Finally, legally, leaving home
*
Dark clouds of the Carina Nebula, pictures courtesy of NASA.
Bury me deep in love,
Bury me deep in love
Take me in, under your wing
Bury me deep in love
There's a chapel deep in a valley
For travelling strangers in distress
It's nestled among the ghosts of the pines
Under the shadow of a precipice
When a lonesome climbing figure
Slips and loses grip
Tumbles into a crevice
To his icy mountain crypt
Buy him deep in love, bury him deep in love
Take him in, under your wing
Bury him deep in love
When the rock below is shaking
The heart inside is quaking
How long this cold dark night is taking
Bury me deep in love
Bury me deep in love, bury me deep in love
Take me in, under your skin
Bury me deep in love
And the little congregation gathers,
Prays for guidance from above
They sing, "Hear our meditation,
Lead us not into temptation
But give us some kind of explanation
Bury us deep in love"
You may lose me on the east face
You may lose me on the west
I may be covered over in the night
Bury me deep in your love yes
Bury me deep in love. bury me deep in love
Take me in, hide me under your skin
Bury me deep in love
Bury me deep in love, darling bury me deep in your love
Deeper and deeper. deeper and deeper
Bury me deep in love.
The Triffids.
So can we call the Christmas cards forward, can we make freedom out of stray bits of hay, can we finally smile as we emerge from the darkness? "I don't think so..." goes a pop song of the moment. They were so tiny, so fragile, so easily destroyed, it was a miracle they survived at all, here on the planet's surface. It didn't make sense, the cruelty that was metered out to him. "You tried so hard with your father, again and again," his mother said. And the same scenario is being repeated, to a lesser degree, decades later, and we veer from private revelations. Do no harm, sayeth the Lord.
It was back then that his stomach churned and his heart thumped and the tears sprang, as they sat outside the suburban barber shop and he refused to get a hair cut. The Beatles were far off, in another country on the other side of the world, but they were coming to Australia on tour and the only thing he could do to show he was a supporter, to show he was an individual, to show he was different, was to grow his hair longer than the regulation norm of the 1960s, which might as well have been the 1950s for all the colour and movement that had reached this far, in this dark, conformist swamp.
Please, his mother pleaded, because she knew just as well as he knew that the result of defiance would be another drama, another beating, another round of tears, more appalling cruelty from the brute in the workshop; stomping around the house, the belt snaking out, him cowering in the corner, smash smash smash, whack whack whack. The red marks all over him. The quiet that descended on the house after the beatings. His mother's prayerful, tearful silence. He was growing, and soon he wouldn't have to put up with it any more. And he counted the days until he turned 16, and he could legally leave.
But as the beatings intensified, he couldn't wait that long. He began a habit that went on for months, perhaps almost a year, where he came home from school on Friday and changed out of his uniform and just walked on down the road, and didn't come back till Monday. And every Monday morning at three or four am, he would show back up, climbing out of some older man's car, and face the music once again. His father would be sitting in the kitchen, having sat their waiting and glowering for hours, the strap laid out across the table, ready. He would walk through the door, a brief exchange of glances and then the attack would start.
Where have you been? came the question, and then whack whack whack as the belt sliced into him, whack whack whack whack so it seemed that it would never stop. And he would go to school the next morning bruised and battered; and heal slowly through the week. And come the next Friday, he would do it all over again. He had always been one of the school's best students; but suddenly his marks plummeted. And the days passed and the months passed; and the beatings escalated in intensity as he continued to ignore them. He had seen a way out now. He had seen a different life.
The private detective they put on him to follow what he did on the weekends scared the bejesus out of the little coterie of boy lovers he had fallen into, those whose attentions and affections were such a contrast to the cold brutalities of his home life; but he was young and wilful and distressed from the beatings, and wasn't really taking in what was happening. When his cover was blown and the men were too scared to pick him up any more, one of them, a radio announcer, fleeing the state and going on to have quite a successful career in WA. But every day that passed he was getting closer to the legal age, 16, the day when he could finally, legally, leave home and there was nothing his parents could do about it.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7554420.stm
MIRA TSKHOVREBOVA, 40, ENGLISH PROFESSOR, TSKINVALI, S OSSETIA
My three sons are currently defending the town - every moment they are risking their lives, so you can imagine how I feel as a mother.
