neonchameleon

I have argued for a while that Epicureanism is a refinement of Hedonism and Stoicism is an advanced development from Epicureanism; "To live, to live well, to live better" (Whitehead, "The Function of Reason"). Each of these represents a qualitative change and, as one learns in the business of Quality Assurance, that is defined as improved precision and is differentiated as a continuum of accuracy, ultimately from "high quality" to "low quality". I find that this applies to people as well as processes; inconsistent people, who fluctuate between emotive extremes, can occasionally be enjoyable and exciting, but ultimately are hurtful and exhausting and are thus best avoided, no matter who is enticing the good times are. Such people invariably are unsuccessful in life; quality requires both a degree of consistency and reflective, tested, improvement.

Over the past few days, I have been fortunate enough in life to experience a few examples of high-quality experiences. The first was an evening of music, which I attended with Kate. This was headlined by the Paul Kidney Japanese Experience, and supported by The Black Heart Death Cult and Cat Crawl. All performed with great competence in accordance with their particular style. "Cat Crawl" (who describe themselves as "a three-piece tantrum in the form of a band") provided early 1980s-style feminist punk with humour, whilst in comparison "The Black Heart Death Cult" were a gloomy-shoegaze fusion, reminiscent of the French "blackgaze" from the 2000s. Finally, the Paul Kidney Japanese Experience gave something akin to a Japanese version an extended Hawkwind space rock concert. All in all, a great night with a great variety of styles. As a radical contrast, the following day Nitul invited the end-of-semester Baroque Ensemble Concert from the students at Unimelb's Faculty of Fine Arts and Music. It was an admirable selection from Lully, Bach, Vivaldi, Schein and more, and in total included over fifty performers of music and song. I found myself, as I often do in such music, drifting off to another world.

As more culinary experiences, Kate and I attended the Melbourne Italian Festival the following day at the Melbourne Exhibition Centre. The building is beautiful, but despite my heritage, I find a great deal of contemporary Italian culture pretty gaudy at best, especially in the field of fashion, homewares, and music. Of course, in food and film, it retains a very high level, the latter with a decidedly leftist influence. Apropos, last night I had the delight of being cooked for by the Minister for Climate Change Action and Energy Resources, etc, Lily D'Ambrosio, who provided an astounding Calabrian feast for some twenty individuals whilst showing off the capabilities of induction cookers. Lily deserves high praise for the quiet revolution she has led in Victoria, changing the production of electricity towards renewables and, more recently, with the phaseout of fossil fuels in domestic appliances, all with significant success. Quiet revolutions too, can be an example of quality.

It's been several months since I've written anything for Rocknerd, and over the past weekend, I put together three reviews that have been sitting on the back burner for too long. The first is a bleak review of Bleak Squad's debut performance at the Queenscliff Town Hall. The second, a review of John Schumann and The Vagabond Crew performing songs of Redgum at the Darwin Ski Club, a thoroughly enjoyable concert, and the third, the charm of Guy Blackman's album launch at the Northcote Social Club. One can also add this to the few hundred words I penned on "Command-Line CD Extraction and Formatting", which uses some delightfully old utilities and is helping me put together a selection from my own vast collection in the most efficient manner.

It all adds to what was already a bit of a rocknerd weekend, starting on Thursday night, where I caught up with Adam F., at The Retreat Hotel to see a very competent instrumental funk band, "Buttered Loaf", ply their sounds. I've never had a bad time at The Retreat, and I do enjoy a good funk band, so this was quite a delightful evening. The following night I had arranged a small posse (Kate, Liza, Tony, Declan, Carla, myself) to go to The Grace Darling and see "Cold Regards", a 1980s coldwave guitar-synth duo (Marc and Jaimee) whom I've heard a lot about for more than a year. It was really my type of music, as were the other acts, "No Statues", and "Human Intrusion". The latter group was using the night for an EP launch which they distributed, in retro-cyberpunk style, on floppy disks (with oversized floppy-disc props on stage). Said performers may all find themselves subject to me putting finger to keyboard in their name in the future.

One of the nice touches of "Human Intrusion" was their backdrop with various 1980s science fiction clips, which included part of John Carpenter's "The Thing". Unpopular at the time, it has since gone on to become the cult hit that it always was going to be. Somewhat unfamiliar with movies of this suspense-horror-gore genre, I decided that Kate R., needed to view this classic in preparation for our Antarctica trip, where it's an annual screening at the Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station. The gory special effects are more clever than terrifying these days, and the theme of in-group paranoia stands up well, especially with the ambiguous ending.

This week was the Moon Festival, mid-autumn in the northern hemisphere, a harvest festival celebrated in Chinese culture and among its aficionados for about 3000 years. Due to the use of the lunisolar calendar, the event can be anywhere from mid-September to early October when a full moon is present. Last year it was around the former, this year the latter. The weather permitting, it is often held outside with friends and family, which is meant to coincide with the harvest gathering. Making and sharing mooncakes is one of the hallmark traditions of this festival; last year I made some, a fairly complex process, this year I received some from the Consulate, which I took to Anthony and Robin's where, joined with Matthew, we had a little festival of our own and imbibed several glasses of Maotai; at 53% that stuff is like rocket fuel, but doesn't have bad effects the following day. The following evening, I had a second Moon Festival with Kate, where we engaged in the dice game of Bo Bing, one of the many games of celebration held at such festivities.

There are several additional parts of the tradition that I find particularly charming. One is the reflection on distant friends who, although not present, will be gazing at the same moon at the same time as you are. Another is the opportunity for especially close friends to express their fondest desires and greatest dreams to each other, although one imagines that sometimes that can result in a bitter harvest, so to speak. But perhaps my favourite is reciting one of the variations of the story of the goddess Chang'e, whom the festival is named after. The version I tell recites how she drank an elixir of immortality and flew to the moon, becoming the moon goddess. Her heroic but still mortal partner, the archer Hou Yi, made mooncakes to show how much he missed her; talk about shooting for the moon. Chang'e would later be joined by a rabbit who had been exiled by the Jade Emperor for surrendering the elixir of immortality to the Queen of the West.

I did take the opportunity this year to reflect on distant and absent friends and on the new harvest from the last celebration. Despite some significant disappointments, I am more than satisfied with how this year has progressed so far. I also have my eye on an even more involved and interesting twelve months in the future, which involves a fairly significant life change. It is not something that I am prepared to discuss publicly, but those whom I have told know of its importance. I have already observed some sadness among you with the realisation of what this change will entail, but remember that no matter where we are this time next year, we will be gazing at the same moon and in celebration.