Dirk Flinthart Endorses...

"Cool Blooz" safety glasses by some corporation that uses "MSA" as a logo.

Back when I rode motorbikes a lot more than was actually safe, I got into the habit of wearing safety glasses because I was never really very fond of helmet visors. But there's a lot more it to that. These things possess many advantages over your standard fashion sunglasses, to wit:

• They really are safety glasses. I get 'em from the hardware store. They wrap around nicely, and keep things like flying woodchips, metal flecks, bugs and bits of vegetation out of your eyes. You can wear 'em in the workshop with a fair degree of confidence.
• They are also fully UV protective, in accordance with the Australian design standards for UV-resistant sunwear.
• They're not actually ugly.
• The frames are tough and flexible. You really can sit on these by accident, then wear them afterwards without any problems.
• They fit really comfortably.
• They're not expensive: these things retail at about $20 Australian. I don't know about you, but the last time I tried to find a pair of fashion sunglasses I could stand wearing, they started close to $100... and to get a pair with all the advantages listed above, you had to get closer to $150 or more.

So, there you have it. No: nobody has given me a pair of these things to review. I just like 'em. They're a good product, and I figured other people might find it useful to know about 'em.

In other news: plodding painfully towards year's end. The Ju-jitsu barbecue is done at last. It rained on us, naturally, but not too much, and the park has great shelters as well as really good electric barbecues supplied by the council. Many sausages and chickeny bits were consumed, and the attendees appeared to have a fine time. We kick off again February next year, so for a while, I don't have to figure out what I'm going to teach every Wednesday afternoon. Yay!

Medical Student Grace has returned Brizwards today. She was a fine guest, and will be missed. But Medical Student Chrissie is stepping neatly into the gap, so we're not short of guests, or in danger of loneliness.

Natalie gets back from Canberra today, in a couple of hours. She's been involved in some project to help the Fed Govt set policy on home births, midwifery, and Big Serious Stuff like that. Naturally, she's also on call tonight. Which is how it works around here at the moment.

Elder Son appears to have a solid grip on "Silent Night", to be played for the school assemby on Monday. A few more practices to smooth it out, and we'll be good to go.

Smaller Son will have his birthday party tomorrow. That will be my job, because Natalie has to take Elder Son to Launceston for his music teacher's end-of-year concert. Why do music teachers feel the need for such things? Ah, hell. Never mind.

I have made the error of letting Smaller Son play around with a beat-up old French Horn which was in the music room while Elder Son was having a cello lesson. The look of absolute glee on his face, coupled with a startling amount of control shown in producing tone... yeah. Okay. There are no French Horn instructors around Scottsdale. But we may have to look into this.

Okay. Must run. Time is up. Adios!

His Hoopiness The Dalai Dude

I did a 500km round trip today. Drove all the way to Hobart and back. I took Elder Son with me, and carried a random passenger as well. The reason?

The Dalai Lama was having a public gabfest at the Derwent Dome.

For those who don't know, I'm strongly interested by the Buddhist philosophies, although I'm definitely more focused on Zen than the Tibetan tradition. However, I've read a few of the Dalai Guy's books, and I've been greatly intrigued by the man himself.

The irony of his position, for example -- that's fascinating. If China had stayed the fuck outta Tibet, I think we can all agree that the Dalai Lama would probably be nothing more than a minor notable, one of those colourful characters from the backwaters of the planet. Oh, sure: he'd still be full of good sense and compassion, but if China hadn't decided to shit all over Tibet, chances are he would be perceived mostly as 'quaint'. But precisely because China got out the Ugly Stick and waved it around, the Dalai Lama became a player on the international stage, and a very clear thorn in China's side.

Anyhow, I figured this was probably a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see him do his thing, and so I cleared it with the school and took both Elder Son and another interested local with me on the long trek.

