I feel gormless. The word popped into my head as I was looking for a catchy headline, and upon further investigation, it fits me to a tee.
I need a nap. Not a long one, just a week or so. That would cover it, I reckon.
Its not work, I don't think. Last week was productive. I engaged my colleague more than I have, and we completed a fairly significant task. On Friday, I even sketched out an approach for the next task; I was content that it had been a good week. This week is not, thus far, so good - finding it hard to get going - but it is young, and I hold hopes.
I don't think its the weekend. It was a good weekend. On Saturday morning, Mick and I had a late breakfast at Atomica and headed up the coast to Marcoola, picking up essentials like an iPod car adapter and a pair of bodgy-looking sunnies, on the way. There, we had a walk on the beach, a beer or two, and a few board games with Jesse, Ali, Afe and Trish. On Sunday we even ignored the grey sky and greyer surf to have a swim that was surprisingly satisfying.
I got home just in time to see the last quarter of the Lions losing to Melbourne. Maybe that was it - didn't enjoy that.
Probably, though, I've been staying up too late. Doing nothing can drag on late into the night.
One way or another, gormless. Lacking in gorm.
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Monday, 23 June 2008
golf at nudgee
Bright and early Saturday morning, 4 young lads headed out to Nudgee for a round of golf. Clockwise from top-left, Jim, Neil, Jesse and Ross. We played an ambrose, because it was Neil's first 18-hole outing, and matchplay, to add some competition. Neil and I ended up winning 3-and-2.
This hole, the 18th, is the prettiest hole on the course, a 155-metre par 3 flying over water and front bunkers.
Monday, 16 June 2008
Interesting weekend.
Quite a weekend.
On Friday night, a few of us met up at Mick's place for a few drinks before heading to the German Club for beer and wine festival, replete with nice beers, bratwurst, pretzels and yodelling.
On Saturday afternoon, Lachy had a party for his 30th, starting at the cricket club around 2pm and finishing, in my case at least, at the Regatta around 1am. This included some weird encounters, including being approached by some random chick (which happens to other people, not to me), for a chat about Nabakov, Steinbeck and Graham Greene.
The plan on Sunday was to ride out to the DSTC barbeque at 17-mile rocks. 10 hours of drinking the day before, however, proved an inappropriate preparation for a long ride (to be remembered for next time), so I licked my wounds on the couch and watched the US Open golf and Collingwood-Carlton.
This week is a busy one - paper reviews due, and a visit from our boss/industry partner including delivery of the first alpha version of our tool.
On Friday night, a few of us met up at Mick's place for a few drinks before heading to the German Club for beer and wine festival, replete with nice beers, bratwurst, pretzels and yodelling.
On Saturday afternoon, Lachy had a party for his 30th, starting at the cricket club around 2pm and finishing, in my case at least, at the Regatta around 1am. This included some weird encounters, including being approached by some random chick (which happens to other people, not to me), for a chat about Nabakov, Steinbeck and Graham Greene.
The plan on Sunday was to ride out to the DSTC barbeque at 17-mile rocks. 10 hours of drinking the day before, however, proved an inappropriate preparation for a long ride (to be remembered for next time), so I licked my wounds on the couch and watched the US Open golf and Collingwood-Carlton.
This week is a busy one - paper reviews due, and a visit from our boss/industry partner including delivery of the first alpha version of our tool.
Monday, 2 June 2008
A weekend where two sports was quite enough
This weekend past held promise of a lot of sport. The Lions were playing North on Friday night, the Brissie to the Bay bike ride was on Sunday morning, and the Socceroos were playing Iraq on Sunday night.
Normally I'd look forward to such a weekend, but this Friday I was relieved when I got an email from the Brissie to the Bay folks saying that the ride had been cancelled due to "anticipated high winds and rain". I was home sick on Friday (and am again today) with a cold, and the prospect of a 7am ride in the rain and wind wasn't really appealing. Doubly so, since it was likely to bookended by trips to watch football, also probably in the rain.
In the end, it didn't really rain at either the footy or the soccer, which made both much more pleasant. The footy was a good game, with the Lions winning comfortably, but in a game that never lost its intensity (as the Lions' games against the Demons, Blues and Saints had). We were losing most of the ruck taps (MacIntosh is a quality ruckman), but winning a lot of ball out of the centre. Up forward, Brown and Bradshaw were marking everything that came their way, and although the former struggled with accuracy early, they kicked 6 each for the second straight week.
