Pass The Draino, I'm Blocked

I have had a hard time writing lately. I've had a shitty past two months so I haven't wanted to write. Well, I did do one post but one of my My Space friends checked it out and said it read like a suicide note and became worried. I was actually embarrassed about that one so I deleted it. I was having an exceptionally bad evening. The thing that annoys me is that I'll be on the tram or walking through the city and I'll think of amazing things I want to write about. I then get home and nothing comes once my fingers are paused over the keyboard. It saddens me that inspiration has been low. Someone recently said to just write from my heart but lately as I explained in the first paragraph, I just didn't want to fill blogs with dark, depressing passages. I think I will start writing about alternative comedians and jazz musicians as that's what I've been filling my life with lately. I've just completed a book on the trials of Lenny Bruce which was brilliant. I'm in awe of people who tell the truth with conviction and refuse to be silenced. I'm in awe of the genius of Bessie Smith,Louis Armstrong,John Coltrane,Duke Ellington,Miles Davis,Theonious Monk,Charlie Parker,Sonny Rollins,Ella Fitzgerald,Biilie Holiday, and Dizzy Gillespie. I'm listening to Miles at the moment. His music,to quote Wynton Marsallis- is "like the best encounters-soft but intense". My housemate is away for the week. I'm having a perfect moment being alone,listening to jazz and to the rain fall. Now all I need is a soft and intense encounter.

Rant

It's 3.30 am and I'm wide awake. Probably due to the fact that I've been sleeping through the day because of this goddamn cold I've got. I had a weird discussion with my housemate earlier. She was up in arms about the story in the news today regarding children (AS YOUNG AS SEVEN!) pole dancing. I was bemused by this because I felt it was a bit rich and ironical coming from someone who sells dildo's for a living. My retort was that I didn't give a fuck if kids want to swing on a pole-we did it as kids on the monkey bars and frankly it's not that different. Whilst the monks and other citizens of Burma are being executed for fighting for democracy, while we are being fucked over by our government, who gives a fat frogs clacker if kids want to swing on a pole. People need to shut up and think better. I guess they'd rather stuff McDonald's down their kids' gullets while they sit on their globulous arses getting juvenile diabetes. At least they won't be involved in that scandulous activity. My advice to these ignoramous Anna Coren arse sniffing losers- fuck off and die. I've run out of aloe vera tissues and the regular ones feel like sand paper so if I sound a tad cranky- that is why. Maybe I shouldn't have watched Pulp Fiction either. I feel like popping a cap in someone's arse...

This Blog Has No Title

It happened last Thursday. I turned 44. What the hell happened to me?? I celebrated another year by having 2 days off, lunch with the family, dinner with Emma & David and a vocal workout with Suzie, my singing teacher. I actually managed a little disco nap in between. On Friday I rose early to go and see Anna, my osteopath so she could crack and stretch me back to shape. I came back, has a spot of lunch and stretched out on the couch to watch 'Walk The Line' for the umpteenth time. The story of Johnny Cash and June Carter fills me with emotion. Johnny Cash's music is fabulous. People go on about Elvis but I say- piss on Elvis. Elvis should have been shot in the back of the head in 1959. Then he would have been great. Johnny Cash's music has grit and big hairy balls. Elvis was a soft cock. Bring on the hate mail but like The Wonder Stuff, I've never loved Elvis. Saturday night, I held my celebratory drinks as I did last year at my beloved Tiki Lounge and Bar. We decided to not make it the focal point so we had a jazz trio play. The Dry Martini's opened the night with their 'Mission Impossible'performance but the highlight was the debut of Spank The Minky AKA Shanghai Lil and Be Bop A Lola AKA Di and moi... I was shitting myself before the gig but once it was done I was pleased with it. I love performing despite it being so fucking nerve racking!! Photos to come soon.. beware! Bottoms with frilly knickers can be seen. Spent yesterday having brunch with my brother,George and his wife, Carmen at the restaurant where Nikki (my niece and their daughter) works. It's a mexican style restaurant called Blue Corn and they serve a mexican breakfast every weekend which kicks arse. Just what I needed and washed down with a Bloody Mary. Heaven. I spent the afternoon wandering around Acland and Barkly Streets. St Kilda has really lost it's soul. It used to be a great community of very different people but now it's completely developed and yuppified and not in a good way. It still has a few good shops but otherwise - blah. I fear Richmond will head that way too. Maybe it's time to head north as most of my friends have. Met up with Nikki when she finished her shift at Blue Corn where we shared a plate of fajitas. She shouted me a margarita and she sucked down a mojito, all mixed for us by her sexy Jake Gyllenhaal look alike workmate. We got a couple of takeaway cakes from Monarch and went back to hers for tea and cake. By then I was completely ready to pass out so I left for home. I watch Australian Idol (I know- feel free to mock me)and watched Bill Hicks and Hank Rollins clips on You Tube before showering and hitting the sack. Here it is,Monday night and I have no personality. I'm sure I'll find it under my pillow tomorrow.