The lecture itself was entitled something about 'Who Is Responsible For Our Future', but before the Dalai Guy we got a few words from Senator Bob Brown, a local Aboriginal Elder, and the head of the Conservation Foundation of Australia. There was also a videorecorded message from Cate Blanchett for the CFA, but it was either intended for the deaf, or for mimes, because even though her lips were moving up there on the big screens, we never actually heard a word from her. Oh well. And then, of course, His Dalainess trundled up in his purply robage, and began distributing long white scarves hither and yon. "Part of our culture," he explained, looping one over Bob Brown, and another over the Aboriginal Elder, and another one over the bloke in the grey suit with the microphone, who seemed to have the job of shoving his foot in his mouth by way of introducing everyone.

Whole lotta scarves there. Gotta wonder who packs all those things.

The lecture itself was nothing spectacular, but I wasn't there to take in revelations. I was interested in the man himself, and the 'sense' of him as a person, a character, a public figure and a communicator. He spoke simply, emphasising compassion, awareness of self, understanding of others, self-confidence, truthfulness and trust. There wasn't a single word he offered that I could have disagreed with in any useful or meaningful way, and I rather hope that Elder Son took enough of it in to remember it. A lot of what Mr Lama could be very helpful to him in his growing and maturing.

Once the lecture -- really, it was an informal talk -- finished, there was a half-hour question time. And I'd like to fucking strangle the joker who filtered the questions. There was a box put out for the placing-in of questions, and I did avail myself, yes. On behalf of Angela Slatter, I asked what His Holiness actually wears under that purple robe, and I do admit I didn't expect that one to reach him. But I also asked what he thought his position on the world stage might have been if China hadn't taken a thunderdump on Tibet, and since I phrased it much more politely and diplomatically, I rather hoped he might have something to say.

Unfortunately, the egregious maroon who filtered the questions left in nothing but plaintive, rather new-agey Dorothy Dixers. "How can I find a lasting inner peace?" "How can I travel to Tibet, highlight the plight of the Tibetan people, and still take part in the Tibetan Buddhist spiritual experience?" "How can we raise the self-esteem of our young people?"

I mean, seriously. The guy's addressing a crowd of two or three thousand, and you want him to tell you, personally, how you achieve 'lasting inner peace'? He was clearly nonplussed by that one, though he answered politely and very kindly, as he did with all the reasonably meaningless questions. Some he dismissed with evident good humour, and a disarming laugh that couldn't have offended even an earnest new-age wisdom seeker. But unfortunately, none of the questions really called for much from him.

Overall, I was favourably impressed. His Holiness is a very comfortable, very relaxed speaker who doesn't take himself too seriously at all. At one point he was playing with the aerial wires for his hands-free mike and earpiece, obviously thinking they needed to be clipped safely out of the way. When someone gently corrected him, he giggled, and said "How foolish!" of himself -- and I have to admit, watching the spiritual leader of a major religion acknowledge his own fallibility and foolishness with grace and good humour was truly refreshing.

Likewise, I appreciated his willingness to support science and research, and I was delighted when he spoke out strongly in favour of secular teaching of morality and ethics. He made a point of defining secular, calling it 'equal respect for all religions rather than a rejection of religions', and emphasised that he held all religions in equal respect himself. I can't imagine a Pope pulling that one off... and as for hearing words like that from an Ayatollah or a Caliph -- the very idea is ridiculous.

One thing that struck me sharply, and saddened me, was the optimism of the man. He acknowledged it himself, and spoke of an improving, maturing human race, and of the ability of individuals to initiate and carry out positive change. A man dispossessed of his country, whose people are displaced and oppressed, whose culture is suppressed in his homeland... and yet somehow, he maintains more faith in human nature, more belief in a human future than perhaps I could ever muster, even when I was a child.

I'm not sure, but I suspect I envy him that optimism. For while I can, and do, follow the precepts of compassion, honesty, trust and awareness that he spoke of so simply and sincerely -- I do it without any real hope for a better outcome. I do it because I believe these things of myself, and because these things reflect the person I want myself to be, and I hope to continue in these ideals even if the world collapses. I don't need a 'better outcome'. The ideals themselves are sufficient.

But I think it would be nice to have real hope. I guess it's good to know the Dalai Lama does, anyhow.

Oooh. New Music!

