Day in, day out, I listen to the woman next door screaming at her eldest son.
Day in, day out, I listen to the woman next door screaming at her eldest son.
Grist found this video clip on Frank Capra's 1958 TV doco on Climate Change.
"The slower we move the faster we die...We are not swans we're sharks."
You can break into a Mercedes quite easily, is the consensus of roadside assist men. But you can't break into a VW Beetle.
"Built like tanks" - that's the consensus.
Deadlocked with one click - other cars you have to click twice to deadlock.
Great time to find this out!
When you've locked the keys in the boot (that's trunk to anyone outside Australia).
Avatar's still packing them in. Full house morning session on Saturday a month after opening. It's high-end entertainment so maybe it's not so amazing that even the "attention-deficit" generation is able to get through three hours. The first time I saw it was in a tiny regional cinema - even without surround sound and 3-D it blew me away.
Dance choreographer and theatre director Jacqui Carroll let me film a rehearsal of Frank Productions' work-in-progress To Have Done With The Judgement of God. It's alternative theatre based on a form out of Japan called The Suzuki Method. Very dramatic. Jacqui and husband, actor/dancer John Nobbs, have been adapting the classics for many years and now have quite a repertoire for their ensemble. The creator of the method Tadashi Suzuki has invited Jacqui to create a piece for his annual festival held in his home town of Toga - quite an honour.
This is hard core training. I've attempted it once. It's designed to bond the body, spirit and voice. This is their first all-male piece.
This Frenchman was way ahead of his time - he attacked America as a "baby factory war-mongering machine". The radio station which commissioned him to write it pulled it at the last minute and the censorship raised the hackles of other artists such as film director Jean Cocteau. God is found to be an organ pulled out a corpse on the autopsy table.
BTW: it was a hand-held shoot of a few hours.
Meggy May's New Year's Eve injury seems to have healed well. Her little brown eye turned a bright red - filled with blood. It wasn't pretty the day after. The emergency vet doctor told me she might lose her eye. Her purple eye stitch comes out tomorrow. Her throat stitches came out last week. The swelling's gone. Hopefully she can still see out of her injured eye. She sent a video message to two of her biggest fans - my niece and nephew who witnessed her trauma - to let them know she's doing fine. She still squints like a little pirate - but that's my Meg all over.
In the coastal rural district of Gladstone is a little service station with driveway service. I haven't seen driveway service since my father sold his little service station way, way long ago. And Mort doesn't even call it a service station, he calls it an "auto-port". I took photos because service with a smile is so rare - let alone driveway service!
We stopped to fill up on the journey home from Pearl Beach after Christmas.
The old highway runs all the way along the river - it's cattle country nestled in National Parks which are adjacent to surfing spots like Crescent Head.
This road runs straight through green grazing land. Open the car door and the smell of cow dung wafts in as well as annoying tiny flies.