Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
I Don't Care
Christmas,
I don't care.
Birthdays,
I don't care.
Valentine's Day,
I especially don't care.
Mother's Day,
I don't fucking care.
Father's Day,
Don't fucking care.
New Year's Eve?
Don't fucking care.
National pride celebration?
Don't care.
The lost souls,
I care.
The broken ones,
I care.
The ones withe their weirdness
Searching for love,
I care.
The ones who need love,
I love,
And I care.
To the jealous ones,
I feel no jealousy.
To the angry ones,
I feel no anger.
To those who need to manipulate and control,
I wish you freedom,
Be free and let others be free.
And if you are incapable of doing that,
I don't care.
I don't care.
Birthdays,
I don't care.
Valentine's Day,
I especially don't care.
Mother's Day,
I don't fucking care.
Father's Day,
Don't fucking care.
New Year's Eve?
Don't fucking care.
National pride celebration?
Don't care.
The lost souls,
I care.
The broken ones,
I care.
The ones withe their weirdness
Searching for love,
I care.
The ones who need love,
I love,
And I care.
To the jealous ones,
I feel no jealousy.
To the angry ones,
I feel no anger.
To those who need to manipulate and control,
I wish you freedom,
Be free and let others be free.
And if you are incapable of doing that,
I don't care.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Sunday, November 27, 2016
Apart & Together
Apart
& Together
Apart.
They were suddenly at the same stall at that market, the one with the clothes and jewellery from far away places. They didn't know they were standing side-by-side. They didn't know they were together again, because they had wandered.
In silence, separately, they reached for the same thing. Green and black stone embedded in leather. A beautiful thing hand-made by someone they would never meet.
Their hands touched. They stopped and turned to each other. They smiled as they saw each other as though for the first time. They looked into each others eyes in that way people so rarely do. They saw each other.
Hey. It's you.
Hey. Yes, it's me. And it's you.
It's me and you again. How long has it been? 15 years?
Almost 20.
Wow. Almost 20 years.
They kissed and they hugged a 20 year hug.
Together
They were suddenly at the same stall at that market, the one with the clothes and jewellery from far away places. They didn't know they were standing side-by-side. They didn't know they were together again, because they had wandered.
In silence, separately, they reached for the same thing. Green and black stone embedded in leather. A beautiful thing made by someone they would never meet.
Their hands touched. They stopped and turned to each other. They smiled as they saw each other as though for the first time. They looked into each others eyes in that way people so rarely do. They saw each other.
Hey. It's you.
Hey. Yes, it's me. And it's you.
It's me and you again. How long has it been? 15 years?
Almost 20.
Wow. Almost 20 years.
They kissed and they hugged a 20 year hug.
Apart.
They were suddenly at the same stall at that market, the one with the clothes and jewellery from far away places. They didn't know they were standing side-by-side. They didn't know they were together again, because they had wandered.
In silence, separately, they reached for the same thing. Green and black stone embedded in leather. A beautiful thing hand-made by someone they would never meet.
Their hands touched. They stopped and turned to each other. They smiled as they saw each other as though for the first time. They looked into each others eyes in that way people so rarely do. They saw each other.
Hey. It's you.
Hey. Yes, it's me. And it's you.
It's me and you again. How long has it been? 15 years?
Almost 20.
Wow. Almost 20 years.
They kissed and they hugged a 20 year hug.
Together
They were suddenly at the same stall at that market, the one with the clothes and jewellery from far away places. They didn't know they were standing side-by-side. They didn't know they were together again, because they had wandered.
In silence, separately, they reached for the same thing. Green and black stone embedded in leather. A beautiful thing made by someone they would never meet.
Their hands touched. They stopped and turned to each other. They smiled as they saw each other as though for the first time. They looked into each others eyes in that way people so rarely do. They saw each other.
Hey. It's you.
Hey. Yes, it's me. And it's you.
It's me and you again. How long has it been? 15 years?
Almost 20.
Wow. Almost 20 years.
They kissed and they hugged a 20 year hug.
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Random Turn
It was his solitary walk from his work to his home. He chose a different path each day. His random wandering at the end of his random but predictable day.
Some days this road, this random side street. Other days, another main road, another side street, a kink and a turn, old houses concealing their families and their histories, their joys and their sorrows.
This day, without thinking, he just took an old familiar route. He enjoyed the buzz of Brunswick Street, then the contrast of that random turn into quiet suburbia so close to the buzz of it all.
