[Miscellany]

IDOL

I know the man has a slightly annoying accent, looks a good 10 years older than what he is and has basically come out and said "yeah, I know I'm a drunktard but you know what, I think I'm better ON the booze than off so fuck yars all" (may not be an actual quote) but boy am I glad Dicko is back on the tele.

I missed ya mate. I should be angry that you left but the crotchal (made up word) region of my pants is so happy you're back that I've forgiven you. Plus you've got ginger pubes on the other end of the panel totally confused about his role (if any) on the show. If I squint hard enough he's almost not even there anymore! Score!

Meanwhile I've missed a couple of episodes due to having a life (okay that's a lie but anyway) so there are a few things I need cleared up:

1)
WHAT IS UP WITH THIS GUY??! I missed the episode but after seeing this picture I wish I hadn't. Is he the bastard child of Prince and Cyndi Lauper? He looks like a Lost Boy. Please tell me he got through!


And

2)
DID MARCIA HINES CALL ONE OF THE CONTESTANTS A WHORE LAST NIGHT OR WHAT? I know she didn't actually come out and say "girlfriend yous a ho" but there was definitely a 'whore' vibe going on between that strumpet and El Blando.







not to mention

3)
Idol has been on Australian television for, what - 52 years now? You'd think that those fuckers would have worked out by now that when a judge says "sooooooooo, how do YOU think that went?" it actually means "you were SHIT" and they want you to dig your own grave. DON'T, I repeat - DON'T - say 'I thought I was GOOOD I'm soo happy' because you'll only end up looking like a complete moron. No, you were not good you were CRAP and we all feel sorry for you because you had no idea until now. Why do contestants even ANSWER that question? Ugh.


MISCELLANY

* I went and saw this "debate" at the Writers' Festival the other day. It was about God and Myth. It was two guys and a chairperson. Comedy of Comedies - two of the men had speech impediments and the other couldn't hear properly. So the guy who couldn't hear properly had to have everything repeated by the speech impediment guys. It was like God wanted to punish me for going to the seminar in the first place. I admit I went along JUST to see if anyone would start talking in tongues and/or start a punch up but I did not deserve THAT.

* Today my feet totally swelled up for no reason at all. I am certainly not pregnant (unless one of the God guys at the seminar got me in an immaculate conception type way) nor do I eat a lot of salt. The other thing it might be (according to Dr Wikipedia) is that I might be experiencing heart failure. Yay, I feel just peachy now. I just hope I'm pregnant with God's child and I implore you to hope with me. Incidentally if I did come out and say I was pregnant with God's child would you believe me?

* I completely lost it at a child today. I don't know why they love me anyway but somehow they do. It was just a really bad day filled with shitty things that went wrong and that kid was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She knocked down a clay dragon and it broke (someone's work) after I asked for the KAZILLIONTH time for them to be orderly and line up instead of crowding around the dragons. That wasn't why I lost it. I lost it because I asked 'what happened?' and she said 'I don't know it just fell off all by itself'.

...
no, it wasn't cute at the time. On a scale of 1-10 of shitty things to say at that moment 1 being "ooo here's a picture of a fluffy kitten" and 10 being "George Bush is retiring as president of the USA and moving to become the first president of Australia" - I don'tknow it just fell off all by itself ranked about 9.75.

Labels: aching feet, crap reality tele, girfriend, God, idol, pop culture, school, writing

posted by M at 8:02 pm 18 comments

Can't sleep.

Maybe it's the review I have tomorrow with prin that I haven't yet prepared for. Then again, it could be the early taste of spring that has tinged the week with a feeling of imminent change that's done me in. Maybe it's the weekend I struggled so hard to keep from slipping away. Perhaps it's the ice-cream I ate - a little too close to bed time or it's the songs I've been listening to, or the hooting of an owl outside my bedroom window: An ill omen or will Dumbledore be along soon?

Whatever it is, I can't help feeling that too many thoughts do not a restful sleep make. Unfortunately trying not to think only makes you think all the harder.

So to you, Mr Owl outside my window and to you sleepless girls and boys (since we all seem to be keeping time) I dedicate this little tune from the ever haunting Noe Venable. Hold fast to something, because this one takes you on a journey.



Timebird - Noe Venable (live at Mo's Melody Mansion)

(Yes, she was the subject of my very first Musical Monday).

Labels: change, insomnia, musical monday, omen, supersition, time, wonderings

posted by M at 12:43 am 17 comments

This afternoon she smiles knowingly. You see? she teases I can be nice - and nice she is. Golden sunlight stream down between the heavy grey buildings and into her so called famous lane-ways. I walk past those graffitied to perfection in all the right places and those that are dolled up with rows of cafe tables - in order to flirt with a man I'm slightly afraid of. I don't agree with flirting to get what you want, but times are tough and I'm a little desperate.

