Fin De La Semana

How quickly Mondays roll around. The alarm goes off too soon and then my cat is whacking me across the head to get fed. Pity you can't snooze him as you can a clock or mobile phone. Shower,dress,coffee and out the door. Train commute (note to people who think it's perfectly okay to put your bags,etc on a seat whilst others are standing- STOP THAT SHIT AND GROW SOME MANNERS!) and the short walk to work from Southern Cross Station (thank you Ramones for the excellent companionship there) and here we are again. Which brings me to my weekend. Got home on Friday night tired. All I really wanted to do was eat,put my jarmies on and crash. However, loyalty to certain people got me out the door eventually so Trent and I glued ourselves together and headed the 5 minute walk in the night cold to the Bendigo Hotel. Not the night I was expecting. More like a family BBQ than the sixties extravaganza I was led to believe it was going to be. Ended up in the beer garden drinking and chatting most of the night which was good. Had a boogie at the end of the night when it was ending just to keep myself awake. I had to wait for Bags and Vicki so I didn't have to walk home alone. Bloody owner kept buying them beers to thank them so we didn't get out of there till 1.45! Me very tired by that stage so I went home and crashed. Saturday I caught up with an old AXA friend for breakfast at the fabulous El Mirage cafe in East Brunswick. Oh my Lordy- amazing food and a couple of the staff there are dead yummalicious too. It was great to see Caz and to hear that she's really getting her life together. Got home in the early afternoon to find Trent having a mime lesson with his mime instructor. I decided to use that time to leave the house and go for a cycle down to Brunswick St on his lowrider- I love the attention I get when I ride that thing. I'll post a pic of myself on it when I get one! When I arrived home, said mime lesson had concluded and I was free to do the housework that I'd come home to do. I caught up with another old friend in the evening. We went to see a local art exhibition and then went to dinner and caught up with what's been happening. We were both tired as she does St Andrews market on a Saturday which makes for a long day so we called it quits and I was home just after 9pm. I stayed up and watched Rage as Marky Ramone programmed it and it was chock full of amazing music. The Clash, Elvis Costello, a myriad of great punk/new wave tunes and of course, loads of Ramones. Heaven for this girl. I got up early yesterday morning, took a quick bike ride up to the bank to get some cash and back in time for my accountant. I'm getting a decent refund so I'm happy about that! After he left, I got ready and went into the city for breakfast and to buy some new headphones for the iPod before spending the day with my family. I got back to the ranch late and went straight to bed. Here we are again. I've just checked my calendar and I have ten days to pack up my belongings and move them out. I'm officially homeless on August 1. A week later, I'm off to Buenos Aires so I have just under 3 weeks of Argentina bliss before I have to think about where I'm going to call home again. I know I'll find it and it will be great.

Drag Queens A Go Go

Hallelujah- the weekend has landed! Anna's Go Go Academy (where I know how to pony like Bony Maroney) is holding a go go night at the Bendigo Hotel where I do my go go classes every Tuesday night. Off home now to eat, rest and get dolled up. Might even get the false eyelashes happening.. It's a go go extravaganza respendant with girls in cages, a drag queen(hmmm?) and pints o' cider. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

My Life In Pictures

Mediation

Medication Meditation

You're Soaking In It

Just booked a session at the Japanese Bath House in Collingwood. My neck is out and my housemate swears by the place when he's achy.

26 fat ones for a bath. It better be bloody good.

I'm staying in till I prune... I'll let you know how I go.

