Etiquette

Here followeth a few extracts from Etiquette: Rules and Usages of the Best Society first published in 1886 by People's Publishing Company (Melbourne). No author is credited.

On greeting acquaintances in the street
"The custom which has become quite prevalent of women kissing each other whenever they meet in public is regarded as vulgar, and by ladies of delicacy and refinement is entirely avoided."

On Anecdotes, puns and repartees
"Anecdotes should be seldom brought into a conversation. Puns are always regarded as vulgar. Repartee should be indulged in with moderation, and never kept up, as it degenerates into the vulgarity of an altercation."

On Eyelashes
"A beautiful eyelash is an importand adjunct to the eye. The lashes may be lengthened by trimming them occasionally in childhood. Care should be taken that this trimming is done neatly and evenly, and especially that the points of the scissors do not penetrate the eye."

On Eyebrows meeting
"Some persons have the eyebrows meeting over the nose. This is usally conjsidered a disfigurement, but there is no remedy for it. It may be a consolation for such people to know that the ancients admired this style of eyebrows, and that Michael Angelo [sic] possessed it. It is useless to pluck out the uniting hairs; and if a depilatory is applied a mark like that of a scar left from a burn remains, and is more disfiguring than the hair."

This is just one of the many books i procured at the Regent Theatre's 24 hour book sale earlier this year. I have scarce had time to look at any of them until now. Next on my agenda is The Mill on the Floss (George Eliot) which I have been meaning to read for many years.

Activities of late...

• Reading She came to stay (L'Inviteé) by Simone de Beauvoir.

So far Xaviere is a petulant child. I do hope her character develops otherwise I will find her irksome for the rest of the novel.

• Buying Shoes

I bought a charming pair of bright yellow round toed kitten heeled shoes from No 1. The price was right... what can I say? That brings total of days at home to 13, and total shoe purchases to 3. That's equivelant to a pair of shoes every 4.3 days. That's pretty good, even for me!

• Learning music

Erinnerung, Hans und Grethe, and Wer hat dies Liedlein erdacht, three lieder by Mahler. I am in love with the harmonies of Errinerung, and Hans und Grethe even pops up to high C twice. I must admit that Mahler's lieder are a new discovery for me and are so wonderfully rich and meaty; they are definitely something to sink one's vocal teeth into. Am also contemplating Ablösung im Sommer and Scheiden und Meiden (both also Mahler).

• Semi-thoroughly tidying my room

The house got recarpeted a few months ago and everything was chucked out of my room and placed back haphazardly. Things which aren't even mine have found residence in here, which annoys me greatly. I am throwing them into the hallway. HA.

• Having a birthday

I am now officially a year older. I have taken it well. Sorry Nana fans, no gray hairs or crows feet to report as of yet.

• Listening to Cuban music

Ibrahim Ferrer, and the Cuban Allstars rock my Cuban world baby.

The glories of late 80s music

I'm listening to Cyndi Lauper. I LOVE Cyndi Lauper. She has been around since my earliest musical memories, which involve both her and Madonna's 'Like a Prayer' which i choreographed a dance to when it first came out in 1989, which would have made me 5. It was what I'd retrospectively call an interpretative dance, beginning with me crouched, hands over head, slowly rising during the introduction to run around in a little circle, then stand as though cast out of my circle at the words 'everyone must stand alone.' I followed this with the obligatory hands praying gesture while looking heavenward, then dramatically falling to my knees at the words "I'm down on my knees." The memory grows blurry at this point, but i'm sure the rest was equally fabulous.

Anyway, back to Cyndi. I owned cassette albums of both She's so unusual and Night to remember. Unfortunately I no longer have these tapes and the albums only exist on my harddrive. It's just not the same. One cassette i do still have though is my original CASSINGLE of 'locomotion' by Kylie. It's a bright red tape which has the same four remixes of locomotion on each side. I remember telling Dad that the sides were different just to hear them all again when we were driving from Brisbane to Sydney when I had first got the tape. God that must have driven my parents mad. I think I was 4 or 5 at this stage. The tape still works. I can vouch for that. Although I must state for the record that i have most certainly not put it on recently and sung along karaoke style. Note to self: Sing Locomotion next time at drunken Karaoke. I wonder if my Kylie cassingle would be a collector's item on ebay yet? Hmm... possibly, there is only one listing for it on ebay. Give it a few more years and i'll be sitting on a veritifiable goldmine!

