Return Trip: Days 7-14

Tuesday

I met Maria in the evening and we went and got hot chocolate and pizza (not together, that would be disgusting...I think). We talked about our lives since Amadeus and what there was to be gained from studying abroad, especially for how it coloured your time back at home. We made merry and discussed the real world applications of some very exciting science in which Maria is involved; whenever I talk to my friends who do science, I wish that linguistics would change the world more often.

Wednesday

I went to Matilda the Musical. It was amazing: the music was infectious, the choreography joyous and expressive and the actor playing Miss Trunchbull was so perfect, I almost forgot Pam Ferris entirely. Almost. The show had some weak points- Matilda's Sudden Onset Telekinesis only lasts about half an hour in this version, making one wonder what the point was- but all in all I enjoyed myself immensely and I would highly reccommend everyone to see it.

In the evening, I met with Alana for a quick dinner; she's a very busy woman, having made something of herself over the past few years and sadly an hour and a half was all she could really afford. Still, I was grateful for what I could get- and Alana is another Australian friend who took a year abroad and so understands the sense of longing I feel. She told me about her adventures in America and I was very jealous, before remembering I had my own stories to tell from Australia (although she already knew most of these).

Thursday

Charlotte, who had also recently delighted at Matilda, and I went for breakfast at Hot Poppy's, a favoured haunt of yore, where they serve heavenly hash browns about which I had apparently raved before, but quite forgotten, so the pleasure was fresh once more. What to say of Charlotte? She features quite heavily this week- our conversation is always the same, which is to say it's wildly different every time. We go off on such odd tangents, and into such strange avenues of thought that the following utterance

"You have twangled away our good family name"

flowed quite naturally. I actually got some prime candidates for the Quotes of the Year competition, so keep your eyes on this dark horse.

Next up was Beppe, who I met only briefly at the end of my last tenure in Melbourne but who was still very eager at the thought of getting coffee together. We spoke and I learned more of his life (I really didn't know him all that well when we left), including the fact that he's a bloody polymath: he's studying Physics and Mathematics, with a minor in Italian and, from what I can tell, rocking all three. Well done, sir.

In the evening, I went to some improv shows- one of which physically injured me with how funny it was- and then at the end, got up and had a go myself.
It didn't go well.
I was very rusty, and while I don't think I broke any of the rules per se, I also don't remember garnering any laughs from the (admittedly meagre) audience. Alack.

Friday

Josiah and I grabbed a quick coffee at a very upmarket cafe in amongst the hectic hugger-mugger that is his life. Josiah, as I later described him to Charlotte, is rather like if Santa Clause lost a lot of weight and then decided to do student theatre- magnanimous, avuncular with just a hint of jazz hands. He suggested I open a puzzle room and I thought that I'd do it in the style of the Riddler- point a gun at people's heads and not let them leave until they'd figured out complex math. People would pay for that, right?

I met Simon briefly at the university and we chatted for half an hour about art and ethics and also there was a bird above us, tearing up food and then throwing it at us. It was rather odd, but Simon has always been big on animal metaphors so I'm sure he can whip something up about the bird being our mothers or something. 

I'd originally been planning to buy a cheap ticket for Avenue Q that day but sadly someone else snapped it up and so it would have been $110 for me to attend, which would have been almost my entire remaining budget. Instead, I went to see some fireworks and then get drunk with Sam, a man I met at the hostel I stayed at in Cairns. It was nice and, best of all, cheap, which was really what I was looking for.

Saturday

I played an epic session of D&D with Laura, David and a handful of people I'd never met before. I was Draffh, a half-orc bard who was racist against the other half-orc bard in the party. Sparks flew (metaphorically: no one cast lightning bolt), there was more than one barbed comment traded and then interdimensional pirates arrived and we had to put aside our differences- well, not quite, there was a bit of a skirmish mid-air once the ship vanished. It was incredible fun- just the right mixture of theatre and lore and tactics and luck. I really enjoyed occupying the world Dave had created (for he was dungeon master) and I'm eager to get back into roleplaying as a hobby.

Sunday

Aspen and I got lunch- not at Pancake Parlour, this time, signalling our character development. Once again, we spoke about politics more than I remembered, but this isn't a bad thing. After all, Aspen had a lot to say about identity politics and geek culture (she works in the gaming industry) and her insights are always interesting. Although, she told me the truth about Zero Dark Thirty and I was outraged because that film was boring as fuck and it turned out they made half of it up! Why couldn't they make up something interesting?

I then got a train to Richmond and went to a poetry open mic event and read my poem The Gaijin Pit. People seemed very receptive and everyone asked me how long I was going to be in Melbourne and were saddened to find out I'd be leaving so soon.

I then got a train to Parliament and went to another improv session and got up on stage again- this time, it went better. I got a few laughs (and actually nabbed the final line of the show before the lights went out), and I felt better about my long-dead theatrical career. I mean, I'm not Sarah Siddons, but I mimed carrying an amputated leg quite well.

I then got a tram to North Melbourne and went to see a different improv show with Charlotte. There were lots of different improv formats on display: some, like a segment where four pages of a show were scripted and the rest was improvised from there, were fascinating; others descended into rather predictable dick jokes. Still, it was lovely to see any theatre, as it's quite hard to find in Japan, and Charlotte's company was as enspiriting as ever.

Monday

Srini and I got a coffee and discussed the merits of Nolan and Whedon, much as we ever did. I remember Declan railing at us to 'shut up about Batman' and I'm sure he'd be heartened to know that three years later it's still our go-to jumping off point. Much as with Aiden, Srini and I often have very different views on films and get quite deep in our analysis but we can discuss them without falling out or arguing and thus benefit from the others passion and insight. If only the internet could take note- he certainly had the only cogent argument I've heard in favour of Jesse Eisenberg's Lex Luthor.

Srini accompanied me to the uni, where I met with Julian who seemed to have settled right back into Melbourne like a salamander in a bonfire. Obviously, he and I didn't have so much catching up to do so instead I viewed our conversation as more of a cataphoric kind of reminiscing- a sort of crystal ball, showing me what my future might be like when I finally quit Japan. He's moved back in with his parents, which I hope not to do, and turned vegetarian, which I swear not to do, but overall he seems happy. I hope I can take the move back so well.

Then, Charlotte and I met once more (to date, the final time) and made a flip book at the Academy of Moving Images (we actually made two, slightly different but thematically related, reflecting the way we view the world). Interspersed with this, we sang snippets from our improvised musical Hot and Cold which was variously about a relationship ending, an orphan finding her family or a completely ordinary day where nothing really happened at all. And then we had to say goodbye and it played out much the same as last time- I really hope I see her again and, if not, well at least we had the time we got.

After that, I went to another poetry open mic, read The Gaijin Pit and The Turkeys Voted for Christmas and received the same enthusiastic response for both. I wish I could perform like that every day- it really got my blood pumping and made me feel alive. But such things cannot be.

Tuesday 

I had to check out of my hostel this morning, and then went to meet Dave on campus for a final goodbye hang out. We discussed the future developments of the D&D campaign, and I really wish I could be there to see them. Things are going to get interesting.

Then I met with Aiden and Wilson for lunch; these two have actually been hanging out some in my absence and I kind of like that because I'm the one who introduced them. We went to eat at a Japanese restaurant, and it was funny to think that just a year ago that would have been the closest I'd ever been to the land of the rising sun. Aiden and I discussed music and covers and how context (especially music videos) can totally change your experience of a song. And then we said goodbye (I've been saying goodbye a lot recently).
Wilson and I then chatted for some time- he's had some very major developments in his life since I last saw him and is yet another person who did a year abroad. Although, to hear him describe it, I think he didn't have quite the same experience as Alana or I. I really marvelled at all he had done in three years and it made me feel like I have some catching up to do- although, I don't regret most of the choices I've made.