Pets Sounds,Brian Wilson and Moi

Monday morning and feeling a bit introspective. Woke up this morning feeling very uninspired. If it wasn't for Louie practically clawing my face to be fed, I may have made that phone call so that I could remain in bed doing nothing until midday. Decided Louie shouldn't suffer for my malaise so I got up and made a coffee after placating my cat with dead roo. I got dressed then sat down to enjoy my coffee and began thinking of everything that's going on at the moment. The panic I was feeling is beginning to subside. I'm still angry and hurt but it's simmering rather than boiling. My pot does not runneth over. I feel as if I'm glimpsing a universe that has possibilities and opportunities, rather than the usual feeling that life is against me and full of booby traps. I finally got myself out the door and strapped on the iPod for company. Flicking through the selections I settled on 'Pet Sounds' by The Beach Boys. Loving the twee beauty of 'Wouldn't It Be Nice' and 'Dont Talk-Put Your Head On My Shoulder' and the sublime 'God Only Knows', I really listened to the lyrics of 'I Know There's An Answer or Hang On To Your Ego; "I know there's an answer/I know but I have to find it for myself" Hardly a revelation I know, but it just seems fitting for my life at the moment. I know I could never compare my little life to that of Brian Wilson but I can relate to his opting out of life and just wanting to stay in his PJ's and not leaving his bed. I've spent time off work, staying in my jim jams and hardly moving off the couch due to a combination of fear and self loathing. Brian Wilson at least spent that time creating great music and it was during this time that he created the musical genius we know as the Pet Sounds album. I guess I've always hoped that someone would come along and solve all my problems for me. The older I get, the worse the problems get and it's become evident that that 'someone else' just isn't going to happen. I have a long road to travel and I'm taking no prisoners, just myself. I've set up the support system and it's all going to work out. This is my song at the moment... this song really speaks to me.. I keep looking for a place to fit Where I can speak my mind I've been trying hard to find the people That I won't leave behind They say I got brains But they ain't doing me no good I wish they could Each time things start to happen again I think I got something good goin' for myself But what goes wrong Sometimes I feel very sad Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) I guess I just wasn't made for these times Every time I get the inspiration To go change things around No one wants to help me look for places Where new things might be found Where can I turn when my fair weather friends cop out What's it all about Each time things start to happen again I think I got something good goin' for myself But what goes wrong Sometimes I feel very sad Sometimes I feel very sad(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) Sometimes I feel very sad(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) I guess I just wasn't made for these times

Conundrum

Call me elitist but I don't think I like the idea of a Ramones/Quiksilver merger. Saw this as I got off the tram yesterday; Hey Ho... let's not go. Jetty Surf and the Ramones taste clumsy on my palate. Joey would be turning in his grave. However, Dee Dee would be grateful for the extra money for smack- if he hadn't already OD'd.

Louie's Latest Obsession

Evidently, one pink furry cushion is not enough. He goes at those things like John Shaft.

"He's a complicated cat and no-one understands him like his pillows..".

Death By Chocolate

Found this story on the Hun website. What a way to go. DESPERATE workers battled in vain to save a 29-year-old man who died after falling into a vat of molten chocolate at a factory. Vincent Smith II was with three workers dumping chunks of chocolate into the simmering liquid when he somehow lost his balance and fell in. TV pictures showed one of his distraught colleagues standing outside the factory in Camden, New Jersey, his clothes covered in chocolate. He had apparently tried to rescue the man who had died by the time emergency services arrived at the scene ten minutes later. Jason Laughlin, spokesman for the Camden County Prosecutor's Office, said an investigation has been launched into the incident. "He somehow slipped and fell into the vat," he said. "Inside the vat, he was hit by a piece of equipment called the agitator that's used to stir, and that killed him." Mr Laughlin said the vat at the Cocoa Services Inc plant was around 8ft deep. "At this point there's no suggestion of foul play," he added. "It appears to be an accident. "This man unfortunately fell into this hole and passed away before anyone could rescue him." Cocoa Services employs another company - Lyons and Sons - to do the mixing at the factory.

A Month From Today....

Wow I can't believe that this time next month, I'll be in Buenos Aires. That's just too much for me to contemplate at the moment! Instead of becoming overwhelmed by what I need to do before I get on the plane, I'm allowing myself to think of the things I want to do and might actually do whilst I'm there;

• Tango tango and more tango
• Milongas most evenings
• Private lessons during the day
• Spending the days walking through all the different neighbourhoods
• Cafe con leche and cake at Cafe Tortoni
• Op shopping and hoping I'll snaffle great things like a faux leopard print coat in my size!
• Shopping for the perfect pair(s) of tango shoes (comme il fait, Gretaflora,neotango,whatever!).
• Meeting all sorts of people
• Street tango in Camanito and San Telmo
• Mass beef consumption
• Sharing mate (pr MAH TAY) with porteños
• Late lunches followed by a siesta
• Spending a day at Recoleta Cemetary
• Seeing a soccer match and embracing the chaos
• Getting piropas in the street
• Go to Uruguay or Mendoza for a couple of days

Above all, I'm looking forward to arriving there with no expectations and soaking in everything Buenos Aires has to offer. It will be good to be able to put this month behind me and enjoy the 3 weeks I'll have there.

