Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Found on one of the compilations that came with a magazine I used to buy, there is something enormously soothing about this song. I think it's the harp and the slow beat... and no words.
I don't speak to my Dad often. I suppose that makes sense as he's a man of few words. Most of the time he's not keen on talking just for the sake of talking. I really admire that about him. When I do get to speak to him it pleases me. I feel better about the world, other humans and myself and it always reminds me of what kind of person I want to be; one like him.
He's not fussy. He likes to be busy. He enjoys simple things. He doesn't interfere. He's a gentle person. He's quiet and considered. He's smart about most things (and you just don't know until you ask). He doesn't care for gossip. He wants to know you're happy and reminds you that its the most important thing. He's fantastic at deductive reasoning. He likes people and things that are uncomplicated (and don't tell me all humans are complicated, it's humans who make humans complicated). He likes British comedy. I could go on.
I talked to him tonight, so I'm feeling pretty good about things.
Monday, October 31, 2005
I've been listening to a CD that I got for free with a music magazine a couple of years back called 'Raw Soul' and the music is just fantastic. Makes me want to dance like a crazy person. Especially the crazy simultaneous head waggle and arm flailing dance. This song gets played more than any of the others on the CD.
I finally took my film from my Holga camera to be processed and picked them up today. The above is a pretty sketchy result, but there is a reason I chose these flowers today.
There was a message on my answering machine when I got home from work tonight from an old man who sounded so very heartbroken:
"Hello, uh, I just rang to tell you that Joan died yesterday at 4pm and, uh, well, uh, we made, we haven't made the arrangements yet, but we'll let you know when we've finalised them... bye now."
I don't know Joan. I don't know the old man who left the message. I did, however, burst into tears.
These flowers here, they are for Joan.
May she rest in peace.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I love this song. Not only because it was an association I made when I took this photo, but because its energy and the feeling it gives me has never wavered in the years I've been listening to it. It reminds me of going to school. Of the rumpus room in our backyard at Hargrave Street. Of friends. Of pets. Of feeling unencumbered.
In the last fourteen days there has been a few things occur, both by choice and by happenstance that I feel are inextricably linked... or I just like to play connect the dots... and things happening by happenstance can't be inextricably linked I suppose...
Firstly, while browsing the local video store, I decided to hire the first season of Six Feet Under. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but I was feeling like something different. It was a good choice for something different. It made me think about death in completely new ways. About my family in completely new ways.
Secondly, I went grocery shopping and as I wandered the aisles, I found myself passing the same woman in each aisle, weighed down by her basket, phone stuck to her ear in her whole world. In one aisle she stopped just as we passed each other and exclaimed into her phone; "Well, you could be hit by a bus on your way home so just tell me what you want me to make for dinner!" I found that sentence fascinatingly absurd, yet in keeping with where my thought patterns were after watching Six Feet Under.
Thirdly, a conversation I had with a man who came into work. I'm usually not the small talk type but he was waiting and seemed to like talking. How we got onto the subject I'm not sure but he told me about a particularly terrible point in his life where he took a phone call at ten o'clock in the morning. It was his wife, telling him she'd just had a car accident. As soon as he hung up from that phone call, his phone rang again. It was his Mother, his Father had just passed away. As soon as he hung up from that phone call, his phone rang again. It was his employer, telling him there was something urgent he needed to attend to at work. He told me it was such a ground shifting moment and completely changed his perspective on what was important in his life.
Fourthly, on Saturday night I didn't want to go out, I didn't want to see anyone. This is not unusual for me, let's face it. It 's just it was important to me to go to the dinner though. In the car on the way there I started thinking about what I would do if anything happened to my family, particularly Carly, and Mum and Dad. My heart started pounding. I started to cry. It was surreal. I don't cry very much. At all. I started praying for them, in my way. Sending thoughts out to them I guess.
Lastly, Carly had an accident on Sunday morning. She was driving to work and a little old lady did a u-turn in front of her as she drove down Boundary Street. Carly is fine, bruised but fine. So is the lady. Thank God. It scared me so badly when she told me.
I'm not sure what my point was. I guess these things have just been on my mind.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
I've always daydreamed about making a film where the entire soundtrack is the Yo La Tengo album 'I Can Hear the Heart Beating As One'. Some of the songs on the album have always caused my imagination to spontaneously conjure up scenes for my film. 'Damage' in particular. I think it is a sad scene. I see a foggy beach, I feel heartbreak... wait a second, my film sounds cheesy. Anyway, 'I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One' is up there as one of my favourite records ever. I say that about all my favourite records, right?
I love Yo La Tengo. When I listen to them I actually believe I wouldn't mind if they were the only band in the world. I was the happiest I'd been in a while when I got to see them play at The Tivoli in 2003. I was so glad that Decoder Ring supported them. It was a perfect pairing. I was pretty gleeful that night. Full of glee. Yo La Tengo made their sublime noise, were funny and as an encore, asked the audience to shout out requests and obliged readily. Ira made me think of Thurston Moore the way he played his guitar. Georgia was so deadpan, playing her drums and singing (how do they do that? I mean really?). James a bespectacled gentle giant bass player with a fuzz of curly hair. I would have happily stayed at The Tivoli forever that night (on the proviso that Yo La Tengo continued to play of course).
I really don't feel justified complaining about this. I thought if I get it out, it may stay out. I was asked to do a role play at work today. A business consultant has been 'engaged' to help the company and its employees fully realise its/their potential. The role play was specifically in an area where I am lacking : nagging. Perhaps there is a better word for it in the business vernacular, but that is how I would label it.
On completion of the role play I saw the look on Mr. Consultant's face and screwed up my nose in anticipation. I was thinking my tone was too stern, too demanding. Mr. Consultant told me that, in fact, I was too nice. I have been told this before a few weeks ago and it bothered me. I was also told I care too much and that it's not necessary for me to give 100% all the time and worry about things that aren't getting done. 90% is good enough. Let someone else worry.
Too nice? Care too much? 90%? Exactly what kind of universe have I traversed into?
I'm also not sure I like the word 'nice' anymore now either. It's just so... nice.
Other than that one of my most favourite photographers ever, Stefano Giovannini, has just recently added two new journal entries which always include these great little quicktime slideshows of shots he's taken that sometimes relate to the words in his journal. I love his shots of people, because they are people he meets along the way. His approach is so wonderful and his simple way of expressing himself is just great. I love it.
