Friday, August 24, 2007

this one goes out to the one[s] i love. this one goes out to the one[s] i'll [leave] behind

there is a woman running along the footpath. she is quite old, matronly and is not the type to be running. i am driving towards her, and look, scan quickly, to see what has caused her to run. she is running towards me, on the other side of the road to me.

i'll pull over and help her, i think. as soon as i see what it is that she is running to. or who.
she runs up to an elderly man who is standing on the nature strip, whippper snipper resting against his leg. she stands in front of him, plants her feet wide, and holds out her arms, wide too. then she clasps his face in her hands and kisses him in a most flamboyant manner.
this catches at my heart and i drive past, everything registered in a second. it makes me teary.


this is my 300th post on this blog. this is also the last post i do before we leave for our trip.

i've tried to do the following before. it was a yuletide yuyu, where i didn't actually list everyone cause i ran out of time on christmas eve, especially after making some dessert without a food processor and having to do everything by hand, in addition to erecting a full-size tramp-o-line.
i want to pay tribute to all the people who have caught at my heart, like the lady and man this morning around the corner, standing on the street. for i am sentimental about many bloggers who i have met over the last few years. some have come and gone, some are constants in my blogging life. i know people will understand me when i say it is special. and real. i'm not going to justify things regarding "in real life" and that blogging is somehow less than a real-life friendship.

people who feel it's real, know it's real. for real.

if i was more au-fait with songs and their titles, i would dedicate a song to the people who have touched me in some way through blogging.
songs aren't really my thing. i know what i like, but i can't remember them, and don't know who sang them, or what they're called. books are my thing, and food. and hospitality.
so what i'll do is have you over, give you a book, or cook you something, give you a drink. or maybe everything at once.

ladies and gentlemen, and small green frogs. it's been an honour.

for dear, sweet alabama, she of the gossamer words and fairy-wing imagery: we would find that meadow of sweet summer grass and run across it to then fall giggling under the gigantic spread of a huge shady oak. there would be little daisies in the grass and you would make a chain for your hair, and i would marvel at your youth and beauty.
then i would open the picnic basket. there would be real, linen napkins, and cupcakes with lavender icing, beautiful crystal goblets to drink home-made lemonade out of, and a posy of tea-roses that i'd cut in my garden for you to take home with you. strawberries and dainty sandwiches, light chocolate eclairs and finally cheese with grapes and sliced pears.
i would give you my copy of wuthering heights, with the pencil underlinings still in it from my year 12.
i've known aleks long-time. he's a vegetarian so i would cook him some beautiful eggplant no-meat moussaka. and give him a book of charlie brown comic strips. i'd tell him i'm lucy and he's charlie, but that he's loveable and a hero, and a far nicer character than lucy.

another outspoken female (AOF)
i'm hoping AOF would join me for a full-on repast of beautiful mushroom soup, not cream of, but in a gorgeous clear consomme, and not button mushrooms but wonderful, spindly little shitakke numbers. this would be followed by some sort of roast, like even a boar - and we could make like obelix and eat a whole haunch each. no, really, i'm not even sure if AOF is a big meat-eater - we are in we do chew our food together - but somehow, i just fancy she would like this. we would follow this with lovely espresso and some gorgeous handmade chocolates that look like you can't even eat them.
i'd also give AOF one of my favourite books - doris brett's eating the underworld. not sure why, it just feels right.

audrey apple
we would have a big icecream each, as many flavours as we wanted, and stand there, licking them, and laughing as drips coursed down towards our fingers. i'd tell audrey off for biting off the end of her cone, and then go and get her another serviette.

davyjonesoverlocker - ELAINE
elaine is a gun scrabble player. she beat me so soundly, that i'm not sure i'd ask her for a game when she came over for dinner. but i'd cook her something lovely - perhaps my very simple schnitter and mash with a salad. we would certainly drink something strong and i'd ask her about her cats, and her knitting and sewing ventures. i'd confess i'm hopeless with a needle, and i'd ask her about other bloggers but she would be discreet.
i would take d-stah to soul mama. and we could look at the ocean and talk about how much has happened since we were last at soulmama. this time, i would secretly hope that she would have a drink with me. but if not, we would have a coffee and i'd watch her open my present - a copy of an autobiography of jane fonda. just for fun.
for fluffy i would make wonton soup using the wonton maker she so very kindly mailed me in the post, i have never forgotten this kindness. this is fluffy. she is so so kind.

groverjonesgroverjones is a sweetheart who pops in very occasionally with a supportive and understanding comment. i'm not sure what i'd feed him, but i think we would drink beer. i would ask him about his badnd history, and tell him about my brother's band history. i would tell him about my fantasy to be in a band, and though it's not a strong or serious one, i think it would be fun as hell.
perhaps we'd eat a whole bunch of marinated, baked chicken wings. with salad. and steamed rice.
oh, yes.

for sherriff i would line up the following:
1. a laphroaig scotch (double) from the distillery in scotland's isle of islay, of which i am proud owner of exactly one square metre of dirt.

