fire up

since the lecture, something that natasha cica hit on has stayed with me. she wanted a rehabilitation of civility in public life, but she also advocated something like the opposite in public and political debate. the point she was making, i think, is that the left [sorry, tt] is so concerned with "playing by the rules" and arguing their case in a fair and reasonable way [so as to be above reproach], that thay are less effective than their counterparts on the right. now i realise there is a mediacentric explanation for this also but bear with me. contrary to what this might indicate, she wasn't suggesting that we need an andrew bolt of the left [as she deplored his caricature of spite as much as anyone], but simply that when he "spoke plainly" or stridently about an issue, he wasn't christened "loony right", unlike what happens in the reverse.

she was asking the left to stop playing the roles they'd been prescribed and start telling hard truths about our society, to break down the dogmatic commitment to a certain line and tell it like it is. only in this way, she suggests, can the left inspire the community and show them the intellectual dishonesty of the cultural warriors on the right. she's a humanist. she has more faith in 'the people' than the academic left often does. she reckons people will rejoice in voices that refuse to be categorised, because their primary aim is to tell the truth. which got me thinking...



little more than ten years ago, paul keating was prime minister. apart from reminding us that in the space of ten years the political landscape can change so dramatically that we shouldn't give up hope, we can also reflect on it as a time of plain speaking. when he was pm, i was a little scared of him. it was only in subsequent years that i discovered what a visionary he'd been, how his commitment to the republic, an engagement with asia on real terms, and a genuine atonement for the crimes committed against indigenous australians, allows him to stand alongside whitlam in terms of vision and substance. and like whitlam, he told it like it was. whilst gough favoured the rapier wit of wildean proportions [which was often lost on both his victims and the public], keating was more fond of the direct approach.


his legacy is important because in so many ways he refused to be compartmentalised. whether you agreed with him or not, the facts stand: he was economically market-driven, he was socially progressive, he had equal contempt for alp factionalism and for the coalition he so openly despised, and he was never afraid. there is much else to say about him, and unionists certainly tell a different story to inner-city progressives but the good sign is that he pissed them all off - he shook up as much shit within the party as without.


so i guess the message is not to 'get angry', because from where i'm standing it appears that the left is already mad as hell - what we need is sharp shooting, plain speaking, disruption, guts, ramraiding, bombast, and my personal favourite - SHEER BLOODYMINDEDNESS.



hey. ho. let's. go.

of course...

staring at this also helps.

the myth of sisyphus

yesterday afternoon, on the corner of elizabeth and latrobe streets, i was overcome with a crushing case of anomie. i had earlier been standing in the intersection of bourke and swanston, witnessing the incredible spectacle of thousands converging from all four directions, in a show of commitment and courage. i'd woken in a warm embrace, risen early, cooked perfect scrambled eggs and rye toast. i'd caffeinated, met marching partners, made my way through the bodies with many pleases, thankyous, and other things that normally cheer me.

so what was it?

i think it was the sinking feeling you get sometimes when you realise you're trying to push the ocean back with a broom. when you question your commitments, ask why they matter, wonder why you bother, and generally have a crisis of confidence in your own effectuality.


the best answer i've ever had to this important but painful process of questioning, was this:


"consider the alternative."


imagine if you didn't try - if you never even got angry to start with. imagine if you'd taken all your incredible privilege and run with it, used that private school education as a weapon against people you could beat, earn more money than, outrun. imagine if your family had convinced you to keep voting for the liberal party, if the constant exposure to selfish right-wing ideals had done permanent [instead of temporary] damage, if you'd remained interested only in delivering yourself from boredom and sameness and carefully cultivated mediocrity. so we keep going.

the lecture last night was incredible. natasha cica is a true intellectual, asking difficult questions about our public life, with humour and rigour and charm to spare. i was more than impressed. so, today feels a little less jangly, a little less raw. but on the whole, i resolve to ride this wave down and back up again. it's the only way.