Hand On My Heart, Head Up My Arse

I should write more often. The last 3 or so weeks have found this girl on such emotional highs and lows. I blog my hopes and dreams only to have them dashed and then I'm too embarrassed to say that I caught the loser bus again. That's life -or at least my life- I guess and everyone who has read my stuff knows that. Last time I actually wrote-song lyrics don't count here- was when I got asked out on a date. Said date didn't happen. Got the text about 90 mins before we were due to meet saying 'sorry can't do the gallery. I have to work'.. yeah right, whatever. I have seen him a few times since then but it was weird after the initial barrage of flirty,cheeky messages to have him change his mind and then nothing. In all reality, he is way too young for me or I'm too old for him but I still couldn't help feeling disappointed. I feel like I'm the butt of a joke in some sketch comedy show sometimes. That episode of The Simpsons where Lisa needs money to buy a copy of Bleeding Gums' album and she sees $100 note on the street. She goes to pick it up only to find it's attached to string and Mr Burns is driving away while Lisa's running to try and pick it up. That kind of sums up my efforts in the past year to couple up in some way. So, new plan. Forget all that crap. It's not working anyway so therefore- a waste of time and good effort. It shouldn't be that hard anyway. I've decided to dedicate all my time and effort to myself. It's definatly going to be all about me. Those people who can't seem to make time for me, fine, I won't make time for you. I'm going to be so busy I won't be able to fit you in anyway. I want a new life and I want it with the lot. I'm sick of being nice and accommodating all the time. If you need me, I won't be here. The doctor is out.

Stray

You don't have to tell me what you're still looking for, Two arms to hold you and a voice to say "That's alright, you can spend the night" Well, come around. 'Cos I've been there and these are the notes from the overground, The World Saxophone Quartet, the smell of violets And a passing friend won't let you down. Listen to the rhythm of the rain falling, Say you're gonna change your foolish ways. Make a promise, break a promise in the same day, It goes the same way, anyway. So you pray for silence and its sadness and its violence To be washed away, One day. I understand that state you've reached of being unreachable, Somewhere out there where only the music plays. Loneliness and being alone don't always mean the same, Who needs the movie? You can see the music anyway. A Sketch For Winter, a Burgundy and sanctuary can make me stay, When I feel that way. And if my words don't say the things that they were meant to say, And if confusion comes and carries all my words away, And if you still don't understand, I wanna hold your hand, And look at it this way... Someone singing's better than the war they're winning Winging its way, your way or my way, any day, anyway, Stray

A Perfect Love Song

Hello my friend It’s morning, time to wake now In body, in mind Entwined will have to break now But I need your flesh Your warmth to stay beside me Oh how I wish You could be deep inside me Show me your eyes Your low most tender feeling And I’ll give you mine Be truthful and revealing And it’s you that I love And it’s true that I love And it’s love not given lightly But I knew that it’s love And it’s you that I love And it’s more than what it might be When we’re alone I cannot always face you Maybe my mood Won’t let these arms embrace you But that doesn’t mean My love’s somehow diminished Give me the time To show our love’s unfinished And it’s you that I love And it’s true that I love And it’s love not given lightly But I know that it’s love And it’s you that I love And it’s more than what it might be And every word I say is true What can I say? The words destroy all meaning There’s only cliches To get across this feeling This is a love song For john and (? )’s mother This isn’t easy I might not write another And it’s you that I love And it’s true that I love And it’s love not given lightly But I knew that it’s love And it’s you that I love And it’s more than what it might be

