I would have made it a bit more Ken Loach-ish, but maybe sometimes you don't need to hit people over the head. On the other hand, it does seem that you could easily read the film as a celebration of American stick-to-it-iveness, particularly as the lead character repeatedly turns down invitations to leave that lifestyle.
At the end of a day off. The wind has been ferocious all day (literally, not in the Major Bloodnok sense). Sounds like waves crashing around my flat. According to the Bureau of Meteorology, gusts of up to 72km an hour. A good day for sailing if you want to get somewhere in a hurry and aren't fussed about where.
Noticed yesterday the whopping great cardboard box on the doorstep of a downstairs neighbour, emblazoned with a photograph of a ferocious-looking stereo system. Ominous.
I've been playing dueling calendars with my estate agent's preferred fire alarm testing firm for months, as they endeavour to keep their local service representative available only while I'm not. Finally outfoxed them by having an atypical morning shift today. Dutifully shaved last night so I'd ready bright and early, allow for five hours work, a little quick printing of government forms at the library, then it's game over, fire alarm testers. See you next year.
Get a text message from work as I'm stepping out of the shower at 5:30am. Can I swap my morning shift for an afternoon? Gah! Immediately text the smoke alarm people, eager to maintain the advantage; can they reschedule to the morning? Afraid not, comes the reply, fully booked - we'll be in touch when our service representative is next in your area.
And the owner of the new stereo capable of non-lethal crowd control and bringing down birds in mid-flight turns out to be a huge country music fan.
Had a good day today. Lots of music in my head. Drank too much last night, and dealt with it by carrying on this morning. Sat in the park opposite #work, but unlike @Kat MCP(NT4) MCSE(Win2K) I completely failed to score. This park is defective! I batted my gorgeous eyelashes and everything!
A good, short, slightly tipsy shift at work laughing with/at my colleagues. Feeling positive for the first time in a long while.
The hat is a $20 paper fedora. I always wanted a roll-up fedora like Peter Davison had in Doctor Who, but it turns out they cost around $400. It would be cool to be able to roll up your hat and casually slip it in your jacket pocket, but in a climate where it's barely cool enough to wear a jacket for about a fortnight in late July, this isn't a killer feature.
The waistcoat I bought when I was twenty years old. Within a year I was too fat and horrible to fit in it, though I kept it for sentimental reasons. Now finally it's a bit roomy, if anything.
The ensemble is undermined by the fact that everything else is three sizes too large, but I'm determined to wear my fat clothes down to rags before refreshing my wardrobe. The shirt hangs down to my knees. I'd tuck it in, but my trousers are fastened just below my armpits.
I'm making comical sexy. How I don't get propositioned in the park is a complete mystery.
Just got myself a beauty while shaving. The sort of injury that leaves me with no option but to henceforth pursue a life of crime and become the nemesis of some superhero or other. On the plus side I'll get to wear a cape. Always fancied a cape.
Damn. Just had today's shift at #work cancelled. All up, this week I've done half the hours I needed to cover rent and groceries, and I've a monster electricity bill due. There has to be an easier way to make a pittance.
My electricity bills have been punishing ever since I moved into this flat. Today I finally did what every good consumer in a privatised and deregulated market should do, and went comparison shopping at the sarcastically-named energymadeeasy.gov.au.
Turns out that based on my kw/h consumption in my last bill, I could save as much as $20 a quarter by switching to a cheaper provider. After the $20 switching cost. Six months in, that's a cheap bottle of wine's worth of pure profit every three months!
F**k #Neoliberalism. Where's publicutilitiesmadeeasy.gov.au when I need it?
I think the actual problem is that the meter for my flat is in a room behind a locked door, behind the laundry, bearing a sign saying "This door must be kept locked at all times." (I think the "Beware of the leopard" sign must have come loose.) So all my bills have been guestimates bast on the last genuine reading which, based on the available evidence, would have been during the tenancy of somebody who was living here among steaming server racks, mining Bitcoin.
Looks like the view from Penrose walk from Helston to Looe Bar. Incidentally Jan Tregeagle was said to have created Looe Bar as one of his given tasks to provide protection from the the hell-hounds dragging him back down below.
Finished last night's movie binge by watching Casablanca all the way through, rather than in bits while flicking though the channels on a Sunday afternoon in the 1980s. Full to overflowing with witty badinage, but the plot is surprisingly insubstantial: "Fugitive couple briefly stop in Morocco en route to Portugal," about covers it.
Nobody fills out a trenchcoat like Bogart, but his range is a bit limited - arguably limited to not acting at all, just saying the lines while looking cool. When asked to stretch, what he produces is practically semaphore. As a shallow, dissolute youth I would have identified with Rick, but at my age, I am totally on Team Victor. Much more interesting and naturalistic performance.
Nowhere near as cinematic as I expected. As a film, Casablanca is a good night out at the theatre. It's funny and lovely to look at. Fine craftsmanship; no surprise so many subsequent films look and feel so like it.
Lots of glass-smashing again today at the #Aloha. Glaziers and handymen are at work on the unit which a couple of weeks ago my neighbour Breaking Bad trashed before doing a runner. That must be satisfying work; arriving at an almost completely ruined apartment and finishing the job, before restoring it again to working order, ready to be trashed again. Rather like setting up dominos to be toppled or building a wicker man. The impermanence of the result somehow makes doing a splendid job more satisfying.
The year-and-a-half long battle to get my address details changed with #Centrelink continues. An hour on the phone just now, about the same a fortnight ago, and also a week prior. Assured that the changes just need to be manually checked (by unnamed shadowy authorities), and everything will be done in a few hours. Heard that before.
How is it so hard to execute an SQL query? I'm not even claiming any benefits!
Is there a team of skilled artisans painstakingly chipping away at blocks of marble in ornate characters to record my once-new address? Are they at work in some enormous cloistered quadrangle while smartly-dressed call centre workers with headsets and tablets stroll past, saying things like "I'm just getting your details now, sir," and brushing aside tendrils of ivy to reveal delicately gilded data?
Paths winding between flower beds and decorative hedges of aromatic herbs lead this way and that, meeting at spectacular fountains tinkling with what callers assume is merely static on the line. Small reptiles bask in shafts of sunlight from the heavenly crystal dome above, lazily eyeing the butterflies which circle the hanging flowers about the rotunda where plays a roster of the most gifted string musicians of our time. On the chairs about the bandstand sit an audience of headsets placed there by workers before taking a break at the cafe or spa ("I'm just going to have to put you on hold for a moment, madam.")
On the green, young new hires recline on picnic blankets, rolling dice. "We are currently experiencing a higher than normal volume of calls due to the…" [Rolls dice, consults lookup table] "floods. If your call is not urgent…"
The Dole/UB40/Centrelink/Welfare machine was built in the 18th (or was it 17th) century and it's been working fine ever since. No one is going to rewrite the code for some moaning bloody end user. They tried doing that after the second world war and look where that got us, bloody NHS and votes for women!? There is hundreds of years behind that code! Are you mad?
The Easter AirBnB'ers have arrived at the #Aloha and the flats next door. The air is thick with the screaming of children; excited squeals and disconsolate wails. Not to mention loud public displays of dysfunctional parenting: "Right! That's it! No Easter Bunny for you!" "Waaah!"