, the primary target in last year’s terror attack on Australians, has not been rebuilt (and it won’t be, not until after twelve months have passed, so as to ensure no evil spirits remain), the other bombing site in Bali, Paddy’s Irish Pub, reopened its doors on Saturday, full of the sound of ‘Strine, once again. It’s a very nice thing for Bali, and for those of us feeling the effects of September 11 and October 12 it’s a very heartening event, especially when so many of the survivors were able and willing to return to Bali for the celebration.

Bad Ideas
John M. Poindexter has been fired by the Pentagon. As a leader in the production of bad ideas – beginning with the Iran/Contra arms for hostages scam, and proceeding to proposing that the Pentagon maintain electronic surveillance (internet, telephone, television, etc.) of all Americans to weed out the terrorists – the convicted felon and Admiral lost all credibility by proposing the almost immediately discredited idea of a “futures market” in terror attack intelligence. A brilliant idea, isn’t it, as anybody who managed to do well in such a scheme would have to be a terrorist themselves, and therefore prosecutable for insider trading. As much trouble as I have understanding how he got a job in the first place, I’m still amazed it took this long to fire him. Good riddance. (Who’s next?)