As me old mucker Kat used to say...
May the 4th be with you!
04 May 2007
03 May 2007
reasons why i love smokey
1. I looked over at her in the middle of a gory scene in Last King of Scotland last night. She was facing the screen but her eyes were closed tight.
2. We were both feeling a bit blah at lunch today. We couldn't think of anything to say. So we didn't. And that was okay.
2. We were both feeling a bit blah at lunch today. We couldn't think of anything to say. So we didn't. And that was okay.
coming full (moon) circle
The full moon was setting over the freeway early this morning. It was sublime. A huge pale orb in the pink/grey sky. Suspended above the twists + turns of the off-ramps + entryways. It made me think of a Jeffrey Smart painting.
It was all downhill from there. The gym is killing me + I’m only into New Leaf Week Two. I have never heard so much bad music in such a short space of time. Led Zep’s beautiful Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You with dance beat + irritating whistle effect? I don’t bloody think so. An entire swag of Radiohead songs slaughtered by some free-dance-jazz-interpretation-concept-album drongos? Please no. But it’s all true. Don’t get me wrong, I am a dance music lover, not a hater. I don’t despise “doof doof”. In fact I refuse to even utter the term “doof doof”. I bought the Claude VonStroke album a couple of weeks ago + that is jam-packed with whistling. But there have to be some boundaries, some limits, some sense of sanctity. I say this knowing full well that there are none. That nothing is sacred in pop culture + that this is the way it’s always been. The classics of one generation slaughtered shamelessly by the next.
I went to my mate Terri’s 40th birthday party on Saturday. For the first time I found myself a member of the Boring Adult Brigade (BAB) at a gathering that was very much segregated into plus-40 adults + under-20 kids. It was scary. The BAB started dancing + the kids circled around like laughing hyenas with phone + video cameras. We were clearly an hysterical embarrassment. And I was in the middle of it, pulling out what I thought were my grooviest moves. I was ‘them’, not ‘us’. Let me just say again… it was scary.
It provided great mind-cud on the long… hungover… bad bad bad… drive home from Orangeville. (One of my favourite things: solo car trip, good music, something meaningful to mull over.) Ben Folds sang out serendipitously. There’s always someone cooler than you. And there always will be. My peak of cool has well + truly passed. It’s time to love the daggy mediocrity, let go + move on to the more important stuff.
It was all downhill from there. The gym is killing me + I’m only into New Leaf Week Two. I have never heard so much bad music in such a short space of time. Led Zep’s beautiful Babe, I’m Gonna Leave You with dance beat + irritating whistle effect? I don’t bloody think so. An entire swag of Radiohead songs slaughtered by some free-dance-jazz-interpretation-concept-album drongos? Please no. But it’s all true. Don’t get me wrong, I am a dance music lover, not a hater. I don’t despise “doof doof”. In fact I refuse to even utter the term “doof doof”. I bought the Claude VonStroke album a couple of weeks ago + that is jam-packed with whistling. But there have to be some boundaries, some limits, some sense of sanctity. I say this knowing full well that there are none. That nothing is sacred in pop culture + that this is the way it’s always been. The classics of one generation slaughtered shamelessly by the next.
I went to my mate Terri’s 40th birthday party on Saturday. For the first time I found myself a member of the Boring Adult Brigade (BAB) at a gathering that was very much segregated into plus-40 adults + under-20 kids. It was scary. The BAB started dancing + the kids circled around like laughing hyenas with phone + video cameras. We were clearly an hysterical embarrassment. And I was in the middle of it, pulling out what I thought were my grooviest moves. I was ‘them’, not ‘us’. Let me just say again… it was scary.
It provided great mind-cud on the long… hungover… bad bad bad… drive home from Orangeville. (One of my favourite things: solo car trip, good music, something meaningful to mull over.) Ben Folds sang out serendipitously. There’s always someone cooler than you. And there always will be. My peak of cool has well + truly passed. It’s time to love the daggy mediocrity, let go + move on to the more important stuff.
02 May 2007
reasons why i love bez
1. She will be made very uncomfortable by my confession of love.
2. She says things like... i love the word entrepreneurial. it's the tre and pre that do it. not too keen on the people who embody it, though.
3. She is happy to express her strong dislike of small children who are covered in food.
2. She says things like... i love the word entrepreneurial. it's the tre and pre that do it. not too keen on the people who embody it, though.
3. She is happy to express her strong dislike of small children who are covered in food.
01 May 2007
gobstopper
Another good one from the OED! Who woulda thunk that "hobby-horse" could be so rich in meaning? And who in their right mind would have considered using "hobby-horsical" in a sentence? My goal for this new month of May is to steer clear of the hobby horse (see definition 3b).hobby-horse, n.
1. A kind of horse
2. In the morris-dance, and on the stage (in burlesques, pantomimes, etc.), a figure of a horse, made of wickerwork, or other light material, furnished with a deep housing, and fastened about the waist of one of the performers, who executed various antics in imitation of the movements of a skittish or spirited horse; also, the name of this performer in a morris-dance. Hence, to play (the) hobby-horse A hobby-horse dance. Obs.