And that brings us up to now- I've still got one social engagement left, dinner with Henry, which I will write about in a longer piece discussing how I felt about the holiday as a whole, but here's a quick preview: it was fantastic.

Return Trip: Days 3, 4, 5, 6 & 7

Friday

I met up with Charlotte- this was a reunion foretold in the stars, one I'd been imagining and anticipating for years and it didn't disappoint. Charlotte's always had an energy which is a joy to behold; she's so creative and conversations with her twist and bend in such odd ways, tangents becoming stories becoming pataphors becoming an extended exploration of how alternate universes might work in minute detail. Absolutely wondrous.

After that, I met up with Andrew. It was actually a lot like our first ever meeting, way back in September 2012: we discussed politics, pyschology, theatre; we ventured opinions on how these fields interacted; we took guesses at each other's psyches. Of course, this time, I felt we were slightly more equal as I'd seen a bit more of the world, but that just made the tête-à-tête all the more satisfying.

After Andrew left, I was just going to go back to my hostel but on a whim, I jumped on a random tram to see where it took me. This allowed me to see a new part of the city, as well as feel that I was getting more value out of my Myki card; sadly, the part of the city it took me too was rather bleak and by this time it was quite dark. Still, an evening stroll can do you wonders. 

Saturday

I met with Aspen, and later her boyfriend Michael, for lunch. We went to Pancake Parlour and after Max Brenner's, two of our haunts of yore. Aspen and I talked quite a while about politics, which I don't remember us having done before- we also discussed Orange is the New Black, which we definitely never did before because I hadn't seen it. When Michael arrived, we also talked about the difficulties of getting on the property ladder, which seemed so grown-up and grounded that I couldn't quite believe it was a conversation I was having with the girl with whom I used to duet The Bad Touch. 

After seeing Aspen, I went to an improv show in which Charlotte was starring. It was, get this, an improvised Shakespeare show. It was incredibly funny- I sat front row guffawing all the way through- and Charlotte's aforementioned energy perfectly suits the improvisation format. After, we got drinks on a rooftop bar and I told her repeatedly how great she was. 

Sunday

Victoria and I got breakfast together, once more at Pancake Parlour. She filled me in on her life since the days of Yarra, and I regaled her with stories of my time in Japan and France. After that, we went and got purikura- you see, Victoria also used to live in Japan and so she knew how to pass the time, Nippon-style. Once we'd made ourselves prettier and drawn all over our photographs, we went and got some incredibly strange juice which was incredibly...thick. The café said this was becase the juice was fresh but I'm not sure that that was the cause. Strange juice aside, Victoria seemed buoyant as ever and it was awesome to catch up.

In the evening, I saw Simon. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this before, but this time I was struck by how similiar Simon is to Esmond- I get the feeling that if they met each other, they'd either get along like a house on fire or drive each other crazy. Still, Simon and I discussed, among other things, being magazine editors (he's just finished, I've just begun), art and the meaning thereof and whether or not people are bastards. Sadly, it was quite a short visit because he had to go eat dinner with his family but I think we might see each other again and if not, I'm hopefully gonna see Esmond next month so that's pretty much the same thing. 

Monday

I went to a poetry event and NAILED IT. I was on fire. People I didn't know came up and hugged me to thank me for my words. People bought me drinks and insisted that I come to their thing next week, hailing me as the fresh new thing in Melbourne poetry. When I told them I was only in town for a few days, hearts were broken. I'm not even exaggerating. 

Tuesday

This morning I went back to the NMIT campus- now known as Melbourne Polytechnic- and Yarra House, where I used to live. I guess the buildings hadn't really changed, but with the uni's new name had come a new design aesthetic and honestly, the place felt very different. I only walked around once and then left- I guess there's nothing there for me anymore. 
However, I then went along the trail Jason and I used to walk in the evenings: this was absolutely charming. The park hadn't changed one bit, it was still verdant and lush in a uniquely Antipodean way. I went back to the small waterfall near Yarra, and I'd never really been there after a really rainfall, and to see all the water flowing was actually quite effecting. I stared at those falls for quite a while. The whole walk bought back memories of long-dead conversations and secret confessions, and once more I got the feeling that Melbourne is like a city of stone tape for me- just a record of experiences and emotions, just waiting to boil to the surface. On the way back from the walk, I took off my shoes, as was my occasional wont back in the day and I got horribly lost, having forgotten the second part of the circle, reminding that not all the memories of my time here are so readily accesible. 

I've just come back from a drink and a chat with Morgan, who was one of my co-stars on Aussie Rules. Morgan has really got his shit together and had in fact just come from the Governor's house (ooh la la). He was dressed extremely smart and made me feel rather shabby and wanting, which I think is just my natural state. In a twist, Morgan is actually currently in the opposite of my situation- he's just returned from a year abroad in the UK and is missing the country terribly. I guess all I can say is, you'll feel better eventually but the saudade will never quite go away entirely. 

I'm just about to go and meet Maria now, but the recap of that will have to be put in the next update, so stay tuned!

Return Trip: Days 1 and 2

I have not used this blog for three years; but then, I haven't been in Melbourne for three years. This was my blog for when I was in Melbourne and now I'm back, I thought 'why not?' and reopened it.

What I want from this holiday changes based on my mood: part of me is saying I should do all the things I never quite managed when I lived here- going to the zoo, doing the climbing wall, etc.; another part thinks I should be doing all the cultural things Melbourne has to offer- the many galleries, museums, libraries and such; and one bit of me just wants to pretend that it's still 2013 and resume my life as though nothing has changed- go to the university campus, scrounge off wi-fi wherever possible, eat at all the places I used to eat. Yesterday, the latter voice won.

Since it was my first day and I was pretty exhausted from getting up at 3.00 am to catch my plane, I hadn't really expected to do much yesterday. I thought I'd check into my hostel, maybe take a nap and then go and find some food. Instead, having secured my bed for the night, on a last minute spur, I decided to return to my alma mater.

The problem was, I didn't remember how to get there.

I was too proud to ask or even to google, so I just set off in a direction with the vague recollection that that was the way I used to walk. I ended up taking an extremely circuitous route, past Victoria Market and a plethora of gyms, up and around and finally down onto the campus I knew.

It hadn't changed. It was strange to walk around and see all these sites and shops I was so familiar with. I spent a lot of time in Union House when I was a student and going back, almost nothing had changed- there was only one new shop which I could see and even all the posters seemed the same. It made me feel like someone had been keeping the university preserved just for me, my own personal museum.

Going back to the Rowden White Library, my favourite place on campus, was a blast from the past. Returning to that bohemian atmosphere, that dream-like, pastural seating area where one is instructed not to learn, the napping room where students sleep litter-style, was just heavenly. And then I saw that they were still displaying the poem that I'd written for them years ago at the front desk. I never signed it, but I like to think that lots of people, queueing up to check out a book, have looked at my ode and wondered what kind of nerd had nothing better to do than write a poem about a library.

There was actually a graduation ceremony happening while I was on the campus- lots of people walking around in gowns and caps, taking almost as many photos as I did, lining up to stand next to anything that bore the university crest. I think these people, assuming they did a standard three year course, would have started at Melbourne just as I left. I might have seen them briefly, during the two weeks I stuck around after my classes were over, but really they were the next generation. The people bought in to replace me. And they were already done with it.

