well, september has been a pretty large month.
princess has learnt to ride a bike. i know, i know, at the age of just nine, it's a little late. but hey, we are a non-man family here, and though i can be fairly manly at times with my shedding hair in the bathroom [okay, so it's long] and the way i pat gigi [at times, very roughly affectionate in a tradesman-type of way], there aint no testosterone here, well not much. and you need testosterone to teach kids to ride bikes, and to kick a footy, or a soccer ball, don't you?
no, i'm bullshitting you.
so i persisted and i was surprised, oh me of little faith. she was simply ready, and tonight we walked around the streets, she on her bmx [it's second-hand. i will get her a malvern star when i am sure she will use it enough] and me being hauled along the footpath by the gigi.
the other big thing is PSP learnt to blow bubblegum bubbles. now, this is big too. riding a two-wheeler and blowing bubbles are coming of age-type things. you only learn how to do them once.
my baby's growing up.
she is more confident, she is walking on air. now she tells me she wants to have singing classes, and asks about 'how do you become famous, mummy?'
note that she still calls me mummy. love that.
the final momentous thing that has happened is that i have been left a pair of white loafers by someone i have never met, and who, even though he is homeless, i refuse to let rent my 'secret life of them' pad in st kilda, because i know he won't respect it. so stop asking me cotton.
but thanks for the thought. i will treasure those shoes. and i will hold you to your bequest.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
time out, she calls
i am taking a little time out, stepping out of blogworld for a while.
here is my heart for all of you... i'll leave it here on the page and will get it back when i return. just so you know that i will come back.
stay safe.
at healing meditation today, bob gave us some poems. i know i am proving myself a hypocrite by going on about poems lately. let's just agree to call me complicated and a mass of contradictions. it's part of my attraction.
this one's from rumi and it speaks to me. this is where i am coming from today and it's a place i want to be at more often. he wrote it in the twelfth century so he was no modern-day guru. which is just as well.
Conventional knowledge is death
to our souls, and it is not really ours.
We must become ignorant
of what we've been taught,
and be, instead, bewildered.
Run from what's profitable and comfortable.
If you drink those liquers you'll spill
the springwater of your real life.
Forget safety.
Live where you fear to live.
Destroy your reputation.
Be notorious.
I have tried planning
long enough. From now on,
I'll be mad.
Monday, September 12, 2005
intellectual melancholy
fuck it. I am sitting here trying to read stuart hall's cultural theory and prepare something for a conference. the heater is going, and my mind is jumping. I cannot concentrate. I am distracted by a million things.
if I was a lady living two hundred years ago, in england say, I would have taken to my bed weeks ago, with the vapours, unable to deal with the assault to my mind. however if I was that lady, I would be doing needle point, not reading newspapers and exposing myself to the heartache of the world. and was the heartache so enormous back then? well I'm sure the vapours ladies wouldn't have worried themselves about them. or maybe I would have been a chamber maid, with nothing to think about other than emptying bedpans and laying out clothes. or a scullery maid who only had to feed the chooks, and work her fingers to the bone all day scrubbing pots.
