Mon 5 Sep 2005
Posted by anaglyph under Cow Matters, CowBlogTech
[4] Comments
Cow-o-philes all: I have had to activate Word Verification on TCA Comments owing to a huge overnight spamming of The Cow. I know this impinges somewhat on the spontaneity of the quick quip, but I ask your forbearance; mopping up the puerile drivel of the spammers this morning was, I think, the e-equivalent of hosing down the front porch after finding some drunken louts had pissed all over it during the night.
We now resume normal transmission.
Mon 5 Sep 2005
I don’t really, as you all know. But this is the name of an intriguing project by perfumer Christopher Brosius at CB I Hate Perfume. Brosius says of himself “I am an artist, and perfume is my medium”. One of his fascinations seems to be that of creating memories with perfumes and he claims to have successfully captured the scents of ‘Snow’ and ‘Skin’ (I think we can take it that he is speaking poetically) and is working on ‘Birthday Candles’ and ‘Puppy’.
Speaking of birthdays, September 27 is fast approaching, and I quite like the sound of ‘Mr. Hulot’s Holiday’ which is described as “the salty breath of the breeze off the sea, driftwood, rocks covered with seaweed and the smell of old leather suitcases”. What more could anyone want in a perfume? Or for a birthday present?
You can read reviews of a couple of the scents from CBIHP here on one of my favourite blogs Now Smell This.
Fri 2 Sep 2005
Posted by anaglyph under Music, Work
[14] Comments
Oooh. I’ve just come over all weak at the knees. Some kinda strange guy, Michael B. from foreign shores (ie the grand ol’ US of A) just wrote from out of the blue to tell me that he found my CD Houdini in the Apple iTunes Music Shop. This is news to me, ’cause I had no idea it was happening (that’s record companies for you). Seems like an opportune time for a plug then.
This is what people who aren’t just my friends and family have said about Houdini: [Link]
Sure, it’s in the Classical section (wha…?) and it looks like Michael made the first purchase, but heck, it’s better than being in the Bargain Bin at K-Mart (isn’t it?).
The Cow Instructs: Go buy it. Tell your friends to buy it. Tell them to tell their friends to buy it.
And rest secure in the knowledge that every cent of profit goes toward maintaining my single-malt whisky addiction.
Thu 1 Sep 2005
Posted by anaglyph under Brushes With Fame, Music
[9] Comments
Brushes With Fame #1: Debbie Reynolds
I sometimes meet famous people in the course of my work. It’s no big deal. Really. I’ve never been a wannabee starfucker, even when the opportunity presented itself, as it once did with Debbie Reynolds.
It was late 1981. I was working as an audio assistant on a big daytime TV talk show. It was my first paying job after I graduated from film school. Back then I had very long hair. Oh yeah, I was a post-hippy hippy for sure. There was no way I was going to cut that hair. It nearly got me sacked from that job in fact, but I digress.
Debbie was a guest on the show. I don’t remember much about why, or what she said, or anything else really, except for one little sliver of time in between two segments (we were live-to-air) when I was called on to pin a radio mic on her when she took the guest chair.
At the time I didn’t actually know much about her, I have to confess, other than that she was in ‘Singin’ in the Rain’ and that she was famous for having good legs. I fumbled with the mic as I tried to attach it to her coat.
“Have you ever thought of cutting that hair?’ she said to me.
“Er, no, not really,” said I, suavely.
“I bet if I got you in the bedroom I could convince you to cut it,” she said, quiet enough so only I could hear.
Eeeewww. She’s so old, I thought. ((Tangentially, her personal assistant was a good looking young man about my age. I’m just saying.))
She was 49, not too many years older than I am now.
Tue 30 Aug 2005
Posted by anaglyph under Love
[9] Comments
I’ve just sold my beautiful place in the mountains, the Treehouse. I feel sadness, and loss, and inexplicable loneliness because it’s like I have cut the last tangible link to my lovely Kate. Treehouse was our dream, the place we made together and the place where we both thought we would grow old together.
It is pointless me keeping it. I thought I might be OK with it at one time, but I’ve realised that I simply can’t go there without feeling a powerful melancholy and longing for the things that will no longer make up my future. It is not the same place any longer.
We owned it for nearly eight years. Those years were made up of black starry skies with shooting stars that Kate always somehow missed seeing. Ferocious August winds. Rain on our iron roof that brought sleep like no other. Possums on the verandah, and bats in the bedroom. Rosellas on the fishpond and the stocky little Sacred Kingfisher on the Viewing Tree. Campari and blood orange in tall glasses in summer. Ardbeg and dark chocolate by the fire in winter. The scent of lemon gums, of woodsmoke, of eucalyptus, of wattle. The sounds of cicadas and frogs and currawongs and windswept casuarinas. Full moons. April Fool’s jokes. Day long barbecues. Mahjongg and jigsaw puzzles. And friends. Many lovely, loyal and fabulous friends.
We planted over one and a half thousand trees there. I promised I would plant one more for Kate, with her ashes. But when we talked about that she never thought I’d sell the Treehouse because she knew how much I loved it. And now I don’t want to leave her with strangers.
It’s time for bed now, and another night of restless sleep.
Sun 28 Aug 2005
Posted by anaglyph under Ephemera, Geek, Science
[6] Comments
I really like codes and ciphers and hidden messages.
When I was a kid my friends and I would exchange sheets of blank white paper with secret messages laboriously written out in lemon juice, invisible to casual scrutiny until you held the note over a lit candle. The heat of the flame would coax the words to appear in a satisfyingly aged-looking sepia hue accompanied by the acrid acidic smell of scorched citrus. How clever we felt. No-one could know our secrets!
These days the art of codes and ciphers – “cryptography” as it is more seriously known – is more or less the domain of the very very smart, involving complex and sophisticated concepts and lots of computer power. I have trouble understanding how to even implement something like PGP, let alone having the vaguest clue how it works.
I really like a lot of things about the modern world. Unlike Dennis Wilson, I think I was made for these times. But sometimes I long for the days of simple cleverness where a cool idea could be executed with ingredients from the kitchen cupboard.
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