REBLOG#6: (a blog from the backlog!) blog 11: In which I ponder whether a rose by any other name would just be confusing.

I’ll say it for you: “Haven’t changed a bit!”

The story goes that I was given the name Michael because when my mother was pregnant with me, the old lady next door said something like, ‘Not long now till Michael is born.’ For some reason she just assumed that would be my name even though my mother had never suggested it. I like to think our neighbour back then was psychic and had foreseen some great destiny for me. On the other hand, she might have been clinically insane which would probably explain a lot about her. And me.

As it turned out, I’m glad I was called Michael. I like my name. That probably started when I was in Grade Two at the local Catholic School and our teacher said we all had Guardian Angels looking after us. I soon found out that my Guardian Angel wasn’t just any run of the clouds dude. He was the head man, the El Supremo, the Big Kahuna. He was Michael the Archangel – the Aragorn of Angels!

This is the guy who’s got my back? ALL RIGHT!!!!!!

Not only that, but in the classroom there was this massive heavy vinyl poster of A-A Michael dressed in armour and standing on top of a mountain peak surrounded by dark clouds and lightning, holding forth a sword to the sky. He looked like he’d been really working out too! No doubt about it, if you were going to have a Guardian Angel, then this was the guy you wanted. It was like being given Shintaro or the Terminator or Superman as your personal body-guard! Suddenly I was indestructible! I immediately went up and confronted the grade two bully. I was immediately beaten to a pulp. Apparently the Lord works in really annoying ways.

Another interesting thing about having Michael as your name, is how many different forms and variations it can take. More than just about any other name I can think of. Personally, I always refer to myself as Michael. Sometimes I say Mike but it feels a bit strange and a little too intimate. I just don’t think I know me that well. Besides it always sounds false and pretentious when people refer to themselves in the third person and Michael Gerard Bauer is definitely not the kind of person to do that!

However I don’t mind at all what other people call me and I have many close family and friends who never use Michael at all, preferring Mike or Mick as well as variations such as Mikey, Micky, Mikail and even occasionally Michelle! At one time my cousin and best friend took a shine to calling me Mitch. When I was little I often got the double bunger Michael Gerard but also sadly Micky Drippin’. (I’d like to stress here, that to the best of my knowledge, the Drippin’ was a reference to the stuff you cook with, not to any allegedly leaky part of my anatomy).

I think we’d all agree that Mickey Drippin’ is taking creative name mangling too far!

I’ve since discovered that I’m not the only Michael whose had liberties taken with their name. One girl told me that as a child her father was called Underdaks Micky (That’s gold!) and a boy once said when he was little he got Mickety Pickety! What is wrong with you non-Michael people out there?! Haven’t you got anything better to do?

Which brings me to the important moment in my life when I had to settle on an author name.

My first book was going to be published and I was faced with a big decision. What name should I go with? Michael Bauer or Mike Bauer or Mick Bauer or Michael G. Bauer or M. G. Bauer or M. Gerard Bauer or Mike G. Bauer etc etc etc? In the end I decided on Michael Gerard Bauer.

Garage desk

Here’s why:

  • The main reason was, that as a name (and possibly a person) Michael Bauer was just too common. There are heaps of us. Bauer (meaning Farmer) is like the name Smith in Germany, although some people here have trouble pronouncing it. (No it’s not Boo-ah or even Bore! It’s Bow-er. Just like Jack ‘I’m-gonna-shoot-your-wife-in-the-leg-again-if-you-don’t-tell-me-where-the-secret-nuclear-lab-is-located’ Bauer from the TV show 24). So now at least if you were to put Michael Gerard Bauer in inverted commas and Google it (not that I’d ever do such a thing!!) you’d basically just get me and not, for example, a famous food critic from the San Francisco Chronicle, or an unconventional artist from Germany. (By the way, I heartily encourage you to click on that artist’s link and read the descriptions under MB’s first two paintings. We have so much in common!)
  • MGB – Not too cool for school!

But there are drawbacks to choosing the name Michael Gerard Bauer as your author’s name. They are these:

~ You sound like a bit of poser. Especially when people pronounce your middle name Geraaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrd rather than Gerrid like it’s meant to be.

Hmmmmm.

~ The longer your name the harder it is to fit on the cover of your books so it will be in smaller font and we all know the size of the author’s name is usually in direct proportion to the author’s success and popularity.