The soccer wasn't quite so satisfying.
The socceroos were ragged. Their shabby defense in the first half gifted Iraq a number of very good opportunities that they failed to grasp, and the lack of a true socceroo centre half really hurt them throughout the night. Kewell played well, but is no Viduka when it comes to holding up the ball on the top of the box, and no Kennedy when it comes to providing a target for crosses, notwithstanding his very good headed goal in the second half. Djite came on late to fill the role, but he spent his time fiddling about on the wing, which was less than useful. Despite dominating possession and playing well in the midfield, there are problems in defense and in attack (both of which can be partly explained by missing personnel - Neill, Viduka, Kennedy, etc).
I was once again very frustrated by the softness of the game, with lots of soft free kicks from the referees, and diving from the players.
There were 22 000 at the Lions' game, and 48 000 at the soccer, which as far as I'm concerned was completely out of whack with the quality of the spectacles.
As for the bike ride, it has been postponed, and the organisers have yet to set a new date. My apologies to those who have sponsored me (although obviously the money is far from wasted). I will post here when I find out the new date. In the meantime, if anyone wants to sponsor me, for a ride at an unknown date, they can still do so here. All monies go to the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Queensland.
Normally I'd look forward to such a weekend, but this Friday I was relieved when I got an email from the Brissie to the Bay folks saying that the ride had been cancelled due to "anticipated high winds and rain". I was home sick on Friday (and am again today) with a cold, and the prospect of a 7am ride in the rain and wind wasn't really appealing. Doubly so, since it was likely to bookended by trips to watch football, also probably in the rain.
In the end, it didn't really rain at either the footy or the soccer, which made both much more pleasant. The footy was a good game, with the Lions winning comfortably, but in a game that never lost its intensity (as the Lions' games against the Demons, Blues and Saints had). We were losing most of the ruck taps (MacIntosh is a quality ruckman), but winning a lot of ball out of the centre. Up forward, Brown and Bradshaw were marking everything that came their way, and although the former struggled with accuracy early, they kicked 6 each for the second straight week.
The soccer wasn't quite so satisfying.
The socceroos were ragged. Their shabby defense in the first half gifted Iraq a number of very good opportunities that they failed to grasp, and the lack of a true socceroo centre half really hurt them throughout the night. Kewell played well, but is no Viduka when it comes to holding up the ball on the top of the box, and no Kennedy when it comes to providing a target for crosses, notwithstanding his very good headed goal in the second half. Djite came on late to fill the role, but he spent his time fiddling about on the wing, which was less than useful. Despite dominating possession and playing well in the midfield, there are problems in defense and in attack (both of which can be partly explained by missing personnel - Neill, Viduka, Kennedy, etc).
I was once again very frustrated by the softness of the game, with lots of soft free kicks from the referees, and diving from the players.
There were 22 000 at the Lions' game, and 48 000 at the soccer, which as far as I'm concerned was completely out of whack with the quality of the spectacles.
As for the bike ride, it has been postponed, and the organisers have yet to set a new date. My apologies to those who have sponsored me (although obviously the money is far from wasted). I will post here when I find out the new date. In the meantime, if anyone wants to sponsor me, for a ride at an unknown date, they can still do so here. All monies go to the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Queensland.
Monday, 19 May 2008
a little golf
Of the three physical activity barometers I set myself at the start of the year, two - cycling and tennis - will almost certainly be achieved before I get to half-way. The third, golf, is behind the eight-ball, but I did put a dent in it this weekend.
I went up to Toowoomba to spend some time with my folks, and got out to golf with Dad on both Saturday and Sunday mornings.
On Saturday morning, we played 18 at Borneo Barracks. We teed off at 7:15am or so, and it was a beautiful morning. I had 94 (22-over), which was a couple more shots than I'd like, but still reasonable, particularly since it included a couple of drives sent onto and over the road. Dad had a fairly forgettable score.
