This is just a blog for thoughts - songs that are speaking to me, pics from where I've been today, or projects on the drawing board. Just a random outlet. An area of free association. Comments welcome - though anon's are discouraged please. Enjoy your stay & come again. Please note: The content of this blog does not represent the views of any organisations to which I belong. disclaimer
the pirate girl
coeval happenings reading: Moab is my Washpot - Stephen Fry listening to:Napalm & Silly Putty - George Carlin travelling/staying in:SA, NSW & Vic - depending when you catch me
The sensation of my wheel actually going over his small body is weighing heavily on me still. The pathetic and unnaturally posed form that met my eyes when I looked up to see what I had felt pass beneath the car. The beat and the breath that still, defiantly, pulsed under my hand when I had poured out of the car to run to see if he was alright. The eyes that stared groggily up at me later on the steel table, asking me wordlessly why I was to kill him for this, as I sobbed with my arms around the mass of blanket and fur and tears.
The Rational versus the Emotional mind.
Such fuss. He was just a cat.
But he was my cat.
And it's not the losing him that disturbs me so much, I'd always said that when he goes it'd be my parents that take it harder than I, it's how it happened. Not simply going to sleep and not waking, as I'd always imagined it, but on a cold metal table with a broken foreleg and half lucid from painkillers. Everyone tells me it's not my fault, and I do truly know that. Mentally at least.
He was old and sick and didn't get out of the way, asleep under my car, I had no way of knowing he was there. His underlying problems, as the vet put it, kept him from moving when the car started and idled, like a younger healthier kitty would have done.
It wasn't my fault. But that doesn't stop me feeling that way.
I wrote in my diary crying like a child in true adult pain.
A child in far too much adult pain: That's how I feel about this whole mess.
And I feel stupid that it's all just for a cat. What a seemingly and theoretically trivial thing to put me in such a dark space for the moment.
I spent the weekend at Ben and Katie's... in a nutshell we occupied ourselves by:
Watching the Old Reynella Christmas Parade (total duration approx. 8mins with only TWO pirates!), demolishing my chocoriffic treasure chest, wearing the candy bracelets from within, going thru the massive collection of Viewmaster slides, having pizza... twice (ewww!), seeing Santa with Katie's niece known only as 'Baby', watching DVDs, looking at pirate tshirts, making some stills of Barbie Porn using their various dolls and Jesus The Angry Gay Pirate (mine, but who now lives in Katie's toybox) and cleaning the house this morning.
Pretty good weekend. Even though called me 'mum' as I took up Baby... I so wasn't dressed as a mum... perhaps a funky one.
Yeah I piked on the Feast Parade Saturday night, and my work dinner Sunday Night. I just wasn't in a hugely socialable mood... aside from catching up with Emma and Lisa - and Eli-za who was our sexy waitress at Billy Baxters... hehehe I teased her alot and waved to her in the kitchen.
And now I'm home and my folks are insane as usual and I haven't heard one positive thing come out of my mother's mouth the whole hour or so I've been here... and they wonder why I've spent the whole weekend away. On the upside I'm back to work tomorrow. This week I'm in Elizabeth... wait whats my point?? We have week-long promo's til christmas which is good cos that means only one set up and pack down in a week.
Aaaaaanyway, I've put up some pics to peruse from the weekend. Enjoy!
Lastnite on the way home from working at Mt Barker, I was taking the scenic route through the Adelaide Hills back to Noarlunga when I hit a bird in my car.
I felt bad enough to turn around and check on it, either hoping it would be okay or dead, as I did not want to have to put it out of its misery.
Sadly, yet relievingly in a sad sort of way, I'm pretty sure I had broken its neck and I don't think it would have even known what had happened.
I picked it up and placed on the side of the road in a vain hope that it was simply unconscious and would awake later with a hangover... I doubt it... but I didn't want it to be squished either way.
I felt bad enough, but both Katie AND my mother took great delight in calling me a murderer and saying that yep it was definately a baby bird I'd killed.
The start of yesterday was nice though, I saw a mother kangaroo and a joey hopping along the side of the road alongside my car for a time before disappearing into the scrub. And I got to ride the 40c horsey ride in the plaza, my red balloon (the ones we give to kids after the sittings) in one hand, the reins in the other.
Once back on my side of the hills, I stopped in at Katie and Ben's and we went out for tea after they gave me my bday present: the Arielle Dombasle CD from my wishlist - but if you've already gotten me that and just haven't given it to me yet, don't stress! You can either keep it as my present to you, OR (and this would be rather nice) you can still give it to me and I'll have one in my car, one by my stereo, and one in my discman.... ahem, yes I still have a discman.
Today, other than the camera's trip to the floor thanks to some clumsy oaf called vicki, hasn't been as eventful. Because we can't take any shots we're just hanging around, taking bookings, and surfing the net... hence the worktime blogging. Later tonite I'm taking my Queensland trainer to the airport, because it's time for her to go, and to pick up the replacement camera so tomorrow we can actually do some work.
There's alot of bitching going on about work in here this afternoon for reasons I shan't go into huge detail about, but I'm occupying myself and trying not to take any notice. I can't bitch about this job, not only because I'm still a relatively new staff member, but because to be quite honest this is the best job I've had.
I won't be the teacher's pet, but I won't be the anihilist either... I want to stay objective. Yeah things could be better, but I've worked in conditions a hell of alot worse than these before.
Today I learnt about the death of a 6ish month old boy that I'd done a shoot with, a week after I took the photos. He died of S.I.D.S His mum came up to me as we packing up.