I wondered, as I walked around, if I should've fought harder to stay at Melbourne. It clearly still holds a place in my heart and is important to me. Watching the graduands (they hadn't finished yet), I felt a surge of jealousy- these were the people who'd stayed, the ones who'd made Melbourne their permanent home. I was the silly sod who'd left. Could I have stayed? I don't know. Certainly, I didn't try very hard- I didn't kick up a fuss, or make grand, empassioned arguments or even offer to pay. I made a few enquiries, was gently rebuffed and let it go. I'm kind of angry at myself now. Oh well.

When I was walking around Melbourne Central, I got my first sighting of someone I used to know. Sadly, I didn't recall his name and I'm not sure he ever knew who I was anyway. He was a man from the university queerspace who, like the eleventh doctor, always bow ties. This fashion choice stuck with me and when I saw him I almost ran up to hug him. Sadly, I don't know how a conversation between us would pan out so I decided to demur to the better part of valor and slink off, but it was still nice to see a familiar face.

An even more familiar face surfaced when, later in the evening, I went to see Aiden. We met outside his work, went to get dinner, and talked for six hours. Some of the time we were catching up, sometimes we were discussing movies (a favourite pastime of yore) and sometimes we just exchanged memories of when I used to live here. It was wonderful. It was exactly what I wanted. When I first decided to come back to Melbourne, I was cautious, worried that my friends and I would have changed too much, we'd be unable to connect. With Aiden, this was not the case; we picked up as if I'd just been away for a weekend. This bodes well for other meetings.

Speaking of other meetings, I've just come back from seeing David- I was less worried about meeting David because I saw him last year in Paris. Still, that was eighteen months ago and it's always nice to see him; we talked about life and science and Pokemon Go- all the important things. I'm joining his D and D game next week as a special guest and we discussed the character I'll be role-playing and I realised this would be the first bit of acting I've done in almost two years. I'm really looking forward to getting back into it and I think a role-playing game will be just the place for it.

I'm currently sitting in Victoria State Library, where I used to go once upon a time to complete essays in a more picturesque setting when I was sick of the campus. It really is a gorgeous building, with some interesting displays inside (including Ned Kelly's armour) and, very helpfully in my post-phone state, free wi fi.

At the moment, I'm just spending my time in Melbourne retreading old walks and indulging in nostalgia but it's very enjoyable. Honestly, if the rest of my holiday pans out like this, I'll consider it a massive success.

Yes

I'm about to leave Melbourne for... not forever, but for the foreseeable future. I'll write a proper post in the near future, but for now I just wanted to post this:
The sun was shining on the sea,
The birds were in the skies,
The wizard packed his suitcase up
And said his last goodbyes-
His friends pretended not to see
The tears in his eyes

'Will I be back?'  The Wizard asked,
His voice small and aquake
He questioned at the kookaburras,
Who refused his thirst to slake,
They couldn't answer, for in the end,
That was the wizard's choice to make

There and Back Again

Putting the Thrills Back into No-Frills Flying
I write you, dear reader, against all odds, from a hostel in Queenstown, New Zealand, with the Lion King playing in the background.
I say 'against all odds' because did you know that when flying internationally using one airline and another back, you need an 'itinerary', otherwise known as proof that you plan to leave? Cos I didn't. I had actually booked my ticket back, fortunately, but had not confirmed the e-ticket, or whatnot.
And my phone resolutely refused to access my email.
And the flight was leaving in twenty minutes.
A nice lady from jetstar offered to take me to the Qwantas lounge and use their computers to print out my itinerary- the Qwantas lounge being the furthest possible point from anywhere else in the airport. I arrived there with five minutes to go, ran off a copy and sprinted to the gate...where I had to wait for fifteen minutes.
Following this, I experienced possibly the most beautiful plane ride in existence, photos attached. At one point, I think I could have dropped fron the plane straight onto a mountaintop without breaking a bone, so close were they.
Also, there was a farm literally right next to the runway, which I guess is different, if not particularly practical.
On the other side of the plane ride, I went through the toughest security measures I've seen in my life. They X-rayed my bag for fruit. Twice. If I'd had fruit, I'm pretty sure they'd be dead from radiation. The security made it very clear they did NOT approve of my laissez-faire attitude to where I was heading etc. And then they finally let me go.
Queenstown is extremely beautiful. It's built around a giant lake, carved into the mountainside and extremely wet. I'd forgotten how humid the air in Australia is- by comparison, you get half your RDA of water with every lungful, and it's always lightly chilled.
I've explored the city centre a bit, but it was already getting dark, so I'll redouble my efforts tomorrow morning. I did however find a bar called 'tardis', and checked through the windows, but it seemed exactly the same size on the inside.

You know those dreams where you're falling...

When I was nine, I fell off my bed, which was a high bed, and fractured two vertebrae at the base of my spine. The fractures were very minor, but, given their position, they managed to make certain everyday tasks extremely difficult. That was a fall of six foot.

I just jumped off FORTY THREE FOOT bridge. 

Admittedly, this time there was a piece of rope around my ankles, so I didn't actually hit the floor (well, the river, but you get the idea).

I set out at ten in the morning, because I'm a modern man and I like to free fall before my breakfast, and we drove to the Kawarau Bridge, which is actually the original bungy jump site in the world, so, yeah, suck on them apples. 

There was surprisingly little paperwork beforehand; they just weighed me, told me to empty my pockets (duh) had me sign a little waiver, because y'know, this was kind of my idea in the first place, they're just the enablers, and then sent me out on the bridge.

It was snowing- I had taken off my coat for comfort, and now I regretted that; I watched the two other girls from my tour group drop, both delivering paralysing screams as they fell, and then it was my turn. they fitted a harness on me- rather loosely, I felt- and then wrapped a towel around my legs, then tied some cables, then hooked some latches onto the cables and then asked me to shuffle to the edge; I stood there, toes dangling over oblivion, smiled for both the cameras, somewhat unconvincingly, and then it was '3, 2, 1-', I stepped off the platform.

A loud 'Oh my God' was heard throughout the valley.

The water rushed up towards me, and I was convinced I wasn't going to stop, and then the rope jerked, and I was left, dangling upside down, my tshirt around head, and a lifeboat, some way off, coming slowly towards me, with a large pole extended towards me, asking how I was feeling- 'undignified'. 

I grabbed onto the pole, they grabbed onto my wrists, and I was lowered upside down onto the life boat. The guys there asked me a few questions, including 'can you see us?', presumably to check my retina hadn't detached, and then I climbed back up the slope to collect my belongings. 

I would wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone who's considering it- yes, it's terrifying, but I do feel somewhat invincible now and am no longer going to bother looking both ways before I cross the street, so think how much time I'll save as a consequence of this jump. But, in all seriousness, I feel I've accomplished something, even though all I did was step off a plank of wood- it's the rope that deserves the credit. A Japanese businessman asked to have his photo taken with me afterward and called me a 'hero', and I'm worried I've achieved some kind of international notoriety- there were, in fact, a gaggle of Japanese tourists, taking photos and congratulating me on the way back, but none of whom were jumping themselves, which creeped me out. I may turn up online as 'fat jumping man' or somesuch. Oh well, at least I'll be able to prove I did it. 