*groan*

weary with the world today. rally was strangely nonplussing. head feels too full of bad sad [mad?] thoughts to make any sense. body is asking forcefully not to be punished with evil beverages. even dumplings couldn't lift my spirits. and tonight is the launch, which will require vim and vigour. what to do?

left, left, left, right, left

i'll be rallying in the city tomorrow if anyone needs a marching partner. it's a national day of action, so you'll have the pleasure of knowing that the 7 people who march in toowoomba [shout-out to hughie] will be looking to melbourne for evidence of solidarity. attendance at the last protest against the i.r. regressions was estimated at around 180 000 people, so hopefully "the masses" are still mightily pissed off. if you want to meet up, send me an email and we can organise a rendezvous. me and mine is marching from trades hall at 9am, under the eureka flag [aaawww]. i'll check in late tonight to see if there are any bites.

in a related bit of shameless self-promotion, the magazine i work for is being launched tomorrow eve at trades hall. the details are here, so if you like hanging out with pinkos and commies, and you don't mind a bit of recalcitrant leftism, come on down.*




*also, if you just want to come and hang out at the awesome paddy's bar, i would like that very much. let's drink beer and save the world.

left, left, left, right, left

i'll be rallying in the city tomorrow if anyone needs a marching partner. it's a national day of action, so you'll have the pleasure of knowing that the 7 people who march in toowoomba [shout-out to hughie] will be looking to melbourne for evidence of solidarity. attendance at the last protest against the i.r. regressions was estimated at around 180 000 people, so hopefully "the masses" are still mightily pissed off. if you want to meet up, send me an email and we can organise a rendezvous. me and mine is marching from trades hall at 9, under the eureka flag [aaawww]. i'll check in late tonight for any bites.

in a related bit of shameless self-promotion, the magazine i work for is being launched tomorrow eve at trades hall. the details are here, so if you like hanging out with pinkos and commies, and you don't mind a bit of relcalcitrant leftism, come on down.*



*also, if you just want to come and hang out at the awesome paddy's bar, i would like that very much. let's drink beer and save the world.

3058

house-sitting in coburg this weekend, for dear friends who have nipped off to sydney for a mini-break. the apartment is huge, light-filled, and equipped with a snazzy coffee machine, so i'm reluctant to leave just yet. though i imagine when they get home tonight they might ask me to go.

what to say about another brilliant weekend? friday night dinner at ti amo and book-shopping at readings [complete with poetry recitals]. watched 'we could be heroes' on dvd and fell asleep giggling. saturday morning breakfast in coburg with piccadilly pigeons and jazz trios and the small paper over cafe au lait. my thoroughly charming breakfast companion read the bolt column [out of the same perverse fascination i am trying to overcome] and on conclusion had but a single thing to report - an error of expression. i think he may be perfect. from heaven to horror show - coburg to the crown casino - saw 'poseidon', which was appropriately inane [read: hilarious]. coffee in flinder's lane had its own trials but was very satisfying nonetheless, followed by my favourite tram ride home ever. on saturday night, i introduced a novice to thaila thai [brunswick east's finest] which we paired with a bottle of veuve clicquot. there was singing. there was dancing. there were comedy routines. then there was hoegaarden.


on sunday, the lady and i rocked out at the community cup. highlights included:

• streakers
• the meanies [the years have not wearied them]
• shamelessly ogling clare moore's ethereal beauty in the line for drinks
• renee geyer giving the jazz treatment to waltzing matilda
• the most adorable runner ever to grace a football pitch [ms fits in a fitzroy jumper, hotpants, knee-high boots, pigtails and an enormous red beanie]
• richard watts running on in the second quarter*
• a cherubic child wearing a blues jumper giving me the evil eye for wearing a pies scarf

the worst part of the day involved the lady dodging to swerve a football and pouring an entire drink all over me. but even this was funny [after some yelling] and in fairness, the ball was approaching her head.




tried to do some work last night. whatever. went to bed at half past nine. a fitting end to another few days that were as inspired as they were inspiring.