I recognised her; a pretty girl with long curly hair, one of the few real people that I get to meet everyday, and I remembered her being quite lovely.
We made eye contact and smiled at each other.
Eventually she slowly approached me and thanked me for taking the photos of her son, the boy with the ears on his hood, who was making me work for a smile. She told me that they came out great, that she bought the whole collection, then that he died soon after.
For a moment I was silent. All I could do was to say I'm sorry, and I told her we'll send out all the negatives etc for her to keep if she'd like.
She said yes thankyou.
Her eyes glossing with tiny tears, my hand on her shoulder; she looked so broken, and all I wanted to do was hold her. As though that would help.
I hate seeing anyone in anguish.
Sometimes I'm reminded that despite how much feeling may be behind it, my touch isn't as powerful as I'd like, and I can't work miracles. Sometimes, I just won't be able to make everyone feel better.
Remember how the overrated Teresa Palmer made paid me out for liking the lovely Daniel Radcliffe when we were filming 2:37?
I found this and it made me laugh. Yay I have supporters!
Radcliffe will be/is/was playing Alan Strang in a London production of Equus. I'd see that, not only because I like Schaffer's play, and not only to see Daniel naked (hehehe), but I want him to be able to prove that he can be more than just 'the guy who plays Harry Potter'.
On Friday Night I told him - dizzyingly close to him as I was - that it was my favourite and that everytime he plays it here I love it. He told me/us/everyone that he recorded that track on his laptop, and reflected on how whenever he does songs on his laptop it's like buying a song from the supermarket. I know how he feels.
I've never seen this clip before, it was made by a French director (Hawksley spent some time in France) and though the animation/effects of making the doll appear to be Hawksley singing to the girl could have been better, on the whole its a simple but effective clip.
*sigh* I want to hang him from my mirror and have him sing to me. I play that track full volume in my car quite often.
Hawksley Workman @ Jive Friday Night, November 3rd.
Hawksley is so beautiful. We pulled the couches up close to the stage. And everybody loves Mr Lonely on piano. Well I do anyway. I met him outside The Ed last time they were here. After I hugged Hawksley. Teehee.
Supported by Jude Elliot - cute local Adelaide girl with a nice voice, who has played at/for Feast And Farryl Purkiss -spunky South African boy with a nice accent and pretty cool guitar skills from both himself and his hippy offsider.
Thanks to everyone who came to the Acoustic Night at the Old Bush Inn, Willunga on Thursday to listen to the muzak and/or wish me a happy bday.
Even though I had to work the next day there were many drinks ordered for me - including one from the nice bartender girl as a thankyou for getting up and playing. I did a small set; successfully received even though my guitar became slightly out of tune in transit, but hey we got through it.
I opened with End To Railway Loveletters, Jonathan, Paper Lantern, & Ode To My Balloon.
Lex, Ness and Liza got up and gave me backup vocals to Missy Higgins' Scar, and then had a crack at a few songs on their own.
I think Lex and Liza got a drink too for singing with one of the regulars, though I'm not sure if Ness was rewarded for bashing out Blister In The Sun - to which I clapped madly when appropriate.
Liza, Ness and I tried REM's Everybody Hurts but failed miserably, but the crowd still loved us; we were fresh blood and fresh faces and certainly did not lack enthusiasm.
An looming early start the next day meant that I left around the 11:30pm mark, with some passengers in tow, while Lex and Ness and others hung around well past midnight (even though the night was supposed to finish at 11pm - the guy running it gave up as Lex belted out tune after tune) the crowd and the Inn itself asked to have us back again.
Well, not the Inn itself... it wasn't quite The Shining...
So I'm thinking of hitting the Old Bush Inn again on their next Acoustic Night (better organised and in tune this time) which is on the 16th. One of the organisers/regular instrumentalists (who it turned out is the head of the Hackham West Community Centre with whom I've worked before) said it was good to see some of the younger crowd there in my group getting up and having a go, and playing orginal songs too.
A rather spunky boy (who I later stepped aside to let Ember make a move on) came up to me after my set and said how good I was and I'm rather nice and have a beautiful voice and blah blah blah and various head-swelling stuff that I lapped up and gloated about with 'I just had a spunky boy commend me and now he's staring at me, yep you wish you were me, I know' etc etc.
Last I heard Ember got to take him home... oooOOOOooo good on her. I decided not to move in, especially after my gloating lead her to start checking him out, I figured she's looking, she can have him - though I reminded her that he only wants to know her cos she knows me... which she said goes without saying.
I did, however, attract the attention of a very scary drunk and rude woman sharing the same birthday as me. I tried to make it clear, in a politely cheery funny way that really had more weight behind it than it sounded, that that was all we had a in common, and that her attention and her loud drunken attempts to interact with me were not hugely welcome.
Yep, still got it evidently. And apparently 'spunky-boy' has more than his fair share of mental issues too so yep, I'm still reeling in the crazy crowd. Go me. Meh, attention is attention.
Slightly representing my musical persona though I didn't think it too wise to straight out tell this scary woman to fuck off cos I thought she was creppy - I stuck with the charming approach... even when she did slur out 'ah fuck ya then!'. You never know when someone important waiting to discover me may be listening in the crowd.
What you're looking at here is a chocolate treasure chest made with Cadbury chocolate and filled with choc coins, Cadbury roses, and mixed lollies. Standing guard over the chest protecting the booty until I got home was Captain Kermit, who now hangs in my car.
The lid has been demolished tonight. I finally found the nerve to hack into this piece of art, and now I feel a bit sick.
But damn, that hit the spot yoho.