[Miscellany]

I didn't intend on the hiatus.  No, really I didn't.  All I can think of by way of explanation is that it became hard to breathe again.  Not that I need an explanation of course, except perhaps to myself.

The beginning of October saw the 19th anniversary of my father's death.  It was the hardest milestone to live through that I can remember. Some years go by with barely a thought but last year was different.  I felt his absence, almost as badly as I felt it 19 years ago. I felt it in every pore and every thought.  I felt it with a deep, intense sadness that sticks around even today. I wish I could let it go.  I feel that by hanging on to it, I'm hanging on to his ghost somehow and stopping him somehow from finding peace.  It makes me feel even worse as I try to extract myself and to loosen this grip that seems to be so strong around him.

The thing is, I don't remember much about him; I've lived more than half of my life without him and time only ever moves forwards, not backwards.  I will never know more than what I know now and what does a 16 year old know about her father anyway?  I have been thinking a lot about the things I missed out on though and the things I learnt too early but wished I hadn't.  Things like; men leave.  I know it's not a truth, but it is my truth and it's something I learnt the hard way.  That notion has shaped my adulthood.  I can't change it.  I can't take it back.  I can't bring back the lost years either.  Time is difficult to deal with and though I am conscious of the ridiculousness of some of the notions I have they are also not without basis and therefore all the more difficult to let go.

I'm not even sure why, but I've thought about my father every day for the past 3 months since the anniversary of this death.  I've thought about the funny things he would say, or his smile or his advice... none of it is real.  It's all nostalgia - memories changed and I'm sure some made up completely.  The dead take on a ripe glow; all the past mistakes forgotten.  You forget the things you hated and you revere the things you loved until they become an object of only love.  It's not real and it's unfair for those left behind but this is what happens. Meanwhile, I didn't know grief could still feel this bad but it does.  It feels awful.  I wish I could go back for one last hug.  A real one.  It feels like a long, long time since I had a real hug from someone who really loved me.

I suppose the other reason I've been absent is the perpetual elephant in the room An awakening of sorts for me.  But what an awakening - every piece of my heart sings or sinks at any given moment.  On the one hand it's lovely to wake up to it but on the other hand - tear my heart out why dontcha?  I'd forgotten about this part... I'm reminded of John Hughes' movie 16 Candles.  The dad gives a newly 16 year old Molly Ringwald some fatherly advice:

Sam: "I know, but it hurts..."
Sam's Dad: "Thats why they call them crushes, if they were easy they'd call 'em something else."

And so from someone who lost their father at 16 and who never had the chance to have a bit of fatherly advice; thanks John Hughes.  I get it.  It hurts.  Everything at the moment hurts.

Labels: boys, death, love, love or lust, memories, memory, nostalgia

posted by M at 1:39 am 5 comments

I will always associate Crunchie chocolate bars with my Uncle R. He would bring them with him every single time he came to visit. When you are 8 years old and you are given Crunchie every time a particular person comes to visit - you very quickly develop a Pavlovian response to that person. Beat up old Holden in the driveway = saliva. Never fails.

If everyone has a crazy Uncle, then mine is R. He would refer to Christmas at Easter time, make stupid jokes at the wrong moment and do the Mexican party cry YOW YOWYOWYOW in the middle of an otherwise sedate family dinner. Definitely not for the fainthearted - or for the sensitive of hearing either.

He died today.

I don't know what else to say about that - except that it wasn't really a party at the end, nor was there a Crunchie in sight. Eventually he went peacefully, but it was a struggle for years and years.

I wish I knew how to deal with this in a normal way. I've not cried or blubbered once. I'm just dazed and feeling kind of worried, with a bit of dread settling deep somewhere in my belly - though I can't tell you why or what for. I want for nothing else than to be a blubbering, snotty mess and unable to cope. At least I know that reaction isn't forever - it's a truck stop on the way to a better place. Instead, I don't know what to do with with what I've got but I have a feeling I'm going to be stuck with it for a while.

Labels: change the colour of your day, family, feel like crap, nostalgia

posted by M at 11:13 pm 7 comments

It's the first time in about seven years that I've contemplated buying an umbrella. I've gotten used to not needing one, gotten used to the stability in the weather and the dryness in the air, gotten used to a belief that clouds do not equal rain and have become comfortable in the consistency of there being no rain. Lately it's been raining a lot and I'm always caught out. It always seems to happen when I'm too far from my car, or wearing something inappropriate. Why it can't rain when I'm already planning a day inside is beyond me?