I arrive at my destination with a bounce still in my step - fresh from a sidewalk packed with sightseers and locals enjoying the surprisingly warm afternoon. I find him in the back of the shop leaning against a wall. He notices me too - how could he not? I have ready to be bought written across my forehead. He by contrast is wearing a hint of sleaze and a gold earring in his ear. He has don't mess with me written across his chest. He could break me without trying I think - but I pretty much think that about all people I meet, though in this case this one I'm guessing actually could.

Against my own will I wonder what it would be like to reach up kiss his full lips - something I wonder about almost all men I come across. I imagine the contrasting tangle of black and white we would create and for a moment I let the daydream creep up along my neck and up to my cheeks. He catches the look and smiles knowingly. This is too easy for him - I smile without any hint of tease, a little embarrassed, and step back. I'm not that girl. I don't know why I thought I could be anything but sincere, even in an exchange that would benefit me.

Back and forth the exchange goes until it seems we both win - or at least both get what we want. I prepare to leave and he looks down at my chest and winks as I step onto the pavement and into the sunlight. My mouth gapes in surprise and I stifle a laugh. Okay, he wins.

I am like a fawn on gangly legs with my newly acquired toy. The old one fit my hand like a glove, and this one is too big, too heavy, too difficult. We argue at each pass - disagreeing with how things should be run. I have the vision but it the technology to make it happen - we haven't learned to work together yet - and I'm just not used to sharing the lead with any dance partner, let alone one that can't talk back. I dip my paintbrush in the light and hand it over - doubtful - this process will take some getting used to.

Labels: art, daydreams, lens, melbourne musings, money, toys

posted by M at 8:34 pm 18 comments

Today I spent the whole day filming with my students for this project we're doing. After school I receieved an email from the regional project manager letting me know that there is a private website where our film crew can write a blog about our experiences. I had to smile to myself when I thought about what these kids would write.

Wednesday August 22nd 2007

Today I got a whole day off from school and guess what?!??!!!! Tomorrow I get ANOTHER whole day off from school as well, just for making a movie! This is the BESTEST DAY EVA!

Signed
Lighting.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

Miss F yelled at me today - she said I was "being irresponsible" and that she "didn't expect the sound manager to be the loudest person on set - especially after filming had already started" - she is sooo picky. I decided to go work on the music for the project while everyone was filming instead - Miss F went nuts at me for not "letting her know where I was going". Considering we took three hours to film 30 seconds of footage I thought it would be better to do something else useful at the same time. What's wrong with that? Miss F keeps looking at the sky and yelling "serenity now" for some reason, then she clenches her fists and lets a sigh of air slowly escape from her mouth so it makes a hissssssing sound. I think she might be spazzing out. I'm scared.

Signed
Audio.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

I do everything in this group I'm so sick of it. First I had to visit each teacher and let them know we were filming and then I had to prepare the set, then I had to write a letter to state parliament to get permission to use some footage we want to use, then I had to track down some sticky tape to stick a sign up, then I had to beg the principal to let us use her office AND I had to organise all the meetings AND I also hold a clip board all day. I don't know why Miss F is looking so stressed when it's clear that *I'm* doing all the work.

Signed
Producer.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

Today I got to yell "quiet on set" because the Audio guy went missing or something. It was soooo cool!!!!!!! Miss F was not happy about him disappearing. She also keeps asking me for the storyboard - how do I tell her I haven't finished yet? She says it's impractical for us to film without a completed storyboard and that I need to 'get it sorted, pronto'. We seem to be doing okay to me. Well maybe it's going a little slowly...

signed
Storyboard.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

I hope Miss F doesn't notice that my camera work is shakey. I'm going through coffee withdrawals.

Signed
Camera man.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

Well, I just don't know what I did to put everyone off side today. Okay so I was 1 hour late to filming and then had a ballet exam so I missed 2 other hours of filming and THEN I told her that I had a music lesson during filming tomorrow. What's the big deal anyway? I'm sure I told her about all this yesterday! It's unfair that she turned away like she couldn't look at me.

Signed
Editor.



Wednesday August 22nd 2007

Months ago I wrote this great script for a movie and today I saw it being ripped apart via the hands of a hoodie wearing emo camera guy and a director who doesn't appreciate context - all in the name of "movie making". I think when I finally write my novel I will make sure it is never turned into a Hollywood movie.

Signed
Script Writer.


Wednesday August 22nd 2007

I just loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove yelling "ACTION". Love it! Love it!
Love.
It!

Signed
Director.

I might keep the blog to myself for a while.

Labels: fake guest post, school, stressed teachers

posted by M at 9:22 pm 18 comments

* So the libs are scratching their heads re: opposition leader K-Rudd being more popular than ever after admitting that he visited the strippers 4 years ago. IMO it's not the fact that he visited the strippers that has made him popular but because he actually was matter of fact and didn't try to lie his way out of it. A politician that admits he was a bit of a "goose"? Sounds good to me - at least we agree on something.

Big surprise I'm sure but I'm not a fan of men who visit strip joints regularly. Yes, yes I accept that 99% of men have been to a strip club - wow. It's when they only keep change in 5 dollar notes and refer to their ladies by name and or go you know..cause it's Tuesday that it's a problem. Bucks night? Okay, fine. Tuesday? Um no, you suck.

