I was going to post another song tonight. As a part of the whole ‘Song’ thing. But then I started, with some help, mucking about the with look of the place. I like this, but I don’t know enough about HTML to sort out that left hand menu over there. And I’m not really happy with A) what’s listed there and B) what’s NOT listed there. So we’ll see how we go with that. Or, more accurately, we’ll see how AL goes with that 😉

I’m going to have to leave it now and go to bed though. It’s gettin’ late, and it’s a school night. Wow I sound old. Aha.

I DID, however, have a fabulously fabulous day. I think all weeks should be 4 day weeks. It would make the whole work thing a fuckton easier to deal with. Walking and talking and immersing myself in characters in a darkened theatre and walking and talking has left my mind clear as bell.

You know, one really shouldn’t underestimate the mental cleansing power of good conversation.

And I haven’t really written about the election yet. And I’m not sure I will. Suffice to say that I have more hope for the future than I have had for some time now. I feel humanity and idealism filtering back. And real sense of change. And it’s been a really long time since I’ve felt any of that in the government of this country or in the media. And you know what? People forget about humanity in government. It’s something that has not only been lacking in recent years – it has been completely non-existent. I’m not sure how any policy, economic or otherwise, can be right if it’s not working for the greater good of the people. You concentrate only on figures on a page, and you lose site of what it is you’re working for in the first place.

As Mr Bird said, just don’t let the human factor fail to be a factor at all.

Oh and tonight, catching up with Hell and Tony, felt a little like coming back to base. A lot has changed in the last 12 months, in really wonderful ways, but at times if feels like certain things have been left behind. Tonight I feel like somehow it caught up a little.

Anyway I was going to bed.

Mmm. Foot.

So, because I got distracted tonight and didn’t finish the post I was writing, here is a picture of the cat. A pretty recent one, too. See how all grown up he is? He isn’t always munging down on his feet, by the way. And I have much better photos of him than this. It’s just that this one has much more entertainment value owing to A) the literal foot in mouth and B) the ‘I am possessed by Satan’ eye thing he’s got going on.

Eventually our theories couldn’t explain it all

Joy is wanting something chocolate-like, vocally lamenting (to myself, really, because there’s no one else other than the cat here) that there’s nothing remotely resembling that in the house, and them stumbling across half a block of forgotten Ukrainian chocolate in the back of the fridge. I really ought to clean it out.

I think it’s human nature to assume that eventually you’re going to hit a wall. What I mean by that is that nothing can be wonderful forever, right? Not all around, overall wonderful. You can go through periods with anything where it’s all puppies and ponies and rainbows, but there’s always part of you on the inside waiting for the dark clouds to descend.

But what if they don’t? What if something just remains persistently wonderful. And not only that, but seemingly gets better, in the words of Dan Boeckner, all the time. It seems, in my case at least, that at a certain point you kinda loose the angst about hitting that wall. You relax about it a little, because maybe things CAN be this easy. Maybe things can remain truly good. Which is not to say it will always be puppies and ponies, but there’s a real chance that it will remain all around, overall wonderful. In the grand scheme of things.

It’s honestly the most lovely feeling. And right now it’s kinda bursting out from the inside of me.

Today, from Recycled Records in Glebe, I picked up a copy of Like I Said – one of the very early DiFranco albums. I’m not going to go into what this woman’s music means to me, because I’ve done that post again and again on this here blog. I don’t really listen to her music a great deal any more though. It’s hard to find time for well-worn favourites when you have new music from Beirut or Two Gallants or you’ve just fallen in love with Okkervil River and you really must obsessively listen to every single song you can, repeatedly. Today, though, Like I Said was there and was only 16 bucks, and well, it’s a hole in my fairly substantial DiFranco collection so I filled it.

Driving home this afternoon listening to this album was like slipping on an old pair of socks. Her music to me is strength – at least, I found strength inside of myself through her music at a time I was desperate for it. And while I don’t find it as musically jolting as I once did, I can still appreciate her amazingly bold and inspiring lyrics. You don’t need to look further than the song Both Hands really, which is the first song off her very first album, and appears plus strings on Like I Said –

I am watching your chest rise and fall
Like the tides of my life and the rest of it all
And your bones have been my bed frame
And your flesh has been my pillow
I’ve been waiting for sleep
To offer up the deed with both hands

Sigh. I mean, how can you listen to a line like ‘I am writing graffiti on your body, I am drawing the story of how hard we tried’ without audibly exhaling?

