Gillian Polack's Blog, page 113
June 7, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-07T17:58:00
I have done the postcards! I have only 6 boxes out of the original 10, which means I will soon own 40% less postcards.
If anyone wants any, what I'm getting rid of is:
- an 8 inch pile of cards reproducing Royal Mail first day covers, covering about 20 years (with a few holes, but not many - Mum got a subscription to all the covers and I paid for a bit of it and got the postcards and the ones missing are the ones I want to keep, which is a very small number)
- a 24 inch stack (actually,, currently a stack and a flood, since they refused to remain upright) of miscellaneous postcards, containing everything from satire to theatre announcements and government issue. I was collecting ephemera for a project (history) and then I realised that I just couldn't store everything, and stopped. This is a really, really good selection of ephemera, though, for anyone who wants it for projects or teaching or writing inspiration or simply to collect ephemera.
- 7 inches of cards from various parts of the world, but especially from the US and Europe and Australia. I'm willing to separate these by country if anyone has an interest in a particular country.
- 3 inches of cards announcing new movie releases.
And that's it!
I hope to do a post office run on Monday, so if you want anything, please speak up. I will need reimbursement for postage, and some money for the cards (but not a lot - I need money, but I feel guilty selling them!).
If anyone wants any, what I'm getting rid of is:
- an 8 inch pile of cards reproducing Royal Mail first day covers, covering about 20 years (with a few holes, but not many - Mum got a subscription to all the covers and I paid for a bit of it and got the postcards and the ones missing are the ones I want to keep, which is a very small number)
- a 24 inch stack (actually,, currently a stack and a flood, since they refused to remain upright) of miscellaneous postcards, containing everything from satire to theatre announcements and government issue. I was collecting ephemera for a project (history) and then I realised that I just couldn't store everything, and stopped. This is a really, really good selection of ephemera, though, for anyone who wants it for projects or teaching or writing inspiration or simply to collect ephemera.
- 7 inches of cards from various parts of the world, but especially from the US and Europe and Australia. I'm willing to separate these by country if anyone has an interest in a particular country.
- 3 inches of cards announcing new movie releases.
And that's it!
I hope to do a post office run on Monday, so if you want anything, please speak up. I will need reimbursement for postage, and some money for the cards (but not a lot - I need money, but I feel guilty selling them!).
June 6, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-07T15:23:00
It's a not-quite-right day - though I did get to see L and I for a brief moment, which always redeems days a bit. We're having a strange, long weather change and it's a misery, plus, people keep on emailing me bad news. To be honest, this week has been full of bad news. Every other day, though, has had good news to brighten things up and make me eel needed and wanted and yesterday I snuck in several small accomplishments on the work side and felt almost pleased with things. Today, instead, I get my body echoing the incoming weather. I want to cancel the world's spinning and get off.
Instead, I am about to make strong coffee (much) and finish those postcards. For I refuse to have my life so absolutely impossible. It is, but I refuse to allow it to remain so.
Instead, I am about to make strong coffee (much) and finish those postcards. For I refuse to have my life so absolutely impossible. It is, but I refuse to allow it to remain so.
gillpolack @ 2013-06-07T01:58:00
I've made decisions on 75% of my postcards, but my brain is getting addled, so it's time to call it a night.
A lot of cards turn out to be from friends. If one collects postcards, friends send them to one. This meant that I spent my post-class evening with a lot of people I care for, but haven't seen at all in years. All my Malaysian, Singaporean and Indonesian friends sent me postcards of their favourite places near home, annotated. My Japanese friends sent me postcards from almost everywhere but Japan. My aunt sent me postcards from almost everywhere. It was lovely, but sad, and none of these can leave me.
I think I'll manage to get rid of about 1/5, despite this sudden discovery of my past, which diminishes my possessions by somewhat, at least. And those trails of my youth are intact. Very intact. Faced with the first postcard one has ever bought, and the first one was ever sent (by my wandering aunt), I had to keep that trail intact.
I shall leave you with a postcard from a family member that I was sent during my Toronto days. It says:
Gill
I haven't been here but it looks interesting.
PS Don't write.
Recently I've been worrying about my memory, but with the right prompts, it appears it's quite intact. I remember puzzling over that message with three of my Canadian friends, trying to work out its hidden meaning. What's more, I've been through seven and a half boxes of postcards and I can tell you when I got almost all of them and where and how, from the Japanese art cards (a newsagent at Shinjuku when I went to visit Kazuko on the way to London for research in 1986) to the ones of stalactites (a road trip from Melbourne to Adelaide, with my family, when I was a teenager). It's not a bad way to spend an evening, revisiting wonderful places and even more wonderful people.
