Phil Brown

When the physiotherapist suggested I try not to sit down for a while I was initially dumbfounded.

“But that’s what I do,” I protested. “I’m a writer. I sit down all day and write.” This has not been easy since I injured my back a few weeks ago.

I was surfing at the time and had just successfully navigated a triumphant re-entry in the shore break at Main Beach. I then jumped off my board into the shallows and felt that sickening twinge that I have experienced around once a year for the past decade.

I hobbled up the beach like Quasimodo. My wife, who had been watching, was wearing that expression which, roughly translated, means: “You bloody idiot!’

Since then I have attended my local physiotherapists rooms twice and on both occasions have been treated to the sort of torture I imagine the Gestapo used to dish out.  I have also been given a limited exercise regime and received that advice about not sitting down. This, I guess, means I should stand up.

But how would that affect my writing? Well, adversely, according to French author Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) who, in a letter to his protégé Guy de Maupassant (I love his short stories), wrote: “One cannot think and write except when seated.”

Flaubert was a sedentary sort and the German Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche abhorred this attitude and when he heard of Flaubert’s advice to de Maupassant he apparently snapped: “The sedentary life is the very sin against the Holy Spirit. Only thoughts reached by walking have value.”

My physiotherapist would probably agree. And I do recall reading of various writers who have written standing up, notably my teenage literary idol Ernest Hemingway who worked in a vertical position

due to a minor leg injury he received in World War One. Apparently Thomas Jefferson, Charles Dickens and Winston Churchill also favoured this methodology. It’s a habit that is gaining currency again in this sedentary age when bad backs are endemic.

There’s actually something of a movement developing around the idea and you’ll find lots on the internet about the health benefits of standing at work and home. My wife was in Cairns on business recently and on a visit to the ABC Radio Far North’s studios discovered that their morning presenter, Fiona Sewell, does her show standing up, sometimes even dancing while presenting! This has, according to station manager Debbie Kalik, enlivened the program no end.

I wish I’d known about the virtues of standing in my youth when I had a Christmas holiday job labouring on the Hinze Dam in the Gold Coast Hinterland. There we were slaving away like extras in a scene from Spartacus. Sometimes we just couldn’t take it any more so we’d just stand around, resting on our shovels. That’s when the foreman would come over and shout at us. “What are you blokes doing just standing there?!” I could have mentioned Hemingway, quoted Nietzsche or spouted a line from Milton - “They also serve who only stand and wait” - but I have a funny feeling that would have been lost on him.

Went to see Morning of the Earth the other night at the Brisbane International Film Festival. This is Albert Falzon’s 1972 movie classic which sums up the essence of the “soul sufing” experience and more power to the festival for programming surf flicks, a forgotten genre in the annals of Australia cinema. For a crusty old surfer it was a nostalgic experience and great to see surfers such as Terry Fitzgerald and Michael Peterson on the big screen. It brought back fond memories of teenage years crammed into dowdy Gold Coast cinemas with hundreds of other surf rats hooting and hollering and puffing on Rastafarian cigarettes. Go on YouTube and check out some footage from Morning of the Earth if you have some spare time. The soundtrack featuring Tamam Shud, G. Wayne Thomas, Brian Cadd and others is awesome. Also take a look at Sea of Joy, another classic from the early 1970s made by Paul Witzig. It also has a great soundtrack with music by Tully. These films capture the essence of the experience of surfing and remind us why we do it, albeit infrequently nowadays.  Cowabunga!

They say that east is east and west is west and never the twain shall meet. Same goes for the north and south, actually.

It may not be as pronounced as the difference between the Union and the Confederacy during the American Civil War but here in Brisbane there are two distinct worlds - one north of the river (our very own version of the Mason-Dixon Line) and one on the other side.

I got to thinking about this the other day when my wife, Sandra, said she was going out to a café to celebrate the beginning of a work colleague’s maternity leave.

“So where are you going?” I asked.

“Oh, just some place on the south side,” she said.

“The south side!” I shot back. “Are you serious?”

She might as well have said the South Pole as far as I was concerned and, as a north-sider, I found this incomprehensible.

