The 80's Are Back

Oh yes they are! The 80's that is and I am going back there myself on Saturday night. I will write more when I have time suffice to say I am apart of the new exhibition which opens this Saturday night at the Powerhouse Museum titled "Back to the 80's or something like that. Of course I was interviewed for the sub-culture section of the exhibit under the heading of Goth. What I should have been under the heading of was young, silly and unable to maintain a decent hairstyle and due to being the town freak had to avoid being piffed with oranges. Still I am most interested to see how my interview came out and if it is crap then I will have to spend the next year camped outside the Museum lest anyone I know should see the bloody thing. In the meantime I am giving you all a heads up - there are some pretty fantastic early photos of me circa 80's which may be on display so get in early and check them out. Okay I will enlighten you all soon with more 80's antics and the stories of the big opening night where in my current state let's just say more than one person will be enjoying Pseudo Echo other than me in a most fat manner.

For Some Reason?

I have written a number of blog posts via my word program and now I can't transfer them across. So the last post came up with nothing. Stay tuned I will have it sorted and there will be lots of fun new posts. I hope.

Depeche Mode - Concert Review 2 - August 17th

Oh Dear Dr. Edelsten Oh Dear!

Firstly I know, I know I have not blogged in a while - but I have a sick note if you want it. Still nothing is more sick than a 66 year old man getting hitched to a 26 year old woman. Having said that I just love a gold digger and ain't she something - oh and riddle me this, why is it that men who marry these woman always tend to dye their hair a very peculiar shade of dark. Frankly Geoff it is obvious that you are not the colour you once were, but then again I don't think your baby bride was born a platinum blond either so you at least have hair care in common. Strangely I always felt Dr. Edelsten had always bitten off more than he could chew, lets face it, his idea of building million dollar medical centres throughout the western suburbs of Sydney during the 80's was doomed to failure, opulence in the face of adversity - now there's a winner.

I can remember as a child being taken to one of these lavish looking medical centres with its smokey gold mirrored glass lined walls, pink Cadillac parked in reception and a baby grand piano for sick patients to tinkle the ivories on whilst they waited for service. I was running a fever when I was taken and I truly thought I had died and ended up in Za Za Gabors lounge room. The sad fact was all this over the top looking crap did little to help the poor old Doctor when he felt the need to have his "problems" sorted out by none other than "Christopher Dale Flannery" or Mr. Rentakill or as I like to refer to him as "Mr. Rentadill" and for that he was struck off the medical register in both NSW and VIC forever. Strangely he has managed to come up with 3 mil for a wedding - well, well, well - my drawn on eyebrows are ever pointed skyward at this conundrum - we haven't heard from him in what 25 years, he doesn't practice medicine anymore and has no visible means of income. Hmmmm Interesting.

One From The Vault

Thanks to Peter this afternoon I will now have this song rolling around in my head for days. Maybe even months. Still it's an oldie but a goodie - so get blacked up and get those tap shoes ready - mind you do the black up part in private or you will get into more trouble than starting a war in a country that can't possibly beat you - k. "Remember it's only a laugh no harm done"

3am - Eternal

Oh yes those crazy dreams keep a comin - Last night I found myself in charge of a rather large factory cafeteria. The fact that I have never worked in either a factory nor a cafeteria seemed to matter little to my over dreaming brain. Strangely as with the recent dreaming patterns it made no sense what so ever but what made me laugh at the usual 3am when I woke up was the fact I remembered that I was being instructed to try and work out prices for the meals as the cafeteria was a "subsidised" cafeteria for the staff. Meaning they get the food cheap. My main concern during the dream was serving the potato mash via an ice cream scoop which I always think is rather 1970 local RSL but simply screams "cheap". I don't know how my debut into the world of catering actually went but suffice to say I hope I don't find myself in that position in the future. I mean what would I do the dilemma would always be "should I use real potato or fake Deb/Potato whip" - God the choices the choices.

Oh and if you do find yourself awake at 3am - please remember to sing this song - I certainly do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LXEOESuiYcA

LA - Concert Reviews + Blade Runner - Still to come.....

Look at the above happy face - yes Coyote in LA = happy. Coyote with 60kg of luggage due to shopping extravaganza = even happier. Coyote business class all the way complete with diva tantrums at Qantas check in staff = unhappy. Coyote meeting and having luncheon with Sally Savalas the late Telly's wife as a result of extra day's stay in LA due to diva tantrum at Qantas check in staff = another chapter in my book.

So I will review the last two concert's, my unabashed love of all things Blade Runner plus my confusion regarding the Getty Museum soon. Oh the fun of it all.

Strange Days Indeed - Most Perculiar Mumma

For the past few weeks I have been inundated with strange dreams. No surprise given the rush of hormones I am experiencing - what with my final transformation into realising my dream of being a man - oh no that's right it's my "I am a 35 year old female hormonal beard" I have always wanted. But I digress, the state of my dreaming has verged on an LSD trip infused with a few tokes of a serious crack pipe. Take for instance last night's dream - here I was back at the Petersham Roller Rink walking up the stairs to the skate hire section - which I would never have done since I owned my own skates. Still I was walking up the stairs when a black panther - the cat - not the black political group - latched onto my left arm and started to chow down. It didn't seem to hurt that much and I thought it might be wise to try not to make a giant fuss of this rather large animal now hanging from my arm. So up the stairs I go - Black Panther in toe. Then a man standing at the top of the stair case informs me that I have a Black Panther attached to my arm. In stellar comedic form I say to him "No shit Sherlock" and stand still for a bit then the guy tells me that if I make any sudden movements I will lose my arm as the Panther will rip it off so my smart arse response back is "Well thank fuck its my left arm and I don't need it as much as my right" At that point I start to laugh my head off - waking me up to my own laughter - lol I might add at 4am in the morning.

Strangely this is not the first time I have laughed myself awake from dreaming. On one such occasion I had a laughing fit that lasted for about two days after dreaming of a Koala bear which had attached itself to my arse. Frankly it still makes me laugh to even remember that dream - but my boss at that time never found the amusing side of me having to excuse myself from meetings with tears of laughter and the lame excuse that I was laughing at a very funny dream I'd had. Poor pet I guess he just had to be there.

This Is It

Today I went and saw the Michael Jackson film "This Is It". I thought it showed exactly how brilliant he really was. "Talented" is not a big enough word for the type of performer he was. No doubt other two bit "performers" should take note of the fact he was always able to sing and dance and to be honest frankly even in track suit pants and a mismatched shirt he still danced better than the professionals standing behind him who appeared to be practically dancing for their dear lives whilst he simply "ran through the moves" in order to rehearse and still managed to out dance the lot of them. So to any critic who found it easy to be nasty in regards to his personal life I doubt any of them could possibly disagree that he was the consummate professional and was completely capable of presenting the best concert experience I for one have ever seen and no doubt will ever see again.

The Carnival Is Over - Or At Least This Year's Festival Is

On Saturday I gave my annual lecture on early Sydney Crime at the Under The Blue Moon Festival. I have to say I always think nobody is going to show up to hear me but I was pleasantly surprised with yet another full house. The day was all sunshine and happy which is of course every Goth's nightmare. I thought with the pleasant weather for the first year in a while the kids may opt for walking the mile and ignoring indoor pursuits but I should have known better. Inside is always better than outside when you are teetering around in a corset, high heels and more make up than Liza Minnelli at Derby Day.

So it was that I presented my 45 minutes+ to what appeared to be a rather appreciative audience. I did laugh to myself when I was given the 5 minute wrap up signal to get off and I realized I had a bit more on my topic to complete. Hence forth I then went into a crack induced coma and spoke at 5 billion miles an hour in order to finish and I have no doubt the audience was thinking I was off my rocker - I certainly felt it at the time trying to get my story finished. Still there is nothing like a Benny Hill ending in fast pace to make you laugh to yourself later on - oh and laugh I did. As always the staff at Simplicity and the festival organisers were professional and kind and I find it a privilege to be offered the opportunity to speak at what is now shaping up to be a very large and well attended festival.

