Binnsy's Hovel

As of around twenty minutes ago, the first draft of my paper on blogging is done.

I also managed to whack references on the quotes and concepts, polish off my list of citations and give the whole thing a nice title.

The only issue is that I’m 1,485 words over the set limit. Thus begins the mammoth process of editing, or butchering, my own work. Sigh.

The ‘uncut’ paper will remain, as will the final proof. If you’re interested in reading a copy, email me.

Until next time…

Whilst composing my paper on blogging I’ve inadvertently come up with a new theory…

According to Geert Lovink, the blog is still novel, although it has lost its initial attraction. Blogs are increasingly being used to chronicle personal lives, and less and less for intelligent debate and discussion. Lovink suggests that the blog is the one medium that allows for an appreciation, a pride, in itself by its advocates.

Lovink also writes that the blog is slowly eroding the deep-rooted institution of the mass media. Many bloggers criticise the mainstream media, some have made it their sole intent and purpose, though some would argue it is futile. Lovink states:

‘Blogs bring on decay. Each new blog adds to the fall of the media system that once dominated the twentieth century. The printed and broadcasted message has lost its aura. Instead of presenting blog entries as mere self-promotion, we should interpret them as decadent artefacts that remotely dismantle the broadcast model.’

To what extent can the blog erode the mainstream media? Herein lies what I will refer to as the ‘blog paradox’.

The blogger’s aim, from a communicative, nihilist and democratic perspective, is to erode the mass media, using targeted blog posts from a remote source – their blog. The intent of the blog is to make a difference and exert influence by voicing an opinion. What happens, then, when the objective is fulfilled?

The mass media is destroyed, and the platform from which much blogging is launched is gone. Blogs come to rely solely on the personal rambling of teenagers, bored professionals and homemakers, and their communicative foundation and motivation is lost.

What must be undertaken is a re-evaluation of the goals of the blog. Rather than focus on the erosion of the mainstream media, the blogger might choose merely to comment upon and constructively criticise the news they read. Using the blog as a soapbox is the preferred methodology. The frightening outcome of the blog paradox must be averted, no matter what the cost.

Until next time…

So there I was, sitting at my desk, books scattered around, drinking a nice glass of Eaglehawk 2004 Shiraz Merlot Cabernet… then she walked in…

Okay, so perhaps not quite the cheesy, voiced-over, hardboiled detective story I was hoping for… but I did have a glass of that wine lastnight, and I’m going to do my best to give you a somewhat down-to-earth and realistic recollection of what it was like.

It was very fruity and spicy, as a good red should be, and it went down very very nicely. Quite smooth, in fact. The problem was it had a rear end on it like a Mack truck spinning wildly out of control on a four-lane highway. I had two glasses. By the end of the first glass I was loosened up and very relaxed, and I poured myself another, because it was quite nice. No sooner had I taken a sip of the second glass, when the aftershock of the first encircled my head and strangled all alcohol-induced creativity and motivation from it.

Now, being quite aware of the effects the wine was having on me, I mentally chronicled some of the thoughts and behavioural changes I underwent. All of a sudden I felt very free, and there was no tension, physical or otherwise. It’s amazing how when even slightly inebriated, the mind becomes very focused on the beverage itself. It’s almost as if alcohol deifies ‘the drink’ as the one thing the mind centralises and focuses itself around and on. You become very careful and precise when picking up the drink, pouring the drink… keep in mind I was nowhere near drunk lastnight, but the initial effects of the alcohol were very noticeable to me, and for once I was able to approach them with somewhat of an analytical mind.

The other thing was that once I went to bed, no matter what position I lay in, it was all extremely comfortable. I think at one point my arms and legs were almost bent back around themselves and I was still surrounded by a slightly woozy feeling of euphoria and contentment. I am by no means advocating alcohol in any way – I’ve seen what it can do… consider these merely intrigued ramblings on its initial effects.

Over the past two and a half months I’ve been driving to university, taking the easy way time-wise and avoiding having to deal with unfavourable people on trains and at stations. But today I decided I’d go back to catching the train, just for one day, to see how it went. I was struck at several times through the experience with a feeling of being amongst the masses, amongst the working class, amongst Orwell’s workers; free of the elitism and heavy-handedness of the road. But I was also overwhelmed – again – by the personalities, predominantly unsavoury, that crowd the carriages and platforms of the Sydney rail network. Bring on the elitism of drivership again…

For some reason I had ‘democracy’ written down as something to blog about, but I have absolutely no idea what I had in mind when I pencilled that in… never mind. Maybe it’ll come to me through the night.

The other thing I was going to post up here is a random part of my blogging paper, but I might do that in a separate post.