On Sunday morning, we went and tried out Eustondale golf course, on the western outskirts of Toowoomba, for the first time. Once again we were away a bit after 7am, and this time the wind was in from the south-west, and it was pretty cold (about 5 degrees when we started, less with wind chill). The wind made the short par fours more challenging, and overall the course played reasonably well for a small course, with a couple of interesting holes. Dad and I were close all day, until I beat him on the last hole, 88 to 89. Once again, 22-over, since the course is just a short par-66.
Overall, I'd like to be able to play bogey golf (+18), but until I'm playing regularly, I only really expect +20-22, so I was reasonably happy with how I played. It was also really nice being out on the courses with Dad.
I went up to Toowoomba to spend some time with my folks, and got out to golf with Dad on both Saturday and Sunday mornings.
On Saturday morning, we played 18 at Borneo Barracks. We teed off at 7:15am or so, and it was a beautiful morning. I had 94 (22-over), which was a couple more shots than I'd like, but still reasonable, particularly since it included a couple of drives sent onto and over the road. Dad had a fairly forgettable score.
On Sunday morning, we went and tried out Eustondale golf course, on the western outskirts of Toowoomba, for the first time. Once again we were away a bit after 7am, and this time the wind was in from the south-west, and it was pretty cold (about 5 degrees when we started, less with wind chill). The wind made the short par fours more challenging, and overall the course played reasonably well for a small course, with a couple of interesting holes. Dad and I were close all day, until I beat him on the last hole, 88 to 89. Once again, 22-over, since the course is just a short par-66.
Overall, I'd like to be able to play bogey golf (+18), but until I'm playing regularly, I only really expect +20-22, so I was reasonably happy with how I played. It was also really nice being out on the courses with Dad.
Brissie to the Bay ride
On Friday I signed up for the Brissie to the Bay Bike Ride, a 50km charity ride in aid of Multiple Sclerosis.
This ride, like Movember, has a nice signup process that provides a web page for accepting and tracking donations. There is also a facility for sending emails soliciting donations. Both of these are very cheap to set up, and I reckon make for a very convenient way for people to both get a little bit of information about the charity, and more importantly to donate.
So, here is part of the solicitation text they gave me. Please feel free to donate.
Did you know?
Please take a moment to view my online fundraising page and help me reach my goal. It is easy and will take no time at all, just <donate online via your credit card by clicking here.
All information is secure and all donations will be sent electronically to Multiple Sclerosis Society of Queensland. A tax deductible receipt will be sent to your inbox once the donation is verified.
Multiple Sclerosis is a disease of the central nervous system affecting more young adult Australians than any other neurological condition. Your donation will go towards providing a wide range of equipment, support and services to those people affected by this horrible disease.
Your support is greatly appreciated.
UPDATE: I've had to happily revise my original target of $100 upwards to $300, having reached the original amount a half-hour posting this :)
This ride, like Movember, has a nice signup process that provides a web page for accepting and tracking donations. There is also a facility for sending emails soliciting donations. Both of these are very cheap to set up, and I reckon make for a very convenient way for people to both get a little bit of information about the charity, and more importantly to donate.
So, here is part of the solicitation text they gave me. Please feel free to donate.
Did you know?
- The average diagnosis of MS is 30 years old.
- 3 times more women than men are affected by MS.
- 5 people are told they have MS every working day.
Please take a moment to view my online fundraising page and help me reach my goal. It is easy and will take no time at all, just <donate online via your credit card by clicking here.
All information is secure and all donations will be sent electronically to Multiple Sclerosis Society of Queensland. A tax deductible receipt will be sent to your inbox once the donation is verified.
Multiple Sclerosis is a disease of the central nervous system affecting more young adult Australians than any other neurological condition. Your donation will go towards providing a wide range of equipment, support and services to those people affected by this horrible disease.
Your support is greatly appreciated.
UPDATE: I've had to happily revise my original target of $100 upwards to $300, having reached the original amount a half-hour posting this :)
Thursday, 15 May 2008
pigs. flying around. in the sky.
The strangest thing happened last night - our tennis team won. I went down 6-4 in a pretty close set, somehow my partner (who plays an unconscionable style of tennis) won 6-0 (against someone whom I found out was a fill-in), and we won a lacklustre doubles 6-1.
The tennis, though, was of a much lower level than the previous outing, and consequently I enjoyed the cheap win much less than the honourable loss.