He saw her immediately in the distance, her unmistakable shape. The hoodie, her hands tucked cosily in the front pockets. It was her park, her corner of her park. It was their corner of their park and he was there with her.
Fuck, he thought, why this random turn on this random day? Why couldn't he have taken an earlier random turn? An earlier random turn and he would never have seen them. And they would never have seen him.
But he had seen them. And they had seen him. He felt sure they had seen him.
It was quiet. The street was long. This walk was going to be slow and long. It was too late for him to turn around and go back. They had seen him. He had seen them. He kept walking towards them, wondering why this was happening. A man walked by with a snuffling French Bulldog, the man's life apparently, beautifully, uncomplicated.
As the distance between them closed, she turned her back to him. Definitely. She had seen him.
As the distance between them closed, he focused on other things - these trees, this sky, those clouds, this life. He knew they both wished they had not seen each other.
The other one, he also pretended to not see.
So close now, in a normal situation, with normal people, greetings would be shared. Hey. Hey. How are you? Join us. It's good to see you.
But there was just this strange silence.
He kept walking, looking at the trees and the clouds and thinking about the weirdness of life. And they kept looking the other way, also looking at the trees and the clouds and thinking about life. There was a peaceful silence all around them.
Mercifully, the distance between them grew.
He didn't look back, just kept on walking, knowing that something had changed forever.
Some days this road, this random side street. Other days, another main road, another side street, a kink and a turn, old houses concealing their families and their histories, their joys and their sorrows.
This day, without thinking, he just took an old familiar route. He enjoyed the buzz of Brunswick Street, then the contrast of that random turn into quiet suburbia so close to the buzz of it all.
He saw her immediately in the distance, her unmistakable shape. The hoodie, her hands tucked cosily in the front pockets. It was her park, her corner of her park. It was their corner of their park and he was there with her.
Fuck, he thought, why this random turn on this random day? Why couldn't he have taken an earlier random turn? An earlier random turn and he would never have seen them. And they would never have seen him.
But he had seen them. And they had seen him. He felt sure they had seen him.
It was quiet. The street was long. This walk was going to be slow and long. It was too late for him to turn around and go back. They had seen him. He had seen them. He kept walking towards them, wondering why this was happening. A man walked by with a snuffling French Bulldog, the man's life apparently, beautifully, uncomplicated.
As the distance between them closed, she turned her back to him. Definitely. She had seen him.
As the distance between them closed, he focused on other things - these trees, this sky, those clouds, this life. He knew they both wished they had not seen each other.
The other one, he also pretended to not see.
So close now, in a normal situation, with normal people, greetings would be shared. Hey. Hey. How are you? Join us. It's good to see you.
But there was just this strange silence.
He kept walking, looking at the trees and the clouds and thinking about the weirdness of life. And they kept looking the other way, also looking at the trees and the clouds and thinking about life. There was a peaceful silence all around them.
Mercifully, the distance between them grew.
He didn't look back, just kept on walking, knowing that something had changed forever.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Moon
Today
in the cafe... It was hot today, so I wore a pair of my mega baggy,
mega billowy, mega meshy doof pants to work. The Boys are very grateful
for the freedom and the flowing breeze these pants give them. Honestly,
they whoop it up down there, high five each other and are just generally
really happy. Going commando - it's all about freedom.
At one point, I'm in the cool-room trying to sort out the milk crate situation. Situation almost sorted when I step backwards through the open cool-room door. My left foot catches the right leg of my mega baggy pants and totally pulls the whole pants scenario way down past my arse cheeks. I bend over to correct the wardrobe malfunction, and for several loooooong moments anyone in the kitchen would just see me mooning the kitchen from the cool room. Awesome, I think, I've just pantsed myself at work.
At one point, I'm in the cool-room trying to sort out the milk crate situation. Situation almost sorted when I step backwards through the open cool-room door. My left foot catches the right leg of my mega baggy pants and totally pulls the whole pants scenario way down past my arse cheeks. I bend over to correct the wardrobe malfunction, and for several loooooong moments anyone in the kitchen would just see me mooning the kitchen from the cool room. Awesome, I think, I've just pantsed myself at work.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
John The Revelator, Early Morning Wake Up Song
Woke
up with Nick Cave's version of John The Revelator being played at 11.
Love that song. Found this version and like it even more. How weird that our sleeping heads find a song or piece of music to tune into so strongly while we are asleep.
Sunday, November 06, 2016
Black Cat Memories
Saturday, November 05, 2016
Solitude
Dear Potential New Best Friends,
Sorry - forget it. Don't make friends with me. I don't like this friendship thing. It only leads to trouble. And if not trouble, sadness. Because you always leave.