On Friday afternoon I stood outside talking to a parent after school when suddenly the sky opened, interrupting our conversation and dropped a motherload on us. We all ran for shelter; children, toddlers, grandpas, parents and teachers - screaming and laughing and commenting on the rain. Then we stood in silence and watched the fat, heavy raindrops blanketing the playground in sheets and sheets of water.

Some children ran into the puddles, stomping their feet and smiling up at the sky while others twirled and danced and laughed. The boys, of course ran for the drain pipes, soaking their legs and arms in the heavy waterfall that rushed down onto them. No one tried to stop them. No one called them back. This was a rare moment we had all shared when we were small but was foreign to this new generation. Let them play. Let them try to catch rain in their mouths. Let them get completely soaked.

The adults smiled and watched and remembered their own Melbournian childhoods, filled with days of unpredictable rain and of not being allowed outside to play, savouring the nostalgia of a forgotten memory, finally unlocked.

These are the first children that will grow up knowing the sound of rain hitting a hot tin roof as they fall asleep. The drought is broken. Welcome to Melbourne.

Labels: childhood, kids, melbourne musings, memories, nostalgia, rain

posted by M at 1:21 pm 4 comments

I was reading through some of my old handwritten diaries and came across my first mention of cyberspace. It went something like this:

I'm finally on the internet and chatting to ppl [sic]. It's great to find other people as apathetic about life as I am.

Seriously.

Reading back over your old diaries is always a painful experience in some form or another. The online diary is a much more sanitised and pine-o-cleaned version of one's life. The written diary has guts and tears splashed all over it because, bottom line, you never think that anyone will read it. It's petty, it's raw, it's completely pathetic and always embarrassing. It's complete ego. Unedited ego at that. I've come to realise that the only online diaries that are true representations of ourselves are the whiny, badly written and always self-centered posts written by 16 year old Emo freaks who feature bad poetry (but think it's good). Sorry, but you know it's true.

Reading back over the unedited ego of a younger me I feel a small tinge of shame and also a strange urge for 30 year old me to reach out to 20 year old me and give her a hug. God knows she needed it. Who knew that such a boring life could have so many dramas? I dredged up a lot of memories about things I swore I would never forgive (but did) and events I told myself I would remember forever (but didn't) and pacts I'd made with myself (but broken, many times over). Funny how that happens.

Back then I was rather bitter about the blossoming relationship between my friend E and her partner L. I was quite happy for them to be in love mind you, but not of where that left me (ie: without my friend). I featured a good many entries on the subject of times that were supposed to be best friend time but were horribly ruined by the boyfriend tagging along. E was very fond of making plans with me and then changing them at the last minute to include L. I really resented it.

I wonder why he agreed to tag along? Do boyfriends really want to spend time with their girlfriend's best friends or are they just doing it because they were bullied by their girlfriends? These days the girls are dying for time out from the husbands and babies! I don't see the husbands all that often these days (unless of course I'm at their houses). It's funny how things change.

Maybe it was incredibly ego-centric of me to be so concerned about my own feelings on the matter of boyfriends encroaching on best friend time but I have to be honest and say that if it happened now I'd still be pissed.

Maybe things haven't changed all that much.

Labels: boys, girfriend, memories, nostalgia, old, silly rabbit, wonderings

posted by M at 8:07 pm 19 comments

I love Easter, mostly because it's the celebration of our great lord chocolate. I also like that everyone is forced to adhere to the stringent guidelines of TWO, yes count them TWO holidays away from the shops and most people are so drugged out from consuming vast amounts of our lord God that the mood tends to be calm, rather than tcstressed and frenzied. I much prefer it to Christmas (the consumerist holiday), which let's face it is always marred by having to face numerous hours at the shopping mall trying to find the "perfect present" for other people. Chocolate in itself IS the perfect present so it's like Easter just takes all the brain work out of it. I approve. Yes I do.