The tennis, though, was of a much lower level than the previous outing, and consequently I enjoyed the cheap win much less than the honourable loss.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Monday, 12 May 2008
Music without words
Tempted as I am to leave my Lucksmiths tribute post at the top of the page for a while, there is more to say!
One of the marked characteristics of my almost-year back in Australia has been a tendency to attend concerts that greatly exceeds my habits in either Rennes, or pre-Rennes Brisbane. Since returning, I've seen Dave Holland, Barney McAll, Gretchen Parlato, the Australian Chamber Orchestra, and the Lucksmiths, as well as gigs by Paul, Julz and Kylie. While that won't break any records, its an improvement.
Yesterday, on the back of my Lucksmiths night, I added to the list with the Griffith Trio, a classical piano/violin/cello combination, and their recital at the Conservatorium theatre, courtesy of Andy and his employers Dialog, who sponsor the group.
They opened with Beethoven's Archduke trio. To be honest, I found it fairly dull, which in hindsight is disappointing, as I have a bit of a soft spot for LvB. The instrumentation seemed thin, the passion of some of Beethoven's other works was conspicuously absent, and by the fourth movement, I was beginning to doze.
After a break, and a frankly horrible glass of what claimed to be "classic dry white", we returned to find a string quartet, minus piano, offering Puccini's Chrysanthemums. I enjoyed this piece much more. Whether it was the extra instruments or the writing, the thinness was gone, and the more modern piece was much more interesting in terms of harmonies and, dare I suggest, chords.
The final piece was Elgar's quintet. Like the Puccini, this was a more modern piece, and showed harmonies which reminded me a little of Debussy and Ravel, who I guess might have been contemporaries. There were parts which almost bordered on corny, where the piano turned almost stride-y, but on the whole, it was very nice.
Taken as a whole, the concert was by no means on a par with the Lucksmiths or the ACO, my previous two efforts. The first half suffered from what I consider to be the great detriments of classical music, but the second reminded me a little of what it can be when it is good.
One of the marked characteristics of my almost-year back in Australia has been a tendency to attend concerts that greatly exceeds my habits in either Rennes, or pre-Rennes Brisbane. Since returning, I've seen Dave Holland, Barney McAll, Gretchen Parlato, the Australian Chamber Orchestra, and the Lucksmiths, as well as gigs by Paul, Julz and Kylie. While that won't break any records, its an improvement.
Yesterday, on the back of my Lucksmiths night, I added to the list with the Griffith Trio, a classical piano/violin/cello combination, and their recital at the Conservatorium theatre, courtesy of Andy and his employers Dialog, who sponsor the group.
They opened with Beethoven's Archduke trio. To be honest, I found it fairly dull, which in hindsight is disappointing, as I have a bit of a soft spot for LvB. The instrumentation seemed thin, the passion of some of Beethoven's other works was conspicuously absent, and by the fourth movement, I was beginning to doze.
After a break, and a frankly horrible glass of what claimed to be "classic dry white", we returned to find a string quartet, minus piano, offering Puccini's Chrysanthemums. I enjoyed this piece much more. Whether it was the extra instruments or the writing, the thinness was gone, and the more modern piece was much more interesting in terms of harmonies and, dare I suggest, chords.
The final piece was Elgar's quintet. Like the Puccini, this was a more modern piece, and showed harmonies which reminded me a little of Debussy and Ravel, who I guess might have been contemporaries. There were parts which almost bordered on corny, where the piano turned almost stride-y, but on the whole, it was very nice.
Taken as a whole, the concert was by no means on a par with the Lucksmiths or the ACO, my previous two efforts. The first half suffered from what I consider to be the great detriments of classical music, but the second reminded me a little of what it can be when it is good.
I should be so Lucky...
My favourite band is The Lucksmiths.
This has probably been true for about 10 years now. There have been flirtations with the Dave Matthews Band, the Pat Metheny Group, and a few others, but when I really need to smile, there is nothing so reliably charming as the simple melodies and unassumingly delightful lyrics of the Melbourne pop group.
Time spent away from Australia can make otherwise banal Australian pop songs take on disproportionate emotional attachment, and I was no exception. But more than Flame Trees or Redgum, the music that most captured my nostalgic nationalism while overseas were Lucksmiths lyrics:
and, sung with the same Australian accent, genuine and yet untouched by the Ocker-ism too prevalent in Australia country music:
Thus it was with some excitement that I realised this week that the 'smiths were headed north, playing at the Jugglers' on Saturday night. I was joined there by known afficionados Matt and Marty, and curious and as it happened skeptical newcomer Andy.
