Bon Voyage, Oliver, Adieu!
Manufactured in Taiwan in Feburary of 1995, perhaps on some stuffy and temperamental-weathered day, Oliver the iBook G4 was born. Silicon, solder, mercury, cadium, arsenic, plastic polymers and liquid crystals fused and brought life into the inanimate form. An apogee in technical and architectural mastership, a jewel of computer science and an ace card for Apple Computer, the new notebook for the market was released. Fresh off the assembly line, still piping hot with the aroma of newness and potential and cradled by polystyrene and cardboard, it reached Sydney’s sandy shores sometime in early July and slugged an arduous life ever since its very first boot sequence.
One of the biggest problems we’re facing at the moment is the consumer-culture attitude brought to a gratuitous excess – the belief that old technology products are useless to us, and shouldn’t even be considered for recycling or reuse. And even with the current technologies for recycling available, the big companies and corporations are in it for the money – pulling apart logic boards and solder, to salvage copper and other scrap metal parts for resale. This is an attitude that must be changed if we are truly caring and conscious of our environmental footprint.
Nevertheless, one of the central problems here is that most people are ignorant of the fact that technology products contain a balance of highly recyclable ingredients, highly toxic ingredients and are, in most cases, very easily repairable for re-use. Earlier this year, I managed to donate over fifty old Macs to charities and it is a great sensation to know they will be put to full utilisation. I’m a big believer and practicer of recycling and re-using technology products, and it almost brings tears to my eyes in the joy in seeing this old rig given a new lease of life.
In his admirable off-white shell, Oliver rested many hands, sheltered the internals from the elements of the world. Glue peeled from his joints, metal expanded from his pouts, the close-catch never engaged when you wanted to put the monitor down and head to sleep. Without a complaint and ne’er a system crash, it played DVDs, it did word processing, it surfed the Internet and was so darn hot on your lap, it probably would have fried a couple of eggs for you, while waiting impatiently for it to load the simplest of applications.
Oliver had a special purpose in my heart. Taken from the boy of the same name from the Dickens novel, I rescued him from a decrepit, dusty, dirty home where he was not looked after and seldom used. Ready for disposal, I brought him to life with a jumpstart of technique, patience and expertise, prying together whatever resources I could scavenge and afford. Ruddy-cheeked and devilishly opinionated, we had many quarrels with Microsoft Word — (yes Oliver dear, I realise that my sentence is a ‘fragment’.)
And in October of 2009, he found a new home in the Pyrénées-Orientales, Catalan, Sahorre, a province of Southern France bordering Spain. Soon he will be absorbing the sights and smells of saffron from his farmer-family caretakers and possibly mailing me soppy love-letters that I will need a translator to interpret. Thesis, rent, rantings and more, you had a good run.
Bon Voyage, Oliver, Adieu!
- P.S. I hope you get first-class seats in International AirMail! Cattle-class is just so passè.
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Coltrane’s Musical Mastership: ‘On Green Dolphin Street’
Although there’s no official phrase that I am aware of, ‘taking a walk on Green Dolphin Street’ has become a saying in my mind that is synonymous with being prosperous and awfully proud of it.As it turns out, ‘On Green Dolphin Street’ began as (a rather obscure) Hollywood film, the brainchild music of Bronislaw Kaper and Ned Washington as music accompanying the historic drama film. There’s something about the title and the lyrics, in my mind at least, make me think of glamour and city chic, guided by one’s own sense of personal confidence and musical talent. I heard this song for the very first time on a passing, and determined to track down the face behind the music by keeping the melody in my mind for the better part of two years. We’re talking two years ago – we didn’t have Shazam or the iTunes Store to identify and even provide a link to a downloadable copy of the content.
What makes the song so appealing rests in more than just the melody. Who wouldn’t want to get hitched on Green Dolphin Street, or perform a glamorous gig, go on a successful first date or a shopping spree? When I think of green dolphins, I think of something out of the ordinary, something sophisticated and suave. If this is a first time listening to this wonderful song, you’re in for a treat and a paradigm shift, compliments of one of the greatest jazz musicians of our time.
Randwick Bridge
The women call me Genghis Khan
For my chains and endless beard
Holding children to their chest
Dirtied little faces beaming
From their sodden naval sheets
-
The children stare with mouths agape
And giggle through their fluffy cloaks
At strange gruntings and moanings at night
Yet there isn’t much to see
With the wool pulled over their eyes
-
The men call me a hero tramp
For my brave, endless beggary
They count their shillings from their day
From their labour deftly spread about
The infinity of a day
-
Randwick Bridge sings to me;
A tarmac above my watery grave,
Whilst I dream of making passage there,
The filtered light speaks miracles
To my yellow, calloused skin.
-
Each day I stare with a fish-eye
Poised steady upon my view,
Upon our quarters beneath the world
The edges turn all fuzzy and blue,
For all visions come through dreaming
-
Footbridge to my sleeping quarters
Promenade to my begging spot.
Pier for my idle mind
And my teacher most kind indeed;
I march as a dead man in ether.
-
For one fateful day I lost my way
And fell into the water
Beneath the surface I saw so clearly
The strong foundations of the Bridge
And fell to sleep by the calm undulating vision
-
Before my fatal step
I etched my story into woodwork
My few lines of poetry to say:
-
“This wooden beam hath been my totem,
My ascension and my fall,
Look all ye upon its form
Like a cruel splinter in the sea.
-
I climbed the broken ladder rungs
A passage into death
And through my misery I hope
You learn from my mistake.
-
I took the fatal passageway
To dote upon the Bridge,
Sweet in all her promises
But cruel in passing her gifts.”
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- Coltrane: On Green Dolphin Street
- Afghanistan’s Plee for Renaissance: Return to Modernity
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- Bon Voyage, Oliver, Adieu!
- Coltrane’s Musical Mastership: ‘On Green Dolphin Street’
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