3. A person who plays ridiculous antics; a frivolous or foolish fellow, jester, buffoon. b. A lustful person; a loose woman, prostitute.
4. A stick with a horse's head which children bestride as a toy horse. b. A wooden horse fixed on a ‘merry-go-round’ at a fair. c. A rocking-horse for the nursery.
5. Hobby.
6. A favourite pursuit or pastime.
7. As hobby-horse dance; hobby-horse man, hobbyhorseman, (a) a man who sells hobby-horses; (b) a man who rode a ‘hobby-horse’ or dandy-horse; (c) a man who ‘rides a hobby’.
30 April 2007
new work
Finally posting some photos of new work I exhibited last month.
The series of four mixed media drawings is titled the frog in my throat, the dog in my guts, the bird in my heart, the fox in my mind (+ me in my hands) - yes, possibly the longest title ever! They were included in an exhibition called Gender Show, which my friend Virginia Mawer curated + which ran on campus for about three weeks. It was an interesting + varied show, with about 20 participating artists.
The images aren't very good unfortunately... I'm yet to befriend a professional photographer... but at least they give you an idea of what I've been up to. It's a new direction for me - continuing to move away from objects + towards drawing. I still feel quite excited by it + looking forward to finding more time for it (as ever).
27 April 2007
happy happy
I’m still mildly down. In that non-descript, dispassionate and incredibly boring kinda way. And yet there is so much joy to be eked out.
Highlights from a quiet Friday…
--fabulous love life advice from Anthony. He’s a sage, with previous notable sage-ness being “find a good geek”. Our most recent exchange was set off by Jaci’s fabulous picture…
Highlights from a quiet Friday…
--fabulous love life advice from Anthony. He’s a sage, with previous notable sage-ness being “find a good geek”. Our most recent exchange was set off by Jaci’s fabulous picture…
…which then led to happy pants (as MC Hammer must)… which then led to a spectacularly happy pair of monster pants…
+ then… well… somehow ended up at love life, as all of my conversations still seem to.
A: It's good to give up on dating. I've never dated because the true way to secure a partner is to really really enjoy your single life, plan cool individual things to do, start lots of hobbies, go out every night, smoke cones, drink and revel in the fact you can do whatever you want with abandon... only then will your beloved come along.
Me: Oh yeh, I know. My cone smoking days are well over, but I work pretty hard on the rest. Thanks for the words of wisdom... you smug partnered bastard.
A: I forgot the most important step - you have to not want a partner ever and must want to remain single forever in order to enjoy such things that will never come about. Don't count your cone smoking days as over before they're hatched… you might need it as fall back one day hehe.
--discussion with Bez about stoopid smoothie names + how much of an ass I feel when asking for a banarama or chocko rocko. I suggested going with simple numbers until Bez pointed out that a number two smoothie might not inspire the masses.
But still… My favourite beverage from the campus smoothie operator is called gym junkie. Well how freakin incongruous is that? No way am I waltzing up and saying that out loud. I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey! You! Lardy pants! Whaddaya need one of those for?” In this case, number two might be more fitting, cos it’s packed with spirulina and is always welcomed back in the office by cries of “Omigod! That’s green!” As if I was completely unaware.
--the general animal email theme that got going. We had giant fake mastiffs, old kinkajous, Paris, and sheep in poodle clothing. So so much fun.
--being asked for a cuddle by Brave Smokey cos she was down. You should do that more often mate. It's a win-win situation + we all like those.
--the fact that Carol got her job, official-like, after acting in it the bomb for so many months. It's hard to pick a person who is more genuinely sweet or more deserving of good things.
--watching Secretary again with Jason. Such a beautiful, sensual, thought-provoking film. And Maggie Gyllenhaal... hot hot hot.
--laughing so hard at several of the above. Laughing til my sides hurt. It's hard to get better than that.
Okey dokes... off to do some cool individual things. See ya!
24 April 2007
23 April 2007
holding on to the good stuff
I did something for emotional-retard-boy before I realised he was so. It was embarrassing at the time - to do something cool + spontaneous for someone who turned out to be neither - but when I think about it now I have to smile. Hopefully one day the inspiration will hit for someone who's worth it. In the meantime I'm going to capture the Cool + Spontaneous Thing here for posterity*.
A couple of weeks before my ill-fated visit to Melbourne I stumbled into a crazy mood. There's no point in fighting those damn things, so I went with it. I packed up a Dirty Weekend Emergency Kit + sent it on down. It contained:
--a couple of photos of myself (in case he'd forgotten what I look like)
--a couple of disguises - groucho mo, glow-in-the dark glasses, tiara (in case he was disappointed by what I look like)
--a list of cool questions I'd come up with (in case we ran out of conversation)
--a mills+boon-style novella (in case we ran out of romance)
--a pack of uno (in case we ran out of things to do)
--a plastic donkey (in case either of us felt like an ass + needed company)
--a packet of clinkers
If I'd known he was going to show all his friends I probably wouldn't have slipped the Nympho Librarian in with the photos. Oops... how did that get there?