Another Love Song

I love this song.. it's gorgeous If you've never been in love And you're longing for the happiness it brings Try your wings If you're hungry for the sound Of a lover saying sentimental things Try your wings A first love never comes twice So take this tender advice When it comes, try your wings And fly to the one you love Even the tiniest bluebird Has to leave its nest to fly What a bluebird can do You can do too, if you try If you’ve always had a dream But you’ve been afraid that it would not come true, hitherto Fall in love and you will find That it’s just what you’ve been dreaming of A first love never comes twice So take this tender advice When it comes, try your wings And fly to the one you love

On Seeing The 100% Perfect Girl One Beautiful April Morning

I was reading the profile of a new friend's My Space page and was going through his list of favourite books- a very good selection too. The first one noted in the the list had such a great title. I googled it and discovered it to not be a book, but a short story from which I assume is a collection of short stories entitled The Elephant Vanishes by Haruki Murukami. I love it's simplicity and it had me wondering if anyone has ever felt that way about me. As for me, I'm constantly falling in love with people for five minutes on a regular basis. One beautiful April morning, on a narrow side street in Tokyo's fashionable Harujuku neighborhood, I walked past the 100% perfect girl. Tell you the truth, she's not that good-looking. She doesn't stand out in any way. Her clothes are nothing special. The back of her hair is still bent out of shape from sleep. She isn't young, either - must be near thirty, not even close to a "girl," properly speaking. But still, I know from fifty yards away: She's the 100% perfect girl for me. The moment I see her, there's a rumbling in my chest, and my mouth is as dry as a desert. Maybe you have your own particular favorite type of girl - one with slim ankles, say, or big eyes, or graceful fingers, or you're drawn for no good reason to girls who take their time with every meal. I have my own preferences, of course. Sometimes in a restaurant I'll catch myself staring at the girl at the next table to mine because I like the shape of her nose. But no one can insist that his 100% perfect girl correspond to some preconceived type. Much as I like noses, I can't recall the shape of hers - or even if she had one. All I can remember for sure is that she was no great beauty. It's weird. "Yesterday on the street I passed the 100% girl," I tell someone. "Yeah?" he says. "Good-looking?" "Not really." "Your favorite type, then?" "I don't know. I can't seem to remember anything about her - the shape of her eyes or the size of her breasts." "Strange." "Yeah. Strange." "So anyhow," he says, already bored, "what did you do? Talk to her? Follow her?" "Nah. Just passed her on the street."She's walking east to west, and I west to east. It's a really nice April morning.Wish I could talk to her. Half an hour would be plenty: just ask her about herself, tell her about myself, and - what I'd really like to do - explain to her the complexities of fate that have led to our passing each other on a side street in Harajuku on a beautiful April morning in 1981. This was something sure to be crammed full of warm secrets, like an antique clock build when peace filled the world.After talking, we'd have lunch somewhere, maybe see a Woody Allen movie, stop by a hotel bar for cocktails. With any kind of luck, we might end up in bed.Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.Now the distance between us has narrowed to fifteen yards.How can I approach her? What should I say? "Good morning, miss. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation?" Ridiculous. I'd sound like an insurance salesman. "Pardon me, but would you happen to know if there is an all-night cleaners in the neighborhood?" No, this is just as ridiculous. I'm not carrying any laundry, for one thing. Who's going to buy a line like that? Maybe the simple truth would do. "Good morning. You are the 100% perfect girl for me."No, she wouldn't believe it. Or even if she did, she might not want to talk to me. Sorry, she could say, I might be the 100% perfect girl for you, but you're not the 100% boy for me. It could happen. And if I found myself in that situation, I'd probably go to pieces. I'd never recover from the shock. I'm thirty-two, and that's what growing older is all about.We pass in front of a flower shop. A small, warm air mass touches my skin. The asphalt is damp, and I catch the scent of roses. I can't bring myself to speak to her. She wears a white sweater, and in her right hand she holds a crisp white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: She's written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in her eyes. The envelope could contain every secret she's ever had.I take a few more strides and turn: She's lost in the crowd.Now, of course, I know exactly what I should have said to her. