Tuesday, 30 September 2008

Painting fish

Like a cartoon coyote I put my back against it and pushed with all my might until I had a square of silence.

Monday, 29 September 2008


Superman was walking up and down the hallway with a raw egg in a small white bowl first thing this morning. He said "I've got this egg. Do you sometimes wish your surname was Wow?", I do so I nodded and turned left into the bathroom, Superman continued on his way down the hall, this is unrelated to my party.

At one point late on Saturday night I feared for the lives of everybody. Superman and Spencer had linked arms and were dancing in circles at an alarming velocity, jumping over furniture and narrowly missing Robert and his snare drum. Robert, Madam Squeeze and Boli were cranking out some kind of Freylekh on drum, accordion and clarinet. The Peach Deck was in danger of crashing to the ground killing everybody at once or at least horribly maiming people with large splintery bits of wood that poking right through their middles, that would teach them not to stamp their feet enthusiastically to Gypsy music whilst seated drunkenly on The Peach Deck. The stamping was repeated, the music ranged from the bizarre to the sublime but the deck and I survived.

I have never thrown a party by myself before, there has always been someone, a brother, a housemate or a partner. I anticipated that nobody would come, not just for me. I had planned in my mind how I would walk slowly from one end of The Peach Deck to the other packing away chairs and taking lanterns down from the trees. I would put away the clean glasses and plates and lock the front door. I would shower and turn on my electric blanket. I would wake in the morning diminished. I did not anticipate that every single person would turn up with a bottle under their arm and a smile on their face. I did not anticipate that sitting on a cushion on a milk crate under the curved branch of a mulberry tree I could look in any direction and see someone that I loved.

A party is a wondrous thing where it is appropriate to laugh or sing or dance or jump around for no reason and instead of staring at you weirdly people join in. I drew sharks and aeroplanes on the fridge with Ronita, I danced like pirate with Madam Squeeze, I offered round warm things that were thoughtfully provided by Rita, I showed everyone my library, my bedside table and my brand new chair, I talked and laughed and ran around waving my arms with glee.

I wanted to draw bricks in the gaps between the shoulders of my friends until I was fortress. I wanted to spin slowly in the centre of the deck until everyone I love blurred into lines of colour and it was all I could see. I didn't manage any spinning but I'm not sure that I needed to.

Saturday, 27 September 2008

Rapid Improvulation

Provided that my friends show up and do not leave me sitting with alone with the cat there will be a gathering on The Peach Deck.

Thursday, 25 September 2008

Medicininal Gatorade and Spencer loses his outtakes

I have nothing of interest. Anything interesting was forcibly removed from my body at high speed by all manner of crampings and convulsions. I am almost shiny with absence of interest. Raw, meek and frightened after my ordeal. Any moment now a team of previously invisible holy persons will walk through my walls, wrap me in robes and say I am ready for what lies ahead, this will not be true as I am slightly unsteady on my feet still but I don't suppose they know that. I will of course be surprised at being the chosen one but not a little miffed at being made to vomit and shit all over the place. I see this as an archaic and unnecessary part of the mystical process of which I now belong, historically, as the chosen one.

Spencer popped in this afternoon for a cup of tea which was exceptionally brave of him. I could have been hanging from the rafters ready to vomit and shit all over him the minute he walked in the door considering the last information he had on me was that it was coming out both ends at once. Brave Spencer walked right in through my front door holding aloft a cd and this time it was the rough mix of his new album, not someone who rhymes with Mex Perkins or a band that rhymes with the Trones but Spencer's very own brand new album. It was of course excellent but in my restless listless state I was very disappointed when we got to the end and Spencer promised me outtakes but then could not find them. I am the chosen one and I demand outtakes (and also some assistance with spelling- surely 'outtakes' is incorrect'?).

I am still waiting for the previously invisible holy persons. Sometimes if a person feels raw, meek, frightened and shiny with disinterest the best thing to do is wear silk pyjamas and sit in front of the fire, like Humphrey Bogart.

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Table strangers

I've been holed up in here stinking of shit and vomit. It hasn't been a choice. I've been shitting and vomiting, at the same time. The first time it took me by surprise and I had no choice but to vomit on the floor between my feet. The next time I was ready and brought along a bucket, so it continued through the night and into the next day. Each time I was left shaking, drenched with sweat and stinking worse than I had before until eventually I could sleep in fitful bursts of an hour or so.

I've been waiting on kindness but ended up with strangers. The Peachettes are both on holiday in Queensland and nobody else is anywhere that I can see. I telephoned a few key people just to let the world know that I was having a problem here, they were kind but the hallway is dark here tonight and nobody has phoned to see if I'm still alive.

Before all of this vomiting began I put an ad up on gumtree for a table I want to sell, this evening I've been replying to people who've emailed to enquire about the table telling them I'll get back to them in a few days because I have food poisoning. The emails sent in reply were instantaneous and plentiful so I'm sitting here consoling myself with table strangers, its much worse than nobody at all.

Monday, 22 September 2008

Ahh horrible!

