Election day in Victoria. Hope the candidates have been put through their paces, done the hard yards and are ready for the verdict. And then of course there's the aftermath
(Images from a fabulous catalogue of burlesque stunts and paraphenalia for freemasons. via boing boing)

whoops we forgot it was buy nothing day. (via mcb) Does buying a couple of books and a jacket from the op shop count? I hope being ( a constant) part of the "recycling" loop is jamming enough? Anyway- it's dollar day. Nothing can keep Boynton away...
More retro delight. Hostesses at Expo 67(via Portage)

2 links for 2 friends
Nora this one's got your name written on it (via Lindsay Marshall)


A friend whose name shall be Max
Likes his facts
I hope whenever he’s next logged on
He’ll see I’ve thrown in a bit about Ogden
(We were recently talking round the time-line of that popular poet
Only we didn’t know it)

When worlds collide... Boynton was anonymously enjoying a quaff and another game of trivia when she noticed an adjacent table-full of writerly theatrebods (who won by one!) Methinks it was the fizz and not the old dramaturg talking when she proclaimed:"blogs are the future"... but anyway guys, here's the chess article that I mentioned. (via aldaily)

Some time ago Boynton spent hours (in surftime) trying to track down an image of a retro supermarket, with a rocket, of the kind she grew up with in outer suburban Melbourne. Now she's not only got the whole site devoted to supermarket history (via Pop Culture Junk mail), but belatedly discovered the terminology for the architecture and ethos. Until today we thought Googie was an actress with an Australian husband. Now we see it's the post-war style that Boynton has always had a thing for. When she was a child it was the old Sunseeker motel sign on Phillip Island that seemed to be the epitome of exotic holiday. She heard BarryHumphries on 774 on Tuesday saying that to remember landmarks past is not to mourn, but simply (and importantly) to "note". Applied nostalgia. Boynton wishes she lived in LA so she could visit this B&B, drink cocktails, listen to Sergio and play Stockmarket! Memo to colleagues: see my old business idea for a "retro caravan park" was not so dumb afterall! Boynton used to share this dream over dinner with actors who talked up worm-farms, and was always greeted with a glazed, bemused silence.

Boynton was walking with her four year old nephew around the Botanic gardens this morning. Last time he wanted every sign read out in full, with the Latin, and no fobbed off paraphrasing. This time he wanted to monitor the vistor map, and our relative place on it. This was easier to fake. The signs told us we were heading for the Separation Tree. Try explaining that colonial concept to a 4 year old. "It's a special tree" Boynton suggested limply, as we reached the sign. "It says congratulations!" he announced. As she laughed, Boynton wondered how many couples have been married in the vicinity of this old gum.

No actually not an ex of Boynton's, just the Xmas bloke. (Ho ho ho. via Plep) A nice blast of christmas past and it's not even December yet. Boynton noticed the bon-bons blossoming in Safeway around Cup Day! While that's of course customary, the Salvos had their tree up in the local op shop a day or so earlier. You kind of think they'd know their dates. We sang Silent night very quietly last Tuesday at niece's school, the teacher apologising for premature carolling. The stretching of the consumer fest seems to create an un-season. Here's a sort of virtual Chris Chringle going (bah humbug) In this spirit, Boynton has already chosen suitable gifts for her personal wish-list cart.

On blogs. (a fully-closed media ecosystem. An "engine of addiction". John Hiler) Good report on recent Yale conference on blogging. More threads at Public Opinion.. And Deckchairs on The Titanic points to an article on finding blogs.

Update: How's this for nice little Hardy twist. Bomb out of pub "puzzle 'n guzzle" and miss the last five minutes of 24...tape ran out...we're staying tuned...marooned...

Tough call. Whether to stay in and watch final 24 in real time, or contest pub trivia in beer time? If the latter prevails, Boynton's team should be studying the periodic table. A whole cafeteria/nest/antique showroom (of tables) is on offer here. (via The Presurfer) Among Boynton's faves - poetry and haiku versions

Yesterday whilst searching for Thomas Hardy stumbled upon this site. Que? Why does the animated gif of a campfire seem not quite conducive to some casual literary chat? Would a Wessex style background with some rustic furnishings help? Boynton was going to compose an appropriate Hardyesque post, all unhappy fate and undelivered messages, when she happened upon a genuine posting of this type.

