Cirque Adrenaline, Melbourne 2016 Review

Cirque Adrenaline

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



I really don't know why I bother going along to these circus things; the physical excellence on stage always leaves me feeling like an uncoordinated slob. A complete oaf. A kind of knuckle-dragging, sloping forehead, slack-jawed, monosyllabic-grunting primitive. They don't just leave me feeling like I've just emerged from the primordial soup, they make me feel like I AM the primordial soup. Thanks, guys, thanks a bunch.

On the upside, Cirque Adrenaline really does live up to its name. It's a great big shiny production and clearly no expense has been spared. The sound and lights are indeed sensational and aid in ramping up the excitement, but when you get down to it, its the skill of those humans tumbling, twirling, balancing or flying through the air (sometimes all at the same time) that really gets the heart racing. There are no safety harnesses or nets. There is the very real possibility that a stunt may not go according to plan. They may be freaks of strength or balance, but they are also human, flesh and bone.

The show starts with the entire ensemble of performers exploding onto the stage (figuratively speaking) to much fanfare. There is a palpable sense of camaraderie on show. We are then treated to some clowning from LA based Ross Steeves. I wasn't really feeling the love for this part of the show... it seemed aimed more at kids than adults. The kids lapped it up, and there were lots of kids present, probably because I was at the Sunday matinee – not the best move if you are allergic to over-excited chipmunk voices. The clown segments later in the show worked for me and I smiled out loud quite a lot.

After seeing some of contortionist Sabrina Aganier's floor work on Youtube, I was keen to see what the French Canadian was going to do with a hoop suspended in the air. OMG, as the kids say. So flexible... so incomprehensibly bendy... but so mesmerisingly graceful. You can read an interview elsewhere on this site in which the performer says she enjoys every moment of this performance, and after seeing her live there is no doubting this. Her relaxed fluidity almost distracts you from the freakish contortions she is performing. Stunning. I fell a little bit in love with Sabrina after seeing this performance.

Also stunning were aerialists Alex and Nastaya Mischchenko from the Ukraine, the intimacy of their performance enhanced by the fact that they are life partners. Exquisite stuff.

There was nothing exquisite about balancing guy Alex Mruz, also from the Ukraine. Such an ordinary looking bloke, he did an extraordinary piece involving an impossibly fragile stack of tubes and balls that left no margin for error. This act simply doesn't look possible, and it's guaranteed to get your palms sweating. It did mine, anyway – actual power sweating.

There is some impressive fire work, trapeze and trampoline work, but the big boys are the slightly cheesily named Wheel Of Death (ooh) and Sphere Of Fear (ah). Cheesy names, yes, but the thrills are very real. The Wheel Of Death is a big twirling thing with... like... there are two big tread-mill circles at each end of the axis and... if you can imagine a couple of extreme hamsters... not that I'm saying Jhonathon Reina and Diectter Pastran are hamsters, it's just that this is a difficult device to describe. These same guys perform in the Sphere Of Fear, in the end having three motorcycles riding around manically inside what can only be described as a sphere of fear. Totally nuts, but somehow they manage to do all this stuff with no one getting hurt.

As mentioned, the soundtrack was fantastic and covered a very wide range of styles including (unfortunately) a dubstep. Dubstep is Satan music. Even so, somehow Cirque Adrenaline even got away with this musical faux pas.

The costuming was fabulous enough to have this Viking of a writer gasping and using the word fabulous. I want to shop where they shop.

So what's to like about Cirque Adrenaline? Pretty much everything. It's not just fun, it's FUN! It's so fun and so exciting that it shut down those chipmunk voices and left the adults unable to manage anything more than “Wow” at the end of the show. (Many wows and at least one “OMG those costumes were fabulous!”). Go with kids by all means, but the real pleasure in shows like this is that they put you in touch with your own inner child. You will be thrilled. You will be amazed. Just strap yourself in and go along for the ride.

My Review Of Charlie Pickering's How To Tame A Wild Squirrel

Is here.

Tutu Tuesday In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

In keeping with Moustache Monday, we had Tutu Tuesday. Big hit with the customers. Tomorrow is French Friday, because it's Badaboom Beverley's last day. I shall miss her, although there are still plans to work on our duet of Solitary Man.

Still can't believe I sang with a musician playing an instrument and that she wants to do it again.

Moustache Monday In Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

I don't know which of my boys is more handsome - Kafka Woman or Badaboom Beverley. (Love these two).

Tutu Tuesday tomorrow. Yes, Grumpy will be wearing a tutu.

Quietly Into The Night

Art by Xac Downes

Words by Lee Bemrose

Quietly Into The Night

Every now and then
Life breaks me
And quietly into the night,
I howl.

I howl at what we've become.
I howl at the cruelty.
I howl at the kindness
That is crushed,
I howl at the injustice,
Why them and not me?

I've sung to plucked strings
Have heard the harmony
In the voices of strangers
And I'm fortunate enough
To know true love.

But sometimes life breaks me,
And quietly into the night,
I howl.

Grumpy's Angels

I just love days like today. I am surrounded by gorgeous souls in this photo who all work so hard in the cafe. Viola, on my far left, is a friend who helps out in staff shortages. She is a great worker and lovely presence. She gave me an early morning guerilla hug this morning because of something I wrote about the person immediately to my right, who you might know as Kafka Woman. She likes to hug hello and goodbye if possible every day. I have no problem with this.

The person to my immediate left (yeah, she gets her own new paragraph), that's Badaboom Beverley. She's the one who suggested the Front-Of-House head design in the photo. Don't worry - revenge is already sorted. It's going to be so fun.

After work, Badaboom brought her banjo (she makes this creature sound so beautiful) back to the cafe after closing, and we kind of worked on a song. I have never sung in front of another person other than The Dreaded One. I am relaxed with Miss BB and even suggested the concept of a re-interpretation of this song. I was a chilled motherfucker until it came time to actually sing. I sang along to two versions of this song, a song I normally sing along to so well in the shower. But now, my hands shook a little, and I butchered the song. Twice! Go me!

Badaboom Beverley shrugged it off, we sat down and started tooling around with this song. We tried different ways of doing things. I realised singing quietly but in tune is more important than belting the vocals out. I learned I don't have a clue about music. I learned that there are things called chords. I realised that I don't know what do do with a chord or where the best place to put one is.

We also talked about this song. Why does he go faster here? Why is the chorus so upbeat when it's song about sadness? Is it in fact a song about sadness? It was so cool to try to get an understanding of a song, to really get to its heart and then to try to understand what we want out of our interpretation of it and how to go about executing that.

