Killing Time 'Til The Next Day

Pretty good name for a song innit?

Feeling Terrible

"I didn't want to distract myself. I knew I had to sit and just feel terrible and just feel terrible and just feel terrible. And I knew I had to do that. And I think it's been valuable to just sit and feel terrible."

Merridy O'Donnell tells Four Corners what she did to deal with her 17 year old son, Campbell's suicide.

The Funniest Girl I Know

She's funnier than any bunch of mates I've been to the footy with.
All of them put together.
Go Pies.

Grey

Americans spell grey with an A to make it look less so.

Sometimes I Stare In Space

Heatwave was written by Motown's superhit songwriting team of Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier and Edward Holland Jr. It was originally recorded by The Supremes but was a huge hit for Martha & The Vandellas. I much prefer The Supremes' version.

No matter how many times I listen to it, this song stirs me incredibly, especially the, "Sometimes I stare in space, tears all over my face," bit.

Yes, this song is perfect. Almost better than The Beach Boys' God Only Knows.

Heatwave

Whenever I’m with him
Something inside
starts to burnin’
And I’m filled with desire
Could it be a devil in me
Or is this the way love’s supposed to be?

It’s like a heat wave
Burnin’ in my heart
I can’t keep from cryin’
It’s tearin’ me apart

Whenever he calls my name
Soft, low, sweet and plain
I feel, right there I feel that burnin’ flame
Has high blood pressure got a hold on me
Or is this the way love’s supposed to be?

It’s like a heat wave
Burnin’ in my heart
I can’t keep from cryin’
It’s tearin’ me apart

Sometimes I stare in space
Tears all over my face
I can’t explain it
Don’t understand it
I ain’t never felt like this before
Now this funny feelin’ has me amazed
I don’t know what to do
My head’s in a haze

It’s like a heat wave
I feel it Burnin’,
right here in my heart
It’s like a heat wave

Cold Enough For Ya?

"But most of what Iceland’s got is bundles of weather. This isn’t anything as benignly balmy as a climate: this is weather that is like living with a giant psychopathic bouncer, weather of heroic, mythic proportions. The air around you is a sensate physical presence on a mission. For nine months of the year, outside the clattering windows stalks a man-killer that wants your guts for Popsicles. Welcome to Iceland, twinned with Valhalla."

From Dripping Yarns by AA Gill.

Stuck In The End Of You

It's a little ditty I recorded a couple of months ago. The lead acoustic guitar break, vocal performance and bedroom studio recording are all astounding.

Listen to it here.

Hot Enough For Ya?

"Turkey buzzards drifted in a milky sky. The metallic din of crickets made the heat seem worse. Banana leaves hung in limp ribbons. There was no wind."

Bruce Chatwin from his novella, The Viceroy of Ouidah.

Dilemmas

Dilemmas are insects.
I'd spray them but
I kinda like the buzz.

The 2006 Biennial Bugger All Going On Here This Week Festival of Melbourne

Mission Statement
To provide bugger all infrastructure, amenities of social and educational relevance to clients from Melbourne's inner and outer communities.

Curated by Paul Grabowsky, Rachel Griffiths and Franco Cozzo, it's a celebration of our city with DJ's, street theatre, buskers™, coffee, street art, cold architecture, underrepresented world music, dagwood dogs, fully ticketed football, dirty needles, P Plates, star fruit, fresh bread, slow caravans, knackwurst, high fringed dark haired ACMI goers, toenails, bullets, nice shoes, local bands, public toilets, sandblasted graffiti, beggars who need a couple of bucks to see their niece in Frankston, remote controls, Phil Cleary, security staff, baklava, camera crews, brochures, IKEA, outreach, digital cameras, scarves of all types, cookbooks, sub woofers in the boots of Toyotas, heroin, sachel bags, health workers, stencil art, strong coffee, ragged tiles, ragu, pools hanging over back lanes, yesterday's washing, SMS massaging, landslides, bicycles, gargoyles, The Johns (Thwaites and So), Port Melbourne supporters, the BLF, jus, spanakopita, feral cats, poker machines, torn gig posters and so many more events which will make this festival the biggest and best in the earth's history.

Memoirs Of An Admin Guru

Somewhere there's a place for us. Somewhere there's a place for us.
She wanted so much to get that job in the office. ADMINISTRATIVE GURU read the advertisement. The perfect job.

I wish to apply for the administrative guru position as advertised in The Age on Saturday June 12.
It was no longer enough to be merely an administrative wiz or an administrative expert. She had to upsize her talents. The young lady had to become the ADMINISTRATIVE GURU!
It was going to be tough to work up to the prerequisite 80 words a minute. She would practice at night. Every night by typing along with her favorite records.

Charlie I'm pregnant. Living on Ninth Street. Above a dirty bookstore.
The first record she took dictation from was Blue Valentine by Tom Waits, the record which reminded her of Christmas, and the scraggly boy she met on her 17th birthday.
She breezed through the first two songs but Christmas Card From Hooker in Minneapolis smacked her chair squared, arse. No problem with the speed but she couldn't spell Minneapolis.. This caused her to stumble and miss the first couple of lines. Charlie I'm pregnant was easy, she knew that that well but from then on it would be difficult.
She would never be a administrative guru.
No.
The highly organized applicant began to listen to the words.

Charlie I'm broke.
This song is a real story. I can't remember this one. Sidetracked, these thoughts are certainly not work related. Stick with the process girl. This is the mistake of the expert or even the wiz but the Administrative Guru would never fall for an easy ploy like a soppy ballad with a punchline.
The wizard was becoming the guru.