Monday, September 12, 2005
I keep hearing this song whenever I am near a radio and it is the kind of song I admire on a variety of levels:
1. Mr. Banhart is quite an eccentric in the best way possible. I feel very affectionate towards him and his music and method of expression.
2. The lyrics sound like a child wrote them because of their simplicity and sweetness.
I can't think of anymore 'levels' so I'll give you this link to one of the portrait photographers whose work I admire immeasurably and who is also very passionate and politically opinionated and who did something so human and, just, so real to express his feelings and other fellow human beings feelings about the New Orleans situation. Read his words. Watch the images by clicking through them or click on 'view as slideshow'.
I wish I could think in those terms and be that way, doing things that are so simple and yet so meaningful and... just... real.
I'm feeling a bit Meryl-Streep-in-The-Hours right now. My life is soooo trivial. Yet it is up to me to make it less so.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
I heard this song on the way to work on Monday morning and, because of the reminder that it existed, I have been playing it a little too repetitively every chance I get since. I love the combination of Gordon Gano's awesome and jaunty guitar work (how does he play like that?) and PJ's bursting, urgent singing. I especially love the part where the little guitar break comes in and PJ starts whooping. Such a fun song to sing along too...
I received a DVD from my parents this week of a 1983 home video from when we lived in Doha, Qatar. The idea was that I would take it on as a project, edit it into something fun to watch, which is very exciting to me. It turns out it is in the wrong format for me to save it to my computer and manipulate it. Luckily, as I watched it, I learnt to make screen captures.
There are great little snippets of Carly and I crammed inbetween the 3rd International Dubai Rally, a really interesting interview with a Muslim woman and some live Arabic music. One snippet is of us jumping on big squares of bubble wrap in the living room (such simple entertainment that still entertains to this day). Carly is happily jumping up and down quietly apart from the popping of her bubble wrap. I, however, am squealing, jumping, twirling, writhing. Mum has to tell me to be quiet a number of times because of my ridiculous shrieking and squealing. All in what appears to be delirious overexcitement.
There is a great tour of the flat we lived in by Dad, complete with Mum getting caught by the camera numerous times. Each time she is caught, she slinks into the next available doorway in shy reticence with a cheeky grin. Dad's commentary is mundane almost. Endearingly Dad-like: "there's the bathroom... here's the door to the air conditioner unit... that's Erin's hanging thingys..." I love it.
I watched myself be curiously uncooperative and moody. I ignore requests to show the folks at home my bedroom or to wave and say hello. I'm only interested in showing off a picture I'd created with my 'printer' for our cousin, Michelle, or giggling and running away.
Carly is the picture of a calm and intelligent child. She gently talks us through the pictures and artists on the cover and back page of her school yearbook and flips through the pages for the camera. She carefully walks us through a poster she's made of all the colours of the textas she owns. She tells the camera of the different types of Toblerone that you can't get in Australia.
Watching it brought back some extremely vivid memories and humbled me of how extremely fortunate we were in experiencing what we did when we lived over there. The variety of nationalities of the students at the schools we attended was commonplace to us. The travel around the world, which I assumed all children experienced until I learnt that most of my classmates when I returned to Adelaide had not ventured outside the state of South Australia, was such an amazing privilege.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Di organised for a bunch of us to give blood on Thursday night. It has been years (six in fact, which is remiss of me and I felt ashamed when I worked that out) since I have donated. The little travelling Red Cross caravan was a hive of activity. Such amazing organisation, in a slightly flustered style, and we were all in and out in what felt like no time. My favourite thing was the nurses. Like buzzy busy bees. I don't think I've ever been called "dahlin'" so much in all my life. I also don't think I stopped smiling the whole time.
I joined Di, Brad, Sarah and Ben for trivia afterwards. They are veterans apparently... at losing. They come last every time. I think they were hoping I might be of some assistance. As Brad put it in his blog which made me giggle like a fool:
"We may have come last at Trivia at the Red Brick Hotel last night by the slimmest margin in our team's history. I think we got about 47, with the second last team getting 55. Our brilliant performance was due in no small part to the presence of Erin 'T-Bone' Gebert whose brilliance, especially in the music department was unsurpassed."
The new nickname: T-Bone. Do you know what? It's growing on me, I dig it. And with a nickname like T-Bone I think I am justified in using the expression 'I dig it'.
So, the story behind T-Bone? Trivia was a new experience for me. I had little idea of what was actually going on and could barely interpret the questions via the muffled microphone work of the beloved 'Bomber'. At one point I'm sure he said "moofarloorangadungeee." Or something. In other words, I didn't understand, though that was a source of amusement in itself. After one of the rounds he said something which caused my friends to start telling me to "Go downstairs! You get to spin the wheel, you get to spin!!!" So, after some protesting on my behalf (not unlike a child that doesn't want to go home "NO!, I don't want to!"), I start walking downstairs as they got up and walked to a part of the balcony where they could see the action. I was thinking that there would be a few more people from other teams doing the spinning too but no, just me. So amidst tables of fellow trivia buffs, 'Bomber' is talking gibberish in the microphone, people are milling around, I'm kind of loitering wondering what is happening and looking up at the grinning faces of my friends.
Bomber: (gesturing for me to come closer) "Spin the wheel, give it a goood spin!"
T-Bone: (looking from Bomber to the balcony) "Okay..."
So I spin the wheel, admittedly not a very goood spin and I stare at what it says on the tab it stopped at and have no idea what the prize is. Luckily...
Bomber: "Aww, c'mon! What kind of spin was that? A GOOOD spin, spin again!"
T-Bone: (silent, glances at balcony, grabs the wheel and spins with enough gusto to think the wheel was going to topple over and crush her in a crazy pub trivia accident)
I think this time something came up saying "FIVE POINTS OR FIVE TICKETS".
I kept staring at it thinking to myself "...WHAT?!" I looked up at the balcony again and they are gesturing for me to spin again, so I look at 'Bomber', he's writing something on a piece of paper, so I look back up at them and they are still telling me to spin again when a lady at the table in front of the wheel shouts at me; "TAKE THE TICKETS LUV, TAKE THE TICKETS!!" and I turn back to Bomber and say "they want me to spin again..." so he gives me the nod, I spin again and it comes up "T-BONE." Di says she shouted out "BUT SHE'S VEGETARIAN!" I think 'Bomber' may have heard because he started writing out the prize and says, "Aww, I think they're all vegetarians!" I just laughed, said thanks for the prize and walked back upstairs to sit down. Surreal. Brad then decided, I guess to commemorate the occasion in which the team came last with my assistance, that it might be appropriate to call me T-Bone from now on.