Having said that I don't understand why any kind of business meeting takes place in a strip club. Why even try to make it official? Why not just say - hey, after work let's all go watch strippers hump a pole!! YEAAAHHHH *high five* - why the whole ruse about business? Is it about keeping female employees out of any position above secretary? Obviously any chick they invite along to the strip club for business they're doing so in order to intimidate, and harass. I never hear of female "business" taking place inside a male strip club. I don't get it.

But I digress, what is it about politicians pretending they've never done anything wrong - never smoked pot, never downed more than a light beer, never looked at a porno? Come the fuck on, we already think the libs are a bunch of disgusting freaks that need to be neutered before they spread their genes further than necessary (what? Is this opinion wrong?) - as if admitting they're human is going to make matters worse? I say they'd made more friends and influence people if they actually looked like they breathe the same oxygen as the rest of us.

* Prin approached me to let me know that the ex art teacher was coming back to the school and that she wasn't fussed about going back into the classroom herself. Prin told me first because she wanted the choice to be mine. I don't know what to do. In the last two years (about two of you were reading this when I made the original decision to go into the AR in the first place) I've learned that I'm much more capable than I ever imagined. I've gone from classroom management to dealing with distributors, stockists, creating and running my own program, balancing a budget, taking on a multitude of extra roles and also created a very different and dynamic art curriculum that is talked about both inside and outside the school (I get approached by people I don't even know who want to talk about it). Anyway, in terms of the role itself I've never felt more loved and indeed never felt like I've contributed more.

On the other hand I've felt very lonely and frustrated in this role too. Some days, like today I get to my 5th class of doing the same lesson over again and I just want to scream and cry. The staff meetings don't always relate to me and I don't always feel like the work I'm doing is important - this is despite kids coming up to me saying that they want to be an artist now - or parents telling me that their child has never enjoyed art so much. sigh.. I just don't know.

I like the autonomy that the art role affords me but at the same time I miss being part of a team. I hate the idea of having changed the whole program ie: creating an awesome place in the art room with new state of the art equipment (not to mention the media stuff) and then having someone else come in and reap the benefits of that, but at the same time I know I can't sustain this kind of pace forever. If I went back to the classroom I know that I would go back to feeling like my ideas weren't always being taken into consideration and that I'd be playing second fiddle again. I also know that there would be competition between myself and other teachers - especially going back to the level I want to teach at - where the teachers tend to market themselves and I absolutely LOATHE doing. And parents..god they can be horrible to classroom teachers. Then again - I love teaching in the classroom. I love the variety and indeed seeing how children learn and make really important learning steps. I like getting to know them as people rather than as kids I see one hour a week.

What am I going to do?

* I'm also trying to make a choice between two new camera lenses - for personal use. Every retailer I have spoken to says the same thing - it's a coin flip but it depends on what you want to do with it

Honey, I want to do it all.

And this is my problem overall, wouldn't you say?

Labels: art, choices, men, political musings, school, stressed teachers, tarot spread, women

posted by M at 7:13 pm 11 comments

sonnet cxxx

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

I've been thinking a lot about this sonnet by Shakespeare and of how beauty does not create love but that the opposite is true - love creates beauty. I truly believe that for both men and women. It's part of our complexity as humans that we don't see things as they really are all of the time. Then I had a conversation with my friend about post baby bodies and had no idea what to think.

F was saying that due to a number of factors her post baby her boobs aren't as big as what they once were. She and a similar post-breastfeeding friend of hers were wondering about having a boob job to you know..fill up again. I was dumbfounded by why someone who is absolutely angelic looking and in the prime of her life would want to have such a procedure done.

I'm going to go right ahead and make an explosive comment: Do women really hate themselves THAT much?

I know that women are the masters of their own bodies yadda yadda yadda and that if a boob job is actually going to make a woman feel better about herself then what's it anyone's business but her own? I have one word for that: propaganda!

I want to know WHY altering something that is already completely normal makes a woman supposedly feel better in the first place? It's not like an overwhelming amount of women are going into surgery to remove a third breast or something - it's usually to make something that is normal look totally generic. Why is it such a good thing for a women to look generic and why god help me I'm going to kick someone right now, do women totally buy into it? Are we completely and utterly SPAZZTICATED?

Women have boobs and they all happen to be different because duh, we women are all different. Women who have breast implants for themselves have really got to ask themselves why, if they want to do something for THEMSELVES they would want that particular something to look the same as everyone elses something? Where are these messages coming from that would cause women to think that our normal functional boobs are somehow inadequate? Why would we tell that to ourselves? Why aren't we up in arms saying 'fuck you!' about this? Furthermore the scores of women who actually say they're doing it for themselves but survey men on what MEN find attractive about boobs have totally lost me. Let me get this straight you need their opinion because you're ...doing it for...yourself? Riiight.