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for me to have delivered it properly. The ideas I come up with are never very practical.Oh, well. It would have started "Once upon a time" and ended "A sad story, don't you think?" Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl sixteen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary lonely boy and an ordinary lonely girl, like all the others. But they believed with their whole hearts that somewhere in the world there lived the 100% perfect boy and the 100% perfect girl for them. Yes, they believed in a miracle. And that miracle actually happened. One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street. "This is amazing," he said. "I've been looking for you all my life. You may not believe this, but you're the 100% perfect girl for me." "And you," she said to him, "are the 100% perfect boy for me, exactly as I'd pictured you in every detail. It's like a dream." They sat on a park bench, held hands, and told each other their stories hour after hour. They were not lonely anymore. They had found and been found by their 100% perfect other. What a wonderful thing it is to find and be found by your 100% perfect other. It's a miracle, a cosmic miracle.As they sat and talked, however, a tiny, tiny sliver of doubt took root in their hearts: Was it really all right for one's dreams to come true so easily?And so, when there came a momentary lull in their conversation, the boy said to the girl, "Let's test ourselves - just once. If we really are each other's 100% perfect lovers, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again without fail. And when that happens, and we know that we are the 100% perfect ones, we'll marry then and there. What do you think?""Yes," she said, "that is exactly what we should do."And so they parted, she to the east, and he to the west.The test they had agreed upon, however, was utterly unnecessary. They should never have undertaken it, because they really and truly were each other's 100% perfect lovers, and it was a miracle that they had ever met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. The cold, indifferent waves of fate proceeded to toss them unmercifully.One winter, both the boy and the girl came down with the season's terrible inluenza, and after drifting for weeks between life and death they lost all memory of their earlier years. When they awoke, their heads were as empty as the young D. H. Lawrence's piggy bank.They were two bright, determined young people, however, and through their unremitting efforts they were able to acquire once again the knowledge and feeling that qualified them to return as full-fledged members of society. Heaven be praised, they became truly upstanding citizens who knew how to transfer from one subway line to another, who were fully capable of sending a special-delivery letter at the post office. Indeed, they even experienced love again, sometimes as much as 75% or even 85% love.Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was thirty-two, the girl thirty.One beautiful April morning, in search of a cup of coffee to start the day, the boy was walking from west to east, while the girl, intending to send a special-delivery letter, was walking from east to west, but along the same narrow street in the Harajuku neighborhood of Tokyo. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each felt a rumbling in their chest. And they knew:She is the 100% perfect girl for me.He is the 100% perfect boy for me.But the glow of their memories was far too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of fouteen years earlier. Without a word, they passed each other, disappearing into the crowd. Forever.A sad story, don't you think?Yes, that's it, that is what I should have said to her.

