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

Kafka Woman has become a reasonably important feature of my life at the moment. We work together every day now. She is great to work with. When she first came into my life I thought it was a one-off encounter. Both times she came to the cafe after that, I thought they were the last times I would see her. You might remember that I spoke of her peace and serenity.

I liked her instantly, even though I didn't know her. I didn't know then that I would be working with her.

What I really, really didn't know - probably not until quite some time into working with her - was how much of our time would be spent laughing. I tend to say that I am not a laugher. I'm going to have to stop saying that, because when I am with Kafka Woman (Loredana), I am quite the laugher. And it's a wonderful thing. Proper, uncontrollable laughter. The stuff that kids enjoy. The sound of their laugh is making you worse. Just don't look at them - not even in your peripheral vision - and you might just get this fit of laughter under control.

We talk about a lot of life stuff. We're like friends. Something on your mind? Want to talk about it? Or we just talk about what we got up to on the weekend or the night before. We talk about music and writing and great books we've read. The conversation is pretty well rounded. Whimsy features frequently.

We get interrupted a lot... A LOT... by customers. Kafka Woman suggested that we might need a sign to tell customers that they cannot enter because we are talking. The above sign came to me and I wrote it up intending to just show her for a laugh. We laughed. Then I put it up on the door. The reactions from the customers was a source of laughter for the rest of the day. That day (yesterday), I have never spent so much time on any job laughing.

She has a joyous, infectious laugh, does Kafka Woman. And that's the thing with laughter - it really is infectious. At one point both of us were useless with laughter. I was struggling to make one of the regulars their coffee. I kept trying to compose myself, but I'd hear Kafka Woman sqeak with repressed laughter, and I was fucked all over again.

I wiped a tear from my eye as I turned to give the customer her coffee and told her, "Man that was hard work." When I looked at her, she was chuckling. She had no idea what we were laughing about, but she was laughing. She thanked me and turned to leave, and she was still giggling to herself as she left the cafe.

I am still feeling residual happiness today. I've always known that laughter is good. It's why I like to write funny stuff. To actually indulge in it a lot though... man, it's better than drugs.

The Ship Of Perfect Things

He had a dream
That he wasn't sure was a dream,
And in this possible dream
He saw a sunset,
The perfect sunset.

He saw a horizon,
And he saw some kind of boat,
A ship of perfect things,
It carried all of his memories
And all of his friends
And all of the places he had ever lived
And all of the places that he had ever seen.

And he watched this perfect collection
Of his favourite things
And his favourite people,
His favourite dreams and memories,
Drift away from him.

And it was beautiful
And perfect,
Because as unlikely as it was,
All of it had all happened.

Love Is Enough

And in the end
In the cosmic jangle
He realised that he knew love,
Realised he had always known love.
He loved her,
He loved them all,
And that  love,
That love was enough.

In The Cafe Today... Skateboard Girl

The skateboard is a low rumble roar along Gertrude Street as it approaches Deadman's Lane. I see her through the cafe's side window. She is a one second blur of cool. She's got long jet-black hair that trails in the wind, a long lacy skirt that does the same, dark patterned leggings beneath. She rumble-roars past the door, stops and kicks the back of her board, tips and catches. She does this just as I go through the door with a soy flat white for one of our regulars.

Heading back to the door, Skateboard Girl stops me and asks me if I am the manager. She asks me this in the accent of my favourite city.

Yes, I tell her, I am the manager.

I am looking for a job, she tells me, I am here from Barcelona and I am looking for a job.

I tell her we have nothing immediately. Kafka Woman has changed her plans and apparently I will be enjoying her company for a few more months. I can't express how grateful I am for this. I tell Skateboard Girl that I won't have anything for at least a couple of months. I tell her that Barcelona is my favourite city, and we chat briefly.

It was a cool little indie movie moment. It all happened in black and white, shot and directed by Jim Jarmusch.

In Time, You And I Will Shine

Such a beautifully perfect love song. Absolute perfection.

Nanny Baird And His Nanny Burgers, Because His Nanny Lockout Laws Just Aren't Nanny Enough

After reading about the latest Nanny Baird government's exercise in over-regulation (ie: Nope To Medium Rare Hamburgers Due To Misinformation From Overseas Statistics), The Dreaded One and I had a bit of a discussion on the topic of this and the qualifications and experience of council inspectors. I imagined the next-door neighbours over-hearing our discussion and having a discussion of their own:

Bill: Ooh it sounds like Grumpy and The Dreaded One are having a pretty heavy domestic.

Murray: It certainly does. They are really shouting at each other.

Bill: And swearing! Fuck me what a pair of sweary motherfuckers. Really no need for that.