here are some of the thoughts that are crowding my brain space and leaving nothing for the real-life tasks at hand that I need to do:
[note these things are flicking through my mind maybe only slightly quicker than it takes for you to read the words]
[if you are time poor, or think it's too boring, PLEASE just read the bold bits, for they are the kernels of truth amongst all this rubbish]:
I should vacuum again, there's dog hair everywhere, my period was one day early this month, why is it so cold, america is trying to take over the world and nobody other than terrorists and intellectuals can see it, how expensive would petrol have to get before I just can't afford it, if everyone starts using the public transport in melbourne then they will have to improve it heaps, and when the terrorists attack melbourne, there'll be more people for them to kill if we aren't driving our cars, was that guy with the american accent and the mask in the latest video a real terrorist or is it the americans trying to keep us scared, how would we know anyway if he was an actor, what should I cook for dinner, it doesn't feel like princess' birthday today even though it really is, I guess that's because we celebrated yesterday, I hope she is having a nice day at school, this piece of cheesecake is nice, I'm glad I made the base a bit thicker this time, I should dye my roots before we leave on Friday, how am I going to fit two bikes in the car with the dog, perhaps I should get one of those bike things, gee my baby's going to be horny by Friday considering we didn't get together on the weekend, I must remember to cancel the paper delivery, I bet they fuck it up like they did at easter, and the papers kept arriving, I must ask jane to see if she could pop past to make sure, stuart hall reckoned that the postmodern age, which is now, is really a label that tells us there is only one right way, ie the american way, and that it is euro- or western-centric. of course this would then piss off non-euro or western people, he also said that postmodernism is about "how the world dreams itself to be 'american' " say what????? and this is years ago, so it's been happening under our noses, and the only reason some of us are getting it now is because there are consequences, and then the western propoganda is spinning it to suit their agenda, why can't people see it? why do people think people who talk like this are deluded or conspiracy theorists and therefore not credible? another good quote is this: samuel johnson apparently said that "patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel". think about this, it describes exactly what is happening, with howard being all "australian-values-are-best and people who are different and not aussie mates need to accept this and live by this because this is the best way and fuck anyone who has a different idea even including woman who don't use the word mate, they can't be real aussies" and why ms fits was attacked for hating australia after her post about values, what bullshit, it's the people who love[d] this country and feel [felt] proud of it and us who this sort of thing KILLS, and get this, "also post-nationalism and its accompanying disdain for the nationalist emotions of others, may be the last refuge of the cosmopolitan" [this quote is attributed to Michael Ignatieff, 1994, in Blood and Belonging] I am in the cosmopolitan camp obviously and why are we having this rise of nationalism and how bad is it going to get, and are there going to be race wars, and look at new orleans, how things descended so rapidly into lord of the flies, I think animal farm is a good allegory, how would I write a political allegory now, about what's going on in the world currently, would I use animals? I read that allegory is only necessary for writers who can't write freely, maybe we are going that way, there will be no freedom of speech, with all the new laws that have been suggested, even me writing that I think america and the west is causing so much shit in the world and that I can understand how people feel so oppressed and hopeless that they act in despicable ways, and the academics I have heard speak on the radio, saying the same things, but far far more eloquently, none of us would be allowed to say this sort of thing, without asio then coming knocking, we are moving towards a police state? is that's what's happening? the irony of us and the west supposedly being democracies, and how the politicians tell us the terrorists hate democracy, they hate our way of life, so we are fighting the war against terror to preserve our democracies, but then if democracy is slowly dismantled, and all the principles and VALUES that we hold so dear are removed, then how can we continue to live in a democracy? and some western values can be argued to be fairly disgusting and im- or amoral, how bad would it have to get for me to move to nz? or the countryside here, princess has asked me a couple of times what we would do if a war came here. what would we do? I guess I should do the dishes, no that's just avoiding your work, oh shit there's the dog's bed cover and one of her towels sitting in the washing machine, you should get them out, you can put princess' bathers and towel away, she won't be going to swimming on Friday, I hope the ink cartridges work in my printer, better test them out before I go away. can't do lunch with mum on Wednesday, she'll understand but I'll still go to meditation with her, why is my neck so sore. I feel like a hot bath. I haven't gotten the new weekly yet, must get it later, why can't I just go to bed and read, I'm really enjoying the secret history by donna tartt, but have a feeling I've read it before, or something