We have hope now that the Russians will protect us
There has been day after day of bombings and rocket attacks. Many buildings have been destroyed. Trees have even been pulled out of the earth because of then force of the explosions.
The wife of my colleague fleeing for North Ossetia was shot and killed.
So what will happen if we continue to be occupied?
The international community, the European community know practically nothing about us.
The mass media never make any distinction between us and Georgians. But we are a very different people.
Yet Europeans support the Georgians in this outrageous action.
For the last 20 years South Ossetia has fallen between the interests of larger powers, stronger states. We now have hope that Russians will protect us, and not betray us as they have in the past.
MAYA MAMAJANASHVILI, 25, TRANSLATOR, TBILISI
The current situation is some kind a nightmare - we can hardly believe this is happening to us.
The Georgian people are afraid and scared. We see how Russian jets are bombing our cities and we see Georgian soldiers being killed.
I live in Tbilisi and hear the bombs every night and early morning.
Who can I blame for this?
I don't know, both sides I think. They could avoid death and disaster if they could manage to settle the problem through negotiations.
They should sit around the table and could discuss the situation. They have to take one step back from the current situation to avoid war.
It is clear that it is the Ossetians and we Georgians who are the ones who have suffered - not Russia. Moscow doesn't care if cities are left in ruins, they don't care how many soldiers are dead. We hope to have peace soon to have an opportunity to sleep without fear.
We want to address the EU and Nato, please do everything to stop this crazy aggression.
http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,24165735-5013945,00.html
LABOR has claimed victory in the Northern Territory after a knife-edge election result that has left the party deeply factionalised and the authority of Chief Minister Paul Henderson considerably weakened.
Opposition Country Liberal Party leader Terry Mills yesterday conceded defeat in the unexpectedly close election race, which hinged on the result in the Darwin electorate of Fannie Bay, which had been held by former chief minister Clare Martin.
A sombre Mr Henderson said yesterday that while it was "not impossible" that Labor could lose Fannie Bay -- which at 18 per cent experienced the second-biggest swing of all NT electorates on Saturday -- he was "more confident" that the Labor candidate Michael Gunner would claim the seat.
Though counting of postal votes continued in Fannie Bay, Labor looked almost certain to be returned to government with a wafer-thin majority of one seat after Mr Gunner's lead over rival Gary Lambert was increased to 92 votes yesterday.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/aug/11/olympics2008.usa
It was easy to spot in Sichuan, and it will undoubtedly be prominent as the Olympics unfold. When the Olympic torch toured the earthquake-ravaged province just days ahead of the games, thousands of onlookers sported identical "I (heart) China" T-shirts. The shirts aren't just a fashion statement in this Olympic moment, but a political statement.
"I (heart) China" serves as the Beijing regime's succinct public response to foreign criticism of China's human rights record: If our people love our country, then you meddlers from outside ought to just shut up. It's a fair point.
In China's Olympic moment, foreign critics are focusing on all the country has failed to achieve, from its abundant air pollution to scant human rights. China's citizens, on the other hand, see all that the country has accomplished after emerging from foreign domination and internal turmoil. They are proud of those achievements and resentful of foreigners pointing out China's shortcomings, especially when those failings don't bother the alleged victims.
Bringing the Olympics to Beijing is the latest instalment in a rather straightforward bargain between Chinese government and its citizens that Deng Xiaoping put in place nearly 30 years ago. The regime would maintain its monopoly on political power, but Chinese citizens would get the opportunity to improve their standards of living.
In the 1980s, that meant decent shampoo and high heels. Now the price is substantially higher. Consumer goods and rising incomes to afford more and more are no longer enough. To supplement material advancement and fill the spiritual gap left by the demise of communist ideology, the Beijing leadership has offered its version of circuses to go along with bread, including space travel and, now, the Olympics.