May it give me the strength and inspiration I need.

It's Automatic When I Talk To Old Friends

Miguel y Margarita

Yesterday afternoon I was at my desk at work contemplating what I might do with myself for the evening when I checked my phone and saw I had a missed call and a message. Checked the message- a number I didn't know. Opened the message and it said; "Guess who? I'll be at the Dickens between 5 and 8 if you want to catch up for a drink' I let out an audible WOO HOO! My dear old friend, Michael has finally moved back to Melbourne after many years living in Prague. Evening sorted! I caught the tram down as far as Elizabeth & Collins and walked the short distance to ye olde Charles Dickens Tavern and went downstairs. Nothing ever changes in that place and it's like sliding backwards in time whenever I go there. Incidently, I only ever go there when I'm catching up with Michael- he and the boys would always go there to watch the soccer. I used to go with them to perv on the English backpackers until I realised they had an IQ the same as their shoe size. Anyhoo, I wandered around the crowded room looking for my Mikey boy and couldn't see him or any of the group I assumed he had also contacted for a catch up when I felt a hand on my shoulder and there he was! We hugged for ages as we couldn't believe we were finally seeing one another again. Mikey is one of the most good hearted people I have ever met. There is no edge or meanness to him whatsoever. I've never seen him lose his temper or shout at anyone. I've seen him brooding and ruminating over things that have upset him, but have never witnessed him losing the plot.Mikey smokes a lot-perhaps he's found his peace and centre of the universe in nicotine. His version of 'in with love, out with anger'. Mikey is smart. He can speak on most subjects and is never boring. He has an amazing knowledge of history and can discuss most areas regarding this topic. His university asked him to do honors in history but he declined because 'he couldn't be arsed'. Hardworking,generous,kind and relaxed. I think deep down he's always been a great hero of mine. We met in 1988 at a club called the Beehive which was held at the Carron Tavern in West Melbourne and initially bonded over our love of independant music, mainly the Smiths and eventually a plethora of other bands which generally all hailed from the UK. Mikey's true musical love is Northern Soul and I lost him for about six months whilst he was trying to infiltrate the mod scene in Melbourne After purchasing an old Vespa, a tailor made Italian mohair suit,expensive shirts,shoes and pants, he gave up trying because "most of them were fucking tossers". He does look rather fetching in his mohair suit although I'm pretty sure his Vespa is probably still rusting away in his parents' backyard. He's now back here in Melbourne after a long time and I for one, am extremely happy. Knowing full well he's a man with wheels on his feet, it won't be long before he's thinking of where he wants to be next. He's talking about Africa and the work he's been involved with in the last year working with non government groups. He wants to go there and help start a school and teach english there. I can't help feeling a bit selfish and secretly wishing he'd find something here but you can't fault or deny his ambition and desire to go elsewhere. It's a good way to think and I hope his self belief and enthusiasm for higher places rubs off on me. A good night was had, drinking beers and catching up on what's been happening although it feels as if no time has passed and it had only been a couple of weeks rather than a couple of years. A few weeks ago, I caught up with another old friend, Jim and had the same experience. I guess that is one of the meanings of true friendship; time can pass and things happen but you can come together and pick up where you left off. I'm finding a great comfort in that.

Roll The Dice

If you’re going to try, go all the way.
Otherwise, don’t even start.

 If you’re going to try, go all the way.
This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs
 and maybe your mind.

 Go all the way.
It could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days.
 It could mean freezing on a park bench.
It could mean jail;
 it could mean derision, mockery, isolation.
 Isolation is the gift;
all the others are a test of your endurance,
of how much you really want to do it.

 And you’ll do it
despite rejection and the worst odds
and it will be better than anything else you can imagine.

 If you’re going to try, go all the way.
 There is no other feeling like that.
You will be alone with the gods
and the nights will flame with fire.
 Do it,
do it,
do it.
Do it.

