26 June 2007

dark + rainy mornings

Yay for me! I was up at sparrow's fart this morning. A return to the gym after three weeks of complete + utter slackness. I still have a strange desire to incinerate every cross-trainer on the face of the planet, but aside from that I feel positive.

(Don't know why there's any need to announce this to the world. Perhaps as a form of self-motivation. It's too early to be self-aggrandisement, but be assured that I will brag if I get back to a full routine. Nag me if you see me. Or just choose to ignore me.)

24 June 2007

more moaning

Yep, she's still whingeing. Avert your eyes if you're bored already!

Today’s been pretty shithouse for a Sunday. Spent the morning preparing for a job interview, which requires an oral dissertation on how I would “manage key leadership functions” inherent to the internal promotion. WTF?

After that I braved the Figgers Westfield maxi-mall in search of winter clothes. After a major intervention by Weeze I've finally acknowledged that I can’t survive the colder months clad only in an assortment of t-shirts + three-quarter cardigans. On a hot tip from Holley I headed for K-mart with my wardrobe wishes held high, like a flag of hope fluttering in a gentle breeze of consumer confidence. Well that flag was in blood-splattered tatters within minutes my friends.

It would seem that Holley visits a K-mart in an alternate dimension, where the sun shines, the neat racks are brimful of quality pure wool knits + the delightful staff are more than happy to help you find fashion gems in your size. I don't know where the bloody hell that shop is, cos mine is packed to the rafters with screaming children, screaming bogans + synthetic tracksuits in the full range of sizes 8 + 28 (note that I did not say 8 to 28, oh no no-no-no nooooo...).

I had a tension headache before I'd even pushed my way past the rainbow of ugg boot + Barbie bedhead displays at the front of the store. By the time I'd located the only two non-nylon items in the shop I was about ready to commit atrocities. I did try to push on, I swear. I braved the fruit + veg shop + was halfway through the supermarket gate when I realised that I just couldn't face it. My abrupt reverse pissed several people off but I figure it was only fair that I got some annoying behaviour in there somewhere.

I decided to cheer myself up + go crazy over a cinnamon donut but the donut shop was closed, so in a moment of desperation I did it... something so horrible that I can barely speak its name out loud. I stopped in at Gloria Jean's. I'm not going to pretend that I've never been in there before, but my only previous crime against coffee was probably four years ago now, + it was a case of extreme workplace duress.

I was doing some project work at UTS with a bunch of girls who were lovely (+ I do mean that) but about as different to me as gazelles on the savannah. When a GJ's opened up the street they were in raptures. There were endless office discussions about the beauty of decaf-mocha-frappe-crappe-chinos + the subtle deliciousness of the pot-pourri-pine-o-cleen coffee blends on offer at the store. Every day was a new opportunity to gush over GJ's + there was a limit to the effectiveness of my excuse that I would rather stick my own head in a blender + hit "frappe" than partake in that revolting excuse for coffee. So I got dragged along from time to time. Come to think of it, I may even have been given some sickly-sweet-faux-vanilla-infused gift-pack upon my departure.

So this was the first visit since then. I asked for a portuguese tart to take away + they handed me a giant paper bag. It wasn't til I got home + opened it that I realised that the bag contained 1 x very small tart, 1 x enormous heavy duty plastic plate, 1 x heavy duty plastic fork + 4 x serviettes. I mean, for goodness sakes! Who has ever eaten a portuguese tart with a fork? Or needed four serviettes to clean up after themselves? This is my number one problem with places like GJ's. If you choose to eat that kind of rubbish food, fine. (Although of course there are ethical + environmental ramifications to that choice as well.) But at least consider the intense amount of waste that seems to be unavoidable with any purchase. Many of those places don't even have reusable crockery + cutlery for use inside the store. And it drives me bananas. (In case you couldn't tell.)

Phew! I feel better now!

Actually several things are contributing to me feeling better already... Jason's on his way over for a cuppa + a chat. I'm going to cook up a big lentil bolognese + stew some rhubarb tonight, which will see me fully recovered from shoping-mall-madness. Mmmm... winter goodness.