I kinda like swing. Got myself a Gene Krupa album, yeah. And the odd Royal Crown Revue recording. But I also like odd stuff. And so I offer the Diablo Swing Orchestra, which is probably best described as manic/psychotic Goth Swing.

Here's a couple of YouTube links:

The Tap Dancer's Dilemma

Balrog Boogie

...suit yourself. They fit my sense of fun...

Wow. I Am Seriously Tired.

I've got a couple hours breather now. The house is quiet. Soon enough, I'll have to corral the kids and drive into Launceston to collect Chrissie the Medical Student, but for the moment, a brief, welcome island of peace.

I spent the early part of the morning assembling stuff. A small but strongly built table. Two bricks. A concrete paver. Twenty pieces of 20mm pine board, of convenient size for martial arts demos. A couple of decent-looking rubber knives. A bunch of flyers with contact details for the club on them. Uniforms for me, and for the boys.

Once I got all that into the car, I stuffed the kids in afterwards. Then I drove halfway to Scottsdale, and picked up two more kids.

I parked the car near the church hall where we train, and we carried all our gear into Victoria St, about a block away, where the demo was supposed to happen. Then I grabbed a few more people, and we made the trip back and forth from the hall a few times to collect mats. Well within the appropriate time, we had a 4x4 metre square laid out. It wasn't too bad, even with the road surface underneath.

The Christmas Parade in Scottsdale is a big event, locally. It's very cheerful - a much-loved institution that involves pretty much everyone, in some way or another. As a result, there was quite a crowd to see us doing our thing. The kids were definitely nervous.

I launched into my spiel: "...ancient fighting art of the Samurai... unarmed combat... fierce fighters... greatest martial artists on the entire street..." and picked up a few laughs, and then we went for it.

The kids were great. I set it up so we went from the smallest to the largest, and everybody got the chance to show off a bit. We had plenty of pine boards for smashing, and they dodged knives and threw each other and wrestled and kicked and pushed and shoved... I was quite proud of them.

The first surprise I pulled was at one of my older students. Jeremy is sixteen. He knew he was going to smash a few boards, but he'd only practiced with three. It looked too easy, so I set him up with four.

And why not? I strongly believe that one of the most important things to learn in any martial art is the capacity to get out of your comfort zone, and push things farther than you expect. I knew perfectly well that Jeremy had the strength and technique to manage an extra board, and he did just fine: big, arcing hammer-fist, shattered pine-boards flying everywhere, round of applause.

Then I put Adam on the mat. Adam is at uni this year, so he doesn't train routinely, but I put him through brown belt last year, and I have firm expectations of anybody I push that far. I picked up a short stick, showed him I was about to belt him over the head with it, and listed three particularly spectacular throws. Then I stepped in and did my best to crack him on the scone.

He performed beautifully. I vaguely recall brief periods of whirling weightlessness with my feet somewhere high over my head, and then there was a lot of crashing into the mat, and then a rather painful armlock applied until the stick was removed from my grasp. Full marks, that man...

I finished the whole thing with a couple of breaks. There's this striking technique I lifted from a friend in k'ung fu many years ago -- it's a snapping palm heel strike, but it's delivered with the full force of the body behind it, and if you learn to do it right, you can rest your fingertips against somebody's collarbone and still smash ribs -- but your hand doesn't actually move more than five or ten centimetres. You really have to get your shit in gear to manage it, though. Delivering a powerful strike with a ten centimetre travel-distance is a bit of a nifty trick. I used it to smash my way through two of those pine boards.

Finally, I stuck a concrete paver (about 45mm -- call it just shy of 2") between two bricks on the table, and smashed it with a hammer-fist. Took me two tries, though -- I was off-centre the first time.

It's probably good that I didn't manage it first go. After the show, I discovered that a lot of people in the crowd figured I'd somehow weakened the pine boards for the kids, which is just silly. But they definitely believed in the damned paver.

They'd better, mind you! After I smashed the damned thing, a piece of it fell off the table, and landed on my toe, cutting it.

So -- we finished up. And then everything had to be packed up, and the mats all put away again. And then the boys had to go to the Cub Scout float to ride in the parade, and lunches had to be obtained... and finally, I collected the Mau-Mau from our neighbours and made it home.

