Tag Archives: death

movies I’m looking forward to…

I’ve been oddly stuck on movies and tv shows of late, so just before I foray off the topic again (ah! but will I?), here are some film clips I’ve come across that are making me really excited.

First and foremost is Sucker Punch. I love the hyper-stylistic film-making of 300 and Watchmen – and of course,¬†whatever else you can say about the film,¬†the graphics in The Owls of G’ahoole were amazing (all Snyder films). This film wanders into thematic territory that I started exploring in a YA book I wrote the first draft of last year: the inner landscape of the outer landscape.

Very. Excited.

Mia Wasikowska seems to be making it. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s a great thing. She’s entirely watchable and happened to grow up in the same little city as me. She’s also only 21…eeep!

I love surprising love stories, with ending-in-death endings. But it’s the ghost friend that makes me really want to see this one.

And lastly, because I find I have a thing for action movies the older I get (is this because I allow myself to admit it now, or because my tastes have changed?), I’m looking forward to The Eagle. It also reminds me a lot of this online novel I’ve been following. The two leads are both actors I really enjoy watching, and I hope there will be something of unrequited love in the film, too…

I am astounded and delighted by the worlds people create, without end.

some brilliant writing

last night my sister came over to watch the New Aussie Drama Offspring. It was pretty meh. But we got suckered into watching the show that comes after it, and that was a revelation.

The show is Married, Single, Other and there are going to be spoilers, so maybe don’t read on if you were thinking about watching it.

The episode started kind of regular-paced, but was good enough to keep us past some ad-breaks. But by the time one of the women found out at the end that she had an inoperable brain tumour and six months to live, I was clutching special k to my chest and trying not to shake the house down with my repressed sobs.

Ok, so I may be slightly premenstrual, but there was also some incredible writing that went into me having that reaction.

Think about it – I didn’t even know these characters before that one episode. I had nothing invested. And really, even in shows you keep up with, you may think “Aw, that’s sad!” but how often are you really, truly moved and made to feel sad?

The dialogue between the woman and her fiance (who she has two teenage boys with) was flawless. Everyday and quirky in a non-contrived/specific-to-them sense (the private language of lovers and life-long friends).

So when the fiance claims that he will punch holes and make the earth spin the other direction before he lets anything happen to his girl, you get why he would say that, and what it means that he does.

(Oooh, getting teary just thinking about it – how lame!)

It’s the very best of that British self-depracating melodrama.

Oh, and another very original description. Today our nephew described special k’s eyes thus: Kind of brown in the middle like they’re rotten, then blue but like cracked glass.

Er, thanks?

some things about turbulence

Today my sister and I took our nephew (6) and our niece (4) on the plane from Melbourne to Canberra for a holiday with their grandparents.

Melbourne – Canberra is the kind of flight where you’ve just opened your book and are contemplating buying something off the trolley, when the captain announces that you will be commencing descent in a minute.

Not much room for anything much at all to happen. Two things happened.

1. My niece wanted me to go through the entire Emergency Procedures booklet with her. She asked me, “What happens if there’s an emergency?”

Oh dear. “There won’t be an emergency, sweetheart.”

Then she gave me this look. Somewhere between patience, disappointment and withering scorn. “What would happen?”

“The crew would tell us, and I would be right here to help you do everything you had to do.”

“Ok,” she said, looking like a kid again.

It’s a bizarre thing about adulthood that we look back at children with such anxious objectivity. When moments like this arise – the “where do babies come from?” and “is Lassie in heaven now?” moments – it practically feels like a moral dilemma. Do I tell her the truth and ruin her innocence forever or lie and keep her perfect?

Hey, the girl just wanted to know what would happen. She wasn’t the tiniest bit interested in my phony cheer.

2. I have never experienced turbulence like it. Lots of potential for emergency. I don’t personally enjoy flying, at all, and if it had just been me and special k on that plane, I would probably have been halfway to paralysing his fingers for life. My face would have been scrunched as tight as it could go, and buried in some warm, alive part of his body.

Sitting between two kids who rely on you does amazing things for the threshold of what you can do. Because they were there, there was no room in me for the fear that we might die. We weren’t going to, because they were there.

“Just relax like a jellyfish,” I told them, and attempted somehow to do the same.

love is a crutch/love makes life bearable

to my thoughts about Love I add this:

Last weekend I cleared some things up with special k – one of the effects of which is, I’m not going to mother him anymore. I decided I quite like the idea of us both being grown-ups who can deal with the world when we can and ask for help when we can’t.

And I like still feeling like me – and still being curious about him, because I don’t assume I actually know him at all.

I think when you’re in a long-term relationship with someone the easiest thing in the world is to get lazy – to sag in towards them and the comfort they provide. You start pre-empting each other and you wear grooves into certain familiar conversations.

It’s comfortable and easy, but it leeches personal initiative like nobody’s business.

But then today, when I felt like I was dying of pain (women’s business, probably best not to ask), the only thing in the world that could make me feel better was speaking to special k. I had taken too many painkillers: nothing. I had tried hot water bottle, sleeping, curtains drawn: nothing.

There was not a single safe harbour for me in the world but him. As soon as I heard his voice I could relax, and after speaking to him for ten minutes I passed out.

There’s a strong case for being independent – for still being the responsible, causative, joyful thing that generates your life. I’ve also always been a bit afraid of what would happen if special k died before me, and I didn’t know how to be without him.

But there’s definitely some equation in our society that goes: dependence = bad. Like you shouldn’t grow leaning towards anyone else.

When it’s as obvious to me as it was today that special k is something to me that nothing else on earth can be, I will gladly break my heart every day without him, if that’s what it takes to have this.


when I was about ten I was called to my older sister’s side because she was inconsolable.

“She read your diary,” Mum told me, “and now she thinks you want to die.”

After looking in a kind of despairing wonder at my sister’s red and crying face, the penny finally dropped. I had written I hope that I die peacefully in my sleep. Meaning, of course, when I die, far, far off in the future. I explained matters to my sister.

A couple of days later she smiled smugly at me and teased me about Francis Simmons, who I’d written about in my diary.

I am lying in bed beside special k (facing me this time, his book fallen against my arm, his sleeping fingers holding the page) and just wanted to write a goodnight message. The first thing to come to mind were those lines from Romeo and Juliet:

eyes look your last!

arms, take your last embrace!

but I thought that without the above anecdote some confusion might arise from the sentiment.