This meme has been making the rounds lately. Basically you take a bunch of movie quotes and people try to guess them. I've got 20 here. Some of them come from my favourite movies, though not all my faves are represented. Some of them are just really cool quotes that I like. I think that movies are filled with pockets of wisdom. I love movie quotes. I love movie soundtracks. Being in a cinema is perhaps my most favourite place in the world to be. I can't think of one other place where I feel more at home. Some choose life. I choose film.


So here are the rules of the meme. Guess the movie. Try not to google - but hey I'm not going to hold it against you if you do. God knows I've cheated with the old song lyric and movie quote test in my time.


1
I realise the shell is empty; thre's no point to any of this. It's all a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. A quarter pounder with cheese (those are good), the sky about 10 minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle...
(Reality Bites - Answered by Phil)


2
It has an under-taste. A chalky under-taste.

quote 2 - Witches... All of them witches!

quote 3 - Come with us quietly, Rosemary. Don't argue or make a scene. Because if you say anything more about witches or witchcraft, we're gonna be forced to take you to a mental hospital. You don't want that, do you?
(Rosemary's Baby - Answered by Rowena)

3
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns or watching violent videos afraid that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands, of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery, and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
(High Fidelity - Answered by Phil)


4
She's fair game, Joe. It's always open season on princesses.
(Roman Holiday - Answered by Marion)


5
What am I gonna say? 'I killed the president of Paraguay with a fork. How have you been?'
(Grosse Pointe Blank - Answered by Phil)


6
- You were a bluebird. You were a Brownie. You were a girl-scout cookie. I got you into a Remington party and what's my thanks!? It's on the hallway carpet! I got paid in puke!
- Lick it up baby. Lick it up!

quote 2 - Ram and I died the day we realised we could never reveal our forbidden love to an uncaring and un-understanding world. The joy we shared in each other's arms was greater than any touchdown. Yet we were forced to live the lie of sexist, beer-guzzling, jock assholes!

(Heathers - Answered by General Boy)


7
- What are you afraid of, a fate worse than death?
- No, just death. Isn't that enough?

quote 2 - Monkey's brains, though popular in Cantonese cuisine, are not often to be found in Washington D.C.

quote 3 - This is war, Peacock! Casualties are inevitable. You cannot make an omelet with out breaking eggs, every cook'll tell you that.
- But look what happened to the cook!


8
- Are you the president's dog trainer?
- I'm John Dean, Chief Whitehouse counsel.
-...ohh that's too bad.
(Dick - Answered by Phil)


9
- She's like a queen bee with her pick of the drones.
- I'd say she's doing a woman's hardest job: juggling wolves.

quote 2 - -Why does a man leave his house three times on a rainy night and come back three times?
-Maybe he likes the way his wife welcomes him home.

quote 3 - He killed a dog last night because the dog was scratching around in the garden. You know why? Because he had something buried in that garden that the dog scented.
- Like an old hambone?
- I don't know what pet names Thorwald had for his wife.
Rear Window (Answered by Egghead)


10
- Speak for yourself.
- Do you think I'd speak for you? I don't even know your language!

quote 2 - Does Barry Manilow know that you raid his wardrobe?
(The Breakfast Club - Answered by Phil)



11
I'm taking a remedial high school art class for retards and fuck-ups.

quote 2- Dear Josh, we came by to fuck you but you were not home. Therefore you are gay, signed Tiffany and Amber.

(Ghost World - Answered by Jezzy)



12
Keep icing your front bottom!

quote 2 - It says 12 original songs by Dr. Desmond Forrest Oats. I'll tell you what it doesn't say...it doesn't say additional lyrics by little ms sassy pants.

quote 3 - - You know that song Pocket Full Of Dreams?
- Yah, down here we call it Pocket Full of Ass.