“We have cafes here, you know,” I said.

Since moving to Brisbane in 1986 I have always lived on the north side … at Paddington, New Farm, Spring Hill and now Wilston.

I do venture to the south side occasionally but mainly South Bank for the cultural highlights and West End, where my base camp is Avid Reader Bookshop in Boundary Street. I go no further, generally, unless I’m on the freeway heading to the Gold Coast.

Last year we made a rare south side excursion on a mission to buy a puppy. The breeder lived at Brown’s Plains and I had to carefully study several road maps and mentally -steel myself for our foray there.

“Will I need my passport?” I asked my wife on the day. “And shall we pack a picnic lunch?”

On the way out there - or should that be down there? - everything looked so unfamiliar, I felt like I was in another country. When we arrived at our destination, which seemed to take forever, I said: “Are we even still in Queensland?”

I wasn’t comfortable until I had crossed the Story Bridge again on the way home.

I know people who live in Sydney feel the same way. My relatives on the North Shore, for example, rarely venture across the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

I spent my childhood in Hong Kong, another divided city. You either lived on the island - known as Hong Kong-side - or on the mainland -

Kowloon-side. My father’s family first moved to Kowloon in the late 1930s, so that sealed our fate. When I was a boy people who lived Hong Kong-side were considered, well, a bit snooty while Kowloon-siders were considered riff-raff. Brisbane is a more egalitarian city but the geographical divide is just as strong.

Mind you I hear there are some lovely people living on the south side and one day I’d love to meet them. As for the east and west, well that’s a whole other thing and I’m not going there. 

I’ve been watching old Bond movies with my son Hamish lately and it has been a real revelation. Fox Classics has been playing them, from the beginning, and we are through the early Connery ouevre and loving it. On Her Majesty’s Secret Service starred Aussie George Lazenby as 007 and as much as I enjoyed him, Hamish just couldn’t cop him. So now we’re waiting for next weekend and the beginning of the Roger Moore films, of which there are quite a few. The early films are, however, still the best, in their own way. Love the baddies and of course these are the films that inspired the Austin Powers films. The inspiration for Dr Evil is so obvious and the real Bond films are no less outlandish than the Mike Myers spoofs. Dr No is a crack-up but I think Goldfinger was our favourite. Gert Frobe is sensational as the portly baddie. Connery is a hairy-chested he-man Bond and even though I’ve enjoyed the other actors to took on the role later, he is still the original and best. Hamish is intrigued by the Bond films and we’ve enjoyed sitting, all rugged up, on the couch, watching and later re-watching them. I remember as a kid in the 1960s the excitement that surrounded each new Bond film so maybe there’s some nostalgia involved. The Bond themes certainly add to that and I’m looking forward to more Bond mayhem in the coming weeks. And when they are done we’ll be happy to start again.

The idea that housework is good for the soul may sound almost ludicrous to some of you but I must say that I find it a rather refreshing idea. Brisbane Author Sally Collings explores the spiritual dimensions of domestic drudgery in her latest book, Parenting with Soul (HarperCollins $27.99) which is a little ripper for those who have spiritual aspirations but can’t actually be bothered doing anything about them.

You don’t have to, says Sally, because whatever you are doing is already a spiritual path, if you are doing it mindfully and, if at all possible, with some reverence. In a poem of mine I once referred, laughingly, to putting the garbage out in a prayerful fashion. In light of Sally’s book (which I may be simplifying somewhat) I realise now I was actually on the right track. I found the section entitled ‘Housework for the soul’ particularly encouraging because unlike many blokes, I really like doing the housework. Firstly, it’s a diversion from all the other things I should be doing and the simple, ritualistic pattern of doing the dishes, sweeping leaves and straightening the towels on their racks is, I find, quite calming, a sort of moving meditation. It helps keep me sane, or kind of sane, at least.

To mention another book - the obscure but helpful The Eating Gorilla Comes in Peace by Da Free John - in that tome it is said that for personality types such as mine (in Ayurvedic terms, Vata-Pitta, or was it Pitta-Vata?) household chores must be attended to or, and I’m paraphrasing here again, one would be hysterical by dinner time without them.