A lot of cards turn out to be from friends. If one collects postcards, friends send them to one. This meant that I spent my post-class evening with a lot of people I care for, but haven't seen at all in years. All my Malaysian, Singaporean and Indonesian friends sent me postcards of their favourite places near home, annotated. My Japanese friends sent me postcards from almost everywhere but Japan. My aunt sent me postcards from almost everywhere. It was lovely, but sad, and none of these can leave me.
I think I'll manage to get rid of about 1/5, despite this sudden discovery of my past, which diminishes my possessions by somewhat, at least. And those trails of my youth are intact. Very intact. Faced with the first postcard one has ever bought, and the first one was ever sent (by my wandering aunt), I had to keep that trail intact.
I shall leave you with a postcard from a family member that I was sent during my Toronto days. It says:
Gill
I haven't been here but it looks interesting.
PS Don't write.
Recently I've been worrying about my memory, but with the right prompts, it appears it's quite intact. I remember puzzling over that message with three of my Canadian friends, trying to work out its hidden meaning. What's more, I've been through seven and a half boxes of postcards and I can tell you when I got almost all of them and where and how, from the Japanese art cards (a newsagent at Shinjuku when I went to visit Kazuko on the way to London for research in 1986) to the ones of stalactites (a road trip from Melbourne to Adelaide, with my family, when I was a teenager). It's not a bad way to spend an evening, revisiting wonderful places and even more wonderful people.
June 5, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-06T14:50:00
I have ventured into the small abyss (I'll venture into the big abyss later) and extracted all my postcards. There are ten boxes and I've been through two. I used the sort as a tool to work out what I want to do with them. Just working through them made me realise why I have the postcards in the first place. So...I've made decisions.
I'm keeping all my grandmother's postcards. This didn't take a decision: I can't imagine never wanting them. They're with my father's letters from WWII. He was doing training in Shepparton and wrote to a lady who he did not marry, so Mum entrusted them to me. I guess I'd be willing to leave both of these in the care of someone from the next generation if they asked, but I'm very happy to have them and plan to sit down with them and re-read the minute I get a chance. I'm missing my father more than somewhat right now. Those are all put aside safely.
The second box was one of the most recent ones and helped me make the harder decisions. Firstly, I don't need postcards of movie releases. They were for a project that never happened. I'm making a pile of them and they can go.
Second, I have quite a few duplicates (mostly art postcards, I think, with a few special events thrown in). They can go, too. And the ones from Women's History Month can go to the archive along with my other papers.
Third, are the ones I collected for work. I can put them all in teh same box and they can stay, of course.
Fourth are the tourist ones. Some of these I want, and some I don't want and the reasoning is just a little twisted. Most of them can go (which and I already have a taker for the ones of Greece and Italy!).
Fifth are the really personal ones. They can stay with my father's letters and grandmother's postcards for the moment.
My task for this evening is to sort the rest of the boxes (which are the crowded ones) into all these piles. Tomorrow I can put the ones that will remain back into the abyss. I'll post a list of those that are going (what type of card and how many) and if anyone wants to buy them, just shout out (although I should note that ones from Greek or Italy area already taken).
When this is done, I get to finish with the women's archival stuff, from my storeroom. Naomi is finishing the help from yesterday in just a few minutes and we'll move the papers from my storeroom into my library, with luck, and then I can start dealing with them.
All this is being done in the interstices of work. I'm being very productive. Last night, in fact, I had a bit of insomnia and I sued it to do some of today's actual work before I slept, which is actually rather good, for otherwise thing would get messy. From the end of next week, things will be a bit less impossible, for one reason or another. I'm hoping that my luck will change and the reasons will be good, but... who knows.
I'm keeping all my grandmother's postcards. This didn't take a decision: I can't imagine never wanting them. They're with my father's letters from WWII. He was doing training in Shepparton and wrote to a lady who he did not marry, so Mum entrusted them to me. I guess I'd be willing to leave both of these in the care of someone from the next generation if they asked, but I'm very happy to have them and plan to sit down with them and re-read the minute I get a chance. I'm missing my father more than somewhat right now. Those are all put aside safely.
The second box was one of the most recent ones and helped me make the harder decisions. Firstly, I don't need postcards of movie releases. They were for a project that never happened. I'm making a pile of them and they can go.
Second, I have quite a few duplicates (mostly art postcards, I think, with a few special events thrown in). They can go, too. And the ones from Women's History Month can go to the archive along with my other papers.