Special thanks to my two nerd boys Marky and Chris for my slide show and music - without them I am nothing. Though they do tend to look after their "talent" quite well including diva tantrums and not listening to technical instructions.

So all in all a fantastic day and a lovely evening of watching "choobs" march herself up to the neighbours place in a pink tinsel wig complete with plastic black cape and pumpkin headband to be presented with trick or treat Halloween lollies that I had dropped off earlier for her arrival. Unfortunately no children came knocking for trick or treat which was a pity for them because I was forced to eat about 100 or so lolly snakes as a result later in the evening. Yum.

Songs To Screw With Your Mind at 3am

Whilst in LA recently and whilst actually venturing on Ventura Highway heading to Santa Barbara I was reminded of the "America" classic "Ventura Highway". Frankly once the song gets in your head its very very hard to get it back out - it can take days and in my case weeks. This then led me to thinking about another song that whenever I hear the word "Wildfire" I am reminded of this song which lurks in the recesses of my mind ready to pounce at any moment. Frankly they are both good tunes but bugger me if at 3am in the morning they don't come a callin. Oh and you will be surprised, especially since now I have suggested it, how many times you will hear the word "Wildfire" mentioned in the course of the next few weeks. Damn that lost fucken horse is what you will be thinking, as do I.

So here they are - to screw with your mind at 3am! Go on you know you want to!

Ventura Highway - America
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KnhKcCwZwl8

Wildfire - Michael Martin Murphey
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DIkpqdjU-qo

Under The Blue Moon Festival - Yes I'm On Again

It's that time of the year again, when all things dark and alternative are celebrated in my town of Enmore. This year the festival is being held on Halloween, Saturday 31st October. I am of course doing a lecture at the usual venue of Simplicity Funerals in Enmore Road, Enmore with a start time of 2:15pm. Of course my theme follows on from the past few years with this year being titled "Sydney's Original Gangsters" I am growing more excited as the festival approaches and I hope some of you can come along and enjoy the day. I will put up another reminder as the date draws closer but it is truly a fun day out for the whole "alternative" family. Check out the website it is packed with lots of different and unusual things to do over the course of the festival. If you are looking for my lecture details just click on "Funeral Parlour Lectures".

http://www.underthebluemoon.org.au/

The Colonial Would Be Turning In His Grave

Seriously I can't believe Kentucky Fried Chicken - Grilled Chicken!!! - Give me a break will you. Oh and no I refuse to call it KFC, it is now and will always be Kentucky Fried Chicken. I am shocked and appalled at this hate crime by people who want everyone to be as fabulously healthy as they are. Marketing guru's with pony tails and Porsche cars and 28" waists have dreamt up this bad idea. Well fuck you sunshine when I go to Kentucky I want fat dripping off the side of my mouth, I want it dripping down my fingers, I want it dripping down my arm and then dripping onto my clothes. I want it finger licken for fucks sake. I certainly do not want to be confronted with "grilled chicken" in any form, frankly if I wanted a healthy choice I would have stayed at home and eaten last nights left overs - pizza. I mean what with the Colonial with his jolly smile and toggle tie complete with white apron I mean to do you think he was conjuring up a nice piece of grilled chicken when he invented "Kentucky "Fried" Chicken" - "oh yes" he must have thought to himself "that will sell" No he didn't he wanted the world to enjoy the fabulous taste of fried food and die loving it. Hang your heads in collective shame Saunders descendants because hell has taken on a new form - "Grilled Chicken"

Note to marketing guru: The only healthy "alternative" I want from Kentucky is fried salad of some form, perhaps potato - or you could try frying up one of those tasty buns - now there is an idea.

Greg Norman "The Shark" Get's Divorced!

Oh and they said it wouldn't last. I only have one comment on this ill fated "affair" even though I have no relationship with the parties involved, obviously or I would be rich. I certainly know all there is to know about the divorce game. Frankly as unwise friend recently had tattooed on his back "What goes around comes around" In this instance he could not have been more prophetic or further from the the truth.

The Wizard Of Oz

Last night I switched on my drug - Foxtel - and sat back to enjoy the Saturday night "Golden Years of Hollywood" presentation from Bill Collins. Firstly let me say I just love the old Bill, and golly gosh how on earth does he keep his hair that brilliant chestnut colour. I guess he gets hair help from the "stars" ie, Bert Newton. In any case last nights visual feast was the truly great MGM classic "The Wizard Of Oz". I always enjoy hearing what old Bill has to say on the topic of films and he never ceases to amaze with his vast amount of knowledge, even on movies which he has presented about a zillion times over.

So last night even he was first to admit that he would find it hard to give any information about the film not already done so before. Though as usual he managed to find some zingers. The first being a book which was released all about the film and of which was actually written by the most unlikely of author, Salman Rushdie. Also he mentioned the change in directors as the film was being shot as the first director wanted to axe not only Judy Garland but mainly the song "Over The Rainbow" as he thought it was too slow. Bill then also pointed out the year in which the film was made - 1939. I sat back and thought, far out brussell sprout that is 70 years ago yes that's right 70 years ago.

I guess I had not thought the film was that old, 50 years maybe but 70 - wow!. It just goes to show the endurance of such a wonderful film and the fact that after all this time it still manages to enthrall and in my case scare the shit out of millions of little children the world over. Oh and yes I did check the back and front door on numerous occasions last night - just in case the wicked witch of the west tried to take my cat. Oh and of course being a ranga all I ever dreamed of was one day becoming the good witch of the North - Glinda - sadly I am still waiting.

Highlighter Hair

Above: I was going for a "cyber cheerleader" look on this night out - my hair was in fact very very highlighter pink, though even this picture does not do the colour justice. I guess you just had to be there.

Recently I was asked what is the craziest colour that I have ever dyed my hair. The answer was simple, highlighter pink. As you can see I was going to a rather adventurous night out with unconventional conventionalist's when I decided late on a Saturday afternoon that "hot pink" was the objective of my ensemble. Of course not having time to rectify things if they went wrong I ended up looking like a Stabilo hot pink highlighter. Strangely people thought I was wearing a wig, which didn't make feel happy since I had lost so much skin off the top of my head stripping the colour from my hair with bleach. So from the dark days of my usage of food colouring as a means to an end to walking into a hairdressers and walking back out with fairy floss hair I have done it all baby. Strangely I am thinking of going back to being a full blown ranga for a while, then again do I really want rotting fruit to be pegged at my head? Mmmmmm.

RIP Mike Leyland

I loved the Leyland Brothers. Frankly Saturday early evening's before bath time were not complete unless you watched "Ask The Leyland Brothers" and "The World Around Us" then topped it all off by scaring the shit out of yourself with "Great Mysteries Of The World". So it was sad to hear that the pioneer of travel documentary style television had gone to God. I hope he is a having a wonderful time though I have no doubt he is exploring the furtherest reaches of heaven and finding it just as fascinating as he did here. Only the Leyland Brothers could show you a rock and convince you through their enthusiasm that it was a diamond. So below is an early episode of the once great show just in case you were not fortunate enough to see it as a kid. Strangely I never noticed the wet tee shirt competition which seems to permeate through the opening credits. It's funny the things you don't see as a child and honking huge nipples were obviously not on my agenda, though I guess I wasn't a boy which probably goes a long way in explaining why I missed it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9MyS9uCcbgg

Depeche Mode Concert Review - August 16th 2009 - Hollywood Bowl

Above: L to R: Brian - Peter - Tamara - Jodie - Mark - Andy - yes they are Scottish - yes they are nude under the kilt.

Above: Yep that's what we saw - a lot of light from a galaxy far far away

Below: Tamara making the best of a bad situation and tilting her head to show the guy who spoke out of the side of his mouth she also had a nervous tick. (Sorry in joke)

Below: Marky and Jodie being silly with the stage a distant orange blip behind us.

Below: The stage - on zoom.

