Nathan Oldfield is a poetic photographer and indie film maker who's latest effort - The Heart and The Sea - is ready for delivery. Support him, spread the word or at least check out the trailer at his site.
Next week is Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year for some surfers. For others Friday or Saturday or Sunday will be their holy days. For my Zen friends contemplation of everything and nothing is important, including the intricate symbols important to others' creeds. Peace, respect and unity to all lovers of the brine.
Two different framings of the same shot.
Today's music - a variety of blues starting with Bessie Smith, a smidge of acoustic Clapton, electo fuzz wah RL Burnside and right now Collard, Greens and Gravey.
Breakfast - same as yesterday.
Lunch - same as yesterday.
Weather - rain.
Yep, wet stuff. Even the back deck possums are confused. Well, definitely the little furry bubbas clinging to their mumma's back. They have never felt rain in their short lives, It's been dry here for 55 days. Could be a good blues tune in there somewhere.
What we need around here right about now is a bit of a tempest. Preferably a few 100 kilometres out at sea to pulse out some sweet swell.
The closest to a tempest I got this grey Monday morning is Bob Dylan's 35th album, Tempest. Not bad for a 71 year old. I bought this one cold from iToons following a very impressive review in the press. Now I know from first hand experince that the Bobster has had a few duds, including the last time I saw him live. Dark muddy lighting and equally confusing muttering don't constitute a satisfactory sonic experience.
I've just done my first listening of Tempest and I can report that although the title may be a misnomer, the old story teller can still spin an evocative yarn. There's whiffs of the Delta, the scarlet delights of Bourbon Street, the sea, death and love. There's always richly complicated surrealistic relationships in Bob's universe. My verdict on one listening - a fine moody gem just right for a quiet midnight wind down or a Sunday morning come down.
I've seen it written a few times before on inspirational cards, posters and signs you can hang up at home - "Dance like nobody's watching". Well, that's what I'm doing this morning while the sun creeps into view, blogging, making lunch and chowing down on wholegrain cereal and fruit. The fact that I'm fairly uncoordinated isn't bothering me. Especially when it's Friday and Exile on Main Street is beating out of the big ole headphones. Oh and nobody's watching thank God.
In my imaginary surf movie, this would be the first shot. Rather plain, no waves, but plenty of room in the frame for a title like "Modyssey" or something more contemporary like "Hipsters Unleashed 3". A rather laid back vibe would slowly start creeping out of the speakers. This would be the second shot, as I establish mise-en-scene as the French film critics in Cahiers du Cinema were want to say.
"What matters in a film
is the desire for order,
the placing of actors and objects,
the movements within the frame,
the capturing of a moment or look...
Mise en scene is nothing
other than the technique
invented by each director
to express the idea
the specific quality of his work."
Of course there would be surfing footage. Eventually It's a surf movie after all. This post is for my fellow traveller and student of cinematic discourse, Mark. Soon holidays, buddy.
Today's post is dedicated to my long boarding mentor and good mate The Bazzmeister who has just joined "the zipper club" following open heart surgery. Speedy recovery mate! In the meantime, there's magazines, surf vids and blogs to keep you stoked.
Book of the week is Erica Jong's funny, irreverent memoirs Seducing the Demon, a brilliant guide for all aspiring writers. On page 205 she writes:
"I think it's almost impossible for a young person
to get into the head of an old person.
If we could the world would never go forward
nor would it change.
The old are perhaps younger in mind than we.
But their bodies have rebelled against them,
and while we still have our eyes,
our legs, our ears, we cannot imagine this.
We think our material selves will last forever.
The old know better.
They know that nothing lasts but words, music and colour.
I love reading. Books, newspapers, magazines, blogs, emails, texts, scribbled directions to "secret spots", people's phone numbers, menus at restaurants - they all enrich my life. I can't imagine not being able to read and am eternally grateful to those patient souls who help me get to this point. If I never learned to read, I would never have learned to write. There would be no blog. I like to write.
And as for navigating the maze of the supermarket shelves to buy groceries? That could be a disaster, like the time my mate's illiterate housemate brushed his teeth with Dencorub - a camphor skin cream that heats up torn muscles when applied to the skin...."not to be taken internally"
So let's support the original Aussies with this great little initiative.