You or your memory

I wish I wasn’t so tired. Then I could stay up and watch the fairly kickass line-up on Rage tonight. I just saw a film clip for The Greenhornes (Pattern Skies to be precise) and it was okay – a little blah but pretty inoffensive. They’re supporting the White Stripes on the 25th, so I was curious. If we want seats we’ll need to get there early, so I guess we might see their whole set.

When I sit down to write a post for this thing I ought to not log in first. When I do I usually spend ridiculous amounts of time talking to people online or reading music forums. And then I don’t get any of my washing done. And really, I’ve been staring at computer screens for the majority of the day, so I should give my poor eyes a rest.

Having just seen the film clip for Juicebox I’m disturbingly attracted to the lead singer of the Strokes. He has the most amazingly soulful eyes. The lead guitarist, though, really needs to do something with his hair. Someone should write him a letter.

I’ve been a little uneasy tonight. It could be something to do with knowing I still have a veritable fuck load to get done at work tomorrow (even after leaving at 8PM tonight) or, it could be the worry I was feeling for a certain person. While it’s amazing and kinda humbling to be that in tune with someone, it also makes me a little anxious. Still, she gets it too so I guess it all balances out 😛 And I’m somewhat reassured that things are okay, so I can at least go to bed knowing that.

Until this afternoon I had no plans at all for the weekend. Now I’m going out to see a movie with Angela tomorrow night, which should be fun. I can’t remember the last time I went to see a movie in a theatre – if I thought hard enough I probably could. Actually, it was probably with Angela when we went to see that Kevin Costner movie with all the really attractive women in it. Or, maybe it was Out Foxed with Alan. Anyway, it’s been a while and it should be good. And we’re going first to the Chinese restaurant with the free port, so that rocks.

Today I saw Nan’s house on a real estate website with the tagline ‘Renovate, Detonate, Celebrate!’ That made me sad. I mean, FUCK. She lived in that house for 40 years. That house was a refuge for me for a lot of years, and because she was there it felt a little like home. It always smelt of banana cake and you couldn’t see the furniture for the crochet. Like I said in the eulogy, it was a safe haven and a constant in a life that is forever changing. Nothing in life is stable – everything, even the most concrete, stable things, can be taken away. I’m not one to get emotionally or sentimentally attached to things like houses, but I can’t help feeling a little empty on the inside that I’m losing this. It’s almost like we’ll lose a part of her.

I’m terrified it will all be whittled away until there is nothing left.

The true story of what was

We have some wild and crazy weather here tonight. The wind is frantic and the sky, earlier, was an impressive shade of deep purple. Chances are, in weather like this, the whole of Wilberforce will lose power. Tonight was no exception.

I find it a little odd that my first reaction when the power went out was one of relief. It’s a strange feeling to be the first one to present itself in a situation like that. But it’s like when you have your hair in a pony tail, and you walk around all day with the hint of a headache, not really knowing what the problem is but knowing that something doesn’t feel right. Then you get home that afternoon and take your hair out, and the lightness and relief you feel are palpable.

Well, this evening when the white noise stopped it was just the same feeling.

You don’t realise how much white noise there actually is until it’s gone. And silence, TRUE silence, can at times be more deafening than any constant noise. And more reassuring somehow. As a rule, when the power goes out I pull out my iPod, hit the shuffle button, and close my eyes until the power comes back on. Tonight though I just sat on the couch and watched the room get darker. It’s scary how much you can think about when you have no other distractions, and truly amazing how convoluted your thinking can get. I found myself so deep in thought that I made myself a little uncomfortable with how candid it all was. And I think that, in itself, is a good thing. I was almost annoyed when the power came back on and interrupted my thought train.

One of the things I thought about (remembered?) was my friend Skye from school. We were best friends pretty much from Year 1 through until Year 10, bar a period in Year 6 when a new girl started at South Wagga and she was more interesting to Skye for a period of about 2 months. Thing is, in the friend to friend relationship we had she was by far the dominant party. In a lot of ways that was okay with me, because I’m (even as a kid) pretty easy going and as a rule happy to sit back and let someone else make the calls.

She was very bossy though, and at times could be cutting to the point of mean. In retrospect I know it was all insecurity, and as much to do with her mother making her feel like crap about herself then anything I was doing. She was actually, other than her friendship with me, generally unliked. She was awkward and projected a distain for the world and everyone in it. For some reason I dug that (and continue with the pattern somewhat in the people I have chosen to be in long term relationships with, but that’s a whoooooole other thought pattern for a whole other night).

One day though, when we were both in Year 10, she said something which really got my back up. Funny thing is, while I can remember the scene and situation vividly to this day, I can’t for the life of me remember what she said. What I said to her in response though was ‘Skye, it’s no wonder you have no friends’. She stopped dead in her tracks, looking straight ahead of her, and then walked away without looking back. Little was I to know at that point in time what that comment would unleash.