Tour'd of the Rings

First, a quick confession: I took my Lord of the Rings Tour before my Bungy jump, but I wanted to blog about that right after I'd done it, so you could all get the juicy viscerality and stream of conscience nonsense that that merited.
When I booked my LOTR tour, I was promised a very personal experience, and that I got: there were only five people on the tour; hell, for the first half of it, there were only three.
I was picked up from my accomodation by a cheery middle-aged lady and ushered into a van, where sat two other LOTR fans. Honestly, even robbed of the context of the tour, I could have guessed they were fans. They had the look (as do I, I imagine). Our first stop was the Rydges hotel where the cast and crew stayed when they were filming- thankfully, this stop was brief, cos honestly I didn't care.
Next, we went onto where they filmed this scene:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWVPp0uhtu0
And something became apparent- I was glad I was taking this tour a mere thirteen years after filming, because the landscape had changed a lot. Kathleen, our tour guide, had a couple of sturdy lanscape features which she pointed out to prove that she was telling the truth, but in between the changes they made for the film (planting some new trees, digital correction etc.) and the vagaries of time, it was sometimes difficult to see the resemblance between the scenes (all played to us on an Ipad before setting off). However, Kathleen then got us to recreate the scenes and took pictures and this appealed to the am-dram ham inside me, so I can't complain.
I lay where Elijah Wood and Sean Astin had thirteen years previous and squeed a little inside me. This is so lame, but I could actually see the oliphaunt in my mind's eye, and I got lost in the story in a way that I haven't for quite a while, if only for a few minutes.
We explored this site, because the entire scene is shot on one location, but out of order, if you understand me- Frodo and Sam switched sides of the river bank several times.
After, we headed to a spot where you could see three different locales from a distance (sadly, access is restricted, them being private land and all), took some photos and then headed off for lunch.
At lunch, we were joined by a young married couple- the young woman hadn't actually seen LOTR, and I felt very sorry for her, because even Kathleen was something of a fangirl. We got to look at some classified documents, which Kathleen had somehow acquired, like call sheets, a handmade shooting calendar (with some really freaky drawings), and the original shooting script, which was given a fake title to keep out locals. This fake film was called 'Jamboree' and was a coming of age epic about scouting. With three separate installments. Honestly, that's dumber than what they pulled with Argo. How did anyone fall for that?!

So, after this, we headed to where they shot Isildur (in both senses of the word 'shoot'); and Kathleen told how someone actually bought a replica one ring (which amount to something like $5000) and then threw it into the river there, but I looked and sadly could not find it. Drat.
We then headed on to where Arwen shows down the Nazghul, and this was probably the place which had changed the least from the film, even though that scene was shot at two different rivers, and I dipped my toe into the waters which carried the Black Riders away and squee'd a little. And then we got back into the SUV and it nearly fell into the river like the horses of the film, to be swept out to sea; yes, the river bank began to give beneath the vehicle, and we hightailed it out of there, backwards, watching the scenery collapse before us like an Emmerich film. Definitely
Next, we headed to the side of a lake where we got to play with replica weapons from the film and take photos, which I will upload as soon as I unpack my camera. Needless to say, I excelled with all forms of damage inducing implement and definitely did not open up my arm with a nazghul blade.

This was the end of the tour, and I was really glad I'd taken it, because it made the Lord of the Rings seem that much more real to me, and I also got to see some absolutely stunning scenery and swing a broad sword, which is always a bonus, whether an innocent bystander is involved or not.

My Tumble Down the Hill

I'm just gonna do away with chronology and tell you about my OGO experience, even though Zealandia and a few others actually preceded it. Essentially, they put me in a giant plastic bubble, filled it with warm water and rolled me down a hill. It was like taking a very dynamic bath, on a rollercoaster; my only complaint was that it only lasted two minutes.

Are You from The Valley?

Zealandia is an attempt to return a valley in Auckland to its natural state, i.e. pre-human arrival. They have species which went nearly extinct (some which were though extinct), wondering around, pecking at your shoelaces, and you can see them all in their natural environment. Awesome.

They also have a walk around the lake, which should not really be attempted alone in the rain, but there it is. I walked for, I believe, in all four hours, thoroughly ruining my shoes and making it look like I'd tried to drown myself in a mud bath. It was still quite enjoyable, though, just because the New Zealand bush is so lush and pretty. Also, I got to hang out with a weird prehistoric chicken thing, so there's always that.

Jet setter

So, I road on a jet boat. It was extremely thrilling. We went at speeds which I have only experienced in the car of one Michael Maclaren, and that at least had a roof, so I didn't end up looking like Syndrome from the Incredibles- I have a lot of hair, OK? We did tricks, like turning around and stopping really quickly, which seem like pretty basic tricks, to be honest, but OK, and I got so wet that several people thought I had fallen into the harbour. I didn't (for once), but it was a fun way to see more of Auckland, and we saw someone else Bungee Jumping, but from only forty foot, the baby.

Charlotte's web...of FUN

So, last night was Charlotte's birthday party and, following in the tradition begun during the TWWOO afterparty, I definitely did NOT finish a whole bottle of vodka all by myself, reprise my monologue from Good Person of Szechuan and then fall asleep on someone's feet.
Honestly. I did none of that stuff.

I was gonna try and pass this off as a pic from last night, but, let's be honest, my hair has not looked this for quite a while

I arrived at chez Chalusinszky fashionably late at eighteen minutes past the designated time of arrival to find that I was the first guest there. Remembering that old rhyming wisdom of the 'guest who's first is always the worst', I quickly disproved it by deigning to drink cole's own orangle-related soft drink from a silver goblet, clearly establishing myself as a man of both distinction and caprice in one fell swoop.
The party escalated quickly, with new guests arriving en masse and enmassing en cuisine; soon the place was stuffed with well-wishers, onlookers and one incredibly timid ginger tabby. Someone suggested we diversify our clustering and we spread out and, as ever, I was a mingler, treading nimbly twixt the multitudinous social groups, making sure all experienced my presence and only moving on when I felt my glory had been basked in for long enough, or the conversation turned to Game of Thrones.
I met the many colorful characters that inhabit Charlotte's world, made polite but scintillating smalltalk and complimented on my overall Britishness.
And then the prospect of 'The Charlotte Chronicles 4: The Quest for the Pooey Lizard' was raised and I was gone. Yes, I laughed for several minutes, and while people inquired if I was OK or needed medical assistance, Charlotte kept her cool, having seen this all before after Declan's unfortunate incident with the pepper, and Simon kept nursing his hand after having hit it into a wall (which was hilarious, by the way).
I remember dancing to 'Greased Lightning', searching for Narnia in Charlotte's wardrobe and finding only the false back where she keeps her collection of children's teeth, and being locked out in the backgarden at two in the morning. I remember a man with hair like a Lion's mane, a discussion of the antisemitism of Bananas in Pyjamas and some suspiciously erotic wrestling between two shoeless hippies.
Charlotte was kind enough to offer me a bed for the evening, and I readily took it, only to discover it was the favourite resting place of aforementioned timid tabby and waking up looking like Garfield fresh out of the tumble dryer. However, we then went for possibly the most delicious breakfast I have had in Oz, and I got a wee bit sad that I'd only discovered the dispenserie of such a month before I leave and that in all honesty I will probably never return there (yet again, I still got to go more than most people ever will etc.).
So, happy birthday, Nose Finger! And, since you specifically requested I write this blog post, I'm counting it as your present. Suck it!

From one award-winning apostle to another

Back in August, you may remember me blogging about my jealousy (or lack thereof) of Jason visiting the Great Ocean Road with a gaggle of schoolgirls; I assure you I was only jealous of the former part.

I'm my own girlfriend.

Well, jealousy debt repaid, you green eyed monster: I too have seen the seven(ish) apostles, the falling falls and the sandy white beaches of the Great Ocean Road. So there.