That Portuguese word saudade... I have always felt that about my creative partner... where are you? I have my perfect life partner, but in all my creative endeavours I have been a solitary man, always vaguely missing someone who isn't there. But here we were, two former strangers sitting in an empty cafe, sharing knowledge, playing with and discussing ideas and making notes about a text and a piece of music.

For me, this was a taste of this creative partnership thing, and it was quite beautiful.

Ragnar's Sweet Prayer For Sleep

I changed my name to Ragnar on a certain social network and can't change it back immediately. Consequently, his character is kind of growing on me. Or in me. Or something. Weird sleep disturbances lately (from someone very used to irregular sleep patterns) have resulted in this sweet payer to my favourite Norse God.



Ragnar's Prayer For Sleep.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray to Thor to let me sleep.
If I should sleep before I wake,
Thank fuck for that,
Because two days with fuck-all sleep,
Is enough for me to go to Valhalla
And kick Thor right in the dick.

Love & Peace & Fuzzies

The end of a long weekend and I don't mind admitting I have the emotions. The person who took this photo is quite amazing. Really quite a lovely person. She once said she thought I'd like her partner. That's him there on the left. It's rare that I like guys as friends - my best friends have traditionally been female. And I don't like projections and promises of friendship because it's all such a fickle thing.

The person in the middle of this shot, quite obviously I like her.

I like the other two connected with this picture too. What I really like about the the fortunate life that I've lived is the tenuous connections and unlikely friendships that have occurred. Many years ago Ann decided to change her hair. She went to a place called Furr. Because of that she met Jess, and because of that, all these years later we spent a chunk of the weekend with Jess and her partner Xac. They look like freaks, and I love their creativity. But their personalities... holy shit they are no bullshit people. Much love.

Much love for the people I am working with at the moment too. Thursday was quite big - second biggest day outside of the Christmas break we've had, and I had fun. Badaboom Beverley is great company, a friend Viola is helping us out at the moment... it's all quite beautiful and I feel very lucky.

Throw some theatre into the mix and catching up with other friends and you have a pretty perfect weekend.

I have the emotions, and I don't mind that at all.

Love and Peace.

Velvet, Melbourne 2016, Review

Velvet

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



This is a strange hybrid of cabaret, circus and disco, and it's not too bad. I'm not sure why it's a MICF event because although it has comedic elements, it's not a comedy show. Nor is it completely circus or cabaret, burlesque or Marcia Hines concert... but it is a bit of all of the above.

If you've seen some really good circus recently (Barbarois and Limbo come to mind), you will have seen better circus act than you'll see in Velvet. This is not to say the Velvet circus acts are not good; they really are very good. They just aren't the main feature and so the show doesn't rely on them to be the main thing. The female aerialist is very good; the guy with the six pack who balances on things is very good; the chubby hula hoop guy who will be the crowd's favourite is also very good. These humans like you and me who do things that you and me can't do will never cease to amaze. But the feats you will see in Velvet are not the best you will ever see.

The disco soundtrack might, however, be one of the best you'll ever hear in a show like this. Disco doesn't get any better than tracks like Boogie Wonderland, Le Freak and If You Could Read My Mind. If the disco version of this last track was the greatest misinterpretation of a song ever (has a sadder song ever sounded more uplifting?), Brendan Maclean's interpretation of The Bee Gees' Stayin' Alive nailed the true spirit of the song so much better than the original. For all the fun and sexiness in this show, this version of this song was the highlight for me. Amongst all the glitz and glitter, here was honesty and raw emotion. Goosebump City, baby.

The Marcia Hines nostalgia trip didn't really do it for me, but credit where it's due, this woman is amazing. Timeless beauty, yes, but those vocals haven't aged either. She can belt out a tune bigger and better than the younger back-up singers who were stunning in their own right. Respect. She sang her biggest hits and the audience lapped it up. Many smiles on many faces and much chair dancing was done.

Marcia and the chubby hula hoop guy will be everyone's favourites. Hula hoop guy's joke was obvious as soon as he hit the stage, but his skill made up for the obviousness of what was about to happen. The apparent enjoyment he was getting out of performing was also infectious. Most of the humour throughout the show was of the ugly duck variety; awkward nerdiness or outsiderness giving way to impressive talent.

There seemed to be a narrative, of sorts, best shown in the I Feel Love sequence. It was a softcore bondage sequence ironically about liberation and acceptance, ideals possibly at the heart of the whole disco movement, and we hope still at the heart of the underground dance scene today.

More mainstream than edgy, Velvet is nevertheless a fun night out that will leave its audience feeling happy. I would see it again just for Stayin' Alive.

At the Malthouse Theatre until April17

Velvet, Staying Alive.

Fun show. This for me was the highlight. I love this version of this song.

Feathers & Bats & Friendship

A new friend diddled this (past tense of doodle) during a late night, post-lunch conversation. The feathers represent Vurt. The bats represent Hunter S Thompson. It was a very literary late night lunch.

Feel Love

I'd rather feel love than hate.

It's The Little Things

Just got back from a theatre opening night. Short review: What in the fuck was that all about? Where do I start? I can't start with the free tiny little sandwiches because there were NO free tiny little sandwiches. Can't start with the free tiny little sausage rolls because there were no free tiny little sausage rolls either. And free booze? What free booze? Seriously, WTF? I couldn't believe what I wasn't doing - so much so that I checked my ticket envelope because surely there had to be vouchers for free tiny little sandwiches and tiny little sausage rolls and free booze. Guess what? No vouchers for anything. I checked upstairs in case there was a secret party with tiny little sandwiches and tiny little sausage rolls and free booze and guess what? NO secret party with free tiny little anythings. I even waited for an hour for the commoners to leave because then surely they would trundle out more tiny little sandwiches and tiny little sausage rolls and free booze than you can poke a stick and, but guess what? No late free secret party either! It was a fucking joke! Those fuckers think they're going to get a good review out of me? Ha! HA! They will rue the fucking day...

Never Better Than This

Today in the cafe... a former regular customer reappeared unexpectedly. She used to come in almost every day and buy one of our tuna wraps for lunch. The only time she deviated from this was when she bought two tuna wraps. Before she stopped being a regular she told us that her office had been relocated to Abbotsford - a couple of suburbs away - and so she wouldn't be in anymore... She said goodbye and I think wanted to let us know the reason for her sudden disappearance.

Today she said she could take it any more She really wanted one of our tuna wraps and so jumped into a cab to get to the cafe and back in her lunch break. Apparently they're pretty good, our tuna wraps.

Then a little later, that woman a while ago who didn't exactly endear herself to me by telling me that a smile doesn't cost anything? She's been in a few times since and I always get a laugh out of Badaboom Beverley by snarling at her appearance.