I'm absolutely bloody shagged out.

In The Kingdom Of Snot

I'm not normally an allergic sort of person. I've spent most of my life with some minor asthma, but that's it. Oh, sure -- here in Taz, when springtime really goes berserk, I'll occasionally have a day or two of sneezes. But lately... holy shit!

I've been waking up every day for the last month or so with sinuses full of concrete. Sneezing attacks that would do credit to Godzilla have ambushed me at regular intervals. One day, I literally sneezed myself hoarse.

Yesterday, I finally figured out what the frock is going on. Y'see, from 2006-2008 inclusive, we missed the winter rains, and spring was pretty damned patchy. This year, we had a seriously wet winter. Spring was marked by beautiful warm spells, interspersed with nice quantities of rain at useful times. Summer is behaving much the same so far, though a little cooler.

In other words, we've had one hell of a lead-up to the spring growing season, and it shows. The greenery around here could scare the brogue off a leprechaun.

So I finally got a new battery for the tractor, and put it back in the machine. Yesterday, seeing the weather report, I decided I needed to do some slashing while I could. I hopped on the tractor, and happily beetled off: cut the long grass that's been confounding the archery first. Then cleared around the kids' cubby. Then ducked down to the paddock below the house, wherein I have slowly been establishing many kinds of fruit trees. All up, I spent about two hours on the tractor.

It was about a half-hour in when I noticed I couldn't smell that lovely new-mown grass scent any more. In fact, my sinuses were starting to get that brutal, burning, crushing feeling going on... and that was when it clicked. For the first time in four years, we are knee-deep (on me!) in vibrant, green, uber-healthy flowering grass. It's fucking pollen central out there.

Didn't help my evening yesterday, I can tell you. Simultaneously organising dinner for two medical students, plus one of my older ju-jitsu students who is having an English exam today... he wanted help with the poetry side of things, and when he mentioned "Wilfred Owen", I said "Oh -- Dulce Et Decorum Est, right?" and he looked at me like I was some kind of evil wizard. But then I explained that the poem in question is the only one that high-school teachers ever seem to cover from Wilfred Owen, and it's probably the best known of all WWI poems, so it wasn't that clever of me.

Nevertheless: I was cooking like crazy, making Chinese-style steamed chicken dumplings, and chicken-and-sweet-corn soup, and setting up to make citrus ice cream when El Studento arrived. That was okay, because the kids promptly set upon him and took him on an extended tour. But then the med students (Grace and Kerri) arrived, so I had to start plating dinner. At this point, I was working through an extended analysis of the poem, handling three courses of food, and wrangling the kids to the table all at once, and frankly, I think things were starting to get fuzzy around the edges.

Happily, Grace and Kerri took over the soup (it only needed rice noodles by that time), and El Studento took time out to fang into the dumplings, so I had a free hand to drag kids into position, set plates, cutlery, drinks, etc. And then Natalie finally made it home.

Must say: the citrus ice cream over fresh rockmelon slices was pretty freakin' good. (I scalded lemon and orange zest in a little cream, and let it cool. Then I took that cream, and combined it with the regular ice cream ingredients, plus a little mascarpone to help it set. Ohhhh, yeah.)

Anyway, today I woke up yet again with killer snot, after a night of very limited sleep. So I popped a couple of commercial anti-snot drugs, but apparently they contained one of the sleepy-type antihistamines. Lately I've been getting plenty of exercise, minding my food, and not drinking too much, so the level of fitness has climbed a bit. As a result, the goddam snotkiller drugs acted very much like Stoopid Pills. I felt like a grade-A maroon all morning.

I have now sourced some of those one-pill all-day Wondersnot drugs. And having popped one, I'm enjoying both breathing, and wakefulness. It's an interesting change.