The support band, the Bell Divers, were the same genre, but reminded me why I am not a generalist indy pop fan. Its hard to criticize them for being a new band, but the lack of clarity and assurance in their performance made it impossible to tell if their writing was the reason they were opening for the Lucksmiths.
The only previous time I had seen the Lucksmiths, they were essentially a trio. Their subsequent addition of a fourth member has changed the nature of their songs a little, if anything making them a little less twee and more popularly palatable. Certainly, as a live gig, they have a more dynamic presence, and "rock" more, than they did before adding Louis Richter.
What has not changed, though, is the quality of their writing. Their songs are pleasant, if simple, and serve their purpose well. Their lyrics, though, are quite probably the best I've come across in music, rivalled only perhaps by Bob Dylan (the comparison is unworthy, since the aims are not the same). I've probably posted this before, but so genuine was the grin that spread across my face when the set rolled around to what might be my favourite Lucksmiths wordsmithery...
Or it might not be. There are so many to choose from.
How this band can come to Brisbane and play to an audience of 40 people in a pleasant but, it must be said, very small venue, just defies my understanding. I might never see a better show with fewer people.
This has probably been true for about 10 years now. There have been flirtations with the Dave Matthews Band, the Pat Metheny Group, and a few others, but when I really need to smile, there is nothing so reliably charming as the simple melodies and unassumingly delightful lyrics of the Melbourne pop group.
Time spent away from Australia can make otherwise banal Australian pop songs take on disproportionate emotional attachment, and I was no exception. But more than Flame Trees or Redgum, the music that most captured my nostalgic nationalism while overseas were Lucksmiths lyrics:
It's getting worse
You've hardly said a word
Since you set eyes on the horizon
But I've seen the other side of that ocean there
And it can't compare
and, sung with the same Australian accent, genuine and yet untouched by the Ocker-ism too prevalent in Australia country music:
I spent the summer with the curtains drawn against it
Counting all the nights you’ve wasted
Under unfamiliar stars
...
Are you ever coming home?
Or should I learn to do without you?
Thus it was with some excitement that I realised this week that the 'smiths were headed north, playing at the Jugglers' on Saturday night. I was joined there by known afficionados Matt and Marty, and curious and as it happened skeptical newcomer Andy.
The support band, the Bell Divers, were the same genre, but reminded me why I am not a generalist indy pop fan. Its hard to criticize them for being a new band, but the lack of clarity and assurance in their performance made it impossible to tell if their writing was the reason they were opening for the Lucksmiths.
The only previous time I had seen the Lucksmiths, they were essentially a trio. Their subsequent addition of a fourth member has changed the nature of their songs a little, if anything making them a little less twee and more popularly palatable. Certainly, as a live gig, they have a more dynamic presence, and "rock" more, than they did before adding Louis Richter.
What has not changed, though, is the quality of their writing. Their songs are pleasant, if simple, and serve their purpose well. Their lyrics, though, are quite probably the best I've come across in music, rivalled only perhaps by Bob Dylan (the comparison is unworthy, since the aims are not the same). I've probably posted this before, but so genuine was the grin that spread across my face when the set rolled around to what might be my favourite Lucksmiths wordsmithery...
Though you kept me guessing and your distance
Were it not for my persistence
We would never have been lovers
You kept your distance and me guessing
Finally acquiescing only after I’d discovered
You kept the things I sent you
The lengths I went to
Or it might not be. There are so many to choose from.
How this band can come to Brisbane and play to an audience of 40 people in a pleasant but, it must be said, very small venue, just defies my understanding. I might never see a better show with fewer people.
Tuesday, 6 May 2008
250 progress
One of my ongoing quests has been to get through the IMDB Top 250 films of all time. I made solid progress on this in France, particularly while lame during the winter months, and advanced to around 205. I've been slowed a little since, only advancing about 10 films since coming back (its a moving target, so I've probably seen 15-20 films in that time). Yesterday, in an idle space, I got inspired and watched 3.
