laughing at you/the detroit cobras

I want to be in a band that plays songs like The Detroit Cobras. SOOO badly. Listening to them makes me incredibly happy. I know that they are ultimately a covers band but, well, I've never heard the songs they cover before. Particularly fantastic would be playing those punchy little guitar riffs and shouting those backing 'ooh's, sha la la's, cha cha cha's, ahhh's and hey's' into the microphone at the same time as the rest of the band. Definitely Dinnyhayser's style. We always maintained we were a band of backing singers.



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.

a labor more restful/dirty projectors

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.

rebellion (lies)/the arcade fire

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...

spiralling/antony & the johnsons

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...

a cup of tea

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.

record store/darren hanlon

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.

grandma's hands/bill withers

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!

poses/rufus wainwright

~
"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.

fall, fall, fall/razorlight

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.