13
- Can I trouble you for a glass of warm milk?
- You can trouble me for a glass of shut the fuck up.

quote 2 - My fingers hurt.
- What is that?
- My fingers hurt.
- Oh, well now your back's gonna hurt because you just pulled garden duty. Anyone else's fingers hurt?
(Happy Gilmore - Answered by Jac)


14
I'm asking you to marry me you little fool!

quote 2 - Mrs. Danvers I want you to get rid of all these things
- But these are Mrs. De-Winters things
-I am Mrs. De-Winter now

(Rebecca - Answered by Hayley)


15
- Are you ready to order?
- Yes, goddammit. I'm going to have the fucking poached salmon, with the son-of-a-bitching rice, and a dirty bastard salad with a shitload of Roquefort dressing. Thank you. And um, who knows what this asshole wants.
-Uh, I'll just take a fucking beer.

quote 2 - Oh, that's just what we call ourselves, you see. I'm a United States Marine. It's okay if we say it but if a squid says it (ya know a sailor) then it's fist city! But it's alright if, er, a woman says it, especially if she can sing as good as you can.

quote 3- My name's Buell, but people call me Oakie...You can call me Oakie... If you want to...
Dogfight (Answered by Ethelinde)



16
- You got a joint?
- No
- ...Be a lot cooler if you did!
(Dazed and Confused - Answered by Phil)


17
- Can you stop watching TV for a minute?
- No.
- Why?
- Because. I had a bad day at work. I had to subvert my principles and kow-tow to an idiot. Television makes these daily sacrifices possible. Deadens the inner core of my being.
(Trust - Answered by Phil)


18
We knew the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love, and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.
(The Virgin Suicides - Answered by Phil)



19
You're not shy. You're a lawyer.

quote 2 - This letter has three typing errors in it, one of which is, I believe, a spelling error.
(Secretary - Answered by Amanda)


20
Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place
(Picnic at Hanging Rock - Answered by Phil)


Since we're talking movies I'm going to reference one of my all time favourite movie soundtracks for Musical Monday today; Dazed and Confused. I was introduced to Dazed and Confused via Bro, who bought the soundtrack and borrowed the movie from the video store before I had even heard of it. I am known as a bit of a movie freak among my friends but to be truthful I am nothing on my brother. Let's put it this way, back in the day all major video stores knew my brother by name. Not just one video store, all of them. I don't visit the video store quite so often but I am a regular at the cinema. I go often. Very often. Without hesitation most of my disposable cash goes there. If I'm down to my last $20, more often than not I'm spending it on one last film before I'm forced into baked bean territory. Is it an addiction? Yes, but happily so.

Movie soundtracks are some of my favourite albums to buy too - and Dazed and Confused is one of those soundtracks that started out as my Bro's but is now mine. I stole it. I reason that it belonged with me all along. I came across it at a time where I was really getting into 70s music and interested in the 70s in general. I still have a fascination with the era. It was an era that existed (it seemed) in retaliation to the peace/love philosophy of the hippies. By the time Watergate happened the illusion of 'we shall overcome' was well and truly over. Reality had set in and what a gritty one it was. The 70s were MESSY, politically speaking, musically speaking, culturally speaking... and I love that about it. Music during the 70s was amazing. Like with anything there is bad AND good, but there was such a strong mix of styles which all competed to come out on top. Disco, pop, rock, metal, punk, RnB - all really took hold in the 70s. Furthermore, a lot of the music I loved in the 90s was a throw-back to 70s punk and rock and so I became a little obsessed with movies in the 90s that referenced the 70s and likewise became enamored of the soundtracks too. I remember the 80s being an era of "hate the 70s" - and a direct reaction to it - much like the 70s was to the 60s. It's funny how that happens.

Anyway, Dazed and Confused has a solid soundtrack and the movie itself is front and centre on my shelf. If you haven't seen it, I strongly recommend it - not just for the music but for the 'coming of age', the social commentary, the humour and the nostalgia. It's brilliantly made.

As for the songs. I find it hard to pick a few. My first choice was Stranglehold - Ted Nugent, but I can't find it on RBClub. These will have to do.

Slow Ride - Foghat


Low Rider - War


Remember the movie meme!

Labels: 70s, cinema, meme, movies, musical monday, nostalgia

posted by M at 7:11 pm 32 comments

Finally. FINALLY a politician has come out and said what needed to be said re: education. It's so simple and full of common sense that I'm surprised it isn't said more often, or quite frankly done more often.

Barak Obama would have my vote (if it counted), based only on this speech, if nothing else. Surely a man who is so practical in this area must be practical in other areas too.

Here's the taped footage..



