It's better to have loved and lost... (AM)

You may be wondering how a girl that has professed so strongly and deeply her love for Prince has said nothing of his passing, but the fact is that until now I haven't really been able to bring myself to.

When I learned Bowie had died I actually couldn't compute it straightaway, I mean a bit of Googling and one whole minute or so to process it was all I needed really but it was so shocking I couldn't immediately put it together. With Prince it was different, I got the news and I knew what it meant. I guess the Bowie death put such things in perspective and I just knew knew that Prince was dead. Or perhaps it was because I'd been awake since 5am and I can only assume that early wake up was a result of my body or soul registering a disturbance in the universe. Either way, I knew it was true and yet I couldn't believe it. I felt very, very upset.

When K called a couple of days later to make sure I hadn't slit my wrists while listening to Purple Rain I told her I was fine. I was of course. As I said, what is there to say or feel about the death of a person I didn't know and whose death would not impact my life in any way? Except that I could never see him again perform, or hear a new song or look forward to those things, or just know he was alive and awesome. But my life wouldn't change in anyway. And so, what is all the sadness about?

I guess it's just the death of a genius, the most fulfilling songwriter and performer for me is pretty devastating.

Seeing Prince live was pretty life defining. In those hours I really learnt how good things good be. I mean obviously I've had other awesome times in my life, life-defining times, but in those Prince shows all the feeling, all the best things were distilled. It's pretty rare that you come across a perfect thing. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Prince live...

Anyway, writing about the death of awesome people is a real downer, so let's just say that Prince lived is awesome and that he died so young is very sad.

Remember the time (PM)

I just googled 'blur dancing' and this is what I got.

Not my first preference but oh well. 

I like how the black bit kind of looks like a K.

Remember the time (AM)

Did you guys watch Michael Jackson's Journey from Motown to Off the Wall last night? Catchy title, right? (Seriously Spike Lee, you can do better.) I know we've all said this before and we'll say it again, but shiiiiit, MJ was so cool.

Like, I know we all know he could dance. But shit, you guys that guy could really dance! And watching people dance well is one of my favourite things in the world! And I know we all know he wrote these awesome songs, but seriously, you guys, 70s and 80s MJ is so good. Why he gotta go all crazy and shit. Life is can be so cruel. So let's remember the happier times.

In other news, I'm writing this at Prahran Library and there is a wifi network somewhere around me called Blur. Cool.

2016: reflections (AM)

I know that February seems  too early for reflections but January was pretty intense and  I feel it really deserves some reflection before we move on to enjoy the awesome year that 2016 is bound to be.

2015 ended fine, Christmas went for days but was pleasant and largely lazy and warm and all the good stuff. And 2016 began normally enough, I was in the countryside ringing in the new year with Blizzie and my babies and their babies and some friends of theirs and it was all lovely. Days passed, I went back to work, I quit my job and then hours after that happy moment, on the train home from work I got a message from a friend. 

I was so shocked. I guess it was not knowing he was sick. And he was so, so great. 

David Bowie has always been a great favourite of Miss Soft Crab and I feel like we need to take a moment to remember his excellence. The British legend, who died at 69 after a battle with cancer. 

I actually could not believe my ears when I heard on the radio three days later about Alan Rickman. The British legend, who died at 69 after a battle with cancer. Alan Rickman was so great. When I was little I used to watch this film my mum liked called Truly, Madly, Deeply. It was a romance in which Alan Rickman played a ghost. It was great. But why pretend that the most important part he played for me is anything other than Snape? Shit gets pretty real at the end of Harry Potter and Snape's role and their relationship, well it's pretty...moving (excuse me, I have something in my eye).

I couldn't stop thinking about it when Rickman died. He was a really great actor. I like him a lot. 

They say celebrity deaths happen in threes. But in this case it's just three deaths of old, great, codgers, because a couple of weeks after Alan Rickman, it was time for my parents' cat, Aphrodite. 

She would have been almost 19, we got her when I was around 17 or 18, she used to sleep on my bed and was so sweet. But then I moved out and she became a bitch (possibly unrelated). You had about 12 good seconds of patting her before she'd lash out with her claws but she was still sweet. Doing all that cat stuff like rubbing against your legs (when she wanted something), sleeping in the sun, deserting you. I loved her, but she died sleeping in some bushes as all cats should. 

January, you were not without your delights, but you, unlike others, we're not gone too soon. 2016 onwards and upwards. 

