Monthly Archives: July 2011

Engadine



I walked along the slopey and rocky footpath past my old church last week, used to love doing this as a kid. Now I have old clark leather shoes on and I have a beard. Not a kid.

Its ok, I am alive. I was writing and then stopped and then wrote and then stopped.

I wrote this though:

Writing this while in my brother’s old bedroom in our old family home. It has rained all week, which has been great. Always loved my home growing up when it rained, as the metal roof made the rain louder and if you were cuddled up in bed it was the most comforting sound. But if it was winter, you have to lie really still and not slide your feet across to other part of the bed as it would be cold and who wants to have to go through the experience more than once of warming up the bed.

Thunder just rolled down the street and a dog barked. More rain. The splash sound as cars drive past the top of the street. And this bed gets more and more comfy.

My nephew came in before, he walks but cannot walk on a bed yet, way too unstable. You throw him up high and he giggles a lot and has learnt the word “more” much to his advantage. He is just stoked at that. I wish my plant said “more” when it needed water. Look further down the page to read about the plant, as I have placed this in as a warning.

Then I got back from Sydney and I wrote this:

My cousin told me this blog was emotional vomit. I actually had no issue with her saying this, as perceptions really do fascinate me. This really could be seen as emotional vomit. I just blurt out whatever comes into my head and it is usually emotive. Vomit also comes out unexpectedly, so in a beautiful harmony, vomit and emotion mix together, with chunks of carrot and sometimes corn.

I got home from Sydney after a fairly uneventful trip other than seeing loved ones (yep that part was eventful), and got texts from friends all saying welcome home. Welcome home. Yeah I would say it is home now, it has been 6 months today since I flew here and wheeled my suitcase next to the bluestone gutters that are so familiar in Melbourrne. And I do not regret it at all, I love it.

I bought a plant. It has green leaves that then turn into red leaves at the top of the plant. I walked into a florist when I saw it in the window, with a lovely rafia bow (Gee, I have rafia and a bow in my house. This reminds me of my mum in the 90’s making rafia hats at christian camp). I walked in and after the quick smile and chat that its cold outside, asked her what plant in here will survive in an apartment. She pointed to the red one and destiny was mine. An old man came out the front of the shop and wrapped it up in brown paper(must be his duty, maybe his only one), I do not know why but it protected Elliot from the cold. Elliot is the plant’s name, and he does not have a star sign.

I love that I do not lose my romantic bone, or romantic heart for that matter. I can keep hurting myself and yet I still have that hope. It also projects back on the love I have felt and also given and there is a memorial service to that past sometimes. Some mix tape is played and a sad song or a happy song is there, but there are so many songs yet to be written that will remind me of a future love and other songs that have been written that have simply not been discovered by me, that will be introduced by someone who will make me smile.

Have not seen Mr Fox for a while. Some say he may have been ousted as Mr Fox and is now just Fox, over in St Kilda. Sucks hey.

I have noticed that Tram Drivers, wave to each other. Just as in Sydney, Bus drives wave to each other. It makes me wonder if the entire bus company or train company of drivers know each other or do they do it as some social formality. “You drive a Tram too and are going past me, hello!!” And the wave returns to them “Gday mate”.

I saw this video and the words are haunting, he is such a great artist and it just gets topped off when Kimbra turns up in the video. She rocks.

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Coffin

Something I value about jobs is finding the really cool aspects and then sit outside of yourself and smile. Painting a base of a wall in one of the galleries for King Tut and having a 3500 year old golden coffin sitting there near me. Noone else is inside the galleries and it is late at night. My music playing from another of the rooms, educating the artifacts on music from 2011. Something about it, was just simply, simple.

I had a dinner party last night. Vegetarian style, and I so reminded myself of my mother. I do not know how that happened, but just how she loved to cook and host, I like doing the same. Though not the same kinds of food, my own twist. I like cooking but do not like those cooking shows and reality comps like Masterchef. It makes it so common and addictive and generic. Just like when you fight with window blinds and you pull the rope cord and the stupid thing does not catch or it lopsides and not straight across. And you end up communicating way too heavily with strips of metal and rope as to why it is not cooperating with your desire for less or more light.