But for those of you unwilling to watch (oh it's an eye opener alright) - he hits gold at about the 3 minute mark with this gem:

“It’s not good enough for you to say to your child, ‘Do good in school,’ and then when that child comes home, you’ve got the TV set on,”

“You’ve got the radio on. You don’t check their homework. There’s not a book in the house. You’ve got the video game playing.”

“So turn off the TV set. Put the video game away. Buy a little desk. Or put that child at the kitchen table. Watch them do their homework. If they don’t know how to do it, give ‘em help. If you don’t know how to do it, call the teacher.”

“Make ‘em go to bed at a reasonable time! Keep ‘em off the streets! Give ‘em some breakfast! Come on! Can I get an amen here?”

“You know I’m right,”

“And, since I’m on a roll, if your child misbehaves in school, don’t cuss out the teacher! You know I’m right about that! Don’t cuss out the teacher! Do something with your child!”

HELL YES! FINALLY the truth is out. Parents, need to parent. Weird idea I know, but the way I see it is if you have them, then you should raise them. Education doesn't stop and start at the school gate.

I can't remember any time when any politician has made such a statement about individual responsibility - that is, even though it's true. The students I see succeeding are students who:

1) come from money (I don't necessarily mean rich but I do mean they don't have many worries about money for instance; they DO NOT have to worry about the basics, food, water, shelter - and by extension emotional support - yes it's related)
2) come from families that INSIST, hard line, on all those things Obama talks about in his speech.

It's not about catering for gifted and talented children. Or blaming teachers for not teaching properly and thus creating a panic about our test results (for the record Australia has one of the BEST education systems in the world, backed up by world data (OECD - PISA). However the way the media carries on you'd think we were failing). Bottom line is that we need to start being practical about this stuff.

How do we expect kids to learn, if they aren't getting any support at home? Any teacher in the world will tell you that it is a FACT that children who don't get home support by and large struggle. If they don't then they are doing so against the odds. We see exactly how home life helps and hinders children in the classroom. Thinking a child turns the home switch off when they enter a classroom is a mistake politicians have made for far too long when it comes to making policies about in classroom curriculum. This is not the way to improve the way kids learn. We can't ignore the influence of the most important people in a child's life: their parents! It's time a mirror was held up. I'm glad the day has come.

------

Enough ranting, onto Musical Monday - which takes me back to the early 90s waiting for the school bus on windy spring afternoons with my friend Gil. The bus stop was in front of this charming, well maintained art deco house inhabited by a lovely elderly gent who would always wander outside to chat to the youngsters stepping all over his roses with scruffy black shoes and socks that just wouldn't stay up. One day - and I remember it well for some reason - Gil told me about this band she'd heard about called The Sundays - and they, along with Ratcat were her new favourite bands. I thought it sounded like a whimsical name for a band and later discovered they really were rather whimsical sounding in music as well.

Whenever I hear The Sundays I think of Gil and springtime and how we impatiently waited for the bus every afternoon, and how often I'd just pack it in and walk home instead - stopping every few meters to pull up my socks and adjust the volume on my walkman.

I heard the old guy died not too long after I finished high school. I drove past that art deco house the other day but it was graffitied and condemned. I wonder why no one has bought and renovated it? It's a sad sight and a ghostly remainder from a more glorious time.

Here's Where the Story Ends - The Sundays

Labels: memories, money, musical monday, nostalgia, political musings, school, stressed teachers, yes I am taking politics

posted by M at 9:25 pm 18 comments

I was introduced to the Sneaker Pimps through my friend D who played the album Becoming X for me one afternoon over 10 years ago now, as I sat in her living room sipping a cold coke and she enjoying (not) the heady come down of a different kind of drug. When I first met her in high school she was completely horse mad and one of those people I thought was going to grow up riding dressage or owning a racehorse and saying "tah-tah" a lot while sipping champagne (I imagine anyway). If you'd have told me in year 9 that by the time we had our drivers licenses she'd be sporting an Astro Boy t-shirt, colourful plastic bracelets and a nose ring I'd have laughed my head off. As if! But there we were, in the mid-late 90s admiring her newly pierced navel ring and avoiding the topic of why she looked so bloody thin. Funny how things change.

