PS or Ra! Accidental in-lift rudeness

Check out my "review" of the instore gig to begin the launching of Damn You, Ra. One of these days I'll sit down and write a proper review, like a grown up, just not today. In other news I have developed the exciting skill of accidental in-lift rudeness.

Dear Woman from Level 4 of that building I was in for a bit today,

I am terribly sorry. I did not mean to repeat aloud what you said when you declared 'god damn' into your mobile phone. It came out of my mouth with no warning at all, I think I was wearing a red dress. I did not mean to make the other ten people in the lift laugh with careless abandon so that their access passes bounced and clacked on their little corporate chests. I can assure you that I was secretly writing poetry while they were thinking about money. I might as well mention they were laughing at me and not at you, unknown woman from level 4. You may be consoled that I felt a kind of burning awkwardness and a little bit like an accidental arsehole as I walked across the beige tiles of your lobby. Later that afternoon Aleksandr considered my conundrum, he said that he didn't think you would take it the wrong way, if you were a person with a sense of humour. I have no idea if he will be right, I don't have that kind of information about him yet but I am slowly learning the contents of his ipod and that he likes to wear my hat. I hope this information will assist you.


DS

Holy Fucking Hell

Here's a thing not to do. Don't go running around town getting drunk on a Monday night with young Aleksandr because he might take you to a bar where a jug of snakebite is real cheap and the backpackers from upstairs come down to race crabs. I have the feeling the light shades were covered in hula skirts and most people were wearing shorts. I don't recall an occasion where I have cheered for a small crab with a number painted on its back, lifting my beer glass in chorus with a dense crowd of international men. My crab was beaten by a crab named "Tradesmen Entrance". I suspect that crab belonged to a group of men wearing bike shorts, rubber truncheons and handcuffs.

I ran away in the end, made a break for it up the stairs and back out onto the street. I was surprised to find myself on George St and close to Central Station. I was quite sure that my geography took leave at the same time as my senses and that I was located somewhere brand fucking new. I met up with Spencer on King St in one of those same old pubs where the locals are local and the sausage sandwiches are free. Spencer took his time laughing at me for running away and into the night. I guess next time I see him I'll try and explain that sometimes when I find myself somewhere new I just need to run until I stop.

Damn You, Ra

I kept staring at Rusty from You Am I not for any other reason than he is a man that knows Tim Rogers. Spencer told me to stop it then I realised that Spencer is also a man that knows Tim Rogers, not as well as Rusty but still there you go. Next time I might stare at Spencer. I was jammed into Repressed Records like a sunburnt sardine with Newtown's finest unwashed. Today was the first day in Spencer's album launch juggernaut. It was an instore album launch, Spencer and Mr Hunter worked out that if they continued to sell records at the rate they sold during the instore gig then they would be earning 36 million dollars a month. I double checked their calculations, they are correct but the likelihood of this happening is just about the same as me returning to my international modeling career. If it does come true then Spencer can start paying for my coffee. To help my free coffee dreams come true go and buy the album.


For those people who like information the album is called "Damn You, Ra" by The Holy Soul.


Did I mention that I am on this album?

Oh shit! I am definitely going to listen to this every year.

Bill shock or confusion - They charged me to remove my right hand

Look at the knuckles on my left hand. There's bone under that skin pushing pale against my architecture. What a traitor shadow trading with child's wish for aphasia.

First draft after walking through Central at lunch time with two fans and one man

I could tunnel to America
using sharp facts I want to forget about you
Your Moses hurled me from the mountain
Rained down stones that I swallowed like lead

There's lipstick on my microphone

Dear Australian Tax Office,

Your late processing of my tax refund has prevented me from buying a ticket to see Elvis Costello, please register my extreme disappointment and the inevitable uncomfortable listening that I will have to do outside the Enmore Theatre. Happily the theatre is extremely close to my house, unhappily this is not because of you. You will receive no credit for the proximity of my private residence from the above mentioned venue.

Regards
DS

PS
It is telling that I am frightening people on buses by grinning like a Cheshire cat despite having to stand outside to listen to Elvis Costello, whom I love and will not be persuaded otherwise, not by anybody. You will not receive any credit for my current state of general elation, sincere happiness or abiding love for Declan MacManus who is an actual songwriter and not just a man who wanders about with a guitar case full of a guitar and an empty heart clutching at three achingly average incomplete songs.

Dear Dawn Tan

Your blog handmade love makes me feel happy, every day and one day, when I have twelve more pots of money, I will buy one of your little paintings and hang it on my wall.

The opposite of thorns on a rose

I want to watch somebody die, see that flat-pack end of them. I've seen the crash, click and climb of most things, spider-legged horses breathing out the last of their tree-strength, a new woman slide out of a torn vagina but not that bitter end. You can blame science if you like, both sides now, I want to discover just why we are supposed to operate as the exact opposite of thorns on a rose.

Dear Anastasia Freeman

Your exhibition* is sophisticated and beautiful, successful on many levels but none more than the personal. I was re-enchanted, or at least I was until I walked round the corner and found myself back on Oxford St in the rain but I can't really hold you responsible for that. Thank you for meeting me in a miniature wedding cake of a building that I misremembered as being slightly blue. You slid out all the possibilities hidden within each work of art, at the going down of the sun I will remember them.




* Thaumaturgy - Kudos Gallery - 6 Napier St Paddo - until 12th September

We have liftoff

Who would have thought it would be so difficult to explain exactly what I mean when I say I've invented a Little Richard crash helmet.

Interesting study

Curious admixture of a man, he has the correct ratio of shoulder width to visible chest hair but his nose leaves me with the impression of daintiness. He is altogether a different sort of man, one that might attend Oxford University between the wars.

To be continued...

Microwave is not the same as ultrasound but both will heat blue coloured goo to an acceptable temperature

He said he wanted to put things in my shoes. I was lying face down and he had a good hold of my left heel with his right hand, he massaged his fingers up my heel and across until they were as far underneath an ankle bone as fingers can be. I said "What kind of things? Roller skates, ponies, marmalade sandwiches, dynamite? It's dynamite isn't it? Dynamte!" He scoffed, "Dynamite! Why would anyone put dynamite in shoes?" then told me to lie still and cooperate. I thought about trying to leave because things had shifted from odd and uncomfortable into definitely very painful but he had smeared my left leg with several kinds of goo, first clear, then slightly yellow and finally blue and I thought I might slip over and skid into the doorframe or stain my red dress or something infinitely terrible but as yet unimagined. I tried to ask him what was with the different kinds of goo but every tiny deliberate movement of his freakishly strong arms and fingers sent a shiver of pain so pure and undiluted that I had to switch breathing from autopilot to manual. I endured for as long as I could before calling a halt to proceedings, he said he was just about to finish anyway then he held me down flat while he wiped away the goo with three towels, each one a different shade of blue.

I did not discover what he wants to put in my shoes or why he needs three separate kinds of goo but I am quite determined to find out. I am going to see him again on Thursday.