Old paper

Went for an explore under the house on Sunday, and uncovered some delights.
A radio gram.
A set of drawers.
A tiny box containing three silver cake forks.
Drawers full of manilla folders.

Our flat is really old.
Like, probably well over 100 years old.
I've often thought how amazing it would be to have a sort of guest book for it. For all the lives that pass in and out these doors. All the adventures, dinner parties, laughter and mishaps that have taken place here.

There's something splendid about catching a glimmer of someone else's life.
The manilla folders contained this.

A huge stack of typed up newsletters and flyers is now sitting on my ironing board, after I had a good old look through them today.
Most of them being material from the New Zealand Marijuana Party from around 1978-1980.

A lot of it is a good laugh.
Tips for not getting busted trading in a pub. The fact that the police can legally tap phone lines.
Advise about hiding any supplies and ensuring that you don't leave finger prints on bags.

But the opening comment of the January 1980 newsletter got me thinking.
It reads:

1980 has arrived and still found us living under repressive laws. We must continue our struggle for basic human rights...this campaign is not just simply about marijuana but it is a campaign against the ever increasing encroachment of human rights

Really?

Human rights confuse me. Water? Shelter? Freedom from violence? Freedom of association?
Where does the line get drawn?

Apparently for these guys the line is drawn just on the other side of the legalisation of weed.

Choice. Freedom. Law. Rights applicable to all people.
-Can these things ever be worked out?

I don't think they can be.
Though I don't really give a toss about marijuana's legalisation, I do really care about people getting what they need, and having agency.

So to this end, the fact that the people living in my flat some 30 years ago were passionate about challenging the status quo, about revision of what is a 'right', inspires me.

Maybe things need to be challenged? Even if they are to be again proven right, perhaps this process of critique is what allows us to continue to engage with what it means to be human, to be free and to live together as a people.

The wood from the trees

I love sayings.

Vocabulary. 

Slang.

Colloquialism.

Those hazy pearls of wisdom which are somehow bundled up in a mystifying sequence of words. 

Hearing a new saying for the first time is one of life's little delights.

These well worn little phrases evoke for me the kind of old worldliness and nostalgia as the cause me to think about where we come from. 

Those little things that make us up, from the quirky Christmas traditions and those old family recipes no one writes down or uses measures, through the finicky way someone likes their washing folded. All these things we have been taught. 

All these things we have observed and been introduced to and taught to see life through. 

As we grow the strings of words we have been given link together, sculpting frames for us to look out to the world. 

Though I spend much of my day busy looking out through these frames, talking, listening, writing, thinking, it's a joy to be reminded to take a step back and see where these words come from.

To see my heritage where these words have been before, rebuking, teasing, teaching, caring; alive.

Not only this, but taking this step back gives me a glimpse forward; my future in the words I gather, and the words I give.

Sometimes, as they say, it's hard to 'see the wood for the trees'.

By taking a step back from my close-range inspection of life, to see my life as part of the narrative of those past, and those future, I'm challenged to use my voice, my ears, my thoughts, my words as best I can today.

old and new

C.S Lewis
I will always delight in the stories you have to share with me.
Of far away places and peoples, of ideas and values old and new
Of a bigger story that we all take part in.

I also like the little oddities of your vocab, which is already so far from mine.
Here are a few faves from A Horse and His Boy.

rum -adjective ( rummer , rummest ) Brit., informal dated

odd; peculiar : it's a rum business, certainly | they were a rum bunch.

adjective

august |ôˈgəst|

respected and impressive : she was in august company.

All

I will say over and over, all the things that I’ve meant before,

All those things which tell the truth,

Of I am,

To let go the words

I’ve held back,

Taken in by the Word

All, all, all, all will be well,

All, all, all, all will be sure,

To be found is to go astray,

To leave, to return one day

Essential as one foot before the next,

As sure as the coming tide,

As near as a breath,

Eternal I am,

All I confess,

To live who You are

Sunday morning

Matthew Greener's voice is so heartbreaking, in a pleasant, swoony sort of way. 

Overcast Sunday. 

Reading the news. 

Playing this on repeat. 

Gold.

Cold Splinters

Was directed to this cool website by the fine Frankie.

Such beautiful images, ideas of adventure.
Escape from reality, to reality.

The wilderness at once scares and enchants me.
Isolation, stillness, water, growing, clear air.











these are some faves from the site.


Another super cool dude into hobo exploration is Mr D Price. A dear friend bought me a book of his a few years ago and I've just discovered his online zines. So cool! Check them out, The Moonlight Chronicles

Boho

The other day I stumbled upon this little article .

boho-hobo inspirational goodness.

I found it quite challenging to imagine myself doing something other than the normal working 9-5, saving up to pay off the student loan/mortgage/car/whatever,  rhythm of capitalist society.

When I was a kid I used to imagine living in a room under a mansion.
I figured all I'd need was a TV, a mattress and a big bag of carrots to live off.
I'd just sneak through the floor of the fancy house to use their shower at night, and I'd be set.

Though I've now given up this thrifty house elf dream, I love the to imagine giving my life to what I love and what needs my help, rather than just filling up my bank account.

Hmmm. Thoughts.

Where your heart is, there your treasure will be.

the mile

I like everything about this.

I like how Stu Larsen kinda holds his mouth in a funny way when he sings,
how the dude playing violin is wearing TOMS.

I like how way the camera blurs and changes focus,
how the couple watching on are so stoked to have stumbled upon such joy
'wholy shit...where's the money jar? where's the money jar? it's for pleasure, it's for pleasure'

I bet this made their night.
I like it.