Coincidence?

I smudged my room yesterday and got asked out on a date. For those unfamiliar with smudging, it's a ritual performed to rid the house of bad vibes, past spirits and like minded things with dried sage. I cleaned my room, sparked up the sage and walked around it, asking old feelings,spirits,vibes etc to leave. I then invited new life,love and positivity into the room. Admittedly, when I was done my room smelled like Bob Marley's tour bus but it felt different. Later on, I dressed for a night at Tiki. One of the guys from Route 66 was having birthday drinks and it was a good night. One of his friends whom I've met before and been communicating with on My Space asked me to see an exhibition currently showing at the NGV and took my phone number. We've just had an evening of witty sms banter. So I ask, coincidence? Or just a random event? Whatever the case, I'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts. It's nice.

Ah Fuck It

I put myself out there this week. Another no go. Instead of feeling disappointment, I felt like dancing. This particular man said he liked me,but had not long come out of a relationship in which he is still recovering from and can't commit his feelings to anything at the moment- YAY!!! At last- someone who can be honest with their feelings instead of jumping into another relationship to bury his hurt and disappointment of being dumped. Thank you... However... I'm still hanging for some lovin'... maybe next week?

Hey Jude

Jude Law has good taste in women. Too bad he fucked it up with both of them. Sadie Frost has been bagged out of late for dating younger men. That old strumpet... Last week someone asked her why she always went out with men younger than her... "Because men my age are already married or settled..." There you go people. The universal truth that no one wants to hear. So fuck you all. Then there's Sienna Miller who came out this week and said her longest and best relationship has been with wine. I have a new appreciation for that woman. Oh yeah, she's fantastic in Factory Girl as Edie Sedgwick... amazing. I too love younger men and wine. Why? All the men my age are already married and wine is always there for me and never lets me down. Bravo Sadie and Sienna.

Nobody Loves You When You're Down and Out

I'm having a weird day. I woke up this morning with full make up on and my contacts still in on the couch where I passed out last night. I got all gussied up and went to see the Nekromantix only to find the fuckers sold out and I had to turn my purdy self around and come home! Next time, get a bloody ticket on time MM!! I scraped off my make up, got dressed and went out to the local Salvos to indulge in one of my favourite passions when I have the time- op shopping. For a shop that large they sure had a lot of shit. I managed to find a very cool pair of shoes in my size and a fun handbag which set me back $15.. On the way home, a sense of melancholy set in. I came home and had a huge cry. I still feel a bit crappy and emotional. Life is changing and moving on. I've come to the realisation that my nearest and dearest aren't my nearest and dearest anymore. I make the effort as you do to contact them and try to get together but lately, no one has made that particular effort for me. All my friends are in coupledom and hey guess who isn't and never is? Me!! I usually play the martyr and do the 'what have I done wrong' 'what can I do to make it all right' crap and I can't do it anymore. I just want to accept that people move on and that I don't fit into anyone's mold. I never have and I don't think I ever will. I've always been like oil in water or the proverbial square peg. And that suits me fine. The more I accept these facts, the more I feel comfortable in my own skin and the happier I feel. I still love those girls and I'm ready to let go and let them move on. I too long for a man to couple with but as I've reported in many a blog- I want to find the right man as my girls have done. Sometimes I feel like I've burnt out my man karma by the shag fests I went on a few years back and this period of forced celibacy is my penance. Who knows? The universe needs to be balanced- it's the law of nature. You take and you have to give back. I didn't write the rules- they just are. I am in a deep and lonely hole at the moment. I feel like I have no one to turn to except this blog. I know I'm a good person and I have a lot to give. I just don't have the credentials and the kudos that people expect you to have. For better or worse- I am who I am. You can either like me or lump me. Looks like the menfolk lump me a lot! Sometimes I just wish to meet someone lovely to spend even a weekend with. Someone who'll kiss and hold me. Someone to make me feel like a sexy woman again. To feel like a sexual being. To be told I'm beautiful. To feel generally wanted by a man. I know this makes me sound pathetic but I don't care. So as I type away, tears rolling down my face- I still have no real answer as to what I'm going to do. Tonight,I'm going to dinner with David,Di and Sabrina as Sabrina is moving back to Sydney. I will miss her. At least I she's not far away and I can see her when I'm up in Sydney next. Tomorrow is our Cinema Exotica night at Tiki which should be a cracker of a night. I'm looking forward to dressing up and having a great time. I'm so hoping with everything I am that we get lots of people through the door. Thanks for stopping by and reading this tale of woe and blah...

