(no subject)

My task for the weekend (when I'm not working or resting or doing essential lifethings) is to memorise the first 6 lines of the Aeneid. I used to know them and I used to sing them to the tune my father used for "Be Kind to your Web-footed Friends" (which is a perfectly respectable tune with a grand pedigree, but which I can't take seriously because of my father's misuse of it) as I learned at university (just so you know I learned something useful at uni). It annoys me that I've forgotten and so it's time to remember. It can only improve my Latin.

I want to go to the National Museum for their Australia Day celebrations (Jimmy Little! bushfoods!) but am resigned to it not happening because there's no-one to go with and two busses are beyond me still. Instead I shall sing Arma virumque cano, as many times as it takes. I can see no reason why Virgil shouldn't be used in celebrating Australia Day. Aneas was colonising, after all.

(no subject)

I'm very curious to know what the real Gillian Pollack (who lives in New Zealand, according to Google) wonders about all the strange things that happen to her. Three people have sent me links this week to references they've made to me, which have in fact been really references to her. Though I'm sure she would agree with me that Marianne de Pierres' next novel should be fluffy and pink*.



*Marianne needs to know it was really me (Gillian Polack) who said it and not Gillian Pollack, since I'm the one who deserves whatever revenge she metes out. Though I'd sincerely love to see what one of Australia's edgiest SF writers does when writing a fluffy pink novel. Maybe it will turn into one with fluffy pink killer rabbits? And what would Jenny Fallon do if asked to write a novel set in one room? Or if Kaaron Warren was told to write determinedly upbeat space opera in 6 volumes? Or Justine Larbalestier were forced to write a story about rambutan-eating zombies killing unicorns? Wait, that last one isn't impossible. She would love to write that one. She might even make her zombies stop halfway through the slaughter to watch the cricket. (and aren't I lucky most of these writers don't read my blog!!)