Driving to a party, after giving my paper `Bureaucratic Voices' at the AAWP conference, I heard a show about rap on Radio National. Some phrases caught my ear:
· “I’m gonna go third person—get ready for dat.”
· “The only way you can do it is tell the truth.”
· Parent: “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Child: “I wanna be a muthafuckin’ Hustler.”
At the party, I spoke about Third-World aid allocation. The most efficient way of distributing it, I was told, is to give the money to less badly-off second-tier countries, where more of it is likely to arrive at its intended destination. Secondarily, I offered, this might encourage third- and fourth-tier countries to improve their situation and thus gain access to these funds too.

I ask for nothing;
and more, I give her nothing.
The sum of all love.

US election, belated:

The Masses are never wrong. If you can turn them to your will, then you probably should and you’re probably right to.

The now-glaring truth, missed by those who think reason and argument will prevail, is that the People are all that matter: the prime goal is to get their vote, by any means. When in power, one can be as benign and rational (or otherwise) as one likes.

Intelligent conservatives are so oddly relieved at Bush' re-taking the White House, and yet he is an affront to these people in particular.

The law has the trappings of dignity, but it is not generally a dignified profession.

Sailing strikes me as a splendid middle-aged occupation. I was looking through binoculars across the river at Goolwa, in the late afternoon (note heavy-handed symbolism--we'll hear the loon's cry next), and spied a 60-ish couple relaxedly hauling sails together on deck, which, to the observer, seemed an idyllic way to spent one's down-time as a couple while still physically able. Although perhaps, invisible from our balcony, they were bickering mercilessly: "You never could tell your goddam port from your starboard, George." "Well if you handled my mainsail a little more effectively maybe we wouldn't have a problem. And no-one could accuse you of losing track of the port, Martha."

I recall a young Simon Devitt (nephew-in-law) and I went out on a catamaran, capsized near rocks, and were `rescued' by a nimble thirteen year old in a speedboat who asked me for a rescue fee of $5 ("I fear thy skinny hand!"), despite my cash having sunk to the bottom of the trench. ("And a thousand slimy things/ Lived on; and so did I.")

as her desire fades
she perceives a universe
ruled by desire

Borders finally got in the 2003 Jan Jelinek CD. He's a bit jazzy, a bit ambient (almost too much so) and a bit Eno-electronic. Mixed together, it makes for a cool, shuffly down-time groove.

And yet, I was disappointed. One track replicates the bathroom tap dripping. But, after a few listens, Track 7 in particular began to work. (The song I first heard in the car in August (MML–2050): ‘No Ifs And or Buts’.) Other tracks improved with th’ iteration, too, after putting the CD on ‘Repeat All’ one afternoon.