Murray: What's really weird is the argument seems to be about... hamburgers? Are they really arguing about the acceptable serving of hamburger patties?

Bill: Why yes, I do believe you are right, Murray.

Murray: And you know what's really weird, Bill?

Bill: No - what is really weird, Murray?

Murray: If you really listen... through all that shouting and screaming and swearing and things being hurled around the apartment in what is clearly uncontrollable rage... I think they are actually agreeing with each other.

Bill: Fuck me. Now that you mention it, Murray - I do believe you are right. They are actually just enjoying a kind of... orgy of anger at the abject stupidity of The Nanny Baird Government and over-regulation and the incompetence of clip-board muppets who are actually clueless as to how things really are. Those fucktard muppet health inspectors who drop into the kitchen dressed like they are going to an opera opening night instead of wearing regulation non-slip OH&S boots, overalls and high-vis vests... your eyes have kind of glazed over, Murray...

Murray: It was when you said orgy of anger... do you think we could, you know... have our own orgy of anger?

Bill: I don't see why not. Grumpy & The Dreaded One seem to have calmed down now. What do you want to get angry and shouty and orgy-ie about?

Murray: I don't know... how do you feel about Maitreya?

It's Fruity... And it's Fun

In a new favourite restaurant on Brunswick Street recently... waiter asks us how the rousanne is. We tell him it's lovely. He nods and earnestly surveys Brunswick Street like it's a battlefield, and like he's Russell Crowe playing Maximus in Gladiator. But instead of saying, "At my signal, unleash hell," (but in the same ominous tones), he says, "Yes... it's fruity, and it's fun."

Love

When I die, I choose to remember us like this. She is beautiful now later in life, but my God, look at her in this photo. Stunning. My favourite human.

Falling

I've written three novel manuscripts, met with major publishers about all three, but all came to naught. This was a long time ago. I destroyed all three manuscripts. Hard drives are long dead. None of them exist.

But in going through all of our stuff in storage I found there was a paper version of one of the novels. It is called Falling. The opening goes like this...

"The thin chime pierced the silence. Heads or tails. Life or death.
The coin landed.
He shrugged.
It was death.
Okay."

I might take a look at this survivor.

Great Expectations

Went down to our storage cage to find a book that has one of my short stories in it to give to my cafe helper (and friend) Loredana. Couldn't find the book; I must have given them all away.

But I did find millions of the books Ann and I have read (sooo many books) and all these long forgotten photos. Actual photos in albums. Strange to see who we were, what we were doing, who we were trying to be, compared to who we have become. This was me as an extra on the set of, I think, Great Expectations, this scene filmed in Balmain Court House.

Please Forgive Me

Today walking along Smith Street... I love this song. It's one of my favourite songs ever. And the video clip... so fucking beautiful. Today walking along Smith Street, this song started playing from some unknown place. I smiled, because I love this song so much. La laa laaa, please forgive me, I never meant to hurt yoooo... la la la laaa

I vaguely wondered where the music was coming from until it eventually stopped. Then I remembered that I like this song so much that it's my ring tone. The Dreaded One had been trying to phone me.

This is not the first time this has happened

Gone Doofing Again: Yemaya 2016

Sign on the cafe door before going to Yemaya. Such a good festival with good friends old and new. This is just kind of a bookmark: went to the festival, didn't catch up with Loredana. I hope to fill in more details later. Beautiful weekend with friends, but the Loredana thing was a big disappointment. Really wanted to spend festival time with her. Alas...

The Evolution Of Friendship

And so Badaboom Beverley's orbit leaves my realm. She will zing past again in one month before heading off forever into the future. We caught up briefly in the cafe today. It was the relaxed comfort of catching up with a good friend. Love the evolution of friendship. Once a stranger, now a friend. It's a beautiful thing.

Private Lives By Noel Coward, Balloon Head Theatre, Review

Private Lives

Reviewed by Lee Bemrose



This debut production by Balloon Head Theatre of Noel Coward's classic romantic comedy was also my first experience of the play, and although I know that it is produced regularly to mostly glowing reviews, and although I am a sucker for a good romcom, I can't say I'm a fan of the play. I honestly don't know what all the fuss is about.

For the uninitiated, Elyot and Amanda used to be married. Then they divorced. Elyot recently married Sybil and Amanda recently married Victor. By coincidence, Elyot and Sybil have booked their honeymoon hotel room right next door to Amanda and Victor's honeymoon hotel room. You're either the kind of person who reacts with “Ha! How funny is that?”, or the kind of person who thinks, “You've got to be kidding me.”