From that moment on she ceased all communication with me. I tried being angry. I tried being funny. I tried apologising and begging for forgiveness (even though that one comment was no comparison to the 10 + stings I regularly got from her every day). I tried going through other friends and I tried calling her on how ridiculous and childish it was. Nothing worked and gradually I stopped trying.

From the very next day though things weren’t right. Other friends stopped talking to me for no apparent reason. One mutual friend of ours bailed me up on the front lawn of the school and bought up a comment that I had said to Skye about her months beforehand when she stayed at my house one night. Girls talk, too much, about their friends and the people at school etc. They say mean things, and I was not an exception to this rule, particularly when Skye was around. What I found was that each and every thing I had said to my friend during our time together about every person we knew had systematically been spread to the person it was regarding. And what happened from that point, to a 15 year old girl, was the worst possible thing that could happen. I found myself with no friends.

It was genius, really, and it took some amazing amount of bitterness and dedication on her part to pull it off. And it wasn’t just school. She did the same thing where we took riding lessons, only there she had to be a little more inventive with the stories. I was upset and confused and actually, for the first couple of months, too stupid to realise what was happening. Then when the realisation finally hit me, and I had no friends at all either at school or outside of it, some sort of resignation came over me and I realised there was no point in trying to combat it. That was when I started going to Nan’s place at lunch, and also when I started listening to music during recess and before school.

Eventually, though, in a matter of months I made different friends. Mitch came and sat next to me in maths and he was my saviour right throughout my senior years of school (even though I had a massive crush on him all the way through Year 11). Carla eventually, because she was a pretty straight up sort of girl, decided it was all a bit silly and started talking to me again. Adam and Peter, who were really only on the peripheral of the group I hung out with, became very good friends (at least through school, thereafter things got a bit complicated). I got the loan of a horse and changed from a riding school to pony club and made a whole heap of new friends there. Still, the sting of what happened, the horror of finding myself absolutely friendless in the minefield of school, is still as vivid in my mind today as it was 13 years ago.

And interestingly enough she realised after some time what she had done. In Year 12 she travelled to the USA on a Rotary exchange (I would guess to get away from her mother) and came back 6 months later. Pretty much the week she got back she called me and asked if I’d like to go shopping or something. It was odd, not having spoken to her for so many years, and considering the manner in which we had last spoken, that she thought she could just phone up and do that. I was curious though, and a lot surer of myself as a person, so we went shopping. And it was okay, and she tried hard, but ultimately at the end of it all I really didn’t want to be friends with her. The next couple of times she called I declined the offer, and she stopped calling. I know she realises what happened, and know she probably feels some small amount of regret, but I figure we all learn from these things.

What I learnt is that you need to be honest with the people closest to you. Its futile saying stupid little things about someone behind their back if A) you don’t really mean them and B) you wouldn’t say to them straight up to their face anyway. Friendship is too important, the people you love are too important. And there’s a relief that comes from being straight up like that – if you don’t say anything you want to hide or that you’re ashamed of, you’re not always watching your back.

I’m not infallible though – I’m still working on it.

And perhaps this whole thing with Skye is why I have found myself, since then, making friends with guys more easily than girls? Who knows.

WHEE this got away from me. See – this is what happens when I’m left alone with no distractions. God only knows what would happen if I were ever put in solitary confinement. I would become one of those crazy people who talk to themselves. Oh wait, hang on???

Random randomness

I just turned the television on, because I had nothing better to do (and, well, I’m procrastinating) and really I shouldn’t have bothered. I can’t believe the crap that’s on. Perhaps it’s because it’s still non ratings season? I think it probably has more to do with the fact that most of it is just crap. So now I have the Flaming Lips on and it’s a marked improvement.

I’ve spent the last couple of nights making mix CD’s. I find it a lot more fun making them for other people, but a lot more challenging too. Deciding the content is one thing – you need to be sure the lyrics are right, and the mood of the song is right. Also, though, you need to put them in the right order. I think that right there is the most important thing. It’s also the thing I spend hours agonising over. I mean, you can’t very well have a track like The Fly starting a mix CD – all up and in your face like that. You have to start out enticing the listener in, giving them just enough to want to hear more. Setting them up for the mood of the CD and also giving them a taste of what’s to come. Then, you build into the more upbeat stuff, hit them 2 thirds of the way through (once they’re committed) with the more obscure stuff you’re only really hoping they’ll dig, and then finish up with something sublimely beautiful that is a summation of everything you’ve been trying to achieve. And when you get it right its poetry. And if the person digs it (or says to you HEY that Eels song was nifty, have you got any more stuff of theirs?) then it all becomes worth it.