I have a bunch (about half) of films on the list that are old foreign films. These are intimidating for a number of reasons. They're not colour, the sound quality is often poor, and they're generally in 4:3 aspect ratio, which all combine to mean they're a little less immersive than post-1970 films. Mainly, though, they just require more concentration, either because I need to watch the subtitles, or because I need to concentrate to understand the French (there aren't many French entries left, actually).
Top of my list, then, was Le Notti De Cabiria, by Fellini. The previous Fellini film I'd seen was 8 1/2, but this one was very different, more reminiscent of De Sica's Ladri di Biciclette than of 8 1/2. The plot follows an Italian prostitute through a few days of her life, exploring aspects such as her work, life, religion, and relationships. The lead, Giulietta Masina, really makes the film work with a very charismatic and compassionate performance.
Next up was Stalag 17, by Billy Wilder. Wilder has even more films in the list (7, and it could easily be 8 with Ace In The Hole) than Fellini (4) - by my reckoning, only Hitchcock and Kubrick have more - and I've seen and quite enjoyed all but one (The Lost Weekend) of his others. Stalag 17, though, I found weak. The characters are, in general, thinly drawn, and the comedy really missed the mark for me. The plot winds along nicely enough, but its just lacking anything really substantial for me. Perhaps its greatest contribution is that it seems to have been the inspiration for Hogan's Heroes.
The third film was American Gangster, by Ridley Scott (also 4 films in the list). This was probably the longest film of the bunch, as is the nature of this genre (life-and-times/rise-and-fall film, a la Goodfellas, Blow, Once Upon A Time In America, There Will Be Blood most recently). The performances are pretty solid, although both Crowe and Washington have done better (which is no slight - they are two of the more capable actors working today). The script is solid, although not spectacular, but it does feel a little bit "been there before", and the ending felt a little bit non-sequitur and slightly corny.
I'm currently at 214, with about 16 or so waiting to be watched.
I have a bunch (about half) of films on the list that are old foreign films. These are intimidating for a number of reasons. They're not colour, the sound quality is often poor, and they're generally in 4:3 aspect ratio, which all combine to mean they're a little less immersive than post-1970 films. Mainly, though, they just require more concentration, either because I need to watch the subtitles, or because I need to concentrate to understand the French (there aren't many French entries left, actually).
Top of my list, then, was Le Notti De Cabiria, by Fellini. The previous Fellini film I'd seen was 8 1/2, but this one was very different, more reminiscent of De Sica's Ladri di Biciclette than of 8 1/2. The plot follows an Italian prostitute through a few days of her life, exploring aspects such as her work, life, religion, and relationships. The lead, Giulietta Masina, really makes the film work with a very charismatic and compassionate performance.
Next up was Stalag 17, by Billy Wilder. Wilder has even more films in the list (7, and it could easily be 8 with Ace In The Hole) than Fellini (4) - by my reckoning, only Hitchcock and Kubrick have more - and I've seen and quite enjoyed all but one (The Lost Weekend) of his others. Stalag 17, though, I found weak. The characters are, in general, thinly drawn, and the comedy really missed the mark for me. The plot winds along nicely enough, but its just lacking anything really substantial for me. Perhaps its greatest contribution is that it seems to have been the inspiration for Hogan's Heroes.
The third film was American Gangster, by Ridley Scott (also 4 films in the list). This was probably the longest film of the bunch, as is the nature of this genre (life-and-times/rise-and-fall film, a la Goodfellas, Blow, Once Upon A Time In America, There Will Be Blood most recently). The performances are pretty solid, although both Crowe and Washington have done better (which is no slight - they are two of the more capable actors working today). The script is solid, although not spectacular, but it does feel a little bit "been there before", and the ending felt a little bit non-sequitur and slightly corny.
I'm currently at 214, with about 16 or so waiting to be watched.
tennis
I won a set of singles at tennis last week.
This really shouldn't be an occasion for a blog entry, but I was thinking about it afterwards, and it had probably been close to two years since that had happened. I have had a horrible start to fixtures (this was the first set my team has won all year, after losing 19 straight), and I've been losing sets (albeit sometimes close sets) to Matt for the last few months. Before that was knee surgery and rehab, and it was probably against Franck or someone in Rennes that I last had a singles set go my way.