Elyot and Amanda discover that they are neighbours and decide, due to their acrimonious past, that they all must leave. They do not tell their new partners who is staying next door, just rather insist that they must leave. The newly-weds quarrel over this, with Sybil and Victor refusing to leave, and storming out for the evening. Elyot and Amanda reluctantly share drinks and conversation on Eliot's balcony. They reminisce and in the blink of an eye decide they are in love again, so much so that they have to elope at once without telling their new spouses what is going on. (Again... seriously?). Back in Amanda's Paris apartment, Elyot and Amanda hole up, booze up and talk incessantly about how much they love each other. Soon, however, they suddenly hate each other again. Sybil and Victor turn up, more shouting and bickering and insults and the play ends.

I once read that using coincidence as a device in story-telling was a pretty bad idea, so I admit that I was off to a bad start here with the coincidence of these former spouses ending up in neighbouring hotel rooms. I also questioned Sybil and Victor's obsessions with their new spouse's former spouses on their honeymoon – wouldn't this kind of talk have happened in the early stages of their relationships? Would they really happen on the first night of their honeymoon?

Thing is, the dialogue is pretty good and I found myself lightening up. WTF. Just a romcom. Lots of witty banter in this act and some pretty decent acting too, particularly from the driving forces of the play; Oscar Shaw as Elyot did Aloof Upper-Class-Twat really well, and Seren Oroszvary did Volatile Upper-Class I-Love-You-I-Hate-You-Psycho really well. The characters of Sybil (Rachel Shrives) and Victor (Ben Symon) appeared to be written as lighter characters and the roles were played accordingly, perhaps self-consciously going for the comic relief angle. This was most obvious in the second act when the mood was less fluffy than in the first act.

The second act seemed a little long and not as pacey as the first. This was because this was the serious part of the story, where shit was going to go down. The spirit of Elyot and Amanda being cocooned from the world in a drunken delirium of love was beautifully done, then a little over-done. The comedy to drama ratio was kept up even though a tapering of the humour to let the serious stuff bubble through might have worked better (if I had been Noel Coward's dramaturg... oops... back to reviewing).

By the time Sybil and Victor arrived at the apartment, I had long stopped wondering how this was all going to pan out, because I didn't care for any of these characters. I really didn't care how it ended. If we liked at least one of the characters and wanted things to go their way there would have been some tension. But as it was, meh, I don't care if she ends up with him or he ends up with him or if they all kill each other with rusty spoons.

In saying how much I'm not a fan of the text (did you pick up on that at all?), I did think this was a pretty good debut production. Lots of friends and family in the audience on opening night and so naturally some of the laughs came from said family and friends seeing, erm, a family member or friend doing funny things on stage. But not all; many of the laughs were a result of some very good comic acting.

Set design was minimally evocative, which is all you need. Sound was a slight problem in the second act when the hotel walls were pushed back on the stage and the balconies became the apartments walls and music was played loud.

The French housemaid Louise (Camilla Eustance) was funny without doing much, as was the Kate Bush piece, which I suspect probably wasn't in the original text. Both these segments were absolutely enjoyable but didn't seem to move the story forward in any way.

If you're a fan of this Noel Coward guy, I suspect you'll probably enjoy Balloon Head Theatre's production of Private Lives. Looking forward to seeing to what Balloon Head does next.

This Will Be My Biggest Life Regret

Two of my favourite people ever. The one in the middle gets married this weekend. I loathe weddings, but I would gladly swap all the weddings I've ever thought I had to attend to be at this one.

My love for Ann is simple and obvious.

My love for Kat is more complex. My kid sister. Happy to be her older brother. Kind of crushed I wasn't able to be there for her marriage. Cried in the cafe today because I couldn't be in San Francisco this weekend. Actually cried. The moment has gone. I fucked up. I wasn't there.

And life goes on.

Dear Universe... Please Be Kinder

Today in the cafe... life is so beautiful and so fucking horrible. I love the meaningful friendships that develop with our customers. You get to know their name, you get to know a little about their life. Sometimes they become friends, because their art is good or their sense of humour is good, or just damnit, they just seem good.

Have been blessed lately too with the most perfect co-workers. Life is beautiful.

And so fucking horrible.

Long time Team Awesome member M... her mother has been unwell for a long time. Proper unwell. M has also recently become properly unwell. It's shit that a kind and intelligent and caring 21 year old shouldn't have to go through. Good person with a heart of gold, she has had enough to contend with.

Then today she tells us that her 8 year old sister - who she adores - has some kind of aggressive brain tumour.

I really wish these people would get a break. They deserve a break. Give them a break, Universe, you fucking prick.

That Laugh, That Day

That day... do you remember that day? That day in the cafe when we talked about the serious stuff of relationships and love and history and the present and how it's all so beautifully confusing. Remember how I told you that story? Remember how hard you laughed your musical laugh?

I will never forget that laugh. I will never forget that day.

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.