I have just vomited nine times. The salad I made for dinner came back out undigested but transformed into a foul tasting salad soup. I can not convey the depth of my horror, this feels like the worst thing that has ever happened. I was utterly helpless bent over the toilet bowl spraying high volume high speed disgusting vomit into the refulgent toilet bowl. My whole body fell victim to the convulsions.

It is a thorough action, vomiting, everything from my feet to my scalp unwillingly unified in performing the action. Rita, with her morning sickness, is my newest world hero. I am curled in my chair shaking, white and in fear that it will happen again. I feel terrible (dreadful, causing fear and alarm - just in case you needed reminding of the definition).

Shapes for sound

I want to be almost but not quite struck by lightning. I long for the blue of electricity or to be suspended over the deep water. It is the opposite of unimaginable, infinite depth reversing gravity with swelling upward thrusts. There are limitations in action and this was made abundantly clear when they all stared and saw only a small row of rubber-coated paper clips.

I'm not sure what I saw, it was the paper clips, that was the beginning. I saw a blue gradient remarkable yet flat and bent like wire on a cheap desk. It can echo anything, a blue gradient, a row of useful invention or that old arc we all know. I sat bent over the paper clips, arranging and rearranging them until the blue gradient was perfect. I would like to thrust my hands into jars of blue pigment but all I had was the evidence that pigment exists mixed through rubber, attached to wire and bent into the useful shapes of invention.

I wanted my discovery of a blue gradient good as any sky scattered on a cheap office desk to resonate like song butI have no sounds, only the shapes for them
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z.
You can rearrange them if you like.

Sunday, 21 September 2008

Sometimes when a person dresses like a pirate it is only a costume

I'm sitting in Ikea reclining on a sofa placed on a raised platform watching my very own personal parade. They've all shown up, samples from everywhere, every nation, every suburb, every brand of deodorant.

Grizelda and I came here looking for a chair named Jeff to place on the Peach Deck but I am so pleased by my very own personal people parade that I am sat here nodding mildly at the masses. This might be my ideal office. I can imagine myself sat here typing happily, I might periodically relocate to an office desk or a dining table and if I become tired I might nap in the pretend flat.

I like these nowhere spaces, where there are no obligations now. There is room here to think about the weekend and what has transpired. On Friday I was accused of being a lesbian when I told a man named Scrubber that no, I did not want him to exercise his "civic duty to make all women feel loved by making them feel sexy". I was standing in the same rehearsal space that I'd sat in watching Tex Perkins and The Cruel Sea rehearse before going on tour but everything was different. Some people were dressed like pirates but underneath you could smell their suburban skins, their organised kitchens and the spaces where ideas should be. Last time I was staring at Tex Perkins while he howled into the microphone, this time I was telling a man named Scrubber, who was wearing deck shoes, that no, I did not want to feel sexy.

In the bottom of my handbag I have the NYWF anthology, I bought it last night at the launch party, Benito Di Fonzo wrote "At least wait until I'm dead before you call me a cunt (again)" in the front of it and signed his name. Artboy appeared wearing a t-shirt and benito stooped forwards to read the small text on the front of the shirt while I thought this isn't right, this moment is as bad as exploding kittens with the power of thought. . I leant back against a brick wall, as far as I could, until I bruised my shoulder blades, and sipped from my bottle of water.

So I'm sitting in the in between space of Ikea on a mustard yellow chaise longue watching my own personal people parade with a book in the bottom of my handbag, two bruised shoulder blades and twelve kinds of memory. I think I kind of like it here, I might stay.


Yeah, you heard me. You are flat, stupid planet, have been all along.

Thursday, 18 September 2008

Station Lady, Jacket Man and Freddie Mercury Guy

Freddie Mercury Guy is an everywhere man. I'm not sure if its his striking resemblance to Freddie Mercury, the way he suddenly appeared and was everywhere all at once or if its something else entirely. I see him all the time, no matter where I am. He's practically omnipotent. He induces in me such a state of excitement that I have inadvertently invented a "I can see Freddie Mercury Guy dance". Spencer and Superman have developed almost identical responses to my dance, they stand perfectly still and say the word "spaz" slowly and clearly, Spencer, unlike Superman, will sometimes have his hands in his pockets.

Most people I know are well acquainted with Freddie Mercury Guy so I have taken to doing my dance, saying "Its Freddie Mercury Guy" then running away to avoid having to attempt to speak in a rational manner. I suspect that this may eventually prove trying for people other than me.

Tuesday, 16 September 2008


I'm not eating dead saints but I'm walking through like everything is holy. I'm too earnest, we all know that, so I can take a skitter or an occasional low slung arrow but when he simply turned his back and walked away holding his wine glass out like a flare I thought this time Benito Di Fonzo you've gone too far.

