That one about the blackbird

There are few things in this world that excite me as much as finding interviews with John Darnielle that I haven’t read yet. The man is seriously one of the most honest, articulate and intelligent people you’ll ever come across. And unselfconscious. I know that I am CFG plus plus about this man and his band, but even if you aren’t, these two interviews are definitely worth reading.

Here he talks about crushing on indie girls.

Here he talks about marriage, porn and other random stuffs.

He is without a doubt number 1 on the list of people I would love the chance to meet.

You know

I had so many plans for tonight. And then the damn phone wouldn’t stop ringing. At least I can stop feeling bad about not calling Dad now – he tracked ME down. And we managed an actual conversation (i.e. me talking, him actually responding) for at least 20 minutes. This is a good thing.

And now I have to go to bed. Because I am steadfastly ignoring my screaming throat and throbbing head.

G’night y’all.

Because I am a joyful girl

I’m a domestic disaster area tonight. When I got home I decided to do the housework type things – well and truly get them out of the way – before the week starts. Things like washing and ironing (bleh) and changing the towels. Only tonight I succeed (in this order) to flood the kitchen, break a drawer, burn a finger and knock myself out on a cupboard door.

I think the universe is telling me I’m not some sort of domestic goddess. Note to universe: this is not news to me.

Last week had a very weird mojo about it. It could have been due to having two 3 day weekends sandwiching a 3 day working week. You’d think this would help the good mojo though, right? But last week everyone and everything was a little left of normal. The insane were relatively sane, and some people I rely on to be sane felt like they were a little out beyond it all, just outside of my reach.

It’s like that with people sometimes. It’s one of the most intensely frustrating things there is – particularly with people very close to you. You feel like you’re reaching and grasping and chasing all the time and all you’re getting is fistfuls of thin air. And it’s a truly vulnerable place to be in – particularly when the person is one of your people and so as a result there is a lot at stake. You wonder what you might have done or said or not done or not said, and you start to think that perhaps this person being outside of your inner circle has come to be the Way Of Things. And sometimes that’s just what happens. People stay outside of your grasp, or move into someone else’s. And sometimes you gotta let them slip away.

And then there are the people who are just there. Every time you reach out to them, metaphorically, or via email, or literally in the night, there they are. And not only are they there, but they come back at you and envelop you and reciprocate in a way that on one hand is a completely new experience and on the other feels like it was there all along.

Is there a better word in the world than joy? I was thinking this tonight, driving around the city. I was driving around the city because I got lost. I got lost because I decided in my infinite (well, Sunday afternoon) wisdom to head home via Castle Hill rather than the M5. Because I needed wool. And well, that’s a whole other story, but while I was driving I got to thinking about joy and all its forms and the word generally. I’m not sure it’s a tangible thing. Like, something you can put your finger on or point to or illustrate. I think it’s just an overall inner sunshine – something that bursts from within you that you can’t contain. Joy should be the kind of emotion that bursts, don’t you think?

I got joy joy joy in my soul tonight.


Dear Indie Rock Universe,

You clearly got my message. I’d like to speak on behalf of all the crazyfangirls and boys in the general area of Austraya and say THANK YOU.

The National AND the Arcade Fire confirming they’re both coming early next year within a period of less than a week?

Hell YES.

Forever yours, and currently in your debt,


P.S. Could you have a word to Sufjan? THX.

Dear blogosphere,

Still here. Currently cleaning for house inspection. Weekends wonderful, work weeks FUCKING ARGH.

Do you think it matters that there are cat nose prints all over the back sliding door?

Yours in absent love,


Dear Ro (and anyone else who might care),

You want to know where to find the perfect shoulder bags? Berrima! That’s where. I found the most perfect soft dark brown leather shoulder bag on Sunday in a gift/knick knack/arty farty shop in BERRIMA of all places. And I love it. I can’t stop touching and/or smelling it.

You were so right about the good ones coming when you stop looking and/or you least expect it.

So the hunt is over. I will just have to buy something fabulously frivolous in Melbourne instead. Or some CDs. But that’s kind of a given.

Much love,


Dear Facebook,

I’m on to you and your conspiratorial ways.

Uh huh,


Dear Karen,

Go to bed.

Annoyingly yours,