Thursday, November 23, 2017

Harry Nilsson

I discovered all of Harry Nilsson's albums on Apple Music. So instead of only ever playing Nilsson Schmilsson, it is interesting to hear his other stuff. That's todays soundtrack.

Wednesday, November 22, 2017

The Seven Year Itch

The sun is shining, the sky is blue.

I'm getting chuffed and watching The Seven Year Itch. Busy morning, hey?

I've got the Misfits, which I love.
And Bus Stop, also good.

A load of old tosh, really.
Madonna's cone bras, on all the ladies, and lame, uninteligable  melodrama. It was as though all the writer's had a really bad pill addiction. There is a level of anxiety in the script.

Oh hang on, here comes the dress in the subway scene. It is all kind of pervy, as though the leading man could easily turn into a deranged, psycho killer.

Sam got caught up at work and didn't come home for lunch.

Bullitt was the second feature for the day. Jacqueline Bisset, she's rubbish. Her acting always amount ted to an apology. McQueen is dead. I'm guessing not many of the millennials know who he is? Sex symbol? He looked old. Green Mustang Mach 1, a yellow Porsche 356 convertible, the best ever car chase captured on film. Another load of dross.

It's Good

David is in NSW with Mark. Sitting on Mark's deck, touching down from his ever increasing international jet setting job. Bali, Berlin, Italy, Brisbane, Gold Coast. Stop.

Mark sent me a photo of madame lying out on one of the couches with a huge grin on her fat face.

I tell him he looks like a whale.
He said it was straight back onto paleo when he gets back to Melbourne.

Mark asks me if I was looking forward to lying on the couch too. At Xmas? It was the first time it has been mentioned since we argued. (We bought tickets to go visit him at Xmas the day before well fell out) It is good, we made up on the sharing of a photo, of a friend. (That must be pretty zen?) I didn't realise how stressed I was by it until that moment, it felt like such a relief. It's good.

My headphones battery goes flat, the music stops. My Parrot Headphones battery is flat. They have the better sound. (I can only wear them at home, otherwise they sweat in great pools on the sides of my head, sweat runs down my cheeks) Plug the headphones in, (am very thankful it only takes seconds to pull the right cord out of the pile of cords on the coffee table, sometimes it can take forever) I swapped to EarPods. You know, I can put the wrong pod in the wrong ear and it feels perfectly natural, just the sound is off.

Gladys Knight, So Sad The Song. (I think my phone must be on shuffle. Oh, no, it is the instrumental at the end. Kind of pointless without her vocals. Consider deleting that track.)

5am. How many matches do I have to use to have one smoke? My lighter died in the dark. Sitting outside in a t-shirt, you've got to love the approaching summer. I think that is when summer is at its best, when it is approaching. The hint of summer, is always so much more joyous than the 3rd day of over 40 degrees.

I play my Gladys Knight mixed tape from the beginning again. I don't ever get sick of hearing her voice. 

Every beat of my heart.

The birds begin to cheap, the sky has turned to ink blue. The sun is rising, 5.20am, the birds are tweeting its arrival.

The world is steadily coming into focus. I see my coffee cup, I hope there is still coffee in it. A full cup. Now that is truly joyous, a full cup of coffee, at sunrise.

Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Couldn't Sleep

I’m awake at 3.30am. As I glanced over at my watch, I really wished it had been later. 5am, perhaps.

I’d been dreaming about Dusty Springfield recording sessions. Hours of Dusty singing like a black lady. Endless questions about how black she really sounded. Endless listening to tape play back of her voice, as she stood in the recording booth very patiently. Endless recording studios, always filled with people. Big wide brimmed hats, flared jeans. Everyone smoking. The heat of LA and their afternoons where the shadows threaten to stretch to forever. The cold of winter, in crammed London recording studios setup in bluestone warehouses. Wide piazzas of Italy, sun drenched as if in honey. Hot and dank New Orleans, giant rubber plants and mangroves, eating fried donuts dusted with icing sugar. Strong coffee. Always coffee. All with a soul soundtrack playing relentlessly over the top.

What? Ah? Er? The bedroom was dark. Oh, its early. It was no good, I was awake.

I made coffee and rolled two joints. I sat out the back and found that a shelved album from 1971 was released a couple of years ago, making it her final album. It is called Faithful and it is not available on iTunes. Bummer. But I did find that a rarities album of Reputation, which includes four previously unreleased songs from that recording session. It is available on iTunes, and as I don’t have the album, Reputation, at all, I want it.

I came in and made a second coffee to go with my second joint.