Dark clouds of the Carina Nebula, pictures courtesy of NASA.
Bury me deep in love,
Bury me deep in love
Take me in, under your wing
Bury me deep in love
There's a chapel deep in a valley
For travelling strangers in distress
It's nestled among the ghosts of the pines
Under the shadow of a precipice
When a lonesome climbing figure
Slips and loses grip
Tumbles into a crevice
To his icy mountain crypt
Buy him deep in love, bury him deep in love
Take him in, under your wing
Bury him deep in love
When the rock below is shaking
The heart inside is quaking
How long this cold dark night is taking
Bury me deep in love
Bury me deep in love, bury me deep in love
Take me in, under your skin
Bury me deep in love
And the little congregation gathers,
Prays for guidance from above
They sing, "Hear our meditation,
Lead us not into temptation
But give us some kind of explanation
Bury us deep in love"
You may lose me on the east face
You may lose me on the west
I may be covered over in the night
Bury me deep in your love yes
Bury me deep in love. bury me deep in love
Take me in, hide me under your skin
Bury me deep in love
Bury me deep in love, darling bury me deep in your love
Deeper and deeper. deeper and deeper
Bury me deep in love.
The Triffids.
So can we call the Christmas cards forward, can we make freedom out of stray bits of hay, can we finally smile as we emerge from the darkness? "I don't think so..." goes a pop song of the moment. They were so tiny, so fragile, so easily destroyed, it was a miracle they survived at all, here on the planet's surface. It didn't make sense, the cruelty that was metered out to him. "You tried so hard with your father, again and again," his mother said. And the same scenario is being repeated, to a lesser degree, decades later, and we veer from private revelations. Do no harm, sayeth the Lord.
It was back then that his stomach churned and his heart thumped and the tears sprang, as they sat outside the suburban barber shop and he refused to get a hair cut. The Beatles were far off, in another country on the other side of the world, but they were coming to Australia on tour and the only thing he could do to show he was a supporter, to show he was an individual, to show he was different, was to grow his hair longer than the regulation norm of the 1960s, which might as well have been the 1950s for all the colour and movement that had reached this far, in this dark, conformist swamp.
Please, his mother pleaded, because she knew just as well as he knew that the result of defiance would be another drama, another beating, another round of tears, more appalling cruelty from the brute in the workshop; stomping around the house, the belt snaking out, him cowering in the corner, smash smash smash, whack whack whack. The red marks all over him. The quiet that descended on the house after the beatings. His mother's prayerful, tearful silence. He was growing, and soon he wouldn't have to put up with it any more. And he counted the days until he turned 16, and he could legally leave.
But as the beatings intensified, he couldn't wait that long. He began a habit that went on for months, perhaps almost a year, where he came home from school on Friday and changed out of his uniform and just walked on down the road, and didn't come back till Monday. And every Monday morning at three or four am, he would show back up, climbing out of some older man's car, and face the music once again. His father would be sitting in the kitchen, having sat their waiting and glowering for hours, the strap laid out across the table, ready. He would walk through the door, a brief exchange of glances and then the attack would start.
Where have you been? came the question, and then whack whack whack as the belt sliced into him, whack whack whack whack so it seemed that it would never stop. And he would go to school the next morning bruised and battered; and heal slowly through the week. And come the next Friday, he would do it all over again. He had always been one of the school's best students; but suddenly his marks plummeted. And the days passed and the months passed; and the beatings escalated in intensity as he continued to ignore them. He had seen a way out now. He had seen a different life.
The private detective they put on him to follow what he did on the weekends scared the bejesus out of the little coterie of boy lovers he had fallen into, those whose attentions and affections were such a contrast to the cold brutalities of his home life; but he was young and wilful and distressed from the beatings, and wasn't really taking in what was happening. When his cover was blown and the men were too scared to pick him up any more, one of them, a radio announcer, fleeing the state and going on to have quite a successful career in WA. But every day that passed he was getting closer to the legal age, 16, the day when he could finally, legally, leave home and there was nothing his parents could do about it.