Oh, and luckily Bomber said we didn't have to have T-Bone.
He said we could have anything we like.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Penny, Angie, Lois and Robin August 2005
"...and the only mystery is in what you couldn't decide or remember clearly"
Dave Longstreth IS a genius. Dirty Projectors is his band. His songs. His words. His sweetly melancholy vocalisings. I say it too often but it is so true, I am a filthy music junkie and I can't quit my habit. I discovered Dirty Projectors via it won’t f#$*ing kill you'. If someone recommends something so highly I can't help but check it out for myself (plus if you check out the link the photograph on the left under the work of art of the guitarist lit only by projector light is the kind of photograph that I aspire to).
A friend of my boss came into work on Tuesday. He went upstairs and left his son, about seven or eight, downstairs with we ladies. His son had a box, and that box was chirping.
So, of course, for the duration of the visit I did no work. I also didn't care that I did no work. I sat with the son next to the box and talked about the chicks with him. They'd just bought them at the Pet Superstore down the road. He had named them already. They were all named after the mothers in their family; Penny, Lois, Angie and Robin. We watched them quietly together and giggled at them all clamboring over each other. He was a little red-headed boy with the kind of freckles that little red-headed boys have. He explained to me animatedly that he went to pick one of the chicks up when they were in the car and it started pecking at a prominent freckle on his thumb knuckle. He lowered his hand into the box to show me. Sure enough the chick started to peck at it. We decided it thought it was food. He told me they were going to take them home and then go and get materials to build a chicken coop. Though for the first little while they plan to keep them in the laundry so they are warm. I told him that if they were mine I'd probably want them to sleep in my room. He said that would be cool except for their pooh. We kept watching them and petting them and laughing at their interactions with each other. Those chicks were so adorable. He let me take photos.
I'll never get to see them again.
He'll get to grow up with them.
I love that.
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
I always gravitate towards songs that have a sense of urgency about them, a great momentum. A feeling that they are rushing forward so fast they could fall apart at any moment. 'Rebellion (Lies)" by The Arcade Fire is one of those. The singer has one of those strangely sweet and childlike voices. Their songs have such a great mood to them. Probably why I like them so much.
I'm in a quandry about the book I am reading at the moment; "Mao's Last Dancer" by Li Cunxin. I don't want to let go of it, though it is having trouble maintaining my full attention. I find myself in the middle of a page thinking about what things I need to do first at work tomorrow, not actually taking in the words as my eyes scan across them. So I go back and start reading from where I remember fading out.
I really thought I was enjoying the story. I think I really like the guy telling it. I just can't stay into it and it bugs me that I can't work out why. How do you decide whether to abandon a book or not? I have a backlog of books waiting - begging to be read. Yet I'm too far into it to stop now...
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Fern Street, March 2001
I am in love with Antony. His voice is the most ethereal, wonderful, melancholy yet full of hope voice I have heard. Unbelievably expressive. It's indescribable. I love that. I am completely stuck on his latest album 'I Am A Bird Now'. That and Dirty Projectors 'Slaves' Graves & Ballads'.
My hours changed this week. I now work 9 to 5 (changed from 8 to 4.30). I was weirding out on Monday morning because on top of the change in work hours, my sleep hours appear to have changed during the last ten days as well. I wake, completely wake, in the wee hours with no chance of doing the whole check the clock - 'yay, two more hours to sleeeeep!' - roll over - back to sleep - thing. I am completely awake. So I'm finding I have a couple of hours to fill before heading off to work. I guess that's why I'm writing this now.
The last few mornings I've filled by taking my usual walk to Cleveland Point and, when I'm ready for work, turning on the computer, checking my email, checking out my flickr contacts and scanning some of my polaroid and instax photos onto my computer. Scanners are cool.
I was telling a friend about this 'spare time in the morning' phenomona and she suggested I find a hobby to fill it. This may be it. I am also thinking of making photo collage postcards out of my photos now that I have this scanner /printer (which was an early Christmas/birthday/Christmas/birthday gift from my parents, bless them). I'll keep you posted... get it... POSTed, as in POSTcard. Yeah, never said I was funny in the mornings.
In mentioning the change in working hours, it is with increasing irritation that I find '9 to 5' permeating my thoughts every morning without fail while in the shower. Yep, the Dolly Parton song from that kooky little movie starring the most fabulous Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda and Dolly Parton. The worse part is that I know very few words of it...
Sunday, August 21, 2005
I have developed quite a habit recently. Late at night when I can't sleep.
I like to make a cup of tea.
In my pajamas with my deliciously warm blue 'Grover' (or 'Cookie Monster' or any blue Muppet) jumper made for me by Carly. I stand quietly listening to the kettle boil. Under the dull, warm oven light. I pop a tea bag in my only cup and saucer set which was a gift from a beautiful friend. And I have a cup of tea. And I think.
Whenever I have a cup of tea there are a few things I can't avoid thinking about. The best thing about this is that all the things that I can't avoid thinking about when I have a cup of tea are either funny or family oriented. Which is partly why, I believe, I can curl back into bed and doze off 'til morning.
I think of my Dad. He drinks tea. All kinds of tea. Lots of tea. Rarely is the tiny table next to his recliner chair or his computer desk at home devoid of his teapot and cup. Rarely is the air never filled with Dad calling out, "you guys want a cup of tea?".
I think of my Grandma Gebert. You would think that there was no other room in that old house other than the kitchen. It is where we all gather and end up staying. It was as though we orbited the kettle. It would be boiled many, many times and boxes of different types of tea passed around and chosen. It is where Grandpa sat in his old wooden and blue leather chair in the prime spot of the kitchen. His chair was opposite where Grandma would sit on a red stool next to the kitchen sink and oversee everything. Where we grandkids (and I'm sure some adults) would wait for the moment Grandma opened up a jar of Chico Babies or Kool Mints or Mint Leaves and offered them to us. Or when she would get a Collins Street Bakery cake tin out of the cupboard and hug the tin as she took off the lid to reveal her delicious Anzac biscuits or a homemade fruitcake. Better still her going into the cupboard in the sleep-out and revealing a box of her home made chocolates.
