Headfuck

MONA opening. Also, say yes to parties thrown by millionaires.

by Veronica on January 22, 2011

in Blogging, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck

Trying to find the words to write about the Mona opening is like stammering adjectives and spluttering lots. I’m a writer, but I’m having trouble articulating what the entire experience was like. Surreal comes to mind – and I know surreal is a word overused, but surreal is about all I can drum up.

Thanks to ABC radio and our titles of ‘Micro Critic’ we got tickets to the VIP opening, the giant party thrown by millionaire David Walsh. I was already a bit stunned by the socialite dresses and name dropping going on around me, so I shouldn’t have been shocked to see upwards of 80 lobster tails on a rotisserie as I headed down to the tennis courts and museum entrance. Glasses of champagne were handed out as we walked past and I, for the first time in a long time, had a drink as we walked.

Once inside the museum, we collected our O Device (an iPod touch, uploaded with Mona software) and walked down three stories of stairs into the depths of the museum. Open rock faces had been left exposed and I was stupidly pleased about that. There is something about the beauty of sandstone walls that makes me happy.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but a giant party in the foyer area probably wasn’t it. Maybe trays of hors d’oeuvres and a glass of wine before we walked around, but the scale of the catering left me a bit shocked.

I have expensive tastes, on a bread and butter budget. Even this was beyond what I’d expected. Tables filled with wine glasses waiting to be filled. An open bar with every conceivable drink you could want. A table piled high with nothing but fresh bread and a table next to it with cheeses. Salads served in paper cones, dished up from giant silver bowls. Prosciutto sliced in front of you. A giant blue fin tuna, just sitting on ice – an accompaniment to the finest sashimi. Hundreds of oysters on ice. Russian caviar worth $200 for 25g, being handed out on spoons and washed down with good vodka shots (that I declined).

Like I said, astounding. Really, for me, a once in a lifetime experience.

The museum is indescribable. Sex and death combine with art to create something that is offensive, shocking, breathtaking and brilliant. I wasn’t offended, but the wall of vaginas appeared to upset some of the men. 151 vaginas were modeled, while a master carver carved them (we think in wax, but it’s a bit unclear) and then cast them to display. The effect is astounding, as you walk down a hallway with a line of vulvas looking at you.

Personally, that was one of my favourite exhibits and something that every teenage girl should see. The range of normal is beautiful and not something we get to see often. I think it does however need a companion work of 151 penises, but that’s my bias coming through.

I loved it. The whole experience was something I doubt I’ll get to repeat ever again and I am intensely excited at the thought of showing it all to Nathan, who is staunchly anti-artwank and who is looking forward to seeing it.

Even more than that, I am really interested to see what this does for Tasmania as a whole. We’ve now got one of the best private museums in the world and I couldn’t be more proud.

I ended up getting to chat to some very interesting people, care of introductions from Stephen Estcourt. The very lovely Lindsay Tuffin and Richard Flanagan for starters. Both incredibly interesting men that I’d look forward to talking with again. I’m a fan of both of their work, Lindsay’s website is excellent and Richard’s writing, well. Brilliant comes to mind. I also met Leo Schofield and his wife, who are both lovely.

I also talked to Kylie Kwong for a bit too and did an excellent job of not fangirling at her.

It’s going to take a while to be able to fall back into real life after this. We’re on the radio again on Monday – 8.40am, live as far as I know. You can listen to that live streaming with this link.

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Birds falling from the sky?

by Veronica on January 6, 2011

in Animals, Headfuck

I originally wrote this in August 2009, after Nathan and I witnessed the middle of a flock of birds falling out of the sky. In light of recent events with birds dropping dead in Arkansas, Louisiana and now Sweden, I thought I’d repost it.

***

A few days ago, our local newspaper ran a story on sparrows being found dead throughout Hobart, or disappearing entirely.

Nathan and I read it and remarked that there were entirely too many sparrows about in our parts and good riddance. We were talking about it again today as we were driving. We pointed out the huge flocks of sparrows (and starlings) sitting on the fences and power lines.

Then we saw the weirdest thing ever.

A group of sparrows flew towards the road. There were probably 50-60 birds? As they flew in a group, they banked over the Highway to turn around …

… and the middle just fell out of the group. Mid flight, twenty birds dropped to the ground dead. Nathan and I were stunned. It wasn’t the kind of thing we were expecting to see at all.

As we drove through the dead birds littering the Highway, I peered out of the window expecting to see one or two shaking out their feathers and hopping away, stunned, but not dead.

No.

They were dead.

Twenty or so birds, just fell out of the sky with no warning. All at once.

30 metres up the road, another six or seven birds were dead in a group on the road.

It was honestly the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.

Ever.

***

Afterwards, the deaths were deemed to be caused by Salmonella poisoning, but I’m not convinced. Surely if it were Salmonella poisoning, they would have died on the ground, not on the wing and all at once?

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Fuck the greenhouse, fuck the weather and where the fuck is my holiday spirit?

by Veronica on December 21, 2010

in Blogging, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck, Soapbox

Remember the greenhouse?

Well, it held up mostly brilliantly, until this morning. Obviously the holiday stress has been getting to it, because it tried to fly away this morning. Unfortunately, greenhouses built out of bendy metal poles aren’t designed for flying and instead it flopped down, 6 inches away from where it started, slightly bent and a little worse for wear. Also lucky, it tried to fly away while I was checking my morning emails, so I spotted it and had it pinned back down quite quickly.