THE BIGGER STORY:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7554420.stm
MIRA TSKHOVREBOVA, 40, ENGLISH PROFESSOR, TSKINVALI, S OSSETIA
My three sons are currently defending the town - every moment they are risking their lives, so you can imagine how I feel as a mother.
We have hope now that the Russians will protect us
There has been day after day of bombings and rocket attacks. Many buildings have been destroyed. Trees have even been pulled out of the earth because of then force of the explosions.
The wife of my colleague fleeing for North Ossetia was shot and killed.
So what will happen if we continue to be occupied?
The international community, the European community know practically nothing about us.
The mass media never make any distinction between us and Georgians. But we are a very different people.
Yet Europeans support the Georgians in this outrageous action.
For the last 20 years South Ossetia has fallen between the interests of larger powers, stronger states. We now have hope that Russians will protect us, and not betray us as they have in the past.
MAYA MAMAJANASHVILI, 25, TRANSLATOR, TBILISI
The current situation is some kind a nightmare - we can hardly believe this is happening to us.
The Georgian people are afraid and scared. We see how Russian jets are bombing our cities and we see Georgian soldiers being killed.
I live in Tbilisi and hear the bombs every night and early morning.
Who can I blame for this?
I don't know, both sides I think. They could avoid death and disaster if they could manage to settle the problem through negotiations.
They should sit around the table and could discuss the situation. They have to take one step back from the current situation to avoid war.
It is clear that it is the Ossetians and we Georgians who are the ones who have suffered - not Russia. Moscow doesn't care if cities are left in ruins, they don't care how many soldiers are dead. We hope to have peace soon to have an opportunity to sleep without fear.
We want to address the EU and Nato, please do everything to stop this crazy aggression.
http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,24165735-5013945,00.html
LABOR has claimed victory in the Northern Territory after a knife-edge election result that has left the party deeply factionalised and the authority of Chief Minister Paul Henderson considerably weakened.
Opposition Country Liberal Party leader Terry Mills yesterday conceded defeat in the unexpectedly close election race, which hinged on the result in the Darwin electorate of Fannie Bay, which had been held by former chief minister Clare Martin.
A sombre Mr Henderson said yesterday that while it was "not impossible" that Labor could lose Fannie Bay -- which at 18 per cent experienced the second-biggest swing of all NT electorates on Saturday -- he was "more confident" that the Labor candidate Michael Gunner would claim the seat.
Though counting of postal votes continued in Fannie Bay, Labor looked almost certain to be returned to government with a wafer-thin majority of one seat after Mr Gunner's lead over rival Gary Lambert was increased to 92 votes yesterday.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/aug/11/olympics2008.usa
It was easy to spot in Sichuan, and it will undoubtedly be prominent as the Olympics unfold. When the Olympic torch toured the earthquake-ravaged province just days ahead of the games, thousands of onlookers sported identical "I (heart) China" T-shirts. The shirts aren't just a fashion statement in this Olympic moment, but a political statement.
"I (heart) China" serves as the Beijing regime's succinct public response to foreign criticism of China's human rights record: If our people love our country, then you meddlers from outside ought to just shut up. It's a fair point.
In China's Olympic moment, foreign critics are focusing on all the country has failed to achieve, from its abundant air pollution to scant human rights. China's citizens, on the other hand, see all that the country has accomplished after emerging from foreign domination and internal turmoil. They are proud of those achievements and resentful of foreigners pointing out China's shortcomings, especially when those failings don't bother the alleged victims.
Bringing the Olympics to Beijing is the latest instalment in a rather straightforward bargain between Chinese government and its citizens that Deng Xiaoping put in place nearly 30 years ago. The regime would maintain its monopoly on political power, but Chinese citizens would get the opportunity to improve their standards of living.
In the 1980s, that meant decent shampoo and high heels. Now the price is substantially higher. Consumer goods and rising incomes to afford more and more are no longer enough. To supplement material advancement and fill the spiritual gap left by the demise of communist ideology, the Beijing leadership has offered its version of circuses to go along with bread, including space travel and, now, the Olympics.
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