 All the way
all the way.
You will ride life straight to perfect laughter,
 it’s the only good fight there is.

 - Charles Bukowski

Broooooooooce!

Snaps to Bruce Springsteen, who at the latest Glastonbury Festival,performed a cover of Joe Strummer's song 'Coma Girl' and dedicated it to Joe and his love of music festivals. Besitos mucho Brucie and Joe.. I will love you forever. Here are the lyrics in case you're not familiar with the song; I was crawling through a festival way out west i was thinking about love and the acid test but first i got real dizzy with a real rockin' gang then i saw the coma girl, and the excitement gang and the rain came in from the wide blue yonder through all the stages, i wandered oh coma girl, and the excitment gang mona lisa, on a motorcylce gang coma girl, coma girl The coma girl was beating with the oil drum gang some fast food fanatic was burning down a burger van somebody was waling off their head oh! Nobody was rippin the teen scene dead and the rain, came in from the wide blue yonder i thought you and me might wander... oh coma girl, and the excitement gang mona lisa, on a motorcycle gang coma girl, coma girl, on a motorcycle gang And then the nineteenth hour was falling upon desolation row some outlaw band, had the last drop on the go lets siphon up some gas!! lets get this show on the road!! said the coma girl, to the excitement gang Into action , everybody sprang and the oil drums were beating out, doolang, doolang coma girl and the excitment gang mona lisa on a motorcycle gang

"Have You Seen My Pussy?".. Farewell Mrs Slocombe..

Logged in to The Age when I got into work this morning - as you do- and noticed the latest in the line of deaths of famous people. Mollie Sugden, who is known mainly for her role as the fabulous Betty Slocombe in 'Are You Being Served'has died at the age of 86 after a long illness. I could copy and paste the whole article here but I won't. Vale Mollie-thanks for the memories. You were a bloody legend.

Maybe Tuesday Will Be My Good News Day

I've taken a vow of silence this week. Let's just say life on the domestic front is less than perfect. Ms Thing has been asked to leave the building and I have agreed to do so. However, I don't wish to talk to anyone. In short, I haven't been having a good time of things emotionally which has translated to 'bad housemate' therefore the problem must be removed. So, I'll stick my stuff in storage at the end of July and then fuck off to Sth America. Three weeks of tango,drinking,sight seeing,afternoons in Cafe Tortoni and mass consumption of beef should see me through. I guess I'll be a vagrant on my return until I find somewhere decent to live. This share house caper is -as the Yiddish say- for chumps. I went back to it as a way of not being insular and hermit-like but in all honesty, it's driving me straight back to medication. Or the bottle... mmm alcohol! I'll get out of this funk but it's just that life is sucking big meaty one's at the minute. I'm actually finding some solace and clarity in my silence. I'm looking forward to living alone again if the truth be told. I'll be poor but at least I'll be happy. No more living with petty bullshit and anal retentive ways. I love my organised chaos and my sometimes burst of obsessive tidying where I'll spend a day cleaning and tidying absolutely everything which may include vacuuming out drawers... yes be afraid, be very afraid. Just read my horoscope in the Age that tells me tonight is a good night for cleaning out my cupboards and not to think about romance of any kind. **Queue Twilight Zone music*** (oh yes and why would I think of romance of any kind? Are you winding up, Virgo?). So, apologies for this kind of downer post. I promised myself I wasn't going to spill forth my surgery scarred guts on blogs anymore but this one has been oddly healing. Anyway, let's leave on a positive note- here's me drinking to me;

Margarita with a Margarita

Mad (Wo)man

Despite my 'woo hoo' blog first thing this morning, I'm in a bit of a funk today. Have ten tonne thoughts swarming around my head and haven't slept properly in 2 days. In a fit of madness and sadness, I logged into www.secretsinlace.com and bought myself some Joan Holloway-esque lingerie. Very Ooh la la. Not sure if I'll look like Our Joanie or Ooh La La-ish but perhaps the red satin will cheer this girl up. Until then, I eagerly await my air mailed undies from the States. Naughty me.