I'd actually rather just sit here in the eternal darkness by myself than meet you again, and fall in love with you again, because there is peace in this darkness.
So don't meet me. Don't see me. Don't befriend me and don't love me.
Just leave me in peace.
But know that I might have loved you. And you might have loved me.
Sorry - forget it. Don't make friends with me. I don't like this friendship thing. It only leads to trouble. And if not trouble, sadness. Because you always leave.
I'd actually rather just sit here in the eternal darkness by myself than meet you again, and fall in love with you again, because there is peace in this darkness.
So don't meet me. Don't see me. Don't befriend me and don't love me.
Just leave me in peace.
But know that I might have loved you. And you might have loved me.
Wednesday, November 02, 2016
Today In The Cafe... The Anger Experiment
Today in
the cafe... The friendship between Grumpy and Kafka Woman is quite a
unique and unlikely thing, filled with unique and unlikely
conversations and occurrences that sometimes perplex both of them as
well as their co-workers and the cafe's customers. It's not uncommon
for some random conversation to unfold into a practical joke or
series of social experiments that leave customers scratching their
head, smirking in bewilderment or simply laughing, even though they
are not quite sure what exactly it is that they are laughing
at.
Kafka Woman has now become the very masculine Diego Belafonte. Grumpy has become Diego's adorably feminine sister, Tallulah Belafonte. Under the circumstances, this is a perfectly normal development. Sometimes, things just are what they are and it's best not to question their nature. Sometimes, you just have to roll with the weirdness.
The identical twins Belafonte have had their fair share of arguments, of course, just like all siblings. Some intense shit has gone down, man, but things seem to have settled into a new and peaceful phase.
So peaceful, in fact, that this conversation took place:
So, erm, my rugged twin brother Diego...
Yes my adorably feminine twin sister Tallulah? What's on that delicate flowerbed of a mind of yours?
I was just thinking that I don't think I am capable of being angry with you any more.
Ohhhh... that's so adorably and perfectly in keeping with that sweet feminine Goddess nature of yours.
Thank you, you Viking of a man-brother you. The thing is, I think we should conduct an experiment.
Oh wow. You know how much I like a good experiment. Tell me about this experiment.
Well... I think to prove this hypothesis, you should try to make me angry with you.
Hmm.
Yes. Just do random things at unexpected moments that you think will make me angry with you.
I like the sound of this experiment. A lot. I mean – a LOT! I'll have to keep a diary of what I have done, how angry I think this thing will make you and how angry – if at all – it has actually made you.
Indeed. I love your attention to detail. And maybe how long the anger – if indeed there is any anger – lasts.
We've conducted quite a few fun experiments in the last eight months that we have been lifelong identical twins with different accents, but this is by far the most fun one. We should start right away.
Okay – ouch! Why did you just poke me in the eye?
How did that make you feel, my most girly of girly girls Tallulah?
Oh I see what you did there. Yeah, that hurt like fuck but nope, not angry.
That's amazing. What if I do this...
No – I think you should be more random and unexpected. And maybe less physically violent, although some physical violence should come into the experiment.
Okay. Fair enough. So dropping things, spilling things, getting customer orders wrong, that sort of thing?
Yeah, just all the things you normally do so well. Although, there is a problem.
Yes my sweetest Tallulah?
The fact that we both know we are conducting this experiment kind of ruins the experiment. You might accidentally do something that should make me angry and I might consciously recall that this experiment is being conducted and consciously not get angry with you. It's not reliably scientific. For it to be a reliably scientific experiment, I would have to be unaware that we were conducting an experiment.
Hmm. I see what you mean. But I think we should try this experiment anyway. Oops – so sorry Tallulah. Did that hurt? Did it make you angry? How angry did it make you? Do you think you will be angry for long? If so, how long?
Kafka Woman has now become the very masculine Diego Belafonte. Grumpy has become Diego's adorably feminine sister, Tallulah Belafonte. Under the circumstances, this is a perfectly normal development. Sometimes, things just are what they are and it's best not to question their nature. Sometimes, you just have to roll with the weirdness.
The identical twins Belafonte have had their fair share of arguments, of course, just like all siblings. Some intense shit has gone down, man, but things seem to have settled into a new and peaceful phase.
So peaceful, in fact, that this conversation took place:
So, erm, my rugged twin brother Diego...
Yes my adorably feminine twin sister Tallulah? What's on that delicate flowerbed of a mind of yours?