BTW - Tourism, next time ur online remind me to send you Cyndi's version of 'When you were mine.' It's not exactly Tegan and Sara but it's interesting! :D

Got Milk?

Well for a long time I didn't. In fact for approximately the last eight years I have shunned milk as an inferior beverage fit only for small calves ruthlessly yanked away from their milk-producing mothers to make tasty tasty veal. But, this year has been one of revelations and milk (to my surprise) is one of the most recent. It's been So Good this and Vitasoy that on my cereal for the last (almost) decade and now... all of a sudden... its milk. Not soymilk.. just milk. My mother is horrified that I have taken a liking to the blue top stuff. Ohh how I bring shame and dishonour upon my family by relegating the green top to the back of the fridge and sneakily sneaking blue top into the shopping trolley...

I think I'll go have some milk. :)

Tutto Bene!

I had the most divine evening last night at the fantastic Italiano restaurant Tutto Bene in Merivale. Now David had raved about this place and I must admit that I thought him overzealous. Wow. Was I wrong or what?!

First of all the waiters are hot and Italian. They even talk about opera! Ours reminisced about seeing Aida under the light of a full moon in the Arena di Verona! What a way to win a girl's heart...

The food was utterly divine. I was not allowed to order for myself; D saw to that. Spicy chicken meatball bolognese type thing, which was tasty, but the best was yet to come. We drank a bottle of Italian Sauvignon with dinner... made by the descendents of Petrach no less. Now that is what I call class and aristocracy! The Sauvignon was interesting, quite different to any NZ sauvignon that I've ever had to date. It definitely complimented the pasta and was very easy to drink.

Dessert Wine. Dear God. I can't remember the name of it which is driving me mad, but it was from Sicily. There is no superlative to express my utter pleasure. It was as though a thousand tiny bees were dropping wild honey onto my tongue, wild honey which they had made from sweet scented apricot blossoms. My senses were actually overwhelmed by this small glass of sweet nectar. It is what I imagine the Gods to drink. It was without doubt the most exciting and memorable glass of wineI have ever had in my life. Words actually fail me in trying to describe it. I believe I used the word orgasmic on the comment sheet.

Dessert was no less amazing. D had a strawberry gelato with orange liquer soaked strawberries, whilst i reveled in a vanilla panna cotta. It looked unassuming but mon dieu, what delicate flavours. The aftertaste of cinnamon in each creamy vanilla mouthful, coupled with the apricot-blossom-wild-honey-nectar-of-Gods wine drove my senses into actual overload. I nearly wept. The fact that we had devoured the bottle of Sauvignon quite quickly may have had something to do with this...

I need to return to Tutto Bene. I need to return very soon. I want to once again flirt with the Italian waiters, admire the cute red and white checked tablecloths, weep with joy at the creamy billows of the panna cotta and sup from that Sicilian cup of the Gods.

We must return soon David. Very, very very soon.

Cello Art

Isn't this beautiful? It's by Denise Morris Curt. I want it! It could be mine for the low low price of US$1200. I do so desire beautiful artworks. Oh my tortured artistic soul...

Random exploits of today

So I managed to leave the house today and brave my way into Christchurch, which is no small feat after two years of living in Dunedin. I actually hate the city. I hate the traffic. I hate how long it takes to get anywhere. And i hate the fact that driving around all day gives me a headache!