I didn't/don't really have any friends who take drugs heavily so when D went the way of the raver crowd we were all rather worried about her. She introduced me to a lot of very cool music during that time though - the Sneaker Pimps being but one band. After the new Millennium ticked over she left the ravers behind, moved to India for a few years, joined a peace loving, well respected human rights organisation and became hell bent on saving the world. A noble cause. She met a like-minded man on her travels, who coincidentally shared the male derivative of her name - himself also into charity work and of course, saving the world and together they rode into the sunset living a rather immaterial sort of lifestyle filled with freedom, travel and ...saving the world.

I have no idea what we were so worried about. Sounds perfect to me.

I bought Becoming X not long after hearing it at D's house and it was a constant in the CD player for a few years. Every time I hear any of the songs from it I'm reminded of D and of being young and laughing at how far away adulthood and responsibility was. As I said, funny how things change.



Low Place Like Home - Sneaker Pimps

Labels: friends, memories, musical monday, nostalgia, troubleshooting

posted by M at 11:16 pm 9 comments

Earlier this year when #1 and I heard that Crowded House were reforming for a concert tour we decided that we'd risk the dreaded 'old band getting back together and they might not be as good' syndrome that seems to be taking over the world and go see them anyway. I'm glad we did - yes it was a throwback to better times but it was also sincerely a magical night. Back in 1996 when CH had their farewell concert in Sydney, #1 and I conspired to go but since I had no car (or license for that matter) and there was no way in hell her beat up car would make it up the Hume Hwy - we had to miss out. Flying up was a no go, with both of us struggling with weekend jobs and a poor uni lifestyle. I sat on my living room couch and cried while watching it televised on the tele instead.

Years later when drummer Paul Hester tragically took his own life I had the same reaction. He was my favourite member - purely for the quirky humour he carried with him, in a public sense if not anywhere else. I remember being very young (about 9 or 10) and just adoring him. It's always the funny guys that get me where it counts. It broke my heart when he died. It still breaks my heart. I suspect that there may be a few differing opinions on this - and maybe some stories to the contrary (I don't want to know if there are) but all the good ones seem to go early.

So last week, leaving the bub behind #1 and I made our way through a perfect spring evening, no clouds hanging over the domain; yes only one season to contend with - and had a few emotional heart strings tugged by an otherwise forgotten favourite band. Who knew they could still do that? We were also serenaded by a drunk guy sitting in front of us but that's another story (I love freaks).

I think Crowded House will always hit an emotional chord with me. I remember feeling so excited by the song Sister Madly, which caused me to bounce around joyously from lounge chair pillow to pillow as a little one. I thought they were singing about me; after all I was a sister and sometimes I did step on bro's head, just like the lyrics mentioned. Not long after, I remember watching the video clip for one of their better known songs Better be Home Soon one morning on Video Hits and feeling the tears fall down my face. I still don't know why that happened but I remember it clearly, as if it was yesterday. One second I was watching the television and feeling normal and the next I was ambushed by a state of desperate sadness - the song was so true of things I didn't even know about yet - which sounds weird I know, but I understood the song on an emotional level even though I hadn't experienced that kind of longing Finn sang about yet. I remember arguing over the correct lyrics to Don't Dream it's Over on the phone with #1 (obviously this was before the internet and thus all the information we could ever want at our fingertips was in every household) and laughing like a maniac at the song Chocolate Cake - which I can't stand now but loved the ridiculousness of back then.

Nowadays it's these two songs that do not fail to give me goosebumps.

Four Seasons in One Day, for its sublime Melbourne references that you only understand if you live here and now forever Paul Hester's tribute (the Melbourne boy). For the little lump that catches in my throat every time I hear it and the gorgeous imagery in my head.


Four Seasons in One Day - Crowded House


Private Universe, which always starts with a tingle at the back of my neck, floating down my shoulders and finally settling in the pit of my stomach. This one, is really my song. I just get it.

Private Universe - Crowded House


It's funny how that works - when songs mean something to one person only and no matter how hard you try to make someone else feel the significance as deeply as you do, they can't because they simply aren't you.





(don't worry, I haven't forgotten Split Enz)

Labels: endless summer lift the curse, feelings, finding out wherever there is comfort there is pain, memories, musical monday, nostalgia

posted by M at 1:08 am 15 comments

Back in the 80s, when I was a wee child, (wearing board shorts with fluoro colours, rolled down long socks and a groovy sideways ponytail) there is one band I remember everyone in my peer group loving. A ubiquitous little band called Icehouse. In fact as I recall the Australian government threatened to take away your citizenship and ship you back to the motherland if you didn't love them.

