hi⋅a⋅tus [hahy-ey-tuhs]

–noun, plural -tus⋅es, -tus.

1. a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc.
2. a missing part; gap or lacuna: Scholars attempted to account for the hiatus in the medieval manuscript.

Now I taste jasmine on my tongue

Okay, so, it turns out my un-coordination is more then anecdotal. For all the smart asses out there, I know we’ve known that for a while, but right now I have a scabby knee and a blue and bloaty ankle as evidence. It’s a long story involving King Street and not looking where I was going and something that looked vaguely like cream cheese, but long story short I am hobbling and feeling decidedly sorry for myself.

This also has more then a bit to do with missing the Newcastle Mountain Goats show because of said ankle. I spent the majority of Saturday afternoon feeling sad, and then angry, and then frustrated, because I couldn’t stand let alone drive 2 hours up the coast. And given how AWESOME the show at Manning Bar was on the Friday night, I’d have given most anything to see them again.

Which is why I’m (we’re) contemplating a trip to Brisbane on Sunday. We’ll see.

I was careful with my expectations for Friday night. Given the mind-blowing greatness of the show last year at the Metro I wanted to give a little room for this one to fall short. And it did. Not by a long way, mind, but a combination of a good not great set list, John’s jet lag and also the LENGTH of the set, meant it just didn’t quite get there on the level of awesome.

I will say this though – there is no more generous performer on earth then John Darnielle. He just throws all he has into his performance, and he’s so endearing and engaging and I don’t know – I could just listen to him rabbit on for hours. And that’s not even mentioning the songs.

Set list and wonderful review here.

I haven’t managed to find a set list from the Newcastle show yet, but in a way that’s probably a good thing. If he played anything from the Coroners Gambit I’m likely to throw a very unattractive tantrum.

What I DID manage to find today was a set list from a DiFranco show on 29/11. And I am EXCITED. Plenty of brand new stuff, a decent amount from Red Letter Year (which I really like) and also some older stuff I’d love to hear any time any where. Like Back Back Back and Overlap. And she opened with FUEL – I live in fear that she won’t perform any spoken word at all and this reignites some hope in me. I love that track so much.

I was listening to School Night today (while working from home – probably the one good outcome from my inability to walk along a street without hurting myself) and that song is such a perfect illustration of what an amazing lyricist she is. No one writes metaphor like she does – there are some lyricists that write direct, scathing lyrics (thank you JD) and some who write with sweeping imagery that you struggle to fully keep up with (Spencer Krug I’m looking at you), but no one writes metaphor like Ani. FACT.

What of the mother
whose house is in flames,
and both of her children
are in their beds crying
She loves them both
with the whole of her heart
but she knows she can only
carry one at a time?
She’s choking on the smoke
of unthinkable choices
She is haunted by the voices
of so many desires
She’s bent over from the business
of begging forgiveness
while frantically running around
putting out fires

But then what kind of scale
compares the weight of two beauties
The gravity of duties
or the ground speed of joy?
Tell me what kind of gauge
can quantify elation
What kind of equation
could I possibly employ?

Things I’ve come to realise since moving to Newtown:

• I never really belonged in Windsor. Or Wagga. My new neighborhood feels comfy already and I’ve barely moved in.
• I kinda really like the new TV on the Radio album.
• Walls can be Very Serious Business.
• The M5 is just as busy from 6:30AM to 7:30AM as it is from 7:30AM to 8:30AM.
• Ditto the M7.
• There are not enough hours in each day to do everything ones wants to do. Well, this one. Like work and driving home from work and cooking and eating dinner and watching The Daily Show and showering and playing with the cat and talking to and/or hugging the boy and doing washing and/or washing up and talking to my mum on the phone and going for a walk and fucking around on the interwebs. I reckon if I could have another, I don’t know, 6 hours a day I’d be sweet. Or maybe 8. Yeah. 8 would probably be enough.
• Sometimes when you search your wee brain and you think there might be nothing, there’s actually something. Buried way down deep below there is something, and all it needs is a push and it’ll find its way out.
• I shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying life the way I’m enjoying it now. I am happier then I have ever been in my whole entire life, and it isn’t to do with any one thing in particular, but it’s more about finding a place where I FIT like I’ve never fit before. And not in any one sense. In every single sense. And I should feel like I deserve it.
• I also shouldn’t feel bad for losing myself in it utterly and completely. At least for a little while. Those emails and texts from people insinuating I might have fallen off the edge of the earth are slowly starting to be answered. I’ll get there eventually. I’m just reveling now is all.
• Hooray for housewarming parties!
• There can never be enough sleep.
• Sleep now.

A gentleman and an artist

I’d like the first post from blog HQ here in Newtown to be one of massive joy and hope and promise, because really, there’s so much of all of those things. But tonight I am sad. Today James Gleeson passed away.

I didn’t know the man but I know what his work means to me. He further opened my eyes to the almost indecipherable blur between dream and reality, and helped me to realise that you should stay the course always, and stay true to yourself, and people would eventually come to understand you. Or at least to humour you.

An hour ago his Wikipedia entry wrote about what he does. Now it writes about what he did. That makes me feel sad too.

Today the world lost a great man and an artistic genius and it’s a great loss indeed.


This time the non-posting was not my fault. Honest. It was the fault of the crappiest web hosting company that ever crapped. And I posted YESTERDAY and now the post is GONE, and, well, I don’t know.