$29 (and an alligator purse) was easy. She could decipher Waits' grumblings because she was a true professional. She was a new member of Tom's band.
And ladies and gentlemen, on the keys.... The guru!
Play it again Guru! Yeah, how 'bout that band!

Wooshin' down with snooze powder, waiting for a ditch.
Hard lyrics to take down but it's The Guru we're talkin' about. She's amazing. Hire her. She can do no wrong!
Then came the saddest song in the world, Kentucky Avenue.

Eddie Grace's buick with four bullets in the sky….
Oh no.

Canadian Italian George, The Local Tells Me She's Never Seen His Eyes

See that chick over there? She's one of the hottest chicks in Port Melbourne, the bitch.

I was talking to another chick who I had already been with, you know I was finished with her, and that bitch over there with the dog comes right up to me and kisses me on the cheek. Next time I see her I'm here with my Dad, fishing and she pretends not to know me.

I know her yeah, I know her. I remember all of them by their dogs. I know their dogs better than they do.

Now the dirty bitch is walking over there with a guy. Should I go over to her? Maybe she won't recognise me because I don't have my sunglasses on.

She's never seen my eyes.

Yeah, I'm going over there. The schmuck she's with won't have a clue what's going on. I'll come back and tell you what happens. I'll wave if there's a chance of getting her number. Dirty bitch, I bet she wants it.

Without Doubt

Without doubt,
A headache won't
Celebrate its leaving.
Neither does a heartache
Celebrate the evening.

Another Quote By Charles Mingus

"I am Charles Mingus. half black man, yellow man - half yellow- not even yellow, nor white enough to pass for nothing but black and not too light enough to be called white. I claim that I am a Negro. I am Charles Mingus- to me I am nothing. I am Charles Mingus, a famed jazz musician but not famed enough to make a living in society, that is in America, my home. I cannot even support my family, honestly that is from the fame that I gain to the right of being a Negro musician.

I am a human being born in Indian territory conquered by white skins or invisible skins, transparent skins, people who killed and robbed to inherit the earth for themselves and their children.

Charles Mingus is a musician, a mongrel musician, who plays beautiful, who plays ugly, who plays lovely, who plays masculine, who plays feminine, who plays music, who plays all sounds, loud, soft, unheard sounds, sounds, sounds, sounds."

Again from his autobiography, Beneath The Underdog.

A Quote By Charles Mingus

"I never realised there were so many places to go and yet so few places to stop and relax."

Charles Mingus from his 1971 autobiography, Beneath The Underdog.

Between

Shut blue eyes,
The noise between,
Peace and silence.

That Perfume

I know it.
I know that perfume.
I think you get it at The Body Shop.
Sometimes it walks by me,
On a city street.

It reminds me of loud fucking,

With windows open to the moonlight.

In Space No One Can Hear You Cry

The birds sang because they were leaving in the morning.
The lights went orange before they died.
And the wind blew into the stars.

And the wind blew into the stars.

Love And Sedition, Aussie American Style

Please God, let me hate.
Let me hate and plot in good faith.
Let me plan vengeance and fire,
For I promise to target only those on the fringes,
We know you only help those who pray,
And for that I thank you.

I Guess I'm Using The Wrong Bait

And she said
don't you worry
there's plenty more fish in the sea.

And I fish
and I fish
and I never catch nothing.

And I said
but I do worry
you were my only porpoise.

And I fish
and I fish
and I never catch nothing.

Check the bait.
Not even a nibble.

And I fish
and I fish
and I never catch nothing.

My Gambling Problem

Lucky I don't gamble
Because
I'm the most unlucky

Man alive.

You Know Where You Pick Up A Barracouta?

Grimy, tanned and wearing a FUBU wind jacket. Very low St Kilda.

"I'm 44 and haven't worked for over three years. I used to work at Fawkner Cemetery. I was a landscape gardener."

"Yeah, I dug graves. What do YOU reckon?"

He didn't look 44.

"I got a redundancy. You know what a redundancy is? Now I go fishing. What else is there to do?"

The two fish in his bucket were drastically undersized. He said he was going to eat one and the other, he would give to his mother.

"I've got no friends."

I thought he was talking about bait and he wanted bread. "You've got no bread? I've got some. Want some pipis?"

"I've got no friends."

Instead he was setting the bait. "But you have family," I said. "What about your sister, your mother?"

"My sister? She's gone years ago. And you know what my mother says? What she said to me this morning? Why don't you go fishing? And where do you pick up a barracouta?"

Back to fishing talk. I've heard him give the tip already five times. His look was stern as if I'm the bad son."No, where do you pick them up?"

"The GILLS..... The GILLS. You pick up barracoutas by the GILLS. Anywhere else is too dangerous."

A Poem By Spike Milligan

Welcome Home
by Spike Milligan

Unaware of my crime
they stood me in the dock.

I was sentenced to life....
without her.

Strange trial.
No Judge.
No Jury.

I wonder who my visitors will be.


From Spike's 1979 collection, Open Heart University.

A Prayer For Parties

I'm so tired. I had a big night at Tommy from Leigh's band's party on Wednesday night. There was this guy there who kept following me around all night.

He wouldn't stop touching me. My shoulders. My hips. His fucking slimy paws all over me.

I really wish I didn't wear that skirt.

He wouldn't take a hint and I got really sick of it so I told him - if you don't get out of my space I'm going to fucking glass you.

I mean there's rules to flirting and I wasn't having a bar of him. I might have laughed at one of his jokes earlier in the night but that doesn't mean I want to fuck him.

I hate guys like that.

I was only at the party because Leigh's drummer was going to be there.

And he didn't even show up.

He told Tommy he would.

I hate guys like that.

Vitamin D On My Arms

The sunny day’s laugh grates like showbiz conversation.