If I'd stopped to consider that the donkey could be a reference to package-size I never would've gone there.
If I'd known the uno was going to come in so handy I would've splurged on pick-up-sticks or maybe even guess who. (Anything other than scrabble!)
If I'd known that questions along the lines of Chicken or duck?, If you could invite anyone over to dinner who would it be?, and What was the happiest time in your life? would be "wooooahhh, too heavy man" I could've saved myself an airfare.
Live + learn, my friends. Live + learn. (Or maybe that should be live + laugh at myself!?)
*An aside: Is posterity a real word? Or does 'posterity' refer to the 'posterior' +, hence, 'arse'. I always wonder about that one.
A couple of weeks before my ill-fated visit to Melbourne I stumbled into a crazy mood. There's no point in fighting those damn things, so I went with it. I packed up a Dirty Weekend Emergency Kit + sent it on down. It contained:
--a couple of photos of myself (in case he'd forgotten what I look like)
--a couple of disguises - groucho mo, glow-in-the dark glasses, tiara (in case he was disappointed by what I look like)
--a list of cool questions I'd come up with (in case we ran out of conversation)
--a mills+boon-style novella (in case we ran out of romance)
--a pack of uno (in case we ran out of things to do)
--a plastic donkey (in case either of us felt like an ass + needed company)
--a packet of clinkers
If I'd known he was going to show all his friends I probably wouldn't have slipped the Nympho Librarian in with the photos. Oops... how did that get there?If I'd stopped to consider that the donkey could be a reference to package-size I never would've gone there.
If I'd known the uno was going to come in so handy I would've splurged on pick-up-sticks or maybe even guess who. (Anything other than scrabble!)
If I'd known that questions along the lines of Chicken or duck?, If you could invite anyone over to dinner who would it be?, and What was the happiest time in your life? would be "wooooahhh, too heavy man" I could've saved myself an airfare.
Live + learn, my friends. Live + learn. (Or maybe that should be live + laugh at myself!?)
*An aside: Is posterity a real word? Or does 'posterity' refer to the 'posterior' +, hence, 'arse'. I always wonder about that one.
20 April 2007
crossing paths
A teensy black cat has moved into the flats across the way. Her name is Artemis + this week she has started hanging out at my place. For the last three mornings she has been there, big eyes staring, when I open my blinds. Hanging out, comfortable in the thyme patch.
She is very shy, but we have started talking to each other. I like our tentative conversations.
I think I will miss her when I go.
She is very shy, but we have started talking to each other. I like our tentative conversations.
I think I will miss her when I go.
19 April 2007
gobstopper
Actually got a good word-of-the-day from the OED. Normally it's pretty crap.
infix, v.
1. To fix or fasten (one thing) in (another); to implant or insert firmly. To affix. To fix or fasten on something.
2. To fix (a fact, etc.) in the mind or memory, so as to cause a deep impression; to impress.
3. To insert (a formative element) in the body of a word.
Particularly like the second definition.
infix, v.
1. To fix or fasten (one thing) in (another); to implant or insert firmly. To affix. To fix or fasten on something.
2. To fix (a fact, etc.) in the mind or memory, so as to cause a deep impression; to impress.
3. To insert (a formative element) in the body of a word.
Particularly like the second definition.
18 April 2007
a life + its poetry to explore
I decided – after three years of working in one – that I should really make better use of the library. I don’t know how this will sit with another recent decision: to stop pretending that I read. But life is all about taking chances.
I came home with a crateload of books. Staggering under the weight. Most are academic + will probably be my undoing. (Not enough pretty pictures. Too many unfathomable words.) But fortuitously the first I picked up was a book of poetry from 1982. Small Blue View by Pamela Brown. It felt somehow prophetic… a completely random find, looking for something else, + the first titled ‘a poem almost in the coalcliff style’. I read the whole thing in five minutes. (Confession: there are only seven poems.)
I would like to write a poem every day. Today’s would be about daydreaming. Listening to Daft Punk on the walk to work + imagining myself as a film clip. Music's got me feeling so free, celebrate and dance so free, one more time. Crossing the oval in backflips + cartwheels. Making my journey free-running style, like the yamakasi dudes on telly last night. Strong body, strong spirit, strong man.
My favourite… in a complete breach of copyright…
nothing at all
i’ve talked away
my best ideas.
i move through
some landscapes
looking for places
i cannot locate.
what can
i tell you?
what can I say?
these little
erratic signals,
little poems,
they’re
all there is.
i would like
to have
‘staying power’
or become
‘a model
of consistency’
but I like
words like
‘useless’
nothing
occurs to me
at all.
