Become a cartoonist in two hours
Apparently I’m not much good at the basics of cartooning but not totally crap at drawing comics. In other words I can’t draw but I can write a story. This event was great fun. I went becasue I’m interesting in making comic-ish zines. Patrick and Rebecca were great at coordinating the different skill levels of those involved.
What are you worth?
I was on this roundtable and honestly I felt rather underqualified. I don’t know anything about freelancing and that’s what this ended up being about. I learnt things. The “audience” had all kinds of expertise. I was, for example, very tempted to give up my seat to Benjamin Law. One of the things I love about this festival is the blurred line between those sitting up the font and those sitting on the floor.
I’ll be honest. By this stage in the afternoon my shimmer of a headache had turned into a pulsating lump and I was starving. It was a good panel though, despite my vaguely delirious state. The insights into blogging and alternate forms of publishing was fascinating. My favorite comment was that blogs shouldn’t be judged on hits or followers but on the quality of the writing.
Lunch on Hunter St
I couldn’t quite believe that I got to 4pm without eating anything. I was also a bit astounded by how far we had to walk from the main festival venues to find food. And that everything was closed at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon. What I eventually ate was someone between a pie and a pastry. It was quite delicious, even when eaten while walking. I bought it at a bakery. More I can’t recall.
Free-to-air television is for old people and idiots
This was supposed to be a debate. Except that the Affirmative team were short one member, due to a tragic miscommunication. Not to be beaten, however, a university debater was pulled at random from the audience, doing a spectacular job in minimal time. Zora and I, as the Negative team, were the clear winners. But at the end of the day the big winner was television.
Dinner on Darby St
The original plan was to head from the Debate over to Women of Letters but a text from the inside told us it was totally packed. So we walked toward Darby St in search of sustenance. (I say “we” in all these instances because I’m not confident to name everyone without a-getting the names wrong and b- misspelling them.) The food we eventually found wasn’t bad, although the rice was criminally over priced. The BYO policy didn’t discriminate against cask wine. You know what would make this a better review? If I could remember what the place was called.
The park is rather nice at this time of night. I’m not sure I’d wander through there alone but with a group the atmosphere was nice. An excellent platform for political debates and discussion about the various types of laughter. (Don’t say you’ve never contemplated the difference between chortle, guffaw and snigger.)
The Festival Club really is the place to be. If you’re looking to have new and interesting discussions with new and interesting people all you need is a ginger beer and an opinion. It’s a bit loud and dark inside and there isn’t a lot of outdoor seating. More room wouldn’t go astray, it would make it easier for newcomers to claim a spot.
Newcastle Beach at Midnight
Its kind of pretty but apparently its also the place to be if you’re a drunken local. And drunken locals don’t necessarily take well to “poofter” writer types. All in all, if you want to swim in the sea baths in the wee early hours (or watch other people while they get hyperthermia) take the road.
Getting up to blog after being up until after 2am
If I fall asleep at any point today you now know why.