A Tale Of Two Markets

I hate fucking hippies. Let me reiterate that... I HATE fucking hippies! Let me rephrase this: I hate middle class people who think they have a conscience about things that matter, don a pair of Thai fishermans pants, those shitty plastic clog things and a Nepalese beanie and start working in some sustainable farming industry thinking they are making the world a better place. Honey, you aren't and I'll tell you why. This morning, my friend and I got up early (reminder- it's a Saturday so this is a sacred thing) to go to an organic community project they have called Ceres. We have been told good things about it so we were excited about going to check it out and buy our organic produce here. From the time we got there, there were signs saying 'don't do this or don't do that'. We had to leave the dog in a certain area as it is not dog friendly, leaving poor little Dottie to whelp from seperation anxiety. The produce was really expensive so I only picked out a few items. The queue to pay for them was quite lengthy so I decided to go to their little organic shop as I need to get some popcorn seeds and some quinoa. Once I had them, I went back out and the queue was gone. I walked up to the table waiting to be served, only to have the 4 gonks behind it stare at me. It was only when the lady behind me said 'are you being served' and replied 'no' that something happen. The hippy bitch who served me was rude and grumpy, banging my vegies on the table after weighing and ringing them up and only spoke to me to tell me the price. My friend joined me a few moments later as she had to buy some mushrooms. Again, we were left standing there. Hippy bitch motioned to my friend to be served, only to ignore us once we got to the table. Apparantly, there was some rule about where and how you had to queue and we didn't get it right so instead of telling us how it is, they ignored us and gave us greasy looks. My friend dropped the bag of mushies on the table and said 'fuck this- let's go!'. I wish I had piffed mine at her head and demanded my money back. Christ on a bike- we were fuming when we left there. I am never going to that fucking place again and rest assured, I am getting on the phone this Monday to let them know how 'organic' I think they are. We went back to my friend's to drop the dog off and then drove down to the Convent Gallery where they were having their monthly farmers market. Talk about taking a 180 degree turn in atmosphere and service- everyone was so nice and the produce was much cheaper. It was heaven after hippy hell. No tea cosy hats, dreadlocks or Birkenstocks and very dog friendly. We could have brought Dottie along if we wanted to. I had the yummiest chorizo sausage in a roll with barbequed baby leeks and a parsley and garlic sauce- heaven in bread. I'm so glad we went there otherwise I'd still be in the crappiest mood. After sitting down for a latte and a custard tart (my wheat consumption has been through the roof this week and my homeopath is NOT going to be pleased at all), I was one happy lady. I'm looking forward to my roast dinner tonight with all the winter veg I just bought and hope that hippy bitch chokes on her tofu.

Winter of Discontent

I'm tired. I'm aching in the places I used to play. I don't know whether I want to sleep or dance. In a bit of a bind. Time for a change. Anyone have any suggestions?

Faith, Hope and Charity

Sorry about my brief albeit to the point last post. However, I couldn't think of anything more to write unless I faffed on about all the shit that was going on last week. I couldn't do that to you. It would have just sounded like a king sized whinge. Boring. Anyway, things are better this week except for the fact that my so called soon to be new housemate called me yesterday and has changed his mind at the eleventh hour. Instead of panicking or crying or whatever I was doing last week, I've decided to just wear it and soldier on to find another housemate. I'm re posting my ad tomorrow and I hope that the perfect person will be moving in within the next 2 weeks. My fabulous and amazing friend, Cathryn has generously offered a financial lifeline if I need it and I have accepted. I'm hoping not to need it but it's good to know it's there if I do. I'm just going to put myself in the hands of the universe and believe that that I'll find a house mate soon-not just one who'll be reliable with rent and bills, but a good and fun person. I'm just going to keep on truckin' with whatever is happening in my life and quite frankly, is a lot of good stuff. It's raining outside and I feel comforted by its lulling sound on the roof. I think I'm going to shower,go to bed and let it serenade me to sleep. I can't stop having erotic thoughts about Greg Combet... if it continues, I'll need professional help before I start staking out Trades Hall. Why does rain always make me feel horny?

Reflections

Life is crap at the moment...

Awakenings....

It's only taken me three years but I realised that I've been spelling my online name incorrectly. M-I-L-O-N-G-U-I-T-A not Milongita... This dire error has now been amended. Margarita Milonguita apologises for any inconvenience caused and to all porteños who may have endured my monginess for that time period.

Sorted?

It's just before 2am and just got home from a night at Tiki. Quiet but really really good. I was able to catch up with a few of the punters I really like and have a great catch up. David and Di had a gig out in Noble Park and they got back to the bar at around 11 ish. Most people left around midnight which just left David,Dianne,Steve,Trampy and moi chatting and having last drinks, with Chris ' raoahwwww' Issak crooning divinely in the background. It was nice to have that quiet time chatting and having a drink. Having a nice daiquiri and Red Stripe buzz as I type this. I love that place to bits. It is truly my home away from home. Well, it happened today. I have found my housemate. His name is Brett and I'm glad I found him. I don't want to talk to anymore people as it's giving me the shits. Let's hope he doesn't reneg! I don't think he will. He's had a good think and made a good decision. Here's to a new chapter in the Milongita's domestic life. It's already brilliant without Mr Grumpy around. I've been doing stuff like leaving my stockings and boots on the couch knowing that if he were here, it would drive him to mass murder if he were to witness such a thing. I'm doing it as a celebration. Rest assured, it's removed the following morning! I'm feeling great at the moment... or maybe it's just the daiquiri's talking... who cares? It's working. I'll take it.