I came home with a crateload of books. Staggering under the weight. Most are academic + will probably be my undoing. (Not enough pretty pictures. Too many unfathomable words.) But fortuitously the first I picked up was a book of poetry from 1982. Small Blue View by Pamela Brown. It felt somehow prophetic… a completely random find, looking for something else, + the first titled ‘a poem almost in the coalcliff style’. I read the whole thing in five minutes. (Confession: there are only seven poems.)
I would like to write a poem every day. Today’s would be about daydreaming. Listening to Daft Punk on the walk to work + imagining myself as a film clip. Music's got me feeling so free, celebrate and dance so free, one more time. Crossing the oval in backflips + cartwheels. Making my journey free-running style, like the yamakasi dudes on telly last night. Strong body, strong spirit, strong man.
My favourite… in a complete breach of copyright…
nothing at all
i’ve talked away
my best ideas.
i move through
some landscapes
looking for places
i cannot locate.
what can
i tell you?
what can I say?
these little
erratic signals,
little poems,
they’re
all there is.
i would like
to have
‘staying power’
or become
‘a model
of consistency’
but I like
words like
‘useless’
nothing
occurs to me
at all.
Thank you Pamela Brown.
11 April 2007
illustration friday: green
my companion will besweet + faithful.
we will play,
be green together,
+ not afraid.
10 April 2007
flick it, flick it good
A selection of photos from ClaireFest - le grande 30th birthday celebrations of 2006 - is now, finally, available to view on my Flickr page. Hope you enjoy the shenanigans as much as I did.09 April 2007
oops… i did it again…
I fucked with my heart + have been a giant misery-guts since returning from my interstate dirty weekend last Tuesday. Melbourne-boy turned out to be emotional-retard-boy but this couldn’t be discovered by lengthy phone conversations or countless (in hindsight) clues. Ooooh no, it took a four-day visit + great expense to figure that out. I came home feeling disappointed, despondent, defeated… pick another ‘d’ word. Dunce perhaps. Disaster-zone. It has knocked me around + left me feeling unlovable.
In a concerted effort to focus on the good stuff I’m…
Smiling at… My mates. All those people who are there to mop up the mess when I get it wrong. Ethan + Jason for the male perspective debrief-and-beer session. Carolyn, Jen, Rob, Nancy + Hedley for letting me make like they’re my surrogate family when I need functional family lovin the most. Nats for her no-bullshit way of setting me straight. Smokey for being a major sweetie + for the ‘grumpy old women retirement plan’ – exactly what I needed, you beautiful thing, thank you. Charlotte + Justin for letting me hang out in their loungeroom + cuddle their dog. My ma for doing her best.
Seeing Adi in Melbourne – how gorgeous are you right now girl!?
Being me. Open to new experiences; brave enough to take a risk for someone who turned out to be a coward; brave enough to make a mistake + admit to it; a bloody great softie with no option of being anything else.
Eating… Slim + Jaci’s homemade chokky truffles. I don’t normally go in for Easter but… mmmmmm… homemade truffles, all different varieties, couveture chocolate. Sometimes I love coming from a foodie family! Carolyn’s potato salad. Hot cross buns. Homemade chicken + corn soup. A pretty good weekend after all!
Listening to… The swag of CDs that Ethan lent me. Old favourites like Dandy Warhols, Foo Fighters, Black Crows, Led Zep, plus new leads. Great stuff. I’m also completely smitten with Kings of Leon’s new single – On Call. Can’t help it, it’s suckered me in + is number one on the current wishlist. Why can’t I find that sentiment in a fella!? (Oh, + the floppy hair + swooning doesn't hurt either.)
Watching… Rom coms + the usual twaddle I subject myself to when low. A really good BBC telemovie last night – My Family + Other Animals – highly recommended. Moonlighting, on a whim, + it is hilarious! It would be good to organise a compulsory screening for the yoooof of today, to show them just how wrong 80s fashion can be.
Bouncing back right now. Stay tuned for Cheerful Clairey.
In a concerted effort to focus on the good stuff I’m…
Smiling at… My mates. All those people who are there to mop up the mess when I get it wrong. Ethan + Jason for the male perspective debrief-and-beer session. Carolyn, Jen, Rob, Nancy + Hedley for letting me make like they’re my surrogate family when I need functional family lovin the most. Nats for her no-bullshit way of setting me straight. Smokey for being a major sweetie + for the ‘grumpy old women retirement plan’ – exactly what I needed, you beautiful thing, thank you. Charlotte + Justin for letting me hang out in their loungeroom + cuddle their dog. My ma for doing her best.
Seeing Adi in Melbourne – how gorgeous are you right now girl!?
Being me. Open to new experiences; brave enough to take a risk for someone who turned out to be a coward; brave enough to make a mistake + admit to it; a bloody great softie with no option of being anything else.
Eating… Slim + Jaci’s homemade chokky truffles. I don’t normally go in for Easter but… mmmmmm… homemade truffles, all different varieties, couveture chocolate. Sometimes I love coming from a foodie family! Carolyn’s potato salad. Hot cross buns. Homemade chicken + corn soup. A pretty good weekend after all!