We started off around nine, having rented a car from East Coast car rentals. We were: Laura, a German psychology student on exchange for the semester; Anna, her schoolfriend taking a few months off while studying for her masters; Charlotte, an English lass who studies full time in Melbourne; myself. I had never met any of the others, only having joined the party by responding to a post online. I also, sadly, was bereft of any photographic equipment, and so have had to pull images from Google searches (hopefully, I'll be able to acquire a few from my fellow day trippers as well).

The first thing I want to report is that I saw the following sign.

Found here (and in Villawood, presumably)

It made me inordinately happy. I don't know why.

After driving for a bit (I'll be honest, my time keeping skills leave something to be desired), we took our first stop- a beach just outside Torquay (not that Torquay- the Australian one*) we stopped for a few minutes and admired the scenery, which was extremely picturesque: this is the main reason for visiting the Great Ocean Road, incidentally, to see the luscious sights. If you'd told my fifteen year old self that I would one day willingly submit to a twelve hour journey just to stare at mountains et al, I would've laughed in your face and returned to playing Dungeons and Dragons. Good times.

We stopped at another beach, and actually descended (because the road runs along some quite severe cliffs, which drop unexpectedly onto tumultuous beaches) onto the sands this time for a spot of beach-being, and I may have carved 'Moi Smells' into the sand, for sentiment's sake. After delighting in the sound of the swell and the sight of the sand, we returned to our Auto and made for Lorne, where we had lunch in a nice little cafe overlooking the sea. We chatted about this and that- where we'd been, where we were going- we were all of a travelling bent, obviously, so this allowed for some quite worldly banter.

After this, we drove to the Sheoak Falls in a valley which was just so beautiful that I'm not even going to bother to describe it. It was pure Australiana.

Found here.

We spent some time drinking in the beauty of it- I dipped my feet in the pool and almost immediately lost feeling in my toes. I'm sad that, in all likelihood, I will only see it once- but then I tell myself that this more than most people.

I should point out that it was around this time that the sun came out, making the journey seem slightly more energetic.

From the falls, we sped on to a spot by the Kennet river where we were told we could see koalas. While there, we met some fellow dispatriated Europeans who were literally feeding parrots out of their hands. They gave us some seed so we could try it out, and it was immensely enjoyable, even when a parrot started to claw at my scalp (I guess in the end, my mum was right- something did try and nest in my hair). After having had our fill of playing that crazy bird lady from Mary Poppins, we went on to spot some Koalas hanging high in the trees. Whenever I see Koalas in the wild (and that is a 'whenever' now- I love my life!), I'm always struck by the fact that they're not more afraid of heights; they're so tiny and they live in such high places, and they're quite rotund so they bulge out over the branches quite a lot...I just worry for them is all.

After this, we made a beeline for the apostles. Now, I saw a beeline, but that's not really possible on the GOR, as we in the know call it.

Found here

That is an aerial shot of the road upon which we were travelling- as you can tell, it's somewhat bendy. Now, I have suffered from carsickness since I was a young'un, and I was reminded of this fact yesterday. Not wanting to be a hassle (not that there's anything that could be done anyway- it's not like Laura chose to drive bendily), I closed my eyes to try and alleviate the symptoms.
When I opened them, we were there. I estimate I was only asleep for thirty minutes, and for most of that, we were driving through repetitive forest, so I don't think I missed much. Anyway, we drove back in the dark, so I'll never know.

But, yes, the apostles.

Found here

For those not in the know, as I was before visiting Oz, the apostles are limestone stacks, all clustered together like Penguins. You'd think, being a Wenlock boy, I'd be sick to vomiting of limestone, but I have to admit....they're quite beautiful. I don't know why- there's just something so striking about them up close. The severity of the cliffs, plus the roaring oceans, plus these portly little monoliths...it's just dramatic. And very affecting. There was also possibly the most direct warning sign I've seen in my life-

"Don't cross fence. Unstable Cliff. You'll fall and DIE."

Alrighty then. Roger that. After watching the stacks erode in real time for a while, we decided it was time to head back. I could describe the return journey, but I've decided to save it for Volume 2: Mr. Trackwork Goes to Villawood. Just know it contained a lot of talk about murder.
A LOT.

*Honestly surprised I had to point that out.

Let's misbehave

I was just lunching with the absolutely incorrigible Charlotte Salusinszky, and explaining about my anxiety about returning to Great Britain when she came up with absolutely the best solution to the problem: a time machine.
That way I could totally do everything I wanted to in Australia, get bored with it and then still make it in time to catch my flight. Wouldn't that just be swell? So, if anyone has one spare that they could let me use, I'd really appreciate it.
While lunching, Charlotte offhandedly expressed her wonder at one of my descriptions of myself from my Edinburgh time, specifically with regards to desperation for attention et al, and I was proud to see how far I'd come (at least in one person's view) in just a year. 

Speaking of delisting my bucket list, so a mere bucket will be left, I'll be visiting the Great Ocean Road tomorrow. My first thought on this is that Australians like prefixing their tourist attractions with 'Great', which makes me feel like they're compensating for something. My second was that I'll be going with a bunch of strangers, which made me nervous, but then I thought of Phillip Island, and how awesomely that turned out.

Some were known to remark that it was 'neato'.

It's hard to believe that that yank above has now graduated with highest honours. Well done, Hannibal, sir. Now you can get back to solving that Buffalo Bill case.

In other news, we had a mini-Aussie Rules reunion on Sunday, which involved Pancake Parlour, which I kind of think of as my equivalent to Central Perk from Friends, even though I've been to about three different branches of it. I say 'mini-' because it was only me, my stage sister Emily and Alan-a, who insists upon placing a hyphon in her name for some strange reason and has been literally throwing fits because she has not appeared on this blog yet. So hello to Alan.
A.

In other news, I have an essay due in in a week and I'm already nine tenths of the way through it, so expect to rest on my laurels for the rest of the week, and so an influx of more posts like this, which really didn't have any content. Alack.

King Kong, King Kong, he's very, very big and he's very, very strong

I saw King Kong on Thursday, as an end of semester treat (yes, I've now finished my final semester at Melbourne), and, since some of my friends have expressed an interest in seeing it, I will put down my thoughts that they might be better advised as to whether or not to part with their hard earned money.

I will say it upfront that the music and acting are terrible: of all the songs, I remember only two, and even then only because they were established songs I already knew and I was wondering if they were public domain or not. One, possibly more, of the songs, were electro-dance tracks, and this is terrible because not only is the play set in the 1920s, when such songs did not exist, but also because that's one of the few attractive features of the 20s in my eyes. The title of this blogpost is a direct example of the deft lyrics you will encounter if you go and see this show. You can only imagine the other delights that await you.
Similarly, the characters are poorly drawn and not interesting in the slightest- I don't even remember their names, despite them being shoehorned into the dialogue every five minutes. They're boring and annoying and honestly just being in their company seems like a waste of one's life- I'm not surprised the lass falls for the ape, as he's by far the most intellectually stimulating of the people she meets; what I can't fathom is what Kong sees in her.
And this brings me to the turning point of this review: the ape is AMAZING.

