Right. So I love Love LOVE my city. So infinitely awesome is she, a definitive list would be a tautology for a start, and kinda dumb. But off the top of my head here are a few fings what I do love: the changeable weather; the relatively high percentage of curious and resourceful people; the CBD itself - architecture, design, vicinity, smell (stinky, gross river included), the casually busy mood; the landscape that can run between sea and mountain, rainforest, wetland and desert; plus, we have some of the world's rarest wildlife in our metropolitan region!
(and this clip is of one of the most incredible birds ever... and it lives in melbs... just a bonus to enjoy cos it's awesome... nothing to do with my rant...)
So there's a kazillionty things to adore about Melbourne... And my adoration is official.
This bond became apparent and palpable during the S11 protests of ye olde thymes. Sure, my city did certainly rule in terms of how huge the protest turn-out was relative to the population, but here's the thing: There was a nastiness in the governments response (federal and state) that was almost unprecedented; possibly the international context of the protests and how full-on shit got in some places overseas (Seattle, anyone?) led to this show of 'strength'...*shrug*... Dunno. Whatever the case, loopholes were found in laws, and procedures were simply contravened allowing police to use force that was later proven to be excessive, dangerous and potentially lethal, all while acting as part of a nameless mob after the ordered removal of their name tags. And on the flip-side of this very full-on physical show of force was an underhanded, ugly, political spin branding the protestors 'un-Australian'. Yes, for both enacting and enjoying our right to a peaceful (noisy, disruptive and colourful) protest, we were behaving in an 'un-Australian' manner. This is (and always was) ridiculous to the point of laughter when you contemplate what protests have achieved in this country... Look it up. I'm not listing.
And really, fucked if it bothered me, but holy hell the 'Patriot' card almost works as well here as in the States. And when I saw that, I was quite happy to BE 'un-Australian'. I find Patriotism blinding and weird and not my thing. What IS my thing is a blind, weird attachment to my wonderful city, and defending the gorgeous trollop as she needs. Thus, I changed my nationality to Melburnian.
If I have failed to emphasise my initial remark, let me say it again... I LOVE MELBOURNE... She is more meaningful to me than my actual 'country'. I do NOT bag her lightly.
*cowers briefly and moves on...*
Now, to the actual, very real, proddy-point of this spiel: One thing I fucking hate about living in Melbourne (with a passion) are the water restrictions. I think right now we are on Stage 3, which would mean all sorts of stuff for my garden if I had one worth watering. It also means that we are asked very nicely by our State Government to shower for three minutes, once a day. Yes, I do live in a 'developed nation'.
Here's my revelation: Water Restrictions Are Killing My Creativity...
You know, I was in the shower this morning (and I was doubling up the time, cos I was a stinky bitch all day yesterday) and I'm vaguing out, staring at the fan... and for some reason the way to fix a script I wrote two years ago simply materialised; one minute I was planning a speech to my arsehole landlord, the next I had full visuals of how to really 'finish' the story; make it something more than the usual. So then it hits me... I've had issues with Inspiration since 1997 when dam levels dropped by a third, leading to a new water awareness campaign, the likes of which had not been seen since the mid-80's, when we were told, 'Don't be a Wally with water'... No longer would my conscience let me stand under, gorgeous, hot, streaming showers for twenty minutes at a time in the perfect place for a wandering mind. But I was to be further displeased. In 2006, Melb's water storage facilities recorded their lowest ever annual inflow, and my shower time was further reduced. And in 2008 we were hit with 'T155' (a water consumption program reducing daily usuage to 155 litres per person) and 3a Restrictions (no garden watering; no car washing; empty pools and spas). I did attempt to return to baths at this point, but it's so still in there. I get bored in a few minutes, and I've killed too many books. But fuck... Showering for three minutes you barely have time to get the friggin temperature right, let alone, soap up, wash down and stare at the tiles while stories make themselves in your head for the following fifteen... But this morning, things meshed in my mind with the wonder and excitement and effortlessness of true Inspiration. So I cut my shower short and typed some quick, damp notes before being dumped off of that particular train of thought. (I'm sorry, but I refuse to buy a ticket to travel my own brain.)
Notes noted, be-robed, tea drawing... It hits me. Grrr... Yup, it hits me: I had children in 1997, 2006 and 2008, and was environmentally guilt-ridden enough to use cloth nappies... Holy shit! Oh my fuck!!! All that extra washing screwed My Lady's water up... and... and-and-and (shock! horror! gasp!)
I am ultimately responsible for my own Inspiration.
Well shit. Who'da guessed?
*texts Caliope...*
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