*richard, when you ran in front of us, i yelled out "carn' wattsy!", which prompted the cheekiest smile from you that sent the crowd into a bit of a tizz. you were glorious.

sunday too far away

who's coming to the community cup this sunday? i missed out last year, which is why this weekend i resolve to up the ante and engage in even more revolting, boorish, beer-soaked behaviour than previously. i defy anyone to come and not feel compelled to scream/yell/swear, swill beer and generally abandon all pretence of decorum. last time i went, this was the pre-match entertainment...



and these were the umpires...




the half-time show included this delectable specimen...




and this was how they collected the donations...





it's an amazing day, with all money raised going to the sacred heart mission in st kilda [who do bloody good work]. so come and see the espy rockdogs take on the rrr/pbs megahertz at the junction oval in st kilda this sunday. gold coin donation on entry, gates open 11am, bounce at 2.30 [we'll be getting there around midday, so if you want to meet up, give me a yell]. special guests this year include dave graney & clare moore, matt walker & ashley davies, paul kelly & renee geyer, the meanies, and MAN'S RUIN BURLESQUE [yowzer].

get thee to the game...

"it's a sad incident but let's not overreact."

i've always wondered what family arguments are like in the howard household.

"excuse me, dear, you just stepped on my toe and it hurt."

"well, i express deep and sincere regret that your toe was underneath my foot, but i think it's too early to start flinging apologies around for the sake of it. did you consider that your toe may be culturally incompatible? is that a tiny hijab your toe is wearing? maybe if your toe had been playing by the rules, i wouldn't have had to come down on it so hard. are we sure that your toe is in the country legally? does your toe expect a formal apology just because every tiny bone within is broken due to my rank incompetence and heartlessness?"

and now, to add to the growing list* of people howard cannot say sorry to/for, an australian soldier has gone and shot the bodyguard of the iraqi trade minister. but DON'T PANIC, OUR TRADE RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT BE AFFECTED. howard has already 'expressed sorrow over the man's death but said it was still too early to apportion blame, and too early to bow to demands for an official apology'. phew. for a minute there, i thought he might apologise unreservedly for a monumental fuckup that cost someone their life. thankfully he didn't, as that could have jeopardised our ability to trade effectively with the new, free, iraq.





*early draft of this list includes: cornelia rau, vivian alvarez solon, david hicks, mamdouh habib, jack thomas, peter qasim, the stolen generation, the indigenous population, t.j. hickey and his family, victims and survivors of siev x, the people who didn't throw their children overboard, the rescuees of the tampa, arne rinnan, helen clark, the population of nauru, the people of east timor, i'm sure i'm forgetting something...

losin' it

notes written on 8 green index cards at 10.27am tuesday 13 june 2006:



what i would post on my blog if it weren't part of the public sphere...

lost weekend?

set on fire a little these past few days - in the sense of much sleep, much chatter, much stimulation [of the chemical, intellectual and sexual kind]. it may appear to the observer as the prototypical "lost weekend". but...

things that were found [or found out];

• the energy crisis > NOT FAKE, compelling evidence tendered that no conspiracy exists, and...
• sex is almost certainly the best thing you can do with any spare time you might have.
• the union movement needs to ho itself up a bit to boost membership, as the appeal of brawny man-love seems to be less effective than heaving bosoms and enthusiastic attempts at oral sex.*
• buffy really is as good as i thought.
• sunlight streaming into the room after you wake up is actually quite welcome if you're in a good frame of mind ie. being held tightly and amused and fondled.
• don't smoke tommy's joints after drinking seriously good wine.
• don't [either] be afraid to say exactly what you think - especially if you're sort of terrified of not impressing someone.
• australian democracy [in its current guise] is problematic enough to compel an inquiring thinker to improve upon it, despite [or because of?] the fact that said thinker has no ideological/partisan/party-political agenda for doing so. this is a much needed wake-up call, reminding me that to be immersed in my own agenda is to be as ineffectual [tedious] and intellectually dishonest as i declare my 'opponents' to be. good lesson.
• finally, a tattoo bearing a symbol of 'agape' may need to be considered in the future.**

so - thank you. i feel reminded of the general-purpose, all-weather, humanistic love that animates us to think beyond or outside ourselves. i thought outside of myself this weekend, and remembered why it must always be my goal.



