Summer.
Book 2: La Bella Lingua
This week I read: La Bella Lingua by Dianne Hales.
It’s about the author’s love affair with the Italian language, what she calls, “the most enchanting language in the world.” And it’s a slightly different tale of foreigner falling in love with a European country, because this one features the romantic, as well as the factual. Hales’ knowledge on all things Italian is remarkable – well researched, and well lived.
I was drawn to the book because of my own background; being fluent in Italian allowed a certain depth to the book – an understanding, you could say.
But La Bella Lingua isn’t just about language; it features a great deal of Italian history too. Dispersed amongst both language and history are personal stories from Hales – most of them joyous and all of them warm and endearing. The entire book is about Italian culture – and how language plays a part in it; in literature, food, film, music, people.
And it’s about Hales’ journey – from admirer, to living like a true Italian.
Cheaper than a plane ticket, and more informative (and engaging) than a documentary, it’s a celebration of la dolce vita (the sweet life) and le cose italiane (Italian things).
Billy Connolly and Me.
I met Billy Connolly today. It was an entirely random encounter. And oh so awesome.
I have loved Billy Connolly since I was 12 – since I first started watching his DVDs, and laughing and laughing beyond plausibility.
He’s hilarious; but also right in so, so many ways.
He’s right when he talks about political correctness gone mad, when he expresses his distaste for ‘beige’ people in life, when he goes off at both things and people utterly useless.
He’s clever, and witty, and honest, and entirely devoid of pretence.
I’ve seen him live, twice, one of which being last week. And I was stoked, no, thrilled, to meet him today.
He’s lovely. Just lovely.
Book 1: Summer at Tiffany
One thing I resolved to do this year was read a book a week.
I’ve always loved reading. And as a writer, reading is imperative. Reading as much as you can. Whenever you can. And a good mix of it too.
I strongly believe that if you want to write well, you need to read well. In fact, if you want to think well, you need to read well.
And so I plan to share, each week, the book that I have read, and a short review of what I thought, or felt, liked or didn’t like.
This week I read: Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart.
It was fun. Joyful. Innocent. A romp of a memoir about a couple of college pals from Iowa that head to New York City in the 1940s and get a Summer job at Tiffany’s – at a time when Tiffany only employed men.
Hart, now in her 80s, reflects upon the best Summer of her life – with her best friend by her side, they navigate their way through a new city – the opportunities, the challenges, the boys, the stores bursting with things they want most – cosmetics, hats, gloves and designer dresses – and life, in a post-war country.
It’s the kind of story, all entirely true might I add, that makes you want to switch eras. Hart’s charming account of her Summer of 1945 is romantic – it presents the city, the people, the time, Tiffany – through peachy pink coloured glasses. And the reason I suspect she presented such an account is because it was accurate – the New York she describes is hopeful and engrossing, the people gentle and friendly, and the time – tough, but utterly glorious, and wholly full of promise.
The Melbourne Writers’ Club.
I’ve decided to start a Melbourne Writers’ Club. A monthly, engaging, supportive place for writers to gather, have a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, network, share ideas and stories and keep up to date with industry news.
I love spending time with like-minded people. I love listening to people and learning about them, and from them. And I love writing, and anything that encourages it.
I also love the idea of being in a club. Because, let’s face it, as you get older, unless you play a team sport or are a parent, the chance of you belonging to a club is zero to none.
And I don’t mean being a member of a club – we’re all in on those – whether it’s our footy team, or gym, or workplace, or a committee of some sort. I mean being a part of a club. One that isn’t virtual. Or ad hoc. A club that meets, face to face, on the first Tuesday of each month, or something wonderfully lovely like that. One where each member feels a part of something special because they are the only members. And it has nothing to do with exclusivity – but rather the melding of a common love and a talent and a desire to do something with it. A desire to grow, learn, be better. Share, support and laugh.
Yes, I love the idea of a club.
The Melbourne Writers’ Club.
That’s what it’s going to be called.
And it’s going to be magic.
Perhaps I should create a secret club handshake? Or a codeword? Personalised pens? Maybe purchase a Tiffany key to adorn a chain each member must wear…actually, perhaps not.
Sometimes You’ve Got To Leap. Just Because.
Sometimes in life, you’ve got to leap. Into the unknown. Into something new. Sometimes, into someone new.
That might mean slowing down.
Or speeding up.
It might mean spending less time out, and more time in.
Working harder.
Or working less.
It could mean breaking away.
Changing the mould.
Spending less time with people you always have, and more time with people you’ve always wanted to.