similar, I guess it will unfold and I'll remember, why is it so hard for me to get a focus for my study, it's not a fucking phd, just keep it simple, why didn't you choose a topic such as the use of the gerund in grade 4s or something like that? because it's boring that's why, and you want to understand the big picture, and big picture work is... well, big work. what is marxism exactly, stuart hall talks about the marxist position, and what is bourgeouis exactly? I can spell it but I'm not sure what it means. should I let the dog in? she'll be wet again, and I'll need to towel her off, but it's sunny outside, she'll be ok, how on earth can I read all I need to, and write 40,000 words by the end of february? I will definitely need an extension, hope the scholarship office understands, I think I'll get the money, I can't keep up with my newspaper clippings, why do I do that? it's like an obsession, once started, I can't stop, princess will bury me and then start going through my stuff and there'll be boxes and boxes of bloody news articles and she'll probably just get rid of them. what's the point? I'll have to make sure I do something with them before I die, that poor man peter, the refugee on the news, a friend of his called up and said that he tried to kill himself on Saturday night, even though they'd urged him not to, I think he's at baxter, the woman was almost crying as she was telling john faine, then there was that other woman who rang in, from belmont, 74 years old, and she WAS crying about geelong losing. well not about them losing but about the reaction it has caused with some people, ie being critical or negative, she was pleading for people to get behind them, support them, that they tried their best, the poor woman, I've been crying a lot lately, at the lion king on Saturday, at princess' school concert a few weeks ago, how embarrassing, I just cry all the time, but it's not from sadness, I don't think. my sister said yesterday she has too, she cries about all the children who die in house fires or cars running off roads into lakes, the house fire, there was a boy from a school I taught at years and years ago, he died last week, but he wasn't a student there when I was there, little 7 year old, followed his granddad back into the house, he was intellectually disabled, and wasn't told to stay outside where he was safe. they found him on his bed. I saw the principal's name in the paper and thought about calling him, and another person I knew who I think still works there, but I haven't called, I won't, but I thought about it. why do we feel better having thought to do something, it's almost as if we have done it, so then we let ourselves off the hook, and don't actually do it, the worse thing is saying "oh I was going to [buy you a present/offer to come over and help you/lend you some money] but I thought you'd be ok." hate that.
oh and I really have to make time for half an hour every day to do the learning exercises with princess that the nice optometrist has given us, we have gotten a little slack, well we are so busy and we've been sick too, but they really are helping, her spelling has improved heaps and it's only been 6 weeks or so, we have to keep on top of it, oh that's right she said she has to type out two stories this afternoon after school, I hope there aren't too many phone calls for her for her birthday, what am I saying, I hope there are, but it's going to mean that we can't fit everything in, at least she's done her homeopathic swish for today, but it would be good for her to do it twice a day, she might want to take her bike to the park, but it's pretty wet and cold, and the dog will need a walk, and oh that's right dad said he would call tonight, do I really want to give him the chance to explain why he couldn't make it to the birthday lunch yesterday and why he called at 1.30pm to say he wasn't coming, why does he always let me down, it bothered me more than princess, and my sister was spitting about it, she was mad and wanted to call him and tell him off, and I said I was trying to workshop to myself the best way to handle it when he did call, and we were standing in the kitchen, and I said do I tell him you're a fucking cunt and a coward or do I pretend it hasn't hurt me, she was silent, I laughed and said I'll go with the second version, I think she was relieved, but it's just not fair, why does my dad always let me down, the cats losing is not enough of an excuse and those beeps on the phone make me wonder whether he was still in sydney and not at barwon heads like he said. if he was at barwon heads he'd be able to have made it. surely. now I'm steamed up again thinking about him. fuck it. and princess' father called yesterday, so that's good, they spoke briefly, I sent him an email today telling him a bit of news, including that my bf and I are planning to move in together next year, so I am waiting for a response, hope there is no response
I think my mind is a little emptier. maybe I can go back to my work.
gold star to anyone who reads this whole thing.
if I was a lady living two hundred years ago, in england say, I would have taken to my bed weeks ago, with the vapours, unable to deal with the assault to my mind. however if I was that lady, I would be doing needle point, not reading newspapers and exposing myself to the heartache of the world. and was the heartache so enormous back then? well I'm sure the vapours ladies wouldn't have worried themselves about them. or maybe I would have been a chamber maid, with nothing to think about other than emptying bedpans and laying out clothes. or a scullery maid who only had to feed the chooks, and work her fingers to the bone all day scrubbing pots.