An hour later, it tried to fly again, this time uprooting itself from the bottom poles in order to do so. A few bags of potting mix, some more tape and some ingeniousness, and it was stuck back down. Again.

The weather today has been getting progressively worse, colder and windier. Certainly a day for hiding inside with hot chocolate, not a day for preventing flying greenhouses, because you guessed it, it tried to fly again.

More successful than the first two attempts, this time it flew a good three feet in the air, before collapsing back down with a giant thud, trying again and pulling all of the support beams out.

I tried to fix it, I really did. But once I made my way into the internals of the flying greenhouse, it tried to impale me, rather viciously. The wind tore the plastic out of my grip, metal poles were flying everywhere and after being beaten by a flying pole and worrying about my internal organs, I bailed out.

Really, can you blame me?

It’s still tied down, so really, it’s not doing anything other than flopping around like a fish on the end of a line and occasionally trying to murder me when I get too close.

I was already short on Christmas spirit before the assassination attempt. A nasty flu virus that turned into a chest infection, coupled with a period that has lasted almost 5 weeks now (despite me being on the pill) and a course of prednisone to keep me breathing have all conspired to make me grinchy.
Really really grinchy.

But! It seems the blogosphere isn’t half as grinchy as I am, because we’ve managed to raise an extraordinary amount of money to send presents to the children stuck in detention on Christmas Island.

The amazing Louisa decided that she wanted to send things and she mobilised the blogsphere and our various sponsors into helping. As I write, she has almost made the amount of money needed to courier the gifts to the detention centre and any extra money donated will be spent on gifts to add to the parcels.

I even managed to get Cal Wilson to tweet about it.

If there is any chance you can donate, or if you’re in Melbourne, get gifts to Louisa to be sent, then please, go and check out her blog for how to do that.

And hopefully, by the time I’ve pressed publish, my inner grinch will have been tamed with something that isn’t a metal bar trying to stab me. I think the Universe is telling me something.

help

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I take back everything I said about the stupid fucking greenhouse

by Veronica on December 10, 2010

in Garden, Gotta Laugh, Headfuck

Oh yes, it was BRILLIANT, right up until we had a bit of a breeze and some rain.

I woke up this morning, to find it collapsed and half the joins broken. No matter I thought, DUCT TAPE. It fixes everything.

I hassled Nathan until he got out of bed to help me and in the middle of a rainstorm, with the wind trying to blow us away, we put it back together. Of course, then the sun came out and defrosted our frozen fingertips and ears.

We pinned it down better than before and went away.

An hour later, it sailed merrily across my paddock, dropping poles and joins all the way.

This time, it was pretty broken.

Some people might have called it fucked, but not me.

No, I am more determined than intelligent.

Through the waist high grass I dragged its various bits and pieces back to the small enclosed yard.

Wind safe! I thought. Protected! I thought. Easy to access!

Haaaaaaaaaaa. Cough.

Amidst a lot of swearing, Nathan and I put it back together. We only had to traipse back out to the paddock to look for missing pieces half a dozen times or so.

An entire roll of duct tape and an awful lot of cursing later, it was back upright and mostly okay. We pinned it down, even better this time and went inside.

It will be fine I thought. It’s protected from the wind on all sides! The weather isn’t even hitting it.

I kept thinking that, right up until the wind grabbed it and tried to steal it.

Again.

Racing outside in bare feet, I grabbed it and held it down, while the wind gusts passed.

And then we tied the fucking thing to the fence on one side and star pickets on the other side. I’d like to see it try to run away now.

On the upside, the temperature inside must be sitting somewhere near 38C – a far cry from the 10C it actually is outside.

As soon as I can find the energy to bring the watermelons and honeydew seedlings over from the big garden, I’ll pot them up. Again.

I’m sure they’ll be grateful.

UPDATED:

Photos. Because Kristin asked me for them.

I tied it to the fence. Front and back. If it goes, it takes the fence with it. Please don’t let that happen.

A bamboo stake promotes “stability”.

More “stability” and lots of duct tape. And some grass.

And now, two different dramatic representations of how it looked when I found it blown away.

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Saving Humanity?

by Veronica on October 12, 2010

in Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, Headfuck

After the nightmare that was my Gyn visit recently, I went to my GP to ask about the new drugs.

Surprisingly (ha!) with a close family history of blood clots, I shouldn’t be taking anything to make my blood clot, except under direct medical supervision, which we assume means only if I’m in hospital being monitored. I’m incredibly annoyed that they were prescribed without pertinent questions being asked first.

I had a good whinge about the medical system and got myself referred to a different Gyn, in a private practice. So dammit, I’m going to be listened to, even if I’ve got to pay for the privilege outright.

With the EDS, a family history of blood clots (from the other side of the family) Gyn issues and everything else stacking up, my GP quipped that our family had all these issues, so that the rest of humanity didn’t have to.

Which sort of hit home.

I try really hard not to count the labels were dealing with, but we’ve got a whole host of things going wrong medically.

A veritable melting pot of fuckedupedness.

I mean, sure I can laugh about it, but what a nightmare.

And once, just once, I’d like to be not saving the rest of humanity from disease. You know? It just feels like a little much for one person to deal with.

They’re definitely not wrong when they tell you that one broken gene leads to a host of issues.

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