Listening to… The swag of CDs that Ethan lent me. Old favourites like Dandy Warhols, Foo Fighters, Black Crows, Led Zep, plus new leads. Great stuff. I’m also completely smitten with Kings of Leon’s new single – On Call. Can’t help it, it’s suckered me in + is number one on the current wishlist. Why can’t I find that sentiment in a fella!? (Oh, + the floppy hair + swooning doesn't hurt either.)
Watching… Rom coms + the usual twaddle I subject myself to when low. A really good BBC telemovie last night – My Family + Other Animals – highly recommended. Moonlighting, on a whim, + it is hilarious! It would be good to organise a compulsory screening for the yoooof of today, to show them just how wrong 80s fashion can be.
Bouncing back right now. Stay tuned for Cheerful Clairey.
26 March 2007
magic numbers
I've been feeling selfish lately, for a couple of reasons which I might explore at another time. I hate feeling like an insular navel-gazer but, as I've said previously, this forum is one for navel-gazing + I think that should be accepted + embraced on some level. Self-involvement seems a paramount pre-requisite of blogging. And I don't think that's all bad. It's good to have a space in which to explore my thoughts, feelings + experiences, + to forge an ongoing connection to myself. Lord knows that there are not enough of those spaces in contemporary life. So how do I make a distinction between self-knowledge or self-reflection + selfishness? I keep coming back to a favourite Anne Morrow Lindbergh quote: I believe that true identity is found... by going into one’s own ground and knowing oneself. A lovely (if slightly 70's) reading, given to me by Annalise, has also been feeding my thinking...
… the number seven was regarded as a magic number in the Hopi mythology, because it represented the seven primary directions, or places, in the Hopi’s world: the north, the south, the east, the west, up into the sky, down into the earth and the place where he stands. It seems that the Hopi understood in the magic seven the paradox that in order to know the universe outside of himself, a man must first know himself, and experience existence in his own body, the house of his spirit, the centre of his consciousness. Without the seventh place, the other six directions have no meaning. The Hopi might look for the north star in order to determine what place he was in, but he must be aware of himself before he can find the north star. The seven becomes a circle always coming back to itself, or infinity, in the sense of endlessly recurring self-awareness. For even as you say “the north, the south, the east, the west, the sky, the earth and where I stand, “ and visualize each place as you say it, you realize that the six directions all flow back to where you stand, yet the very existence of those directions is predicated on your being there in the centre of awareness from the beginning. The seven not only follows the six, but also precedes the one.
… Even as I write these words, I understand how difficult it will be for someone to read them and understand what they really mean… One of the most powerful yet simple images to express what it means to find your centre is this: As a tree grows taller with wider reaching branches it will always grow a thicker trunk and deeper roots. The tree “knows” what to do for stability. Man’s mind, on the other hand, can invent possibilities that are not necessarily good for his body. He may try to reach away from himself without, at the same time, growing deep roots. If we are to learn from nature, as undoubtedly the Hopi did, we must know where it is we are standing at the same time we search for the north star.
From 'Where I Stand' by Beverly Brown
5 Essays On The Dance Of Erick Hawkins, 1973
… the number seven was regarded as a magic number in the Hopi mythology, because it represented the seven primary directions, or places, in the Hopi’s world: the north, the south, the east, the west, up into the sky, down into the earth and the place where he stands. It seems that the Hopi understood in the magic seven the paradox that in order to know the universe outside of himself, a man must first know himself, and experience existence in his own body, the house of his spirit, the centre of his consciousness. Without the seventh place, the other six directions have no meaning. The Hopi might look for the north star in order to determine what place he was in, but he must be aware of himself before he can find the north star. The seven becomes a circle always coming back to itself, or infinity, in the sense of endlessly recurring self-awareness. For even as you say “the north, the south, the east, the west, the sky, the earth and where I stand, “ and visualize each place as you say it, you realize that the six directions all flow back to where you stand, yet the very existence of those directions is predicated on your being there in the centre of awareness from the beginning. The seven not only follows the six, but also precedes the one.
… Even as I write these words, I understand how difficult it will be for someone to read them and understand what they really mean… One of the most powerful yet simple images to express what it means to find your centre is this: As a tree grows taller with wider reaching branches it will always grow a thicker trunk and deeper roots. The tree “knows” what to do for stability. Man’s mind, on the other hand, can invent possibilities that are not necessarily good for his body. He may try to reach away from himself without, at the same time, growing deep roots. If we are to learn from nature, as undoubtedly the Hopi did, we must know where it is we are standing at the same time we search for the north star.
From 'Where I Stand' by Beverly Brown
5 Essays On The Dance Of Erick Hawkins, 1973
09 March 2007
illustration friday: hide
Crappy quality image + too late to post to I.F... but I thought I'd put it up anyway!
07 March 2007
how cool is that sarah chick?