2. naguib mahfouz's cairo trilogy (Palace Walk, Palace of Desire, Sugar Street)
3. a plate of my spaghetti marinara

4. the water-method man, by john irving

5. a beer - ASAHI dry.

6. a yusuf ali translation of the quran.

then i would get all luke rheinhart on him and make him roll for his prize. and fate would take care of the rest.

i blogged myself (BEVIS)
for BEVIS i would make a birthday cake in the shape of robin, with green icing and everything, licorice eyes, and piped cream.

BEVIS is a long-time friend, and he is dear to me. we have been through the ins and outs of blogdom and he is constant, sensitive and a true gentleman.
i'm not craig would be sat down at the dining table, given a glass of very fine red wine, either a peppery rochford cabernet blend, and a haunch of lamb cooked with rosemary infused oil.

INC would also be presented with a special-edition, hand-written- self-published release of my bad poetry.
INC is a good guy, and i really like him. he and i are also sharing the moving of house stresses that come with boxes, packing tape, and how to best organise the fucking inventory.

i was lucky enough to be invited to lc's hens night. for LC i would serve fine champagne, perhaps a chandon, and some delicate little hors-d'oeuvres. i would have made them myself from my quaint little retro book which tells how to make anchovy butter, and asparagus rolls. if LC didn't like these morsels of goodness, then i would rustle up a nice salade nicoise, and we'd just keep drinking champagne. she would have brought her wedding album, and i'd show her mine, and then we might go out dancing.

leanne is someone who hasn't posted for years, but we had what i still think is the best exchange i've ever had on here, not discounting some early cotton interactions. she was passionate about poetry, i was stating that prose is the go. it was the only exchange we really ever had. but i still keep checking in on her because she has some mysterious link to gianluca di milano, a favourite and debonair gentleman blogger who has also seemed to disappear into the ether.

magical_mmagical_m has been around since the heady early days, when we used to all be friends and compulsively wrote long and heartfelt posts. where i know i used blogging as a crutch, as a panacea to the ills and excesses of my thesis-ing. i would have m_m around and feed her schnitters as well. maybe i'd have her the same day as elaine. hell, maybe i'd have you all around at the same time, and we would feast like gourmands in roman times, for hours, and all be talking at once. i'd ask m_m about fraser on neighbours, and i'd also ask her about her time on tv. and the ads. and the shows. and everything. we'd probably hold hands and jump up and down screaming when we first saw each other. then drink white wine too quickly, and get all over excited.
like many other people, ms fits is where it all started for me. reading about a three-way in a ufo sucked me into this blogging game like nothing else could. i've already had fits describe her fantasy meal with me somewhere on her blog, i'm sure including a divine castello blue, during early q&a, and it finished with her leaving with benicio del toro (from memory) after we all three had a pash on my front door step.
i wouldn't give fits a book, but would hope secretly that she would bring one for me.
ms fits is one of the few bloggers i've met, and she was loverly. and yes, she does pat your arm.
the lovely miss ro ro is another lady blogger i've met. she and sublime and fluffy and tiny man (who is probably not so tiny any more) came to my place and we tried to have a garden partay with cakes and finger food and champagne. we talked about having a great gatsby party, with everyone suave and glamorous in white, playing croquet and eating cucumber sandwiches, and drinking far too many martinis. it never happened, but i know several people enjoyed the dreaming.
for rowena i would make that party happen. i would make sure the gigi was not present, so she couldn't rub up against rowena and muss her white halter-neck dress. again we would eat dainty something and sweet nothings, and drink champagne, or vodka, or both.

then i would buy rowena's friendship forever by giving her all my hardcore music picture books, like these:

steph is someone who has always been gracious and forgiving. our first meeting, i got in a gang-up situation against her, running with the wolf pack over at fits's i think it was. there were smart-arse comments, but she had the grace to accept my apology and we have been ok ever since. while steph and i don't seem to have much in common, we do in ways that i don't think she knows. but for our night together, i would cook her a chop casserole, with creamy mashed potato, followed by vanilla ice-cream with homemade chocolate self-saucing pudding. we would drink hot milo, and not drink or smoke. we would have a hearty, wholesome fireside chat, toasting our toes like poly flinders. we would wear tracksuit pants with baggy knees, and shapeless jumpers, and possibly beanies. i don't know why, but we would. and she would be ok with it, just to please me. but during the evening she would relax, and feel really comfortable, warm and happy. she would regale me with her stories of mayhem and hilarity and i would marvel at her energy and spirit. she would make me feel old, but then i would probably make her feel young. and it would be all right.

sub. dear sub. i have met sub too. lucky that i am. for sub i would have her around to play lola. i would get out all mum's sheet music and prepare to sit back and be amazed by her ability to play. just like that. she would say she's rusty and maybe try to get out of it, but i would be a bit pushy, and tell her whatever she plays would be lovely. i would feed her slow-cooked shanks in red wine, again with buttery mashed potato, and the most divine, perfectly-cooked green beans just for colour on the plate. but they would taste damn fine. we would drink red wine i guess. but before that we would have drunk white. or voddy martinis. oooh hoo.
for sub i would give her a brand new copy of the australian government style guide. and also maybe an american one too, and british just for comparison's sake. i know she would be interested.