Branching out.
Doing what you want to do.
Sometimes, you’ve got to draw a line in the sand.
Change the way you act.
Think.
And are.
Become someone who hunts for what they want.
Lives for what they love.
Someone that chooses the hard road.
Someone that pushes the boundaries.
Someone that adds fuel to the fire.
Someone that gets it.
Wants it.
Finds it.
Just because.
Just because you don’t want to be that kind of person.
The kind that never branch out.
Never think differently.
Do the same thing.
Run the same race.
The kind that never push the boundaries.
That never want for more than what they know.
The kind that cower, not hunt.
Choose the easy road.
Have a thirst for nothing.
That just don’t get it.
Sometimes, it’s easier being that kind of person.
Comfortable.
Sarcastic.
Inclusive.
But it’s also mind-numbingly boring.
Devoid of personality and individuality.
Bereft of good and honest people.
Sometimes, you’ve got to be the other person.
That leaps.
Evolves.
Expands.
Someone who makes it.
In your own way.
On your own terms.
Just because.
Image featuring my superstar friend Liv Hambrett, taken from A Big Life.
Onya Aid – We’ve Got Your Back
Onya Magazine is hosting a fundraiser for the QLD Flood Relief on Australia Day. It’s going to be an amazing afternoon full of fun, food, drinks and music. We’re already being inundated with gifts, hampers, and some seriously awesome big ticket items that we’ll be auctioning on the day – there’ll be silent auctions, as well as a live auction, and some lucky dips as well.
We’ve had interest from businesses across the country, as well as local personalities and musicians wanting to get involved – plus an Australian Open tennis player or two!
It would be wonderful if you were able to make it along and support the people who have been so heart-breakingly affected by these horrible floods.
In Defence Of Music Festivals.
Sometimes, people like to think the worst. They like to judge, comment and criticise. But sometimes it’s without reason.
I’ve been going to music festivals for as long as I could. And I’ve heard a lot of comments as to why they’re, well, bad. Horrible. Full of wankers. Too this and too that.
In defence of music festivals, I’d like to say the only thing that they’re full of, is, well, love. And dancing. And laughs. Smiles. Friendship. Beauty. Fun. Reflection. Optimism. Mateship. The best parts of people, all merging together.
They’re about having conversations with people you’ve never met – and probably won’t again. Trusting in a crowd of thousands. Sharing glances and smiles.
And there’s nothing wrong with any of that.
Summadayze, Melbourne, January 1st, 2011:
In 2011, I Resolve To…
I don’t set goals. I don’t see the point in thinking about what I’d like to achieve and how I’d like to get there – I’d rather start acting upon the things I want to do and working towards the place I’d like to be.
I recently read, in What I Wish I Knew At Eighteen by Marty Wilson and Daniel Gregory, this quote from Ken Roberts:
“Do not have goals – they’re too limiting! My career has taught me that things work out much better than I would ever have been audacious enough to ask or pray for. Just do what you love and see what unfolds.”
Those words speak to the very core of me. I have no idea how this blog post will end, let alone my life. I don’t plan articles. I never once used an essay plan in high school. I started a business with no business plan. I certainly don’t plan any part of my personal life. It’s just too boring to do so.
But it seems, now, early in January 2011, that a lot of people are planning their goals. And thinking about what they’d like to achieve from this New Year. Resolving to do things. And I’ve no problem with that. There’s something refreshing and promising and hopeful about a New Year.
And whilst I may not set goals, I do like to reflect. And resolve to do things.
So, in 2011, I resolve to:
- Only spend time with people I like. Somewhere, between Primary School and growing up, we manage to accumulate an android phone bursting with contact details of people we don’t actually like. I’m not interested in spending time with those people any more. Harsh? Perhaps. But life’s short, and I don’t intend to waste it on people that I don’t like. There’s too many people in the world that I love, and I’d rather spend my time with them.
- Write. A lot.
- Take lots of photos. And then some more. And then even more.
- Work, work, work.
- Actually plan some things; day trips, mini breaks, a trip to New York, catch-ups with the people I like, adventures.
- Read. A book a week. At least.
- Keep a memories box. I did this for a number of years when I was younger, and looking back through them after time has passed is an exciting re-discovery – each item kept triggers a memory or an emotion. And that’s definitely worth the shelf space the box requires.
- Be me – unapologetically, wholeheartedly, and with so much gumption my ponytail will emit sparks, like a firecracker.
Christmas Is All Around Me…
SANDI SIEGER. 