About time, too. Aside from the fact that the two junior medics will be back tonight for dinner (marinated charcoal-grilled chicken, smoky vegetable salad and chocolate-orange mousse, all entirely without gluten, thanks) we've got our regular Friday Night movie thing planned. And tomorrow, we've got the ju-jitsu demonstration. And then the boys are on the Cub Scout float. And afterwards, I'll pack up all three kids, go to the airport and collect another medical student (Chrissie. Yay!) who will be around for a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, on Sunday, Kerri gets a lift into Launceston, having done her stint for the year. Monday I will be frantically writing and working, because Tuesday, I've done something... well, not stupid, but definitely pushing the limits.

The Dalai Lama is speaking in Hobart on Tuesday afternoon. Elder Son and I have tickets. So I shall drive down in the morning, spend a couple hours soaking up karma-intensive presence and explaining to Elder Son why the guy on the stage is worth hearing. Then we'll turn around and drive right back again...

I sure hope the Dalai Lama appreciates the effort I'm going to!

Progress Report

Right:

Tractor is back in action. New battery, properly emplaced in the holder. Of course, the lead to the negative terminal was too short for this new battery (by scant millimetres, naturally) so I had to unhook it from the body of the tractor and find a new bolt I could use to anchor it. No big deal. Tractor runs. Tomorrow is out of the question. So is Friday. Saturday is incredibly overloaded. Sunday is no good either... but if it's fine on Monday, I may just be able to slash a couple of the paddocks. Yay.

Whipper-snipper and chainsaw are still with the repair-johnnies. This time of year they're busy as hell. But I expect to hear from 'em pretty soon, so maybe Monday, maybe Wednesday? I dunno.

Short story completed, sent off to the editors/publishers of the anthology. It's too soon for me to be sure what I think of it, but it worked out okay once I figured out which POV to use, and got rid of the first 2000 words. Yeesh.

Programme for the ju-jitsu demonstration on Saturday, for the Xmas Parade in Scottsdale has now been settled. Every kid has something they can do or contribute. We've got demos of throwing techniques, groundfighting, defenses against knives, free-fighting, lots of smashing of pine boards by kids of various ages, escapes from various grappling and grabbing attacks... should be enough to keep people entertained, what with the patented Flinthart patter to introduce each player.

Unfortunately, Natalie is on call over the weekend. This is particularly unfortunate because the two boys are involved in the Cub Scouts float. This means I can't just run away as soon as the ju-jitsu demo is over. I have to stick around for the whole show... and immediately after that, apparently, I have to throw the kids into the car and make a dash for the Launceston airport, where the next of our visiting medical students is due to make her arrival. Like I said: Saturday is a total write-off.

Garden beds for the rocket and cabbage are now prepped, waiting under weed-mat for the seedlings to be big enough to plant out. May have to throw a bit of compost and loose soil under there too, but overall it's ready to go.

Pruned the lower branches of the big Bay tree. Discovered two attempts at air-layering I did about a year and a half ago. Both have been extremely successful. I lopped both branches and planted them out, with lots of water. Might get a couple new Bay Laurels... hopefully.

Snow peas and strawberries producing nicely. Still have to add more growth support for the snow peas. Tomatoes are now in place, doing well.

Will drive to Launceston tomorrow to purchase more insulation. Probably grab some more pine boards for kids to smash at the demo, too. And maybe some structural timber for some of the garden work.

Elder Son's "Silent Night" progressing nicely. Note: when is the school event where he's supposed to play?

No progress at all on Younger Son's birthday party. This could be difficult...

Sword techniques progressing nicely. Noted with some satisfaction that I weathered the repetitive, strenuous training exercises with more aplomb than in recent past. Fitness moving up again - very good.

Stoopid baby chickens still alive. "Chicken Dome" device/cage to let them have days out on the grass now 3/4 complete. Need to finish applying bird-wire to the polypipe frame, and hang a watering station.

And in other news: jeez, I'm tired. Early night tonight. I've got a bit of work to do, reading and appraising a manuscript anyhow...

Culture of Politics, Politics of Culture.

The kiddy koncert yesterday went off more or less okay. Our two budding maestros were involved in the wee string orchestra, which played three (mercifully) short numbers in reasonably good order. Actually, they sounded surprisingly musical, and in their matching white shirts with red satin bowties and cummerbunds, the whole collection of kids are horribly cute.