here are some of the thoughts that are crowding my brain space and leaving nothing for the real-life tasks at hand that I need to do:
[note these things are flicking through my mind maybe only slightly quicker than it takes for you to read the words]
[if you are time poor, or think it's too boring, PLEASE just read the bold bits, for they are the kernels of truth amongst all this rubbish]:
I should vacuum again, there's dog hair everywhere, my period was one day early this month, why is it so cold, america is trying to take over the world and nobody other than terrorists and intellectuals can see it, how expensive would petrol have to get before I just can't afford it, if everyone starts using the public transport in melbourne then they will have to improve it heaps, and when the terrorists attack melbourne, there'll be more people for them to kill if we aren't driving our cars, was that guy with the american accent and the mask in the latest video a real terrorist or is it the americans trying to keep us scared, how would we know anyway if he was an actor, what should I cook for dinner, it doesn't feel like princess' birthday today even though it really is, I guess that's because we celebrated yesterday, I hope she is having a nice day at school, this piece of cheesecake is nice, I'm glad I made the base a bit thicker this time, I should dye my roots before we leave on Friday, how am I going to fit two bikes in the car with the dog, perhaps I should get one of those bike things, gee my baby's going to be horny by Friday considering we didn't get together on the weekend, I must remember to cancel the paper delivery, I bet they fuck it up like they did at easter, and the papers kept arriving, I must ask jane to see if she could pop past to make sure, stuart hall reckoned that the postmodern age, which is now, is really a label that tells us there is only one right way, ie the american way, and that it is euro- or western-centric. of course this would then piss off non-euro or western people, he also said that postmodernism is about "how the world dreams itself to be 'american' " say what????? and this is years ago, so it's been happening under our noses, and the only reason some of us are getting it now is because there are consequences, and then the western propoganda is spinning it to suit their agenda, why can't people see it? why do people think people who talk like this are deluded or conspiracy theorists and therefore not credible? another good quote is this: samuel johnson apparently said that "patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel". think about this, it describes exactly what is happening, with howard being all "australian-values-are-best and people who are different and not aussie mates need to accept this and live by this because this is the best way and fuck anyone who has a different idea even including woman who don't use the word mate, they can't be real aussies" and why ms fits was attacked for hating australia after her post about values, what bullshit, it's the people who love[d] this country and feel [felt] proud of it and us who this sort of thing KILLS, and get this, "also post-nationalism and its accompanying disdain for the nationalist emotions of others, may be the last refuge of the cosmopolitan" [this quote is attributed to Michael Ignatieff, 1994, in Blood and Belonging] I am in the cosmopolitan camp obviously and why are we having this rise of nationalism and how bad is it going to get, and are there going to be race wars, and look at new orleans, how things descended so rapidly into lord of the flies, I think animal farm is a good allegory, how would I write a political allegory now, about what's going on in the world currently, would I use animals? I read that allegory is only necessary for writers who can't write freely, maybe we are going that way, there will be no freedom of speech, with all the new laws that have been suggested, even me writing that I think america and the west is causing so much shit in the world and that I can understand how people feel so oppressed and hopeless that they act in despicable ways, and the academics I have heard speak on the radio, saying the same things, but far far more eloquently, none of us would be allowed to say this sort of thing, without asio then coming knocking, we are moving towards a police state? is that's what's happening? the irony of us and the west supposedly being democracies, and how the politicians tell us the terrorists hate democracy, they hate our way of life, so we are fighting the war against terror to preserve our democracies, but then if democracy is slowly dismantled, and all the principles and VALUES that we hold so dear are removed, then how can we continue to live in a democracy? and some western values can be argued to be fairly disgusting and im- or amoral, how bad would it have to get for me to move to nz? or the countryside here, princess has asked me a couple of times what we would do if a war came here. what would we do? I guess I should do the dishes, no that's just avoiding your work, oh shit there's the dog's bed cover and one of her towels sitting in the washing machine, you should get them out, you can put princess' bathers and towel away, she won't be going to swimming on Friday, I hope the ink cartridges work in my printer, better test them out before I go away. can't do lunch with mum on Wednesday, she'll understand but I'll still go to meditation with her, why is my neck so sore. I feel like a hot bath. I haven't gotten the new weekly yet, must get it later, why can't I just go to bed and read, I'm