Third, are the ones I collected for work. I can put them all in teh same box and they can stay, of course.
Fourth are the tourist ones. Some of these I want, and some I don't want and the reasoning is just a little twisted. Most of them can go (which and I already have a taker for the ones of Greece and Italy!).
Fifth are the really personal ones. They can stay with my father's letters and grandmother's postcards for the moment.
My task for this evening is to sort the rest of the boxes (which are the crowded ones) into all these piles. Tomorrow I can put the ones that will remain back into the abyss. I'll post a list of those that are going (what type of card and how many) and if anyone wants to buy them, just shout out (although I should note that ones from Greek or Italy area already taken).
When this is done, I get to finish with the women's archival stuff, from my storeroom. Naomi is finishing the help from yesterday in just a few minutes and we'll move the papers from my storeroom into my library, with luck, and then I can start dealing with them.
All this is being done in the interstices of work. I'm being very productive. Last night, in fact, I had a bit of insomnia and I sued it to do some of today's actual work before I slept, which is actually rather good, for otherwise thing would get messy. From the end of next week, things will be a bit less impossible, for one reason or another. I'm hoping that my luck will change and the reasons will be good, but... who knows.
June 4, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-05T14:33:00
I should just accept that my life is bizarre right now, and that most of its oddness is unreportable. Within ten minutes today, for instance (all these things are reportable, for a change) I received a knockback for a job, a contract for a really cool bit of teaching later in the year and a request from a university to use something very ancient of mine in a class. Whenever this latter happens, I am a bit surprised, for it's never the items I expect will be useful that are asked about. In this case it's an item that I never thought anyone saw. Anyhow, bits of me are now being taught in four countries. I'm hoping that at least some of it is as comic relief. I suspect the requests to teach my material are because I tend to write laypersonishly, which affects my capacity to impress the heck out of academics (hence job knockbacks) but makes my material handy for undergraduates.
I had a nice talk with my writing students today about next week. I was worried that I was going to turn up to class rather sleepless, and so I consulted. We've come up with a plan where it's a full class and there will be me, teaching, but I get more coffee in the first hour and students who need come to me with questions concerning a little research project I've set them and much of the time they do their project. The second half of the session will be them interpreting that project and me teaching them how to turn meander into story, and I shall prepare myself a little guide before my exceptionally strange night and we'll all be fine. And so the simple solution to an impossible few days next week is to talk it through with the affected parties and find solutions. Which we have.
In other news, as part of my "I'm going to deal with this stress if it kills me" effort, I've seen the whole of "Lark Rise to Candleford" and read the essays that inspired it. I can't help thinking it would make solid material for a totally cool course, for the difference between the two demonstrates rather clearly the difference between the reality of a complex time and the simplification and stories that even the most sophisticated TV fiction usually requires. The extras on one of the DVDs also give a hint as to why so many of us think of storybook England, rather than the real thing. I read the book initially mainly to check up on the dialogue, for the series had some very jarring language (joshing and gendering, for instance) and the contrast between the dialogue chosen to express modern concerns (and a bit of history) and what Thompson actually uses in her writing is very curious.
I'm full of courses I'd like to teach in a universe where all things were possible. I'd love to teach a course where the main readings were from Morgan, Lukashenko, Heiss, Green, Faulkner and Kwaymullina. Six very different writers. I so know what I'd do with that course, too. Except there are better people to teach that one, locally. Sam Faulkner herself, for one. I'd be teaching it as an outsider to outsiders, which is a worry in terms of cultural ownership. If it were to be seven writers, I'd add Unaipon, even though he's male*. People expect fiction by Indigenous writers to be like his, after all, and none of my six are anything near. I love this diversity and would one day like to see what a crowd of undergrads makes of it. One day.
*This is my personal dig at what's happening in the SFWA right now. I adore Unaipon's volume and am still totally angry at its history.
I had a nice talk with my writing students today about next week. I was worried that I was going to turn up to class rather sleepless, and so I consulted. We've come up with a plan where it's a full class and there will be me, teaching, but I get more coffee in the first hour and students who need come to me with questions concerning a little research project I've set them and much of the time they do their project. The second half of the session will be them interpreting that project and me teaching them how to turn meander into story, and I shall prepare myself a little guide before my exceptionally strange night and we'll all be fine. And so the simple solution to an impossible few days next week is to talk it through with the affected parties and find solutions. Which we have.