*this is a mental note, not a mental memo - so it probably won't be acted on...though the roadshow could be a thing of the future...
**at this point, that's a mental note that will possibly mature into a memo. nothing is certain.



so...i decided to post it after all.

for my betty blue baby

blue sky
when you gonna learn to rain?
and let yourself go blue for once
and let go of that weight you been carryin'
in this house
no-one goes to sleep for days
it's like we're workin' on a mountainside
tryin' not to slide
into the ocean

i can take care of you
but only if you want
i'm strong enough to carry you
across the icy lake
across the icy lake
but i can't fight your blues
cos i know i'll lose what's left of my mind
and i can't win
but for you i will try
my baby blue

my mountain is hidden in a pile of trees
and she's the one i'll have to climb
if i ever want to see
blue sky
when you gonna learn to rain?
and let yourself go blue for once
and let go of that pain

i can take care of you
the way you'd like to feel
underneath the river bed
across the icy lake
across the icy lake
but i can't fight your blues
cos i know i'll lose what's left of my mind
i can't win
but for you i will try
for you
for you
my baby blue





i know you'll come alive soon.

tag team

tammiodo has tagged me - she assures me it's just like catch 'n' kiss, only without the kissing. but if she comes to trivia next week we can rectify that. here goes...

four jobs i have had in my life:

a] barbitch at the paddo tavern [brisbane's premier saloon bar, replete with cowboy hats for all staff and saddles for seats]
b] governess, teaching children school of the air on a cattle station in the gulf of carpentaria
c] secretary for wild game resources in charleville [the company that buys dead kangaroos, wild pigs and feral goats to sell as gourmet food overseas and pet food here]
d] trivia host at the irish club hotel in toowoomba [easily the best job i've had]


four movies i could watch over and over [complete with choice lines]:

a] rushmore "these are o.r. scrubs." oh, are they?"
b] scarface " sayello to ma lil fweh!"
c] cabaret "does it really matter so long as you're having fun?"
d] the rocky horror picture show "i didn't make him for you!"


four places i have lived:

a] royal malaysian air force base, butterworth [penang, malaysia]
b] hong lok yuen estate, tai po [new territories, hong kong]
c] blenheim, new zealand
d] brunswick, love of my life for reasons like this and this and this


four television shows i love to watch:

a] arrested development
b] buffy
c] the bill
d] deadwood


four places i have holidayed:

a] anaheim, orange county, usa [yes, you know what's there, and it ain't marissa cooper]
b] mt isa, middle of fucking nowhere, north western queensland
c] hepburn springs, outdoor victoria
d] carlton north, round the corner


four sites i visit daily:

a] the lament of bonnie conquest
b] reasons you will hate me
c] fully functional android
d] overland


four of my favourite things to eat:

a] anything japanese
b] almond fingers
c] eggs benedict with smoked salmon and rocket
d] a huge bloody steak with dijon mustard


four places i would rather be right now:

a] tucked up in the salon with a strapping young man [those eyes]
b] drinking margaritas on a beach in queensland [say what you will but they give good beach]
c] in a karaoke bar on the ginza ['right here waiting' by richard marx would obviously be my first selection]
d] getting singing lessons from martha wainwright [or "singing lessons" from ryan adams]


four people i shall "tag" with this decidedly silly [though no less enjoyable] task:

a] bonnie, whom i adore for her wit and charm and precociousness, as well as that infernal, impulsive courage [that is behind her departure to korea in a matter of hours...58]
b] dave mack, whom i find to be a most pleasant addition to my corner of the blogosphere [especially when he's warning of the inherent danger of the meatball]
c] the mink, an accidental discovery who fit office space, michael bolton and a flattering remark into one short comment, thus endearing himself and INTRIGUING ME NO END
d] ruby, who managed to be rakishly charming whilst reminding me that we lost trivia and HE WON - skills to pay the bills.


and that does it, over to you companeros...

something to celebrate in public life #2

before i forget - howard is having a tough time.

and, i realise that the war was lost [on account of rampant homophobia] but how's this for something to celebrate in the final battle?