really enjoying the secret history by donna tartt, but have a feeling I've read it before, or something similar, I guess it will unfold and I'll remember, why is it so hard for me to get a focus for my study, it's not a fucking phd, just keep it simple, why didn't you choose a topic such as the use of the gerund in grade 4s or something like that? because it's boring that's why, and you want to understand the big picture, and big picture work is... well, big work. what is marxism exactly, stuart hall talks about the marxist position, and what is bourgeouis exactly? I can spell it but I'm not sure what it means. should I let the dog in? she'll be wet again, and I'll need to towel her off, but it's sunny outside, she'll be ok, how on earth can I read all I need to, and write 40,000 words by the end of february? I will definitely need an extension, hope the scholarship office understands, I think I'll get the money, I can't keep up with my newspaper clippings, why do I do that? it's like an obsession, once started, I can't stop, princess will bury me and then start going through my stuff and there'll be boxes and boxes of bloody news articles and she'll probably just get rid of them. what's the point? I'll have to make sure I do something with them before I die, that poor man peter, the refugee on the news, a friend of his called up and said that he tried to kill himself on Saturday night, even though they'd urged him not to, I think he's at baxter, the woman was almost crying as she was telling john faine, then there was that other woman who rang in, from belmont, 74 years old, and she WAS crying about geelong losing. well not about them losing but about the reaction it has caused with some people, ie being critical or negative, she was pleading for people to get behind them, support them, that they tried their best, the poor woman, I've been crying a lot lately, at the lion king on Saturday, at princess' school concert a few weeks ago, how embarrassing, I just cry all the time, but it's not from sadness, I don't think. my sister said yesterday she has too, she cries about all the children who die in house fires or cars running off roads into lakes, the house fire, there was a boy from a school I taught at years and years ago, he died last week, but he wasn't a student there when I was there, little 7 year old, followed his granddad back into the house, he was intellectually disabled, and wasn't told to stay outside where he was safe. they found him on his bed. I saw the principal's name in the paper and thought about calling him, and another person I knew who I think still works there, but I haven't called, I won't, but I thought about it. why do we feel better having thought to do something, it's almost as if we have done it, so then we let ourselves off the hook, and don't actually do it, the worse thing is saying "oh I was going to [buy you a present/offer to come over and help you/lend you some money] but I thought you'd be ok." hate that.
oh and I really have to make time for half an hour every day to do the learning exercises with princess that the nice optometrist has given us, we have gotten a little slack, well we are so busy and we've been sick too, but they really are helping, her spelling has improved heaps and it's only been 6 weeks or so, we have to keep on top of it, oh that's right she said she has to type out two stories this afternoon after school, I hope there aren't too many phone calls for her for her birthday, what am I saying, I hope there are, but it's going to mean that we can't fit everything in, at least she's done her homeopathic swish for today, but it would be good for her to do it twice a day, she might want to take her bike to the park, but it's pretty wet and cold, and the dog will need a walk, and oh that's right dad said he would call tonight, do I really want to give him the chance to explain why he couldn't make it to the birthday lunch yesterday and why he called at 1.30pm to say he wasn't coming, why does he always let me down, it bothered me more than princess, and my sister was spitting about it, she was mad and wanted to call him and tell him off, and I said I was trying to workshop to myself the best way to handle it when he did call, and we were standing in the kitchen, and I said do I tell him you're a fucking cunt and a coward or do I pretend it hasn't hurt me, she was silent, I laughed and said I'll go with the second version, I think she was relieved, but it's just not fair, why does my dad always let me down, the cats losing is not enough of an excuse and those beeps on the phone make me wonder whether he was still in sydney and not at barwon heads like he said. if he was at barwon heads he'd be able to have made it. surely. now I'm steamed up again thinking about him. fuck it. and princess' father called yesterday, so that's good, they spoke briefly, I sent him an email today telling him a bit of news, including that my bf and I are planning to move in together next year, so I am waiting for a response, hope there is no response
I think my mind is a little emptier. maybe I can go back to my work.
gold star to anyone who reads this whole thing.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
the passionate shepherd to his love - christopher marlowe sonnet 1598
come live with me and be my love
and we will all the pleasures prove
that valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
woods or steepy mountain yields.
and we will sit upon the rocks
seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
by shallow rivers to whose falls
melodious birds sing madrigals.