Above: Yes that is them on stage - hoorah!

Below: Marky and Tamara being silly before the show

Set List 12

Hollywood Bowl (August 16th, 2009)

In Chains

Wrong

Hole To Feed

Walking In My Shoes

It's No Good

A Question Of Time

Precious

Fly On The Windscreen

Jezebel

Home

Come Back

Policy Of Truth

In Your Room

I Feel You

Enjoy The Silence

NeverLet Me Down Again

Encore #1

Somebody

Stripped

Strangelove

Encore #2

Personal Jesus

Waiting For The Night (Bare Version)

For some reason, and I have no explanation, I have not been as impressed by the latest album of my beloved DM. “Sounds of the Universe”. It is a good album but it didn’t seem to have the same baptism of fire for me like previous albums. There are a number of very good tracks, and the video for “Wrong” is the best video since “Precious”. Of course my dislike of most things Anton Corbin who creates the video’s and art work for DM usually has a lot to do with why I like any video he doesn’t do, hence why I loved “Wrong” and “Precious”.

So I went to the first show with trepidation. Would I love the new tracks live? Or would they leave me feeling a little lost? Thankfully upon meeting my DM husband, Andy in the hotel bar along with my DM brother in law, Brian I was assured by them both that the new album was not sitting well with even the biggest of fans, i.e., them. They were also concerned that our feeling of the album just not sitting right was being reflected in this tour and that without doubt the album wasn’t doing so well sales wise. It was nice to hear fans whose opinion I trust feel the same way I did and be prepared to say it aloud. The fact is between them they have pretty much been to every show DM has ever done, this tour and past, and so if anyone knows what the crowd is reacting to it is them.

So, Peter, Marky, Tamara and I along with Andy and a very very very hung over Brian all bundled ourselves into a rather large taxi and headed to the famed Hollywood Bowl – a purpose built outdoor amphitheatre . On the trip to the bowl I commented that myself, Mark, Peter and Tamara would all be sporting blue hands, and be blue from the waist down before the night ended as we had all been on a jeans shopping spree earlier in the day and had decided to wear our new purchases for the first big show so we would be all spruced up. Of course it was then that a laughing fit ensued between us all and didn’t stop in the cab for pretty much the entire trip, which saw Brian become considerably greener and obviously wishing he were somewhere else in stead of being with those from the Colonies.

So of course upon arrival at the Bowl we milled around and tried to look cool in our new duds. It wasn’t long before we realised that the band had come on stage and we needed to get to our seats quick smart. Of course you can’t be running to your seat when it is located in row xxx up the back of a bowl where you need to get about four sets of escalators to reach into the stratosphere so much so that you may in fact become weightless. I think as it turned out we were about four or so rows from the back row, or thereabouts.

I am lucky because I have experience with American audiences, both at the Bowl and elsewhere having seen plenty of shows in the US. Though if you haven’t then to the average considerate Australian you may need to have a Bex and a lie down before doing battle at a US concert. The fact is American audience goers live up to the quintessential antithesis of what we all loath about American’s. They are loud, annoying, disrespectful and eat big serves of greasy food with huge chug a lug’s of beer to wash it all down with, all whilst watching a show. So you take your seat, the show has started and the fuckers all around you are talking, eating, walking around, standing in front of you, and being complete pains in the arse, and that is when they are being respectful. The most loathsome aspect of going to a concert in the US, and I have found it is from one coast to another is the bizarre ritual of smoking copious amounts of dope during the entire show. Fuck me if it ain't 2009 and Woodstock was 40 years ago mate but WTF.

Yes that’s right, it wasn’t Cyprus Hill we were seeing it was Depeche Mode and you would have thought it was 1969. I thought this culture was confined to “rock n roll” type bands but when I saw Tony Bennett at the Hollywood Bowl and could smell dope like I was walking the promenade in Griffith NSW circa 1972 I was flabbergasted.

So yes I always seem to forget about this minor detail when I go to see DM in the US, until I get there and then I am rudely reminded. Oh and don’t bother trying to ask them to shut up or sit down or stop making your head spin because they are ALL doing it. I have to have a laugh because if you so much as even breathe at certain concerts in Australia you would get lynched let alone have the audacity to smoke a giant spliff at a Kylie concert. Can you imagine? Actually Kylie has recently played the Bowl I wonder how high she got. No doubt she was certainly “Spinning Around” So for my Australian companions it did take a little getting used to; you know not wanting to commit homicide and all.

Now onto the main event, the show itself. By the time we got to our seats the band was well into “Walking in my shoes” and frankly as usual Dave was giving it everything he has got. Upon reflection we looked at the time and the concert had started quite early but given the fact that the previous show had been cancelled in San Diego due to Dave’s voice playing up I figured he wanted to get the show over and done with. Poor pet. Thankfully his voice was fine and even though the sound was rather crap due in most part to poor mixing the show went well. I think for me the highlight was definitely “Fly on the windscreen”. I love when they throw something really old and out of know where into a set, it shakes it up, which is something they don’t do all the time – Dave being a boring old Taurus and never wanting to change may have something to do with it. I understand Dave I am a Taurus too. Heaven knows Dave does love his black pants, black vest and black shoes so it is always left up to Martin to compensate with a fashion faux par like eyeliner or purple nails.

Don’t get me wrong I love his outfits and this tour’s tip to toe glitter ensemble was fantastic, at least we could see him – hint hint Bono. Of course they played all the standards which the US crowd always respond well too including Dave’s aerobic class to “Never let me down” which believe me starts to make your arms well and truly ache. Of course I love when they also decided to throw in some songs from the album “Songs of faith and devotion” mainly because the US audience show that they really couldn’t make up their mind with the album and are still tense about heavy guitar sounds and Dave’s drug taking days. Frankly I loved the album and seem to be the only one going mad at US concerts – you know the odd Australian out.

So now on to the subject of Dave’s drug taking days – since I’m on it already. Frankly I think something is going on with Dave, he only brings out the black scarf around the neck when he has previously been on “the ox” (drugs) and for some reason its back this tour. Not every show but for many. Now this isn’t the only observation and I know he has allegedly been ill but frankly he did seem to be lacking something, perhaps album sales maybe, but all in all he wasn’t looking as chipper as the last tour and I hope he doesn’t go back down that road. Okay I have left out Fletch pretty much in the whole post – yes he was there – yes he jumped up and down at inappropriate moments – yes he doesn’t play much at all – yes I think he is playing an x-box whilst on stage instead of actually doing anything – yes it is a big waste of time him having a stylist as recorded in the tour booklet, how hard is it to get black pants, black tee shirt and black sun glasses together for an old ranga? Yes I love Fletch but even he admits to doing nothing.

So the show ended with the controversial choice of “Waiting for the night” which of course is a

slow song. They chose to end the shows on the last tour with “Goodnight Lovers” and of course the fans went ape shit because they wanted to hear something more up beat before they went home. Frankly I loved the slower song to end the night; it just proves they are not like every other band. Oh as for the stage sets I did like them, the big revolving centre piece ball and graphics were good. For some strange reason I have always liked what Anton Corbin does with the set designs but I think that is where he should be left – on tour.

So it does sound like I had a bit of crap first show and I guess in a way I may have but it was still very good and I enjoyed it, especially the part when it was over and we were walking back to get a cab and of course got invited in to the after show party with the band. Yes that’s right we stood at the after show party and watched Fletch and Martin lap up the ladles whilst we drank their booze and ate their food. I have been up close to both Martin and Fletch before and no I didn’t approach them, I have no need say anything to them. I once stood next to Martin at a Dave solo show in LA and told him that I loved him and thanked him. He was gracious and attentive and at least acknowledged my good intention. So it was nice to feel after our long trip that DM appreciated us and were able to spare a few free drinks and aperitifs put on in our honour was much appreciated. Oh and no Dave never ever is seen at after show parties or any party for that matter, fair enough, he needs to leave the chicks for Fletch.