You want to see something a bunch of women did for THEMSELVES? These women here (click link) accepted that their breasts were completely fantastic because they were actually THEIRS. This is not a work safe site and shows normal breasts that are not pornified (made up word). I encourage you to read the submissions that the women have made about their own breasts and I encourage you to read the visitor comments at the bottom on the page too.

Surely we realise that a man who picks a woman over how perfect her breasts are is a complete moron who we don't really want anywhere near our reproductive organs in the first place. Right? I'm sure they're rapt if their lady friend has really nice ta-tas, don't get me wrong I get that much about men, but for normal penis sporting men in search of a relationship - this is not actually a factor in deciding whether they like you or not, right? If anything men are more contrary and fickle than not when it comes to the subject. They tell the small chested girl that more than a handful is a waste anyway (I hate that saying btw) and the ample bosomed girl that they love big ones. Why do they do this? Well 1) they don't want their arses kicked, 2) it's like my friend said: "the only real boobs are the ones I get to touch". Amen brother.

Basically breast implants are just a big bag of poison (okay, okay foreign matter) inserted into someone's chest. If by some grace of god you don't develop the big C from them then surely you've read the stats on how MOST implants go hard because having foreign material in your body causes your body to start attacking itself and to build a shell around the implant. Not to mention that MANY women have to go back and have them replaced anyway - if you don't your breasts will be deformed. Also it's no big secret that many of them leak and rupture or deflate.

Pro-boob job sites/articles always interview women who have had breast surgery within the last 1-5ish years. It's not to say that all post 5 year implants produce suffering but you rarely hear the success story even 10 years down the track. You hear a lot of 'I wish I never did that' 10 years later actually. I've read studies that show 1/3 of women who have surgery have two ruptured implants (or deflation or something like that) - and up to 67% have ONE implant that has ruptured and needs to be replaced. That shit is fucked up. Don't you think it's fucked up?

Anyway, I was lying in bed the other morning thinking about my friend F and her already lovely boobs and lovely life. I was thinking about her being successful in her career and how she already has the man of her dreams and a gorgeous child I just couldn't figure it out. I ultimately came to this conclusion - no women is ever beautiful enough because all beauty that is held up in consumerist society - by both men and women - is unattainable (I mean it's airbrushed for fucks sake of course it's unattainable). If no women is ever beautiful enough then she will always be vulnerable to feeling inadequate - enter boob job. Women who are totally immune to this either have a strong sense of self and trust completely that they are loved for who they are on the inside or ...I don't know, live alternative lifestyles on the fringe of society rather than the mainstream (?).

Then over the radio came the news that blew both the "doing it for themselves" and "men love all boobs because duh, they're boobs" theory out the window for me.

Zoo Magazine has a competition running, in case you hadn't heard. Male readers get to win fake implants for their girlfriend. Well, FOR their girlfriend... to UNDERGO surgery that is. Could you EVER imagine Cosmo or Cleo Magazine offering women the chance to get their boyfriend penis enlargement surgery? Could you even imagine a woman subscribing to this on behalf of her man? I really can't.

What say you - boob jobs; women empowering themselves or women duped into thinking that they are empowering themselves? What part do men and Zoo have to play in all this anyway? And with my musical Monday in mind - are all women threatened by Jolene and images of women who are perfect?

And now to a song that I only recently grew to appreciate and to a singer whose chest doesn't play even a part in what I think of her music. Funny how that works eh?

Jolene - Dolly Parton



Honorable mention to The White Stripes whom have done a BRILLIANT cover of this song.

Jolene (under the Blackpool lights) - The White Stripes




[I just need to clarify here that I'm not talking about post breast cancer mastectomy augmentation or any medical procedure to do with boobs like back problems or inverted nipples etc]

[I also know women who have had boob jobs who love them, I don't doubt that women love their fake boobs - you'd better love them after spending 10,000 on them, I just wonder why we have to have them in the first place!]

Labels: boobs, men, pop culture, pressure, rant, what men don't see, what women want, why, women, wonderings

posted by M at 1:47 pm 23 comments

I hate haggling.

You'd think that ANYONE would hate bargaining for a price but as it turns out there are some wack jobs out there that actually get off on the to and fro that goes with haggling. I truly doubt the thrill in haggling has anything to do with 'beating the system' (even if you happen to manage to haggle down 50% it's still no skin off anyone's nose) it's purely about the chase that really gets people fired up.

My dad, for instance, was one of those wack jobs who loved doing it. I remember getting my very first tape deck - it was pink with white buttons. It was not a quick process. First, we went to the store and I saw my pink marshmallow and fell in love immediately. I exclaimed "that's the one" and immediately imagined myself putting my Madonna tape right in there and dancing around. My dad brought the guy over and started arguing over the price "too expensive" I remember him saying - "if you don't give us a good deal we're going somewhere else". My visions of dancing to Madonnna while worshiping my pink marshmallow tape deck were slowly dribbling into nothingness. No, I didn't want to go elsewhere for some other, obviously inferior tape deck. I wanted this very perfect one and I wanted it right now. The guy did that annoying thing that salesmen often do - you know the thing "my hands are tied. This is rock bottom". We walked out. I started pouting (okay I think I kicked someone). The guy followed us - okay, ohkaaaay... he'd take off a tenner. My dad was happy - he then mangaged to bargain extra deals for paying with cash and, of course - free batteries (for like, my street jiving).