It was my friend Hugo's end of year cello recital today. He played Bach's Cello Suite in Eb Major BWV 1010, followed by Concerto No. 2 in D Major by Haydn. Overall I enjoyed the Haydn more, but the Bach certainly had many beautiful moments. The last movement, the Gigue, was a highlight. The Haydn first and third movements were fantastic, especially the cadenza in the former. It's always exciting hearing someone when you haven't heard them for a while. The improvement is amazing and not something you notice when you hear them frequently. Watching Hugo's playing is almost like intruding on a very private moment. His head falls back, he breathes deeply and his eyes rolls back, before closing. It's really the equivelant of a musical orgasm. And you have to admit that the cello definitely tops the list of sexual instruments. Sure, the bassoon is more phallic, but you don't grasp it between your thighs. Hmm, I'm a little too excited... moving on.

After Hugo's recital it was time to pick up the stinky sister from 'school.' I use the term school loosely as today all she did was go to Orana Park and feed giraffes and look at rhinos and lions etc. I had a rather long chat to Mr Langdon and Mrs Allison, my two fabulous music teachers from school, which was nice. Still had ages to kill before dropping off aforementioned stinky sister at drama so we went to Christchurch's newest and biggest Warehouse on Blenheim Rd. The CD selection was APPALLING! Never in my life have I seen such a poorly stocked classical CD section. Grrr. I picked up 2 albums anyway. Cuban Festival (for moi), a compilation of Cuban music, which features Benny More and Los Van Van among others. I adore latin music after taking a latin american ethnomusicology paper in 2003 and always try to be on the lookout for it. I like the 'authentic' music like Cuban Allstars and Buena Vista guys; i hate that neo-ethno sound. For the stinky sister i bought a compilation CD of opera arias because I am trying to increase her musical appreciation. I've already bought her a Fledermaus with Gruberova and an album of Vivaldi bassoon concerti to inspire her and (hopefully) make her practise that phallic instrument of hers. lol.

After the boring CD selection we went to the Sunson Gift and Asia Food Marketon Greers Rd. We were the only non-asians. It's strange being a minority in your predominately white country... mmmhmmm. I desperately wanted the lychee jellies that Pei-Ying-a-ling addicted me to a few years back, but alas they were nowhere to be found. I had to content myself with Ma Hwa Cookies which claim to contain sesame, which taste like sesame, but feature no sesame anywhere on the ingredient list. They are (suspiciously) yummy. I also found an incredibly amusing drink by the name of Pocari Sweat. I was tempted to buy it purely for amusement value, but in the end decided i just couldnt drink something that contained the word 'sweat' in its title. Mmmm Delish!

Thus endeth my boring day. I must go check on the turkey that i am trying to roast. I am no domestic Goddess. It will probably turn out terribly.

To infinity... and beyond!

I just noticed a split infinitive in my Traumatic Drunk Experiences post. I am too lazy to change it.

I like grammar :D

Packing and Cleaning

Well, My room is halfway packed up for the end of the year. I've been packing in an on and off fashion for the last 3 and a bit hours. Progress is being made however, albeit slowly. Anyway, it's terribly boring so i've decided to have a quick check-my-email-and-post-mindless-things-on-blog type break.

A hall of residence, when empty, is a strange place. Kind of surreal. I'm sure I don't remember it being this weird at teh start of the year before all the firsties arrived. I guess I've just become used to the constant noise and being surrounded by people all the time. Home always seems so quiet and depressing in comparison. Especially now when one's life seems to be more in Dunedin than Christchurch. Ahh well, only 9 weeks then I'm back in the middle of it all and probably wondering where my short summer went. Note to self: start learning the Salieri NOW, not the week before you're s'posed to start rehearsals. Oh God.. I just had a thought, that means no drinking during O week. Grrrr.

It's my bday soon. I'm not too worried about this one actually. 20 was traumatic. It took me a good three months or so to deal with the fact that I was no longer a teenager. Turning 21 wasn't so bad though; it was fun in fact. Mind you, the massive 21st probably helped with that, and the fact that I was the centre of attention and received lots of presents. I must admit i like both of those things, but probably enjoy the former more. Haha, is that too terribly atttention seeking?

I have prepared myself for the looming 22 on the horizon though. I have already mentally adjusted my age in fact. Have to keep reminding myself than I am still 21. I expect I shall have another mini-crisis when i hit 25. I shall deal with it by being terribly drunk no doubt.