~ Finally, having three names can confuse people. Is his last name Bauer or Gerard-Bauer? And what order did they go in again?

GMB? It just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

These days when I weigh up all the pros and cons, I’m very happy with my decision to go with Michael Gerard Bauer. Except perhaps for this one nagging doubt:

Maybe if I’d chosen something like Micky Drippin’ Underdaks, I might have ended up the next Andy Griffiths.

Cheers
Michael/Mike/Mick etc

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blog 76: In which I just sit back and let Meg Bauer do all the work.

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My daughter Meg is one of my all time favourite writers. Here’s a little piece she wrote a while back about an incident that happened to her on a Melbourne train.

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Intro: Train

A girl is staring above her, to a scrolling screen. The text moves to reveal “The next station is …Melbourne Central”. She smiles (I was going to write “aloud”). She smiles aloud, acknowledging to herself that this is the correct train, after all, and she is heading in the right direction. She need only travel one stop. Unbeknownst to her, the man sitting opposite is studying her closely, as if waiting for a sign; and the smile not intended for him, emboldens him to speak.

“Hello!”

She looks down and into his face. She does not recognise this man. He is a stranger. She observes that he is Caucasian, forty plus, dressed unremarkably, a little overweight.

“Hello,” she responds, out of courtesy.

“What’s your name?”

It occurs to her that the man is below-average intelligence. She can’t pinpoint his condition, but it is evident that he is “not the full quid”. Only one stop, she repeats, in her head.

“Meg.”

“Megan!” He holds the name up with childlike delight, as you would an especially perfect shell. He is thrilled with this fortuitous discovery.

“I made something for you, Megan.”

The girl frowns.

“You did just meet me now, though…” She trails off, watching as he rummages in his backpack.

“I knew!” He freezes, jerking up to look her in the eyes.

“Have you ever had a poster of a movie poster?”

She asks him, reluctantly, to repeat the question.

“Have you ever had a poster of a movie poster?”

“Not…no, I don’t  think so. But I am getting off at the next stop…” she warns, indicating that there may not be enough time for this transaction to take place.

He hands her a large piece of paper. Sure enough, her name – “Megan” – is written along the top. She notes the childlike handwriting, and assumes he is illiterate. Each letter looks like it has been carefully replicated. She scans the document and sees that it is a list of films, each featuring Megan Fox. It is her cinematic resume. He had even cut tiny cover images from her movies, no doubt from a video store catalogue, and pasted them along the bottom.

“This is very…surprising,” she offers, her sense of humour returning.

“When you get home, stick it on your wall.”

She smiles, suddenly aware that everyone in the carriage is tuned in to this absurdist play.

“Here – I’ll fold it for you so it can go in your bag.”

He takes great care in folding the paper, and places it inside her open bag.

As the train slows to a halt, she stands, thanks him for the gift, and steps out and onto the platform.

Exit scene

Fast-forward two hours

The girl is in her apartment, unpacking her shopping. She discovers the piece of paper, and recalls the afternoon’s encounter on the train. Smiling, she blu-taks it to her fridge. We’re all a little bit nuts, she reminds herself.

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# Meg blogs her writing (but nowhere near often enough) at BECAUSEIFELLINLOVEWITHWORDS. 

# Meg blogs about her love of nature (she is the Communications Co-ordinator for the Wilderness Society) at TREAT ‘EM GREEN.

# If you love both BOOKS and NATURE like Meg, then check out the Wilderness Society’s ENVIRONMENT AWARD FOR CHILDREN’S LITERATURE page. To see what great authors like John Marsden, Nick Earls, Hazel Edwards, Graeme Base and Rebecca Johnson feel about nature, click on the NEWS link and scroll down. (I’m there too but don’t let that put you off.)

Cheers
Michael

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A brief musical (?) interlude.

Before my next blog, a brief musical interlude from the Return of the Dugongs Concert at the White Ravens Festival in Munich with Timm, Holger, Michael, Thilo and Traugott from the Hamburg band GONE FISHIN’ and featuring Nicki von Tempelhoff on vocals.

