50 years ago I bought you some cufflinks...

It was nineteen ninety something and I was probably fifteen or sixteen. My family went to Byron Bay, in the car. It was hot and we ate sugar cane bought from the side of the road. We alternated between Triple J and 774. Our parents played their tapes: The Travelling Wilburys, Cat Stevens ... and Joan Baez's Diamonds and Rust album. It's the soundtrack to that holiday; I played it on repeat - kids, what I mean is I just kept turning the cassette around over and over again.

I fell for her voice (though sometimes giggle at its rawther dramatic vibrato) and her look, her activism, her passion ... and her proximity to his bobness ... And now I'm seeing her live in concert! This Friday - tonight, now! More a singer than a really beautiful lyricist, but I do still absolutely adore this song in particular:

Diamonds and Rust

Well I'll be damned

Here comes your ghost again
But that's not unusual
It's just that the moon is full
And you happened to call

And here I sit, hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I'd known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember your eyes
Were bluer than robin's eggs
"My poetry was lousy", you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the Midwest

Ten years ago
I bought you some cuff links
You brought me something
And we both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

You burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms

And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
Would keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing
With brown leaves falling all around
And snow in your hair
Now you're smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you're telling me
You're not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You, who are so good with words
And at keeping things vague

'Cause I need some of that vagueness now
It's all come back too clearly
I once loved you dearly
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust
Well, I've already paid

O that unwashed phenomenon, so good with words & keeping things vague...

Genre? Not really.

So mad about this article about The Hunger Games.

The following is one of the three things the author identifies as a theme that may not appeal to adults when reading The Hunger Games.

Clunky Pacing and Writing -- this is not quite a "theme" but I've seen this flaw in some YA books. (The first book was beautifully paced, but the other two books -- not as much.) YA authors don't aspire to be David Foster Wallace, but Hunger Games' prose can be a bit choppy at times.

I don't come in defense of HG, specifically, because I only read the first one and don't remember the quality of the writing. It was a fun read and I really enjoyed it. I'm just so mad about the whole YA authors don't aspire to be... comment. It's probably true that many or most don't aspire to be DFW. And that is probably a good thing. He met a pretty horrible end. But rawr! All the YA authors I know work damn hard to write beautifully, and produce absolutely wonderful works of literature.


The problem here is that most people just don't seem to realise that there are genres within YA. It's not a genre all by itself, even though it is usually shelved all together. Whatever the case, there's going to be a difference in writing styles if you compare a fantasy YA with a literary YA, or a chick-lit YA with dystopian-sci-fi YA. Just the same in the adult book world.

The author saying she's read a lot of clunky writing in YA is like saying she's read a lot of clunky writing in all books. Probably true. There's a lot of crap out there, as well as all the gems. I was going to forgive her, but then clicked through and read on her author profile that she is writing YA.

Quoi le fuck?

And perhaps another day I shall address the fact that this is a totally stupid question to ask in the first place - can an adult enjoy a YA book? The answer* is DERRRRRRRR! Read whatever you enjoy.

*(my friend, that's blowin' in the wind)

be careful not to touch the wall, there's a brand new coat of paint

there are many things i am supposed to be doing. lots of deadlines looming. so...here are some of my procrastinations:

i very much enjoyed watching the eurovision bong (?) contest on the weekend. wonderful costumes, interesting songs, it should have been moldova for the win! what hats they had! or romania! what a smile! head over to the joy of mediocrity, for la dashla certainly enjoyed her eurovision moments and will amuse you.

also look out for her list of 5 books never to read in the midst of a mid mid life crisis.

neither a borrower nor a lender be.

apparently i borrowed this book from my grandfather. i have no idea how long ago, but when he was moving all his books so he could sand down the bookshelf and revarnish it (yes, my very old grandparents get these wild ideas sometimes) he found this note. uh oh.

excellent graffiti that was near my house. apparently this artist gets around, as there is evidence of this elsewhere in melbourne. someone has scratched this one off now. it made me think of childhood, 52-card pickup, circuses and lily, rosemary and the jack of hearts (perhaps the woman with the axe is rosemary?? only with an axe rather than a penknife).

Lily was a princess, she was fair-skinned and precious as a child
She did whatever she had to do, she had that certain flash every time she smiled
She'd come away from a broken home, had lots of strange affairs
With men in every walk of life who took her everywhere
But she'd never met anyone quite like the Jack of Hearts -- Bob Dylan

his bobness : live in melbourne

the two men sitting behind me at rod laver arena discussed the furore that followed dylan going electric at newport in '65, but of course his tour in australia in '66, well there's just not a lot written on it...i love a dylan tragic. they were out in force at the rod laver arena last wednesday.

papa bear and i just hoped bob would sing something we could recognise. he did. in his own special way: a voice that sounds like he's gargling whiskey and gravel, a spiffy suit and hat and a couple of rockin' dance moves. i swear it's contrariness that sends his songs spinning in a new arrangement every year. highlights for me were tangled up in blue and simple twist of fate. they were closer to the originals and the band didn't bang on too loud or too long.

rod laver arena sucks though. bob was just too far away. so impersonal. and chilly. i don't think i shall go there again. it had none of the ambiance of other old rocker concerts i've been to.

did i say that bob was far away? (click to enlarge) though the lighting was fantastic, in the absence of screens (damn your contrariness bob!) his silhouette was uplit and projected large onto the back of the stage - i could philosophise on the many meanings behind this, and interpreted from this, larger-than-life, a false modesty, ...

he finished the evening with forever young. a beautiful song, which is now a fab children's book with great illustrations, full of references to his songs and his life. perfect for the offspring of dylan tragics.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young

trailer for the book:

reviews of the concert here and here.