Beginnings and Endings

What a difference a week makes. A week ago I posted how I was pulling arrows out of my chest. A week on, I feel completely fine about the whole stupid scenario. I realise now that I've slowly been getting over the whole thing but felt I should give it one last crack. Oh well, boo fucking hoo hey? My housemate has moved back to Perth to begin his new life working on a mine site somewhere in the boonies of WA. I'm currently enjoying the solitude of the house listening to the Ramones and leaving the house in an unholy wreck. Bliss. I've begun my search for the new housemate and it's been a little bit tricky. I picked someone and she's already renegged on me! It turns out that a girlfriend has broken up with her bloke and is looking for someone to share with which is the same scenario this girl is in so probably best they console one another. I only wanted her for her moggies anyway. I had psycho Indian guy stalking me for the room and I happily gave him the news that he will not be moving in. No fucking way mate. I've just spent the last 2 years minding my p's and q's and I don't wish to continue doing so. The guy I interviewed tonight seems to be the likely candidate. We clicked pretty well and appreciated my honesty in everything. He is 33 and quite frankly, a bit yummy! Maybe one of my other single dames could couple with him. Very knackered after a weekend of fan fucking tastic tango workshops. I loved the technique they teach- the milonguero style is the most perfect to me of all the dances within the tango. Signorita Margarita Milonguita learned some very slick and stylish moves. Can't wait to get out on the floor and practice them! Speaking of hitting the floor, our final song for the night last Friday was the 'Hawaii Five-O' theme. David and I starting doing this wild improv sixties type dance. MM thought she'd be slick and do fantastic run up with knee slide across the floor. Wood and nylon don't make a good combo which resulted in this wahine burning her patellas. Not stopping there, MM continued her wild improv dance and was doing well- I even had audience participation. I was going along a treat except for the fact that the heel caps on my tango shoes need replacing and slipped and hit the deck with a THUD. Being the seasoned professional mong that I am, I continued on and people thought I had meant that move. How cool is that? 3 days, 2 scabby knees and 1 sore arse later, I leave you with this tale of high energy dancing and dignity lost. Oh the humanity.

Ride With Me

Once upon a time, there lived in Indieville, a great little band named The Lemonheads. They had a cute singer named Evan Dando who wrote fabulous pop tunes and was very good at covering a few songs as well. Eventually he became a useless junkie and gave everyone the shits at gigs. That's about it. Okay that was a tad harsh of me I admit. I was reminded of Evan's musical beauty today when I was having one of my 'go to the back of the CD pile' moments and found an EP they recorded called 'Favourite Spanish Recipes'. It has a cover of 'Different Drum' and what has become my most favourite and loved Lemonheads song-Ride With Me. I listened to it 4 times in a row and absorbed it's magic. This song reminds me of a gig I went to at Gaslight Records (RIP) in 1993 and Evan did an instore appearance. I remember him performing this song-one of the few times I had heard it- and it still stands out (along with his cover of ABBA's 'Knowing Me,Knowing You-resplendant with a friend and I doing the 'A HA' bits in between). Here's the song. Read the words, feel the emotion. And hope Evan gets back on track. That pencil smell, reminds me of school The clock on the wall, I can no longer fool Time to get in my car Been so dull, tired and tight Time to trust these old tires Time to not say goodnight Jesus rides with me His will is plain to feel Come on, you can be Got yourself to steal He's everywhere, sends me straight across the plain He's in your hair, he'll forgive me my pain You're my girl don't you show it To know you know is to know it When you can't trust yourself Baby, trust someone else Jesus rides with me His will is plain to feel Come on, you can be Got yourself to steal You're my girl don't you show it To know you know is to know it When you can't trust yourself Baby, trust someone else Ride with me Ride with me Ride with me