I think of my Grandma and Grandpa Birch. Always tea, coffee and biscuits or bun or cake. The difference here was that - now - I'm allowed to make the tea or coffee for everybody. An incident of any kind at Grandma and Grandpa's place was never lived down. At a Christmas dinner when I was little I knocked over a container. The container was holding beetroot in all its juicy glory. Don't think for a minute that it doesn't still come up when I visit. The incident that nearly had me banned from making coffee or tea for the family? I was making coffee for my aunt and uncle and cousin. Quite happily finding my way around Grandma's little kitchen. My cousin has sugar in his coffee. So I look around the shelves remembering that little yellow Tupperware container with the little flippy lid she used for the sugar. There it is! I grab it and, as requested, scoop two heaped teaspoons of sugar into his coffee. I pop the little yellow container back on the shelf and hand out the drinks. My cousin takes a big mouthful and without moving the mug from his lips looks up at me with a look of "umm...". He puts the mug on the table, runs outside and spits it out. Meanwhile, everyone is asking him what's wrong, including me and he says,"It tastes disgusting!" My uncle picks up the mug, sniffs it, takes a sip and states "It's got salt instead of sugar!" So, of course they all start laughing at my poor cousin and me and Grandma starts shouting "What did you put in his coffee? Where did you get the sugar from?" So I point out the little yellow container to which Grandma replies by opening the pantry and pointing to a shelf with the exact same little yellow container sitting on it, "THAT'S the sugar!!! You put SALT in his coffee!!" By that time, uncle, aunt and cousin are laughing their heads off and I am quite naturally fending off their teasing. To this day, if I ever make them coffee or tea, there tend to be little gibes like "one sugar thanks... that's SUGAR, not SALT." Chuckle, chuckle.
I think of the wonderful people of England. They are forever having cups of tea. Just thinking about having a cup of tea my brain says "cuppa tea, love?" in a thick Londoner accent. I love that.
I think of French and Saunders. They do a hilarious parody of an apparently existential, depressing Swedish film by Ingmar Bergman which I haven't seen but would love to in order to make comparisons, and in part of it Dawn utters with frustration at Jennifer:
"Listen! I am trying to cope with the presence of God and the universal human experience and I haven't even had a cup of tea yet!"
Always makes me giggle.
Time for a cup of tea now.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Does Darren really only have two albums and an ep and a couple of singles that we can wrap our ears around? It seems that way... The song 'Record Store' is so great. I don't know why but it makes me think of when the gang used to make regular Saturday or Sunday trips to Big Star together. I miss those days.
The man who owned the business next door to my work died last Thursday. It's a crazy thing. You know, how you never really talk to some people and take for granted that they are always around? We always said hello to each other and skirted anything real in our conversations. He'd ask questions and poke fun at my boss, I'd laugh and ask him how business was. It was all very cordial and, to me, quite superficial. I'm not a natural conversationalist at the best of times. I'd rather let someone else talk and simply listen.
Even when he was diagnosed with Cancer it was the same. I would ask him what the latest was and he would tell me, very matter of factly, point by point. I wasn't sure how to respond. I mean what do you say, "oh, um... that's great." or be inappropriately sympathetic and condescending "aww, I'm so sad for you."? (I honestly didn't know what to say.) I didn't know whether he was tired of people asking or really wanted to share about it. I asked because I cared, though, after this, I don't think I have a good way of showing that, of letting go and just caring out loud I guess. He had three major operations and was on his back for months. The Cancer was in remission. Then, it turns out, it made its way from his spine to his lungs and then to his brain.
During all this time his wife was in and out of the office. She would drive him in most days. Always keeping her head down, never really saying hello or acknowledging our presence. I know, she was going through a rough time. She would come in to our office to drop off the rent cheque in the last few months, always in and out so fast. I always wanted to know more about her. Even just her name.
When he died, we found out from their storeman, affectionately known as 'Mullet', her name and address and we organised some flowers and a donation to the Cancer Council. To our surprise, she brought in a card, just as quickly, in and out, as when she brought in the rent cheques, and we girls gathered over each others shoulders to read it. It was a 'Thank You' card and in the middle it read "A warm note of thanks to say people like you help make the world brighter by the nice things you do." She had written that the flowers and our thoughts would not be forgotten. Maybe this isn't so surprising. To me it seemed monumentally selfless and sweet. She never spoke to any of us and we've never spoken to her.
Random thoughts from a random mind.
Monday, May 30, 2005
I had to take a photo of this photo of Carly and I when we were kids that Mum and Dad had on the wall in Darwin. I want to feel as happy as I look in that photo, I want to be little Erin again and not think about things too much, just enjoy things for what they are. I'm working on it.
My mum bought me the best of Bill Withers for $13 when I was in Darwin. I cannot believe this is the first time I've heard of him. He's amazing, a soothing funky soulful voice and beautiful songs. The music is amazing too, I think I might even actually go so far as to say the production is awesome even though I don't think I quite understand production... it just sounds so fantastic!
I forget to laugh sometimes. I really love comedy and seeing the funny side of things. Sometimes I can probably be inappropriately silly. Sometimes, I can be far too serious.
I found something that was part of a tape we used to have when I was growing up of 'The Best of Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In' which was a crazy 70's variety show that was silly and political and just plain funny. Goldie Hawn started out on Laugh-In, Richard Nixon was even on Laugh-In saying "Sock it to me?" I would watch that tape endlessly, guffawing at the introductions to the news, to the guest stars trying not to crack up when in a sketch with the likes of Ruth Buzzie and my all time favourite - Lily Tomlin. Here is what I found.
Look that up in your Funk and Wagnall!
Monday, May 23, 2005
"all these poses, oh, how can you blame me? life is a game and true love is a trophy, and you said 'watch my head about it'"
officially been awake for 48 hours. got a window seat on the the plane ride home only to find i was on the wrong side of the plane to witness the however many thousand feet above ground sunrise. glared, sweetly jealous, at the sleeping passengers not noticing the glorious view out of their window. 'the life aquatic with steve zissou' (with bill murray, owen wilson, cate blanchett and the gorgeous and fabulous anjelica houston) was the movie but couldn't bear watching it on the teeny tiny screen with tinny sound so rocked out to pj harvey while the guy in the seat next to me peacefully snoozed with face and body curled in rest towards me. thought about staying on the plane in the dark staring out into the black and beautifully moonlit beyond for eternity. thought of all the wonderful things that darwin gave to me that settle in my heart and my head and my soul. the wonderful old and truly loved but some lost friends that perch in my hollow heart with their wonderful smiles and hugs and laughter and voices and wondered if this whirring limbo suited my temperament best. unlocked my front door at 7am back out the door at 7.40am to work and the whirr of the stale familiarity and pushing, pulling, prodding, restless here and now.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Ahhh, this song. It's the crude guitar playing where the fingers are getting in the way of the notes being played and the off kilter singing that slays me with this song. The words are beautiful and bittersweet. I'm in love with this band right now.