I ought to start playing the guitar again. I see it sitting there every night and think, yep, ought to pick it up. Part of me knows though it’s going to suck getting the calluses back, and part of me is apathetic because there’s really no reason to pick it up. Hellen and I should jam again soon, that would be a reason. Also, perhaps I could find some Mountain Goats tab online and I can muck about with that.

Those evil-natured robots
They’re programmed to destroy us
She’s gotta be strong to fight them
So she’s taking lots of vitamins

Oh Yoshimi, they don’t believe me
But you won’t let those robots defeat me
Yoshimi, they don’t believe me
But you won’t let those robots eat me

AHAHAHA I love this shit.

I actually left work just after 5 today. It was a bit of a revelation for me, and I got home and sort of didn’t know what to do with myself. So, instead of cleaning up, I pulled all my art shit out of the cupboard and made more mess. Mucking about with oil pastels though was a lot of fun, and now my fingers are dirty and smell really good – like linseed. I really should paint again.

Shoulda coulda woulda 😉

My head is a bit random this evening. Hellen has been texting me about toast and bird flu and that makes me smile. Having the modem plugged in is a bit of a relief because it means the phone can’t ring. It’s been a little mad tonight with the people phoning – Angela and Mum and some charity and then an irate client on the mobile. I love those calls. ESPECIALLY AT 7:30 WHEN I’M AT HOME. Fuckers.

I love 20/20 cricket. Last night was so much fun – I was home on my own but I was jumping up and down, and cheering, and covering my eyes, and swearing at Shaun Pollock and generally making an idiot of myself. I’m worried though about what it will do to the game. People loved it, you could tell – the crowd was into it and Ian Healy nearly wet himself while he was commentating. But it might make the other forms of the game less popular, you know? ODI’s sorta did that to test cricket. People want the excitement of a boundary or a six from every second ball, and they want frantic running between the wickets and a wicket falling every 2 overs. It’s the same old thing though – we get more and more stimulation until nothing is enough anymore. We need 25 things going at once or we’re bored.

I hope people don’t lose sight of the greatness of test cricket, that’s all. Someone from the US said to me once – how can you watch the same game for 5 days and not completely want to poke yourself in the eye with something sharp? It’s like foreplay though – the longer it’s drawn out and the closer each team is, the more explosively satisfying it is in the end.

It’s hot again. Most people around me right now were bitching about the rain, but I’m sure now that the sun is shining and its QLD level humidity outside they thinking the rain wasn’t so bad after all.

Oh and I KNOW I was pleading with whatever (the sleep gods?) to dream of anything else but bugs and strange men etc., but the sex dreams concerning an ex are a sick joke. Really. They need to stop now because I’m almost too scared to go to bed K? K. Thanks.

Monday I got Friday on my mind

Weekends go way too quickly.

It’s a beautiful night tonight – enough chill in the air for flanelette pyjama pants but warm enough for no shoes. And it’s the weirdest thing – it’s overcast, but there’s one great big hole in the clouds right above the house. The stars are glorious.

Last night was fun. I was stone cold sober, owing to the Flu of Justice, and I didn’t stay (which felt kinda weird), but it was good fun anyway. Happy birthday Mr T.

Oh, and Chris Cornell is HOT.

That is all.


Last week I bought a Klimt calendar for here at home. I’ve always loved the work of Klimt, but my favourite painting of his is ‘Danae’.

Beautiful. I love that he found volumptuous redheaded women sexy enough to paint. I have to wait till October for Danae though, which kinda bites.

Here comes the sun

AHA! 6 whole hours of sleep. AND it was sleep without menacing strangers, insects, arachnids and/or missing and mutilated people. All I dreamt about was Home and Away (which is interesting, because I don’t think I’ve watched the show in a lot of years) and forgetting to pay the mechanic when he serviced my car.

And today the sun is brighter, my head feels lighter, and orange juice tastes better.

Things are looking up.

Who listens to the radio?

Dear Adam,

So I heard the news this week that you’re starting the breakfast shift with 702 ABC Sydney this month. I wake up listening to 702 every morning, and the idea of waking up to your voice once again makes my heart go pitter pat.

Your witty mathematical humour, your biting political satire, your inner geek and your wonky eye have held me transfixed for some years now. I am, however, doomed to a life of unrequited love due to your girl and your baby.

Don’t worry, I’ve stopped stalking you, and I’ve told my friend Hellen to not keep you bound up in her house any more. From now on I’ll keep it to admiring from a distance and creepy letters.

The reason I’m writing is this – please don’t let those anally retentive ABC listeners break you. This shift seems to be cursed and they chew through breakfast announcers like a beaver. The callers can be scathing, and most of them have never heard someone use the word ‘dude’ in a sentence before.

STAY THE COURSE Adam – they will come to love you like I do.