I was just thinking that I don't think I am capable of being angry with you any more.
Ohhhh... that's so adorably and perfectly in keeping with that sweet feminine Goddess nature of yours.
Thank you, you Viking of a man-brother you. The thing is, I think we should conduct an experiment.
Oh wow. You know how much I like a good experiment. Tell me about this experiment.
Well... I think to prove this hypothesis, you should try to make me angry with you.
Hmm.
Yes. Just do random things at unexpected moments that you think will make me angry with you.
I like the sound of this experiment. A lot. I mean – a LOT! I'll have to keep a diary of what I have done, how angry I think this thing will make you and how angry – if at all – it has actually made you.
Indeed. I love your attention to detail. And maybe how long the anger – if indeed there is any anger – lasts.
We've conducted quite a few fun experiments in the last eight months that we have been lifelong identical twins with different accents, but this is by far the most fun one. We should start right away.
Okay – ouch! Why did you just poke me in the eye?
How did that make you feel, my most girly of girly girls Tallulah?
Oh I see what you did there. Yeah, that hurt like fuck but nope, not angry.
That's amazing. What if I do this...
No – I think you should be more random and unexpected. And maybe less physically violent, although some physical violence should come into the experiment.
Okay. Fair enough. So dropping things, spilling things, getting customer orders wrong, that sort of thing?
Yeah, just all the things you normally do so well. Although, there is a problem.
Yes my sweetest Tallulah?
The fact that we both know we are conducting this experiment kind of ruins the experiment. You might accidentally do something that should make me angry and I might consciously recall that this experiment is being conducted and consciously not get angry with you. It's not reliably scientific. For it to be a reliably scientific experiment, I would have to be unaware that we were conducting an experiment.
Hmm. I see what you mean. But I think we should try this experiment anyway. Oops – so sorry Tallulah. Did that hurt? Did it make you angry? How angry did it make you? Do you think you will be angry for long? If so, how long?
Tuesday, November 01, 2016
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Another Happy Story About Love And Suicide
Today in the cafe... I was in a reasonably good mood in the morning. This is actually a small miracle. I soaked it up. I back-swam leisurely through those usually grumpy A.M hours, kind of wondering what the hell was going on. What a luxury to be in good spirits first thing in the morning.
Then sometime during lunch service my mood took a hit and went into a tailspin. Oh Christ, I thought, here we go. This is more like it. This is what I'm used to. But fuck - such a horrible contrast to how I felt just such a short while ago. Just earlier I felt content and happy and lucky, whereas now is all gloom. Now I am acutely aware of The End Of All Things. Happiness ENDS. Friendship ENDS. Love ENDS. Life ENDS. Everything fucking ENDS.
If I sound jokey about it here, I did not feel jokey about it then. This bleakness is real and suffocating and I hate feeling it so much that I just want to curl up and go to sleep and never wake up, because never waking up means never feeling this way again, and that is a good thing. I just want to stop thinking. I just want to not be.
Thing is, I have felt this way frequently throughout my life. My default setting is not happiness. I write funny things and I write happy things, and I am actually an optimist, I'm just not a happy soul.
The funny thing about all of this is that people around me never know that these shifts in mood occur. Or rather, I think they see when I am happy; I just don't think appreciate the dark depths my mood frequently plummets to. I think they like my occasional smiles and my oh-so-rare LOLs, but they are used to my thoughtful quietness without realising just how quietly crazy I actually am on the inside. They would probably be shocked that I have often wanted to die.
But what the fuck do I know? Maybe all of us feel the exact same way.
I used to have a humour column in a cool music mag. That column saved me so often. I'd be in these moods, these desperately dark moods where death felt like a snuggly dooner, and I'd have these deadlines. Blackest mood be fucked, I have a deadline to write something funny, and I'd look around at the world filled with all you funny humans taking things too seriously, taking life too seriously, and I'd squint a little and see the funny. And I would write some funny.
I really can write funny. I love writing funny, because writing funny makes the pendulum swing. Suddenly, I'm laughing, as I write about some random shit I saw. If I'm laughing as I write, I know (and this is the real pay-off) that my friends and total strangers are going to be laughing as they read. My column had been going for 10 years, and over time I trusted this feeling. If I can just make myself laugh while writing, they will also be laughing when reading. So I've made myself feel better, and I've made other people feel better. That's a pretty cool thing.
So today I thought about all of this in that black fug I was going through, and I realised that even though I don't have the column any more, I can still set myself a deadline and just write something funny. This will be awesome. Squint a little to see the funny shit and write it.