I shouldn’t be posting this. I should be vacuuming. Because I have around 100 potential renters coming through this house tomorrow and every surface is covered in a combination of cat hair and dust bunnies.

How far is too far to fly for a Mountain Goats gig?

Also – kittens + Spoon = gold.

5 6 seven

So, I was tagged by Oz at Decomposing Trees. I’m not very good at answering tags, usually, or for that matter accepting Facebook requests. Or answering emails. Or text messages, actually.

ANYHOO I am doing this one. It WAS back on August 6 (sorry Oz) but better late then never, right?

So – seven songs I’m digging right now.

Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy – Glory Goes

I have a Will Oldham post building up inside of me. The music of this man has come to mean more to me then I fully expected. This song is everything wonderful about Oldham’s music for me – it’s just so honest. The steady violin behind the melody is wonderful, and the lyric ‘you sing me back into myself’ feels like home.

Frightened Rabbit – Keep Yourself Warm

I could have mentioned maybe 6 other songs on this album. Potentially my album of the year. And for anyone playing along at home, YES there was a MOUNTAIN GOATS release this year. So you understand the gravity of that statement, right? Anyway, this song (apart from the lyrics, because it’s always about the lyrics) is about the organ opening, but more so about 3:48 into the song. Go listen. Right away.

Mount Eerie with Julie Doiron & Fred Squire – Flaming Home

So, a girl has a shitty day, within a shitty week, and suggest dinner with the one person in the world that feels like sanity to her. There’s an evening of talking and sorting and naan bread. And then, standing on the footpath outside of the restaurant, before she heads back to the car and out to the Windsor Wilderness, he puts headphones on her head to play her a song. Phil Everum pours into her ears and suddenly the whole week, nay, the whole WORLD, is wonderful.

The Microphones – I Felt Your Shape

I’m a girl in love. And I reckon this song was written for girls in love. So, there you have it.

The Mountain Goats and Kaki King – Thank You Mario But Our Princess Is In Another Castle

There had to be a Mountain Goats song, right? This one is brand spanking new, and was put up on Pitchfork last week. Lookie here. It’s a beautiful little song about love and Super Nintendo. Only John Darnielle, right? I love this song for the gentle, shuffling percussion from Ms King, and also the lyric ‘when you came in, I could breathe again.’ Beautiful.

Ani DiFranco – Pulse

Ani is a poet. I know she studied poetry pretty early on and a lot of her work is spoken word, and I really think that these tracks are often underrated on her albums. I know a lot of people skip them, but as I feel myself growing out of her music, I feel myself growing into these poems. This one is an old one, but some of the imagery in the words completely knocks me out. I mean –

We lie in our beds and in our graves,
Unable to save ourselves
From the quaint tragedies we invent, and undo
From the stupid circumstances we slalom through

And I realized that night that the hall light,
Which seemed so bright when you turned it on,
Is nothing compared to the dawn
Which is nothing,
Compared to the light which seeps from you while you’re sleeping
Cocooned in my room,
Beautiful and grotesque,
That night we got kicked out of two bars and laughed our way home

That bit about the hall light makes me catch my breath every single time.

Neutral Milk Hotel – Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone

This song will always be on these lists for me. The reasons I love it are more animal then explainable.

I just want to dance in your tangles
To give me some reason to move

Tangle might be my favourite word in the English language.

You’ve been here before

The last 3 months have easily been the most professionally challenging of my life. The fact that it’s coinciding with me (and the boy) purchasing my first house, is making for somewhat interesting times. Somehow, though, it’s okay. So far. There was a hairy moment at around 11 this morning when Sam had to slowly take the client file from my hands and repeatedly tell me to calm down, but otherwise sanity remains intact.

Sort of.

Mount Eerie helps. My cat helps. The constant support of the boy is, well, everything else. And the thought of that little house lying maybe 50kms away, waiting for us to live in it. That kinda pulls me through every single day.

Dear Glenn,

So I’ve heard your new song maybe 5 or 6 times now. I’d really love to say that I love it. I’d really love to say I like it, even. But I can’t. Which makes me sad.

Here’s the thing – there are two reasons why I LOVE Augie March. First – few people in the world write an old-fashioned ballad the way that you do. When I listen to There Is No Such Place or Bottle Baby I swoon. It’s music for swooning. Second – your uproarious songs – you know, the ones where the whole band is playing and you shout at the top of your lungs – have some of my favourite OMFG moments in music. Australian music at least. Songs like Song In The Key Of Chance and One Crowded Hour build and build until you think your head might explode.

Oh oh oh and there’s a third. Third, the lyrics. You write god damn amazing lyrics Glenn.

And there-in lies the issue. The song starts at a medium pace, and finishes at a medium pace. The articulation of the lyrics is a little weird dude. Actually, no, not weird – a little mediocre. Like, I could hear this on commercial radio and not blink. And holy hell, it scars me on the inside to say that. Also, with all that weird synth stuff happening all around the song, I cannot even make out the lyrics. I tried very, very hard tonight, driving home from work, to hear what you were singing. And I’m not sure if it was just my toast-brain from my fucked up day, but I was really truly struggling.

So yeah. Not so much love. I will though, like any good CFG, buy your new album next month. I am also going to your show at the Metro. Because I haven’t given up on you yet. You wrote every single song on Strange Bird and for that I will love you forever.

See you soon.