Mushrooms,Chips & Vinnies

Monday morning. Two of the worse words put together in the English language. I went away for the weekend up to the country to visit the fabulous Ms Rose, Mr Mars and Lady Arky at their gorgeous property in Waterloo which is about 20 minutes outside of Ballarat. Rather than write about it, I thought I'd let the pictures tell the story: Sunday morning.. back of the house with the lovely sunshine and the mist rising. Gorgeous. Yes. It's a donkey eating a carrot. Golden tops... we couldn't decide if they're edible but we didn't find out. Strange penile looking mushroom... facinating! MM with strange fungi... Psilocybins anyone? A lazy afternoon... spent in the warmest room.. Rose knits one, purls one Arky in her 'awesome' jumper purchased an hour before from Vinnies and MM chowing down on chips in the Bridge Mall, Ballarat MM modelling her newly purchased bed jacket-100% authentic bri-nylon from the 60's. Vinnie's Ballarat-cool items bagged- time to flex the plastic! Hmmm not sure about this shirt... looking like a bag lady in Vinnies, Alfredton

Blue Faced Jarvis

I was just trawling through the CNN website, trying to find out if the rumour that Jeff Goldblum along with Jacko and Farrah has bought the proverbial farm is true and tripped over the above video. It's Oxfam's latest campaign to raise awareness for climate change. It's a bloody ripper and a great message. Any excuse to talk about Jarvis really. I love him. BTW- Jeff Goldblum is not dead. Neither is Harrison Ford. Jacko and Farrah- true. Is is wrong that I'm not the least bit sad that MJ is dead? As far as I'm concerned, he died after he made 'Thriller'. Vale Farrah. Here's your iconic 'swimsuit pic' from the 70's in memoriam..

Margarita MiMONGuita

I'm having a rough time of it at the moment. Maybe it's an age thing. Maybe I've had too much to drink and it's taking it's toll. Maybe I've always just had a really bad fucking short term memory! I've lost my phone for the second time this year. For the life of me, I don't know what I've done with it. I remember having it on my way home as I was texting my house mate back. My guess is, I put it in my coat pocket and it fell on the seat of the taxi on the way to the restaurant. That much I know because when I reached into my pocket and then my handbag, it wasn't there. I assumed I left it at home but, as I discovered when I returned there, it wasn't. Big fat smelly hairy bugger. I'm going away for the weekend and I forgot to pack my camera. Anyone who truly knows me will find this fact baffling as I always have the bloody thing,taking snaps of whatever I fancy. I was so tired this morning,trying to pack and placate a whingy cat that I completely forgot to grab it. Would have made for a great Monday blog. I guess I can get Rosie to take pics and I can load them onto the ol'memory stick... I need a memory stick for my brain! That would be fabulous! Okay.. need to focus. And eat some breakfast....Brain food perhaps?

Kissing Booth

"Come on baby, knock me a kiss!" SUCCESS! The Milonguita gets her man and another ten bucks in the cigar box!

My Fat Furry Boy

I want to introduce you to Louie. Louie is my cat who I adopted nearly 2 months ago. He was completely freaked out when he arrived at our warehouse and when he was let out of his cat box, he escaped and hid: Eventually he warmed to us (or just got hungry)and he's now part of the Down St family. He's the size of a small dog and would eat 24/7 if you let him. He thinks it's perfectly normal to wake me up at 4.30am for his breakfast, even if it means biting or scratching to arouse me from my sleep. We love him- how could you not?

Like Starting Over

As you have probably surmised, I haven't written anything for a helluva a long time. I haven't had anything to say. I still don't know what I'm going to say but I was reading over my old blogs and have decided-just now-that I'm just gonna damn well start. I stopped blogging because all I was doing was blogging my miserable life. When I read back on what I wrote, I couldn't stand what I was writing so I figured it would be doubly painful for all of you! I read other people's blogs and as I stumble across them I remember how other's used to stumble across mine and leave positive messages. It's such a great way to communicate with the world. You can always be a writer of sorts if you're a blogger and nothing wrong with giving yourself a feeling a self importance. I'm sure I have tons to write about. One of these days, a door in my head is going to open and a tidal wave of thoughts and ideas will pour forth, ready to be turned into words. It's Monday evening and I have just eaten my body weight in licorice. I don't need it but I inhale it anyway. I should go home to my fat bastard of a cat who is named Louie and is seriously the size of a small dog. We need a 'Beware Of The Cat' sign on the front door. He'll be rugby tackling me for his dinner as soon as I get upstairs. I think I'll get the tram home tonight so I can go straight to the shops on Smith St and then home, rather than home,Smith St and back home again. If I'm lucky enough to get a seat on the tram, I'll have more time to read. Okay, that wasn't too hard. First blog in quite a while. I might try again tomorrow.