By the way, if anyone feels like buying me a present I do so desperately want this.

There is no depression in New Zealand

There is no depression in New Zealand
There are no sheep on our farms
There is no depression in New Zealand
We can all keep perfectly calm

Everybody's talking about WWIII
Yes, everybody's talking about WWIII
But we're as safe as safe as can be
There's no unrest in this country

We have no dole queues
We have no drug addicts
We have no racism
We have no sexism, sexism no no..

There is no depression in New Zealand
There are no teeth in our hens
There is no depression in NZ
We sleep in a well made bed

Oh well everybody's talking about WWIII
Yes, everybody's talking about WWIII
But we're as safe as safe can be
There's no unrest in this country

We have no SIS
We have no secrets
We have no rebellion
We have no valium, valium, no no...

There is no depression in New Zealand
There are no sheep on our farms
There is no depression in New Zealand
OH! We can all keep perfectly calm... perfectly calm... perfectly calm...

1981. Blam Blam Blam (McGlashan/Von Sturmer).

Traumatic Drunk Experiences

I feel severely traumatised right now. I don't think I can talk about. I'll talk about yesterday instead.

God... why is alcohol so evil? I should have listened to that hot born again christian in the octagon yesterday. His name was Rakesh. He was uber hot. He told me God could take away the lust for alcohol and drugs... We met in the octagon. We chatted for oh.. about 40 minutes while I was waiting for a certain person to arrive to meet me. Anyway, Rakesh said that four years ago he became a born again christian, was baptised and received the holy spirit. I thought that was cool. Then he told me that he spoke in tongues. I mean... wicked! Who wouldn't want to speak in tongues?!? lol. We chatted for ages. I was a bit.. hmm under the influence so didn't care too much. It was a great theological debate. A vast cosmological mishmash of philosophy, religion and history. He talked about prophets. I talked about the Englightenment. He talked about Elijah. I talked about Mendelssohn.

He said that all Muslims were crap. I like muslims. Especially hilarious muslims like our friend (whom i shall call N.), who last night confessed what a terrible muslim she was because a)she likes sleeping with random boys. b)ate bacon. c)likes alcohol. d)wears short skirts and e) eats during the fasting hours of Ramadan. N. also taught me a new word. HARAM! That means bad, it's something you shouldn't do... like..

Person A: N. likes alcohol.
Person B: That's Haram!

Deary deary me.. where on earth is this post going? Can someone please tell me that i ought to not get drunk and go on the internet when i get home. I mean, sure it makes for interesting reading the next day, but it's just all around embarrassing really.

My sincerest apologies for inFLICKting myself on you, on blogspot, and the rest of the known universe.

"Life is a cabaret old chum!"

So I'm listening to Punishing Kiss by Ute Lemper. Caroline gave it to me yesterday as we had coffee and drinkies at the Staff Club of the university. It's awfully posh up there... clearly where our fees go. I'm only up to track 5 so far, but to be honest I think I much prefer it when she sings auf Deutsch. It's far more exciting.

Another Ute album I have is Berlin Cabaret songs, which she released in both English and German. I bought the German version, natürlich. It's a fabulous album which I adore, probably due to its intensely decadent and erotic 1930s Berlin ambience. The full and detailed liner notes are particularly interesting, giving heaps of information on how Cabaret flourished during the shortlived Weimar Republic (1918-1933) with composers such as Mischa Spolianksy and Friedrich Hollaender. The album is part of a series called Entartete Musik which London/Decca have released to illustrate music suppressed by the third reich, which I feel is a particularly worthwhile cause.

Sex and politics are undoubtedly the two main themes of the album. Songs such as Raus mit den Männern strike a blow for women's rights with lyrics such as:

Raus mit den Männern aus dem Reichstag,
Und raus mit den Männern aus dem Landtag,
Und raus mit den Männern aus dem Herrenhaus,
Wir machen draus ein Frauenhaus!

Another song, Ich bin ein Vamp! even makes fun of Hitler's moustache! (You can see why they call it Entartete Musik!!!)