Had my mate Dave here the past few days and he inspired me to go back to the ACMI (Some letters representing the museum of the moving image I think) and so I took another friend Bernard and his sister there. There is this pretty cool (yes Dave, pretty cool) wheel that moves around and around and then the lights start flashing and it comes to life. This is kind of stupid to explain in writing as I bet you have no idea what I am saying.. youtubing now… There, just watch.

And so, was showing them and then they walked out half way. Rude. Only to discover his sister is epileptic. Oh. So just check beforehand next time. Epileptic warnings are there for a reason.

Off to Sydney in a few days. My thoughts currently are mainly drained at trying to organise to hang with people. It is not an easy task. Funny how visits to see friends/family is not a holiday. Though hey, if my chicken Denise was still alive, I would be guaranteed to be chilled. Maybe I will find her grave. Just as much talking would go on, pre or post her death. RIP once again Denise.

I found this photo on my camera, taken the day I was about to move to Melbourne. I put it as my facebook profile. Because I was not smiling people told me it was a bad photo. Does a photo of a face have to be smiling to be a good one? I just liked the rawness, but trying not to be up myself with it. We attempt this all the time and fail yeah?

Fantastic Mr Fox

There have been some early morning starts, and on my way through the park, I see a fox. Now some of you, maybe even most of you, would think this is not odd. It is odd. CBD Parks at 6am prior to lightness usually only have possums, maybe a keen cyclist who is break the rules of no riding in the park and lots of trees and grass. Not a fox. And this fox was the kind of fox I think about when I think of the fox Roal Dahl would have based his book on. Will also point out that the average Aussie has not seen a fox in person before. I cannot speak for every Australian as I am sure the outback ones and country ones see them often, or the remains that Foxes have left behind in cliche chicken slaughters. But not I.
Walking along in the dark towards work, the fox is just standing there on the grass next to me. I feel like I am in an episode of some surreal scene from Six Feet Under and having a moment with a wild animal as we keep staring at each other. He is panting and has some fog coming out of his breath, and then he runs in circles and stops again. Like he is wanting to play. I am still partly waking up and so confused as to what I am seeing is real. There is a deserted garbage truck nearby and the fox kept running around it. I was trying to work out if the garbage man was inside and he has a pet fox. For some reason that was my best conclusion. I just kept walking.
Then the next week, same place in the park, there was the fox. I had mentioned the previous time to a few friends and they all said “are you sure it is not a possum?” I know what a bloody possum looks like. Orange, small dog size, very fast and darty, big bushy tail and white underside. He looks so happy and stoked to be alive and running around. Though this time the garbage truck was not there so either garbage man was sneaking in the bushes watching or he did not exist and this was a wild fox that just happened to setup camp in this park. Would make sense, plenty of vermin and stuff around and hey, how many brave foxes get to the CBD to live? Some do obviously. So he is actually Fantastic Mr Fox. This time I fumbled and turned my music off on my iPhone and it was still, he was panting again, run a bit, look at me, run some more. I went to take a photo, but this made him bolt off under a tree in the dark. So I kept walking. Til next time Fox.

A Brazilian guy I dated for a very short while turned up at my door the other night, very late and very drunk. He came in, I asked him what was wrong and he started getting upset and told me he loved me, over and over again. I didnt know what to say. That word is so precious to me, so did not understand why someone would say that, especially when he didnt know me for that long and has not seen me in a while either.

There was a clairvoyant at work last week. She had been hired as “entertainment” for the Night sessions of Tut. I had never done anything like that before and was slightly curious, she was doing tarrot card readings. My colleagues went to her, and then I finally did. It was a 5 minute session and didnt really get much from it but hey, it was in a cafe in a museum. So the jury is out on that one.

I have a photoshoot coming up, I will share the results once they have happened. Getting off my ass more and being constructive. Like a Construction worker at a construction site. Constructing things.

And my mint plant sucks. I tried, I tried to look after it but it died. There is this one bug that lives in it though so at least I made something a home. This home will be transported to outside in the dull garden, to make more homes. I really am a life giver.

And this song, some truth in it.