I talk a very good game these days about getting pleasure from playing well rather than winning on the scoresheet, but the two really are so closely linked. The preceding 3 weeks that I'd played fixtures, I had lost despite hitting the ball reasonably well - I just failed to do what was necessary, head-wise, to construct points and games. That was probably more frustrating than losing because of poor ball-striking.
Last week, though, I hit the ball pretty well, and really scrapped to stay in the game. My opponent was better than me - if we played 10 sets, he'd win probably 7 or 8, and I was actually thinking during the match, "I don't mind if I lose this - my opponent is better than me, and I'm just so happy I've made it a competitive match".
I actually played OK in the doubles, too - we were down 4-1 when we called time - but my doubles play had been OK the previous week or two, so I was less struck by it.
This really shouldn't be an occasion for a blog entry, but I was thinking about it afterwards, and it had probably been close to two years since that had happened. I have had a horrible start to fixtures (this was the first set my team has won all year, after losing 19 straight), and I've been losing sets (albeit sometimes close sets) to Matt for the last few months. Before that was knee surgery and rehab, and it was probably against Franck or someone in Rennes that I last had a singles set go my way.
I talk a very good game these days about getting pleasure from playing well rather than winning on the scoresheet, but the two really are so closely linked. The preceding 3 weeks that I'd played fixtures, I had lost despite hitting the ball reasonably well - I just failed to do what was necessary, head-wise, to construct points and games. That was probably more frustrating than losing because of poor ball-striking.
Last week, though, I hit the ball pretty well, and really scrapped to stay in the game. My opponent was better than me - if we played 10 sets, he'd win probably 7 or 8, and I was actually thinking during the match, "I don't mind if I lose this - my opponent is better than me, and I'm just so happy I've made it a competitive match".
I actually played OK in the doubles, too - we were down 4-1 when we called time - but my doubles play had been OK the previous week or two, so I was less struck by it.
Monday, 21 April 2008
all the recipes I've never ruined
This was a weekend for the sports I wish I played.
On Saturday night, it was off to the footy again, watching Buddy Franklin's Hawks get past Bradshaw's Lions by a couple of goals after a fairly close game that, I have to confess, the Lions were lucky to stay in as long as they did. why Matthews put Brown on the ball, I still don't understand. After the game, we went for a kick-to-kick on the field, which was, once again, lots of fun.
On Sunday, we went over to Bulimba for 9 holes of par 3 golf. I didn't know it was there, but they have a little course of 9 holes of between 83 and 102 metres, which is a type of golf I haven't played before, but which makes for a nice little challenge, and a pleasant social outing. I shot 35, and felt good hitting my wedge. It also reminded me again that, of all the sports at which I consider myself able, golf is probably the one to which I'd like to devote more time.
While we were waiting to play, Adam mentioned that he has just started up with a cricket team, which reminded me that, of all the sports at which I don't consider myself able, cricket is probably the one to which I'd like to devote more time.
After we had finished and were having a drink, a bunch of the Lions players rocked up. I'm not sure whether it was for a hit or a drink, but it was strange to see them wearing sleeves. Jonathan Brown is a big boy.
In the afternoon, we all rolled around to Neil & Sandy's for a BBQ. Doug, Andy and I went down to the park for a kick-to-kick, which was again fun. I was reminded that, of all the sports to which I wish I could devote more time, footy is the one most likely to result in my suffering a major injury.
On Saturday night, it was off to the footy again, watching Buddy Franklin's Hawks get past Bradshaw's Lions by a couple of goals after a fairly close game that, I have to confess, the Lions were lucky to stay in as long as they did. why Matthews put Brown on the ball, I still don't understand. After the game, we went for a kick-to-kick on the field, which was, once again, lots of fun.
On Sunday, we went over to Bulimba for 9 holes of par 3 golf. I didn't know it was there, but they have a little course of 9 holes of between 83 and 102 metres, which is a type of golf I haven't played before, but which makes for a nice little challenge, and a pleasant social outing. I shot 35, and felt good hitting my wedge. It also reminded me again that, of all the sports at which I consider myself able, golf is probably the one to which I'd like to devote more time.
While we were waiting to play, Adam mentioned that he has just started up with a cricket team, which reminded me that, of all the sports at which I don't consider myself able, cricket is probably the one to which I'd like to devote more time.