I've been very quiet lately. In many, many ways. I'm not sure I've ever been good at communication and I do prefer to bottle rather than unload. I know it is frustrating my family. Perhaps my friends too.
The one place I haven't been quiet in is my photography. I've been screaming loud and loving it. So, if anyone ever wonders what Erin is up to, visit me at flickr. I've met some cool 'flickr friends' and I find it very interesting to learn about people from all over the world through their photography. It's a rad little community.
What might have made me write today and end my 'word hiatus' is that I got a surreal surprise tonight when I checked all my favourites on flickr.
drp has linked me from his page.
This is something he does everyday, a new link each day, and I have made some 'flickr friends' through checking out previous links he's had. So this to me is quite a compliment. He is inspiring and a real human being, honest, witty and a warts and all type guy. He permeates the endless realm of flickr leaving compliments and encouragement as he goes.
I'm really amazed that I'm getting this kind of compliment and encouragement from someone who is, what it boils down to, a total stranger. Kind of blown away really.
I'm very excited. I have received a package containing not one, not two, but three video tapes from my darling parents. What is on these video tapes? FRENCH & SAUNDERS EPISODES!
This is all very trivial information.
The photo above is messy to look at, I know.
It's why I like it.
Monday, April 25, 2005
My new infatuation: Wilco.
Their albums and songs have slowly crept their way into my psyche and set up camp. I have liked Wilco for some time. Since their very urgent and great song "Outtasite (Outta Mind)" came out nearly ten years ago (which they also have a version of which sounds incredibly close to the Sesame Street theme). They are the kind of band that I've warmed to slowly, song by song. I always thought they were a little 'uncool' ("Hello?" "Pot?" "Is that the Kettle?" "You're black!"). Maybe because they are a little bit country, but hey, I've come to terms with my country leanings... I like Emmylou Harris. I like Gillian Welch. I like Neil Young. Even when I thought I never listened to their records much I couldn't bear to sell them. I'm glad I didn't. I can't get enough of them now.
I was checking out their website and found this great little piece of art that looks like a moving Rorschach Test:
fireworks by deborah johnson
On a tangent: a new photoblog I found that kicks serious butt:
and coming close to being my favourite photoblog:
Young Japanese Commuters in Currents of Keitai Culture
My actual favourite photoblog at the moment:
Coney Island II
Hmmm, photoblogs? The real infatuation?
Sunday, April 17, 2005
This song just came on as I uploaded this image and I decided it was exactly the song for how I was feeling after my fun-road-trip-with-Danielle-(who-is-up-from-Sydney)-to-Woodgate-for-Wayne-and-Sharyn's-wedding-Mel-moving-into-her-new-house-wandering-the-beach-and-talking-to-strangers-walking-their-dogs-because-that's-the-kind-of-place-that-Woodgate-is-with-friendly-people-and-gigantic-red-kangaroos-that-actually-do-hop-around-the-streets weekend. This is a gorgeous song with vocals by Neneh Cherry. She conveys great emotion with her stunning voice. Aaaah.
Three things I loved about the weekend:
1. The Actual Wedding
While none of us could quite hear what the Celebrant or Wayne and Sharyn were saying due to the sound of the waves, it was beautiful to watch them interact (as it is with any couple getting married), and to see all the guests, men and women dressed to the nines, with no shoes on (except for Phil, Wayne's Dad, who said to me "30 years I've been coming to this beach and this is the first time I've worn shoes!" Phil is a gorgeous and warm and rare gentleman. I guess most Grandpa's/Dad's are though!) and the men with their trousers rolled up. Sharyn's Dad laughed at me and said to me as I stumbled onto the beach in my shoes trying to work out if others were taking theirs off, "if those idiots on Home and Away can walk on the beach in high heels I'm sure you can!" I promptly took them off.
2. Having Bubble Blowing Competitions with the Kids
There were a few little kids, as well as Wayne and Sharyn's gorgeous and lovely girls at the wedding and they were all adorable and just so fun. The game of the day was "How Much Farther Than Your Bubbles Will My Bubbles Go?". It was so unpredictably windy all day that no one ever won. That didn't matter though, we stood on the balcony of Wayne's Mum's old house and blew bubbles for half of the afternoon. It never got old.
3. Talking to Strangers (and Strangers Dog's) on the Beach
After the wedding Danielle, Jason, Fee and I headed down to the beach and wandered until sunset, collecting shells and soaking up the general loveliness of being away from it all in such a beautiful place after our friends wedding. So many lovely old couples were out walking their dogs on the beach. They all said 'hello' in such a different way than I'm used to when I'm walking in the suburbs. There was a warmth and sincerity to it. I loved saying hello to them all. Some kids were out with their Grandma and they were laughing and playing along the shoreline as Grandma dragged a net along. I was so curious that I said hello and said "do you mind if I ask what you are doing?" Grandma looked me in the eye, laughed and threw her head back lifting up the net: "these are dead fish heads in this net. When you drag them along the shoreline, worms can taste them and they come to the surface and if you are quick you can grab them and pull them up for bait!" "Cool! Do you catch many?" I asked. "NO!!" She laughed and looked at the kids laughing too. "It's the adventure of it, the thrill of the hunt!" The kids nodded. I love Grandmas. There was also an encounter with a gorgeously overzealous and fat chihuahua that bounded over towards us with one of those happy doggy smiles on its face (mouth wide open, tongue hanging out the side) and said hello to us all. As soon as I bent down to say hello (making appropriate "well, hello Mr Puppy aren't you just the cutest woogee goo goo come here for some loving" type conversation to get his attention) he was set for a cuddle and scratch and lick and "YAY A NEW FRIEND!" type behaviour (on my behalf as well as his). He then ran back to his owner (a lovely smiley lady who was letting her dog do all the talking) with that "hey, look they said 'hello' they wanna be my friend check it out" look and as soon as he got to her feet he spun and ran straight back for a second helping of love.