and i will make thee beds of roses
and a thousand fragrant posies
a cap of flowers, and a kirtle
embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
a gown made of the finest wool
which from our pretty lambs we pull
fair lined slippers for the cold
with buckles of the purest gold;
a belt of straw and ivy buds
with coral clasps and amber studs
and if these pleasures may thee move
come live with me, and be my love.
the shepherd's swains shall dance and sing
for thy delight each May morning
if these delights thy mind may move
come live with me and be my love.
and we will all the pleasures prove
that valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
woods or steepy mountain yields.
and we will sit upon the rocks
seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
by shallow rivers to whose falls
melodious birds sing madrigals.
and i will make thee beds of roses
and a thousand fragrant posies
a cap of flowers, and a kirtle
embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
a gown made of the finest wool
which from our pretty lambs we pull
fair lined slippers for the cold
with buckles of the purest gold;
a belt of straw and ivy buds
with coral clasps and amber studs
and if these pleasures may thee move
come live with me, and be my love.
the shepherd's swains shall dance and sing
for thy delight each May morning
if these delights thy mind may move
come live with me and be my love.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
what's your 10-20?
breaker, breaker, you copy?
before blogworld there was another universe where the youth of yesteryear could go to congregate and make contact with strangers
it was cb-land
cb-land was peopled by:
truckies
sleazebags
spotty skateboarders
and psycho-freaks
perhaps some of these categories were not mutually exclusive.
one of the catalysts for cb fever was smokey and the bandit. i just have to show you a picture here. this was the best movie. oh we laughed. oh we cheered.
which one is better? in the second one, bo "bandit" darville is doing a peace sign. i'm torn.
this movie was the bomb for kids of my age. it was funny, it was fast and it was fuck-you to authority. the other thing that got it all going was the convoy song, which was the coolest song in those days. all the kids knew all the words, and it was on the radio constantly.
my cousins jack and michael were into cbs and had their own rig. mike was also into skateboards. mike and I are the same age, and coincidentally I was also into skateboarding, having arrived at this interest via another route [see globe boys, 27/7/05].
jack was a couple of years older, he was into cars. and not in the way that most 14-year-olds are into cars; like when they hyperventilate over a spoiler or talk about them endlessly or look at them in magazines. jack didn’t talk much, but he was lucky his dad had a fleet of vintage cars in their huge garage down on the peninsula. so jack grew up tinkering with and tootling in a rolls royce, a bentley, an mg, a napier and a jaguar. jack was a legend in his own time – he once drove my old volkswagen beetle up oliver’s hill from frankston, where the clutch had gone, to their place in mt eliza. with no clutch. he is a man of few words and the only compliment i ever remember receiving from him was that i was the only chick who could drink him under the table. i think it was a compliment.
there are many cousin stories – the petrol bomb in the tunnel underneath the road that crosses from mornington highway to mt eliza; riding a bicyle along the scratchy bottom of their swimming pool, the mad neighbour who got an axe in his head as they played games running past while an adult was chopping wood, my auntie who had a cartoon poster hanging in her kitchen, of a witch-like woman, and underneath was written “FUCK HOUSEWORK” in an olde english-style font. my uncle who seemed a permanent resident on a stool around the corner of the kitchen bench, who sat there drinking his rum, not participating in the maelstrom of children and dogs around him, other to occasionally yell at one of his sons “ it’s fuckinG! Not fuckin’ FUCKING."
he really didn't like it if you dropped the 'g'. he was very scary.
my dad tells a story of uncle james retiring to bed after christmas lunch with a magnum of champagne.
but i digress.
my cb handle was de lotus, which i now know is some bizarre hybrid of a motor vehicle that i obviously concocted. i learnt the lingo, i memorised all the letters – alpha, bravo, charlie etc. i would spend hours on the thing, adjusting the squelch, freaking out when a man’s voice came on, prefering to chat to high-voiced pre-teen boys. i think they were boys.
at this time, wherever we drove in our green holden station wagon, when we saw a truck we would put our arms out the window and do the ‘pull the horn’ thing. it was so sadly exciting when the truck would sound their big belch. i wore Crystal Cylinder surf/skate wear, these really cool thongs called slats [that had a base of straw and the thong bit was covered in velvet] and liked to eat sunny boys. in those days kids wore white zinc on their faces in summer and everyone had board shorts. i was into the beach boys, even though this was the ’70s. Man.