When I delivered her coffee to her, she was reading one of my stories to her husband. She stopped reading and told me that she was really enjoying the one about the time I held the stranger's hand at the festival. She thought it was hilarious. She also loved the one about the time I was on the Amalfi Coast. We had a bit of a chat and a quiet laugh. Was not expecting that.

Later, Ann's helper told me, "That woman up there was reading your stuff as I walked past. She stopped me, put the stories to her chest and said 'I'm loving these stories. I really love them.'"

Before she left, the old lady approached and told us she wanted a photo of "Grumpy and The Dreaded One and you two. I don't want Grumpy to smile for the photo."

Much laughter, from us, many smiles from the full cafe as bemused customers looked on, but Grumpy, The Dreaded One, Badaboom Beverley and Kafka Woman bunched up for the photo. As directed, I didn't smile.

Well done little old lady - you somehow went from being a sour little thing to being a wonderfully quirky individual. Respect.

And as deeply happy as I was, I was a little sad too because I was pretty sure that life in our banged up little cafe was never going to be better than this.

Oscar, Lee & Hunter

"Just had one of those nights where I'm a little bit ashamed of the fact that Hunter S Thompson would be proud of me."
Oscar Wilde (Not Lee. Definitely not Lee.).

I'm A Zen Motherfucker

Sometimes, some things burn slow. Sometimes you don't know immediately what a person is saying, because you don't really know that person.

Today in the cafe... it's towards the end of our day. We wind down from 3.30 to 4pm depending on the customer flow. The kitchen closes around 3.30 but if people come by we do what we can. Take-away food and drinks are on offer right up til the end. The Dreaded One and I start at 6.30 and don't get to sit down or have a break but we're cool with that.We're used to it.

This guy comes in during what I consider my bump-out, clean-up time. Wants some food. I put his toasty on the sandwich press that I've just cleaned, because that's what he wants. This guy is a semi-regular, have never much liked him, not sure why. He's always given of a slight air of self-importance. I've also overheard him having a meeting with a superior about unacceptable workplace behaviour. I have noticed that that he has a small personal space around female customers and likes to make eye-contact and smile... okay in itself if done the right way, but there is something about this guy.

Anyway, while his toasty is being cooked he decides to strike up conversation. Tells me he saw me walking along Johnston Street the other day. Tells me he got it wrong and thought I was the owner of the operation and lived upstairs at the cafe.

I tell him no, I own the business, not the building. I tell him that I walk home most days. I enjoy my walk home. It's such a luxury to walk home, maybe half an hour, 20 minutes if I push it, I really like it.

Long pause, then: "I really don't know how or why so many cafes do this. I guess they must really love it or something."

I'm totally motherfucking Zen for a Monday, so I'm all whatever you cock-sucking wanker. But I can't help noticing a couple of things about this exchange.

Why are you speaking to me in the third person? Why didn't you say, "I don't know how or why you do this?"

I tell him, I can't speak on behalf of 'them', but yes, I love this. Weirdly, for all the hard work it is, I love it. I love not working for someone else. I love getting it right, in our banged up way. I love the very slow additions to the Trip Advisor reviews. I love the first-hand feedback we get each day. I love the team we have right now. I love how much better I have become at choosing the right people for us. I like the perfect complementary yinyang thang The Dreaded One & I have.

I explained that for hospitality, this is a pretty sweet gig. No night shifts. No weekends. And we choose the people who work with us, and it's a pretty cool vibe each day.

He was polite, but I don't think he got it at all. Standing there in his suit, he tells me about his commute... one and a half hours each way every day.

He left and I was still Zen as all motherfucking shit and stuff, but the encounter did make me think.

You Got It! You're Addicted To Music!

This clip makes me so happy. Will post another one from the same movie that makes me even happier.

Hug Etiquette

So Kafka Woman now works in the cafe. Remember her? She is indeed a beautiful woman and a serene soul. A random and fleeting encounter, and now we are in contact on an almost daily basis.

It's all very wonderful, really - except for  The Crisis Of The Hug.

Normally with hugs, I like them and I indulge in them frequently with old friends. Usually you hug a friend when you see them after not seeing them for a long time, and then you hug them again at the end of that meeting, knowing that you might not see them for another long time. Granted, that period of time might only be a week or so, but hey, hugs are cool.

Kafka Woman is not an old friend. There was what some people would call "a connection" on the first day we met. Then she was looking for some work and after a while we had some work for her. At the end of the first day of work, she put her arms up for a hug. We hugged. It was an end of the day, thank you hug.

Next day, Kafka Woman came in and gave me a good morning hug. She gives good hug, btw. Cool, I thought, because it's the second day and this is a second day good morning hug.

The day went well and she is a pleasure to work with. At the end of her shift, we had another hug. Which s great. I love the hug. Especially when the huggee is so beautiful and serene and when the hug is all about appreciating that they need the work and we appreciate the help.

Third day in, more hug action. And this is where I start to wonder... did one of us accidentally initiate a hug policy that the other one is a bit confused about? Are we both thinking that we have to hug the other one because the other one thinks we have to hug? Should I find something else to do at the assumed moment of hug so that they realise we don't actually have to hug? Then again, what if they really do want to hug... what if these hugs are really important to them and me trying to act preoccupied causes offense?

Fourth day in, we hug hello and we hug goodbye. Customers see us hugging. Then I wonder if Badaboom Beverley sees us hugging. Badaboom Beverley and I also hug, but just usually on special occasions. But I torment myself with the thought that BB then starts to think that I am hugsnubbing her. Why doesn't he hug me twice a day, she might ponder Frenchly.

You probably think I'm trying to be funny here, but I'm not. It's all actually quite awkward.

Then again, Kafka Woman hugs The Dreaded One each day too, so maybe I just need to loosen the fuck up.

Legs Eleven At Adelaide Airport

At Adelaide airport the other day, I was buying a pint for myself and a gin & tonic for The Dreaded One.

At a random point during the preparation of the drinks, the barman looks at me and says, "Legs Eleven?"

He may as well have slapped me with a wet fish, because wut? The fuck is legs eleven all about? Have I wandered into a game of bar bingo? Is this some new bar jargony thing that I don't know about? If so, how did I get out of the loop so drastically and so quickly? Even more baffling because bars are basically my second home.

This barman and me, we stare at each other with impressive blankness for an unfeasibly long time. I can think of absolutely nothing to say in response. Is it a joke I'm not getting? If it was a joke surely he'd be showing some sign that it was a joke... raised eyebrow... wry smirk... a nod or a wink... but he's giving me nothing.

Finally, after a long, long, long, long time of nothing, the barman ends this stalemate of stupid by using a pair of little tongs to pick up a wedge of lemon and putting it in The Dreaded One's gin & tonic.