You know that whole process I just described? Nothing about it appeals to me (except owning the pink tape deck). If I want something, I want it now. I don't want to dance around shrugging shoulders, pretending not to care, walking out, only to walk back in - putting on a sob story, acting tough then nice then tough again. It's pointless to me and wastes my time - I hate getting upset because I know the prices have been jacked up. I'd much rather the prices not be corrupt in the first place so I don't have to worry about it and I can just focus on the product itself instead. Furthermore running around in circles just so I can get 20 bucks off the price of a 2 thousand dollar piece of new electronic equipment that'll be out of warranty sooner than later is something I consider very demeaning. It's also boring - because I know it's a formality that people engage in and indeed that sales people are ready for (they're trained to deflect and appease). I don't want to haggle and struggle through a goddamn process! What kind of a person loves processes over the real deal? I want to get to the good stuff thanks. Leave all that other shit at the door. I know it's why I struggle with the process of 'dating' and men as well as buying a house. I want real, not fake. The game sucks.

If I want to buy something, anything - whether it's a clue an idea or a product I want to walk in, get it settled and walk out again. You know when there are two people flirting like crazy while everyone else is forced to vomit into their baseball caps as they watch the love fest? Well I'm the person that yells "oh for fucks sake get a ROOM". Yeah, that's me.

So with this in mind you can imagine just how frustrated I've been lately - while trying to organise a very costly media related purchase for the school. I'm gathering quotes (which is fine) and comparing quotes (again, fine) but then noticing discrepancies between quotes and having to go back and haggle the price down in a "we're giving you the business now it's your turn to come to the table" kind of way. It's annoying. I'm crossed between a decision that will hopefully bring on the "best" - but the best what I cannot answer. The best price only benefits the finance department and I'm not one for finances. The best equipment is great but it's only great if I utilise it in the best way possible and quite frankly maybe I can't do that with what/who I'm working with. The best outcome might be different for me than what it is for any of the people I'm dealing with, including my own staff who have their own ideas of what 'the best' is. I'm making one decision that will affect a lot of other processes - processes that quite frankly have less to do with me than I ever intended.

After much initial research I've been left to decide between two main contenders - doing a dance with both that is laden with ulterior motives. We all flirt and act coy and carefree with one another but underneath we're in it for ourselves. It's a serious business, very serious - this haggling. In the end I don't know if any of us will win. One will get dumped. One school will get the best price and one company will get business - the controlling factions come out okay, the process wins..

And what of me and him and the other him? We're just the cogs that keep the wheel turning so that it's nicely oiled for the next lot that get on the ride. I don't know if I even want to keep the process going. It's crappy and I want no part of something that's crappy - surely there is an easier way for everyone to get what they want - or at least for everyone to know where they stand? Surely there is something more...real underneath the bullshit that usually goes on.

I mean, aren't we real..us humans? I'm getting all worked up about a decision that is not going to do anything for my soul - and by soul I mean that part of me that is real and without pretension. All this haggling - who benefits anyway? Certainly not the part of me that loves life, that's for sure. So I make the best monetary decision - big fucking deal - what do all those material things mean in the scheme of life, death, love and humanity? I don't just mean money either.

As it goes, I took a step towards putting a nail in the process in my own small way. I put the prices and deals aside, yes I did, and looked at the people I was dealing with. I googled them both - one of them does work for charity - as a personal thing and though he's not the best in terms of a business decision he might just be the better person.
...and maybe that should be enough for anyone.

Labels: analogy, choices, decision and indecision, men, school, women, wonderings

posted by M at 10:14 pm 14 comments

It's likely, they were the first band I heard that made me realise that beauty exists (and indeed thrives) within the midst of pure chaos. I see it as a life lesson. The first few times I heard Cherub Rock, I only heard the crashing drums and ear splitting guitar. There was no melody, rhythm or tune for me - it was just chaotic, messy and far too loud. I scoffed at people who liked it. I can't remember what made me go back and give it another go but I do remember when the song changed from messy to melodic: Mid 90s - bedroom - too lazy to change out of my school uniform - headphones - volume pushed up to 11. It's as though at that moment the sky opened up, all the distortion in the piece ceased to exist and I heard only the elegance and delicacy of the tune. I couldn't believe it had taken me that long to hear it - it was right there, under all the noise. I felt so dumb. Try as I might I can't go back and hear that messy sound anymore - it doesn't exist to me. It's like another musical door opened that day and I went through it and never looked back. Is this what happens when people find "the one" in life and love?