Until next time…

As I said in a comment on an earlier post, my mate Richard would be stoked at the little flurry of activity he’s created in the blogosphere regarding his response to Bolt’s ‘Movie madness’ article. There have been crossposts at Boltwatch and its narky little terrier Boltwatch-Watch.

In the latter post, Iain Hall accuses MrLefty and any ensuing respondent with taking Richard’s comment out of context. I will do my utmost to ensure I do not fall into the uber-critical trap that others may have done in this post, however because a very close friend of mine is involved, I feel obligated.

In response to Hall’s comment, Bolt himself accused Richard of not knowing his history. Richard said of Good Night, and Good Luck, ‘That film was not an attack on communism itself, but rather an attack on Senator Joseph McCarthy who harassed and falsely accused citizens of having communist sympathies.’ This comment was dismissed by Bolt, who claimed, ‘Such films are accepted as true by people like you who clearly do not know their history.’

Did Andrew Bolt just ignore proven history?

Richard’s point was that people ignore the historical basis of these films in order to criticise the films for their creative embellishments. The public watch these films to be entertained, and the purpose of the films themselves is to provoke thought, consideration and perhaps further reading or research. Historical films are not documentaries. They are entertaining, dramatised takes on historical events.

For once I’ll agree with part of Hall’s commentary and say please, for God’s sake, take these comments in context. Bolt’s original post was about movies, as was Richard’s response, despite Bolt’s retort being ambiguous.

Until next time…

This is one of those posts where I don’t have a goal to begin with, but rather I’ll ramble and see where I end up.

The first thing I’d like to do is introduce my new blodger, coffeestoned. This guy loves his coffee, almost as much as he loves his computer, almost as much as he loves his whiskey. He also blogs about soccer, iPods and cellphones, and about how much he loathes his blogging software. Makes for an awesome read. Go make him earn his rent.

Did anyone catch Part 1 of the Answered by Fire miniseries that aired on the ABC tonight? Very shrewd programming by the ABC, given the continuing violence over in East Timor in the past week or so. But I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of this miniseries. Australian film production has taken a pretty decent step forward over the last five years or so, and people like Jessica Hobbs are riding that wave.

In the random world of semi-rational debate, my good mate Richard, whose piece you may have caught a week or two back, stuck it to renowned, celebrated and beloved Herald Sun columnist Andrew Bolt in response to his article, Movie madness. Check out the article; this is Richard’s retort, and Bolt’s deft parry:

From: Richard Plumridge

Comment: Andrew Bolt turned movie reviewer, well I never thought I’d see the day. Muslims have been portrayed as ‘bad guys’ plenty. Look at the past seasons of 24 and extremist Muslims have been the ‘baddies’.

Have you even seen ‘Good Night, And Good Luck’? That film was not an attack on communism itself, but rather an attack on Senator Joseph McCarthy who harassed and falsely accused citizens of having communist sympathies. The Sum of All Fears was a different story as, according to the filmmakers, the original novel’s politics and back-story was far too complex to condense into a feature film, so the writers took the easy road and just made the baddies ‘Neo-Nazis’ to make it easier for common-denominator audience to swallow.

Often, Andrew, there are multiple reasons as to why decisions are made in filmmaking. Perhaps you should stick to opinion writing and filmmakers will stick to filmmaking.

Andrew replies: “Senator Joseph McCarthy who harassed and falsely accused citizens of having communist sympathies” This is the problem. Such films are accepted as true by people like you who clearly do not know their history. As for “neo-Nazis” being “easier to swallow” as villains that Islamist terrorists – you really don’t know your present either.

More super-conservative right-wing bullshit from Old Rice and Monkey Nuts.

Lastnight I had the pleasant experience of viewing Wes Anderson’s film The Royal Tenenbaums. As regular visitors may remember I’m a huge fan of The Life Aquatic, so I was understandably eager to watch another of Anderson’s films. It’s distinctly Wes’s, with the classic cutaways, single use of font and delayed but hilarious editing.

Anderson’s films are not for everyone. But if they’re for you, they’re absolutely wonderful and very, very funny. His work is also quite Romantic (Romantic with a capital ‘R’, you’ll notice), so I guess that’s probably another reason why I’m attracted to it. Maybe he’s the William Blake of the film world.

Well, I’d best be off… I have to head in to uni early tomorrow to see how much of this blog paper I can knock over before 4pm. Adios burritos!

Until next time…

I didn’t realise it’d been quite so long since I posted. I’ve gotten caught up in organising quite a few things this week, and haven’t really had much of a chance to sit down in front of a computer for half an hour, except to compose presentations or work on papers.

But I have much to report and discuss, especially about events in the past few days!