Throw Your Arms Around Me

Last Friday The Dreaded One & I went to Adelaide  for The Adelaide Fringe Festival, or at least two days of it.

Before we left, a couple of our awesome workers did this thing... they threw their arms up in readiness for a goodbye hug. We hugged, and they were were nice hugs, warm hugs, hugs with muscle strength behind them, hugs with emotion behind them. It was really kind of beautiful, given that we are just their employers.

Feeling an overload of love and gratitude.

Off To Adelaide Fringe

Things Lee Is Really Shit At Number... oh I've totally lost count. But packing for two nights away when it's hand luggage only... how the hell do you do that shit? How am I supposed to know on Thursday night what I'll feel like wearing on any of the occasions in the following days? (Yes, it's a weekend of occasions... Like seeing Juliette Burton's Look At Me and Betty Grumble's Grumble:Sex Clown Saves The World. Naturally there will be lunches... der).

I need packing minions.

At least the tickets arrived. Way to send me into a nervous breakdown - tell me after I book the tickets that you'll be sending them interstate IN THE POST? Who does that? In this age of the internet and scanning codes and scanners and insto info, who in the hell puts printed tickets in an envelope and sends them in the post with only days to spare? I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a fucking adrenaline junky. Usually I never check the letter box, but every day this week... FFS. I never want to put myself through that fucking ordeal again.

And now, of course, there's every chance I'll misplace the tickets or leave them behind or something. Fuck me, Adelaide Fringe Festival - this just isn't funny. It's mean. You bastards.

Right. Back to this "packing" ordeal.

BeverleyLee & The Badaboombooms

I think I am going to sing this song with my friend Beverley. I think it is going to be a little bit wonderful.

The Ideas Man

Me: I've just had this great idea. If we just do this it will cut out all the bad things and good things will happen.

Her: That is actually a great idea.

Me (Jokingly, self-deprecatingly): It's a great idea that will never come to fruition because I thought of it.

Her: Hahahaha... that's so funny because it's true.

Eight hours later - do you think I can remember... do you think I have an inkling of a clue what that great idea was?

The Sweariness Of Cutlery

Today in the cafe... Badaboom Beverley asks one of the customers if they would like a fork and knife with their takeaway meal. But with her French accent...

"Do you know what it sounded like you just said?" I murmur to her, our backs now to the bank of customers.

"No. Wut?" This wut, it's always short and emphatic, like she really wants to know wut.

"It sounded like you said 'Do you want a fuckin' knife'."

BB looks momentarily mortified. "Really? Is zat what you 'erd?"
I nod slowly. "It's what everyone heard. Beverley... you really shouldn't speak to our customers like that."

Fit of stifled giggles from us both. We turn around and the bank of customers is looking at us with suppressed smirks or open smiles, even though none of them really know what we are laughing about.

Top 10 Breakfast Destinations in Fitzroy

This was a nice way to end my least favourite day of the week. We made someone's Top 10 list. I know these things are subjective, but there are a LOT of good cafes in Fitzroy, and a lot of them are on this list. That we are on that list as well... this is a very nice thing indeed. Especially because we don't know this reviewer and have not chased publicity or done any advertising. We've just gone about the business of making the best food we can, the best coffee we can, and getting it all to the tables as best we can.

Normally I don't like Mondays, but this one is pretty cool.

Milestones In Hospo

Today in the cafe... This happened. Bride and Groom were having a photo shoot in Deadman's Lane, then decided to continue the shoot inside whilst having coffee. They wanted the word awesome to be in the shot.

Significant day. The cafe has been more of a struggle than we've probably been letting on. We've just been slugging away. Over the Christmas/New Year period we do quite well because all the other cafes along our stretch close and we stay open. It's hard work but rewarding, if slightly disappointing knowing that it's only because we're the only option. When all the other cafes re-open, most people go back to their preferred cafe. Figures drop off a little but we seem to get a few new regulars.

Today, after a busy week, we achieved one of those Christmas/New Years period days. A special day because everywhere else along our stretch was open, and still so many people chose to come to us.

After today, I'm starting to think we might be okay. Great effort from our small team. Feeling happy and grateful.

And feeling like a Big Daddy Vodka or two.

The Good Teachers

Do you ever think about your teachers? The ones you had in school? Do you ever remember the important ones?

I had this music teacher called Miss Buttsworth (No, no joke, that was her name). She was beautiful and kind and she knew what a reclusive child I was. She always chose me to read stuff, and unexpectedly what I read or the way I read it got a laugh. She chose me to play instruments I couldn't play. She smiled at me in a way made this reclusive child think everything would be okay.

And she glared at me one day through a tiny window in a door separating me and my renegade mates from the classroom and the music storage room while we went crazy on the smorgasbord of instruments.

But it was okay. There was something in her eyes that said it's okay.

I wish I had the chance to tell her how much old Lee appreciated our life encounter. That would have been nice.

Feelin' Blue

I need to pay more attention...

"Can I colour your hair? I'll make it subtle."

"Sure babe, whatever you want."

"So can I also paint your toenails fire engine red?"

"What's that? Yeah no sure, I'm sure that'll be fine."

Sad Short Story V Lamborghini

Today in the cafe... when it comes to closing time, I now realise that I am locked in a battle of strategy between myself and some higher entity. There are some things I can't do until there are no customers, some things I can only do when there are some customers, and some things I can't do when some of them choose to sit in certain places. I am basically playing a really weird game of chess with The Cosmos. It can be a very frustrating game of chess.

It used to be that I was hopeless at telling old people we are closed or closing. I caved to them all the time. Then it was St Vinnies nurses and doctors. One guy used to always turn up at 3:50pm, 10 minutes before closing. Used to shit me until I realised that he was a nurse starting his night shift and just wanted a coffee and a sugar hit before beginning a night's work totally alien to me. Having once been saved by such people, least I can do etc.

Today I realised my List Of People Lee Can't Turn Away Even Though He Is Closing The Cafe And Wants To Go Home includes Very Very Very Pregnant Women, Odd People Who Just Want To Read Their Book For A Bit, and Travellers With Beads And Stuff Who Just Want A Pot Of Herbal Tea.

Just when I think I have a break, Higher Entity deploys one of the above and my plans are fucked.

This last one, the traveller with the beads. By the time she came in I had given up. I had lost my weird chess game. People were just wandering in and sitting down willy nilly and I just thought fuck it, whatever, you all just make yourself at home because whatever. When you give in to the fact that you have lost the thing, it's easy. And anyway, I was still winning - customers in the cafe is a good thing.