Ahhh Smashing Pumpkins; I soon fell in love with the mix of heavy guitar with breathtaking melody. As for the lyrics, well Billy Corgan might be a bit of a git but he knows how to rearrange words until they fit exactly right. To me, lyrics are incredibly important to a song - whether it's political or poetic I don't care, but if the music makes me feel in my heart AND mind then I know it's especially good. That's not to say that I don't enjoy a good instrumental - I was reared on classical music after all, I played it for a long time. But we're in a whole different section of music store here. Billy is especially good - not close to Nick Cave - but very good. I respect the writer in him that knows how to twist a tale through lyrics.

Around this time, Artist Cousin and I were fast becoming obsessed with buying music magazines that cost an arm and a leg. We bought and shared them to cut down on costs. She was the big Smashing Pumpkins fan - far bigger than I. The difference was that she was in love with Billy and I wasn't. I just loved the music. This is especially interesting since given the chance I'm one to romanticise any leading man to superstar status. Not this one though. My eyes bypassed Billy Pumpkin and went straight to Iha and D'arcy.

I was in year 12 and my father was about a year in the ground when Mellon Collie.. came out. Like all albums I listened to around that time it has become immortalised to 'music which changed my life'. I put it down to this: music is more defining and important when you're fighting against every urge to jump off the nearest tall building. Hence in order to really cement my inner feelings bout the whole thing I bought one of those "zero" t-shirts and wore it until it literally had holes all the way through it. What did I do after that happened? Well I just patched up the holes and kept wearing it of course. It's funny though, despite the whole zero shirt fiasco - I probably haven't listened to Mellon Collie in about 9 years. Siamese Dream is always close by and close to my heart though. I pick that one over the others. As it goes, I've ignored the post-head shave, neo-gothic, bad tempered, line-up changing, pleather sporting Pumpkins of now anyway. I don't want to know them. I'm not even remotely interested. Funny how we hold fast to that which we see as important - refusing to admit that the way of the world is that things inevitably ...change.

I saw them in concert just before the big overhaul. They were amazing. So let's leave it there - right there - zero t-shirt wearing young girl in a mini and tights with pink laces, swallowed up by the crowd and drowning in wave after rolling wave of exquisite loveliness.



Obscured - Smashing Pumpkins

Cherub Rock - Smashing Pumpkins



(thanks chai for the player info!)

Labels: memories, music, musical monday

posted by M at 11:50 pm 20 comments

This week there has been a birth, a mourning, a silly dress up day and I went to view a house in a suburb that has the same name as a popular grammy award winning song by daggy 70s band. I've had the offending song in my head all week long. If I do end up moving to this suburb I have to wonder if I will have the song permanently embedded there. I wouldn't put it past my brain to do something like that. Perhaps I should look for places in suburbs that have no associations with 70s bands.

* I've upped my house hunting from 0 to hero in the last couple of weeks. Searching dropped off last year when I realised that I have no buying power. Now I'm back - still with little buying power (and higher interest rates) - but I've stopped looking at Victorian single fronted cottages with open fireplaces. That was a hard dream to let go of. A girl like me deserves an open fire place dammit but I figure that since I squeal at all things creepy crawly then I really shouldn't have a gaping hole in my (imaginary) house. I also figure that if I want a fireplace I can always light one in a garbage can out the front of my future house. I'm feeling that would be okay in the kind of neighbourhood I'm looking at.

* Across to a nicer side of town my friend, S sits in her hospital room having just given birth to a baby that has been rushed to another hospital, pending an operation that may or may not work. She asks for my prayers - not being religious herself. Not being religious myself I don't know how to offer that either. I send out into the universe the only thing I can and that is hope. Hope that things go well, hope that she has the strength to get through whatever comes and an ear... should she need it.

* School has brought with it a silly dress up day coupled with a theme. I must say, school communities these days are much more involved then they were in the 80s when I went to school. Almost all teachers made a supreme effort as did students. I put on a black wig to commemorate a character and was told by half the staff that I should go black and the other half that they're glad I'm closer to honey. All the kids did a double take - hilarious.

* One Aspergers child at our school has a new obsession - music. He's 7 and right into bands like Talking Heads, The Ramones, Bow Wow Wow, Coldplay, Mozart etc. I knew he had okay tastes when he proclaimed loudly in class the other day that Rhianna's "Umbrella" sounded like a dog dying on the street. I laughed and laughed. Being Aspergers his mind has already worked to categorise hundreds if not thousands of songs he's come across into neat little boxes inside his head. He can name songs in correct order on all the albums he has come across. Being an especially bright kid (on top of the Aspergers) he has already figured out how to apply for a credit card on the internet and start downloading many songs legally. I don't know how a 7 year old got his own credit card (yes, he put in his correct DOB) but let me tell you his parents weren't impressed. We have a few Aspergers children at the school and they are all so different from each other, all with varying degrees of the condition. I wonder what this one especially going to be like as an adult - he has quite a severe case.

* My friend M has suffered a miscarriage. About 1 in 4 women do, apparently and I know many, many, many who have. This is an especially devastating blow for M though because it was a bit of a minor miracle the pregnancy happened in the first place. I'm seeing her tomorrow. I'm banking on it being a bit of an emotional get together.