I listen to the four extra Dusty tracks, and I can kind of see why the tracks weren’t included in the first place. Pity. But a 12 inch cut of In Private. Oh, even that is very 80s.

4.50am. I sat outside, listening to Reputation. Do I, actually, like this album? It’s very dated. Would I play it again once my current appreciation of Dusty dies down? Like, day light. $19.99. Dusty’s talent has to make up for the very 1980s arrangements. I would only listen to this, essentially 1990s dross, again for very few artists. He voice has to shine, to get me through it.

It is nice sitting outside in a warm summery kind of, almost, evening. Apex Gang home invasions withstanding. It has crossed my mind. Anyone could walk up with me in my own private LED screen bubble bliss, Dusty Springfield singing. Surely, nobody would get assaulted listening to Dusty Springfield, Black Sabbath, maybe. Oasis? (Just because of the angry one, punch him) I’ve got another joint to smoke before I get the scared-of-the-dark and scurry back inside.

5am. Well, I might as well smoke it and get back inside. 2 hours before I see anybody.

“I’ve been arrest by you, take me in.” I love this.

I want my third coffee, is that bad? I must goggle coffee drinking.

I don’t think I would listen to Reputation, much. But it is an important part of her anthology.

Oh, I could imagine listening to this in ten years, perhaps, and thinking, you know, that wasn’t a bad record. I loved it when it first came out.

Oh god, we have a house guest at the moment, a nice French lad. He was a friend of a friend. He must think I am the strange old man who is always sitting on the couch with his laptop, day and night.

I have been going for walks, which I will do again in 4 hours, I expect. An hours walk, everyday, it must be doing me good. Not that it is fixing my fat stomach. I am the BlobberMonster, at the moment, I can feel it around my stomach.

I must think about riding my bike. I can walk when I am stoned, easy peasy, it is kind of relaxing, really it is. But riding a bike, no that wouldn’t be smart.

I think it is a no to Reputation. Strictly an iTunes favourite. Apple Music, if I want to listen to it again, I think.

Monday, November 20, 2017

Monday Morning.

I go for a walk early, before it gets hot, says Sam. Am I someone's nana, I think.

Sam leaves 7.45am. So do I. We head in different directions, at the corner. We still wave until the other one is out of sight.

I walk for an hour. Love Never Felt So Good.

I smoke pot in the garden in the sun, listening to Michael Jackson's hits, His number 1s. All the good stuff. He is a musical genius. The sun is glorious.

Sam messages me for a mid morning update. I tell him I am meditating. Shhh!

At some point, I check to see where Buddy is, his big brown eyes gaze back at me from his kennel. I say, “Oh, good lad.” Oh, he could have been on our bed. He could have been on the couch. “Good to know,” I also hear myself say. It was getting horribly close to lunch to be trying to drag him down from upstairs.

11.05am. I’m a bit wasted, still bopping to Michael Jackson, not a care, if I was really honest, he giggles as he writes that. The best we can hope for now, is leftovers. Think! Think! What did we have for dinner last night? We had crumbed chicken. It could easily be chicken and salad. I wonder. If I wasn’t so, ah... comfortable, or really cared for that matter, [chuckle] I could go and look in the fridge for clues? But really? Why? It will be what it is? That’s pretty zen, isn’t it? I can tell you, I’m feeling pretty fucken zen out in this perfect summer’s day, in the dapple sun shine.

My headphonebuds stop working.

I break out the headphones, full muff, and lose any semblance of having done anything all day, or indeed, giving a shit. I did the washing. I cleaned the kitchen. Did I clean the kitchen?

11.30am. Kitchen is clean. There is chicken curry in the fridge, I think we are saved. Going out could have been a bit of an effort.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

A Day In The Country

Drove to the country for the day, to take Buddy bushwalking in a national forest. It was a beautiful day.

We stopped off to see Leah, cup of tea, whatever. Block of chocolate, some pork buns, a rice dish steamed in a pandan leaf. 

Buddy was slipping himself into his own harness, and gazing at us from the door, in his final plea to be taken for a walk. He knew where he was. He knew the big wide woods were out there where he could run off his lead. He knows exactly how to tell us it is time to go.

The big park they have up there is gorgeous, you can walk forever. The sun shone. Summer is here.

Friday, November 17, 2017

Bring them to Australia because it is the right thing to do, it is the humane course of action, the current system is a huge waste of money, refugees shouldn't be used as political footballs, and Australia can stop being looked at as the country that shirks its responsibilities.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

I went walking in the rain, it was that sort of day