More election commentary through photos...

I do not seem to be capable of anything more verbose than this...

Do you think Tony is trying to win the pink vote? And, more importantly, do you think we should tell him he has no chance?

Career Prospects for Rudd...

Kevin could be a builder...


A baker...
Or a doctor...

I would kind of prefer he was PM...

So easily turned...

For all my pretensions that I take politics and who I vote for seriously I am seriously considering voting for the Greens almost entirely on the basis of this: http://greensblog.org/2007/10/15/lol-pols-competition

Possibly an indication of my mental state (but more likely an indication of the quality of choice available for Australian voters)

BTW my favourite entries have to be

http://www.flickr.com/photos/15231890@N07/1595990436/in/pool-lolpol/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/79183328@N00/1576741095/in/pool-lolpol/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/monkeyjedi/1573687215/in/pool-lolpol/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/8297607@N05/1595018375/in/pool-lolpol/

Is it wrong that this is one of the things I miss most about being immersed in Australian politics is articles like this... there is something about the observation of human behaviour and interaction that political commentators and operators undertake which I really love... I do take issue to some extent with the immense focus on interpersonal rivalry over issues of policy but there is something about certain political commentator's ability to describe and reveal the complexities of human behaviour that makes me jealous and happy all at once. I know from experience it is a skill which is difficult to master. Plus I have always loved Annabel!

Turnbull struggles for a loyal word

Sydney Morning Herald
Annabel Crabb
September 13, 2007

BEING Malcolm Turnbull must be quite pleasant most of the time; the
pay is good, the accommodation first-class, and the views unparalleled. But for
four minutes yesterday, from 2.25pm until 2.29, being Malcolm Turnbull was
uncomfortable.

It began when Labor's Anthony Albanese asked Mr Turnbull about his
attendance at a meeting in the Foreign Minister's hotel room last week, at which
the Prime Minister's shortcomings reportedly underwent genteel discussion.

Now, it would be impolite to describe Mr Albanese as a muck-raker,
exactly, but you do hear the barely perceptible sound, when he rises to ask a
question, of latex gloves being snapped on.
And this was a curly one for the
Environment Minister, whose recent efforts to redesign the Liberal leadership
environment were crushed finally and expertly yesterday under the prime
ministerial boot.

Mr Turnbull rose to his feet and edged towards the dispatch box, then
paused halfway as he heard the Speaker, David Hawker, voice the opinion that the
question was very nearly out of order.

Off the hook.

Mr Turnbull beetled back towards his seat with relief, until an
explosion of laughter stopped him in his tracks.

He stopped, swivelled; a rich indecision overcame his handsome
features.

"I will answer it. I will take the question," he muttered as he
ploughed back to the dispatch box, to announce: "I attended that meeting. That
is the answer to your question."

On the way back to his seat, however, the Environment Minister realised
the import of what he had just said. To confirm attendance at the meeting,
without indicating a full retraction of sentiments expressed at it? Suicidal. To
return and add to the answer? Embarrassing.

Once again, Mr Turnbull wheeled about, then hovered in agony. Frozen
between inclination and humiliation, his body language looked very much like
that of a man trying to buy a pornographic magazine in a busy service station.

Finally, he noticed the Prime Minister's lowered brow, and the slight
incline of the prime ministerial head that indicated, in the politest possible
way: "Get back here and clear that up, would you?"

Eventually Mr Turnbull rushed the counter and babbled out his
repentance: "I attended that meeting. The Prime Minister has the support of
everybody at that meeting. The discussions at the meeting are not part of my
portfolio responsibilities, but I have answered the question. The Prime Minister
has the support, as Prime Minister, of everybody in the cabinet. That is the
answer."

Yesterday was that sort of day.

Much stout talk of loyalty, and support for the Prime Minister, and
"going forward as a team", and "winning the election seat by seat" (is there any
other way?) and a magnanimous guarantee from the PM there would be no
recriminations against anybody. Apart from losing their seats, one or two
sourpusses observed.

Wilson Tuckey, the bow-legged warrior from the west, came the
closest to public insurrection; asked on his way into the party meeting whether
the Prime Minister enjoyed his support, Mr Tuckey answered, magnificently: "That
is a matter of the circumstances of the moment."
Once inside, he apparently
held forth at length on the topic of wheat, which tells you just about all you
need to know about the state of the anti-Howard camp yesterday.

Back to the world of the living...

Thesis is done...
assignments are finished....
library books are returned....
notes are filed...
marks are in...
I do believe that I have finished my degree (with First Class Honours!)

As such this blog may recieve some attention once more...

Word Weirdery

For some reason word keeps auto-correcting 'anal' to 'annal' as I am writing.

In my computer illiterate way I have tried to fix it through the auto-correct feature with no success.

I wonder what 'annal sex' would involve or feel like. It is possibly something I would enjoy.

I think it is time for bed.

How have I not read more Kate Bornstein?

“I love the idea of being without an identity, it gives me a lot of room to play around; but it makes me dizzy, having nowhere to hang my hat. When I get too tired of not having an identity, I take one on: it doesn't really matter what identity I take on, as long as it's recognizable. I can be a writer, a lover, a confidante, a femme, a top, or a woman. I retreat into definition as a way of demarcating my space, a way of saying "Step back, I'm getting crowded here." By saying I am the (fill in the blank)," I also say, "You are not, and so you are not in my space." Thus, I achieve privacy. Gender identity is a form of self-definition: something into which we can withdraw, from which we can glean a degree of privacy from time to time, and with which we can, to a limited degree, manipulate desire.”
~ Bornstein, Kate (1994) Gender Outlaw: On men, women and the rest of us, New York and London:Routledge, p 39-40.

I am completely in love.

And today I am a nerd kitty. Hoping to manipulate my own desire to produce pages and pages of finely tuned, well argued prose which makes theory sing and people pee their pants with joy. It isn't quite working.

Life, death and politics...

A friend from a previous life lived died on the weekend.

Honestly I can not remember the last time that Aveline entered my thoughts, but I suspect it was more than three years ago when I still lived in Canberra and would randomly run into her in the smallness of Canberran circles. But she entered my dreams on Friday night for reasons I can not fathom. I can not remember the dream but I woke up with a smile on my face, content with the thought that it was once again likely that our paths would randomly cross.

Then on Monday I came across the news that following a brain aneurism on her birthday she had passed away on Sunday. Shocked by the strange serendipity of my dreams the news has really thrown me.

I did not know Aveline well. But what I knew I loved. I remember walking into the queer brunch in my first week of uni and meeting her. I was simultaneously awestruck, intrigued and scared out of my skin by her. She was the bravest, craziest, queerest, intelligent and most political individual this small town kid had ever met. And I was continually shocked that she would want to talk to me.

We were both working at parliament house at the same time and she was this welcome burst of colour, life and passion in that building – it still upsets me that she was the absolute exception to every rule in that place. Her physical presence alone was a shock in the sea of suited conservatism, but her life, her politics and her passion were also great exceptions to the blandness of so much about the political establishment. She is one of the only people I have ever met who perfectly understood both my absolute love of parliament, parliamentary procedure and the potential role of legislative governance and my passionate desire to see a more anarchic and radically diverse culture infiltrate the system. She also so wonderfully lived her politics in all areas of her life. Political culture in this country needs more people like Aveline to shake things up, and sadly it has taken her death to remind me of my desire to passionately live my cultural politics and also to subvert and challenge the culture of the system while working within it.

Aveline seemed to irrevocably and deeply touch so many people and I am reminded of how incredibly lucky I am to have known her and so many other fabulous people who dare to live their lives passionately and radically.