Labels: babies, friends, house, music, news, random

posted by M at 7:45 pm 23 comments

G: I have all these single earrings all lined up now.
#2 : oh you should get rid of them. It's depressing having all these displaced earrings. You're not going to find the other one. It gets confusing.
G: I will NOT throw them away. Us single things must stick together. They shall not be cast aside and thrown on the rubbish heap because they are unworthy and alone just because they are not part of a pair.
Exactly!

me: so what you're saying is that angry women actually get results.
G, #2, E: YES! EXACTLY!
me: so...we should be angry more often?
G, #2, E: YES!
Em: it's a good thing.
Me: what about all those people that think I might be deranged?
#2; Well yes, that could be a bit of a problem
When girls stand up for themselves in an assertive manner it's always seen as 'being angry' for some reason.

Me: I'd like a new job but I have no other skills or talents.
#2; oh well that could be an issue.
Me: yes quite.
Em: You could be a commedian on the radio. You could do that.
Me: No I couldn't. I'd be terrible.
Em: Whenever I hear that Adam Richards guy on fox I think of you.
Me: Adam Richards..the reeeeally gay bloke who is in love with Paris Hilton?
Em: YES! That's him. He's sooo funny.
Me: right...great. I'm not only the crazy lady AND I'm also a gay bloke! I can't think why I'm not happily married.
Em: yes.
greeeaaat

kid: Miss H! Miss H!
Miss H: now, kids remember what I told you about that "that's my name buuuuut..."
all 21 children in her grade in unison: "but don't wear it out"
Miss H: that's right.
Me: Oh. My. God.
Teachers do many things to amuse themselves

me: what are the body corporate costs of this place?
Stupid estate agent: well actually, you realise that they're not "costs" per se. It takes care of maintenance etc
me: I know what body corporate does, I just was wondering how much it costs per year or quarter
stupid estate agent: well as I said, it's NOT a cost, it's an investment that pays for things that might go wrong etc"
me: So you're saying that if nothing goes wrong then you don't have to pay a fee? *not waiting for him to answer* No, that's right right - you pay for it anyway regardless of whether anything goes wrong or not. That makes it a cost, and when you're paying your mortgage off you need to take into account ALL costs, which this happens to be one of
Stupid estate agent: ...it's not a cost.
...speaking of angry women

G: Is it just me or the more breeding our friends do the less you actually want to get pregnant yourself?
hahaha - well you certainly don't need a stroller for a puppy.

Labels: quotegirl

posted by M at 9:50 pm 16 comments

"Is this...? Is it...? Oh it's him..that Morrissey! I haaaaaate him" she groaned passionately. "How can you listen to that?"

"Well, it's The Smiths actually - what's to hate? There is only love here". I say matter of factly. "Only love" I add for emphasis.

"My sister used to listen to him all the time during year 12 and draw these pictures of Morrissey. I hate him"

That would be my work colleague saying that, with her hands thrown up and looking a little miffed. She happened to walk in while I was playing The Smiths very loudly as I prepared the materials for my next class. I don't know what it is about The Smiths that get people so riled up but someone always has some sort of opinion on them.

It's embarrassing but since those who read these ramblings of mine already understand just how much of a dork I am I'm going to share how I first became acquainted with The Smiths. I was first introduced to The Smiths via the character Spike from Degrassi Junior High - yes that's right that funny little pre-teen Canadian show (that I'm still a big fan of by the way). She wore the band t-shirts quite often and I, being a fan of her character thought that whoever they were they were obviously cool. So the seed had been planted like that, you see. Sometimes things work out that way.

It really wasn't until quite a few years later that I actually realised how awesome they were - Morrissey's witty lyrics combined with Marr's brilliant guitar became the soundtrack to my university life.

I guess the cliche of The Smiths is that it's sad sack music for disaffected youth. Okay, fine I understand that - Morrissey's lyrics aren't exactly sunshine and lollypops - they are a product of Thatcher's Britain after all. Then again the instrumental behind the lyrics isn't sad music at all - it's upbeat and it's rhythmic, even poppy. Not exactly music to lay down and die by. I enjoy the juxtaposition of music and lyrics very much.

That being said - I listened to them most often in that period of my life where everything was black except for the music. Imagine a pin prick of light that grows just a little bigger every time you play a song and here you have how I felt about music then - and The Smiths were part of that. I don't exactly know how I made it through the smoke except to attribute it to the music - and for the record there was lot of music involved not just The Smiths.

Unless you've been there in that kind of hopeless situation then you don't know what something seemingly arbitrary like music can mean but I take it that there are a few people who do know what I'm talking about because they have been affected by music to the point where their life is changed by it too. We're the true fans who have given the music life beyond the record. I know it's a cliche but it's true. The Smiths were around at a time where nothing else but music could get through to me. They're part of the significant and important soundtrack of my life. That's not to diminish the cause because soundtracks are some of my favourite of all albums.