I succumbed to a whinge today. Sarah was the unlucky victim of a rant about jinxing the thing with Melbourne-boy (he hasn't called), feeling like a single-freak in couple-world, + generally being miserable. She came back with pretty much the perfect response. So much so that I have to share...
being single does suck - does he like me? will anybody ever like me? blah blah blah. but it did not suck so much that i ever wanted to top myself.
i had many crushes on lots of inappropriate guys (who never liked me back, or if they did, never let on) and lots of inappropriate one night stands. i guess the main thing is that it teaches you that you can survive without that significant other and sometimes it aint all bad.
you can watch what you want without someone telling you that oprah is crap, you can leave the party when you want to, you can eat chocolate for breakfast if you like, you can cry at a movie without feeling like a pussy, you can lift heavy boxes without someone there to tell you they are too heavy for them... but most of all i think when you do get back into a good relationship, you recognise what is actually good about it, you are happy to spend your time with the other and there is no "we're so independant, we don't need to be together but we are" blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit.
for me, when mat is not around life is just a little bit more boring but i would not know that except for the fact that i did many many many many years of having to amuse myself (and plenty of staring at the clouds hoping a magical man would burst through and he would look like david bowie in labyrinth.....but that's another story).
i jinxed heaps of things with heaps of boys and felt like a downright nerd a lot of the time (and i mean a LOT of the time).
it's all part of the joy.
s x x
Thanks mate - friends are the bomb.
being single does suck - does he like me? will anybody ever like me? blah blah blah. but it did not suck so much that i ever wanted to top myself.
i had many crushes on lots of inappropriate guys (who never liked me back, or if they did, never let on) and lots of inappropriate one night stands. i guess the main thing is that it teaches you that you can survive without that significant other and sometimes it aint all bad.
you can watch what you want without someone telling you that oprah is crap, you can leave the party when you want to, you can eat chocolate for breakfast if you like, you can cry at a movie without feeling like a pussy, you can lift heavy boxes without someone there to tell you they are too heavy for them... but most of all i think when you do get back into a good relationship, you recognise what is actually good about it, you are happy to spend your time with the other and there is no "we're so independant, we don't need to be together but we are" blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit.
for me, when mat is not around life is just a little bit more boring but i would not know that except for the fact that i did many many many many years of having to amuse myself (and plenty of staring at the clouds hoping a magical man would burst through and he would look like david bowie in labyrinth.....but that's another story).
i jinxed heaps of things with heaps of boys and felt like a downright nerd a lot of the time (and i mean a LOT of the time).
it's all part of the joy.
s x x
Thanks mate - friends are the bomb.
01 March 2007
motormouth
A very sleepy Monday lunchtime. Dreary drizzly conditions warranting leftover noodles in front of the computer + a quick bash at the blog. I haven’t written much recently cos I’ve been a bit flat, + I hate moaning on about it when I’m in the pancake zone. It gives the impression that my entire existence is a misery, when that’s so not the case. My life is an enormous joy, interspersed with moments of feeling sorry for meself. I don’t want to give those moments the weight of documentation. I want to focus on the good + meaningful. But hey, I’m still simply dribbling on about myself, + what makes one state more valuable than another. Here's the catch-up.
I’ve been smiling at…
My complete lack of resolve… not that it should come as a surprise to anyone. Let's do the new year's run through now that we're two months in:
--karaoke + beer appreciation have not yet been attempted. Actually, beer has been appreciated on a regular basis. But not with any actual theory behind it.
--dvd fines are still playing havoc with my pocket money.
--dancing rocks – + I have definitely been fitting some in – but not nearly as much as I’d hoped. And the classes are a disaster. Who’s stoopid idea was it to commit to extra-curriculars on a Saturday!?! I’m never around to go to class. That’s not going to change anytime soon.
--boys… well… embarrassing failure on that front. The whole no-boys-thang lasted for nearly six weeks, at which point I met + fell for a “consummate bachelor” (according to his cousin) who lives in Melbourne + is obsessed with old cars + pranks. Practical on oh-so-many levels. And I am worrying about boys, in spite of all my best intentions.
No one seems in any way alarmed at my lack of self-discipline on the no-boys-thang. In fact Bez’s response, when I started to tell her about it, was (verbatim) yes claire, i accept that you are going to melbourne to sleep with some guy you haven't physically met yet. (is this right?) + this seems normal to me. if you'd met him through friends or at a party (for example) i'd be concerned. Well, as I said to Bez, bring on the concern, because my reputation as a shallow slut has obviously been upset by this one. I met Melbourne-boy at a wedding (i.e. through friends and at a party). And he's Emma’s cousin, so there's a real-life, flesh and blood link to people I actually know. Ha!
As another resolutionary aside… I did grow my pit hair for two months. It felt satisfying, it felt raw, it felt real, I was living to please myself, then I met a boy + shaved it all off again. WHAT IS WITH THAT!? Said boy experienced me with hairy pits + had no complaints, so it’s not as if it was coming from him. I just wanted to feel feminine (said in whingiest of whingey-girl tones). Even though I am very firm on the point that hairlessness does not equal feminineness. WHAT IS WITH THAT!? Embarrassingly (yes, I sometimes read All Men Are Liars), I found some food for thought on this exact same topic.