I was sipping coffee with Spencer in the back part of the cafe having forgotten that Benito had sent out invitations to some kind of thing happening in the front part of the cafe tonight. I remembered quite suddenly when I ran right into Benito in the narrow hall connecting the back of the cafe to the front. I said hello then kept moving to the counter but on the way back out Benito and I had what would pass for conversation until we were talking about Jon Wah. I suspect that Benito believed I did not care for Jon Wah because I once referred to him as a reprehensible cunt but I don't recall seeing Benito at Jon Wah's funeral where I stood silent in the freezing rain wondering how in the hell a light like that could extinguish itself so completely.

I paused and dropped my head at the thought of Jon Wah and all that his death has done, this is when Benito turned his back and walked away holding out his glass of red wine like a flare. I burst onto the street in a fury matching Spencer's long stride. Spencer turned to me and said "He rates himself" then fell silent again.

I'm not eating dead saints but walking through like everything is holy so please, if you don't mind, just take a little care.

Monday, 15 September 2008

Retardedly exhausted

I'm sketching in hours with cigarettes and phone calls thinking about Gemma on her birthday and wishing I could pop in for a cup of tea with a surprise cake in a white box but Melbourne is nowhere near Sydney, I think this might be a design flaw.

I'm waiting for words or the space that words arrive in. Daily is difficult when you need to make room for words. I was glad this weekend for Superman's company with his easy way of letting me be unfiltered, tired and badly dressed. I was glad last night when Spencer and Madam Squeeze came to visit. We stuffed ourselves with Turkish food and I demonstrated my newly perfected Pirate Chicken Dance and my ability to play a G major scale slowly but just the way Superman taught me to on guitar.

Spencer sometimes talks about the geography of sound but now I'm thinking about the geography of self. We all sat in The Peach stuffing ourselves with Turkish food and listening to records like they were just invented. Superman put on God Gave Rock'n'Roll To You and it was ridiculous but we all knew the words. I sat on the floor with pide half way to my face singing God gave rock'n'roll to you, put it in the soul of everyone. We were all singing and it was good and ridiculous and if scribes were taking notes they would have called it cartography.

I'm retardedly exhausted and happy in a flopsy kind of way. I had a good weekend, those are small words, the answer to a Monday question. They should be bigger or interstellar or revealed in ancient bones because its a way of making maps when you have a good weekend.

Inappropriate finger thoughts!

Headlines! for purposes of remembering.

The Bogatron
Inappropriate finger thoughts
Hank Williams
A small tower of bitterness
Insensible drinking
Pirate chicken dance
A case of weird man pride?
G major scale
Chuck Berry is a knob
God gave rock'n'roll some Turkish food

Friday, 12 September 2008

Spontaneous Polo

Science, as usual, has got it all wrong. There is no need for tunnels or for Switzerland. The key to unlocking god particles is track one rif through all time. I have determined part of the sequence and was close to unlocking the first parallel universe, in which I have a giant bed and a giant bath - with fireplaces, when I was interrupted by a bout of spontaneous polo.

My colleagues held aloft mighty mallets and threw small white balls at police horses, they started running after the police horses but their legs gave out, this is part of the problem, spontaneous polo does not happen as quickly as you might imagine.

Some doctors (scientists by another name) might sometimes inform you that if your poo looks like coffee grounds that you need immediate medical attention, this is of course a lie. The problem is coffee grounds. Coffee grounds create spontaneous polio which quickly leads to bouts of spontaneous polo, this will of course lead to the destruction of the universe.

Monday, 8 September 2008

Guy Mann Dude

I'm trapped in a submarine with a guitarist named Guy Mann Dude, twelve boxes of stale pretzels and five casks of traditional lime cordial. Things could be worse.

Well alright so maybe that's not strictly accurate but there really is a man named Guy Mann Dude.

Thursday, 4 September 2008

Man Flowers and the Great Bubble Population

The Peachettes were watching telly in The Peach when a man on telly won a prize and was awarded a bunch of flowers and a trophy. The Peachettes declared that men should not receive flowers because they are men.

They told me about a man they know who received a dozen long stem red roses from his new girlfriend. The man did not like to receive flowers. The man complained about the flowers and said that she would have better spent the money on tickets to the footy. The Peachettes nodded at the rightness of the man's thinking and wondered aloud about just what the woman was thinking of by sending flowers to a man.

I do not share their views, just in case you were wondering.

Tuesday, 2 September 2008

I would like to live in Sweden where the snow is crisp and even or I subscribed to a t-shirt

I was walking down the street wondering why I thought it was a good idea to have a shandy in two separate glasses, one for beer and one for lemonade, when it occurred to me that I had subscribed to the wrong t-shirt company. I had intended on having a Swedish t-shirt subscription but ended up with an Australian one. I'll alert the embassy at once.

Monday, 1 September 2008


I am beginning to suspect that my doctor is making blood sausages and selling them on the black market. I am beginning to suspect that she is making the sausages using my blood. I'm going to ask for a cut of the profits and also a jelly bean. Doctors are supposed to hand over a jelly bean every time they come anywhere near me with a needle. I made a solemn vow, when I was four, that I would sit still and be jabbed in exchange for a jelly bean. I don't remember breaking my end of the deal. I want my jelly bean.