Just amazing.
For one thing, it's huge- I was way in the back (cheap seats, y'know) and I really got the feeling that there was a forty foot gorilla in front of me. I just couldn't comprehend how they could manoeuvre something like that about the stage- it was at least four times the height of anyone on stage. It was mind-blowing.
And for another, the facial expressions this thing pulls are phenomenal- you really see the emotion in every single thing he does, more so than in anyone else on stage, but that's not saying much. At one point, the puppet made eye contact with me, and I started welling up. I actually started to tear up. It was fantastic.
The staging on the whole is very...exciting. Overly so at times. They really capture the feeling of a ship at one point, but at another they completely fail to capture the feeling of a city, opting instead for a coked-up nightclub. At one point, our heroine is being unconvincingly chased by the police or mobsters or rapists or something (it's not made clear), and runs right into a vaudeville show. Why? How? Who knows? Who cares? It's a chance to have a completely gratuitous chorus of girls in panties! YAY! This experience is repeated when the same heroine has a dream sequence where of bunch of actresses or hookers or showgirls or drag queens (it's not made clear) tell her to get dolled up before her screen test, only for the director to tell her she doesn't need to change the way she looks for the public. Thank God they got the ticket-shilling lingerie models on display before he told her that, right? Phew.
All in all, I actually would recommend King Kong. The puppet is just that fucking good. Just arrive forty minutes late and avoid the tedious "human" ""interaction"" at the beginning.

365

A year from today, I will be finished with my undergraduate degree.

This is quite a terrifying thought: it signifies onrushing adulthood, a looming crossroads and that there have been three years since I finished sixth form, which I cannot fathom.

Unusually, I can actually recall my last day at Shrewsbury; frollicking in the meadows, building human pyrids, my friends sneaking me drinks at weatherspoon's cos I'd forgotten my ID. I simply cannot comprehend that that happened three years ago. It makes no sense.

I am inordinately grateful that I took this year in Melbourne, for a multitude of reasons, but at the moment because it's given me an increased fervour for my subject. Before coming to Melbourne, I was seriously considering dropping out of uni, convinced that I'd made the wrong choice, that I had no future in my elected domain, that I was going to fail. I watched in envy as Becky and James and Sam took everything in their stride and I couldn't even manage a single step forward (or so it felt- I obviously made some advances in academia, else I wouldn't be here). I refuse to take all the blame for this melancholy- I truly feel that Edinburgh put some of their worst feet forward during second year (incidentally, this criticism is moot now because I was the last year to do my course): syntax, phonetics and globish all in one year? It's like they wanted us to stop caring. But, yes; I was dissatisfied and dreading honours. Now? I kinda wanna do post-grad; obviously, some of that comes from there being more choice in honours, but I think it also is due to Melbourne Uni's different approach to the tertiary educational experience and, most importantly, some of the professors I've had here. 

I'm trying very hard not to completely disregard Edinburgh; when skyping Daniel recently, he accused me of exaggerating my dissatisfaction there, and that's not at all what I'm aiming to do. But, I also feel I have to be honest (or else, what is the point of this blog?) and I really credit Melbourne with rejuvenating my appreciation of my course. 

Ask me in a year what I want to do and maybe the answer will be radically different, but currently further education is top of the list. 

...I kinda wish it was something less expensive.

And, to make this post not just words, here's a picture of Victoria and I molesting a giant Manta. And, no, there's no glass.

It's Later Now

So, Aussie Rules is finished, and, with it, the penultimate stage of my time in Oz. We are not entering the final chapter of my time here (I was gonna use the final chapter title from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz as the title for this post, but that's Home Again, which doesn't really suit this post, and the chapter before that is the rather esoteric (and spoilerish) Glinda the Good Witch Grants Dorothy's Wish, so I'll have to come up with something on my own). Granted, I have two assignments, one test and one exam to go before I'm done with uni, but I saw Aussie Rules as the last bastion of mid-exchange-year-Rory, a lad who could still sleep in if he wanted to, or take on a show, after all he'd have time later to see Oz- well, It's Later Now (ok, title found).
To mark this occasion, I have booked my tickets for New Zealand, and, even more excitingly, shaved my face. Yes, I took the advice of that drunk lady on the train and got a hair cut. Just not on my pate. I have a few other plans for my time here (hopefully Uluru and more penguins).

Ladies. 

Aussie Rules went very well; my hats off to Andrew for pulling off the frankly bizarre idea he pitched to me all the way back in October ('No, see, cos football is Islam...'). I had some one thank me personally for my performance and say he'd come specifically to see me (having been bowled over by me in Confetti and Everything) and honestly this was a lot more pleasant than the fan I had in Edinburgh, who walked up to me in the middle of the meadows and whispered 'multim olim' in my ear AT ONE IN THE FUCKING MORNING. But, yes, Aussie Rules was a success, and I'm proud to have it as my final impression upon the melbourne acting scene (though not the theatre scene in general- hello, BESTies).
Speaking of theatre, it was over two weeks ago, but I needs must mention the Amadeus pre-show sing-off. If only because I got to fulfill my dreams of singing 'American Pie', 'Moonriver', 'Blue Moon' and 'Mr. Sandman' before an extremely captive audience. Also, on the final night I did what can only be called an astonishing rendition of the song below.

Let that image burn into your retinas.

In other news, I skyped with Esmond on Friday, and it was lovely: we spoke for two and a half hours, and despite ten months apart, we still fell into conversation so easily. It's nice to know I'll have at least one friend when I return to the Great Wet North (I thought of that on Wednesday and by God, I'll get the mileage out of it).

In other other news, it was Victoria's birthday last Saturday, and, wouldn'tcha know, she had a sci-fi party, so naturally....

The very definition of a coquette.

What? You can't guess? I'm Poison Ivy from Batman and Robin. Duh. I mean, the hair's a little off, and I've really made no effort at all apart from holding a plastic flower and wearing a Batman-related T-shirt, but I think everyone can agree I've adequately captured the campy awfulness of that film.
The party was a lot of fun, and I got to see Victoria's assorted friends, probably for the last time before I head off; as Ryan North is wont to say, 'partying is such sweet sorrow'.

Last night was Eurovision here in Ozland, and, much like with the Olympics, I found myself the token pom in a group of Aussies watching something distinctly English. I got a lot of mileage out of the fact that no one gave us any points (it's all political, I tell ya), but I didn't realise how seriously the Antipodeans take the damn thing. Everyone, that is, except the closed captions guy, who added such delightful additions as 'you can guess what she said' and 'what's she gonna do with flowers? Put them down.'
Victoria, Aspen, Michael and myself were enraptured by the cheesiness, and I found Aspen's knowledge of past contestants to be vastly superior to my own, which isn't actually saying all that much, but she remembered 'I'm in love with a fairytale', which I only recall because it was the night I came out. Funny old world, innit?

Finally, when I was crossing the road this morning, my hood slipped (yes, it's finally started raining in Oz- laugh it up, Edinburghers), and when I lifted it, there was a car right in front of me. It was really very terrifying. I also realised I hadn't updated this thing in ages and I didn't want to die without you guys having heard my inane prattle for a month! Hence, this post.
Blame the hood.

Boasting, unadulterated boasting

This is another post I never thought I'd write, but I'm just so happy right now that I feel it's completely justified.
As some of you may know, I starred in Amadeus in my first year- during that time, I received my first ever personal review for my acting. It wasn't positive. It wasn't exactly negative, but I remember the phrases 'graceful as a hippo', 'screeching' and 'not quite there' (I searched for the review, but couldn't find it on google- I don't quite know why I'm resurrecting it on the web).
I just got in the review for the current production of Amadeus. And what I love are the parrallels- this review, as with the previous, is just on some guy's blog. They don't know me, they're not writing for an official publication, they're not a theatre critic. It's just some person's opinion.
And in that person's opinion, I am 'amusing'. That's all they said, but that's more than enough. I have improved. I have palpably improved. There is real, undeniable proof that I am making progress in one of the fields to which I have decided to donate my energy, and that makes me so very, very happy.
Go me.

P.S. That old review said some very mean things about Rik. We are not amused.

The thousand yard stare of a man who burned to death and lived to tell the tale.

