After lunch service at the cafe I switch to more guitar driven, brooding songs. It's my place, my time of the day. Sometimes I even sing out loud to some Nick Cave or Tom Waits. Every now and again a songs makes me stop the glamorous tasks of cleaning and tidying and go Huh? How good is this?
This was one such song. Love it when old songs are new to your ears.
I
don't know about the title of this show – I really don't – but it
feels like some numpty somewhere involved in making a world class
comedy festival insisted that Rich Hall give his show a name, when in
fact the show could have just as easily have been called “Rich
Hall”. And I can kind of hear Rich saying something like, “Oh for
fuck sake you Goddamn marketing numpty – why does my show need a
name? Why do I need some stupid label? Tins of baked beans need
labels – am I a tin of Goddamned motherfucking baked beans? Okay.
Okay. How about... I dunno – 3:10 To Humour? That okay with you,
you piece of shit marketing numpty?” Sure, it could be a pun on
some obscure 1950s short story set in the wild west, but even so its
relevance to the show's content eludes me.
Rich Hall is one of
those comedy acts that really doesn't need to be labelled. He's Rich
Hall, and that's that. And he's just about the funniest guy you're
likely to see on stage so basically just buy a ticket and know that
you will laugh your arse off. I'm a reviewer and I'm going to spend
some of my own cash to see the show again, and I think that's a
bigger endorsement than any shitty little five star deal.
Rich
gives himself an off-stage introduction, then wanders on-stage
looking like he just woke up 10 minutes ago and really couldn't care
less. He tells us he is glad to be back in Melbourne and gets on with
some of his observations of the differences between Australians and
Americans. In politics, it seems, the concept of a coalition is
head-bending to Americans. And maybe he has a point – just look at
the coalition of shoe repairers and key cutters. I for one had never
considered how odd this coupling was, but now that this outsider had
pointed it out, why shoe repairs and key-cutting?
For some
reason – something to do with the various Bush politicians being
exactly the same - the comedian needed to do an impressively awful
impersonation of one of the impressively awful Baldwin brothers which
lead to Hall wandering slouch-shouldered off stage and into the
audience to heckle himself. Back up on stage he did another of the
Baldwin brothers (pretty much the same as the first), to come back
down into the audience to harangue himself with even harsher abuse.
This turned into him being an imaginary audience member heckling the
heckler... you've got to love a valid point wrapped up in warped
silliness.
And he is very good at verbal abuse, too. His
banter with audience members frequently involves comically vehement
insults which he totally dead-pans to hilarious effect. On this night
he did an admirable job of not turning his ability to insult on a
couple of particularly annoying “hecklers”. (I rabbit-ear the
word hecklers because it was the lamest version of heckling ever.
Drunk idiots incapable of stringing a sentence together, they shouted
idiotic monosyllabic grunts far too frequently throughout the show).
Where most of the audience were on the verge of telling these
incoherent retards incapable of handling their booze to STFU, Hall
engaged somewhat and even made one the star of an improv song,
showing that this gruff, thunderous looking personification of a
hangover has a degree of finesse about him.
The music is a lot
of fun. He talks with someone in the audience and builds an improv
song out of the snippets of their life he has extracted from them.
It's clever and funny when it works, and just plain funny when he
struggles to make it work.
The highlight of the show for me
was his ode to Bob Dylan, Bob
Dylan Is Getting Back Together.
I hadn't heard it or heard of it before and as a result it was kind
of... astonishing. I won't spoil it here by describing it, but it is
one of the funniest things I've seen. The build up to it is perfect
and... I really want to describe it here but will resist.
The
bit when the harmonica blares out klaxon-like... no. I really must
resist. Just go see it. This piece is almost the sole reason for me
going back for more.
But outside of the songs, he has more
stories and they are just priceless. As well as the observational
stuff (politics, marriage, America's idiotic love affair with guns...
lots of stuff with a message as well as just being funny), he has
been the guest on many, many television shows and has a vast store of
anecdotes to draw upon. His experience with the little guy on car
show Top Gear is brilliant.
In short, I think a certain
reviewer has a bit of a man crush on a certain dishevelled comedian
and he is looking forward to their next date.
There is always a younger woman.
You become her friend,
Her confidante,
No really, her very special friend.
I like that you have these occasional encounters,
And I like that Solitary-You finds happiness
In the company of other people
When you claim to not like people.
I like that there is love,
Platonic yet deep and friendly love.
I like seeing the happiness they give you
And the happiness you give to them.
But do you ever wonder,
Ever
How you would feel
If there was a younger man?
Another thought that keeps me up late at night... "I wonder if I am
upsetting something in the order of life and the universe by using a
Schick razor and Gillette shaving gel at the same time..."
As a serious student of the celebrity interview, this has always been my
favourite. Just saw it again on a comedy doco after a million years,
and I still love it so much that tears got in my eyes. I fucking love
this.
Good Lord that felt like a long four days off. Funny that only one of
those days didn't involve doing some time in the cafe. Still, caught up
with old friends and today chatted with another friend overseas and
really appreciated the voice contact. Sometimes I think friends I
haven't heard from for a while are just characters in stories I've made
up. Hearing their voice, it's reassuring to realise that no, they are
very real and very much loved and missed... they are just out there
somewhere having adventures.
This song fascinates me. The whole album Push The Sky Away... It's my favourite Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds album. I told The Dreaded One this yesterday. She told me that I already told her this yesterday. I told her yes I know, but it's even more favourite today than it was yesterday
It's drunk, and you're late, but she still kisses you on the mouth in that late drunk way, and you think maybe the thing, that special thing, maybe that thing isn't broken after all.
Every now and then you hear a quote that speaks to you. This, for me, is one such quote:
"I have no news of my coming or passing away - the whole thing happened quicker than a breath; ask no question of the moth."