I’ve been listening to…
Two fabulous recommendations from Nicole – ‘Deep Cuts’ by The Knife + 'Arular' by M.I.A. Both brilliant driving albums that have been on high-rotation for several weeks now. The obsession will pass… maybe. Saw Sarah Blasko in concert at the Heritage the other week + she was as sublime as usual. Holley’s description of her as a porcelain doll crossed with a robot was spot-on. I think she even won Ethan over. Top stuff!
I’ve been watching…
Way more than usual, given that I’m making something to include in Gin’s show. (Opening next week… aargh… deadline!) How does creativity equate to telly-watching? Weird I know, but when I’m stitching there is nothing better than a juicy series to multi-task over. I’ve even ramped it up a level to watch Love My Way + Six Feet Under simultaneously. So so good.
Speaking of stitching... lunchtime has moved into hometime + I better get back to it!
I’ve been smiling at…
My complete lack of resolve… not that it should come as a surprise to anyone. Let's do the new year's run through now that we're two months in:
--karaoke + beer appreciation have not yet been attempted. Actually, beer has been appreciated on a regular basis. But not with any actual theory behind it.
--dvd fines are still playing havoc with my pocket money.
--dancing rocks – + I have definitely been fitting some in – but not nearly as much as I’d hoped. And the classes are a disaster. Who’s stoopid idea was it to commit to extra-curriculars on a Saturday!?! I’m never around to go to class. That’s not going to change anytime soon.
--boys… well… embarrassing failure on that front. The whole no-boys-thang lasted for nearly six weeks, at which point I met + fell for a “consummate bachelor” (according to his cousin) who lives in Melbourne + is obsessed with old cars + pranks. Practical on oh-so-many levels. And I am worrying about boys, in spite of all my best intentions.
No one seems in any way alarmed at my lack of self-discipline on the no-boys-thang. In fact Bez’s response, when I started to tell her about it, was (verbatim) yes claire, i accept that you are going to melbourne to sleep with some guy you haven't physically met yet. (is this right?) + this seems normal to me. if you'd met him through friends or at a party (for example) i'd be concerned. Well, as I said to Bez, bring on the concern, because my reputation as a shallow slut has obviously been upset by this one. I met Melbourne-boy at a wedding (i.e. through friends and at a party). And he's Emma’s cousin, so there's a real-life, flesh and blood link to people I actually know. Ha!
As another resolutionary aside… I did grow my pit hair for two months. It felt satisfying, it felt raw, it felt real, I was living to please myself, then I met a boy + shaved it all off again. WHAT IS WITH THAT!? Said boy experienced me with hairy pits + had no complaints, so it’s not as if it was coming from him. I just wanted to feel feminine (said in whingiest of whingey-girl tones). Even though I am very firm on the point that hairlessness does not equal feminineness. WHAT IS WITH THAT!? Embarrassingly (yes, I sometimes read All Men Are Liars), I found some food for thought on this exact same topic.
I’ve been listening to…
Two fabulous recommendations from Nicole – ‘Deep Cuts’ by The Knife + 'Arular' by M.I.A. Both brilliant driving albums that have been on high-rotation for several weeks now. The obsession will pass… maybe. Saw Sarah Blasko in concert at the Heritage the other week + she was as sublime as usual. Holley’s description of her as a porcelain doll crossed with a robot was spot-on. I think she even won Ethan over. Top stuff!
I’ve been watching…
Way more than usual, given that I’m making something to include in Gin’s show. (Opening next week… aargh… deadline!) How does creativity equate to telly-watching? Weird I know, but when I’m stitching there is nothing better than a juicy series to multi-task over. I’ve even ramped it up a level to watch Love My Way + Six Feet Under simultaneously. So so good.
Speaking of stitching... lunchtime has moved into hometime + I better get back to it!
18 February 2007
phew...
... what a weekend! Top stuff!
Feeling a little blurred by the action of a Sydney blitz. All the best bits, which somehow simultaneously remind me of why I enjoy visiting + not actually living there! Is that a complete contradiction?
I got to see Steve + Kenan finally. Love those guys. Love the way they insist on treating me to a night at a ritzy restaurant every time I visit them. Loved the food + cocktails at Lotus + was awed, as usual, by the eastern suburbs crowd. Cashed to the hilt. Princess girls with impeccable, tiny outfits + stilt-like stilettos. Boys in the kind of crappy fluro boardshorts + tennis shoes I would've worn to a primary-school sports carnival in 1988. The first of many moments of feeling old. Wanting to shake them + say c'mon guys, make an effort.
