Less is more: or less. What?


It's a busy week in the World of Mish with lots of things to do and see and do and.. see.

Yesterday was particularly action-packed with a whole work day, followed by the Dean's Lecture: Food vs Environment by John Williams. He said things like there are 70,000,000 new mouths to feed on this planet every year. He said that by the year 2050 there will be 2.6 billion more people on the planet. He said it cost five or six times more resources to process an already-grown potato into Pringles than it took to just grown the potato to maturity in the first place. He said stuff I knew and stuff I didn't know. It was a good talk.

I followed the lecture with a frigid wait for a tram into the city - where does all the heat go when the sun disappears? I hope scientists figure that out soon because I don't always remember my cardigan.

I met up with Teh Fox and Willo at a Chinatown restaurant - the name escapes me at the moment and to be frank: is pointless anyway, I doubt we'll be going back unless we drink a lot ( a _lot_ ) first. Not that it was that bad, just, it wasn't that good, you know? When the waitress (and to be fair, this tickled my fancy completely and is almost a reason to go back to the establishment) asked what I'd like to order and then listened to my order as one of their offerings of duck which read very much like their house *special* duck. She then proceeded to tell me that what I had chosen was, in fact, not a good idea - that it wasn't that nice and I ought to try duck with a different treatment - roasted, she said. So I decided to go with her judgment and she was right, it was okay duck (only my second time with duck so I'm all new and shit) but when I'm weighing duck up against Mon Ami slow roasted duck (my mouth just filled with saliva at the very thought of Mon Ami's duck and it's gone midnight and that's just crazy to be that orally active over the thought of eating a meal when I'm not even hungry).

What was I saying? I got all waylaid or.. ambushed.. or. mmmduck.

Oh yeh. So. Yeh. An okay meal - it did the trick but it wasn't the greatest Chinatown has to offer.

We left there and tooddled up the road to Hoyts to see the movie (look, I removed the link I had here for the movie's official site because the trailer they show there shows.too.much - so don't visit the site, just go see the movie) Burn After Reading.

Look I'm not going to bang on about this movie. I'm just gonna say I think you ought to see it. I say this particularly if for some daft reason you were thinking you'd skip it. Not really sure why you might consider skipping a Coen Brothers movie, but crazier things have happened: like being talked out of one duck and into another by a waitress. As good as that story was, the movie is _way_ better.

That was last night, and this is tonight. It's the Melbourne International Arts Festival and that means the Spiegeltent is in town. I love the Spiegeltent. It's beautiful and magical and tonight it was full of ukuleles.

Now, I'm not sure if you know this but: I love ukuleles. I want a ukulele. I want to learn to play a ukulele. I like to sing along to a ukulele. (still not actioned any of this being that I don't own a ukulele) so I asked and a she answered, and Suzanne, the eversoslightly pregnant Scot, accompanied me to the tent and listened to 22 songs in 60 minutes and for your viewing pleasure (or displeasure if a) you don't like ukuleles, b) you don't appreciate my lo-fi film-making or c) there is no c.) To all the working stiff, Joe Sixpack Plumbers (haw haw) out there like me, I give you: Workin' for the Man by the Melbourne Ukulele Kollective.

extra credit and Blue Smoke (dude, I LOVE this song)
The Wellington International Ukulele Orchestra (cos I love Age Pryor)
AND FoTCs business time (just cos they's funny)

The ukulele thing was sandwiched between food too - Suzanne and I met at EQ bar and cafe down by the Yarra for a pre-dinner wine (me) and food (baby) and a chat. It was, as it always is with Suzanne, utterly delightful. Her Gnocchi was good and my lamb skewer thingies weren't too bad either. We returned to the establishment post-ukulele for dessert - I had the panna cotta and an espresso, (can you tell? no? good, cos it's only half midnight and I'm still like *boing* ) and she had the pear tart with pastashio nuts. We both agreed after trying each others desserts that they were both good, but we were entirely happy with our choices and didn't feel the need to share any more.

I came home to my Melbourne family - Jet even managed to pull himself from bed (10pm - what a lightweight) and come say hello. Fox's parents dropped in for a cup of tea on the way home from the movies - they're lovely and it's always nice to spend time with them.

Now I'm about to turn out the light and let my coffee infused brain deal up some dreams for the night. I just hope Brain doesn't decide to deal up the serial killer one again - I've already had that one this week and once is enough for anyone, don't you think?

Tomorrow is another work day and tomorrow night is a talk down at the Domain thingie at Docklands - Friday night is another International Festival outing (that's me going to another event, not dragging homosexuals out of closets). Fox mentioned wanting to go to the Gallery this weekend and I meant to tell her that I thought that was a great idea and I'd love to come too if she wouldn't mind the company. (I hope I remember to tell her that tomorrow - she won't read this post all the way to the end, she'll still be up there watching/rewatching the ukulele stuff - she can't get enough of it!).

I'm leaving you with this video from TED.com. You know the site, and it's full of wonderful videos of people talking about fascinating things. I enjoyed this very much, and hope you like John Hodgman's story as much for the telling as for the told.