"ACT Liberal senator Gary Humphries crossed the floor to vote with the opposition and minor parties against his own colleagues.

That made him the first Liberal senator to vote against the government in its 10 years in office."



first time in ten years? i'd like to think of this as howard's harbinger of doom.

let's stick together...

...let's see it through. that was the ALP slogan for the '87 election and i'd like to reappropriate it now by being a predictable bore. yes, i'm contributing to the "your rights at work" campaign, by raising awareness about their new ad [and chucking them a few bucks]. the unions, decimated as they are, are working their arses off to inform australians of the real impact of these changes [where the two main parties, the media and private enterprise are not - p.s. all those groups are baaaad. except the ones i like, e.g. media watch and anton enus rhymes with penis]. you can see the tv spot here, so unless you're a heartless fuck who would like to see ordinary workers stripped of their hard-won rights, you should clickety-click and see if it moves you to help.*

i do try and keep completely partisan political ranting to a minimum but sometimes you just gotta.







*if you are a heartless fuck, try clicking on the link anyway, as it might be good for you.

to be young is to be sad is to be high

i would like to officially add diana to the ever-expanding posse of fierce, formidable, fuck-off women that make my world go round. she's [kinda] in the wars and we remarked on how many strong, in-control women we've seen reduced to snivelling heaps by [comparatively] less competent [read: socially retarded] men. this was followed by a vivisection of what exactly is wrong with our society [not entirely unconnected], and a hearty endorsement of bruce springsteen [totally connected - bruce would so not be socially retarded, otherwise how could he have gotten mary pregnant at nineteen and raced cars down thunder road?]. diana also passed the ryan adams litmus test with flying colours [the perfect answer: yes, he's a dick but he's ace] so i came home and put on a bit of the old "gold" album to sing along to while i'm marking papers.

what happened next? i hear you ask. why are you still awake and blogging instead of sleeping or marking said papers? i was taking a leetle break [stalking over at jessculture] when i realised that jess could be heard, at that second, on my radio. i'd rather jack had amused me before, so i tuned in. lucky for me. bad luck for anyone expecting their paper back this week.

highlights included an adorable live performance from the blow waves, jess and clem singing [yelling?] michael bolton's "how can we be lovers if we can't be friends?", a cappella, IN DAMN NEAR PERFECT TUNE, and finally, a top ten sad songs to cry along to, entitled "fuck up, sooks". as if this weren't distracting enough, the number one was mister david ryan adams himself - "call me on your way back home", possibly the most back-wracking, howl-making, soul-destroying song ever.




this prompted me to haul out my entire back catalogue of ryan adams and play them end to end.



granted, this may not be the best way to get work done. but it gives me that tingly feeling you get when you realise that you're doing one of those things you weren't allowed to do when you were little. you remember the exchanges like this, no?


random authority figure: "mskp, you can't stay up all night listening to some sexy alt-country balladeer-cum-rockstar! it's not responsible and i say you can't!"

mskp [inside her brain]: "grrr. when i grow up, that's ALL i'm gonna do. cos you say i can't but one day you won't be the boss of me."



if anyone needs me, i'll be working out my issues with authority...*







*no, i won't because AUTHORITY TELLS ME TO.