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

Another Suitcase In Another Hall

Either I was born under a bad sign or I have and am never going to have – no luck in having a relationship with los hombres.

Last night, MM went out with the object of her desire. Admittedly, the girlish giddiness I initially felt had left the proverbial building but the interest or perhaps hope of things kicking off with him were still there. The night was going fabulously. He got to mine at around 6.30-ish and had a couple of brewskis before heading down to Quan 88 for some fabulous Vietnamese food. After chowing down on spring rolls, chilli squid and veg and bean curd with rice, we hailed a cab and headed for a night of salsa at the Night Cat with the fabulous latin band, Rumberos. We had time to have a good chat and get a couple of beers in before the band came on. MM was looking tres hot (may I say) in my saucy new red dress and fish nets and my ubiquitous red lippy. We made our move to the crowded floor and attempted some feeble yet effectual salsa moves and were really getting into it. After 3 or so songs, we admitted that the place was inundated with far too many 20 somethings and was too packed for us 40 somethings so we opted for quieter digs. I suggested Kanella bar down the road but were closing up when we got there so we crossed the road and ended up at the Spanish Bar. After grabbing a couple more beers, we moved into a booth and started chatting. In course of conversation, I asked him why his marriage had ended. I won’t publish it here as it’s highly personal. He then told me that he had a 5 year relationship with someone that didn’t end all that well but 2 weeks ago, she emailed him out of the blue. They caught up and…. now they’re back together!!

Jeezy creezy, how does that happen? When he uttered those words, I felt like it was happening to someone else. I just did the ‘oh wow’ and ‘oh, yes?’ etc etc and tried not to betray myself. I then started asking questions on the whole situation which gave me a deeper insight into him. I was concerned when he said he told her he had started doing tango in the last year and her response was ‘ Hmm I don’t know about that. Why don’t you choose another form of dance?” Thankfully his response was that he had no desire to do another form of dance. I then said in semi jest; “ We’ve just started our private lessons and she’s gonna take my dance partner away!’ in which he responded “ no that isn’t going to happen.” Good news for the MM. I’m wondering if any future scrag fights will ensue on the dance floor (cue Sophie Bexter Ellis).

 We left the old Spanish Club (read were kicked out) and came back here for a cuppa and some of the chocolates my mum had given me (word of advice: avoid Guylian’s version of Favourites like the plague- disgusting). After a chat and bagging out said chocolates, he got in his car and went home. I sparked up the laptop, got into my jim jams and started watching the copy of Evita my nephew had lent me that day. So far, not good. I couldn’t concentrate anyway. I had a slight constriction in my throat and the sensation of an arrow in my chest. As I watched Madonna, Antonio and the rest of the gang singing away, I kept repeating the mantra of ‘I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry’.

 Mercifully, I passed out at some stage and woke up with Madonna bleating out another song (oh yeah, musical- that singing shit never ends). I turned the blessed thing off and tried to slip back into unconsciousness but to no avail. I couldn’t get the fucking thoughts out of my head and the feelings of self doubt and being the old odd sock. I slipped in and out of sleep, heard the rubbish men as usual at around six, and had sleep of sorts till around 8. I pulled up the lap top and began writing this post as a word document (don’t have wireless yet and I’m still in bed) and decided ‘bugger it- I have to have that fucking cry.’ It wasn’t a big boo hoo hoo or a woe – is – me, more of a ‘here we go again’ but I realised as I let the emotion flow down my face, it wasn’t too bad. I’m in a better place than I was a year ago. These things happen as yard sticks and if I received this kind of news a year ago, I would have been totally gutted. I wouldn’t be writing this blog.