In other news, as part of my "I'm going to deal with this stress if it kills me" effort, I've seen the whole of "Lark Rise to Candleford" and read the essays that inspired it. I can't help thinking it would make solid material for a totally cool course, for the difference between the two demonstrates rather clearly the difference between the reality of a complex time and the simplification and stories that even the most sophisticated TV fiction usually requires. The extras on one of the DVDs also give a hint as to why so many of us think of storybook England, rather than the real thing. I read the book initially mainly to check up on the dialogue, for the series had some very jarring language (joshing and gendering, for instance) and the contrast between the dialogue chosen to express modern concerns (and a bit of history) and what Thompson actually uses in her writing is very curious.
I'm full of courses I'd like to teach in a universe where all things were possible. I'd love to teach a course where the main readings were from Morgan, Lukashenko, Heiss, Green, Faulkner and Kwaymullina. Six very different writers. I so know what I'd do with that course, too. Except there are better people to teach that one, locally. Sam Faulkner herself, for one. I'd be teaching it as an outsider to outsiders, which is a worry in terms of cultural ownership. If it were to be seven writers, I'd add Unaipon, even though he's male*. People expect fiction by Indigenous writers to be like his, after all, and none of my six are anything near. I love this diversity and would one day like to see what a crowd of undergrads makes of it. One day.
*This is my personal dig at what's happening in the SFWA right now. I adore Unaipon's volume and am still totally angry at its history.
June 3, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-04T12:33:00
In my papers (for today's bit of the sorting) I found an exercise I gave some students last year. I challenged them to write a two sentence story based on (and written on) a small piece of white paper. They dared me to do it, too. This is what I wrote:
"The whiteness stared at me, accusingly. Its blankness and hate reminded me of all the letters I would never write."
That's my gift for you today. My gift to myself is probably to get rid of the thing.
ETA: For friends doing this for fun, you have two minutes (one minute for each sentence - I hope I told my students that this was very fair of me)
"The whiteness stared at me, accusingly. Its blankness and hate reminded me of all the letters I would never write."
That's my gift for you today. My gift to myself is probably to get rid of the thing.
ETA: For friends doing this for fun, you have two minutes (one minute for each sentence - I hope I told my students that this was very fair of me)
June 2, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-03T11:57:00
Another exciting day! The postcards have to wait until Wednesday afternoon, alas, for I can't actually get to that cupboard until I've got rid of the stuff in front of it and I can't get rid of the stuff in front of it until all the recycling and opp shop stuff has gone. That's the trouble with a flat - there is limited space for all kinds of things. Naomi has agreed to do a get-rid-of-things run (for she has a car and much upper body strength) and I'll be able to move on after that.
In the meantime, books are slow. I didn't get to the reviewing over the weekend because other things (far more time sensitive) pushed them out of the way. I'm going to try to do a batch of them today, for that will mean I can move...let's see...eleven books. Twelve if I read another in the queue. That's another thing that will entirely change the ambience of my work area.
I've got rid of a lot of paper this weekend. I've found some of the women's stuff papers that weren't with the rest: the rest are still to be sorted - they're in my storeroom and I can't get to my storeroom until at least next week, so I'm making a little collection of women's materials to be combined when that can happen. I want this bit done, for it will then all be taken off my hands and be used. I like it when papers are used! Also, I just found some photos of the Women's History Month launch at King O'Malley's in the year whichever-it-was. A lifetime ago. Less than a decade ago. Ready for real archives, rather than my storeroom.
Now I'm up to coffee break and using it to sort some CDs. The sooner all this is done, the easier my June/July will be. After coffee, I shall write some reviews. And after lunch it's back to work.
I'm saying all this to make sure it all happens, of course. It's much more tempting just to do the fun stuff.
In the meantime, books are slow. I didn't get to the reviewing over the weekend because other things (far more time sensitive) pushed them out of the way. I'm going to try to do a batch of them today, for that will mean I can move...let's see...eleven books. Twelve if I read another in the queue. That's another thing that will entirely change the ambience of my work area.
I've got rid of a lot of paper this weekend. I've found some of the women's stuff papers that weren't with the rest: the rest are still to be sorted - they're in my storeroom and I can't get to my storeroom until at least next week, so I'm making a little collection of women's materials to be combined when that can happen. I want this bit done, for it will then all be taken off my hands and be used. I like it when papers are used! Also, I just found some photos of the Women's History Month launch at King O'Malley's in the year whichever-it-was. A lifetime ago. Less than a decade ago. Ready for real archives, rather than my storeroom.
Now I'm up to coffee break and using it to sort some CDs. The sooner all this is done, the easier my June/July will be. After coffee, I shall write some reviews. And after lunch it's back to work.
