Fireworks

But there are also many people doing it tough, struggling with a substance abuse problem, mental illness, begging outside the small local supermarket. And there are many people around this fair land sleeping rough with no home or place to call their own.

So it’s with some concern that we see this house, four up the road from Cambria. This place has been empty for at least eight years. A few years ago there was a small flurry of activity when (what appeared to be) the owners put a bit of paint on the outside and pulled out all the weeds in the front yard.

But still the place went unoccupied. That is, it went unoccupied until some ghostly types made entry and sheltered there sans power and water for a few weeks. I never saw an actual person moving about the property, but there was the occasional light low down casting a glow on the windows at the back of the place – visable from the back lane.

Then the owners hunted the squatters out and put the nice shiny new padlock on the front gate.

That was at least a couple of years ago.

Apart from the fact that land and houses cost a small fortune around here (a renovated semi quite like this freestanding Victorian place sold for $1.24M two years ago) and that only a mad person would leave such a valuable asset sitting unused and racking up costs (as well as decaying to no good purpose), it strikes me as just plainly morally reprehensible to have unused housing of a modest type, vacant for years while people are forced to live on the street.

I read somewhere that it is usual for maybe 2-3% of houses and flats to be vacant at any one time, but I wonder what proportions of these places are vacant for years on end.

Our local council should triple or quadruple the rates and charge the owners of vacant but habitable properties for routine maintenance and pest control. And remind them, as absent landlords, that they have an obligation to our society to live in the place or rent it out – or even provide free accommodation to a relative, for example. But council should send the message loudly and clearly that if the owners aren’t prepared to maintain the house and have someone live in the place, they MUST sell it.

The other positive outcome might be that more properties come on to the market and take some of the upward price pressure off – for purchasers and renters alike.

Homelessness and residentlessness – two sides of the same coin.

Wind

10 Saturday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Algernon, Bands at the Pig's Arms, Entertainment Upstairs

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Bete Midler, Christopher Cross, Elton John, Eric Clapion & JJ Cale, George Benson, George Harrison, Kansas, Neil Young, Paula Abdul, Pete Seger, Phil Collins, Scorpions, Seals and Crofts, the Association, the Beach Boys, the Bee Gees

Not that kind of wind, Hung, THIS kind of wind.

Playlist by Algernon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qb6yPIo-UJM

Blowing Kisses in the wind – Paula Abdul

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsW8rXPcnM0

Summer breeze – Seals and crofts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkmrMtILPqo

Candle in the wind – Elton John

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkADj0TPrJA

In the Air tonight – Phil Collins

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBwqV0QU0i8

Blowing in the wind – Peter Paul and Mary

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wp4O7v5320

Dust in the wind – Kansas

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RMrltCDCwI

Wind beneath my wings – Bette Midler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPYT9Vyu62A

Windy Sometime – The Association

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ur8ftRFb2Ac

Ride Like the wind – Christopher Cross

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAVU3LNzsrw

Blown away – George Harrison

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GZMPKTYsL50

Wind of change – The Bee Gees

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4RjJKxsamQ

Wind of change – Scorpions

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZNaA7fVXB28

Against the Wind – Pete Seger

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-WMbP1RcC4

Like a Hurricane – Neil Young

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piJojvguaKM

Anyway the wind blows – Eric Clapton and JJ Cale

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjxK9ojmAT8

Wind Chimes – The Beach Boys

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14pitnJlcv4

Breezin’ – George Benson

Imelda May

08 Thursday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Bands at the Pig's Arms

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Graham Norton, Imelda May

Hung One On Whitman

08 Thursday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Neville Cole, Poets Corner

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

'Shoe, Algy, Asty, Big M, Emmjay, Gez, Gregor, Helvi, Hung One On, Lehan Winifred Ramsay, Merv, Neville Cole, Vivienne, Voice, Warrigal

Story by Neville Cole

I’ll admit it. I tied one on with Hung One On down the Pub last night. As I recall, it all started amicably enough. All the locals were there celebrating the 5^th Anniversary. Viv’s spread was a real treat. Gregor took to the mic early on and told some raunchy jokes. Big M was singing Karaoke. I had a grand old time catching up with Algy, Shoe, Voice, Asty, Lehan, Gerard, Helvi, Warrigal and, of course Emmjay. But, much, much later, as closing time drew nigh, things got a little…well, strange. Hung grew increasingly introspective, almost wistful, as the night went on and we began to talk – as we often do when we get this way – about life, about love, and about…poetry.