I guess I can take the clichéd positives from this situation. As a friend, he is a fabulous person. I now have a dance partner for my tango lessons so we can help one another perfect our technique of the dance we love so much. In reality, I don’t think we would work as a couple anyway but you can’t help being hopeful and I like that. It means you aren’t hardened or jaded. It means you still have passion for life and a need to reach forward for better things. It means you aren’t cynical and fatalistic about life. I love that I still feel hopeful even though most of my pursuits of coupling in the last few years have been paramount to a kick in the guts.

 And the best thing I’ve learnt is- I’m fabulous and I deserve to be loved.

Gotan Project

If this gig was the night before it was, then I wouldn't be writing this post. The Friday night prior to the gig saw this girl hit the deck with chronic flu which left me bed ridden for all of Saturday and most of Sunday. With the aid of lamb shank soup and much paracetamol, I managed to glue myself together and get to the gig. I was picked up at 6.45pm so we could get in early to watch David and Dianne do tango demonstrations to Gotan's music out the front before the show, also giving us the opportunity to hand out flyers to advertise Sidewalk Tango (cheeky monkeys aren't we?). Armed with a bottle of water and a wad of Kleenex, I took my seat with my compañeros and waited for the show to begin. And begin it did. The walked onto the stage all dressed in either white suits or white gowns. The 3 female violin players positioned at the back behind pianist, Gustavo Beytelmann, the bandoneon player Nini Flores front and centre, to his left, the Barcelona based Cristina Vilallonga and Gotan founder, Eduardo Makaroff. The other 2 Gotan Projecters, Phillippe Cohen Solal and Christoph Mueller were behind them on the decks. A mirror image of a beautiful girl fanning herself with a red fan appeared behind them and also on the front screen of the decks as the band opened with the track Diferente. This is an amazingly song as the tango is powerful in this track. The girl with the red fan was mesmerizing. The film then cuts to Buenos Aire's famous Confitería Ideal where a couple are dancing a tango (not much else happens there-duh MM) but just off to the right in the background, you see the girl with the red fan. Ever have goosebumps rush over you in seconds? Whoever thought of that image with that music is a genius. Well, it worked for me and cynics be damned. They followed that up with the opening track from Lunático 'Amor Porteño' in which they collaborated with the Arizona group, Calexico. They had images of the band behind them which also gave good effect. The title track of the album, Lunático, was Carlos Gardel's race horse in the 1930's, before he met his untimely and premature death in a plane accident in 1935. For those unfamiliar with Carlos Gardel, he is often described as 'the Elvis of tango'. During the performance of this song, they showed images of a horse race in the 30's. The track Celos (Jealousy) has the sounds of a busy cafe in the background of the song, and the visuals show punters drinking coffee in Buenos Aires famous Cafe Tortoni. Surprisingly, it is half way through the show, not at the end, in which they choose to perform their most famous hit Santa Maria. I applaud them for not doing the clichèd finish! They followed this up with Mi Confesión- which begins with the strains of a tango playing on an old 78 record and then breaks into modern beats. They collaborate with 2 rappers- one from Buenos Aires and one from Spain who rap in Spanish. I'll get my hands on the program and fill you in on their names when I can as their names escape me. Again, they use the technology to bring the 2 rappers to the stage- again, a good touch. They follow with a nice moment for those of us that love pure tango- the bandeneon,guitarist,cellist,pianist and one of the violinist remain on stage to perform a tango that made me forget I was feeling so crook for a moment. Perfection. The band then do their first encore and perform their version of Astor Piazzola's Vuelvo El Sur ( I return south) from their debut, La Revancha Del Tango (The Revenge of the Tango) and another track from the same album, Una Música Brutal. Their second encore had them performing a lengthy version of their tune Triptico and it was indeed, a journey. Everyone was on their feet and in the aisles. Each musician took turns stepping forward and performed a solo that had me soaring. When it ended, the whole house had gone berserk. Dianne and I looked at each other and exclaimed 'what a way to go out!' The only disappointment was they then brought out 2 local hip hop performers doing all that 'Melbourne represent!' bullshit and performed 'Mi Confesion' in English which I felt was unnecessary. This was a tango, not a hip hop crowd. I wish I had a pair of scissors to cut that bit off the night! Despite this, Gotan Project put on a hell of a show and one that I'm glad I left my sick bed for. Music-on this night-soothed this ravaged beast...