Housework has another, somewhat less spiritual dimension for me, however. It’s all about control. I may not have dominion over the world outside (much as I would love to) but I can control the realm between the four walls of the house: not including my wife, son and the dog.

Besides them, I am master of all I survey and by constant vigilance I can keep everything ship-shape and Bristol fashion. Having created a pleasing symmetry throughout I can then sleep peacefully knowing that everything is as it should be.

It’s an illusion, of course but one I shall cling to, nonetheless. And now that I know that by doing so I’m being spiritual as well, gosh, that makes me feel blessed indeed. Amen.

Lord Mayor Campbell Newman’s brazen tilt at the Premiership from outside State politics has inspired me to put myself forward. Not wanting to limit myself, however, I am offering myself up for the leadership of not only the LNP, but also the State branch of the ALP, the Greens and by golly, the CWA too while I am at it. Hell if His Nibs is qualified I am too. I helped out with flood relief - moral support from my loungeroom but still, I was with everyone in spirit - and I also work for an organisation with Brisbane in the title (Brisbane News, that is). And I think I may even be ahead in certain areas. For a start, I’m taller than he is. So I thank the Lord Mayor for blazing my trail and opening up a brave new world of politics where everyone can have a go. It’s quite liberating to find that you don’t even have to be a sitting member to have a go at the Premiership. Perhaps we should just make it by popular vote on the Internet in future anyway and elect anyone, perhaps the person who has the most followers on Twitter or Facebook? Meanwhile, I am available to lead the aforementioned organisations if needed. And while I’m at it I might put myself forward as a potential boss of BHP or Fortescue Matals Group or even Secretary-General of the United Nations. I mean, how hard can that be? So thankyou, Lord Mayor Campbell Newman, for opening my eyes to the horizon of endless possibilities. I am looking at the future now, thinking YES I CAN! Can I get an Amen or a Hallelujah for that?

I am now apparently on Facebook, a cause for rejoicing? Not a bit of it, in fact the whole thing fills me with trepidation. I am technophobic in the extreme and even admire luddites. They are way ahead of me in the digital stakes. My wife signed me up despite my protestations. In the end I relented because I thought it was time I did something and I certainly don’t intend to Twitter any time soon. Liz and Warnie have ruined that option as far as I am concerned. But now I am part of the Facebook generation although I have to confess I have no idea how to work my own page. My wife keeps promising to show me but I shirk from that too. Fear is a terrible thing. I say give me a week off and a team of Facebook boffins to explain the whole thing to me. Actually, better make that a fortnight. Also my webmaster, Dieter, has made me a facebook page for my website and he’s been emailing me about that although I haven’t the heart to tell him that I have no idea what he’s talking about. My workmate Sharnee Rawson has also offered to help although I wonder if she knows what she’s setting herself up for? Never mind, apparently I’m on Facebook, go figure. Look me up by all means but please don’t expect me to get back to you anytime soon. I’m still trying to figure out how electricity works.

Queensland Premier Anna Bligh has had a tough time recently and while her government might deserve it, she doesn’t. She’s a good operator and, if she had a solid team around her, she would be kicking butt. Sadly the party is letting her down. Anna is an intelligent, competetent and very nice person, actually. I mean we went to the same school - Miami State High School on the Gold Coast -  at different times, admittedly. But we have sung the school song together in public. We veterans of Miami High protect our own, you know. Brisbane’s seer of the century, Julianna (www.julianna.com.au) predicted 2010 would be an annus horribilis for the Premier. She got that right.

How does she do it? Not sure, but having been on the receiving end of her psychic profiling I know she has a rare and astounding ability to pull stuff out of the ether. Many will be keen to hear her predictions for 2011 and here are some of them.

That Prime Minister Julia Gillard and Labor will not quite cut it with the Australian populace and that Wayne Swan may usurp her before her term is up. I say, bring it on!, because I want a Queenslander as PM again. Still missing you Kevin.

Also, Julianna predicts that Lara Bingle will be in a reality show set at the Playboy mansion. That makes sense.