I really admire the resolute happiness of dogs.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
I bought a fridge magnet for my friends who are getting married this Saturday. They don't want gifts... is a fridge magnet inside a very small card a gift? Here is what the fridge magnet says:
"this is my wish for you:
on difficult days,
when sadness intrudes,
to follow the clouds,
to kiss your lips,
to warm your heart,
when spirits sag,
for your eyes to see,
to brighten your being,
so that you can believe,
for when you doubt,
to know yourself,
to accept the truth,
to complete your life.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
I love Rufus Wainwright. I was in a Rufus mood today without knowing it. As soon as this song came on while I was walking I was immediately soothed. He writes beautiful songs and words and he has a fantastic wavering milk and honey voice that I adore.
Walking is so much more attractive with my new toys: camera and mp3 playing walkman. My three drugs of choice going hand in hand (walking/photography/music). Now when I go walking I am happy thinking and singing along and stopping if there is a photo to be taken. So great to walk the streets being intravenously fed through my ears with sweet, sweet music.
Tonight I picked up my guitar after a long period of wondering whether I should sell it. I used to be passionate about it. The reason I picked it up was I heard 'Manchild' by Eels while I was walking and decided I wanted to be able to play and sing it. So that's what I've been working on tonight. Nearly there. Might cheat and Google some tab for it though.
The other thing I've been working on is my Ab Fab obsession. I put on Series 4 while I tidied up, dusted and vacuumed the lounge room. I love every single episode of every series of Ab Fab and I think Jennifer Saunders is a very funny and silly person; most admirable traits. She is a delight to watch and to laugh at.
Here is something I found recently that really touched me: Operation Lion Heart.
Monday, April 04, 2005
An oldie but a goodie. 'Beetlebum' will never get old or boring to me. I love songs like that. Like old friends. Maybe you don't see them for a while, but when you do, it's like it was yesterday. I adore singing along to this song. Trying to hit Damon's high notes. I still have no idea what he is singing about. I love the guitar too.
Here's a couple of things I've been looking at recently and thought were pretty cute/rad/interesting...
Sunday, April 03, 2005
A switch has been activated in my mind. All I can think about is where I'll be able to take photos next. I've made a list of upcoming events and opportunities. I am very happy.
I've fallen in love with this song:
Oxygen by Willy Mason
I want to be better than oxygen,
so you can breathe when you're drowning and weak in the knees.
I want to speak louder than Ritalin,
for all the children who think that they've got a disease.
I want to be cooler than TV,
for all the kids that are wondering what they're going to be.
We can be stronger than bombs
if we're singing along and you know that you really believe.
We can be richer than industry
as long as we know that there's things that we don't really need.
We can speak louder than ignorance
cos we speak in silence every time our eyes meet.*
On and on and on it goes,
the world it just keeps spinning.
Until I'm dizzy,
time to breathe,
so close my eyes and start again.
I want to see through all the lies of society,
to the reality,
happiness is at stake.
I want to hold up my head with dignity,
proud of a life where to give means more than to take.
I want to live beyond the modern mentality,
where paper is all that you're really taught to create.
Do you remember the forgotten America,
justice, equality, freedom to every race.
Just need to get past all the lies and hypocrisy,
make-up and hair to the truth behind every face.
Then look around to all the people you see,
how many of them are happy and free?
I know it sounds like a dream
but it's the only thing that can get me to sleep at night.
I know it's hard to believe but it's easy to see
that something here isn't right.
I know the future looks dark
but it's there that the kids of today must carry the light.
On and on and on it goes,
the world it just keeps on spinning.
Until I'm dizzy,
time to breathe,
so close my eyes and start again.
If I'm afraid to catch a dream,
I weave you baskets and I float them down the river stream.
Each one I weave with words I speak,
to carry love to your relief.
*typing those words made me think of something that happened today:
I was sitting down in the Myer Centre watching people and drinking some bubble tea. A bright yellow jacket caught my eye, it was a tall man with salt and pepper hair and big blue eyes selling 'The Big Issue'. I watched him as he saw the girls in The Body Shop to change some money and had a chat with them. As he came out, he paused at the doorway, looking around as he straightened up things in his bag. As I was watching him his gaze slowly found me and we smiled at each other. I wanted to buy a copy so I kept smiling and sat up straight (meaning 'Are you selling?'). He lifted his eyebrows (meaning 'do you want to buy a copy?'), I widened my smile (meaning 'absolutely!') and reached for my wallet as he grinned and walked over. He slid a copy of 'The Big Issue' onto my table, I slid the money towards him. I love that the transaction was almost completed sans spoken words. All done with our eyes and body language.
I'd like to communicate like that all the time.
I wish I'd taken his photo.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
I love Mull Historical Society. As I understand it, it is actually one man, Colin MacIntyre. There is something just so great about the songs. Sometimes they border on 'woah, okay, not necessary to have that many things going on at once'. His sweet words and voice always save it though. The man has a talent for melody. As does Badly Drawn Boy's Damon Gough. Now that man is made out of melodies. I think he keeps them in his beanies. Where was I? I love Mull Historical Society. A lot.
I finally did something today that I've wanted to do for some time now. I visited Balmoral Cemetery at sunset with my camera. I used to drive past it all the time and say in my head 'that looks so old and beautiful, I must go have a look one day.' Today was that day.
I got there just as the sun started to go down. There was no one else around. Just the sounds of cars passing by. The cemetery is so old and in quite a state of disrepair and has, sadly, suffered some vandalism. It has a sad look of abandonment about it. I read the headstones as I walked around. The sentiments on the headstones were simple. One of my favourites was 'BEAUTIFUL WIFE, STERLING MOTHER'. How Aussie is that. I love it. I found a large rectangular headstone with small simple writing marking the site of a young boy of 8 who had died on my birthdate in 1925. I don't know why it meant something to me but it did. A lot of headstones had fallen and cracked.
There were stone crosses broken in half. Angel monuments that had lost their wings or arms. A lot of the sites had poseys of fake flowers laid on them. There were layers of leaves and twigs and dead flowers littering the graves. Subsidence had caused some of the concrete coverings to sink. I kept looking around hoping to see someone else there. No one. When I went to leave there was a lady jogging up the hill on the centre path with her labrador. I wish I was quick enough to get a shot of that. It was surreal.
I found out (thank you Google) that there is a group of people known as the 'Friends of Balmoral Cemetery' who work to preserve the cemetery and educate people of the history.
I'm not sure how up to date the website is.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
I invested in Beck's new album 'Guero' last week and I've barely stopped listening to it. 'Go It Alone' is a nicely groovy piece of work and it has been stuck in my head and it is playing again right now. Handclaps are great.