Anyway, I’m a little exhausted but a lot happy tonight. Total immersion in something other than work was exactly what I needed to shed the shit of the week. This week will be a little complicated, but a day off on Wednesday hopefully means it will go super fast.


GOODBYE to the suckiest week that ever sucked.

HELLO to a wonderful weekend full of Good Things.

I hope you’re all, whatever you’re up to, up in it to your necks. One must experience things to the absolute end, don’t you think? A life without passion is no life at all.

And the fact that I am still able to think like this after the week I’ve had is a minor miracle.

Catch you all on the flip side 😉


I live in a bit of a suburban wasteland. Actually, that’s a pretty unkind description, but it’s reasonably accurate. I live on a culesac, at the end of street full of 3 bedroom, brick veneer houses. The one at the top of the street has a pool, and the house 3 doors up has just extended up by building a second floor. The family across the road has two kids and a dog, and Fred next door (who, judging by his accent, is originally from Eastern Europe somewhere) is always outside watering his lawn when I leave for work at around 8 in the AM. It’s nice. There’s also something a little disconcerting about it. Part of the girlescapedfromWagga inside of me wants to hate it.

And I don’t. Hate it that is. There’s just a slight disconnect in me when it comes to the suburban living situation. I had exactly the same feeling when I was in Canberra this weekend. I swear to god, that place is like one big suburban back yard. Only without the pushed over bikes, sun-faded basketballs and worn out lawn from the slip n slide. It’s far too tidy for any of that. I can’t quite decide if it’s clean or sterile. The first couple of times I visited the city I went with sterile, but I saw more of the city this time. I’m not completely convinced, but right now I’m going with clean.

And where are the people? Like, the milling-about type people? Maybe they were in the Canberra Centre or around abouts that area. They certainly weren’t where we were. Which was mainly the gallery and driving along Northbourne and around Civic and ANU and what have you. Although, there were a lot of people around in Dickson when we went there for dinner, so I’m probably not being fair. And the queue in front of me when I went to check out of the hotel was at least 4 people deep. But really, everywhere we went was just this vast expanse of either park or bush. It felt a bit odd.

And you have to drive everywhere. Just like here. I mean, we saw bus stops. But I think we saw one bus in total. But the place is so spread out. You couldn’t really just go ‘oh I might go for a stroll down to the shops’. At least, not in the suburbs I was in.

And this is not hate mail to the city by the way. We had a really awesome weekend.

My experiences in the Big City here in Syders on the weekends is skewing my opinion of alla this somewhat. It’s not necessarily better. It’s just different. And I really feel like there’s something to be said for stepping out onto the street onto an actual footpath, and walking maybe 3 blocks max to either a convenience store, a decent café, or a supermarket of some kind.

I also had a big rant planned here about community and how we’re losing it with our TVs and high fences and lack of corner stores and what have you, but I got a bit lost speaking to friends on MSN and emailing beautiful boys (well, boy) about beautiful music. And now it’s nearly midnight.

So I’m going to bed.

I wonder

Why is it that I like summer fruit when it’s just a little unripe? There’s something wonderful about the slight tart taste of a not-quite-ripe nectarine. I think it goes back to that apricot tree in the back yard when I was growing up. We’d wait all spring for the fruit on that damn thing to ripen. More often than not we’d end up taking the half-ripe fruit off the tree, eating the side that was more orange, and chucking out the rest. I think somewhere along the line I developed a taste for that not-quite-orange side of things.

Not bananas though. Have you ever bitten into an unripe banana? Ughfurryugh.

So tonight I’ve been looking at National set lists, when I really should be washing up. For obvious reasons the songs City Middle and Karen are very very high on the list of pleases for these National gigs in January, but given recent history I think either of them are unlikely. The good news is Apartment Story is almost a given. This song is special for a lot of reasons, and I have no doubt I will get overly emotional if/when they play it.

I’m put together beautifully
Big wet bottle in my fist, big wet rose in my teeth
I’m perfect piece of ass
Like every Californian
So tall I take over the street, with highbeams shining on my back
A wingspan unbelievable
I’m a festival, I’m a parade


What a weird and whacky week. I feel like I’ve been sliding through near disasters at work all week by the skin of my teeth, and then yesterday a near brush with something resembling Bad News (plus assisting on the scene of a fairly terrible accident and giving an official statement) has me in a funny sort of head space.

Writing reminders to future self –

– What a beautiful face I have found in this place.
– Some say we’ll see Armageddon soon.
– Return of the Meany Cat.
– Sisters.

Although the intertron is unlikely to get anything else from me between now and next week. This girl is spent, and more than that, has some shit to do.