Wednesday, 24 December 2008

Last Sunday in Sydney

I slept in my loft in the afternoon. After baking cookies. It was warm. Hot. Still. At 6pm. And light as if only mid afternoon. I could see over the rooftops from the loft windows over the balcony. From my bed. I read there until dinner time in the warmth. With breeze coming in through the window and a doona half thrown over me. Soft pillows. Such a lazy Sunday. So perfect.
Dad and I ordered nepalese and sat on the couch with the house doors open, watching spicks and specks. 
I saw a photo of Verity in London at the ferris wheel. It looked happy and not too gray. I had envy. But then, I was in my lounge eating curry, in the heat, watching spicks and specks. With the doors open.

Saturday, 20 December 2008

Tom Waits

I don't know about you but I can't listen to any of the music popularly available at the moment. The Indie uprising has me backtracking through my parent-instilled love of old music that they played growing up. I'll listen to anything from The Beatles to Sade and Tom Waits in an hour. And I'd rather spend my afternoons listening to Johnny Cash than the Presets. The problem with this is; how are we going to musically influence our own children?  Have all the giants in musical production come and gone before us? Will we have nothing to showcase for our own generation (s)?
If someone throws me a band that doesn't sound like a bunch of kids crying behind their hands whilst screaming into a microphone and gyrating in order to look like the second coming of Ian Curtis, I will stop listening to Fleetwood Mac on repeat.

Saturday, 13 December 2008

Scary stuff

Well, I've been reading over my old posts and I have to say it's fairly embarrassing.
Which is probably why I haven't touched this for so long.
But - given that I'm about to "embark on a new adventure" as my dad has been saying, I should probably start putting some words down again.

I'm off to London. Although anyone wasting their time reading this would probably know me, and therefore, that.
Anyway - I'm pretty f***ing excited. However, I'm having a thought:

I have to be honest here - I'm getting nervous about where I'll be living.
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for living in the dodgy end of town, where trannies and hookers hang out outside my boudoir and know my name. That doesn't scare me.
On the other hand, muggings and murders co-existing on my street oversteps a limit to the bohemian life I've always wanted to lead.

The issue here - everything I've ever been super-afraid of...has tended to happen to me.
Perhaps this shouldn't be looked at negatively - maybe I've subconsciously put myself in situations where I know my fears will be challenged. I guess that supposes a sort of bravery on my part.
Or stupidity.

I can't watch crime tv shows. They make me envisage my own self as a victim in various CSI Miami situations. Please don't let this be another fear that comes true.

But, if something worthy of a csi episode does occur - I can't complain about life so far. It's been pretty sweet.