The Ferris Wheel Of Emotions

I visited Sydney recently. I left with mixed emotions. The mixed emotions, like a Ferris wheel, go round and round.

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.