The fact that my travels had a supersonic soundtrack also helped me to keep smiling. Ethan fitted the new car stereo yesterday, in a burst of manly activity that had my head awhir. There was all sorts of confusing electronic activity going on - wires everywhere, sound checks, isolating the different speakers, sockets + soldering. I did my bit by hovering around, saying "u-huh, sounds good to me" + shining a torch for a bit. And then it was done. So impressive. I picked out my crappiest, most scratched-up burnt cds + blasted them around town with nary so much as one skip.

And something helped me to seriously love my lot this morning. I called Adam - a nice fella that Sarah's been trying to set me up with - to take a raincheck on our coffee date. At about 10am he'd already spent several hours at work. He's an industrial abseiler + his mission for the morning had been abseilling into a "waste shunt" beneath the Town Hall food court in Sydney. This is - from what I can make out - a giant vat that every food outlet drains its waste into. I have no idea what he was doing down there (or why he agreed to go down there, in fact) but all I could think of was that scene from Kenny where our hero is lowered into a septic tank. Adam hadn't seen the movie but he knew exactly what I was talking about + could even quote the relevant line... there's a smell in there that will outlast religion.

I do love a bit of perspective for helping me pull my head out of my own bum!

23 June 2007


A crappy week came to close in a beautiful way last night, when Holley, Ethan, Sal + I went to see Darren Hanlon. It was exactly the lift I needed.

Another superb show at the Heritage. The company of good mates. A star-studded space to gaze upon + daydream within. (Sarah Blasko, Holly Throsby + Lindsay 'The Doctor' McDougall were all fellow audience-members.) A spot on the floor about two metres from the stage. A sublimely beautiful performance by Daz + his band. An autographed CD + a chat with two of the musos.

I finally whisked up the courage to speak to Bree Van Reyk, who I have the most tentative of childhood connections to. We both played in the Canberra Youth Orchestra's Symphonic Band as kiddies + one of us has gone on to musical greatness. Bree is an incredibly talented freelance percussionist who works with the likes of Daz + Holly, while (from what I can work out) making her own music in big + varied ways. It was exciting that she remembered me ("bass clarinet yeh?") + was willing to put up with my gibbering for a few minutes.

And while Daz was speaking straight to my heart (as he always does), pianist + trumpeteer Cory Gray was speaking straight to my pants. Sal + I were the first peops he spoke to after getting off stage + he asked me my name!!! [Insert teenage girl squeal here.] I would have gone the way of fluttery eyelids + "can I buy you a drink" if I'd had one more beer under my belt + wasn't dealing with The Monster Cold. But maybe that's a lucky thing. Good lord I need to get laid.

More than anything I was thankful for the optimism + happiness that the gig brought back to me. It was an 'orrible week, all things told, + so a gift to end it on such a high note. Darren's gorgeous lyrics + poetic storytelling never fail to give me a sense of hope + humour. They remind me that life is a journey for each + every one of us, with lots of stories to tell + even more to be told. I'm looking forward to letting go of the 'what ifs' + embracing the stories to come. (Sorry to get soppy on ya guys, but sometimes it's just the way it has to be.)

hold on my love
if only for that cloud who burst its skin + cried out loud
and sent us running with the crowd, the concert ruined
the cute smiles of young boys beckon, if only for nine seconds
i know you're lonely
so if only for the 'if only'
hold on my love
try try to rest those peepers
you're jealous of easy sleepers
try not to think too hard you might break something

From 'Hold On' by Darren Hanlon.

21 June 2007

fridge poetry thursday

Today's poem was doomed to fall on the dark side... although the overall optimism of its tone should be noted! I've had the most banal dingy birthday-comedown cold all week. It's driving me mad with its not-quite-sick-enough-to-be-bedridden mediocrity. I'm fed up with being snotty + shirty + sore. I'm fed up with me. I'm fed up with you. I'm going to go sup steaming miso + feel sorry for meself in front of a crappy movie.

19 June 2007

now i am 31…

... + what a week or so it’s been!

I caught a bit of Dr Karl on the radio when I was home on sick leave recently. One fella posed a great question along the lines of “It was my 30th birthday on the weekend: How did that happen?”

The mystery is only heightened at 31, my friend, let me tell you that.