Being old and frankly feeling it we dropped off my DM husband and Brian who had curbed his hangover with more booze by this point at a local haunt in Hollywood. We then proceeded to go back to the hotel and go to bed but not before our cab driver thought it would be a good idea to get up close and personal with some mean looking gangsters driving in the car next to us. Tamara noticed some bullet holes in the body of their vehicle and I believe if the cabbie had of pissed them off much more by darting in front of them then we might have been sporting some bullet holes of our own. Rock N Roll baby! Stay tuned for the review of night 2.

P.S. – Note to Martin – please never sing Jezebel again ever – k. Though we still love you even if you do, but umm don’t.

King Kyle Sandilands = BFW: Big Fucken Woopie

I noticed in the latest round of Kyle drivel on the news that he opts for a golden microphone. Frankly the only person who deserves the golden microphone accolade is John Laws. The reason he got it was due to the fact he managed to stay on the radio for more than 50 years. Something I highly doubt King Kyle Sandilands will enjoy, in fact I'm hoping he never get's another fifty seconds. Love John Laws or loath him he managed to stay on air for a very long time and was number 1 for most of it - so perhaps he was doing something right. Apart from this gibe against radio the goose call's his company "King Kyle Productions" God and I thought I had an ego problem. So the only thing left to do is play a song with him in mind. Perhaps if we all put together a collection we could convince one of those up and coming "Pop Corn Gangsters" from Melbourne who wants to make a name for himself that what Bon so rightly termed a "dirty deed" no doubt could be done dirt cheap and he could be our back door man for a fee.

Of course I'm just a humble law abiding housewife so what would I know? but I'm sure someone else could try and work it out. Having said that the infamous criminal Mark Brandon "Chopper" Read was once asked to knock Warwick Capper at a football match in Melbourne. He said he thought about it but then declined as he knew Capper would eventually disappear into the ether as he had no talent. This perhaps goes a long to explaining why King Kyle isn't on the missing list what with intellectual hit men roaming the streets it isn't any wonder.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MQcY7j9ZQYI&feature=related

Note: Stage divers on Countdown and the fact Bon was in fact playing "live", Oh how 1976!

Tour Of The Universe - Except Asia Pacific - Part 1.

Above: Marky and Peter upon Peter's arrival. Below: Peter drinking wine out of a paper cup upon his arrival at my suite.

Below: Tamara arriving - after a 24 hour flight - a tired baby.

Below: The Coyote relaxing in the some what "duluxe" suite. Okay okay it just had views to the Hollywood sign but no mini bar - k.

Below: Our home away from home The Wilshire Plaza Hotel -LA

Below: Wow and we found this really great resturant up the road you should try it - its called Denny's.

Most people who are involved heavily in a religion go on pilgrimages, I am one of them. My religion is the house of Depeche with my God Dave and the Arch Angel Martin with Fletch taking the position of Minister for jumping up and down and not actually playing anything whilst on stage.

So as with every other tour I have packed up and headed to Mecca or its DM alternative the USA. Last tour I chose to go to New York, frankly my town of choice but this time I thought I would go to LA as I can normally get myself into all kinds of trouble in that town, and frankly I am not Robinson Crusoe on that front. So the choice was made – LA Or Bust!

This time I managed yet again to convince people to come along with me and join the devotee’s in our trek to see God. Peter, Mark and Tamara all joined me and oh what fun we had. Firstly we all had to arrive, separately, which of course makes no sense since Mark, Peter and I were all coming from the same location but of course I got to LA first to make sure I got there with enough time to climatise.

Of course it was business class with Qantas all the way and I should have listened to the husband when he said the new in seat video means you no longer have to take anything with you on board other than your passport and ticket. Yes, yes so what if that is what he does for a job do I ever listen – no. Suffice to say I enjoyed at least 10 hours of non stop video action as its something I don’t always get time to do. I will in a later post have a laugh with you about the perchant for business passengers to wear the supplied Morrissey pj’s. Very funny and strange behaviour.

So I arrived in LA a few days before everyone else. Of course I don’t give a fuck what anyone says jet lag is the worst form of torture and I just like to get to the hotel, order room service, and then sleep it off and worry about the time later. So that is what I did.

After two days of eating and sleeping Marky was the first to arrive. Of course he pretty much did what I did and slept all day. The next cab off the rank was Peter who arrived a few hours before Tamara. Finally we were all together, and as you can see by the arrival photos, tired but excited. So we then had a few days to go shopping and begin having fun before our first of three shows. Stay tuned boppers.

Talkin Bout My Generation

Yesterday was the anniversary of the death of Keith Moon. He would be 63 if he were alive today. Suffice to say the toilets of the world breathed a collective sigh of relieve when old Keith went to God, as did many a hotel manager where he blew the toilets into a million pieces with dynamite. In the end he was banned from the Holiday Inn, The Sheraton, and the Waldorf and many other hotels in-between. Frankly if I were that famous and rich I would most definitely chuck a few sticks of dynamite down the dunny to see what effect it would have, and don’t get me started on how many tellies I would chuck out the window, or into the pool or possibly off the balcony.

Strangely in the end Keith was the only baby boomer in “The Who” with whom lived up to their much sold prophecy, “My Generation” you know the old lyric “Hope I die before I get old”. Well frankly as far as the baby boomers are concerned, and you do know how I love to bitch about what self indulgent wankers they can be not to mention how they love to live in the past and spend everyone’s money and then blame everyone else but themselves leaving them now with no retirement money and everyone else having to foot the bill because the stupid twats seemed to think the 60’s would last forever and they may in fact “die before they get old”. Well, well, well you bunch of gooses now that you are in fact “old” you have no money and the sad fact that you have to re-live the past by watching a bunch of old men trying in vain to smash up their instruments on stage with the greatest of care so as not to end up requiring a hip replacement afterward.


Still I should shut up since Gen X came up with the lovely line “No future, No future, For Me. Thanks Sex Pistols perhaps you may have summed it up nicely, or perhaps you were talking about the Baby Boomers?

A Tribute To MJ and Richard

When Michael Jackson died I was shocked and of course sad. Despite the fact that the media has enjoyed tearing him apart I always kept a candle burning for his level of talent and overwhelming ability to entertain people. When he toured in the 80's I was lucky enough to see him at Parramatta Stadium, which was across the road from where I lived, and very exciting to see the stage and equipment being set up weeks before the shows. I can honestly say I have seen lots and lots of live concerts everything from Tom Jones to Franz Ferdinand to Neil Diamond but I have never seen anything like a Michael Jackson show. Fortunately I was able to see him again when he toured in the 90's and was blown away yet again. He had it all, stage presence, theatre and of course he could actually sing. Apart from his phenomenal stage shows when you listen to the albums with their amazing production and ahead of their time sound and vision he was truly the King of Pop.

When I was in 6th class a girl from my class had purchased the video to Thriller. A much sought after item I must say considering no one I knew owned a video player at the time, funnily enough neither did the girl who bought the video. So she begged our teacher to let us watch it on the school's video player. The teacher thought it would be good as a treat to get all of our form together to watch it. To say I was blown away and it changed my musical life forever is an understatement. It was fucking amazing and I will never grow tired of seeing the video clip or remembering how it made me feel at the time. So yes I bawled when it was confirmed he had gone to God.

I was also compelled to think of Richard who died about two years ago who owned the antique toy shop not far from my house who was a Michael Jackson impersonator. He was the subject of a documentary film just before he died which focused on his life and the interesting and eccentric man that he was. It was titled "Richard - The Most Interestingist Person I Have Ever Met" The film won accolades at the Cannes Film Festival and it is little wonder when you see it. I met Richard a few times when I went into his shop. He was fascinating and not unlike looking at Michael Jackson if you imagined him not so dressed up everyday. Richard was a complex man with many frailties which eventually was his demise and he was unfortunate to succumb to the black dog taking his own life.

