I have to admit, I had high hopes for Germaine Greer.

I heard that she was an excellent public speaker and know just enough about her extensive career to appreciate the effect she has had without being able to form an overly educated opinion on her.

Germaine certainly has a way of captivating the audience. Even within a full room with compromised air conditioning and menopausal temperatures, all eyes were on her. Her talk, White and Black in Australia could have become a rant; instead it was an educated, thought-provoking and at times extremely moving account of the problems aborigines face in Australia. Admittedly, it would not be something I would ever think of researching, partly because I was unaware of the issues surrounding it. Germaine Greer brought the talk alive, with perfect timing and expression, and the sort of steamroller passion that I fear has died out in my generation. She did a wonderful job of sincerely exposing her subject matter with insightful knowledge and as expected, sharp wit. Towards the end of the talk I had to swallow my tears... "I think we have missed the boat" was far too poignant for anyone to dismiss. As she famously said herself, “words stay in there forever” and I don’t think anyone will forget White and Black in Australia.


What equally impressed me about Greer was how approachable she was towards the long line of people waiting to speak to her after the talk. As me and my friend Griff were second to last in the queue and had waited (a bit impatiently) for nearly two hours to meet her, I think it would be fair to say that if her patience was wearing thin, it would’ve been on us. Quite the contrary; Germaine Probably realised how awkwardly star struck we were and welcomed us kindly. She wanted to know all about us and complimented me on my afghan coat, commenting that she used to have a similar one in the 60s. This of course made my day, and she was warm to us in the way a person’s relative would be when you wished they were yours. When Germaine Greer had entered the room, I felt an overwhelming sense of insignificance. I realised that stood before me was a woman who had made a real difference in the world, and here she was at my University, asking me what I do as if I mattered. I am fully aware that being in awe of other human beings is an embarrassing trait to possess, but this wasn’t just a bland celebrity with (as my friend Griff puts it) “as much personality as a pair of damp socks,” she was someone who had changed the lives of thousands of women.


This made her talk feel even more genuine, and the night truly unforgettable.

Attending the GRM concert, I was a little apprehensive that it may have turned out to be one of those pretentious clunky noise performances that people pretend to “get” so as not to look stupid. Luckily, it was not. There were clunky noises, but they smoothed out and bounced off one another in really interesting, unpredictable combinations. Everything sounded very strange, but not unfamiliar at all. The performance was a recording in the dark, which suited the mood well. Dimming the lights meant it felt a lot less awkward to close ones eyes and imagine suitably warped images to accompany the noises, plus it minimised distractions to a pleasing level.

The GRM consisted of four pieces. Semaphores by Christian Zanesi, Still by Benjamin Thigpen, Reflets de notre societe crepusculaire by Pierre Alexandre Tremblay and Transmutations by Daniel Teruggi. I won’t pretend for a second to know a thing about music technology, but I could appreciate how intricate the formations of sounds were, and of course how they made me feel. The first thing that sprung to mind was “Oh gosh, it’s like LSD for ears.” As if someone was dripping raspberry sorbet on my cochlea, the quirkiness sent my head whizzing sideways with word and image association. At one point I was almost certain that I was about to have a sack of rice tipped down my back. The surround sound was out of this world, allowing noises to circle smoothly around the audience, which was very satisfying and polished.

Some of the sounds I Identified (to the best of my hearing) were waves, a didgeridoo, a door and an orchestra. The best experience by far was the elongated dropping of what sounded like marbles from a bag. The crystal quality of the noises provided something which felt too intelligent for my ears. The pieces fitted around each other well, and sent me into a much anticipated dreamlike trance. This being said, it was not easy listening. The second the audience were fooled into thinking they could drift off to enya-like melodies, a warped trumpet would jump in and demand that everyone sat upright and appreciated each second as a crucial aspect of a painstakingly original creation.

I attended a Creative Writing talk today where a few postgrads shared their work, all excellent stuff, and refreshing to see ex-students doing well after a disheartening year learning about the difficulties within the literary market.

The poems which focues on aspects of the gaming world were especially good, and Mystie from the mountains read from her novel too, which was really interesting and well projected.

Later in the day there was a guest talk from Alexi Sayle.
I have to admit, I didn't know a lot about him, but I do know that he is a big deal and rather funny. I don't mean to be ignorant, I just feel that going to a guest lecture without really doing your research can be quite useful. Rather than building the performance up based on their life's work, you can take them at face value which is free from bias, and learn a few exceptional things along the way. It worked with Adele Parks and Liz Lochead last year anyway.

The talk was rather insightful, and hilarious at times. He had some interesting stories about meeting George Lucas and Harrison Ford. When speaking of rulers, he said that he believed everyone wanted to feel significant and safe- I definitley connected with that statement. He also mentioned that his parents (who were fierce communists) wouldnt let him watch bambi. At the end, my friend asked "how do you become funny in five words or less?"
"Fuck off Shithead" was the reply.

I like the man.