i realise that my addictive personality has embraced blogging much as it did cbing. cb was a brief affair. i wonder about blogging. i am busy, i have a real life. but still, still, i dally and i day dream about posts, i make notes and i keep a file of ideas. tell me this is normal. come on, i have bared my soul. now you know i liked the beach boys and thought a de lotus was a real car.
be kind.
before blogworld there was another universe where the youth of yesteryear could go to congregate and make contact with strangers
it was cb-land
cb-land was peopled by:
truckies
sleazebags
spotty skateboarders
and psycho-freaks
perhaps some of these categories were not mutually exclusive.
one of the catalysts for cb fever was smokey and the bandit. i just have to show you a picture here. this was the best movie. oh we laughed. oh we cheered.
which one is better? in the second one, bo "bandit" darville is doing a peace sign. i'm torn.
this movie was the bomb for kids of my age. it was funny, it was fast and it was fuck-you to authority. the other thing that got it all going was the convoy song, which was the coolest song in those days. all the kids knew all the words, and it was on the radio constantly.
my cousins jack and michael were into cbs and had their own rig. mike was also into skateboards. mike and I are the same age, and coincidentally I was also into skateboarding, having arrived at this interest via another route [see globe boys, 27/7/05].
jack was a couple of years older, he was into cars. and not in the way that most 14-year-olds are into cars; like when they hyperventilate over a spoiler or talk about them endlessly or look at them in magazines. jack didn’t talk much, but he was lucky his dad had a fleet of vintage cars in their huge garage down on the peninsula. so jack grew up tinkering with and tootling in a rolls royce, a bentley, an mg, a napier and a jaguar. jack was a legend in his own time – he once drove my old volkswagen beetle up oliver’s hill from frankston, where the clutch had gone, to their place in mt eliza. with no clutch. he is a man of few words and the only compliment i ever remember receiving from him was that i was the only chick who could drink him under the table. i think it was a compliment.
there are many cousin stories – the petrol bomb in the tunnel underneath the road that crosses from mornington highway to mt eliza; riding a bicyle along the scratchy bottom of their swimming pool, the mad neighbour who got an axe in his head as they played games running past while an adult was chopping wood, my auntie who had a cartoon poster hanging in her kitchen, of a witch-like woman, and underneath was written “FUCK HOUSEWORK” in an olde english-style font. my uncle who seemed a permanent resident on a stool around the corner of the kitchen bench, who sat there drinking his rum, not participating in the maelstrom of children and dogs around him, other to occasionally yell at one of his sons “ it’s fuckinG! Not fuckin’ FUCKING."
he really didn't like it if you dropped the 'g'. he was very scary.
my dad tells a story of uncle james retiring to bed after christmas lunch with a magnum of champagne.
but i digress.
my cb handle was de lotus, which i now know is some bizarre hybrid of a motor vehicle that i obviously concocted. i learnt the lingo, i memorised all the letters – alpha, bravo, charlie etc. i would spend hours on the thing, adjusting the squelch, freaking out when a man’s voice came on, prefering to chat to high-voiced pre-teen boys. i think they were boys.
at this time, wherever we drove in our green holden station wagon, when we saw a truck we would put our arms out the window and do the ‘pull the horn’ thing. it was so sadly exciting when the truck would sound their big belch. i wore Crystal Cylinder surf/skate wear, these really cool thongs called slats [that had a base of straw and the thong bit was covered in velvet] and liked to eat sunny boys. in those days kids wore white zinc on their faces in summer and everyone had board shorts. i was into the beach boys, even though this was the ’70s. Man.
i realise that my addictive personality has embraced blogging much as it did cbing. cb was a brief affair. i wonder about blogging. i am busy, i have a real life. but still, still, i dally and i day dream about posts, i make notes and i keep a file of ideas. tell me this is normal. come on, i have bared my soul. now you know i liked the beach boys and thought a de lotus was a real car.
be kind.
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