Unfortunately the problem was that I HATED Icehouse. I loved the album Man of Colours of course but only because it had the song Electric Blue ("help me baby, tell me what can I do?") on it. Electric Blue was a big hit for us 11 year olds living in the burbs. Apart from that one hit it was a little hard for me to try to relate to the rest of the Icehouse loving freaks out there in the big wide world.

Bro was a big Icehouse fan - in fact to this day I'd say Icehouse remains one of his all time favourite bands. I remember making fun of him for it, mercilessly. I'd "neh, neh, neh - you're a dork" him. He'd insist that Iva Davies made good music and then he'd slam the door and turn "Great Southern Land" up on 11. Yeah, I was a bitch.

The thing is - and this is just between you and me. I don't hate them so much anymore. In fact, I rather like them now - not everything they've done - but enough to care. Some of it has to do with being enveloped in that golden hue of nostalgia I enjoy so much. Play any song from Man of Colours and you will surely find me grinning and staring off into space with my funny hat of memories on. It's not all nostalgia though - some of it has to do with finally recognising that some of the songs really are rather good, and that maybe Bro was right.

The truth of the matter is though - and this comes from perspective and taste - Electric Blue though co written with Oates from Hall & Oats, is a really shit song. Icehouse have far better ones elsewhere in their catalogue, some dating back to when they were known as "Flowers".

With summer around the corner the days are getting longer now, warmer, tinged in an orange glow and coupled with long sighs and sticky icy pole residue running down one's arm. Or maybe that's just me.. It's always around this time of year that I dig Icehouse out, flick my shoes off, lay down, close my eyes and enjoy feeling the sunlight dance across my face with little soft kisses (stinging by the time I get up). Apt for these next three songs. Perfect, even.



Hey Little Girl

No Promises

We Can Get Together

Labels: bro, childhood, memories, musical monday, nostalgia

posted by M at 12:58 am 16 comments

It was last night's appalling "Britpop" episode on Idol that had me on my knees reaching into the darkest corners of the second bottom shelf of my cd library and blowing dust off those old cds looking for something to listen to. In my world you can't call The Beatles Britpop and I stand by that even if Noel and Liam disagree (oi!). In my world you also can't sing anything by Amy Winehouse while looking like you just stepped out the front doors of church on Sunday. No sir. It's only about Rehab if even the gentlefolk are calling you a crack-head, honey - and they ain't, no ma'am.

So, anyway I dig out the old mid-90s feel good albums and make my way through the ones that tickle my fancy - which of course instantaneously takes me back to better times. I'm not quite sure why they are better exactly but I do know that nostalgia plays tricks on old minds - maybe that's it. I come across a couple of songs I haven't listened to in years. I feel the excitement that I felt then - about life, love, learning etc building up in my heart and pounding through my veins. Music is wonderful isn't it? It's a time machine for emotions and memories long since buried.

I'm smiling even now at the lyrics to End of a Century: the mind gets dirty as you get closer to thirty remembering myself back then, wondering whether that would ever be true of me, wondering indeed if I'd ever get there - close to thirty, in this new century - and yet here we are: 2007. It seemed much too far away to be true back then.

Indeed, funny that the young girl I once was seems too far away to be true to me now. The ribbon that binds us together is now grey and fraying dangerously along the edges. I'm desperately tying knots to keep her close but she's all but disappeared that one. She was so untouchable and so ready for life to happen. She was ...unaware, and that's good - that's a very good way to be says the present older me, who knows a little too much to be so objective about life's little surprises now. The lesson has been learned.

I'm listening to the song and remembering her blissfully dancing at the Blur concert (for it was always blissful this kind of dancing, completely self absorbed) - some time in the mid nineties - and suddenly looking upwards and laughing as a turret of water is poured into the overheated crowd - indeed over her, drenching her to the bone in a shock of cold that is quickly enveloped and turned steamy by the dancing masses. She looks over at her friends and they all laugh and clasp hands and jump into the air, shaking wet hair everywhere and screaming whilst not missing one beat.