Farid al-Din Attar, courtesy of the wonderfully hilarious human, Judith Lucy, who I one day hope to hug. She is a warm and honest and very funny moth indeed.
First time I've heard the original version of this gorgeous song. Have only heard the something overdrive remix. This is beautiful songing. And yes I meant to write songing.
Been a day of music today. I really listened to Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds' Push The Sky Away for the first time today. It's a favourite album. The guy is a master song writer, story teller, singer and musician. All things considered, Surround Me by 3-11 Porter is probably shit in that it's their one and only hit, and Nick Cave has hundreds of beautiful songs and hits, but I still like it.
Been too busy to write much lately, but things are good. Another traveler co-worker left after too short a time and I was a bit unhappy about it. She was wonderful to work with, so very kind and gentle and intelligent, and her presence brought these qualities out in me, I think. Surround yourself with the kind of people you want to be, and you'll become that person. Fleur will be missed in the workplace, but unless I am badly mistaken, I think I have another friend.
It's sometimes easy to forget, but one of our motivations when starting the cafe was to make a place where we are all happy to come to. Both The Dreaded One and I had some bad experiences with employers and wanted to make sure that our workers didn't move on and feel the way we did about our bad employers. I think it's just about liking the people you choose and respecting them for who they are and what they do.
I think that they have all gone on to become friends who stay in touch after they leave, or who initiate after work drinks with us or social meets on the weekends... I think we're doing all right.
Surround yourself with good people. It's a beautiful thing.
So much beauty it hurts. Hearing this, having seen these guys play live on the weekend, knowing the evil that is going on right now in the world... ergh. Headfuck.
Some aspects of this tale might come across as what some of you like to label "First World Problems" ... judgmental fuckers that you are.
So, like, I came back from an absolutely awesome dance festival feeling in absolute agony. Muscles so sore from sooo much dancing to soooo much good music. The soreness of my leg muscles triggered memories of happiness, which was horrible because my face muscles were also aching from all the smiling and laughter that had taken place over this treacherously Bacchanalian weekend.
Working in my cafe, I'd kind of hoped to ease into this short three day week after four days off, but noooooo... all of our regulars who made do with some other cafe the day before ALL came back for breakfast and coffee and then lunch as well and we got properly spanked. Jesus. It was relentless. And they told us things like how they missed us and that they were glad we were open again and I think this was their passive aggressive way of saying they think we should never close again because they like our breakfast and coffee and food so much.
Fuckers.
As if all that wasn't bad enough, I broke out in a sweat when I heard London Grammar on the radio... no doubt the torment of London Grammar cancelling their previous Melbourne gig (simply because I got all OMG OMG OMG!!! excited about them) burns in your mind, so you can possibly almost imagine the utter, utter, utter, utter, utter anguish that squished me when I suddenly wondered if perhaps their re-scheduled gig was tonight. WHAT IF LONDON GRAMMAR ARE PLAYING TONIGHT???!!! I CAN'T POSSIBLY SEE LONDON GRAMMAR TONIGHT BECAUSE OF THE SPANK AND THE SORE OF THE MUSCLES AND THE FACE-ACHE FROM SMILING AND LAUGHING AND DANCING AT AN AMAZING DANCE FESTIVAL!!! FUCK!!!
I have never - NEVER - been through such a traumatic episode in my entire life.
The only good that came out of this is that - and you are going to be so relieved to hear this - London Grammar are not playing until Saturday night. Oh what a happy ending to this nightmare of a day.
Sitting in the Gasometer pub at the end of Smith Street, alone with my thoughts and an after-work pint of beer for company, I remembered another time in another pub. I think it was The Clock on Crown Street, Surry Hills. Sitting up there on the balcony in full Sydney sunshine, I wasn't alone. I was with my beautiful friend Christine. What a luxury - afternoon sunshine, beer and a beautiful friend.
I remember being in a funny mood. As relaxed as I get with my closest friends. The very shy Funny Lee sometimes emerges. On this day, I was being a claws out fashionista bitch commentator on all the Crown Street fashion victims passing by. At one point during my commentary I thought Christine was being a bit quiet.
I looked sideways and saw that she was doubled over, almost crying in silent laughter at my silliness. A beautiful human, a beautiful moment, a beautiful memory.
And sitting in the Gasometer pub at the end of Smith Street, alone with my thoughts and a pint of after-work beer for company, I realised that I was smiling my head off at the memory.
I wanted to write something beautiful today
I wanted to write about the beautiful strangers Who become friends I wanted to write about the broken-getting-to-know yous in the work place, And the eventual and lasting getting-to-know yous.
I wanted to come up with some poetic way Of expressing my gratitude for recent and treasured encounters (Without getting actual poetic because I am an actual shit poet) Because my heart has been melted many times
By the kind hearts of these beautiful strangers.
I wanted to write something nice today About these beautiful strangers Who have enriched my life and have made me happy With their honest individuality.
I wanted to write something beautiful today But I was too busy.
I saw Zoe years ago at a gig with Amanda Palmer and Meow Meow. Says a lot that I'd never heard of the cellist but that she stood out between such limelight personalities. I love the cello - it does wonderful things with your emotions. I loved what I was seeing someone do with the instrument. It was mesmerising. I loved seeing how absorbed by her music Zoe was. You can see it in this clip. She is obviously a passionate person.
Today she lost her partner of 17 years. The news made me incredibly sad because I had been hoping everything would be all right, but kind of thinking everything was probably not going to be all right.
Random writings, stories, magazine theatre reviews and interviews, fiction, and occasionally my bi-weekly column Grumpy, which used to appear in the pages of Tsunami mag. Oh and be sure to check out my ebook, 17 Stories Of Love & Crime.