The 20s in Berlin were pretty damn liberal in terms of sexuality as well, and many of these songs are distinctly LGBT in character. Wenn die beste Freundin is a song about a Hausfrau who gets rid of her husband and runs away with her best friend. Das lila Lied is a strong statement of gay rights and in fact... here is a link with the song and the lyrics in English/Deutsch. One other hilarious track on the cd is Maskulinum - Femininum which tells of a cross dressing couple who eventually have "einen kleinen Hermaphrodit!" Sehr süß oder?

Anyway Ute is divine; the album is great. I always have been a sucker for cabaret though...

1960s Hitler

Continuing the German theme of the post above I'd just like to comment quickly on how hilarious my friend was this afternoon when i called her. To paraphrase: "I love gypsies but I HATE hippies. I wish Hitler had been around in the 1960s. He would've gotten rid of them all." By the way, my apologies for calling you a short psychic hobo chicken tonight and then threatening to beat you with your own high heeled shoe... :S

The secret life of an RA

I, emphasis on the word _I_, am a RESIDENTIAL ASSISTANT. O Joy, O Rapture Unforseen! Residential Assistants, or RA's (as the cool people like to call them), are strange individuals. We decide to save some money by torturing ourselves going back to a hall of residence to live with a bunch of barely-left-school first year university students.

Sweet Jesus Mother of God.

This year HAS been fun though. I mean sure, it's had its crap moments, but i've also met some fantastically cool people that I would never have known otherwise. RA's aren't all just confiscate your alcohol this and give you a fine for being noisy that, we're people too.. honest. We get grumpy. We get drunk. We do things we're really not meant to... *ahem* Actually, I can't say anything too incriminating on here can I? So as I was saying: We are perfect examples of everything good, sweet and kind, and practically perfect in every way. We are exemplary models of self-discipline, sobriety, mental health, motivation, responsibility, patience and maturity, as well as having impeccable study habits. We are NOT misanthropes. Honest!

So I was on duty last night. 2.30am I receive a phone call... "Why hello campus security. No I didn't know our laundry door was not locked properly. Thank you SOOooOOOooOOO much for waking me up by ringing to tell me." Perhaps you heard my irate mutters reverberating over the entire city.

I am very verbose tonight. Some of you will know why. Not a WORD you saucy stastistician of sublime stature!

Possums. Sparrows. Leaves. Bark.

Possums, Sparrows, Leaves, Bark.
Sometimes they are all the same thing.
Irrational paranoia becomes me.
The light delights lightning,
likewise, my retinas burn.

And THAT my friends, is a poem.

So, rhetorical question time. How does an RA keep him or herself sane? I have asked myself this question a few times. I have come up with several RA categories.

The-so-cool-I'm-never-even-here-RA

This RA frequently infrequents the Hall. Perhaps s/he likes to live at his/her partner's flat. Perhaps they like to 'hang' with their old flatmates. On the rare occasion that a first year sees this RA they a)cannot remember their name or b)does not recognise them as an RA, rendering the aforementioned RA powerless against the wiles of teh wily firstyear. Sometimes this RA turns into...

The-RA-who-was

This RA gets fed up with being an RA, perhaps due to being powerless against the wiles of teh wily firstyear, and deicdes to pack up and move out during the year.

The-RA-who-self-medicates

Ever see one of those RA's who is just NEVER sober. Or when they are it's because they're baked? Some RA's feel the need to use substances to keep their sanity amongst the carnage that is a hall of residence.

The-RA(s)-who-are-dirty-bastards-and-enjoy-a-bit-o'-whippin'-on-the-side

This (or these), RA's cope with life as an RA by becoming incredibly dirty. Everything is dirty. The squeakiest, cleanest comment from a devout Catholic can be made dirty with a simple leering grin and wink of the eye. This (or these) RA's do not care in front of whom they spout their depraved and disgusting thoughts. They enjoy scaring the first years. They enjoy scarring the first years. They enjoy the fact that everyone thinks they're just plain DISGUSTING.