I took my nervous, excited, anxious sister to the airport early this morning to get her on her flight to Auckland, New Zealand. She'll be there for a couple of weeks, including her birthday, and will be - with any luck - having the time of her life. Bless her, she hasn't had a holiday in years. I think she's been working six days a week for about seven years straight. A holiday is required. The trip has further significance. A man is in the picture. Could he be the one? One thing that would make me the happiest is to see Carly happy. Send out the good vibes. She's riding the wave...
It also turned out her flight was delayed two hours out of Dubai. So what do you do in an airport to whittle the time away a little faster? Buy expensive yet not-quite-right tasting coffee (speaking from experience)? Window shop in duty free? Buy a trashy magazine so you can do the puzzles? All quite legitimate airport pastimes I guess. What was our choice? People watching at the Arrivals Gate! So we silently greeted a couple of flights from Tokyo and one from LA, almost crying a number of times. It always seemed to be when the older mothers and daughters saw each other and got teary, or when kids saw their mum or dad come through the doors and got sooooo excited. We were blubbing. It was fantastic.
Heather Powazek Champ... another woman I admire.Happy Easter.
Monday, March 21, 2005
I borrowed 'Hot Fuss' by the Killers. I didn't like their song 'Somebody Told Me' when I heard it. I gave the record a listen anyway. Then another listen. Then another. Now I can't stop listening to it. When I read the title 'Glamorous Indie Rock & Roll' I immediately thought of Sebadoh's spazzed out song 'Just Gimme Indie Rock' that opens up their record 'Rockin' the Forest'. I like this Killers' song because it says 'it's indie rock and roll for me... it's all I need.' Let's face it, I'm an indie rock girl from way back. Though, I still love my Dusty Springfield and ABBA.
The End of Poverty : a great article I've recently read that I've been wanting to read for some time and now it exists.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
This song is so lovely and it is totally under my skin. Electronic-ey, dub-ey with a great acoustic guitar intertwined. A beautiful rich voice singing a great refrain that I've had stuck in my head the last few days: 'we don't want to know one thing about evil, we only want to know about love.' It doesn't take much for a song to get under my skin. It's the little things with me. Then I just need to hear it again and again. (Yes, I am a filthy junkie.) It is a remix of a John Martyn song. It's kind of cool and unusual to hear one of his songs like this. He's pretty groovy anyway, but the electronic embellishments compliment it nicely.
This song is on a compilation called Acoustic 2, which is one of three double CD compilations sent to me by my work's supplier of drill bits for Christmas last year. There is some fantastic music on these CD's. I know who chose these CD's for me too. A very cool guy I used to talk to a lot who used to send me photos of him walking in the Lakes District with his chocolate labrador, Archie. I know it was him because the music on these CD's is not your run-of-the-mill mainstream music. I love that about them. The cool guy with the great musical taste and the chocolate labrador named Archie has been working in New York for the last three months. He said he would send me photos. I know he is very busy.
This is officially my favourite place on the internet www.photoblogs.org
Tina Fey... another woman I admire.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Idlewild are an awesome little Scottish band that I adore. I went to see them play in 2003 I think it was (maybe even almost to the month) and they played at the Zoo and it was hot and it was loud and they were just soooo fantastic... and Scottish. Me and accents. This song is the first I heard of theirs and I was immediately a fan based purely on the guitar sound and Roddy's voice and the fact that they say Gertrude Stein's name a million times. It's just a nice turn out that I love all their other songs too. Ooh, I've just checked out their website and they have a new album out!
Today I spent with my sister. It was a day where I was happy to do anything and just be with her. We went looking for clothes and tried things on, we both had lists of things we were looking for. My list included make up and black nail polish so that I can be a rock star on the weekend. Both of which I found. Now to work out how make up works.
We visited her work and drank yummy coffee and laughed with three of the lovely people who work for her there. One has an infectious laugh and is very good at stories. One always has really funky earrings that she says she often tinkers with, adding dangles from one pair to the design of another. The last is a nice boy who I find very cute and sweet who makes my sister laugh and be silly and all this makes her enjoy her job a lot more than she used to.
Back at her place we decided to go wandering aimlessly through the streets of West End. I like West End. Lots to photograph. Gorgeous little old houses with kids playing on the ramshackle verandahs out the front. People riding their bikes with their shopping hanging off the handle bars. A relaxed feeling in the atmosphere, charged now and then by a political stencil on the footpath or on the wall. Here is one that bemused me the most today, I believe it says 'ONLY NAZIS DRINK BOOST JUICE'...
I can hear Patsy from Ab Fab resounding in my head:
"... yes ... but is it ART, Eddie?"
Thursday, March 10, 2005
I am having trouble remembering a time that I haven't known and loved this song. I just checked and the album 'Global A Go-Go' came out in 2001, so maybe since then... damn those details that ruin my romanticisms. The song has a flow and energy that I don't think I will ever tire of. I'm not quite sure what the song is about and I don't want to analyse it, but I'm convinced there is a political element to it. I also really love the background 'hey's' and 'ho's' that scream out during the chorus. It also makes me think very fondly of the morning after my 'Rock Star Pajama Party' when the album was playing while we played Snakes and Ladders on my beautiful custom made picnic blanket and ate pancakes and my walls were covered in alfoil stars and pictures of bands and musicians galore. I've just decided I should try and find out more about Joe Strummer and maybe even get some music by the Clash... I know that I love their song 'Police and Thieves' which is on 'The Royal Tenenbaums' soundtrack.
Things I often daydream about doing:
~ Making a film
(I'm particularly good at this daydream lately ever since playing with Windows Movie Maker for a farewell movie for a work friend and it often occurs when I'm listening to music and a song comes on and I think 'oooh, good song for my film soundtrack... what could be happening in my film while this song is playing...')
~ Owning and running a record store
(a perpetual daydream that sees my record store as a mix between the Big Star I pretty much lived in during some of my most favourite years of my life in Adelaide (which used to be in the same little complex as my bank, so I'd get paid for my part time job, take the money out, buy more music... I was a filthy junkie... and I would love for the very hirsute and laid back fellow who worked there to work for me too) and Championship Vinyl from the film 'High Fidelity' - which also means that Jack Black would work for me - and my friends would always be in there picking the music that is playing...)