I’m there too. I’m the one doing a poor imitation of singing while desperately (and occasionally unsuccessfully) trying to remember the words of my own songs.  Despite that, it was still one of the best nights of my life. (And yes, I miss the high five at the end. 😦 )

In the book the song Memory Sea is written by Ishmael’s father about his best friend and fellow Dugong’s band member, drummer Billy Mangan. Billy is tragically killed in a car accident just as it seems the band is on the verge of success. His death is also the end of the band, that is , until over 20 years later, they reform with a surprising replacement drummer for the Return of the Dugongs Concert …

 

MEMORY SEA

I just turned around and you were gone
They said. ‘That’s how it is, life goes on.’
But every now and then I float away
And find myself adrift in yesterday.

And I’m drowning in a memory sea
I’m drowning in a memory sea
I’m drowning in a memory sea
But no-one there can rescue me.

All the things that used to ring so true
Turned into a lie when I lost you
And now I’m trying to find what I can see
In all the broken dreams you left for me.

Chorus:

I remember all the things you used to do
I loved you more than I ever knew
It’s time to leave the past behind I know
But I’m not sure that I can let you go

Chorus:

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Blutenburg Castle: Home of the International Youth Library. The concert was held in a marquee in the courtyard near that big tree.

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White Ravens Festival

Happy, excited concert audience … and then I started singing.

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blog 75: In which I say a brief and belated goodbye to the last two months of 2014.

My brief recap on November and December:

  • I had my last school visit for the year talking to the Year 9s at Mt Gravatt High who had studied Don’t Call Me Ishmael. Great kids, great school.
  • I managed to break our duster and thought for one brief, glorious moment that the days of my onerous house-dusting duties were finally over. But then my wife informed me that she could easily buy a replacement from a shop. Bummer.
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  • My son Joe Bauer and my daughter-in-law Rita Artmann’s new feature-length sci-fi comedy film AUSTRALIENS had its Premiere, playing simultaneously in two theatres at the Barracks cinema complex in Brisbane on November 7th. A wonderful night and a great success. So proud of Joe and Rita and everyone involved in the production. Look out for it at upcoming film Festivals here and overseas and then hopefully at a cinema near you or out on DVD.

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Cast and Crew as seen by Joe Bauer. My wife and I are in there somewhere.

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JOE in GREEN. RITA with GUN

  •  I shared a session on local places, local stories with Ellen van Neerven (Heat and Light) at the inaugural Eat Your Words Festival at the Uni of Qld. Good friend and fellow author Samantha Wheeler (Smooch and Rose; Spud and Charli) was also part of the day. Congratulations to the organisers and the band of volunteers for getting the day up and running. (And I promise I was more animated on the panel than I look in this photo!)
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  • For a while there all the magnificent poincianas around Brisbane were on fire …CAM02174… until a couple of these bad boys blew in.IPADMINI 041
  • The strange structures that just pop up mysteriously in the bush where I walk started breeding!

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  • My wife and I had a really lovely Christmas Day lunch with some members of my family. While there, I filmed this video of my sister-in-law Karen clearly demonstrating how her pet Blue Tongue lizard ‘Buster’ would, in her words, ‘WOULD NEVER BITE ANYONE’.

  • Joe created this really really epic Eric Vale/Derek ‘Danger’ Dale Christmas card.Print
  • After Christmas lunch in Brisbane my wife and I flew to Melbourne that night to spend the week with my daughter Meg and her partner Ryan. While there we had a fantastic trip along the Great Ocean Road to see the Twelve Apostles. Spectacular. (And I’m not just talking about that photo of me below!)SAM_2308CAM02218CAM02217 CAM02230 CAM02225 CAM02224

Otway Treetops Walk

Otway Treetops Walk

  • On our travels my wife Ard even discovered her namesake. I always said she was gorge-ous!

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  • And I discovered (to my pain) that apparently this was supposed to be some kind of a WARNING sign. Well next time, why not make your message obvious so that the average person can understand it!SAM_2321
  • On our return to Melbourne, I did some bunny bonding with Basil.10891999_10152969784342630_256656831586567959_n
  • And finally, Ard and I flew back to BrisVegas on New Year’s Eve where we had a very subdued entry into 2015. In fact I just channeled surf the TV for a while, watched an old episode of Rumpole of the Bailey, headed off to bed at around 10.15 pm and slept right through the midnight fireworks.

And so that’s the way my year ends.

Not with a bang … but a Rumpole.

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Hahahahahahahahahaha! Talk about laugh!

Cheers
Michael

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