After we had finished and were having a drink, a bunch of the Lions players rocked up. I'm not sure whether it was for a hit or a drink, but it was strange to see them wearing sleeves. Jonathan Brown is a big boy.
In the afternoon, we all rolled around to Neil & Sandy's for a BBQ. Doug, Andy and I went down to the park for a kick-to-kick, which was again fun. I was reminded that, of all the sports to which I wish I could devote more time, footy is the one most likely to result in my suffering a major injury.
Thursday, 10 April 2008
lending life to truth
On Monday night, I went with Andrew and Steven to a concert by the Australian Chamber Orchestra. It was a diverse (and, for the record, a thoroughly enjoyable) performance, chiefly because it was a hybrid of 3 sets that they are preparing for their (then upcoming, now in-progress) European tour. They began with works by Handel and Rameau, followed by a Bach cello concerto, each of which were quite beautiful. After the interval, they moved to another repertoire, notably an adaptation of Ravel's string quartet. I had enjoyed the earlier pieces, but the added passion present in the later work interested me much more.
Then, last night on the plane, I was reading Possession (Byatt), and came across quite a lovely turn of phrase:
The first part of that, in particular, really struck a chord with me. The first part of the ACO concert had been very beautiful (very "true", if you will), but the second was the more interesting because it contained more passion and drama.
My observation, uninformed though it is, on music is that the earlier forms of classical music (classical in the everyday term, not referring to the period), particularly the baroque but also much of the classical (in the period sense), at times lacks the passion of, say, Beethoven, Rachmaninov (I associate this stuff with the Russians, without much basis for the belief), or apparently Ravel (on the evidence of this concert).
Of course, the phrase itself is odd. The implication that life and truth are different things is somewhat strange when you think about it - both might be thought to mean "reality". However, despite an individual overlap of meaning, in combination the phrase is very evocative of some deeper or indeed more "alive" truth.
I don't know why I linked the two things. Certainly, two of the memorable things from the trip (to Sydney, for some training sessions for work) were the concert (which, I reiterate, I really enjoyed), and a realisation that I seem to be reading more - I have read 200 pages of Possession in the two weeks since I finished Lord Jim.
Then, last night on the plane, I was reading Possession (Byatt), and came across quite a lovely turn of phrase:
am I lending life to truth with my fiction, or verisimilitude to a colossal Lie with my feverish imagination
The first part of that, in particular, really struck a chord with me. The first part of the ACO concert had been very beautiful (very "true", if you will), but the second was the more interesting because it contained more passion and drama.
My observation, uninformed though it is, on music is that the earlier forms of classical music (classical in the everyday term, not referring to the period), particularly the baroque but also much of the classical (in the period sense), at times lacks the passion of, say, Beethoven, Rachmaninov (I associate this stuff with the Russians, without much basis for the belief), or apparently Ravel (on the evidence of this concert).
Of course, the phrase itself is odd. The implication that life and truth are different things is somewhat strange when you think about it - both might be thought to mean "reality". However, despite an individual overlap of meaning, in combination the phrase is very evocative of some deeper or indeed more "alive" truth.
I don't know why I linked the two things. Certainly, two of the memorable things from the trip (to Sydney, for some training sessions for work) were the concert (which, I reiterate, I really enjoyed), and a realisation that I seem to be reading more - I have read 200 pages of Possession in the two weeks since I finished Lord Jim.
inconstancy
My blogging inconstancy, with 2- and 3-week breaks between posts, is problematic to me. Each time I feel like I have something I'd like to blog about, I feel obliged to check when my last post was and post some sort of summary of the interregnum, which inevitably becomes a dull list of sports played, etc, without any great insight into anything.
This, then, signals the end of the interregnum summary. From now on, if I feel like posting, I will, but I offer no promise that the blog will present any sort of summary of what I've been doing. If I find some routine whereby I resume blogging more regularly, it may find itself serving that purpose, of course, but in the meantime, I'll just blog randomly about things I've been thinking.
This, then, signals the end of the interregnum summary. From now on, if I feel like posting, I will, but I offer no promise that the blog will present any sort of summary of what I've been doing. If I find some routine whereby I resume blogging more regularly, it may find itself serving that purpose, of course, but in the meantime, I'll just blog randomly about things I've been thinking.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