But this traveller with the beads. She started reading my stuff, some of my funny stuff. She approached me at the counter to ask for the wifi password, then laughed as she told me she liked my writing because it was so lovely. Another connection through the writing. I gave her the password. She went back and sat down and continued to read, her attention shared between her phone and my writing at the back of the menus.

Soon I could see that she was totally engrossed in the writing. She was frowning, not laughing. She was reading what was turning out to be my literary chick-magnet - Remembering Argos.

All the nurses and the doctors and the odd people who just wanted to read their book and all the really really really pregnant women left. But I wanted to let Travelling Beadwoman finish the story, so I found other things to do. And when I had finished everything there was to finish, I told her, You are welcome to stay because after I close the doors I'll still be here for a while, but I do have to bring the outdoor furniture in now.

She smiled and said, Thank you, and went back to reading.

And later, when at last she had finished this story that I wrote so long ago, Beadwoman came over to tell me, That story, the one with the man and the woman and the dog... so beautiful it brought me to tears, please, keep writing. And she left.

I don't know what it is about that sad short story, but it's the best shiny sports car I've ever owned.

Nothing Worth Writing About Happened Today. Nothing.

Today in the cafe... there were no poignant human interactions and not a single funny thing happened. It was basically just an infuriating day of totally normal and nice. People smiled and enjoyed their food and coffee, and there was pleasant small-talk with the regulars and all of our co-workers got a long really well... days like these, they shit me to tears. Come on Universe - give me some Goddamn material!

Juliette Burton's Look At Me, Adelaide Fringe 2016

Juliette Burton – Look At Me

By Lee Bemrose

Arts festivals anywhere in the world are competitive beasts. It can be tough to get a gig and even tougher to get an audience, let alone rave reviews. To achieve a sold-out season and a chorus of rave reviews at the big daddy of all festivals – The Edinburgh Fringe – you have to be doing something right. One person who has just done all of the above is UK actor, writer and performer Juliette Burton with her latest show Look At Me. Other capitals like Sydney and Melbourne are missing out big time, but heads up Adelaide – Juliette is returning for another appearance at The Adelaide Fringe. If you like world class comedy with a big heart, read on.


So, Juliette, how has life been treating you lately?Life has been treating me like a pet; sometimes it gives me juicy bones, takes me for walks and my little tail is wagging, and other times life leaves me at home scratching on the door howling and making a mess of the cushions. Ups and downs but mainly juicy bones of ups!

How happy were you with how the show was received at the Edinburgh Fringe?Ecstatic! That's an underused word isn't it: "ecstatic"? Great word. Anyway, Look At Me premiered at Edinburgh Fringe 2014, getting 5 star reviews in national press, having sold out shows and at Edinburgh 2015 it had a total sold out run - every ticket that could be sold was. It was incredible. A big juicy bone two years in a row.

What's it like performing at that particular festival compared to others you've appeared at? 
Performing at different festivals is like gathering a collection of friends all from the same family; you have Edinburgh Fringe which is the biggest arts festival in the world and why I even began in this career. It's the BOSS of all festivals, so boss I actually moved to the city because I loved it so much. Edinburgh's my best mate, in a way; that mate who challenges you and helps you realise the best of yourself. Brighton Fringe is like Edinburgh's kid sister; fun, arty, lovely but much smaller. Melbourne International Comedy Festival was like the cool hipster cousin who I loved being around and fancied a little bit. And then there's Adelaide who's the second largest arts festival in the world - the festival who's chilled, laid back and SO much fun! Adelaide just wants to have a good time and I'm ready to be a part of that again!

Have the audiences at the different festivals been noticeably different in any ways?People the world over can be amazing. I think it's one of my favourite things, realising that an audience in one part of the world can be just as fun, vocal and up for it as an audience in a totally different part of the world - similar characters pop up in different corners of a country or the globe. I’ve made good friends in Edinburgh who are so similar to those in York. I’ve made good friends in Adelaide who were so similar to those in London. And friends in Melbourne who remind me of those in Cambridge. We’re all connected, we’re all the same really, if you focus on the similarities and not the differences.

Tell us a little about Look At Me. What's it all about? How did it come about?

I first had the idea back in 2007 – what would happen if I swapped my body for other bodies, having been the same girl in so many different bodies naturally. I’ve been a size 4 (US size 0) due to anorexia, a size 20 (US size 16) due to compulsive overeating disorder, I’ve been a “healthy” size but ill with bulimia and I’ve been a “normal” size and struggled with hidden illnesses like depression and anxiety. It got me thinking – is what we appear to be who we really are? I started chatting with friends about the idea and everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, I spoke to had a story about how they relate to their bodies and the outside world. And judgement too. So when the Arts Council in the UK gave me some money to change my looks in lots of dramatic ways I leapt at the chance to become, for a day, a 90 year old lady, a man, I wore the hijab, dressed “provocatively” and revisited my obese self – to find out how much appearances affect who we are on the inside. 
  
What were those experiences like? Any surprises there? 
A LOT of surprises! I don’t want to give away any spoilers but being a man unleashed some hidden sides of myself! Let’s just say perhaps confidence verged into arrogance… Revisiting my obese body surprised quite a few of my friends in fact…one of my friends didn’t even recognise me and other friends who have seen the show fancied me MORE in that disguise… And I wanted to reclaim my experience of that body on that day. And being a 90 year old lady revealed some truths; I felt rather liberated in some ways! To see just how liberated you will need to join me at the show!

The subject matter is, when you get down to it, pretty serious stuff. How difficult was it to work it into comedy?
 Not terribly difficult. Some of the experiences I went through were so bizarre that the only way to communicate them to audiences is with honesty and laughter. Looks will change all the time and youth will fade, it’s life’s great joke that we assign any real “value” in our appearances and yet we do and we’re encouraged to do so. Reflecting that judgement call through the show reveals the comedy in ourselves and also in the absurdity of my own experiences. We all have a day when someone judges us on appearance and the best we can do is laugh about it.

Some of the people you interview are dealing with some serious issues... how did they react when they found out your show was a comedy?
For the show I didn’t want it to be just my voice, so I interviewed a lot of people, which I do for all my shows, to make sure the questions I’m asking are universal as well as personal. For Look At Me I interviewed 80 year old men and women, physically disabled friends, thalidomide men, facially disfigured dudes, professional models, fellow weirdo performers, transgender people about how they relate to their bodies and how others relate to them.

When I told these people I was interviewing my show was a comedy, I told them well before I interviewed them, and they all unanimously loved the idea! I think we’ve all thought how ridiculous it is to judge on appearances; and as one of my interviewees said “Other people’s ignorance is not and never will be my problem. And if other people think that because of the way I look I can’t do certain things, well, watch me!”