Stay Tuned

Hey pop pickers.. the Milongita has been wiped out with the worst flu that she can ever remember getting so blogging not a option due to light headedness and coughing one's brain's out. It's also tricky typing with tissues shoved up your nose. Will be back as soon as I have energy to write about Gotan Project gig. Okay, back to the couch. And for god's sake, put something decent on telly- I'm dying!

She's Got A New Spell

Hey there punters.. I've had a severe case of writers block. Actually, I still do but I'm going to try and write something everyday to inspire me and get back into the rhythm of it again. In fact, this is my new attitude about things. Instead of waiting for one thing to happen so that I can do something else, I'm just going to do that thing and then get to the next. Like my idea of getting fit and achieving a fabulous pilates body and THEN getting sensational haircut. I realised that this way of thinking it fucked. I mean, why put up with bad hair whilst going through the pains in my stomach and thighs? So I took the plunge last Tuesday after work and cut all my hair off. I started pilates on Thursday so the wheels are in motion. Unfortunatly the job front has been really disappointing but I'm not beaten yet. I just need to work on that one a lot more than I have. A friend went for a job last week and I saw how much preparation she did for the interview. In the end it was a job that was all wrong for her and she didn't want but it made me think that I haven't gone about my approach for new work in the right way. Another something that MM needs to get on to. The other thing is my desire to write a book. I'm putting it off because I haven't really got anything to write it on at the moment. I'm currently using my house mate's computer as I'm not in a financial position to buy one at the moment. However, he's off to Perth for 2 weeks so I should use that time to at least start collating the recipes I want to use. After that, I just have to think about the text I wish to use such as the introduction to the book and to each chapter. It will be a lot of work but I have to at least start. All of you have to get on my back and make sure I'm doing this. I'm listening to the latest Gotan Project album called Lunatico and it is sensational. We have tickets to see their show next Sunday so that's where I'll be this time next week. Can't wait. I'll tap out a review of the show so you can read it and comment. I've hated this sabbatical from writing as I love doing it but as you can tell by my last post, I've had fuck all to write about. I guess I just need to read and listen to the world around me - it seems that's what we bloggers do, observe and comment. And that's not such a bad thing, is it?

Banal Retention

Here we are again... the beginning of another year. Yes I know we're 15 days into it but if you know me well, writing my first blog of the year now makes perfect sense. Not a lot has happened thus far. I haven't felt very inspired to write anything and when I have, I've been at work where I can no longer blog. I'm in a situation where I can only use the home PC when my housemate is out as my computer has gone kaput and I haven't got the $$$ to get another one at the moment. Woe is me. Instead of whinging and complaining about my lack of life, I'm going to give myself projects to work on so I have something to write about instead of banal blogs such as this one. Sorry guys... I did make a fabulous creamy blue cheese and parmesan polenta served with a roast tomatoe and veg sauce... deelish! Back soon when I actually have something to say. Can Madame burn? She certainly can!

The Sensual World

This has to be one of the most perfect songs in the world. Not only is the song amazing, the video clip is breathtaking. Kate Bush-artistic genius. To view it, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJc64xncBt4 Mmh, yes, Then I'd taken the kiss of seedcake back from his mouth Going deep South, go down, mmh, yes, Took six big wheels and rolled our bodies Off of Howth Head and into the flesh, mmh, yes, He said I was a flower of the mountain, yes, But now I've powers o'er a woman's body, yes. Stepping out of the page into the sensual world. Stepping out... To where the water and the earth caress And the down of a peach says mmh, yes, Do I look for those millionaires Like a Machiavellian girl would When I could wear a sunset? mmh, yes, And how we'd wished to live in the sensual world You don't need words--just one kiss, then another. Stepping out of the page into the sensual world Stepping out, off the page, into the sensual world. And then our arrows of desire rewrite the speech, mmh, yes, And then he whispered would I, mmh, yes, Be safe, mmh, yes, from mountain flowers? And at first with the charm around him, mmh, yes, He loosened it so if it slipped between my breasts He'd rescue it, mmh, yes, And his spark took life in my hand and, mmh, yes, I said, mmh, yes, But not yet, mmh, yes, Mmh, yes.