On Thursday night, some friends and I went in to ABC Studios at Ultimo to see the filming of The Chaser’s War on Everything, and had an absolute cracker of a time. There’s something about being in the room when something’s being shot. Especially when you’re bribed by the Chaser boys with Minties and Fantales to stand up and make absolute fools of yourselves on national television waving your arms and your money around for a Hillsong number. The number was run through about three times before shooting began, and we were able to see some of the stuff that didn’t quite make it past the ABC’s legal department, including a shrewd call to the Alan Jones breakfast show on 2GB.

After the show I bolted down and was able to grab some snaps with Craig Reucassel and Chris Taylor… forgive the grain of the shots – Motorola aren’t known for their megapixels…

Then yesterday I went in to the city with the intention of seeing a few speakers and presentations at the Sydney Writer’s Festival. Due to extenuating circumstances I was only able to make one event, and I was able to hear Bill Leak and Ross McMullin discuss the role of the cartoonist through history. Bill Leak is the cartoonist for Sydney’s Daily Telegraph, and McMullin has just released his biography of renowned Australian satirist, journalist, cartoonist Will Dyson.

It was a fascinating talk, with lots of laughs and anecdotes, but there was something there that made it even more special for me. I’m what you might call a reluctant patriot. I don’t like so many things that this country has done and is doing, and I’m not that big a fan of those currently in power (though they’re the best hope we’ve got at this point), but I do love my country, this land of sweeping plains. I love its history, its characters, its people, its environment.

Bill Leak represents a great part of the Australian character – the part that gets a kick out of taking the piss. And who better to take the piss out of than those that run the country. Leak is a very artsy, very intelligent, very Australian kind of guy, and it was great seeing him speak about his work and his life.

Ross McMullin spoke of Will Dyson’s role as a cartoonist during the Depression and the war years. It was fascinating seeing some of Dyson’s work and hearing McMullin speak of the man’s Aussie spirit and character. I can’t wait to read McMullin’s book.

All great stuff… more photos coming soon!

Until next time…

There’s something that fascinates me about the Arts ideal. 1920’s Paris, the Bohemian era, the 18th century English coffee houses. A world where politics, the arts, culture, sexuality, literature was all open slather, but in the best and most constructive possible way.

The likes of Hemingway and Monet sitting about the cafes drinking wine and coffee and philosophising about the world. Oh, to have lived then.

I watched a documentary about Paris a month or two ago in the Sin Cities series. I was fascinated not only by the sexual freedom of the era and the city, but also the opportunities for females. Women ran salons, some of which were more successful and popular than the mens’ discussion places.

For my paper on blogging I’ve been researching Jurgen Habermas’s theories about the public sphere, and it’s been interesting to compare the blog to Habermas’s ideas. Habermas came up with what he refers to as an ‘ideal speech situation’, in which all exchanges are pure, sincere, truthful and highly subjective (in that each person’s perspective on an issue is put forward to be commented on).

The blog has its pitfalls, of course, but for the most part the blog fits this ideal. Everyone has the opportunity to start their own blog if they wish, and put forward their ideas, no matter how radical, conservative, extreme they may be. Likewise, anyone can comment on a post made by somebody else. Everyone has the right to put forward their opinion and to invite and accept criticism.

Over the course of the past week or so, I’ve been exchanging emails with an academic who is a critic of the blog insofar as they don’t see the phenomenon living up to the hype it’s created. Pending their permission I’ll post the substance of our exchange here at the Hovel in the coming days, however it has been fascinating debating and arguing with someone with experience in communication and cultural studies. And our exchange is an example of the connection potential of the Internet itself – a first year university student from Western Sydney in Australia, debating and rebutting arguments of a professor from halfway around the world!

I’ve also been examining the demise of the ‘homepage’ in favour of the blog. Remember those old websites you used to see with a family photos page, a set of links, maybe a biography or resume? The ones that wouldn’t be updated for months and months, maybe even years? Have you also noticed the rise of blogging – a dynamic and ever-changing world unto itself – in its place?

My journey into the world of blogging has been very interesting – and I’ve still got a week and a half of it to go. If you’d like to help or pose some questions or discuss any of the stuff above, comment your life away.

Until next time…

That’s right, folks.

The film, at best, can be called an ‘interpretation’ of Dan Brown’s novel. To call it an ‘adaptation’ would not only insult Dan Brown, but give credibility to Ron Howard and his pitiful and pathetic attempt to bring Brown’s book to life.

Credit where credit’s due – Tom Hanks was brilliant. And Ian McKellan never fails to upstage any ensemble he works with.