“Some day, Mate,” he says to me, “I’m gonna go walkabout. I gonna drop this…” he paused for a moment to choose just the right word, than added: “façade…and start living.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I replied, appropriately emphasizing exactly in exactly the right way as I downed my last Trotters.

“I think you do. I think you do. I know you do!” Hung said with a sudden smile. “You and I aren’t the types to be penned in by… by rules…and, and rules. We are the truth tellers. We are the rebel alliance. We are poets, man…and we should be out there poeting our guts out.”

“We are poets,” I agreed with him. “When I look at you that’s exactly what I see.” I was at this time somewhat fixed on the word exactly as you might have already guessed. But I continued nevertheless: “You, for sure, are a fucking poet, Hung. Walt Whitman’s got nothing on you, brother.”

“Walt Whitman!” Hung leapt to his feet like a sleeping dog woken by a noisy cat. “That’s it!” Hung cried climbing his stool to reach the bar.

“Hey, hey,” Merv sang out. “Closing time, Hung. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

“Hear him out, Merv,” I said quietly. “He’s on a roll.”

“Warrigal kept to himself. Quietly sketching away in the corner; but I saw a wry smile break across his face as Hung began to recite a poem in a loud, clear voice.

“Song of MY self,” Hung announced to the almost empty bar. “By Hung One On Whitman.

And what followed, I recorded exactly as it poured from his soul…’cause no one would believe it if I didn’t write it down.

Song of my self

Come breathe the musk of morning
sit silent at the desert dawn;
Listen for my breath
Here me cry the empty sky
into being
Bathe in the light
I am not lost
nor hidden in rock
I am not dead
you are not dreaming
we are Life eternal.

Throw off your shoes
Did toes in solid earth
Draw kindred souls into your veins
There is not end in sight
no apocalypse is nigh
there is not one of us will die
we all are Life eternal
we are the one supernal
I take you in as you do I
Give yourself to the forests and the seas
We are all what feeds the other
There is no turning back
This is a never ending track that leads back to an open door
no floor
no ceiling to block the light
you are in my sight
no need to fear the night
Feel my warmth on you skin
Let me in
Turn your face to me
Give me a smile for today
You are Life eternal.

Look to the sky
Not a cloud to block the blue
This is my gift to you
This blue sky
that greenish-yellow leaf
the purple pinkness of the flowers
the richness and ceaseless variety
you are wrapped in a multitude of color
all for you this glorious display
I paint the world this way
To make each day your canvas
Take it in
Hold it with you to look upon
During the hours of grey and black
Remember my gift
Seek it out
The new day is just beyond the horizon
It will not be slowed or stopped
It will not hold back from you
Even if you doubt or despair
Even if you curse and cry
Even if you lose your way
Even if you forget
A new day is coming
Every moment
a hundred million every second
all across the Earth
a billion others like you and I
feeling with us
We are Life eternal.

Hung stopped for a moment, then a moment more, then paused, then graceful as a dancer, he bowed deeply and humbly. Emmjay and I cheered. Even Warrigal rose to his feet in applause.

I don’t remember much that happened after that. It’s a bit of a blur. I remember watching the sun come up a few hours later and replaying Hung’s poem in my head; but that’s about it. Still, it was a top notch 5^th Birthday bash and I can’t wait till next year’s party.

8 Gigabytes of Hardcore P0rn0graphy

07 Wednesday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Cricics, Critics, Everyone's a Critic, Emmjay

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Andrea Gibbs, Declan Greene, Griffin Theatre, Lee Lewis, midlife loneliness, online dating, p0rn0graphy, play, Steve Rodgers

Pic Borrowed from Griffin, with Thanks.

Review by Tearthese Trouserzoff

So, last weekend, FM, a couple of pals (Terry and Brenda) and I went to see another in the flesh gem from Griffin Theatre Company at the Stables (the old old Nimrod).

The play is called 8 Gigabytes of Hardcore P~ (just to get past your nasty network filters). While there was no actual P in the play, it was a very contemporary cutting and funny reflection of the midlife loneliness-driven world of online dating / SMS “romance” – or more accurately the lack thereof. Look closely at the picture above. Can you make out the repeated word “happiness” ? It’s elusive. It sure is elusive.