I was sad when Richard died. Every eccentric who dies before their time and is misunderstood always seems to leave my heart a little heavier and Richard was certainly someone who touched me with his passion and enthusiasm. I understand how it is to be devoted to music. My affection for Depeche Mode is similar to Richards love of Michael Jackson and in that way I understood why he was the way he was about MJ.

So I thought about it in the ensuing days after MJ had died and I decided I needed to memorialise them both in a way. So I asked Peter and Mark to help me put up a massive sign in honour of Richard where his shop once was and now sits unoccupied since his death. I wanted to honour his passion for MJ and somehow MJ as well. It was freezing cold on the night we put it up, our fingers almost chipping off as we stuck the sign up, but it was fun and exhilarating and as we did it I blasted Thriller out of the car stereo. We left it up on the shop window for a few weeks until they had the public memorial and then we snuck back and pulled it down. Frankly leaving the shop window cleaner than it has been since Richard were alive.

I was deathly ill with the flu on the night of the memorial and I was awake feeling sick so I watched the telecast live. I was extremely impressed with the service it was brilliant, I cried buckets. So to anyone who doesn't understand what its like to be called a freak then Rev Al Sharpton put it perfectly when he addressed MJ's children by telling them "Was nothin strange about your Daddy, it was strange what he had to deal with, but he dealt with it" Hallelujah!

So to Richard I truly hope you are moonwalking with Michael Jackson all the way to Eternity.

A Day At The Beach

As per my last post in regards to the up coming Powerhouse Exhibition on the 80's I thought I would share with you tonight a photo I provided to the curator. Yes it's me, and yes it's true, even baby Goths went to the beach - sometimes. Frankly this photos confirms that no matter how I would like to sugar coat it I was a freak. Thankfully I am now damn proud of it, though you can afford to be at 37 can't you? lime green sneakers and all and with years of wisdom under you belt or belly as the case may be until March. As for my DM exploits in LA I am in the process of sharing the experience, suffice to say I had a brilliant time and still believe that Dave Gahan is God, well to me anyway and I would happily let his cup runneth over - anytime - anyplace. Stay tuned boppers.

Dreaming of the 80's and Peter Kapusi - The saga continues....

Yesterday I was interviewed for an up and coming display that is going to be installed at the Powerhouse Museum in December. The theme of the display is still a little unclear to me at this stage but I think it might be the 80's in general, with certain sub-cultures as bit parts on the side. Of course the sub-culture that I was interviewed for was Goth. Surprise, Surprise. So yesterday I basked in the undeniable glow of my own ego whilst I was filmed by a team of museum curators eager to learn more about being a Goth in the 80's.

I was initially contacted by the museum after they had spoken to Steph who organises the Under The Blue Moon Festival and she assured them I was the person to whom they should seek reminisces. So here I was yesterday, in my lounge room, with a film crew with lighting and camera's fixated upon my good self all for the purpose of finding out what it was like to sway around a darkened club to the sounds of Depeche Mode, whilst wearing a musty St Vincent De Paul outfit that cost a mere $5 tip to toe total.

I was surprised I kept them as captivated by the whole experience of the 80's Goth subculture as I did. I even managed to shed a tear at one point when explaining how I felt I had arrived home and met my other space aliens when first entering the Goth nightclub Sanctuary. In fact it is possible what I actually proved to them and possibly anyone who visits the installation or AV as they called it, "that's Audio Visual for those like me who don't understand acronyms," is that underneath it all I am still just a red headed dork who dyes my hair to be different.

My hope now is that I never have to see vision of me wearing the only clothes that currently fit my "with child" state. The fact I had to jazz up my boring outfit with a pair of lime green Nike sneakers fresh from my LA trip should speak volumes. Of course the husband was scathing in his assessment of my attire stating how much I should avoid the sneakers. Well fuck him I thought, if I was going to look like a middle aged has been what better way to express myself than to wear something not even an 18 year old would dare to touch, right?. My thanks to Leigh Bowery's spirit yesterday that reiterated the slogan "Wear it like your life depends on it"

So after my adoring crowd left along with the tape of me gushing about an era that if I were to be transported back to via a "back to the future" machine I may now think it wasn't that super dooper after all. I retired exhausted into my inner sanctum - "this is my bedroom to those who have never heard me refer to it in this manner". Then I drifted off to sleep to dream about all the things I didn't do in the 80's but obviously my subconscious still thinks is a good idea to tease me with - passing the HSC, having long natural black hair and a tan and being a very very naughty school girl with Peter Kapusi.

I'm Back Baby

Okay so one post per month is all I can handle. I can change - I promise. But I will still be me - lazy as ever and longing to return to the comfort and solance of my bedroom and an episode of Eastenders.

Kyle & Jacqui O

The day that these two are finally off the air will be a good day in Australian radio. As Molly Meldrum pointed out they are completely talentless. Ray Hadley this morning commented that Kyle has the intelligence of a cumquat. Say no more.

Lazy!!

That's Me - Will start writing my fabulous outlooks on life soon. I'm getting geared up for DM in US in August. I think the count down is something like 10 weeks to go. 10 weeks till I see my beloved DM Husband again. Oh the party which will ensue - I wonder how many places we can wreck havoc on this time. Ahhh fun fun fun.

Andre Rier Comes To Westpoint Blacktown

You know I remember a time when the only classy thing that ever happened in Blacktown was well, umm, nothing. That's right nothing. Class is something Blacktown didn't have a lot of. That is until Westfields came to town and changed everything for the local "Westies". Yes that's right, "Westies", not "Bogans" that is Melbournian terminology which has been adopted into our Sydney vernacular by those Prada wearing, cafe latte sipping, Mercedes 4WD driving Mexicans who have never lived in the Western Suburbs of Sydney and only purport to know the truth of what a truly localised Westie really was. Frankly a "Westie" was a flannelet wearing hoon, who drove a rather large car, had their name - "Waaaayyynnneee" screetched at them by a girl named "Raylene" and attended Blue Light Disco's pissed on Passion Pop and yelled as loud as possible the lyrics "Head Suck" to the Radiators. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bkKb3KEda0 all done whilst diligently trying to not spew up the meat pie with sauce consumed for dinner at the Doonside Hotel.

So after many years of reformation in Blacktown, thanks largely to the ever corporate responsible Westfields the people of Blacktown will finally have their "day" of culture tomorrow. Yes that's right, that "ye olde" violinist pin up boy with the sympathetic to Blacktown mullet will tread the boards of the illustrious Westpoint Blacktown Shopping Centre stage. Though I guess Andre will be selling many copies of his CD's, DVD's, boardgames, lunch boxes, and lookalike dolls I bet the real reason he is performing at Westpoint is to no doubt brag to his friends and marvel at gracing the stage of such spectacular past stars who have gone before him like, Nikki Webster, The cast of YTT, and of course Santa.

So for a suburb so rarely known as the capital of culture with a C, Blacktown it would seem may finally be able to wash away their Kulture with a K status and start afresh when Andre takes to the stage to rid them of the sins of Radiators past. Like a baptism from the fires of hell its amazing how when you once said you thought it would never happen "until hell froze over" that Blacktwon would one day become culture central then one only needs to rug up and head to Blacktown Westpoint at 2pm tomorrow to watch the icicles form upon the worst haircut in showbiz and the penguins slide on in as Mr Andre Rier does his best to inject some much needed culture into a town so deserved.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3i1-p4fP08

David Bowie

A few nights ago I dreamed of having a long conversation with David Bowie. I can't exactly recall all of what we talked about but I do remember Bowie commenting that I really should go to Hurstville Library and borrow "Christiane F" and re-read it. For those of you not in the know here is the link to find out what I am referring to; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christiane_F.

I got onto the book in my teenage years as a direct result of Bowie's appearance in the film adaption of the book. I also have a copy of the German version of Hero's as I loved it so much.