I squinted like Clint Eastwood, and yeah, I came up with a story.
I'll say here that I also write some pretty dark stories. There's an e-book of mine on Amazon called 17 Stories Of Love & Crime, and there's some really dark stuff about love in there. When I come up with a story, I know if it's got the right stuff because I get waves of goosebumps. I well up with emotion. The story starts feeling real. Time kind of stops and I hear the narration and the dialogue and see the plot unfolding. It's a strange and unique feeling.
So looking for humour to climb out of this dark, dark hole I was in today, this is what I came up with:
There is a couple, happy in their coupledom. They have been together for quite a while. They reminisce about how they met. How did they meet? He saved her life. She initially fell in love with him because he saved her life, but they got to know each other and she loved him because of him, because of the kind of person he was. He got to know her, and he fell in love with her too. He has always been puzzled about the beginnings of her love for him. The act of his saving her life... it has always been a curious thing for him. She admits that yes, that's where it started.
You were a stranger. You were the only stranger who cared enough to stop me going through with it.
But another stranger might have come along.
No, it was you. It was you, it was meant to be... all these years might never have been... I love you and I thank you.
I love you and I thank you too.
(What makes the story work is this little thing he has never told her. Maybe he tells her now, after all these years).
I'm glad I was there to save you. I'm so very happy I talked you out of it. Who knows - maybe, you're right, maybe there wouldn't have been another stranger who cared enough... maybe you would have gone through with it and you would not be here now.
Oh God... too sad to think.
Yes, too sad to think.
There's a thing I never told you. This small detail.
Really? Tell me this small detail.
Okay. The night before we met... the morning before we met, actually. The morning before we met I woke up hungover with a plastic shopping bag in my bed. I was puzzled by this. I mean, of all the odd things to wake up with in bed, a plastic shopping bag?
Yes?
I was drinking a lot at the time. I was alone. You know, I'm a solitary kind of man.
Yes. I know. But the plastic bag?
I remembered, eventually. I'd had enough. I'd had enough booze and I'd had enough of everything, and I decided to go to sleep forever. I went to bed with the plastic shopping bag with the intention of putting it over my head and never waking up.
Oh.
Yes.
And...
And after lying there in the dark and thinking about everything for just that little bit too long, I missed my opportunity. I fell asleep. I passed out.
Ah. Wow. And if you hadn't passed out...
Yes.
They looked at each other for a long time, really fell into each others eyes, and they hugged a long hug that might never have been.
Then sometime during lunch service my mood took a hit and went into a tailspin. Oh Christ, I thought, here we go. This is more like it. This is what I'm used to. But fuck - such a horrible contrast to how I felt just such a short while ago. Just earlier I felt content and happy and lucky, whereas now is all gloom. Now I am acutely aware of The End Of All Things. Happiness ENDS. Friendship ENDS. Love ENDS. Life ENDS. Everything fucking ENDS.
If I sound jokey about it here, I did not feel jokey about it then. This bleakness is real and suffocating and I hate feeling it so much that I just want to curl up and go to sleep and never wake up, because never waking up means never feeling this way again, and that is a good thing. I just want to stop thinking. I just want to not be.
Thing is, I have felt this way frequently throughout my life. My default setting is not happiness. I write funny things and I write happy things, and I am actually an optimist, I'm just not a happy soul.
The funny thing about all of this is that people around me never know that these shifts in mood occur. Or rather, I think they see when I am happy; I just don't think appreciate the dark depths my mood frequently plummets to. I think they like my occasional smiles and my oh-so-rare LOLs, but they are used to my thoughtful quietness without realising just how quietly crazy I actually am on the inside. They would probably be shocked that I have often wanted to die.
But what the fuck do I know? Maybe all of us feel the exact same way.
I used to have a humour column in a cool music mag. That column saved me so often. I'd be in these moods, these desperately dark moods where death felt like a snuggly dooner, and I'd have these deadlines. Blackest mood be fucked, I have a deadline to write something funny, and I'd look around at the world filled with all you funny humans taking things too seriously, taking life too seriously, and I'd squint a little and see the funny. And I would write some funny.
I really can write funny. I love writing funny, because writing funny makes the pendulum swing. Suddenly, I'm laughing, as I write about some random shit I saw. If I'm laughing as I write, I know (and this is the real pay-off) that my friends and total strangers are going to be laughing as they read. My column had been going for 10 years, and over time I trusted this feeling. If I can just make myself laugh while writing, they will also be laughing when reading. So I've made myself feel better, and I've made other people feel better. That's a pretty cool thing.