But the film was slow, tedious and changed at least half of the details of the book. It’s been a while since I read it, the first time being July 2004, the latest being early 2005, but there were several changes in the plotline – changes which couldn’t afford to be made, and basically ruined the whole film. The clue that opened the original cryptex, ‘SOFIA’, was never mentioned, for one thing, and in the end of the film, Sophie’s brother is never revealed or shown or introduced. The group of people that show up when Sophie and Langdon emerge from the library underneath Rosslyn Chapel never appear in the book – indeed, there is no library underneath Rosslyn at all in the book. And the whole Langdon realisation sequence at the end of the film (he cuts his chin shaving and the line of blood running down the basin tells him everything, apparently) was absurd – the book’s ending is much more plausible.

On the whole, ridiculous. If he has any money left from the Baigent Leigh case, Dan Brown should, in the name of God and all things, myths, conspiracies, corruption and wonderment thereof, sue.

For a compositional look at why this film sucked, check out my latest journal entry at The Aperture Chronicles.

Until next time…

My name’s Guy and I write over at Polemica, the blog formerly known as wsacaucus.org. Binnsy, the proprietor of this quirky blog, has invited me to post some thoughts here, and I have gratefully elected to accept his invitation.

As this blog is by definition a hovel, it seems quite apt to talk about hovels. Or homes. Specifically, homes in Australia. Although you yourself may not be aware of it, there are many thousands of people across Australia living in what we would probably term hovels, or worse, living on the streets. This is particularly a problem in Sydney, where housing is generally less affordable than anywhere else in Australia. And as the Australian Council of Social Service (ACOSS) observe [PDF], the difficulty in finding affordable housing in modern Australia is one of the most crucial causes of poverty:

People on low incomes rarely own homes and rent is often unaffordable in Australia’s major cities.

Housing impacts on a person’s ability to find work, education and training – regions and cities with jobs often have high housing prices and rental rates. Poor housing can also negatively affect a person’s health and wellbeling.

The affordability of housing in Australia represents a significant structural issue that both the Federal and State Governments need to do more to address. Welfare hand-outs can be a useful interim measure, but long-term solutions to poverty and policy salves for structural inequality are required here. The only people who gain from ever-increasing housing prices in our capital cities are property investors and speculators, typically the sorts of people who have been lucky enough not to experience modern poverty first-hand. Renting may be an effective short-term alternative for many families, but nothing can compare with the long-term financial stability that comes with owning your own home.

So here is a challenge for governments of the 21st century in Australia: to ensure that no family and no person is not provided with the opportunity to own their own home, and to live their life without the inherent volatility implied by long-term renting. Australia is a land of abundant open and unpopulated spaces and expanding economic activity. There is absolutely no reason, in this modern day and age, that people living in an affluent society like ours should be unable to own a home.

There is no long-term moral sense in having a minority group of property investors reaping the financial rewards of leasing their properties to the growing number of people who can’t afford their own homes, particularly given that those same people are paying rent with the money they could be saving towards their future.

Australia might well have been getting richer during recent years, but just who has been getting richer? The people who are rich enough to own one or more investment properties, or the people who actually need to get richer to make Australia the broadly fair and equitable society that most of us want it to be?

Prelude, from the Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1, No 1, a piece by one Johann Sebastian Bach, is a piece of music that is presently driving this blogger completely and utterly insane. Electing to learn this piece in my undertaking of the fourth grade of the piano course entitled “Piano for Leisure”, I was under the impression that the works of Bach – he being a master of the beauty and eloquence so rightly exploited by the composers of the late 17th and early 18th centuries – would be an absolute joy to learn.

Imagine my outrage and disgust when, upon my repeated practisings of the aforementioned work, the veins in my neck protrude in an outward fashion, my wild heart begins to flutter untowardly in its cage, and I have an uncontrollable desire to inflagrate every Bach piece ever written.

A shock, and a pity, to be sure.

Prelude is typical of Bach in its consistent phrasing with subtle shifts in tonality, and upon listening one may imagine a thread being woven through a fabric – or the war-minded may consider the gentle changes in direction associated with a guided intercontinental ballistic missile in flight. It is, quite honestly, a beautiful piece.

But the need to read ahead, particularly in huge left-hand changes such as in bars 9-10, 20-21, and 31-32, distracts the pianist from the right-hand’s delicate counter-melody, and the performance deteriorates into an auditory shambles of catastrophic proportions. In what other piece than Bach would the finale – the dying three bars of the composition – be easier to enunciate than the remaining 32 bars of music?

Also of annoyance to this blogger is bar 23 in its entirety. Note that the entire piece is comprised of the same phrase timing-wise, but with subtle shifts in pitch and notes. In bar 23, a low A-flat is followed by a higher F, which makes sense, but the answering right hand phrase is B-C-D, B-C-D… Bach has here taken subtlety to another level, beyond the gentle but justifiable nuance of the rest of the piece.

Yet I, supposedly, have to master this piece, and commit it to memory, by the end of next week. Tra-la-la.

And that, my dear readers, is why Bach shits me up the wall sideways.

Until next time…