Yours in unabated admiration,


It’s time to play the music…

1. Categorising what comes out of my head is really tough. I think I just sort of debunk the idea of categories – I hate the idea that my thoughts can fit neatly in boxes. I think, though, for organisational purposes they might be a good idea.

2. Tonight the weather outside is getting rough, but it kinda suits my mood. I’m feeling rather fierce tonight.

2. I can’t get the theme to the Muppet Show out of my head. It’s time to put on makeup, it’s time to dress up right???

3. New yellow office paint + too much fluorescent lighting = feeling like you’re working on a landing strip. I’m doomed to squint 5 days a week from here on in, unless I wear sunglasses. And really, people who wear sunglasses inside are just wankers.

4. What is it about people liking Belle and Sebastian? They have some obsessive fan action going on. If this were an open music forum, I know I’d get flamed, but to me it all just seems so samey and derivative. And if singing about frogs is the best they can do for their new single, then they’re in some trouble.

5. On the other hand, I’ve paid out Death Cab for Cutie before and I LOVE their song Soul Meets Body.

I cannot guess what we’ll discover
We turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another’s
And not one speck will remain

I do believe it’s true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too

So brown eyes I hold you near
Cause you’re the only song I want to hear
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Sigh. If I find one more Death Cab song that I like I may have to stop hanging shit on them.

6. Lack of sleep can actually make you delirious. They say sleep deprivation can be an effective form of torture. If you have a day job that requires some form of concentration (or, I would imagine, operating heavy machinery) then I’m inclined to agree. I must look like hell, because I was told at 4PM today to go home.

7. Someone shared something with me today that was meant for someone else, and that was very close to their heart. It’s a double edged sword, these things – my heart bursts with happiness and even some relief to see two people making it work like they are, but on the other hand it brings up longing that I keep pretty well buried. It’s been a loooong time since I’ve felt even giddy over another person, and I kinda miss it. Well, in the weak I’ve-got-the-flu-and-have-had-no-sleep moments I miss it.

8. IT’S MOTHER FUCKING FRIDAY!^@%!%^ And I couldn’t be happier about that.


I wonder – when do you stop ignoring your subconscious and admit it might know something you don’t? They say your fears manifest themselves in your subconscious during sleep. If that’s the case, I am one big fat scaredy cat. During the day I’m fine, but at night my mind is kicking and screaming. It alternates between plain weird and terrifying.

I figure it’s either my mind not being active enough during the day (which, with my job being the way it is right now, is highly unlikely) or I’m the master of kidding myself.

I just want to sleep. And really, having the flu is not the way I envisaged starting this year. But I was saying to Hellen this morning – all the crappy stuff is getting out of the way EARLY this year, in light of the next 12 months fully kicking ass.

No, really!

My head explodes and my body aches

So I figured out why I was so ratty yesterday. Sore throat, achy bones, throbbing head, itchy eyes???

I think I’ve got the plague.

In other news, I had possibly the weirdest night sleep ever last night. And for me, perhaps The Weirdest Sleeper in the World, that’s really something. I was laying in bed, just before trying to drift off, when my mind had me convinced I was back in my old bedroom in Wagga. In the almost complete darkness of my current bedroom the shapes I was making out were from my old room – the two old wardrobes along the wall facing my bed, the stereo on top of them to the far left, the CD’s stacked on top of that, the mobile hanging from the top of the unfinished inbuilt cupboard, the uni wall planner on the back of the door, the book case to the left with the fish tank on top of it. I was even remembering the order of the books in the book case, the clothes falling out of the ajar wardrobe door (because they always were) and exactly where that join in the carpet was. I could even SMELL the room, hear Nathan snoring next door, and hear the TV on in the lounge room because Mum and Dad hadn’t gone to bed yet. I’m a big day dreamer, my head is always somewhere else, but I always try to make sure I keep some grip on reality. Last night though I completely succumbed to the whole thing, and by the time I came to I was a little freaked out. It was almost like I was physically transported.

I hadn’t thought about that room in a lot of years. Also, I have no reason at all to want to go back there – I feel happier right now than I have in a long time. But when I actually convinced myself I was in Wilberforce, not Wagga, on my own in my own bed, I felt a kind of sadness. I knew then that I couldn’t just walk up the hall to company, and that my parents were indeed still separated, and my brother is still living in Albury with his wife. Within a period of about 15 seconds I felt the sickening impact of all that change all at once. It was one of the most bizarre things I have ever experienced.

I got maybe 2 hours of broken sleep last night. I’m hoping tonight my plague ridden body will just fall into a coma and I will wake up tomorrow not remembering anything from my sleep the night before. That would be a first in a long time.

Also, I’ve decided I will wake up tomorrow and all this sick I’m feeling will be gone. Mind over matter, right?’