yes, i do think i'm a clever cunt

we came second! each tuesday night at the east brunswick club, you can participate in a little trivia competition that jess likes to call "so you think you're a clever cunt?". she will be your spiritual leader on this journey through the murky depths of popular culture [didn't know that jordan had two babies? bonnie knew both their names]. for your titillation, jess is very amenable to grabbing her [quite impressive] breasts, if you ask nicely.* i didn't get to touch them but i did give her a bit of a pash when we left to say thanks. there's always next week *crosses fingers*. this now means that every member of the brunswick massive has the hots for jess. though i think we all have a bit of the hots for each other as well. i've always had them for bonnie, and after seeing charlie in a harness, and witnessing toby apply raw mathematics to the task of grabbing tits and arse, it's hard to think straight *crosses legs*. it's a pleasuredome, people, get yourselves down next week!

tonight, i sup with the gorgeous diana. i've never had dinner at the green before [as the beautiful back rooms and beer garden feel like drinking, not eating, places to me] but i feel sure it will be good. i plan to find out exactly what her work entails tonight - nearly six months since we met at panic and we've never gotten around to the "so, what do you do with your life?" questions. i like that about diana. we just meet, and chat, and laugh, and i do alot of beaming after i've seen her.

but until then, today is all about the marking. of essays. many many essays. i wish it was still the weekend.




*she will also lipsynch to meatloaf with you, thus endearing herself to you FOREVER.

hello world

you're a really nice world and everything [well, you're okay] but i really enjoyed leaving you for a few days. you're a bit testy sometimes, but granted, i can't always be relied on as a bastion of goodwill towards you either. though you do look a little better after some time apart. i didn't waste my time away - i learnt alot of new things and smiled alot. thanks for having me back. let's never fight again.

i'm fucking having...brain hemorrhage

in past years, i have dipped my toe in the foetid pool that is big brother. during the first season i was a late convert, but by the time it was down to sara-marie, ben and blair, i was damn near rearranging social engagements and shifts at work to see who would win. my interest steadily waned over the ensuing seasons. maybe the novelty wore off. maybe i got busier and prioritised other tv over bb. MAYBE THE CONTESTANTS BECAME MORE AND MORE TEDIOUS AND GRETEL JOINED HOWARD ON MY LIST OF PEOPLE I WOULD LIKE TO SEE HARM COME TO. whatever the reason, i was cured of any love for big brother.

until now.

the first clue that i was missing something amazing came when ms fits posted youtube links to big brother uk. i must admit, it was easy not to click on those links. i believed my tolerance levels for big brother anywhere would be low, given that i had this year been incapable of watching more than a few minutes of the australian version. so i followed the comments and was amused to see the reactions people were having. but this week i met jess. when jess started her incredibly evocative [and i would later find, accurate] impersonation of nikki from bbuk, i knew that there was no turning back. i would return to youtube.

i had forgotten that when things go from good to bad, they can actually come out the other side of badness and become good again. nikki is representative of this phenomenon. she is completely vile, vacuous and as thick as two planks - but she is UTTERLY COMPELLING. the lack of nikkis is the reason why our big brother is so lame.

so here y'are. change your life. witness the horror show that is nikki's nomination:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uArpHI69yV4

and join the dark side...






or please yourself. that's it. end of.

who is it?

i love this picture because it's really hard to tell who it is. any guesses? i'll give you a clue - he's from brisbane...

somatopsychic...

...is different to psychosomatic, and is actually a word. when the lady used this word earlier in the week, i internally scoffed, assumed a superior tone of voice and said "do you mean psychosomatic?". no, she didn't. she meant somatopsychic and i was wrong. WRONG, I TELL YOU. but so happy to have discovered a new word.

psychosomatic: your brain can have an affect on your body's wellbeing through the goodness or badness of its thoughts.*
somatopsychic: your body's level of wellbeing can have an effect on your brain's ability to think good and bad thoughts.**

there you have it - not just a cracking new word but something to think about next time you're drinking vb stubbies at cafe romantica at 2 in the morning on a wednesday*** - YOUR DAMAGED BODY CAN MAKE YOUR BRAIN SAD.