So today I thought about all of this in that black fug I was going through, and I realised that even though I don't have the column any more, I can still set myself a deadline and just write something funny. This will be awesome. Squint a little to see the funny shit and write it.
I squinted like Clint Eastwood, and yeah, I came up with a story.
I'll say here that I also write some pretty dark stories. There's an e-book of mine on Amazon called 17 Stories Of Love & Crime, and there's some really dark stuff about love in there. When I come up with a story, I know if it's got the right stuff because I get waves of goosebumps. I well up with emotion. The story starts feeling real. Time kind of stops and I hear the narration and the dialogue and see the plot unfolding. It's a strange and unique feeling.
So looking for humour to climb out of this dark, dark hole I was in today, this is what I came up with:
There is a couple, happy in their coupledom. They have been together for quite a while. They reminisce about how they met. How did they meet? He saved her life. She initially fell in love with him because he saved her life, but they got to know each other and she loved him because of him, because of the kind of person he was. He got to know her, and he fell in love with her too. He has always been puzzled about the beginnings of her love for him. The act of his saving her life... it has always been a curious thing for him. She admits that yes, that's where it started.
You were a stranger. You were the only stranger who cared enough to stop me going through with it.
But another stranger might have come along.
No, it was you. It was you, it was meant to be... all these years might never have been... I love you and I thank you.
I love you and I thank you too.
(What makes the story work is this little thing he has never told her. Maybe he tells her now, after all these years).
I'm glad I was there to save you. I'm so very happy I talked you out of it. Who knows - maybe, you're right, maybe there wouldn't have been another stranger who cared enough... maybe you would have gone through with it and you would not be here now.
Oh God... too sad to think.
Yes, too sad to think.
There's a thing I never told you. This small detail.
Really? Tell me this small detail.
Okay. The night before we met... the morning before we met, actually. The morning before we met I woke up hungover with a plastic shopping bag in my bed. I was puzzled by this. I mean, of all the odd things to wake up with in bed, a plastic shopping bag?
Yes?
I was drinking a lot at the time. I was alone. You know, I'm a solitary kind of man.
Yes. I know. But the plastic bag?
I remembered, eventually. I'd had enough. I'd had enough booze and I'd had enough of everything, and I decided to go to sleep forever. I went to bed with the plastic shopping bag with the intention of putting it over my head and never waking up.
Oh.
Yes.
And...
And after lying there in the dark and thinking about everything for just that little bit too long, I missed my opportunity. I fell asleep. I passed out.
Ah. Wow. And if you hadn't passed out...
Yes.
They looked at each other for a long time, really fell into each others eyes, and they hugged a long hug that might never have been.
Tuesday, October 25, 2016
Dragon Dreaming 2016
Love.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Spoons & Noodles On The Way To Dragon Dreaming
Currently
in a cheap hotel room in Albury en route to a festival, eating takeaway
Thai noodles with teaspoons because we forgot to grab takeaway cutlery
and had for some reason unpacked our usual camping cutlery from
the car. Also, I decided to check what clothing I had packed in the
drunken fug that was last night... apparently I was obsessed with socks
and scarves and fairy lights but not so interested in T-shirts. Not a
single T-shirt. So I'm going to be semi-naked underneath my warm things
and the fairy lights I intend to wear.
Lee is not a good Boy Scout.
Although he will probably have to fashion T-shirt like apparel out of fallen leaves and wombat poo.
Lee is not a good Boy Scout.
Although he will probably have to fashion T-shirt like apparel out of fallen leaves and wombat poo.
Tuesday, October 18, 2016
Lee's Distracted Understanding Of The Equation Of Love
The
Kind of thing I think about whilst being a monkey pulling levers and
making coffee... No demands + no expectations + no judgement + complete
acceptance = Love.
But they just see a monkey pulling levers.
But they just see a monkey pulling levers.
Friday, October 14, 2016
Saturday, October 01, 2016
Selfie, But Not Selfie
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Crutch Woman? Word Woman? Enthusiasm Woman?
Today in the cafe... A customer entered carrying crutches, her broken
leg heavily bandaged. "I've been in rehab but I've had enough," she
announced to the near empty, early morning cafe. "I had enough of rehab
and nurses and the awful hospital food and the vile coffee, so I've
escaped. They said I can't go because I'm a public liability, but to
hell with them. I'm here and I'd love to have The Dreaded One's
Breakfast and do you think you could make me a really nice cup of coffee? Thaaaanks, darlin'.