The film and book frankly made me what to whack up heroin rather than avoid that lifestyle. It didn't exactly glamorise a heroin lifestyle, rather, it opened my eyes to the fact that despite what nay Sayer's say, frankly drugs feel fucking great at the time. A bit like everything, it always seems like a great idea at the time till it isn't anymore. I love David Bowie, frankly what self professing freak doesn't. Who, as a freak, can resist a man who fell to earth, reinvented himself as an alien from outer space who gets famous and then has to kill himself off because he gets to full of his own self importance. How fucken fabulous huh?. Of course my favorite Ziggy line is "well hung and snow white tan". Oh how I picture Bowie naked in this line, pervert that I am.

So David Bowie you are still a legend and no matter what drivel you come up with I will always love it, even if you have not had a hit in centuries - neither did the Ramones and now it seems every kid who thinks they are cool sports a fucken Ramones teeshirt for some odd reason. This is a slight tangent but I sometimes want to go up to them ask them to sing "Pet Cemetery" in full just to see if they know who the fuck the Ramones were or if its just a "I'm so fucking alternative" status symbol - On this subject "FCUK" anyone? Good fucken lord those tee shirts make me cross, its simple just write FUCK on your tee shirt and get it over and done with. Don't be cryptic just wear it proudly FUCK OFF YOU WHITE MIDDLE CLASS WANKER. Okies rant over back to Bowie story.

I went and saw Bowie the last time he was in Sydney, he was fantastic of course. I also waited outside the Entertainment Centre like a dork with about a coup la a hundred other devotee's to catch a glimpse of Bowie as he left the concert.

Before the man himself appeared a lone cameraman and interviewer came out and told us he was videoing for the Bowie concert DVD and he then started interviewing some people waiting. He of course came up to Glenn and I who were waiting at the fence and asked what we thought of the show. Glenn, who was thinking quick and of course funny said "Well we are annoyed he didn't play his big hit "I want my MTV". The interviewer looked at us strangely and then, understanding where Glenn was going with this, I said "Umm yeah Sting was great but we really wanted to hear that song" The Interviewer started to laugh and somehow we managed not to and Glenn then said that he was a huge fan of Sting and wanted to send him a cheerio and thanks for the memories, which he then proceeded to do down the camera lense. It was comic genius. Everyone of course around us including the cameraman and interviewer were pissing themselves. It was funny as far as we were concerned and we laughed about our antics for sometime afterwards. Who knows if Bowie saw it. Doubtful since he would have been too busy climbing into his oxygen chamber to return to another planet.

High Tea

I went yesterday to the QVB for high tea. It was fantastic, little cakes, little sandwiches and vanilla tea. Lovely. I highly recommend it and will be venturing back there again soon. On the way out the other guests and myself went to the Body Shop. Frankly I have never understood how you can make so much money out of so little. If I were to open a shop and grate up some zucchini and carrot and mix it with something and sell it as face cream I darent say I would sell anything, but they have made a lucrative business out of selling fruit in a gel bag. I was also horrified at the prices, so much for going green to benefit your wallet more like spend spend spend girlfriend.

I have to admit I did fall for the the lip stain stuff, only because my friend works there and I get it for half price. Apparently it will stain my lips and therefore I will be able to use less chemical lipstick and so on and so fourth. Hilariously I put some on last night and I still have stained lips this morning. So who knows how long it will last for, perhaps it is the henna of the lipstick world. Or perhaps I will wait until I get cancer and blame it on the lipstick. It is kind of like the babies bottle world at the moment. I was told the other day by a very concerned looking new mother that I should immediately dispose of all Avent brand bottles. The reason was simple. They give your baby cancer.

Well bugger me if it is now so widespread that even babies sucking on a harmless bottle are in danger. I dutifully went home and prepared my babies Avent bottle, safe in the knowledge that my mobile phone, tv, radio, microwave and the big killer - aluminum foil all await her future of cancer dodging. Good luck humans, good luck.

A Song For Jabe

To my darling Jabe, sleep peacefully wherever you may be - Thank you for being you and reminding me of who I should strive to become - This song is for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tf3tkU08B08

In Memory of Jabe Babe

Tomorrow the 6th April I will stop to remember my friend Jabe Babe. It has only been a year since she died but in that time I have managed to achieve a lot of things and it is thanks to her legacy and the message she gave all of us who ever dared “to live”.

As she would have wanted I will share with you her most well planned event of her life, her funeral, and I hope Jabe Babe can touch everyone who reads this in death as much as she would have in life.

Jabe Babe – More than A Heightened life

I met Jabe at work. Suffice to say we didn’t work in an office together. I instantly liked Jabe and strangely, or due to the surroundings of strangeness we were surrounded by, I didn’t notice how tall Jabe was. I was to find out later that Jabe was in fact well over six foot tall and suffered from a genetic disorder known as Marfan syndrome.

As a result of Jabes condition she was the subject of a documentary film, of which was shown at no less than the Carnes Film Festival winning critical acclaim and an AFI award, amongst other accolades.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jabe_Babe_-_A_Heightened_Life

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oWlUoI-ColQ

Frankly all I noticed about her was her fabulously long fingers and perfectly painted nails. Jabe
came across as professional and at the time I loved that. I hated working with people who thought they knew it all, but Jabe just fitted in – a definite prerequisite to working in that industry; you either fit like a glove or were eating the pavement outside as you flew out the door.

Unfortunately I didn’t work too often with Jabe, it turned out we were an ever revolving door at the time with changing careers and circumstances but she left an indelible mark on me and we certainly enjoyed talking about growing up poor in the western suburbs as freaks and misfits. The fact is what is talked about personally in “that room” stays in “that room”. Hours upon hours of conversations and every one of them with Jabe was enjoyable, how couldn't’t it be with that amount of life story to tell. To be honest every sister who has entered that order has an incredible story but what separated Jabe from most of is she knew she had a limited time to do everything in life she wanted and was not afraid of who she was, or what she did. To this end I am sorry Jabe, I am still in awe of you, and hope one day I can be as honest as you were about your life, your past, and your career choices. One day, maybe!

So as the dawn broke on the 6th April 2008 Jabe Babe returned home from a final night out on the town and would never live to see another night fall again.

A day later I received a call from another ex co-worker the ever fabulous Claudia, to let me know that Jabe had died. I was saddened to hear the news and arranged to go to both the viewing of Jabe and her funeral. The viewing was something I wanted to do as it is a last chance to say goodbye in person. I was already sick with the flu when I found out she had died and I was slightly worrisome the day of the viewing. I really wanted to be there because there are no second chances when it comes to this kind of thing. I also feel as a sister she needed to be sent off with a kiss and acknowledgment that we all share a common bond, despite everything and anything.

Those who know and understand the sisterhood, its perils, its triumphs and its exclusive membership know it is only fitting and customary to provide the best send off possible. Jabe Babe left this world looking as absolutely amazing as the day she came into it. As she had always known she would die young every detail had not be overlooked or unattended to. Her makeup was perfect, her hair and nail polish were perfect, and her outfit was well chosen and befitting the Goth princess she was. Decked out in full corsetry, with the trimming of her attire being a dress she had previously stolen for just this very occasion, she was the epitome of Gothic eloquence.

I gently put my hand on her cold hand to bid her farewell and lent forward to kiss her when I noticed her piece De resistance – flashing devil horns atop her head. How I didn’t notice them when I first looked at her I have no idea but I then cried and laughed at the same time whilst giving her my last kiss goodbye. As I stood up I noticed an old friend who I had not seen in years. The urge to exchange pleasantries over the top of Jabe was overwhelming because it was as if we were not standing over Jabe as a dead person, more over we were at her home and she had fallen asleep. Or at least this is how it felt at that moment.

We nodded acknowledgement of seeing one another and I stole away to the fresh air outside and rejoined the Gothic mourners to avail myself of the details of the impending funeral which was to take place in the next day or so.

The funeral notice in the paper was clear and precise. “Dress in your best to which Jabe would expect – no exceptions.” The “event” was to be held at the one venue the “Marrickville Bowling Club” and as I was in the shower on the morning of the funeral I worried as to whether everyone else would get the message to “dress up”. I panicked thinking my choice of potential attire would be deemed unfit for such an occasion so I pulled out the old faithful black suit, as a "just in case".