Brekky on Saturday with gorgeous Bec + Joel, + the attention-grabbing Tyra. (How much energy can one little staffy contain? I think Tyra could power her own electricity sub-station.) Chorizo, haloumi, brioche, sour cherries + honeycomb butter... spoilt by all the choice that the Gong can't seem to provide.
Next... on to Good Vibrations! The glitz, the glamour, the 80s-style excess. It was nutso! About a zillion people, according to my dubious powers of estimation, in various states of undress + intoxication. Some amazing music, with Beasties + Cassius being my major highlights. Some of my sweetheart mates. It was great to hang out with Nat + Scott, + - eventually, after hours of chasing - Mat, Sarah + crew. I never did find Sal, which was a bummer. Dancing. Vodka + pineapple juice. Sore legs. Cool kids. I had so so much fun.
It was funny, driving home + thinking back over the last week or so. I felt so happy in the brain-space-bubble of my little car. But I'm in a rubber-band stage right now, bouncing between generic malaise + a sense of great happiness. I had no idea those two states could sit so close to each other but it seems that they can. I'm still recognising that I'm at the aforementioned midway-point, I guess. Wondering what comes next or if anything actually needs to formally Come Next. What a strange time + place we're in, we gen-x, gen-y. So little satisfaction when there is so much to be satisfied about. The new Bloc Party album was speaking to me on the drive. (Patchy as it is, it's still growing on me.) Some of the lyrics from 'Uniform' seemed to sum up the Sydney kids, + by extension, me.
...All the young people looked the same
Wearing their maks of cool + indifference
Commerce dressed up as rebellion
Cos we're so handsome and we're so bored
So entertain us, tell me a joke
Make it long, make it last
Make it cruel, just make me laugh
We can't be hurt, we can't be hurt
Drink to forget your blues on the weekend
Think about more things to buy
The tv taught me how to sulk + love nothing
And how to grow my hair long
You can be happy
Just play dumb
I want to relinquish my spot in the throw-away generation + find more ways to relish what I've got. I mean, seriously, how good is my life!?! Pretty bloody good. Toni gave me a brilliant piece of advice last week + I'm going to adopt it as my new motto. So short but so very sweet...
JUST JUMP IN!
Feeling a little blurred by the action of a Sydney blitz. All the best bits, which somehow simultaneously remind me of why I enjoy visiting + not actually living there! Is that a complete contradiction?
I got to see Steve + Kenan finally. Love those guys. Love the way they insist on treating me to a night at a ritzy restaurant every time I visit them. Loved the food + cocktails at Lotus + was awed, as usual, by the eastern suburbs crowd. Cashed to the hilt. Princess girls with impeccable, tiny outfits + stilt-like stilettos. Boys in the kind of crappy fluro boardshorts + tennis shoes I would've worn to a primary-school sports carnival in 1988. The first of many moments of feeling old. Wanting to shake them + say c'mon guys, make an effort.
Brekky on Saturday with gorgeous Bec + Joel, + the attention-grabbing Tyra. (How much energy can one little staffy contain? I think Tyra could power her own electricity sub-station.) Chorizo, haloumi, brioche, sour cherries + honeycomb butter... spoilt by all the choice that the Gong can't seem to provide.
Next... on to Good Vibrations! The glitz, the glamour, the 80s-style excess. It was nutso! About a zillion people, according to my dubious powers of estimation, in various states of undress + intoxication. Some amazing music, with Beasties + Cassius being my major highlights. Some of my sweetheart mates. It was great to hang out with Nat + Scott, + - eventually, after hours of chasing - Mat, Sarah + crew. I never did find Sal, which was a bummer. Dancing. Vodka + pineapple juice. Sore legs. Cool kids. I had so so much fun.
It was funny, driving home + thinking back over the last week or so. I felt so happy in the brain-space-bubble of my little car. But I'm in a rubber-band stage right now, bouncing between generic malaise + a sense of great happiness. I had no idea those two states could sit so close to each other but it seems that they can. I'm still recognising that I'm at the aforementioned midway-point, I guess. Wondering what comes next or if anything actually needs to formally Come Next. What a strange time + place we're in, we gen-x, gen-y. So little satisfaction when there is so much to be satisfied about. The new Bloc Party album was speaking to me on the drive. (Patchy as it is, it's still growing on me.) Some of the lyrics from 'Uniform' seemed to sum up the Sydney kids, + by extension, me.
...All the young people looked the same
Wearing their maks of cool + indifference
Commerce dressed up as rebellion
Cos we're so handsome and we're so bored
So entertain us, tell me a joke
Make it long, make it last
Make it cruel, just make me laugh
We can't be hurt, we can't be hurt
Drink to forget your blues on the weekend
Think about more things to buy
The tv taught me how to sulk + love nothing
And how to grow my hair long
You can be happy
Just play dumb
I want to relinquish my spot in the throw-away generation + find more ways to relish what I've got. I mean, seriously, how good is my life!?! Pretty bloody good. Toni gave me a brilliant piece of advice last week + I'm going to adopt it as my new motto. So short but so very sweet...
JUST JUMP IN!
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