I'm saying all this to make sure it all happens, of course. It's much more tempting just to do the fun stuff.
June 1, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-06-02T13:01:00
I've spent a half hour finishing what my thief started: I've been going through clothes and getting rid of some. By 'some' I mean I've halved the remaining clothes in storage. If I have to, I can get rid of the same again, but I really don't want to have to. Now somehow I must get these to the opp shop (too much to carry!) - that can wait until next week, maybe. I've run out of tidying time in any case. I only had while I was watching the single episode I had of Automan (which goes at the end of the day - it was not for keeping and is also part of my rationalisation of possessions), and I diverted via real work, by mistake (as one does).
My big question of the day is what I do with my postcard collection. I only want to keep a small part of it, and it's vast. Boxes and boxes. Like my coffee table, I'd rather sell it, but I do suspect people do not buy these things. It would entirely reduce the stuff I have in storage if I could dispose of it thoughtfully, though.
My big question of the day is what I do with my postcard collection. I only want to keep a small part of it, and it's vast. Boxes and boxes. Like my coffee table, I'd rather sell it, but I do suspect people do not buy these things. It would entirely reduce the stuff I have in storage if I could dispose of it thoughtfully, though.
gillpolack @ 2013-06-01T17:12:00
I have a huge stack of work and instead of doing it, I'm re-watching Firefly. I'm sorting stuff in the background, so the stuff continues, just more slowly and with more Firefly. My theory is that if I can finish more of the stuff, then everything else will be easy. Or at least less crowded.
Also, I've decided that I had better sell furniture rather than giving it away, given that the interesting state of my flat is going to bring me expenses in the near future. The first item I need to get rid of (ie I don't actually want or need it) is my coffee table. It's 60s (early 70s at the most recent) with a drawer and a black glass top. When it's gone, I will have space to bring out my dining table, which will completely improve my work/dining environment. So if anyone knows anyone who may want this nice piece of furniture (pick up only) I'd be very happy.
Also, I've decided that I had better sell furniture rather than giving it away, given that the interesting state of my flat is going to bring me expenses in the near future. The first item I need to get rid of (ie I don't actually want or need it) is my coffee table. It's 60s (early 70s at the most recent) with a drawer and a black glass top. When it's gone, I will have space to bring out my dining table, which will completely improve my work/dining environment. So if anyone knows anyone who may want this nice piece of furniture (pick up only) I'd be very happy.
May 31, 2013
Werelions!
Happy New Book Day to Singaporean author J Damask. To celebrate her werewolf novel, she's written us (well, me, but I'm sharing it, with permission) a story. Enjoy! If you want to find Wolf At the Door, it's here and here.
She strode on the warm sand, damp with sea water and indenting with her footprints. Above her the tropical sun shone on her bare back. In the sunlight, her hair shone tawny-gold and the hairs on her arms glowed.
Children’s laughter broke her reverie. Her nieces and nephew ran across the sand, clad in their swimsuits and nothing else. They were happily barefoot.
“Sit down before you turn into a baked kueh,” her grandmother yelled from her sheltered spot under the coconut trees.
Oh, the whole family was there. What was the word that described them? Pride? But that was an English word, from colonial masters long dead.
Do Asiatic lions have prides just like their African cousins?
“Drink,” her nenek passed her a glass of cold water. “Our human bodies are surprisingly fragile.”
Oh, she knew the difference. Asiatic lions had become rare, isolated. Existing in small groups, outnumbered by the harimau. The tigers were proud of their heritage and birth-right. The lions kept to themselves.
Soon, she would lead her family. Lioness.
It had a nice ring to her tongue.
She strode on the warm sand, damp with sea water and indenting with her footprints. Above her the tropical sun shone on her bare back. In the sunlight, her hair shone tawny-gold and the hairs on her arms glowed.
Children’s laughter broke her reverie. Her nieces and nephew ran across the sand, clad in their swimsuits and nothing else. They were happily barefoot.
“Sit down before you turn into a baked kueh,” her grandmother yelled from her sheltered spot under the coconut trees.
Oh, the whole family was there. What was the word that described them? Pride? But that was an English word, from colonial masters long dead.
Do Asiatic lions have prides just like their African cousins?
“Drink,” her nenek passed her a glass of cold water. “Our human bodies are surprisingly fragile.”
Oh, she knew the difference. Asiatic lions had become rare, isolated. Existing in small groups, outnumbered by the harimau. The tigers were proud of their heritage and birth-right. The lions kept to themselves.
Soon, she would lead her family. Lioness.
It had a nice ring to her tongue.