However, the concert was also the yearly opportunity for a set of music teachers to permit their students a performance showcase. And I do understand that it's very helpful for the kids to get a chance to perform in front of an audience, yes. But oh, my. Oh, my. I do believe that aside from the three little orchestra pieces, there were something like forty other performance pieces, from students of various ages.

And then there was a break of ten or fifteen minutes, in which certificates were presented to all the students for their gradings etc. And a couple of awards were handed out. And then there were three more performance pieces.

All up, it ran from 1900 to a bit past 2100. I had to take off about half an hour before it ended, because the Mau-Mau was getting increasingly restive, and in the small theatre it was hard to keep her under control. To be brutally honest, I was glad of the excuse. The seats were low, and my knees were bent sharply. After more than an hour, I was in a certain amount of pain there.

Anyway. Tasmania's a small place in some ways, and the music/culture scene is one of them. To wit: there were two federal politicians there in the audience, both of whom (I believe) had family amongst the performers. And I found their concert-attendance behaviours really interesting.

One of 'em is a Liberal senator. As I walked out with the Mau-Mau, I passed him in a deserted corridor, mobile phone attached to his ear, deep in an earnest, highly political chat. (No, I didn't stay to listen. And even if I had, I wouldn't write about it. I have a strong belief in the privacy of others, including even politicians, Senator. Keep that in mind the next time the government wants to crush the Internet, eh?)

Now, fair enough: the Libs have their problems at the moment. It's nice he took the time to be at the concert at all. But he did, in fact, duck out halfway.

On the other end of the scale we had a female MHR in-house, and she made it through the entire show. Mind you, the moment she stepped out the mobile was glued to her ear like some kind of bizarre cyberpunk jewellery -- but she did get through the concert, sure. Of course, she's from the opposite side of Parliament, too.

It's interesting to wonder about their concert-attendance techniques because of the dichotomies between them. Long-time fed versus first-termer. Male versus female. Labor versus Liberal. Stable, government party situation versus wildly unstable leadership-struggle situation. You get the picture: so many variables in play that there's no way to draw any conclusions at all as to how they really felt about the concert, and what kind of roles they saw for themselves there, and why one would duck out halfway while the other would endure the entire thing.

One thing does puzzle me, though: WTF did politicians do before the advent of the mobile phone?

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And in other news: in keeping with the minor disaster theme of the day, I was helping the orchestra director place a very large, very heavy vase of flowers. I put the vase on the floor in the indicated site, using a very proper deep knee-bend technique to ensure my back didn't go ker-spung... and so my rather aged and worn trousers went ka-zortch instead. The seam down the arse literally shredded itself in one go, from just below the waistband to halfway down the inner thigh.

It was not a particularly enjoyable moment, but I can't say I was really bothered by it either. I really should have turfed those trousers a while back, but I quite liked them, so I ignored the fact that they were getting very thin in the arse region. You get what you deserve sometimes, eh?

I ducked up the road to K-mart, knowing it would still be open, and found a couple pairs of trews to purchase in replacement. The lass at the changing rooms thought my explanation as to why I'd be wearing one of the new trousers on the way out was rather funny...

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Final notes: the orchestra rehearsal was at 1430. The concert didn't kick off until 1900. That left us with some time to fill, and we didn't particularly want to drive home and then turn around and drive back again. So I managed to find a showing of Cloudy, With A Chance Of Meatballs that fit our schedule, and I'm very happy to say it was a lot of fun. The animation is the usual Pixar excellence. The writing was very good: fast, often very funny, frequently clever. There were plenty of jokes for the adults to pick up, including a lot of pop-culture film references tucked neatly into the script for you to enjoy if you spot them. Voice characterisations were excellent: particular kudos to Bruce Campbell as the sleazy mayor (fantastic combination of scripting, voicing and visualisation there), Neil Patrick Harris as Steve the Monkey (wearing a Monkey Thought Translator invented by the main character... frequently hilarious) and a really wonderful effort from Mr T as the township's manic black cop.

The slapstick stuff is plentiful, the visual gags are just fine, the story works, and I had a damned good time. Go and see it, with kids or without.