*this is a very lame and untechnical way of explaining a medical term but it's the way i understood it.
**this is possibly even more retarded sounding but hopefully has explanatory power.
***whilst running into students eating pizza and yelling "hey, you're our tutor, we love you man" in a very unconvincing and drunken manner. it's still less mortifying than running into students at pony, but not by much.

sharing the love

just before midnight on friday, i received this text message from an unknown number:

Karen, HAPPY BDAY! Just realised n I am in Japan, so bit difficult for comms. Home Sundy n will ring. Love Dad :-)

this recalls the last time my father remembered my birthday [on the actual day], which was just shy of twenty years ago. it was when we were living in the same house, before i went to boarding school, which meant that it was rather more difficult to forget. i am stunned, flabbergasted, and more than a little moved. what is going on? is he becoming a soft touch in his old age? has he been partaking of illegal substances on the ginza? who taught him how to send a text message? with a smiley face? i am quite suspicious that he has adopted the time-honoured tradition of airline pilots taking up with cabin attendants in foreign ports. this would, of course, serve my step-mother right for being an incorrigible cow [and this comment makes plain both my contempt for my father's choice of wives, and my disrespect for the institution of marriage]. though i doubt this is the case. he's very square, and i'm convinced that if he could have his dearest wish granted, it would involve moving to his farm and being left alone. but there you have it - strange things are afoot at the circle k.

i must also send big love to my most dedicated and thoughtful friend - the wonderful jord. slaving away in london, looking after miniature people for little recognition, and trying no less than three times to speak to me this weekend [not to mention making sure her mum called me as well]. you sweet thing - you mean the world to me - i miss you every day.

and welcome home BONNIE! unlike the ALP, you've made it through the wilderness - literal and figurative. so happy to have you back, and can't wait to see you tomorrow, dear.

it's not too often i feel this way, so i'll record it for posterity - LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE.

so far so sweet

today has been lovely. i woke up very late, lazed around in bed with frank, started reading oryx and crake, and drank some very fine coffee. i had an adorable message on the answering machine from my loved one in london [loud singing of happy birthday] at 6am, our time. the dame makes it her mission every year to be the first to say so, and she is rarely out-manouevred. since leaving my bed, i have eaten pizza and watched arrested development - so yeah, pretty good day so far. i'm missing bonnie like mad - just wish i could her hear voice - but on the upside, my dad called me a couple of days ago. yes, that's correct, my father called me on the 31st of may to wish me happy birthday. i never mention to him what day it's actually on, and he usually calls around the fifth, so it was a nice change. i am an only child with one parent. my dad is a very organised man - raaf for 2o years, and he's smart too. he flips the flickety switches in the cockpit to make the plane go weeeee. but he can't remember my birthday. he fills my heart though, and makes me laugh. for instance, here is a snippet from our conversation this week:



allan: so how big is your mailbox?

me: um, i don't know. normal size? why?

allan: well, i have a birthday present for you and i need to know if i should mail it or send it by courier.

me: oh, okay. well, if it's much bigger than an a4 envelope you might have to register it.

allan: it's an alpaca doona.*




i'm not sure what kind of mailbox he was anticipating. perhaps he thought i had a small bungalow in my front yard, for the express purpose of receiving large items in the mail? maybe he was drunk. although, he was at the airport about to fly a 767 to korea, so i hope not. so, thanks dad, you're becoming more thoughtful, and more intruiging, every year. i only hope i take after you.

well, it's now after five, which means i can declare cocktail hour officially open. i'll see some of you later tonight, at hell's kitchen around 8. i can hardly wait...










*actually, this present is cool and lame at the same time. lame because my dad breeds alpacas, but cool because he saw on the news that we've had an unseasonably chilly autumn, and thought i might be cold. that is as close to sentimental as my dad gets. seriously, for my 28th birthday i got a scanner pen and a usb drive. for my 27th i got tyres.