~ Owning and running a book shop
(another perpetual daydream that sees itself not unlike the bookshop in 'Black Books' minus Bernard and the obvious disorganisation and general uncleanliness but including the charm of being a pokey little bookshop and also closely modelled on 'Bent Books' in West End now that I've fallen in love with that one)
~ Photographing every person I see
(another daydream that burbles to the surface of my daydream puddle every so often because I LOVE faces and I want to remember them all and see every wonderful thing about them and then maybe I would talk to and meet more people because I would start by asking if I could take their picture and then maybe talk some more and find out about their lives which I also love hearing about, peoples lives)
~ Doing 'front of house' for my sister's Bed and Breakfast
(a daydream that has the most chance of becoming a reality as I believe it is a real dream of hers and I would work for her in a flash and we would meet lots of interesting people and I would get to take their photos and find out about their lives and choose the music that plays in the place and, well, I just think it would be fabulous)
I just watched a film that was a childhood favourite, so much so that my Mum pre-ordered it for my sister and I and sent it down to us from Darwin...'The Dark Crystal'. It brought back such great feelings.
Now I want to have a video night with all my favourite childhood films, like 'Bedknobs and Broomsticks', 'Freaky Friday', 'The Phantom Tollbooth', 'The Sword in the Stone', 'To Be Or Not To Be', 'Mary Poppins'...
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
I think that Ani DiFranco is fabulous. 'Evolve' is just one of what seems like a BILLION great songs of hers. Though it is the one I am singing along to right now. Righteous Babe indeed (check out her website, she visited Burma and Thailand last year with Damien Rice as part of the US Campaign for Burma) and seeing as it is International Women's Day I thought it might be a nice excercise to make a random list of women, alive or dead, that I admire for whatever reason. The women in my family and my friends are an absolute given.
Hillary Rodham Clinton, Kathleen Hanna, Arundhati Roy, Margaret Cho, Jane Goodall, Jennifer Saunders, Dawn French, Kim Deal, Joni Mitchell, Virginia Woolf, Diane Arbus, Nina Simone, Lily Brett, Mother Teresa, Gertrude Stein, Emma Thompson, Janet Frame, Patti Smith, Aung San Suu Kyi, Helen Prejean, Cate Blanchett, Billie Holiday, Lily Tomlin, Germaine Greer... I know there are soooo many more but I can hear the cogs in my brain clunking and whirring in order to think of them so this may have to be an ongoing list.
I watched 'American Splendor' last night (I find it quite difficult to spell 'splendour' without the 'u' but I can get over it... I think...) and it was really good. I don't think I've seen a film quite like it before in the way that it was constructed. I thoroughly enjoyed the texture and light of it immensely, which I guess would have something to do with the cinematographer. Harvey Pekar, the comic writer who the film is based on and features, is so down on things. He admits his outlook is all doom and gloom and I really don't think he ever tried or tries to be positive (though it may just be his disposition and it is actual impossible for him) and yet, to be quite honest, I found that I really liked him. The man made light of his own life in his writing (all illustrations of his stories were done by comic artists) and his writing was real and gritty and sarcastic and witty. Aha! Sarcasm. That's it. Gets me every time. Truly worth a look see and I may even watch it again before I have to return it.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
'shoop shoop, shoop de lang a lang... shoop shoop, shoop de lang a lang...'
I love the Libertines. Their songs sound like they could fall over and out of tune at any moment but they always manage to keep it together. The guitar sounds are so great. The two of them singing all over the place is fantastic too. Did I say that I love them? Pity they broke up and pity they are such rock 'n' roll cliches...
now that was just mean.
I've started reading 'The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying' by Sogyal Rinpoche again. I love this book. Everything about it just clicks with me on a very basic level. It also contains some of my favourite quotes, in particular this one from Albert Einstein:
'A human being is a part of a whole, called by us the "Universe", a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest - a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.'
If only I could make that run in my mind all of the time.
I've hired some movies this afternoon. There was a brief moment where I thought I would go to see 'Ray' at the cinemas because I know nothing about Ray Charles and I love starting with a clean slate, no preconceptions. Then I figured, whether I go to Balmoral ($7.90 for an adult) or to the cinema nearby ($13.00 for an adult) it is still far better value to just hire four weekly movies for $10.00 from the local video store. So that I did and I'm especially pleased with the selections as they are ALL films I've been dying to see for such a long time:
1. 'Three Colours Blue' by Krzysztof Kieslowski (the first in the 'Three Colours' trilogy and starring the beautiful Juliette Binoche)
2. 'Lost in La Mancha' by Terry Gilliam (the making of a film that never actually got made)
3. 'American Splendor' by Robert Pulcini & Shari Springer Berman (based on the life of comic writer Harvey Pekar)
4. 'Gathering Storm' by Richard Loncraine (based on a pivotal time in the life of Winston Churchill)
I'm soooo looking forward to some interesting viewing.
Friday, March 04, 2005
"No one in the world ever gets what they want and that is beautiful...
Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful..."
...from 'Don't Let's Start' by They Might Be Giants. I love those lines.
I recently witnessed the fantastic documentary on They Might Be Giants ('GIGANTIC - A Tale of Two Johns') and I'm just so pleased all over again that they exist. As people, as a band and as the type of people and band they are.
Play some They Might Be Giants every now and then and the evils of the world seem to disappear for a while.
Good shall prevail.
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Lou Barlow is a man and artist I have admired for some years now. Through all his projects, Sebadoh, Sentridoh, Folk Implosion and now simply Lou Barlow. The words he uses, his gorgeous voice and his lo-fi sensibilities. His new album Emoh was recorded at home (which most of his recordings are) and is understatedly beautiful. The last song on the album is called 'The Ballad of Daykitty' and it is kind of like a really sweet kid's song. A little true story of a cat that started showing up at his house and stole his heart (and made his other cat, Hector, very jealous!). There is more to the story but you need to hear the song because it is so sweet and a little funny.
Mr Barlow also has a very cool website, which he updates now and then in his very own handwriting and embellishes the pages with his own artwork and it is just really humble and lovely. He and his wife have just had a baby and he shares their story of the day their little one entered the world on the site. Just sooooo lovely.
So, check it out... www.loobiecore.com
I am feeling a bit bummed tonight as I found out that Sister Helen Prejean, who wrote 'Dead Man Walking', is in Australia at the moment doing a speaking tour in promotion of her new book 'The Death of Innocents - An Eyewitness Account of Wrongful Executions' (www.deathofinnocents.net) and that I missed her talk in Brisbane, which was at City Hall last Friday. I feel really disappointed having missed such a great opportunity to see someone who is a very inspiring human being and human rights campaigner.