Douglas didn't want to get up today. Just couldn't see the point. Didn't remember breakfast until he could see it. We've both got to work on our respective mind-sets. He's got to do more word games and puzzles, and Boynton's got to attend to her fatalism. Came across an article on Hardy's brand of fate by chance. The journal is Brick edited by Michael Ondaatje and Linda Spalding. Also here was a good article on digital poetry. Boynton had been reading one of her favourite Ondaatje poems last night, found it was on the web (but one should of course buy the book. )

"Mollee! This afternoon is ze big Pedalo Race for visitors, so this morning you must 'ave lots of practice!" Boynton has spent a languorous afternoon with the cricket on revisiting such literary Girls Crystal gems, as Molly's Thrilling Pedalo Race "As Told to Doris Graham " - (or is that really G Cecil Gravely?)
Boynton was drawn to the story by an illustration of Molly in deep shock, facing a man in a beret:
"I regret, ma'amoiselle, but your name is not on my list," the steward told me. Something had happened to my entry form for the vital Pedalo Race!" Anyone who knows her will testify that this is Boynton's own life experience. Something is always happening to my entry form as well. Oh well, off now in search of more languorous surroundings to dream of a perfect evening and study Chapter 3: "My plan to Bowl out the trickster" .

This is a bit like the benign cat chasing the mouse, but creepier (via b3ta)

it's beginning to feel a lot like cricket. Is it that the contest has suddenly kicked in, or that Adelaide looks so good, or that in this perfect Melbourne weather the sound of muted commentary trickling though the house no longer feels premature? Watching the doco on the Chappell era the other night, there was that blast from the past of old pre-packer broadcasting. It wasn't just nostalgia that had Boynton jumping up and down and cheering as Lillee came into bowl. It was the sense that we were merely spectating, that the game itself was bigger than the presence of TV cameras. That it was secondary to being there, and you could see it in the intensity of people at the ground. Even the old "missing" every second over routine was ok by Boynton - it didn't corrupt the game's essential rhythm - the literal ebb and flow of different ends (and on the old ABC - the interval of overs). Of course the old B&W coloured lense of nostalgia may have been at work, as Boynton caught certain Proustian triggers of lounge-rooms past; in the silhouette of Ian Redpath, the toweling hatted kids waiting to run onto the ground, even the unmediated calling of Norman May.

footnote.The little dog must weigh a fair ton?

At first I thought I was back in the 50's water, but soon realised things were much, much darker. (via Prandial Post)

Rivals of the Schoolgirl Annual Collection

Gosh Hetty! Boynton's collapsed!
It's alright Nora. She's just recovering from discovering this page

Still getting over it. Boynton's Own collection is quite impressive, but nothing will match the memory of growing up with an aunt's 1959 edition as a child, nor her first (op-shop) addition (1958) . These covers promise it all: picnics, paddle-boats, and tea-rooms, and Boynton is always hoping that life will one day match those colours.

(nb 1955 is what you hope for, paddle-boat and waving man. 1954 is what you get: 2 dogs, the larger one becoming boss of the see-saw.)

Pet the kitty and make it purr says the link on Pop Culture Junk Mail. Purring - is it?... Bronte (Jack russell) believes it - she jumped out of basket underneath table to investigate.

Spiders and tangled webs. Boynton's post re mcb and huntsmen started a thing about blog v email. Did we err - or where's the line - is there one? It seems fairly common out there within clustering communities to use the private space of a blog as a usenet style notice-board, and one of the "reasons to blog" for Boynton was certainly to streamline the emailing links to friends deal. This issue sent Boynton off googling. Among the general articles on blog-soup, Meg Hourihan What we're doing when we blog observes:
Emails are often rapidly incorporated back into the site's content, creating a nearly real-time communication channel between the blog's primary author (its creator) and its secondary authors (the readers who email and comment)...
Moments of shared experience can be powerful connectors. They happen in the offline world when two strangers on the subway chuckle at the same funny billboard, and make eye contact as they do so. In the online world, they happen when I'm thinking about buying an iBook and I read on your blog that you've just bought one, at the same time.

Sometimes reading blogs on blogs turns up too many of the jaded, sneery, content-police - or the pithy historical put-down, that can dent the confidence somewhat. To post a poor analogy, sometimes it's like climbing a tree- best not to look down. Maybe I'd glimpse my readership
Anyway, Boynton prefers the positive spin Meg puts on this sense of shared experience and connection.

A bit of precipitation about. Boynton was a special person at her niece's school today. She was taken on a tour by four mad nine year olds. "It's spitting" she told them as the other guests, all grandparents, inspected the premises beneath navy umbrellas. She was a generation short. But quickly lapsed into nine year old mode, with the restless toed, high-spirited fidgetty girl-gang speak, broken up with the odd outburst of skipping.

Found a digital poetry blog last night. Followed a link and found this wonderful project, an interview with American perfomance poet Kim Rosenfield. Both form and content are inspiring. Boynton relates to the "choreography of language" approach to text, and this makes her want to jump straight back into it.

Memo to team-mates. Had we only studied this, we might have won this. (via Lindsay Marshall)