I nodded, wide-eyed and stunned, because she didn't stop talking. Where
was it all coming from? Who was it aimed at? She got a couple of
customers who were bemused or amused or just intrigued. One guy looked
to be all three of these as he shared some time with her. The look on
his face was priceless. He told her a story of his own injury and
unbelievably, she stopped talking and listened. When he finished, she
nodded and was off again, but she had really listened.
When I delivered her coffee she OMGéd several times very loudly because she was enjoying THE BEST COFFEE EVER! When her breakfast arrived (poached eggs with holandaise, wilted spinnach and mushrooms) I thought she was going to fall off her chair with the outrageous pleasure of it.
"Seriously... SERIOUSLY this is the best breakfast I have had in my ENTIRE life!"
She kept talking and talking and talking. I think she said more in that hour than I say on average in an entire month.
When she paid, she was so grateful. Everything was so beautiful. She took a business card to tell all her friends and she was going to come back and bother us again because she loves the place so much. She spotted my card with the link to my short story collection. She asked if I was the author. I nodded, rendered, as I was, practically speechless. It was her turn to be wide-eyed.
"Reeeeeally," she said in awe. "You're so clever. So talented and clever. I can't wait to read the stories. I can't wait to come back to this absolutely beautiful little cafe. It's been a real pleasure meeting you. You have a beautiful day. Have a really, really beautiful day."
Hands-down, my favourite customer of the day.
When I delivered her coffee she OMGéd several times very loudly because she was enjoying THE BEST COFFEE EVER! When her breakfast arrived (poached eggs with holandaise, wilted spinnach and mushrooms) I thought she was going to fall off her chair with the outrageous pleasure of it.
"Seriously... SERIOUSLY this is the best breakfast I have had in my ENTIRE life!"
She kept talking and talking and talking. I think she said more in that hour than I say on average in an entire month.
When she paid, she was so grateful. Everything was so beautiful. She took a business card to tell all her friends and she was going to come back and bother us again because she loves the place so much. She spotted my card with the link to my short story collection. She asked if I was the author. I nodded, rendered, as I was, practically speechless. It was her turn to be wide-eyed.
"Reeeeeally," she said in awe. "You're so clever. So talented and clever. I can't wait to read the stories. I can't wait to come back to this absolutely beautiful little cafe. It's been a real pleasure meeting you. You have a beautiful day. Have a really, really beautiful day."
Hands-down, my favourite customer of the day.
Sunday, September 04, 2016
An Esoteric Poem For Someone
An Esoteric Poem For Someone
Together, alone,
They said things,
And they said things,
And they said things,
Long into the night.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
No one else was there,
To hear these things they said,
No one else was there,
To witness the friendship that they shared.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
But everyone imagined things,
And so they said things,
And they thought things,
They believed all these things,
That were never said.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
But they made it through,
Not caring what others thought,
And they killed Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum,
Clandestine,
Surreptitious,
Jeff Goldblum,
They killed him until he was dead.
And their thing
Was a cool thing.
Together, alone,
They said things,
And they said things,
And they said things,
Long into the night.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
No one else was there,
To hear these things they said,
No one else was there,
To witness the friendship that they shared.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
But everyone imagined things,
And so they said things,
And they thought things,
They believed all these things,
That were never said.
Jeff Goldblum,
Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum.
But they made it through,
Not caring what others thought,
And they killed Jeff Goldblum,
Fucking Jeff Goldblum,
Clandestine,
Surreptitious,
Jeff Goldblum,
They killed him until he was dead.
And their thing
Was a cool thing.
Thursday, September 01, 2016
Pixel Review, Melbourne 2016
Pixel
Reviewed by Lee Bemrose
My review request for Pixel went something like this:
“Hey Australian Stage – I'd really like to review this. It looks so trippy that I might not need to take any pre-show acid like I usually do.
Hahaha - joking. This show looks so trippy that it's SCREAMING for pre-show acid.
Joking again. My pre-show drug of choice is actually ecstasy.”
Although in reality my pre-show drug of choice is a glass of chardonnay, there were moments during the show that I felt like I had taken a delicious cocktail containing all of the above. There are many moments of wonderful trippiness.
First up though – the dance element of the show. Breakdance and body-popping are dance styles I've only ever been exposed to via short music clips. It's always seemed a novelty, a slightly freaky gimmick with a backdrop of jerky, thumping, shouty music.