I wish I could get her back. I miss her.

End of a Century - Blur



This MM wasn't going to be about this, but I'll just leave it there anyway.

Labels: memories, memory, music, musical monday, musings, nostalgia, wonderings

posted by M at 8:56 pm 11 comments

When I was a little girl my nonna lived with us. She had blue/green eyes and powdery white hair. My dad had green eyes too. Sometimes in the light my eyes go green as well - but only two people in my whole life have ever noticed it. They are both people who have bothered to really look. I think a lot about that, looking and really looking. Sometimes I am surprised by the things that people don't notice about eachother.

My nonna had these amazing fingers. They were long and spindly and she was able to twist and manipulate them to make amazing things. She could crochet anything. Mostly she used cotton to crochet little round doilies and long thin table runners. I used to sit by her side watching the needle stab its way in and out quickly and effortlessly while she told me stories of her homeland in hushed whispers. She could also knitt and used to make me little tops I could wear. Once I went to the yarn store and was told I could pick any ball of wool I wanted and she would make a top for me out of it for my birthday. I picked a bright pink one with threads of silver sparkle running through it. The top was sleeveless and scratchy (because of the sparkle) but I wore it anyway. After I got too big for it I unravelled the work and kept the wool. I still have it somewhere. I plaited a whole bunch of it together and used it as shoelaces for my docs once upon a time.

At night, before dinner she would go into her little room and get out the rosary and pray on her knees. I used to get on my knees too, but I didn't know the words so I'd look up at the portrait of my grandfather instead and wonder who he was. Then I'd slide over her bed and play with the items on her bedside table. Little trinkets from her past. Pieces of jewellery, a lamp with a silky hanging fringe that I'd run my fingers over, back and forth until my mind went numb and all I knew was the tickles of silken thread across my fingertips.

My favourite piece was this little china jewellery box in the shape of a piano. Since I was piano girl, I loved that thing so much. My nonna said I could have it, but after she died my older cousins came and took everything, Everything. My little jewellery box was gone and all I had left were my memories of it. I can hardly write this without getting sad about it, even now. It was highly unfair, children have no power.

One of my earliest childhood memories is going on long walks with her. Long sunny day walks through the back streets commenting on the houses and naughtily picking flowers from the front gardens. Picked flowers from front gardens and wildflowers are my favourites, imperfect but sweeter smelling. Flowers are for more than just looking - people are too. I loved coming up with a posey of my very own and holding it up to my nose cherishing the sweetness as I skipped along beside nonna.

She used to spend hours making fresh pasta and I would be there beside her helping make the shapes of the orecchiette. My fingers were slow and clumsy next to her fast and adept ones. There was always flour everywhere. She wore a flowery large apron that went right over the top of everything, like an art smock. I wore a little white lacey one that didn't cover anything but looked fun. My impracticality meant that I always ended up with flicks of flour all over me, not unlike now - except with paint.

She didn't get on well with my mother. They didn't fight, not really - but there was a mutal dislike under the top layer of niceness, simmering. I don't really know why they didn't like eachother - except that they were both strong women with strong ideas about how things should be done. I guess that's what I can say for a lot of things in my life - underneath the surface the bubbles are dancing. They both liked pottering in the garden though and that probably was the only thing they shared, apart from my dad and us. I was often torn between loyalty towards my mother and loyalty towards my nonna. Sometimes she would use my brother and I to manipulate situations to her favour. I knew what was happening and I hated that. I can't even imagine how my dad felt about it all - or whether he even noticed. As we've already established, not everyone notices everything they should...or could.

Later on in her life and when I was nearing the end of my primary school years - my nonna had a stroke. She wasn't allowed to go on her long walks very often because I was too young to look out for her properly and my parents were always too busy to take the time to take her. I remember her frustration at being so old and treated like a child. She used to walk along my Billie Jean hallway instead - working out her discontended resentfulness up the length of the hallway and back again. It was sad.

After she died I used to hear her slippers shuffling up and down the cold tile hallway for a long time. When I'd check, there was never anybody there. There were other things too, perfumed smells where there was no perfume around, sounds in empty corridors. After a month it stopped and everything went back to normal.

Labels: family, memories, nonna, nostalgia

posted by M at 8:25 am 14 comments