There’s also the prediction that Mel Gibson will be shown to have been used and manip[ulated when he goes to court regarding his child and previous relationship. And that his career will have a resurgence. That makes me happy because I feel that Mel has been somewhat persecuted of late and that the press and the public have NOT given him a free go. We love the Melster!

According to Julianna Barack Obama and the Democrats will suffer a massive loss at the enxt election and 2011 and 2012 will be tough years for him with more trouble brewing in the North Korea / South Korea situation.

Julianna reports that Prince Charles will not be passed over for Prince William as King. Nor should he! I’m not really a monrachist but I feel he would make a fine king. But Julianna - please explain: does this mean The Queen will die? Heaven forbid. We love Elizabeth II. Who doesn’t?

There is also a prediction that Greg Norman’s love life will prove to be even more complicated than it seems. Is that possible? What is it about these super rich golfers. Mind you Greg is still a pussycat compared to Tiger. RRRRROOOOWWWWWWW!

Julianna has plenty more predictions but that’s enough to get you started on wondering.

For my part I’m looking to get her take on the Mayan Calendar and the end of the world in 2012 and all that. Julianna, say it isn’t so!

For I have discovered the secret of manipulating time, slowing it down. Some background: I lay abed the other night in a cold sweat with the horrible realisation that I was now 54 and closer to death than I have ever been. How did this happen? (No correspondence please, I actually know) This at a time in my life when things seem to be zipping by and each Christmas comes around quicker than the last. The following evening however, a revelation. Time can be slowed down to a mere trickle in the auditorium of any performing arts centre where there’s a musical playing. A case in point the present production of West Side Story at the Queensland Performing Arts Centre. I was present on opening night and about 30 minutes into the show I realised that time had slowed down and  the sand through the hourglass was moving like treacle. I had done it, I had slowed time down without even trying, just by being there and witnessing the amateurish horrors unfolding on stage. There, in Row D, I experienced a stasis worthy of a book by Stephen Hawking. In my seat I conquered and toyed with time - every second seemed like an hour, every minute an hour, every hour a day, even a week. After interval time seemed to stand still completely and I experienced the eternal moment in a way that I imagine few humans have. In extremis I had conquered time and space. Hawking tells us that time moves at different speeds in various parts of the universe. In my own theatrical black hole I was a Time Lord par excellence and I watched my entire life pass before my inner eye in that brief eternity. I have experienced flashes of this before, mostly sitting, looking at my watch in a darkened theatre, wishing I was elsewhere. But this time it was a Satori beyond anything that had gone before. Remember the lines of the song …”If I could put time in a bottle …” by Jim Croce?  That was me. I was the vessel and time filled me to the brim and I captured time, distilled it and drank it down. Then, my mastery of that most enigmatic universal experience was relinquished as the curtain came down and the show, mercifully, ended. I looked at my watch. Strangely only a couple of hours had elapsed, hours that felt like centuries, millenia even. I can’t wait to go back to the theatre again, soon, to experiment with this phenomenon. It should be a musical, however, because time passes most slowly when there is singing and dancing involved. Weird, huh?

Enlightenment is a tricky business. Suprisingly it’s often best sought after within one’s own life rather than by escaping, as the main character in the new film Eat Pray Love does. At the front of Patrick White’s excellent novel The Solid Mandala you’ll find a quote to that effect. I don’t have the book in front of me so I will have to paraphrase: “There is another world but it is within this one. It is not outside, it is within, wholly within.” Jesus said similar things about the kingdom of heaven being within but Liz, the main character in the film (based on a book I haven’t and will not read)  tries to achieve wisdom by escaping her life to Italy, India and then Bali. Of course when you run away you take yourself with you, that’s self-evident but not to selfish, self-centred Liz, apparently. To seek enlightenment one should start, well, from here. And it is possible to achieve  this being a clerk in the public service, a labourer or an executive. The journey is an interior one and while it’s nice to go on holidays it’s always nice to return to the centre of one’s being - home, that is. If you want to read a good book about the search for meaning try The Razor’s Edge by W. Somerset Maugham. It has also spawned a couple of fine films, much finer than Eat Pray … whatever …