Watch us! We are so much more than others and even we ourselves might think we are.
 
We know how the critics and audiences have responded to the show; what have been the responses of the interviewees? 
The interviewees have their own mailing list who I email first to let them know of future shows. I believe almost every interviewee featured in the show has now seen the show…bar one. And that one lives in Australia. So I hope they can come along!

All the interviewees who have seen it have loved it; it’s their show as well as mine in many ways. It’s everyone’s show who sees it and takes something from it. An audience affects a show far more than we realise. 

What are a couple of highlights for you in the interviews?
 Other than the incredible Adam Pearson, who I met thanks to the interviews for this show and I now count as one of my best friends… we once got so drunk that he ate a whole sharing sundae by himself. And we’ve shared some pretty dirty Cards Against Humanity games… other than him, there’s Geoff Adams-Spink who I met during my time working at the BBC, a wise, funny, irreverent man affected by the thalidomide drug. And there's Simon Minty who runs Abnormally Funny People. He says his condition (he’s 3 ft 11) is one thing but his disability is how people react to him. There’s also John Lyons, an 80-something year old poet, artist and author who says he thinks about life, not age – with ALL my interviewees I watch their interviews with the audience in the show and every single time I’m struck by the collective wisdom of my friends! It’s a treat to watch these pearls of wisdom back to remind me to listen to them and adopt their experience myself!  

Don't tell anyone this, but when I saw your wonderful show When I Grow Up at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival in 2014, I almost cried. It was heart-breaking to see what you had gone through, but ultimately one of the most uplifting (and funny) shows I had ever seen. How do your shows affect you during the performances? 
Wow. Thank you. That’s a wonderful thing to share and say aloud. Well, not aloud. This is written text. But you know, I heard it in my head so we’re totally connected like that. Anyway, what was the question? How do the shows affect me during the performance. Honestly, every single performance I get emotionally vulnerable and raw. But I count that as a victory because if I get to a point where I can be so honest and vulnerable with an audience then we must be really connecting, not as performer to audience but as human to human. I’m often asked how I perform if I’m struggling with my mental health problems and I always say because I know that as awful as I might feel before the show, I will feel amazing on the other side, because I’ve connected with a whole room of people who are with me on that journey… we’re in it together. 

 
How do you feel about humanity generally? Are we getting any better at being human or are we still a bit shit?
What a question! I don’t pretend to know the answer to that. I have to, for sanity’s sake, believe in the good in humanity. For every awful act that happens or hits us personally or hits the headlines there are so many people out there who will choose the path of kindness. There have been some shitty things happen in the world in the past couple of years since I last came to Australia and each time I have an increasingly greyer view of the world… and then a greater, stronger, brighter revision of that – when I see the power of loveliness rush through in the wake of shittiness.

A news story I was involved in in May 2015 is one of those weird news stories, It affected many and affected me personally. I relapsed badly because of it. But then the rush of humanity overwhelmed me. And it was immense. I talk about it in the show; we’re never really alone. It just takes bravery to be honest about how we’re really doing. Once I got on stage and started making jokes about the situation, hearing people laugh about what I’d been through I immediately knew it was going to be ok.
 
You are coming all the way to Australia but not taking the show to Melbourne or Sydney. This is a bummer for Melbourne and Sydney – any chance this could change?
 I would LOVE to return to Melbourne one day and visit Sydney for the first time… Let’s all keep our fingers crossed, and perhaps if this Adelaide fringe goes well I can venture a bit further in the future!

Cafe Stories - Plastic Bottles For The Psyche Ward

Today in the cafe... I'm bringing the outdoor furniture inside as I close up. A woman looks inside, sees that we are closed and starts to walk on just as I say hello. She stops walking and asks if we are closed. Yes, I say, but what were you after? Do you have something that I could take away? Some food? I tell her I can do a ham and cheese croissant or something, and she says yes, that would be good. She comes inside the cafe with most of the outside furniture packed in parts upside down.

Ovens get switched back on. She takes a Coke from the fridge and asks if we have plastic bottles "because this is for a psyche ward."

All flavours we have are in glass except for the vanilla Coke in plastic, so she settles for the plastic.

She is quiet and well spoken and has a quietly, strong calm about her. I make my assumptions and ask her, Is that where you work? In the psyche ward?

No, she tells me, I'm visiting someone there.

Ah.

Yes. It's my son.

Oh.

And then she tells me about his troubles. It's been a long battle. He's 33 years old now but the troubles started when he was 18 or 19... earlier than that when you consider his other habits and addictions, the compulsive collections of things before chemicals were part of his world. And then the chemicals replaced the objects and since then he's been in prison and he's been homeless and just recently he vanished from her world only for St Vincents to get in touch with her to tell her that her son was with them. Not well, but alive.

She tells me that her siblings are supportive, and she tells me that as hard as it is for her, it's harder for him. Her level of selflessness is impressive. We talk about the homeless and fortune and this guy she knows who lives in a tent in the sand dunes near where she lives and how he has some sort of community support, and how she thinks of him as houseless rather than homeless.

I tell her about a dear friend of mine who beat ice. She disappeared from my life for a year, kicked that arsehole habit, turned her life around big time. She tells me that my friend is lucky. Yes, I think, my friend is lucky that she is so strong.

I hand the now toasted ham and cheese croissant to her, and she turns to leave with her plastic Coke bottle, back to her son in the psyche ward.

Thanks for staying open for me, she tells me, and thanks for the chat.

On Disengaging

When I told you that I disengaged, it meant I disengaged. In the end you proved yourself to be superficial and a drama queen who wanted things to happen that were never going to happen. You wanted me to be jealous of your new lover without ever understanding that this was never going to happen. I was prepared to be your loyal friend, that's all, so your expectant jealousy baffled me. Consequently, you lost the most loyal friend you never quite had.

There is no turning back with these things.

When I told you I disengaged, I meant it: I disengaged.

A Cool Little Love Thing

When it's late at night
And it's late in life,
And you still want to be
In each others arms,
You probably have
A cool little love thing
A cool little love thing
A cool little love thing going on.

Meow Meow's Little Mermaid, Malthouse Theatre, 2016

My review of Meow Meow's Little Mermaid at Malthouse Theatre.Photo by Andrew Gough.

And Then They Were Gone

Today in our banged up little cafe... a family walks in. Light's kind of funny from my end and light sometimes plays with my eyes. I notice that the guy has dreadlocks or the beginnings of them. Dreadlocks in the cafe always make me feel happy. I know dreadlocks are not a guarantee of integrity, but in my circle I've been lucky, and dreads = good.