sugar belle
sugar is an old, dear friend. who really never took off. perhaps her time is yet to come. sugar could do with a bit of a detox meal - a healthy salad, no grits, and some herbal tea, no whisky. i would give her a jean-paul gaultier fashion book on corsets.

the krankiboy chronicles
i would only invite kranki as a way of trying to get his friend the wizard over for a meal. sorry kranki, but you know it's true. i would serve the wizard whatever he wanted, and give him whichever book he so desired out of my collection.
for such is the power of the wizard.
i miss the wizard.

i miss gianluca di milano. he hasn't been around for such a long time. i like to fantasise that this person is actually sasha baron cohen, which would explain his absence recently (success of borat, impregnating wife, etc).
i'd cook him a slap-up bbq. i wouldn't dare try to make anything italiano - he seems like a real mama's boy to me, and might be quite critical of my brodo and pasta. of course we would drinks much and get drunks together so he could flirt with me in real life and ask me, again, to marry him. and i would have to rebuff him, again. but it would all be fun. and clokes would be standing at the bbq, being a little sullen.
chai is a sweetheart. i would cook him my famous chicken-ball soup. i think he would like it. i'm not sure if chai drinks but we could have some tea. we would gossip alot actually, and we would chat about having daughters, and all that stuff. i would also like to play a real-life game of scrabble with him.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

dedicated to i'm not craig, as per an earlier request

INC, luckily for you i have found a helpful little notebook in which i wrote all my bad poetry. so you don't need to wait until the late '80s in my currently crawling-like-a-snail retro look through my diaries.

The titles are exactly what I have written in the notebook. I have had a sense of humour forever.


You threw me a glance,
And then another.
Soon the rooms were spinning -
Looks and eye-space colliding.
Yet tentative moods would
Encroach, time always
Dying too soon.
Not enough. Never enough.
Fluttering fantasies flying in
My mind. Warm thoughts and
Groin girding notions.
Fabulous fancies of
You and I.
Splendid loving and cautious* caresses.

* Not sure why I used this word here. Perhaps I meant tentative?

But this one following is the one you really wanted. It is truly Bad Poetry.


Viking-Man, who are you?
Are you a child, fleece for hair?
Forget-me-not eyes and
Huge, Huge feet.
A look slides onto your face.
Pensive eyes, chin in hand,
You look into eternity
Seeking answers for a question
You do not ask.
Go on, I dare you to ask
That question that baroomps* your
Look my way, seriously now.
Fully consider me.
Roll me around your tongue.
Chew on me
(Don't spit me out!)
Suck my juice**
Breathe my perfume
Then take the plunge.
Go on. Swallow me.
For I have you.


* Baroomps???

** !?!

Sorry people. But it is funny.

Even funnier is that this man is now known to quite a few in the RRR and music community. Including a couple of bloggerettes.

so there you are, INC. i believe you owe me One Bad Poem.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

things that happened to me a couple of fridays ago when i did some relief teaching

1. i had to wear a headscarf. i chose to wear it in the most islamic manner possible. for am i not so pious?

2. i had to call in a man for reinforcements, and have two of my grade 3 boys removed. yes, he had a beard and no, he didn't look at me. no wonder, the scarf, the scarf. they work, dear friends. they stop the men from acting upon their baser desires. heck, they stop men from even having baser desires. they probably strike them impotent with one peripheral glance.

did i just write heck?

it's the shadow of the scarf. i can't even swear while i'm writing this post.

3. when they were doing prayers before lunch (it was friday), some boys were headlocking each other and i flapped at them shrieking have some respect for your religion! and had to break up the rumble physically.

4. no one talked to me in the staff room. or should that be scarfroom. they could see right through me. for am i not an infidel?

5. when i arrived and signed in at the office, i said to the women there:

i might need some help with my scarf

she turned around and inspected me. i tried to look pathetic. it wasn't hard.

no, yours is perfect. I'M having a bad scarf day.

[mutual laughter]

6. i went into the ladies bathroom about 6 times to check my scarf. almost every time the knot had slipped around up somewhere near my ear.

7. i look really, really ugly in a scarf.

8. the kids were looking at the photo id i was wearing around my neck.

miss, miss, who's this?

it's me.


that's me without glasses and not wearing a scarf.

silence and incomprehensible looks.

god knows what they were thinking.

9. the only time, the only time, i had a semblance of control over the class was when i read them the rabbits, by john marsden, ILLUSTRATED BY SHAUN TAN. they got it too.

10. taking the kids out for some sport, i lost half of them between the classroom and the basketball court. they didn't turn up for 15 minutes.

11. i couldn't hear properly cause of the scarf. this was not good.

12. while they were mostly shits with no discipline and absolutely no sense of behaving properly in the classroom, they were also just little kids who struggle to learn in a really disrupted environment, and lots were somalis and i figured maybe they had experienced stuff that made school, and sitting on the mat doing tables, a fairly hard thing to do.