Karma

I have been trying to avoid posts like this on this blog, as I've wanted to downplay my spiteful streak whilst down under, but Henriette said I was allowed a little bit of gloating every now and then and I choose now, rather than then.

Today, I had my practical phonetics tutorial- it was on Praat, a programme with which I am passingly familiar. My tutor, whom we will call Dick, because that's a name people can have and no other reason, asked us to name certain phones as they came up; I answered his questions, correctly, I might add; he snapped at me 'why don't you stop butting in and give other people a chance to answer?', so I didn't answer any more questions during the tute.
And neither did anyone else.

There were entire minutes of silence, where Dick fervently waited for someone to identify the correct phoneme, and no one did. These silences were so pregnant people kept on asking exactly how many babies it had in there. And all Dick could find to punctuate these soundless eons? The only words he could find to fill this room, so devoid of the noise that he claims to understand? 'I feel like a failure'.

Good.You should, Dick.
I fully intend to not answer any more questions in Dick's classroom, and let the deafening sound of his own complete incompetence ring loud in his ears as a class full of undergraduates show him exactly how little he has taught them. I'll let the crippling screech of his inadequacy echo throughout that cacophonous room and smile as he sinks deeper into a depression of his own making.
Because I am nothing if not obedient.

Oh, and to add a cherry to this delicious revenge cream cake; he handed out assignments today and I got a H1.
Match point, dick*.

*Deliberately left uncapitalised.

Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor

And then it was May.

We are not amused.

I must confess a touch of panic about doing all that I want before I leave- I have seventy days left in Australia, if you count the final few hours I will spend trying to sleep in Sydney Airport, which I am doing only to give this post a nice round number to which to attach itself.
I've been trying to make lists of all those things I want to do before I must shuffle off this antipodean coil, but there are just so many. In the top ten there are certainly see the penguins again (either St Kilda or Philip Island, it doesn't matter which- hell, even the aquarium would count if I do the motherfuckin' PENGUIN PASSPORT!), visit Tasmania or New Zealand (Old Zealand just looks dull, to be frank), or both if there's money. I want to see another part of Australia- Adelaide, Perth or maybe even Uluru, which I apparent keep mispronouncing as 'Ayres rock'.
I think back to Jason, and the madcap antics of his final days here- which were only in December, but now seem like they happened before the invention of Radio (I swear, I remember them in Sepia with title cards)- how he kept repeating all the things he longed to accomplish in Oz, and how, when he clicked his heels together and vanished from sight, there were still so many he hadn't brought to fruition; like visiting the Silver K Gallery or the Ballarat Wildlife Park. And then I look back on my Edinburgh bucket list and see that I only did about half the things on there before I got the heck outta dodge, and I begin to think that maybe you'll never do everything you want to, no matter where you are; I'm sure there must be something in Shropshire I haven't done, like...
...
Moving on.

So, I'm waiting until my exam timetable is released, which, according to my venticelli, will be this Friday, and then I'm gonna plot out my remaining few weeks here, and just try to see as much as possible and remind myself that you can find pictures of everything on Google, so travel's just flogging a dead horse anyway.

After being bitten by a retroactive spider...

So, I've decided that this is my blog and I can do what I want and I'm gonna write a blog post a month after the fact, and what can all of you do about it?
(You may have noticed that there have been three different blog posts in the last two days- this is because I have an assignment due and it's never so easy to write as when you're meant to be doing something else.)

So, 24 hour play- Andrew encouraged me to do it, and I'm so glad I did. It's not the first such endeavor I've undertaken, but it's the first time I've been on the acting side of the coin. As you will see at the end, this was quite a debut.
The 24 hour plays at Melbourne are structured differently to those of Bedlam (fancy that!). For one thing, things are much more randomised; writers and directors find each other in a weird mating ritual involving blindfolds, a circle of onlookers and, at least in my case, a half-eaten mannequin with the word 'Kerrick' scrawled on it (and, honestly, all the best rituals do); each writer/director pair is then assigned the number of actors to which they will have access using dice. I decided to join group number one because a) I wanted to meet new people and thus, sadly, not team up with Andrew and b) I hadn't spoken for, like, eight minutes and that's just too long.

As you can see, I chose the cheery bunch.

Group number one would later become B.E.S.T., whom I believe I have posted about before- they consisted of Laura, David, Wilson, Maddi, a third Daniel, a second Declan and a first Greta. Declan was our director, Wilson our writer. We were then assigned, through the use of slips of paper in various hats, a random object (a paintbrush), a starting location (a wedding), an event that must happen over the course of the play (someone winning something) and two words we must include ('clutter' and 'hydrocarbon') he concocted for us a dark comedy called 'confetti and everything'. Set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland and concerning the adventures of a princess and a painter, I played an alcoholic priest and...well, I won't spoil it.

Over the course of the rehearsals, I acquired several new in-jokes ('mazel tov' and 'deep inside death' being the primary among them), some new friends and a badass top hat, which I sadly didn't just steal for myself. Definitely worth the eleven hours' rehearsing, I feel. 

So, without further adieu, gracious ladies, obliging gentlemen, and, of course, Jari, I present to you, Confetti and Everything.

"If you want to milk plows or cow fields"

So far, in the course of my adventures in Oz, I've acted against someone who's in Neighbours and auditioned against someone who was in Summer Heights High, not to mention being the same audience as Geoffrey "I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request" Rush. But now, I think, I have reached a whole new height of star-interaction.
For, you see, yesterday, Tuesday the 9th April 2013, at 2.15pm, on a sunny afternoon in Melbourne, I made a short film with none other than motherfucking Sportacus from Lazytown.

As badass as scarface?

Not only that- I had actual lines (the humorous spoonerism that resulted from such makes the titles of this post) in a film with Sportacus. I was even DIRECTED by Sportacus. He told me he liked my line reading.
Swoon.


Daniel, you're not the only one who's acting career has taken a major leap forward in the past two weeks. 

The most easter(n)ly break yet

Wow, what a break!
This was my fourth consecutive easter away from home (I know, I know, I'm such a rebel) and probably the most jam-packed that I can remember.

On Good Friday, Victoria, Michael and I went to the Melbourne Aquarium (Michael was the host of the Australia Day barbecue I attended, and also Aspen's sweetheart); I always enjoy aquariums and zoos- there's just something about watching animals that I find incredibly interesting, even when they're not really doing anything.

I swear to God I stared at this thing for ten solid minutes, waiting for it to move.

Also, there were PENGUINS! And there's even something called 'the Penguin Passport' where you can ENTER THE MOTHERFUCKING PENGUIN ENCLOSURE!!!!!
So, yeah, that's happening.

On Sunday, we had an easter egg hunt, which was so well thought through that half the eggs weren't even found and, to my knowledge, there are still some to be claimed. Victoria and I also teamed up for an egg and spoon race, and came second, but only because I wasn't allowed to use my pasta spoon, which is, apparently, 'cheating'.

The next day, I travelled to Somers to stay at Maddi's (one of the B.E.S.T.ies) summer house for a couple of days. It was totes sweet: we swam, played pictionary (I won), Smart ass (I won) and Jenga (I toppled it and thus, you guessed it, won), had fires on the beach (which is illegal, so if anyone asks we sat on the beach at night in a rough circle around a patch of sand). But the best part is that Laura and David declared their love for one another while I was trying to sleep- I just love being friends with couples.

I stayed at Maddi's until wednesday, then returned for an evening Amadeus rehearsal.

The next two days were spent rehearsing Aussie Rules, during which I learnt some yoga positions and got to practice dying in other people's spotlights, both of which are, I think, skills entirely transferable to the workplace.