Of course I knew in my heart what Jabe’s wishes meant, it meant nothing less than Gothic finery, and I dutifully obliged her final request of Gothic regalia. So at Jabe's behest I felt it would be appropriate to wear a full 18th century pinstriped bustle skirt, with matching jacket and corsetry which was held in so tight I could hardly take a breath. If this is what she wanted, I was going to comply wholeheartedly. With that said my black suit spent the day at home and I marched out the door feeling confident and fabulous for Jabe.

Upon arrival I noticed the lovely Claudia walking down the street, both of us the very picture of the darkness of the sisterhood and I stopped to escort her so we could walk in together. Upon entering I was relieved to see everyone, and I mean everyone, dressed in their most unusual. It was also great to see almost all the sisterhood in attendance, with past grievances and grudges left aside for a public show of love and unity from an industry so frequently judged, but rarely entered into from the outside let alone understood. Jabe would have been proud. Speaking of Jabe she was greeting her guests on the dance floor, lying in state in her personally chosen black Gothic coffin adorning the dance floor. So as she had done in life she was gracing the dance floor again in death in complete style.

We all took our seats for the commencement of the service on the dance floor, on one wall there was smokey glass, and across the room next to Jabe’s coffin was a life-size cardboard cut out of her from the documentary film promotions. Every time you looked anywhere in the room the reflection of Jabe could be seen. The Mistress of Ceremonies was a treasure, and spoke so well and introduced each speaker with aplomb and dignity; it made the proceedings so much the better for her candour and sense of humour. She announced each song Jabe had chosen and we sat chattering and remembering Jabe through renditions of Bohemian and Rhapsody and other songs.

The speeches given by Jabe’s friends were warm, loving, extremely funny and so uplifting I wondered at times if we were at an inspiration seminar or a funeral. Jabes last job was with the Department of Community Services working in an office – probably the strangest occupation Jabe had ever had. I loved her work colleague from DOC’s regaling the audience with tales of Jabe calling her a “mole” in jest and her initial horror as an office worker to be seated next to a character like Jabe. Of course only to find she ended up loving Jabe more than she could express. She then brought everyone to tears as she told us she was sad to learn that Jabe had died when she had only recently had her eyes operated on so she could see more clearly. She said she felt Jabe was finally seeing the world clearly, and should have been given more time to view life via a clear path. It was a profoundly prophetic statement about Jabe's life.


Jabe’s best friend was one of the final speakers and was with Jabe on the last night of her life. It was to be her friends hen’s night and Jabe had organised the entire evening’s festival of events with Jabe declaring it was going to be themed “Alice in Wonderland”. Of course Jabe assumed the role of the “Queen of Hearts”, as was expected of her character, and she wore attire to suit her newly founded role. The girls partied all night, danced, drank, laughed; club hopped and whopped it up as only they knew how.

As the night drew to a close, the club doors shut behind them as they left for home and entered a new day with the dawn breaking on their backs, her best friend said Jabe ran into the middle of the street, raised her arms in the air and exclaimed exalted.

“I know I shouldn't be doing this – but I fucking love it”

That is who Jabe Babe was. Yes she probably should have been tucked up in bed but she wasn’t. She was spending her last night on this earth doing what most people never achieve in a lifetime “living her life”.

At the end of the speeches and after hour d'oeuvre's and mingling it was finally time for Jabe to officially leave the party and move onto her final resting place. Jabe had organised everything for the funeral its venue, the music, the notices, the photos of herself, the food, Everything. Though the one thing she could not control was leaving. It is a necessary end to everyone’s life. Leaving.

We all stood to form a guard of honour as we were told Jabe would be carried out to the waiting hearse whence she would be transported to a private cremation. We all lined the dance floor with lights and music surrounding the room. The smoke machine belched out great puffs of smoke, the music drowned out our sobs and we clapped so ferociously it was enough to make your fingers tingle. We then followed Jabe down the stairs and out onto the street to wave her on her way.

Frankly at this point I believe Jabe felt she was no longer in control of her final moments. Yes she had planned everything but she was never one to leave a party half arsed so she began to wreck havoc.

Whilst we watched Jabe being lifted into the awaiting hearse a cortège of the sisterhood, friend and foe, held hands to gather strength in our hour of mourning. Tears flowed and so it seemed did the smoke machine. So much so that we could hear the distinct wail of sirens in synchronicity with the wailing club smoke alarms – and the sirens seemed to be heading our way. Within a minute or two the street was blocked at both ends by two fire engines with firemen running into the now empty bowling club to attend to the “smoking fire”. It turned out the smoke machine had caused the smoke alarms to activate thus sending an automatic call out to the local fire brigade. We stood, jaws dropping, as hot young firemen raced about us. They were staring as much at the spectacle of misfits and the strangeness of the occasion to which they had entered as we were at them.

We in the sisterhood all looked at each other, tears staining our perfectly made up faces, and knew who was behind this halt in proceedings. It could be none other than Jabe herself dominating to the very end.

Of course she would now be late for the one appointment in your life you can’t be late for but she was managing to do it. The hearse was blocked until the fire brigade had confirmed a false alarm, and we all cooled our heels, waiting for Jabe to finally leave our presence forever. The firemen started to filter back out and return to their engines and it was at this point that the ever naughty and previously known minx “Mistress Adele” reappeared in our lives. She had been at the funeral under her good girl guise, but never one to miss an opportunity with boys, “Mistress Adele” sprang to life one more time for Jabe.

“Mistress Adele” Trotted toward the nearest fireman, with breasts ablaze, and eyes alight like no fire a man can turn away from, she whispered a request in the fireman’s ear, then returned to her place and firmly held our hands for her triumphant tribute to Jabe.

And so it was that the firemen all gathered together and formed a guard of honour, whilst the fire engines were started up to move for Jabe’s exit. Then came Jabe's show.

The fireman from both trucks un-reeled their hoses, pointing them skyward they let the water rain down on us, and Jabe, like a shower of unadulterated tears of love. We all started crying, screaming, cheering and waving, whilst office and factory worker’s emerged along the industrial style street to cheer and holler along with the crowd and fire engine sirens. It was surreal.

Though this was not enough for Jabe’s final exit she had to take it a notch further. Jabe then had to have a Qantas 747 jumbo jet scream over the top of us all at that very moment, and be not more than a few hundred feet above us, as it prepared to land in Sydney. The crowed literally went wild with excitement as engines, sirens, screams, alarms, water, tears, and love permeated the sky.

Jabe’s hearse pulled gently out from the curb and slowly made its way down the street. We all stopped crying. We stood, holding hands and watched as Jabe Babe left her party.

When she was gone we were dripping wet. We were in stunned silence. We were exhilarated for life and exhilarated for Death. Jabe was gone. Forever.

Her party was over but her legacy of life will live in my heart forever.

Wordless Wednesday

A Guy With A Guitar on His Head

Today I was coming back through the city after dropping someone at Kings Cross and I stopped for the lights at the corner of Pitt and Park Street in the City outside the McDonald's. Whilst stopped at the lights I noticed a curious looking busker who was playing an acoustic guitar with both hands whilst balancing a second acoustic guitar from its neck upwards to its body on the top of his head. How he managed to keep playing and get through for as long as he did with the guitar perched atop his head is beyond me and it didn't look like an optical illusion from where I was sitting.

The thing which struck me as most odd was the fact nobody walking past gave a shit. Of the hoardes who streamed past not one of them even turned around to get a second glimpse. I mean it could have been Joe Satriani sitting there strumming a guitar and not a cent would have been tossed his way, the fact that Joe Satriani would be playing a guitar and have one balanced on his head would be enough for me to hand him my house keys. So it just goes to prove to me that people en mass are not very observant. Though if you scream the words "Free" or "Hail Allah" then people often make haste in noticing you, or running away at the very least.