I said hello to the guy, probably kind of blankly because it was nearing the end of the day. He said hello back, equally as blankly. I looked past him and recognised his beautiful wife. Looked back at him and recognised his rough head too, now smiling.

It was our friends The Hepworths. Haven't seen them in years. And now they are here in our banged up little cafe.

Hugs. Of course there are hugs.

We talk as much as we can. We've always been in touch online, but seeing them in real life is a different experience. Voices. Seeing the changes in their faces. Their boys now, so much bigger - quite cool young human beings, the result of good parenting. Expected nothing less.

We talk as much as we can, which is not very much because we are working and even when the cafe is quiet at the end of a busy day, there is stuff to be done.

Seeing these people, these friends we met in the doof scene, I wish we could have them over to ours for a meal. A dinner would be nice. But you need to plan these things. And we are all so busy and everything is so transient and we are all so far away.

And there were hugs and a photo and goodbyes.

And then they were gone.

I Would I do, In Sagrada Familia

Conversation just went a little like this... I still never want to get married. I still never want to get married either. But if I did want to get married, and if it was to you, I'd want to get married on Santorini. Santorini? Pfft. If I'm getting married - not that I'm ever getting married but if I am - I'm getting married in Sagrada Familia. Do they let you do that? I don't fucking care. We'll just go to some secret part of this most beautiful building in the whole world with our secret group of friends, and we'll do a secret ceremony of matrimony in whispers and giggles, and in the ever-changing light of this wonderful cathedral of creativity, and with Gaudi resting in his crypt just over there, this will be the most perfect moment in my life.

Tell Them

Tell them
That you like their eyes,
Tell them
That you like their ideas,
Tell them
That you like their style,
Tell them
That their laugh is like music,
Tell them
That you can't wait to see them again,
Tell them
That old joke, it never gets old,
Tell them
That they are your favourite memory,
Tell them you are sorry
And tell them
They are forgiven.
Tell them you love them,
And tell them why you love them,
Tell them these things now,
While you still have the chance
To tell them.

Ripples

Me now. Cleanly shaved. Tired and quietly broken. But shh... don't tell anyone.

The humans lately have been wonderful. I am one lucky mofo. Thanks is given to whatever gave all of this to me. I wish the peace and good fortune I have been blessed with could just ripple out there throughout the world, and stop the hate and the violence and the ignorance. Sending out ripples of love and gratitude.

Grumpy's Facehack Fail

Facehack Fail

Goddamn my computer ineptitude. The Dreaded One left her laptop for a while and I wanted to do that stupid thing where you get on someone else's Facebook page and say nice things about yourself, like "I really like that Grumpy has shaved off his facial hair. It has taken years off his age. My God - who knew what a sexy beast was lurking under that facial hair all these years? He's kind of Thor-like... all youthful and strong and athletic but with way better dance moves than Thor would have."

I was cooking dinner and washing the dishes as I went when The Dreaded One left the computer game she had been playing to have a shower, and that's when I came up with my devious plan. I sat down at her laptop and stared blankly at the screen. I don't play computer games, not even these puzzle-solving ones The Dreaded One is so fond of, and as tranquil and mysterious as it looked, it was just totally unfamiliar to me. (Also, did you notice how I mentioned back there that I was cooking and washing up at the same time? This was not simply injected just to make you the reader think oh my God – he's Thor-like AND cooks and washes up, in case you were wondering. It's just what was going on at the time. I was just setting the domestic scene, that's all. Honestly.).

All I had to do was collapse the game and open Facebook, which was probably on in the background anyway. Oh God, this was going to be so funny. Why hadn't anyone ever thought of this before? It's comical genius.

The game seemed to be in resting mode, but things in the scenery were kind of pulsing, waiting. I moved the cursor around a bit. I'm not sure what I thought was going to happen when I did that, but nothing happened. I couldn't see the minimise icon that was usually in the top right corner. I moved the cursor around a bit more and a menu box appeared. I right clicked.

I expected a drop-box of options to appear. What happened was, I launched some kind of massive fireball that whizzed off into the distance and destroyed a part of the scenery.

I stared in silence for a very, very, very, very, very, very long time. I stroked the part of my chin that until very recently had hair on it. Then I had a conversation with myself...

Erm... what just happened? Like, what did you just do? Because it looked a LOT like you just fired a great big fireball at something and totally destroyed it. Why did you do that? I didn't meant to launch a big fireball – that was actually a bit astonishing. Last thing I expected to happen, actually. Fucking hell. What was that thing you just destroyed?
Fucked if I know what it was. What if it was something really important that wasn't meant to be destroyed? What if... what if it was something crucially important for The Dreaded One to advance to the next level? Maybe she won't notice that the thing isn't there any more. But then again, what if she finishes her shower, then sits back down to the game and says “Hey – where's that crucially important thing that I need to get to the next level? I'm sure it was there when I went to have a shower.” What if she's taken days or even weeks to get to this point and she was savouring the moment... maybe she planned to have a shower, pour a glass of wine, settle in and triumphantly win the game? What the fuck have you done? In the name of a stupid little joke. More importantly, what are you going to do about it? Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Maybe if I left click it will reverse... DON'T CLICK ANYTHING! Okay okay, take it easy, calm down. What to do? What would Thor do in a situation like this? Thor wouldn't get himself into a situation like this. Thor wouldn't sneak over to his girlfriend's computer to get on her Facebook page and pretend that she thinks Thor looks as sexy as Grumpy but with better dance moves – you think he's some kind of idiot? Of course not. And agreed, Thor totally wouldn't do something like that, I'm just saying if he did accidentally launch a great big fireball thing and destroy a thing that is potentially crucial to his girlfriend moving up to the next level of the game, what do you think he would do about it? I dunno – use his hammer to destroy the evidence? You think I should smash the computer? Maybe something more subtle, like “accidentally” spill wine all over it, then she'll never suspect anything. That's a brilliant idea... no it's actually a little bit less than brilliant, isn't it. Oh God she's just turned the shower off. She's going to be back any minute now. Okay – stop running around in circles because that doesn't help. Let's just act natural and we'll see what happens. She's coming up the stairs. When she gets here, give her a glass of wine and strike up a conversation about, say, Donald Trump and the woeful state of American politics. Or better still, tell her that upon reflection, Tony Abbott really was the best Prime Minister Australia ever had. Just start an argument about something. Anything. Just make her so outrageously angry that she won't be in the mood for finding the crucial thing she needs to get to the next level of the game, and whatever you do, never let her know what you did or that we had this conversation, deal? Deal.

Vale David Bowie

This is not necessarily the best Bowie song ever. My God, he created so much awesome music. But I had just been doing an eighties retrospective as part of a Facebook thing and this song popped up in my head. It is a classic. It was the last in my selection of great eighties songs in eight days, and I posted the a-cappella version as well, and a day later David Bowie was dead.