“I’m fat. I’m stupid. I’m ugly”. “Maybe if I wasn’t so fat, I wouldn’t be so ugly – it’s because I’m stupid” But I DO have some good qualities ….. pause …. I’m kind.

LOL ?? ! ? The spoken SMS punctuation was hilarious.

Written by Declan Greene, Eight Gigabytes stars Andrea Gibbs and Steve Rodgers and was/is directed by Griffin Artistic Director Lee Lewis (whose mythological adventure The Bull, The Moon and The Coronet of Stars blew us away last year).

The protagonists exist in a sad and lonely mid-life wasteland – she is an underpaid/overworked nurse – a single mother of one facing a slow grinding financial oblivion and he’s trapped in a very unloving marriage where he sits desperately waiting for his TV- watching his wife to go to bed so he can pullout the laptop, unzip the fly and … you can guess the rest.

The two (one hesitates to use the word ‘lovers’ ) meet online, negotiate a stop-start phone affair and eventually meet in person. They get to share an uncomfortable drink or two too many in a bar as well as sharing a plethora of half-truths and outright lies – much like the lies he tells his boss when he gets asked whether he’s downloaded 8 gigs onto the company laptop on one of his many sick days.

It’s a sad, sad, funny dialogue – at once poignant and heart wrenching – according to Terry who’s gone through much the same scenario after his kids grew up and left the nest, and for whom the drama was just a little too uncomfortably close to home. Not that he was keen to share that with Brenda – his partner of just one year.

Afterwards, we discussed the play for hours over a meal and a few glasses of somewhat too inexpensive red – which is a fair indication that we really appreciated the play, the light-as -a-feather direction, the warts and all acting and the all too human story of the built-in compromises involved in beating loneliness deep in the third quarter of life.

Griffin supports new talent and the price of a seat is really at the bottom end of live entertainment – but the quality of their productions is fresh and always outrageously good.

Go and see 8 Gigs if you can – It’s a blast ! http://www.griffintheatre.com.au

Dear Gregor

05 Monday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Gregor Stronach

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

agony uncle, Gregor

Simianlated Photo of Gregor

Why do men have nipples?
Men have nipples for aesthetic purposes. They mainly exist to provide punctuation for the pectoral muscles, and occasionally to make fat men look like hairy women. They also provide an excellent place to attach electrodes during routine questioning of African American suspects in southern police stations.
Without nipples, a man would look like a mannequin, and the less men look like department store dummies, the better… because if we start to take nipples off men, eventually there will be a worldwide glut of nipples on the international market, and the internet pornography industry would die.

Dear Gregor
Why does a grown man who rides motorcycles own an overly cute cat?
He is either secretly a very soft individual, with a carefully constructed façade of seriousness tempered with a blistering sense of humour, or he might be gay. Take your pick – although I’m leaning towards the first explanation myself.

Dear Gregor
How do I get the hot mamas to like me?
I would start by putting pants on… you’d be amazed at how quickly your fortunes will turn around once you stop turning up places with your doodle hanging out.

Dear Gregor
How did Tom Arnold end up connected with every movie featuring black people ever?
Tom Arnold had himself declared black for tax purposes in 1992. To celebrate, Tom was awarded the publishing and distribution rights for every single film featuring black actors by Michael Jackson, who has been steadily divesting himself of assets since he was busted for playing ‘touchy touchy’ with some little children.

Dear Gregor
Why do people look at me funny when I touch them? And can I touch you?
A hard question… but I think it has something to do with the running sores on your face and limbs. My advice is to eat leafy green vegetables with every meal, and try to get out in the sun a little more. If that doesn’t clear it up, a gentle wash with a lanolin-based soap (preferably one that doesn’t contain glycerine) might help as well.
Another thing to consider is the notion of asking people before you put your hand down the back of their trousers. The excuse that you are simply ‘looking for loose change that might have slipped down the crack in their ass’ won’t go down too well in court.

Dear Gregor
If girls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice, how comes they taste of anchovies?
Try purchasing salt-reduced humans for consumption. I’ve found that by reducing the amount of salt I eat with my humans, my blood pressure has dropped. Sure, salt-reduced humans may be a little more expensive, but given the alternatives – be it a life of heart trouble or having to shell out the big bucks for totally organic human meat – it’s a small price to pay.

Dear Gregor
Why doesn’t my daddy love us anymore?
Because you’ve been bad. That’s why he left you and mommy alone in the house. He hates you for ruining his life, by burdening him with a responsibility that his weak male ego was unable to bear. It’s also because you look a little too much like the postman.