Is nothing sacred!?!?! (AM)

Hurtin'

I don't look at Facebook very often. I'd like to say it's only once a week, but in reality it's probably every two days, it just feels comparatively infrequent and my view is probably distorted. I stopped looking because it was so pointless and there was always links to depressing news items about how effed the world is or some post about some dumb shit from a person I don't much care for. Yesterday I looked though, and lucky too because my aunt had sent me a video of a tiny Spider-man-child and I also had an invite to a party. Oh it is the party of a one-year-old, not the kind with booze, but it's still social. So, there I was thinking how lucky it was I'd checked Facebook, scrolling down to see what else I'd missed when I saw, to my horror, a link to the new Point Break trailer. WHAT!?!?! I know! Who even knew there was new Point Break?! Maybe everyone knows, I am certainly no barometer of popular culture, but seriously, WTF?!

When I Googled this fucking schmozzle I was greeted by this article title: Point Break remake gets first trailer as fans of the original wonder why this is happening. I couldn't have put it better myself.

Obviously I watched the trailer. It went for 2:55 mins. At 1:22 I had already felt: UGH; Hahahahahaha how stupid; NO ONE CALLS YOU BODHI YOU ARE NOT BODHI!

The next 1:33 I just sat staring wondering why the eff this is happening. The new Point Break looks like heaps more action and heaps more stupid and I don't understand why they couldn't just make that movie and give it a different title and different names to the Bodhi and Johnny Utah characters and we could all peacefully continue living our lives. Why, for the love of God, WHY?!

This is probably just like that time I got upset about the new Footlose which, of course, because it was shit I never really had to think about after I first heard about it because no one ever spoke of it again. It is likely that is what will happen here. Some comedian called Max Silvestri tweeted "I love the movie Point Break but I've always wondered, "Would this be better if the leads had no charisma?" I'll find out this Christmas!" HAHA!

It's as if movie executives like to embrace challenge so hard they cast uncharismatic actors in stupid films while trampling all over what people in their 30s hold dear to their heart. Look, I like a professional challenge as much as the next person, but these guys are messing with lives.

See! This is why I don't look at Facebook, too many reminders of all that is wrong with the world.

The five stages of grief (AM)

 
Yesterday I was doing some house painting. You know the kind of work, something that requires some attention but does leave a lot of your brain free to think about things. It can be quite enjoyable. I had my iPod on shuffle, it's better, I think, than just listening to an album when you are doing this kind of work cause it gives you more direction for your brain journey. Like, I wondered about why I find the song by Biggie, 'Big booty hos' quite offensive, while NWA's 'She swallowed it' barely offends me at all. I guess it depends what you grow up with, right? I thought about how seeing Prince live was not life changing, but in many ways it was kind of life defining. I thought about how I can't believe I'm going to get to see Blur at the Big Day Out. About how it was such a long-time dream. About how I would do anything to be up the front see Damon right there. About how it was too good to be true.

And then, maybe an hour later I got this message from K.

I knew instantly what it meant. I hadn't known anything and when I saw the message I knew Blur had cancelled the BDO shows. Of course I googled it right away and it was just one of those times when being right sucks the most.

And then, well then I spent the rest of the day on the Kubler-Ross journey.

First, denial. I could not fucking believe it. Even though I knew as soon as I saw K's text that it was happening, I could not fucking believe it.

Then anger. Fuck you BDO organisers for "shifting goalposts and [creating] challenging conditions" and fuck you Blur for cancelling. Fuck you all. (I love you Blur. I love you.)

I pretty much skipped bargaining because I'm not an idiot and I know I can't do anything to change things. 

Then depression.

Finally, acceptance. A depressed kind of acceptance. I guess it's possible that I'm not over the depression. I guess grief wasn't processed in a day.

I know how you feel, Damon. I know how you feel

Message in a book (AM)

I give books as presents quite often. And pretty much always to kids. Because kids have so much shit already. And books really are the gift that keep on giving, especially for little kids who like to read books over and over and over. Oh sure, at the time of gift giving/receipt books are the gift that a kid couldn't give a shit about because there are all the shiny gifts they've just received to play with, but trust me books really are keepers.

You know who else like to give books to kids? Really old people like great aunts and great grandmothers. I sure never had any great grandparents. There were a couple of great aunts around, one on my mum's side who, according to family legend*, used to make her husband eat dinner outside and another on my dad's side who, according to family legend*, once gave my dad a ball of silver foil as some kind of cruel joke of a present. So you can bet I never got presents from those crazy old ladies. I'm not complaining, I didn't need presents, I'm just saying that's not how I know what old ladies give there great grand kids/nieces, I know because the books they give end up in op shops. And then they end up at my house. 

For some time now a great favourite if Baby's has been a Walt Disney Peter Pan book and every time I open it I read the inscription.

Great great (!) aunt Cassie bought the book for Leigh inscribed it and then later realised she spelled the name wrong. Shit. Shit. That is always what I thought happened but now as I write this and look at the inscription I realise that isn't what happened at all. Leigh must have corrected it later. Whatever happened I can't help but feel a bit sad. Like G.G. Aunt Cassie was invited to the birthday party of some barely known great niece or nephew and thought she did everything right but she spelled the name wrong and some years later the book ended up in the op shop. It's a pretty boring book and there are a million books I'd rather be reading to Baby so I understand why it ended up in the op shop, but that doesn't make me feel better for Aunt Cassie, it makes me feel worse.