The bad stuff...
--worst skin ever. I am now officially a zitface in a way that I never was as a kid. Lucky my ma is shouting me a facial for my birthday. I need it.
--weird hairs continue to do their thang in places they shouldn't. I weakened + plucked two from my lip this morning. There is no turning back.
--hangover resistance is at an all time low. Possibly a message from my very sensible body that I am old enough to know better. If only I was willing to heed.

The good stuff...
There's so much that I'm stumped on where to start. I don't want to rattle off on another of my boring lists but it doesn't feel like there are many other options. In fact it could take several lists to even begin addressing the goodness. But I'll try to take pity on my very small readership by limiting it to brief highlights.

--the blessing that is my friends. How bloody lucky am I?
-->A whole weekend with Weeze. Love you gorgeous.
-->A flying visit from Adi + Angelo. Ang do you realise that it's close to four years since we saw each other last?! And Adi, do you realise what a strong, creative inspiration you are to me on lots of levels?! It was so much fun to hang out with you both.
-->A fabulous night out at the Heritage for The Black Seeds, with everyone making a massive effort, but particularly Bec + Joel - thanks so much guys.
-->My work mob, who continue to be unfailingly genuine in their warmth + kindness. Amanda's cherry semolina cake was divine.
-->Toni + Vlad, who are sweethearts. I loved the nipple cakes Tone. They were delicious. Don't you let anyone knock your choice of icing design. (And if they do knock it suggest that they might like to pass the pinkly-iced morsel in my direction.)
-->A delicious dinner with Carolyn, Jen, Carol + Kristy, with a bag of coconut ice thrown in for good measure.
-->A brilliant birthday op-shopping excursion with Bez + a pair of lovely red leather pumas thrown in. (No Weeze, I did not say red leather pants. I know I'm too old to embrace skin-tight leather.)
-->A lovely night out with Ethan + Jason on the actual day. Getting taken out to dinner by two spunky blokes is quite a treat for the single birthday girl. It made me laugh to rock up to a restaurant in couplesville, order three bowls of spag bowl, + carry on with our usual crazy talk. I'm so happy to have stumbled across you both. And then stumbling across the last couple of songs from Cut Off Your Hands at the Oxford... what a befitting birthday treat! (Jason, I love the fact that you bought the t-shirt + then asked "What does Cut Off Your Hands mean?" Please see comment below re: my stepmother the madwoman + adapt as appropriate!)
-->Hanging out with Mat + Sarah for an entire day + night in celebration of Sarah's birthday. Heaps of fun. Even though my head hurt on Saturday (+ Sunday come to think of it). Thanks for introducing me to Singin' In The Rain, Sarah. You rock.

--the mixed blessing that is my family. A decent chat with me old man. Dinner in Chinatown + a lovely talk with my mum. A call from Slim + Jaci. And, definitely not least, the fact that Rina made the entire mob sing happy birthday to someone else's answerphone. We would be lost without you, you madwoman.

--my surprise birthday pressie, which just blew my mind. A gang of mates pitched in + bought me a new car stereo. I was so so impressed. Everyone was so impressed by Ethan, who made the whole thing happen. (You're a gem!) It was so generous + thoughtful. I still haven't recovered.

--my beautiful handmade birthday pressies, including Emma's aromatic coasters + Holley's stupendous sock creature, who I love to bits + have named Monteith (Monty for short) in honour of a shared passion.

I'm sure I've missed stuff. But to summarise...
it was a brilliant birthday + I love youse all

17 June 2007

fridge poetry thursday

(This was supposed to be posted on Thursday at least. A birthday poem. Thwarted by the tyranny of dial-up again. Maaaaaannnnnn... I can't wait for new abode, flatmate company + an ensuing broadband revolution. Someone will have to explain bluetooth to me next.)

01 June 2007

work can be fun

BEZ: i have some mint slice biscuits on my desk if anyone wants to visit and get one at any time.

CLAIRE: Yummo - thanks mate. There are also some peanut brittle fingers available at The Desk Of Claire. Although Anthony has already pointed out that I need to be careful when offering someone a finger!

SMOKEY: I have some *delicious* Eclipse mints at my desk. Feel free to swing by and eat some if you are concerned about your bad breath. hehehe

ANTHONY: my cubicle is an existentialist wasteland of wistful fancies resolute on endlessly taunting me into a drooling, slavering discombobulation. I got nada, gimme sweeties