Dear Gregor
Which came first – the chicken or the egg?
Well, it’s quite obvious that the chicken came first, because without an egg there would be no chickens. No, wait… it was the egg that came first, because without chickens there are no eggs. Shit. Umm. I think they arrived at the same time. Yes. Yes, that’s it… the answer to your question relies upon the order in which you unpack your groceries after a trip to the supermarket.

Dear Gregor
I am a man, yet I struggle to maintain interest in sports. What’s wrong with me? Is there an operation I can have?
Yes, there is. Try a lobotomy. Then you’ll find baseball the most interesting thing in the world.

If you’ve got a question that you think Gregor might be able to answer, send your question stapled to an A$10 note and your editor will try to remember what the cash was for, but will probably drink it anyway.

This piece first appeared in Gregor’s head, then it moved out and lived at Rum & Mon key for a while until someone put it out on the nature strip for the Council Pick up

Father O’Way than Ever

05 Monday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in Emmjay

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

Church of the Latter Day Home Brand, Father O'Way, St Generic Brand Church, Styx Creek

Story by Emmjay

A pair of dusty and calloused feet crunched their way across the gravel in the Pig’s Arms car park, separated from the sharp grit by a well-worn pair of Jesus sandals.

The good father looked downcast as he took his seat at the cathedral end of the bar. Merv, in an unusual display of sensitivity, sensing (incorrectly) that the Easter overtime had taken its toll, wordlessly poured the good father a stiff glass canoe of single-pink pink drink. He patiently waited until the good father chose to address his flock of one.

Father O’Way took a long draw on the dayglow draught, and spoke thusly:

“Looks like we’re up Styx Creek this time, my son” he said.

“How so, Father ?” said Merv.

“St. Generic Brand’s” said the good father. “We’ve had the tap on the shoulder from the Bish”.

“Bastard” said Merv.

“Not his fault” said the good father. “It’s George”.

“The Cardie his-self ?” asked Merv.

“The very self same” said FOW.

“Bastard” said Merv.

“Totes” said FOW, picking up the argot of his other parishioner, Diss’n Terry.

“What’s the drum, Father ?” said Merv.

“The Bish said that George had a visit from the Church of the Latter Day Home Brand and they made him an offer he couldn’t refuse” said FOW.

‘Get out !” said Merv “George isn’t going to cop any standover crap from those low-price pushers”.

“No” said the good father, they told George that he wasn’t getting good parishioner value per metre of pew space and they offered to buy a chunk of St Generics and replace Generic worship with Home Brand”.

“But doesn’t that cheapen the message ?” asked Merv.

“Bish said it’s time we recognised that the demographic is changing. You know, ‘Never mind the quality, feel the width’” he said.

“I dunno what that means, Father” said Merv.

“It doesn’t mean anything” said FOW. “He’s just fertooling around”.

“I dunno what that means, either” said Merv.

“Look, put it down and get a proper grip on yourself” said FOW.

“How can I say this ?” said FOW. “And before you answer that, it was a rhetorical question”.

“A what question ?” asked Merv.

The good father’s eyes pointed skyward and he asked the ultimate power to give him strength.

“Look, let me sketch this out for you with a thicker crayon, Merv. For a sum of money that stretches way beyond the weekly take at St Generics, George is going to import cheap and shallow parishioners in pastel crimplene and replace the Pig’s Psalms with cheesy guitar music and curdling lyrics sung by atonal creepy types with clear skin and faces as bland as the hand towels in the Mondrian Brothers (plumbers to the art classes) loos. Do you follow me now ?”

“Like those people from the buywell belt ?” said Merv, finally getting the message.

“Exactly” said the good father. “The ones that never take a medicinal pink drop and will never play the porkies at the Pig’s Arms.

“Cripes” said Merv.

“Precisely” said FOW.

“I can’t stand that cheesy music” said Merv. “Nobody’s girl leaves him for another man, nobody gets shot and nobody’s good old dog dies. There’s no passion – no real life journey experience in it. They have no stories – just soppy warbling”.

“ I hate nylon strings on guitars” said Hung, from the Paddington end. “Plunky, plunky plunk. Less cut-through than a warm fart in a phone booth” he added.

“Is this thing a definite done deal, Father” inquired Merv.

“Yeah, well, in PRINCIPLE, it’s a done deal” said FOW.