Note: If you don't know who Joe Satriani is then you obviously have never surfed with an alien. I on the other hand have been familiar with his greatness for many moons. See below for those not in the know. Your poor deprived guitar hero's.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjNAeELQ_Z8&feature=related

Spew - Vomit - Puke - Oh God Kill Me Now!

I should never have said I was going to post everyday. If I had of just said every second day perhaps I would not have fallen prey to the most hideous ailment known to human kind. Food Poisoning. It is worse than listening to Poison itself because seriously "Ain't Lookin for nothing but a good time" on continuous playback seems like a great idea compared to two days with your head in the toilet. Or maybe not. Still that is what I have been doing for two days - riding the porcelain bus. Thank god that I was doing it within the comfort of my own home, with my own GP on hand to doss out the big needle into my arm and my own husband to come on the porcelain bus ride with me. God love him. We have both endured this kind of spew torture in far away and exotic locations and believe me it is less fun when you have no idea how to say "help" in the correct language and even worse "Doctor". So being at home was definitely the lesser of two evils.

My finest moment came when I pulled the car over somewhere around Summer Hill railway station and spewed into a bucket within the confines of my lovely car. Sorry to any innocent bystanders en route home from work via the station but I had no choice in the matter. Thankfully though the spew storm is over and even though it was not a laughing matter I did laugh every time my beloved spewed because I'm sure they heard him on the moon. So next time I want to lose 2kg really fast I think I might opt for something more traditional like a shake at breakfast, a shake at lunchtime and the shake of my choice for dinner. In the meantime my tip of the week is "never ever eat sardines in tomato sauce before embarking on a spew fest" Enough said....

Keane

A few years ago I was watching "Later with Jools Holland"on Foxtel and saw the most amazing new band called Keane. I was blown away from the start and rushed out and purchased their debut album "Hopes and Fears". Unfortunately they have never experienced any kind of airplay here in Australia - which surprises me since their debut album has been given the accolade of having been one of the best debut albums by any band since the Beatles. On the night they performed with Jools Holland they were also on the bill with Elton John who had nothing but praise and love for them. This could be seen as a real plus since they are a piano based band who he should really have felt threatened by, but of course, had the good manners and taste to accept that they are bloody brilliant. So in April they are due to tour Australia for the second time and there is a chance I will have to fly to Brisbane to see them because I am busy the night of the Sydney show. Still the fact is they are young so there is a real possibility they will tour again, so perhaps I might wait. Its a shame they are only playing a small venue like "The Metro" but then Australia has only just caught onto R&B and Hip Hop/Rap music so no doubt it will take another 20 years for them to discover Keane.

(Note) - Who is Jools Holland and what is "Later with Jools Holland"?

For those of you who don't know Jools Holland he is a well respected and extremely talented pianist who has played with all the great musicians of our time. He is also the host of his own late night music show called "Later with Jools Holland". The show is a rather unique set up in the fact that at least four artists all perform live for a small studio audience in a round circle all facing each other. The really intersting part of the show is the diversity of artists on the one bill for instance on one show there was Cold Play, Glenn Campbell then stand up bass player Amy Lavere followed by John Mellencamp. All the other artists have to stand with their equipment and watch the other play while the camera swings around and catches glimpses of the audience, Jools and occasionally another artist gritting their teeth. So my advise as always is -"If you don't have Foxtel and say you can't afford it then stop eating - get hungry -at least you can watch great telly".

(Note) - Keane I Love You More - DM Cover!

Whilst writing this I was listening to Keane via You Tube - I just went on their channel and let each track play wihtout selecting and next thing I hear is a Depeche Mode - Keane cover of Enjoy the Silence. I will post it below, suffice to say I am impressed.

(Note) - One Last Thing

I was convinced the lead singer looked remarkably like our own "The Saints" front runner Chris Bailey in his younger days - you be the judge.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eTzQC9alliU

I car'nt Spell (spl) Or Use Grammar

I know it should go without saying but I can not under any circumstances spell or use correct grammar. The only time I know how to use a comma is when I am using the word fuck in conversation and I use it as a substitute comma to great effect. So I have never even tried to make out like I can spell because I know damn well I carnt. So thank you to everyone who helps me to learn how to spell despite the fact I have a huge Oxford Dictionary sitting next to me it never appears to help, nor does spell check. I did own a speak and spell as a child for all it was worth, perhaps a private school education would have been better, perhaps not, who knows.
(Note: The word can't was spelt incorrectly for ironic purposes. k)

A Post A Day

Yes that's right - A Post A Day! This is my goal for this month. Let's see if it lasts more than a week.

Back In Black

Black, black and more black and then there was Iva. It comes as no surprise that at the recent “Sound Relief” concert every artist and his dog came out to play. It was a music fans feast, Cold Play, Jett, Hoodoo Gurus, Split Enz, Ice House, Midnight Oil and the list goes on and on, and apparently so does wearing black. First up in the “black” uniform was Johnny “The Voice” Farnham in Sydney, counter balanced with Jett’s black wearing performance in Melbourne at the same time.

Now I know better than anyone the perils of wearing white – hence why I don’t, and I know it certainly has obvious downfalls of attiring oneself in such a dastardly colour. The biggest issues of wearing white are food stains, dirt stains, umm stains and well more stains but the biggest peril of it is; how fucking huge your arse will look in a pair of ill fitting white duds. So of course I sympathize with the likes of Johnny “You’ve put on a bid of podge” Farnham” I mean let’s face it if you are over 60 and can apply for an old age pension then you have a free ticket to wear black as far as I’m concerned. Though Johnny I ask you “Black on Black?” I mean you would have thought a coloured shirt had never been invented. So throughout the entire day in two fair cities artists hid behind the all and mighty power force that kept Johnny Cash in business for years. You may be asking right now “So Coyote what’s your beef you wear more black than the man in black ever did?”

Well having been to plenty an outdoor spectacular including U2 among others I have noticed an alarming trend for artists performing at large outdoor arenas to slip into their Sunday best - black. I paid good money to see Bono mince on stage at Telstra Stadium wearing black surrounded by an entire back drop of black stage, black speakers and black wearing band mates. What a joy to pay through the nose to see a spec, a black blob and watch a show fade into a black hole. So my point is this, “Wear Fucking White”. Like I said I understand the physical pain of seeing once arse widened by at least ten fold but the only person who had the good sense to wear white at Sound Relief was the love of my Australian music life – Iva Davies from Icehouse. Yes his arse may have looked wider – mind you it didn’t, but I’m sure those who paid to see the show could have at least seen something up on stage even if Iva did resemble an iceberg at least you could see something. So thankyou Iva from the tail end of my huge white arse.

It's Just Too Wrong

In answer to Chris's comment about the new Depeche Mode video "Wrong". I just went and checked the video link via You Tube and it appears they have stopped certain "regions" from viewing the video. I then went and checked the official Depeche Mode message boards for any reasons and couldn't find anything. I am guessing the video contained offensive material and may have been taken down for this reason. I thought the Internet was freely available no matter what the content or country - except China of course. So I will try and find out why we are unable to view the new video clip via either You Tube or their official website. The fact it has been taken down from their website makes me think it may be due to the offensive nature of the clip and it may need to be censored for certain countries by the relevant censorship boards. In any case I loved the clip, but then anything Anton Corbin doesn't do for the band is a plus in my opinion. Yes the video is perverse and won't get aired on Video Hits on a Saturday morning but then again no serious DM fan would care less about seeing it on free to air TV anyway. So stay tuned boppers, stay tuned.

I LOVE YOU DM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bsXOcK9_Cw

The Brit's

Tammy is live at the Brits - I have to come up with some fancy questions.....So Far Nothing.....

I Did It Rozie - I'm On Facebook!!!

I finally did it - I'm out and proud. Frankly I don't see the big deal since Peter Kapusi contacted me, and not via Facebook. Oh the power of Googling one's own name.....It worked for me and it can work for you too. So Rozie - Add Me or I will look like a dork - k.