From the little I know, Stu Larsen seems to be a bit of a nomad/hobo kind of character.
Traveling round, making music, thinking thoughts.
As a hoarder and homebody, I find what he has to say thought provoking.

'I've only got one pair of shoes,
 to comfort these weary feet,
 cos a man who has too much,
 is like a song without a beat,
 left feeling incomplete'

This tune and this lyric has been stuck between my ears for a little over a month now, what does it make you think about?

If you are digging, you can download a couple of songs for free here.

Happiness to you all.

light a candle for me

Boys, lighting a candle, saying prayer, Puno, Peru.

then, and again.

This is oh so cool.

 Irina Werning's project Back to the Future  is where peoples by-gone days are recreated, often with quite a humourous result.

Can you imagine recreating those scenes where you are playing naked in the sandpit?
Or when you wore that fluffy purple outfit to the school disco?
Yea.

She's done such a thorough job and paid such attention to detail it's almost like spot the difference in some of them, minus the aged faces.

These are some of my faves, but you should most definitely check the project out.

garden

 

today.

 my mother said 

"wait until I make my cup chamomile, I have to be in the write state of mind for song playing"

today.

I drank raspberry tea with a big squeeze of lemon and honey

today.

Many beautiful drawings of plants on Botanical were discovered.

Red for revolution

I went and saw Miss Saigon last night at The Civic.
It was quite a beautiful experience.

Set in Saigon in 1975 some pretty big ideas are expressed. Beauty, despair, wistful hope, bitter reality, the American dream, and most of all, sacrifice, give the eyes, ears, mind and heart plenty to do in two and a half hours of theatrical glory.

Early in the second act, the success of the Viet Minh sees Saigon established as Ho Chi Minh city, the American GI's gapping it as the red revolution conquers the city.

Red.

In this haunting scene the stage was flooded with dry ice and dyed blood red with light. As the soldiers marched and the gongs clanged I was struck by how much could be conveyed through colour, how much meaning was tied up in this and what this meant in Vietnam's context. For some, the greatest hope, for others, a death sentence.





So, you know, that was interesting enough, then today, on a normal Auckland street, in your general Auckland suburb, I drove past a house flying a Che Guevara flag. Just one of the 20th Centuries most influential revolutionary figures chilling out on someone's deck.

And again, here was the red.

This man who inspired thousands, perhaps millions, to fight for freedom, to fight for humanity, waving about in the rain. Che has long become a symbol for the fight against authority, boiled down to a stylized silhouette, and on this flag at least, swimming in red.


It's all rather interesting really.
Colour can just be colour, but it can also be so much more.

I guess we have a the French to blame for our fascination with revolution red. The sans-culotte's donned the bonnet rouge as a symbol for their quest for liberty and equality during the French Revolution. One minute a hat is for keeping your head warm, next time you look, boom! It's a political statement.

Whether for you red is a fire engine, communism, blood, fire or just a fave colour, I think it's worth acknowledging that if we let it, it can be a lot more for us.

I certainly be thinking twice about what it means for me when I don red, and what things I want to fight for, what freedoms I believe in. Some may say this is rediculous, but I'm redy for the challenge ;D

  

1st of June.
Marilyn Monroe was born 1926.
Helen Keller died 1968.
It is also Oscar the Grouch's birthday today.
If you're a farmer you might know today as Gypsy day (unlikely even that you are reading my blog, but hey you never know).

Something I have enjoyed hearing lately is people say 'small things'.
Whether it's about the little things in life they enjoy, poking fun at the oddities of others, it's a new saying to me.

Some small things I've enjoyed this week:
the sound of lentils being poured into a jar
watching someone bend down to pat a cat on their walk home
the smell of Vic Books coffee
clean feet in fluffy socks
cutting a persimmon in half, seeing it's sun shape, then sharing it with a friend.
Debbie Carlos series entitled Micro.
So cool.
In enlarging her negatives she picked out parts of photos which were background details, seeking out those little things, the image inside the image. This is a particular fave.

Check it out at http://debbiecarlos.com/index.php?/photography/micro/

loose change

The rediscovery of loose change has to be one of the cheapest thrills around.

Finding a token $1.40 gave me that 'some hi-5 me!' feeling and make me wonder what I will put this little treasure towards.

A friend of mine occasionally will hide herself a few dollars to rediscover some day and I know of someone who recently rediscovered €200 when cleaning her room! Man, never mind going out in search of treasure-just tidy up your bookshelf and boom!

Pleasant surprises are so good. I think I'm going to try and pleasantly surprise someone today.
I'll let you know.

Happy Monday!

Sounds like Autumn to me

Over the last two weeks I've daily observed the tree out my kitchen window. Slowly it has said good bye to it's leaves. It's now a naked tree, looking well under-dressed in cool the Wellington breeze.

I really love Autumn. Tea. Toast. Scarves. Trees. Leaves. Puddles. These are all very good things. There is something to be said about how music can capture a moment in time, a feeling, or, a season. I've had a bit of a revival with Liam Finn over the last few weeks. You could say after first hearing him a couple of years ago, I've grown into his sound. He just hits the Autumn nail on the head for me. The moody piano, the tinkly electric moments, the whelming choir- so good. His whole album 'I'll be Lightning', is bliss.

You should probably go out and buy the album or come to my house and listen to it because youtube is not fronting up with a decent recording for many of the songs. However, this is a bit of gold:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVpfGQ3TvPA

Happy last few days of Autumn.