In Uberwald, the landscape is slightly psychic. This means that a mad inventor can rely on an electrical storm on the night that he needs to spark life into his creation, or that a teller of ominous prophecies can expect a clap of thunder at exactly the right moment for peak dramatic effect.
In my world, the weather is slightly psychic. This means that, on long weekends when I am at work (and the air-conditioning is broken), I can rely on stunningly beautiful weather, but on my day off between the long weekend and going back to uni, I can expect grey, nothing-ish weather.
Actually, come to think of it, it seems that in both of my examples it's the weather which is psychic. I used the term lanscape since that's the term Terry Pratchett uses, but I'm not sure that it's the appropriate one.
As you can tell, despite the fact that I Officially Don't Like Terry Pratchett Who Is A Humorless Book-Hating Twit, I can't help but like his books. I've had more self-discipline when it comes to Officially Not Liking Tim Freedman And The Whitlams, since I now no longer like them as people or as a band.
A couple of years ago, Sydney Uni was celebrating 150 years of incorporating the expensive, elitist values of private education into the public education system, and as part of this celebration, they threw an enormous fete which included a performance by a few musical alumni - specifically James Morrison and, later, The Whitlams.
I went along to see James Morrison with a friend of mine, and we set ourselves up on the grass in front of the stage with cheese and bread and Tim Tams, and settled back in the sun to enjoy the music. As usual, Mr. Morrison and his band were spectacular, and in a lazy, basking mood, we stayed on to hear The Whitlams.
About two-thirds of the way through the set, Tim Freedman looked directly at us, and said 'This next song is for the two lonely, desperate girls sitting in the front row' -- and then sang one of the Charlie songs. Jaws dropped; disbelief reigned. Had we just been insulted by Tim Freedman?
It was the choice of song which was most shocking. Those Charlie songs are depressing and bleak as fuck. As my friend put it at the time, 'He might as well just tell us to go out and kill ourselves right now, since there's no hope'.
A year or so later, we had come into possession of free tickets to a Whitlams gig at our uni bar, and despite our Official Dislike Of Tim Freedman, we had decided to go (nobody can argue with free tickets, right?).
No personal insults this time around, but we were offended in a more general sense by a crack Tim Freedman made about a student protest in the city that day which had - if the media is to be believed, and it's not - gone bad. It was clearly meant to be funny, but there was nothing funny about it. It was just offensive.
That was the end of it for Tim Freedman and the band. They are officially on my list of Most Disliked Things, and look set to stay there forever.
In my world, the weather is slightly psychic. This means that, on long weekends when I am at work (and the air-conditioning is broken), I can rely on stunningly beautiful weather, but on my day off between the long weekend and going back to uni, I can expect grey, nothing-ish weather.
Actually, come to think of it, it seems that in both of my examples it's the weather which is psychic. I used the term lanscape since that's the term Terry Pratchett uses, but I'm not sure that it's the appropriate one.
As you can tell, despite the fact that I Officially Don't Like Terry Pratchett Who Is A Humorless Book-Hating Twit, I can't help but like his books. I've had more self-discipline when it comes to Officially Not Liking Tim Freedman And The Whitlams, since I now no longer like them as people or as a band.
A couple of years ago, Sydney Uni was celebrating 150 years of incorporating the expensive, elitist values of private education into the public education system, and as part of this celebration, they threw an enormous fete which included a performance by a few musical alumni - specifically James Morrison and, later, The Whitlams.
I went along to see James Morrison with a friend of mine, and we set ourselves up on the grass in front of the stage with cheese and bread and Tim Tams, and settled back in the sun to enjoy the music. As usual, Mr. Morrison and his band were spectacular, and in a lazy, basking mood, we stayed on to hear The Whitlams.
About two-thirds of the way through the set, Tim Freedman looked directly at us, and said 'This next song is for the two lonely, desperate girls sitting in the front row' -- and then sang one of the Charlie songs. Jaws dropped; disbelief reigned. Had we just been insulted by Tim Freedman?
It was the choice of song which was most shocking. Those Charlie songs are depressing and bleak as fuck. As my friend put it at the time, 'He might as well just tell us to go out and kill ourselves right now, since there's no hope'.
A year or so later, we had come into possession of free tickets to a Whitlams gig at our uni bar, and despite our Official Dislike Of Tim Freedman, we had decided to go (nobody can argue with free tickets, right?).
No personal insults this time around, but we were offended in a more general sense by a crack Tim Freedman made about a student protest in the city that day which had - if the media is to be believed, and it's not - gone bad. It was clearly meant to be funny, but there was nothing funny about it. It was just offensive.
That was the end of it for Tim Freedman and the band. They are officially on my list of Most Disliked Things, and look set to stay there forever.
posted by beck at 10:50 am
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