***

I'm sure there are other RA categories... y'know like the enthustiastic ones who enjoy organising fun and exciting activities for the social, mental, physical and spiritual amelioration of the first year. PFNARRR.

Sad as it sounds... I DO like being an RA. Am i weird? Do I really want that question answered?

And just to settle that age-old question: YES! The RA bar was specifically designed for us. :p

love and puppies,
your exceedingly,
(Melo)Dramatic Soprano

Epiphany!

I have just decided this blog is NOT about music!

I do that all day, every day.

How passe.

Things I Like...

Random list of things I like right at the moment... in no particular order! ;)

*Claire when she is intoxicated
*Tegan and Sara
*Flick
*Dunedin
*No. 1 Shoe Warehouse Shoes (Yes, I'm cheap ok!)
*Singing
*My fave first year
*Dita von Teese
*Himmel über Berlin
*Siska's slowly dying NZ Tree. Love it Siska! It needs you!
*Expensive wine
*Myself
*Anais Nin
*Mr Rutherford
*Tabitha and Bella
*A Clockwork Orange
*Coffee from A Budgie called Harry

Summer!

I had my last exam today. The one that Der Steppenwolf by Hesse was making a large appearance in. Well... much to my dismay it featured a passage which i just couldn't place. Ahh well, my own fault. The rest of the exam wasn't quite so bad... and now I am gloriously free for the next 9 weeks or so. Tomorrow I'm going to see Judy for some new repertoire. Exciting!!! Have no idea what she will be giving me, but it will be good to get my teeth into something new. Even though I didn't feel as musically prepared as I should have for my end of year recital, I really don't want to rehash old stuff. It just seems so anticlimactic and boring.

In other news Sarah from Prima La Musica said a few nice things about the Sunshine concert that Claire, Fiona and I sang at.

Anyway, I do feel like celebrating the end of exams, but unfortunately am working tonight and on Thursday. Grrr!

Natural Fabulosity.

The concert today went reasonably well. There was a decent sized audience, with several of my first year girls along to see me which was very sweet. As for Flicky and Siska, well you really had no choice. Haha. I've decided that singing (as well as any performance art or sport) is pretty much a mind game. 75% state of mind:20% hard work: 5% talent. Or something along those lines. I'm glad I've realised this as I used to work myself into such a state before i sang. Now I can feel exhilirated and full of adrenaline, but fewer of the knee-crippling, leg-shaking, can't-breathe, this-is-going-to-be-terrible type of nerves. Those are not fun.

My Smetana aria felt a little disjointed today. It's the first act aria that Marenka sings to Jenicku: Kdybych se co takoveho. Although I think my czech pronunciation came across better than it did in my end of year recital on the 2nd. There was also no slip of words in Non piu di fiori, Vitellia's aria from La Clemenza di Tito. I'd felt a little trepitdation in singing it after my recital but without the added (albeit wonderful) distraction of the clarinet it was back to the usual Tom and I pairing which made things a lot easier. The natural fabulosity of the aria was somewhat tempered by the fact that i completely tensed my jaw as i neared the end, meaning that my high A came out sounding slightly more like a strangled chicken than a (melo)dramatic soprano.

Live and learn.

Fireworks over the city

So right now if i look out my window i can see fireworks going off over the entire city. It's rather beautiful, but eerie as i can't hear a sound that they're making. I should be reading Der Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse, seeing as it is going to make a large appearance in my looming German literature/history/philosophy/film paper. Ho Hum. Failing that, i ought to be in bed as I'm singing in a concert tomorrow. Titled The Sunshine Concert, it entails a scholarship of NZ$1000 for a fourth year music student. It's held every year in memorial for a musician, a clarinet player (i think), who died while mountain climbing. I did have a programme which told me more about it but have managed to mislay it... Hell i just show up and sing, no-one tells me any details! My lovely Claire-chen is singing too. Damn her, she gets to have fun with "The Tipsy Song" from La Perichole by Offenbach. Much more exciting than my rather dry Mozart aria from La Clemenza di Tito. Ahh well, enough of procrastination... back to my wanktacular German novel. Bloody Harry and his existentialist crises!