And it is actually a great song. Hadn't heard it in years. Played and replayed it many times over on Sunday night. Can't believe both singers are dead now.

I've never been as sad about an artist dying as I am about David Bowie. Gaudi, maybe. Dora Maar. When I heard the news today, oh boy. He was always there. He was ever changing. He showed us that it was okay to do your own thing. He showed us how to push boundaries. He was 100% original.

This collaboration with Freddy is pretty perfect.

I would have enjoyed hanging out with both of these guys. Always kind of felt that it might happen with David Bowie. Alas...

Thanks for the music guys.

A Smile Doesn't Cost Anything

"Today in the cafe... It's busy. Really fucking busy. All is going well but you kind of have to focus on not fucking up. There is food prep and delivery and coffee and delivery and teamwork under duress and shit goes wrong and there are fuckwit customers like zombies with their phones when what is wrong with the real world? Gaze out a window sometimes. Look at the world going on around you. Make eye-contact or heaven forbid, conversation. Do you even remember how wonderful the clouds are since since your phone hijacked your mind? No, don't bother - put your head back into that fucking phone because all the wisdom of the world is in that phone, you dulloid, as I call out your takeaway order again, and again, and again.
And then I get this customer. I have taken their drinks to them, and I ask who has the skinny cap and who has the pot of Earl Grey? And they both stare at me for long seconds, blankly. This happens so often.

So who has the skinny cap?
Second round of blank stare.

Then finally, Oh I am the skinny cap. Thank you.

Later, Earl Grey Granny comes over to pay her bill. There is a silly gaff on my part, and I laugh it off.
"You know - that's the first time I've seen you smile."
"Yes, I get that quite often."
She leans in to share a secret. "It doesn't cost anything, you know," she whispers, like she's shared some great fucking wisdom.

It doesn't cost anything.

Like this pearl of enlightenment is going to help me through the rest of my life. Like she knows why I am not smiling at that moment in my life. Like she has a fucking clue about what is going on in my life. Like the fact that "It doesn't cost anything" means a person hasn't been born with severe facial features and for whom smiling doesn't come naturally. I'm really sorry I have an ugly, frowny head that displeases you so much... but please understand that the frowniness is just a result of me trying to do things to please other people. There is quite a lot going on besides your pot of Earl Grey.

I should have told her that my smiles are to be earned. I'm not a smiling idiot. And nothing in my exchange with you and your idiot cliches has given me reason to smile"

I posted this on Facebook and basically everyone who knows me has been supportive. My friends know I am not as severe as I appear to be. My friends know that I care.

The comment that has affected me most is this one, from my beautiful friend Annye (immediately to my right in the photo, and on her right my beautiful friend Nadia, and on her right my beautiful friend Ann, and in the foreground my friend Danny, us in Arles in Southern France circa 2010... or was it 2012?): 

"Funny, but the one person I shared one, if not THE best ever laugh with was YOU.... talking hedgehogs and tiny little street sweepers!"

I remember this moment so clearly, this laughter we both shared about hedgehogs and tiny street sweepers. Truly one of the best laughs I've had in my life.

So nice to be reminded that you - accused non-smiler -  share a beautiful memory of hysterical silliness with someone, even if it does make you wish they were not so far away.

Miss you, Annye.

Small And Unexpected Gifts To Strangers

In the cafe today... lady comes in with a head-damaged friend she is taking to the hospital for an MRI scan. He goes into the bathroom and is there for quite a long time. (Later, both The Dreaded One and I notice that someone has unwrapped several toilet paper rolls and put them on the handle of the toilet brush, probably because they think this is the way things should be. We think we know who it was).

But back outside in the cafe, this customer starts reading my writing in the back of the menu while she drinks her coffee. I am satisfied with the smile my words bring to her solitude. Eventually she looks up and asks me whose writing entries these are. I tell her they are mine. She tells me how much she is enjoying reading them. Tells me she is here with her brain damaged friend and that they just needed a walk and she needed a coffee, and that she likes the way I structure the writing. She comes across as a former English teacher or something, or maybe just a lifelong reader, someone who appreciates the rhythm and flow of a story.

And she thanks me for making this chance encounter such a delightful experience.

Small and unexpected gift to a stranger with troubles I can't comprehend... highlight of the day.

Love Shadow

Shadow and light, early morning in the cafe as the sun came up. Peaceful start to a crazy day.

When Strangers Become Friends

This person walked into the cafe one day, dropped off her resume. She has turned into the dream co-worker. Delightful small-talk. Much casually intelligent discussion of movies and music. There is no drama. There is frequent laughter. There is much of the adore. I enjoy her company and am grateful for the random serendipity of our paths crossing.

The Vibe... sometimes it gets it right.

Boris

My Christmas present 2015. I love it.

Almost as much as I love her Christmas card message to me, which was "Love you always, you still are my best friend after all these years."

Mine to her was "True love morphs, never dies. I love you."

Nick Cave At Grumpy & The Dreaded One's Little Cafe Of Awesome

In my banged up little cafe... this is Nick Cave. He has written some of the most hauntingly brilliant love songs I've ever heard. I'm quite the fan. His writing and his music can be exquisite and it can be raw and exhilarating.

I watched a few passersby stop and say things to him. I saw a fellow customer get up from her table to say something to him.

But I chose to leave him alone, as much as I'd like to have had a conversation with him. He's a human. He's probably back in Australia at Christmas to be with family, and he's lost a son quite recently. He looked like he just wanted some quiet time.

And that's how I blew my chance to say I spoke to Nick Cave.

When Was That Moment?

The saddest question
That he never asked her was
When did you stop loving me?
What was that thing that I said?
That thing that I did?
What was that mistake that I made?

Because I never stopped loving you.

Even though I knew that at last
Our love was broken.

We are memory now,
But what was that thing that I said?
That thing that I did?
That mistake that I made?
When was that moment

That you stopped loving me?

The Raging And The Healing In The Little Cafe Of Awesome

In my banged up little cafe
I see the regulars
And the not so regulars,
I see the the broken ones
Who need a favour or a smile,
Or someone who remembers their name.

I see some of them in suits
When I loathe suits
But I overhear them doing good things
Genuinely helping others in their corporate way

I've seen garbed doctors
Give kindly to the raging wanderers,
raging at the world,
And I've seen healer and patient move on
And get on.
Raging.
Healing.

I've seen broken, good hearted people
Become well - life at its best,
And I've seen good people
Been given the unfair deal
By a god who wants to rage
Far more than he wants to heal.

Selfie At The Wilde

It's a selfie, Jim, but not as we know it.