Recently Baby has gotten interested in an abridged version of The Magic Pudding. 

At least Lachlan may have hung on to this copy for a little longer. A lot longer. But look at this inscription. Under the sign off and date does that say "(Nan Giles**, your great grandmother)"? First she is calling him "Lachlan darling" and next she has to explain who she is, as if the sign off isn't enough. 

It's all too much to bare. Or am I just feeling sensitive because I just watched Dr Drew's sex addiction rehab show? Either way, alls I know is that I am never inscribing a book again!

*The legends went something like that, forgive me keepers of the legends if the details are not entirely accurate.
**I actually have no idea if that says Giles, old lady hand writing is hard to decipher, even though this is similar to my own nana's handwriting which I could always read fine. But I did know who she was so that would have helped. 

When things end (AM)

I didn't put off watching the last episode of Breaking Bad exactly. I just wanted conditions to be right. I didn't want to be too tired. Didn't want LB to be too talkative. I just wanted things to be right. Then last Wednesday they were. Don't worry, this won't have any BB spoilers. This is all about me. As usual.

After watching 4 seasons in one month last year, having to watch the last season in a serial form meant I wasn't quite as absorbed as I had been. My feelings for Jesse had tempered. It wasn't all I thought about. Still the end of anything brings certain... feelings, doesn't it?

I feel a little ambivalent sharing this but I feel I have no choice.* The night I watched the last episode of BB I had a dream that merged Breaking Bad and Harry Potter. There were heaps of ghosts. Intense chases on horses. And a moment when I had to say goodbye to Walt. I hugged him for what felt like minutes, sobbing with tears and snot streaming down my face.  Yeah.

The next night things were a little more light hearted. I dreamed that by playing some app on a phone I was transported into a karaoke show more like a Jimmy Fallon lip-sync-off where I was teamed with Aaron Paul. But suddenly we couldn't remember any songs and had no idea what we should sing. We were running around trying to figure out what to do. It was also a little intense, but enjoyable. Obviously.

It was about this time that I started listening to this Miley Cyrus song a lot. I guess it's safe to say that things were rough all over and I didn't know how to deal with it. I know. Yep, things were pretty bad. But I guess turning to pop music in times of sadness is nothing new. But Miley Cyrus, unsurprisingly, did not help. I just could not stop thinking about Breaking Bad. Characters' motivations, what they were doing now. Sure, socialising has helped keep my mind of it, but to be honest, I'm still a little wrapped up in it. I haven't had any more dreams about Walt or Jesse, so I guess I'm making progress. Right?

I guess at least I can be grateful that shows this good and intense don't come along very often. Yeah, maybe it's time to be grateful for all the shit TV.



*That's a lie. I chose to share. I just want you to know I feel weird about it.

Universe, what are you trying to tell me? (PM)

I don't see how a project called Fluro Chickens could be anything other than really great. So I am pretty sure the universe just wanted you to go to Collingwood Children's Farm that day, but because it is the Universe and doesn't like to shove it down your throat, it delivered that message via a sad old guy looking for change.

I went to the Collingwood Children's Farm last week with Midbro, Niecey and Little Nut and  it was chocker block with adorable chickens. Like this one, which it looks like I papped while it was on its way in to its little chicken shed:

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Fluffy and adorable. But you know what's wrong with this guy and the other chickens I saw? Not fluro enough.

Universe, what are you trying to tell me? (AM)

You know sometimes the universe sends you a message and sometimes it is very clear and sometimes it seems really obscure. Like maybe you are trying to decide whether to go to the zoo or whether to go to the aquarium and you look out the window and it is pouring rain and that is a clear sign from the universe that you should go to the aquarium. But sometimes things aren’t so clear.

Yesterday I was walking down the street thinking about my new personal project, Fluoro Chickens, I am really excited about it and just want to work on it all the time and I was thinking about how I may go to the Collingwood Children’s Farm today to capture some more chickens. With my camera. And suddenly this reverie was interrupted when some regular looking old guy walked up to a parking metre and checked the change slot to see if there was any change in there. As I walked past I thought how sad that was and then… then I heard the old guy make… chicken noises. CHICKEN NOISES PEOPLE! Just when I was thinking about FLUORO CHICKENS! Coincidence? I think not!

What does this mean, universe? Does it means Fluoro Chickens is the best project ever? Or does the fact I was thinking this old guy was sad mean it’s the saddest project ever? OR…or…or something else?

Also this morning my jumper caught fire when I was lighting the stove to make coffee. That seems like a bad sign. But I'm not giving up coffe, universe.