“Might there be a cooling off period ?” said Merv. “Or a performance clause ?”

“Like… ?” said FOW.

“Like …. Say the Home Brand faithful failed to take root at St Generic Brand’s” said Merv.

“Say, if the Hell’s Angles turned up, sang right off key and asked tricky theotrigonometric questions during bible study” said Merv.

“Would there be middle aged men with long ponytails ?” asked FOW.

“I hate middle aged Christian bikies with long ponytails” said Hung.

“My son,” said FOW “They are all God’s children…. Whether they are complete dorks or not. Remember, God created man in his own image”.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the bar for a few moments….

“What’s our counter lunch offer ?” Merv wondered.

“You mean, how do we get the Bish to get George to change his mind ?” said the good father.

“Yeah” said Merv.

“ I don’t think George really gives a continental about the brand quality” said FOW. “It’s donations per pew metre. It’s bums on seats” said the good father.

“Who’s up for a little bit of brand stacking ?” asked Merv.

The bar started to fill with the usual afternoon crowd and the general consensus was that siphoning off a bit more of the meat tray raffle money to support St Generic Brand’s was the least the patrons could do”.

“After all…” said Merv “with Eddie O’Bad’s people and Arturo Sinister Demons moving into the area, St Generic Brand’s will have a lot more sin to shift and we all know the wages of not shifting sin”.

VIVIENNE’S Happy 5th Birthday to the Pub – The Spread

05 Monday May 2014

Posted by Therese Trouserzoff in The Dining Room, Vivienne

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

Birthday Cake, Canapes, Cold Buffet, Hot Buffet

Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

In the spirit of a milestone birthday party, the big 5^th, half a decade, I’ve prepared some virtual food. As they say, get stuck in, please enjoy, bon appetito, smakelijk, velbekomme, kali oreksi, selamat makan, douzo meshiagare etc.

CANAPES

On arrival pub patrons will be offered plates of beautiful homemade canapés (or ‘orsesdoovers). Nibble on small pancakes topped with smoked salmon, sour cream and caviar, melba toast with chicken liver pate, smoked trout and pickled water melon rind or baba ganoush. Gluten free homemade crisp bread is there too – all delicious.

Then there is the cheese board to peruse: French brie, Australian cheddar, Milawa blue and goats cheese and some more, the names of which I can’t spell or remember how to pronounce.

THE COLD BUFFET

With Trotter’s Ale, mystery pink drink, wine or whatever in hand move on to the cold buffet.

Help yourself to slices of double smoked ham right off the whole leg, fresh tiger prawns, Sydney Rock or Coffin Bay oysters freshly shucked, cold roasted chicken drumsticks, rare roasted whole scotch fillet and any of the many enticing salads (potato, coleslaw, mixed lettuce, homegrown tomatoes/cucumber/fetta/olive or tabouleh). For the vegetarians I’ve gone to a lot of trouble and made devilled eggs and a spicy lentil patty with so little meat in it you’ll hardly notice.

THE HOT BUFFET

Then waddle over to the hibachi in the new slightly enclosed verandah for smokers. The coals are ready for cooking. COOK YOUR OWN HOT FOOD. Just select any or all of the prepared meats on a stick. There is my fabulous malay satay (lamb), original beef kebab, chicken satay and more garlic prawns and scallops on sticks. For the vegetarians – sorry there is nothing so you are stuck with baba ganoush, devilled eggs and salad and cake.

DESSERT

There is no dessert. (I only do crepes but I used all the mixture up to make the little pancakes for the canapés.)

But there is a BIRTHDAY CAKE. In keeping with the pub theme this is one laced with brandy and sherry. It’s full of dried fruit, wholemeal wheat, brown sugar, butter, free range eggs, crushed homegrown almonds and another dash or two of brandy and cream sherry.. Yes, it is actually a rich fruit cake. I could have done my carrot sponge cake with strawberries on top but there are no strawberries and the fruit cake is easier to prepare ahead of time and I needed that time to get to the fishmonger for the oysters and seafood which are clearly of greater importance.

So here’s happy birthday to you – to be hummed with gusto and toasted with a glass of sparkling shiraz durif from a vineyard down the road from me (it’s bloody good).

PS: there is an excellent jug or two of percolated real coffee on the table near the cheese. Some drinking cups too if you must. But I’ll probably open another bottle of sparkling somethingorother ..….. hic.