But this is a full-blown, intricately choreographed dance performance showing these forms of dance in (for this writer) a whole new light. The dance in Pixel is real and pure dance; there is nothing gimicky about this performance. It's masculine, it's tricky, there is showmanship, there is strength and finesse... you've seen the head spins and the arm spins and the angular weirdness before, but not on this level. It's break-dancing, Jim, but not as we know it.
So what's different about it? Because the performance is longer than the music clips you might have been exposed to, you have the chance to appreciate the skill involved. Once you get used to it, you see it for having all the beauty of the best ballet.
You might see the word 'breakdance' and associate it with shitty 80s electro synth and drum pads, but here the music by Armand Amar is just dreamy. By turns orchestral, exciting, melancholic, whimsical... if there wasn't such magic going on up there onstage, you could easily close your eyes and drift of into the lushness of the music.
But the magic going on up there onstage... whoa.
Aside from the dance (I forgot to mention that there was the most amazing contortionist who at one stage did a duet with one of the break boys and it was one of the most wonderfully weird and playful modern dance sequences I have had the pleasure of seeing), there was the lighting trickery. This is where the trippiness comes into the thing. You will find yourself wondering what the hell is going on. Obviously it's all technology, but it may as well be magic. They somehow project light onto a... a sheet of magic and the performers interact with the light by... magic so that there's a kind of interactive dance between the dancers and the pixels of light. There are 3d effects that can only be described as... magic.
And it's all happening right there in real life in front of you.
I actually don't know how they achieved some of the visual effects that I saw. But I did love the marriage between technology (or magic, as I like to call it) and the raw and elegant physicality of the human body.
Reviewed by Lee Bemrose
My review request for Pixel went something like this:
“Hey Australian Stage – I'd really like to review this. It looks so trippy that I might not need to take any pre-show acid like I usually do.
Hahaha - joking. This show looks so trippy that it's SCREAMING for pre-show acid.
Joking again. My pre-show drug of choice is actually ecstasy.”
Although in reality my pre-show drug of choice is a glass of chardonnay, there were moments during the show that I felt like I had taken a delicious cocktail containing all of the above. There are many moments of wonderful trippiness.
First up though – the dance element of the show. Breakdance and body-popping are dance styles I've only ever been exposed to via short music clips. It's always seemed a novelty, a slightly freaky gimmick with a backdrop of jerky, thumping, shouty music.
But this is a full-blown, intricately choreographed dance performance showing these forms of dance in (for this writer) a whole new light. The dance in Pixel is real and pure dance; there is nothing gimicky about this performance. It's masculine, it's tricky, there is showmanship, there is strength and finesse... you've seen the head spins and the arm spins and the angular weirdness before, but not on this level. It's break-dancing, Jim, but not as we know it.
So what's different about it? Because the performance is longer than the music clips you might have been exposed to, you have the chance to appreciate the skill involved. Once you get used to it, you see it for having all the beauty of the best ballet.
You might see the word 'breakdance' and associate it with shitty 80s electro synth and drum pads, but here the music by Armand Amar is just dreamy. By turns orchestral, exciting, melancholic, whimsical... if there wasn't such magic going on up there onstage, you could easily close your eyes and drift of into the lushness of the music.
But the magic going on up there onstage... whoa.
Aside from the dance (I forgot to mention that there was the most amazing contortionist who at one stage did a duet with one of the break boys and it was one of the most wonderfully weird and playful modern dance sequences I have had the pleasure of seeing), there was the lighting trickery. This is where the trippiness comes into the thing. You will find yourself wondering what the hell is going on. Obviously it's all technology, but it may as well be magic. They somehow project light onto a... a sheet of magic and the performers interact with the light by... magic so that there's a kind of interactive dance between the dancers and the pixels of light. There are 3d effects that can only be described as... magic.
And it's all happening right there in real life in front of you.
I actually don't know how they achieved some of the visual effects that I saw. But I did love the marriage between technology (or magic, as I like to call it) and the raw and elegant physicality of the human body.
All
performers had their moments to shine. Even the roller skate guy and
the hoop guy, both of whom I also forgot to mention. Such masculine
elegance.
Artistic director, choreographer and all round magician Mourad Merzouki and his collaborators have produced the kind of performance that makes you think, if shows like this are being made now, what are they going to be doing in a few years' time?
Artistic director, choreographer and all round magician Mourad Merzouki and his collaborators have produced the kind of performance that makes you think, if shows like this are being made now, what are they going to be doing in a few years' time?
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