Then, on Friday evening, I travelled to an Amadeus rehearsal camp in the most cineliterarily named town I've ever encountered- 'Rosebud' (I really wanted to patronise the Rosebud cinema, but sadly did not get round to it.)
'Rehearsal camps' are apparently a not uncommon thing at Melbourne Uni (and, I think, Australian theatre in general), but I had never heard of one before. From my direct experience, they involve: acting, singing, alcohol, photoshoots, improvisation, king's cup, alcohol, would you rather?, truth or dare, alcohol and lots of conversation about the Amish. I can only assume that this is typical.
I also got to go for a quick dip in the sea in between run throughs, meaning I swam in the sea twice in a week when there's still snow on the ground back home. This is my life now.

There are two superlatives connected to this easter break: it was the week I spent least time on the internet in at least five years, as neither Maddi's house nor the Rosebud brothel had internet, so for four days out of nine I didn't log on at all.
It was also the holiday where I drank the most, with another four days ending in tipsyness. Progress. 

But all good things must come to an end and I am now back in the world of schoolery: I have an assignment due on Thursday and have just recieved inspiration for a possible linguistic study in the future. Fun times?

La voce to me

Yesterday, I went about the course of collecting actual Linguistic data (I know, I know living red letter). I ventured into the suburbs of Central Melbourne with a flotilla of my fellow Linguistadors and recorded a 22-month-old girl named Molly talking at us.
It was actually a lot of fun: Molly showed us her DVDs and was surprisingly film literate for a toddler, having seen Finding Nemo, Alice in Wonderland and The Little Mermaid, which is more than Esmond- although she insisted Ursula the sea witch was nice and liked Ariel. Not an interpretation I'd encountered before.

Although...

She also argued with her mother over whether a pink koala toy was a pig or a marsupial and won with the astounding display of reasoning 'koalas aren't pink', which none of us could refute (although Koala joeys are hairless.) She also brought a little of that lovely child reasoning when, upon being informed that a dentist was a 'doctor who looks at your teeth', she inquired, with some alarm, 'why?!'
All in all, not a bad way to collect data for one's subject; in fact, Barbara told us about a man who gave his children special backpacks which would record his young children speaking...and caught his wife carrying on with, as Barbara put it, 'Mr. Neighbor'.
So, practical, too.

In other news, I went to two parties this weekend, and so am just the belle of the ball, aren't I? One was a get together with the guys from B.E.S.T., who were my 24 hour play group (I meant to blog about that...oops), where we watched a bunch of movie musicals and realised just how rapey Grease is. Sadly, I had to go to bed before Les Mis was put on, otherwise I very well may have brought Gavroche back to life, nine years (what the hell?) after his untimely death.
T'other was an Amadeus get-to-know-the-cast affair, where two very promising candidates for quotes of the year were delivered. One came from Henry Shaw, director extraordinaire, and was in the manner of a film trailer voice-over; t'other came from Dave, who plays Salieri, and was a brand new species of Pokemon; both can be found on the Quotes page.

And, finally, according to Victoria Andrew, I was in tune for an entire song last Wednesday. This is a personal record.

He ate your father in front of you

So, Daniel got into Drama school. Aside from being the single biggest contributor to this blog (after myself, of course), Daniel also holds the distinction of being one of the few actors I have 'discovered'.

And what a discovery it was.

Of course, Danny boy himself might dispute this, and argue that he even had some professional roles in Spain but buckus, I say, that damn Spider is where your career started in the English speaking world!

This guy.

The only person whom I believe could challenge me as title-bearer of Godfather of Daniel's theatrical career is Ian, and though Daniel did indeed have lines in Vatnsdal, I don't believe that play truly tapped into Daniel's talents. His cackling, baton-twirling, cross-dressing talents. All of which TWWOO used to great, if somewhat psychodelic, effect.
And, thus, I'm very proud to say that another one of my babies has hatched into a beautiful butterfly. Now, Joseph just needs to make something of his life.
Like that'll ever happen.

In less self-congratulatory news, I got to watch someone else directing my work for the first time last Sunday. This is only the second time someone else has actually helmed a project to which I contributed the script: but during The Ten Minuters I only ever saw the finished product, not the 'making of'. And I have to say, it was weird- seeing my words come to life but with no control over how they lived. I now know how my parents feel. No wonder they're always so disappointed with me.
P.S. For Posterity's sake, this play is Aladdin, a pantomime I've written to be performed for sick children. (And also children who are ill- get it?)

And finally, I've started Language in Aboriginal Australia and it's really fascinating- the culture is so different from what I'm used to that it means everything I'm learning is completely unexpected and brand new. I haven't had that for a while.
First Language Acquisition is also proving as interesting as I'd hoped and I was actually presented with some tangible proof for innatism, which I never imagined would happen and may merit further investigation.
Phonetics has sadly segued into ear training, which boils down to weeks and weeks of watching one's tutor/professor repeat the same sound twice and ask 'did you hear the difference that time?' to which the answer is inevitably 'no'. Not as frustrating as syntax, certainly, but quite bad.
So, all in all, quite a good term so far.

"Do you know how fragile the human skull is?"

Work has now begun in earnest for Aussie Rules. Last night, we had the first rehearsal, in which Andrew had us do a theatrical exercise wherein I wanted to leave the room by a certain door and my costar was to block me. At first, we weren't allowed to touch, and Andrew told me to leave the room by any means possible. This lead to me uttering the title of this blog post, utterly deadpan and entirely serious to said costar. After that, Andrew said we were allowed to get physical and I walked right out, nearly clipping Tom's head on the door frame on the way out.
It's now been a long time since we I've rehearsed something (not counting 24 hour play), and I forgot how intense such sessions could get. I think a large part of this is due to Andrew, who is very confrontational in his directorial style (in no way a criticism), and the other is that this is my first part since, I believe, Vatnsdal which isn't mostly comical- I'd forgotten how difficult it is to be sincere and unaffected when acting (Tom quite correctly noticed I was 'blocking' during one exercise, when I couldn't stop laughing). But it's always a goal of Andrew's to intrude into people's comfort zones, and why shouldn't that include his actors?

For a role that is almost entirely comic, look no further than Emperor Joseph, whom I will be realising in Amadeus. Yes, things have come full circle (about a year early, I'm disappointed to say), and I am once again starring in Peter Shaffer's tale of jealousy and nipples; however, in a twist that shows how much I've advanced as an actor and a person, I'm no longer the shouty, pompous German but now the serene, foolish emperor. It was odd at the readthrough to hear the lines with which I was so familiar (in the way you're familiar with the living room of a house you lived in five years ago), with completely different accents, inflections, and, in some cases, genders to the voices that I was used to. Rik Hart, for example, the epitome of old-school British Gentlemanliness, was substituted for an Australian girl, and that was when I first felt I wasn't in Kansas anymore. Interestingly, David K. Barnes being replaced by a petite Aussie lass felt completely natural. I think maybe because Strack is quite effeminate himself.
Maybe.
As for my own reading, I'll admit there's more than a dash of Sasha in there, but fuck it, what's he gonna do? Tall me to death?

Above: Artist's rendition of Sasha preparing for battle.

In other news, I've exchanged Semantics for Language in Aboriginal Australia, which will hopefully be insightful and uniquely Australian.And, in First Language Acquisition, we are once again touching on Innatism versus socialisation theories, and I still don't understand Innatism because there just seem to be so many flaws in the theory. (Innatism holds that humans can acquire language without really being taught it- my problems with this idea are numerous). I asked my professor, and she just said 'exactly', which, although affirming because I was right, wasn't all that helpful. I'll have to ask Jimminy about it, I think he's an innatist (fool).