Maybe the truth of the matter is that nice, well adjusted people with a halo like glow around them don't listen to The Smiths. I know one other person who really loved them. "I listen to them every night. I listen to them when I'm stoned" she said once. A few years later she was living Girl, Interrupted lifestyle complete with hospitalisation so...I don't know - maybe only a certain type of brain chemistry finds The Smiths worthwhile. You do have to wonder: "what came first, the music or the misery?" but for me any misery had came before. The Smiths have made me feel nothing if not alive.

As for the offended song that prompted the diatribe above. Why of course, it was this one. I've played it on the journal before, but it's worth a second go. It's the brilliant and perfect This Charming Man.

This Charming Man - The Smiths

Labels: music, musical monday, musings, sad sack

posted by M at 3:38 pm 23 comments

It's almost midnight and I'm sitting in a comfy booth in Brunetti's eavesdropping on the conversation to my right. A group of about seven 20 somethings are huddled around a too small table and speaking animatedly and loudly - which is pretty indicative of the vibe here anyway. I remember the golden rule of Brunetti's: always circle for a table before you order, otherwise you might find yourself with a coffee but nowhere to sit or a table built for two but awkwardly accommodating 7.

Their conversation is indicative of university life. Going out on a weeknight, what lecturers they hate and what late assignments they still have to think up an excuse for. I find myself both wanting to be a part of their world and yet also happy that I'm not. My companion comes back with a selection of cakes and two cups of steaming coffee. I grab the cup with both hands and bring it up to my cheek, feeling the warmth there.

We're discussing a movie we'd both seen recently: The Last Kiss: L'Ultimo Bacio. A movie about a group of 20-something men who are scared of being trapped into marriage, babies and women. I lament these 20-something men, "does it get worse when they are 30 something I wonder"? My companion is being evasive "..yeeessss" he says slowly drawing the sound out until the last hiss disappears into the laughter of the coffee drinking crowd. "But it not true for everyone".

I make the sound I feel is most appropriate for this statement of his: "Duh".

I take my fork and make an incision into the Tiramisu, it doesn't taste as good as Tiramisu from a pasticceria section with this reputation should. I remember back to my own unimelb days when Brunetti was just a hole in the wall, a place for locals and people who 'knew' where to go for decent coffee and cake. I look at the procession line of people waiting and serving, of cakes handed over at lightening speed and the ever present crowd. Brunetti has suffered the fate of most places which get too popular and corporatised; the quality goes down. I wonder if the same is true for people, for writers, for music, anything.

"How crap is this Tiramisu?" I groan.
"It's sooo bad" he puts his fork down.

"I know 'not everyone'". I sigh - if this conversation is going to take this particular defensive route then I don't want to play. The problem is that you could apply the "not everyone" rule to anything. Not all politicians lie so does that make a difference (generally speaking) to the perception that do? Not all people living in the third world are poor and starving, does that negate the fact that most are?

"ohkaaaay, there is *some* realism to the movie though, right?" I persist.

"yeeeessss" he makes the sound again.

I offer him a nugget "women get scared of commitment too. It's not like men have got the market cornered on that. But in the end if we want love and babies we actually you know act like we want that. Why do men who obviously want love and babies, take so long to realise it?"

"I think a lot of men in their late 20s think they can have anything and anyone. If they still have that same mentality in their 30s then it's because they're idiots" he says simply.

"hmm" The answer doesn't really answer anything and yet, I know what he's trying to say. I actually know quite a few men who have married their first love. They saw a good thing and they took the chance. I know a couple of people who did that and have regretted it too. I know men in their late 20s and early 30s who don't want to be trapped by marriage. I know a few older who want marriage and kids but are wondering where all the women are.

"Is it better to take the chance and marry someone you love, because you love them, or chase the elusive dream of the perfect woman/man which may or may not come along?". I blurt.

"I guess it depends on how happy you are to be lonely" He says matter of factly. "I don't think anyone with such a list will be happy with a human female - OR MALE. They need a fembot"

"manbot" I add.

We laugh.

We've moved onto the other cake now, a chocolate mouse. The chocolate tastes like it's been in the fridge too long.

"This is terrible" I gesture to the mouse.
"This is officially the worst food we've had here" he adds.
"At least the coffee is good" I sigh.

"well, I guess this is the thing isn't it? I mean a list is a list but if you're with someone and you're in love then what makes someone say - "hey I know I'm in love but I'm just going to try for someone who's also a pole dancer, I always wanted to marry a pole dancer"

"well, those would be the idiots I talked about earlier".

"Well why do so many people I know have lists then?"

"I can't help it if you're friends with idiots".

"YOU'RE an idiot". I flick a bit of stale chocolate at him.

****

But seriously. Love or list?

And what about those people can't even DO love WITHOUT the "perfect person" list? What's up with them? Are they idiots or are they normal?

(by list I don't mean "someone who loves me, someone who is caring" etc type of list that is about human decency and what anyone DESERVES. I mean a specific 'perfect person' list" "A blonde. Someone who is a size 0. Someone who plays in a band" etc)

Labels: melbourne musings, men, questions, the list, women, wonderings

posted by M at 12:03 pm 27 comments