hottest days

(written 12/1) Yesterday went up around the 44-45 mark which was shocking. I spent much of the day in the SLV with my mother researching the introduction of a social work degree at the University of Melbourne (1941) and the professionalisation of social work per se in Melbourne (1929 onwards). We went out of the library at 3-ish which was a bit of a shock but not quite as bad as I had expected, given the extra acclimatisation required (though the library is kept at a sensible level, not frozen). The bad bit was leaving work later in the day - between 4.30-5 – when it was the hottest. It was surprising though all things considered how many people and other creatures (ie birds) were around. I wouldn’t have expected so many.

Last night was particularly unpleasant, like sleeping in a shoebox on the fire. But sleeping nonetheless, so why complain you might ask. Well, I am in the kind of mood a day and a half of extremely hot weather gives one, which leads me to say, I complain because fuck you. It was bad enough where I was a few minutes ago at Glenroy station with a juvenile learning to smoke on the platform (making it impossible to sit out there) and someone old enough to know better – a man in his mid-20s, but an ugly mid-20s, he might have been older – playing a hand-held computer game which was probably supposed to be projecting the sounds of millions of rounds from some gun or other but actually sounded like someone shaking a packet of tic tacs, or an old recording of many typewriters played on a transistor.

I should have complained to them but fortunately for me and you I have a blog.

As I stood on the Glenroy platform I felt a cool breeze from the south up the railway line which was a nice thing and boded well for the future.

This morning I spent finessing some chapter proposals for a book I hope to publish (by which I mean to say, have a company publish for me). I think I jumped the shark with my corrections and reworkings but I felt reasonably OK about it.

rock n roll friends

I have been reading Dean Wareham's book Black Postcards, a very readable piece of musical biography with no strong female characters. Thanks Shane for lending it to me on NYE.
I enjoyed Rage on Saturday night, with an episode of Rock Arena from late 1984, an episode of Countdown from I think 1988 or thereabouts (?) and inbetween an overlong documentary about Countdown from 1979. This was particularly interesting because it started with the Marc Hunterless Dragon doing ‘Love’s not Enough’ in the studio and later, a discussion of the updated group’s appeal (or lack of) by members of the Countdown Committee. Fabulous.
The Rock Arena was amazing for a number of things, all going to remind me of how much fun 1984 was. About half of the show was the Machinations live from the Chevron. I am 99.9% positive that I saw my old rock ’n’ roll (and otherwise) friend Sue Grigg in the audience. I am pretty damn sure it was her. She was wearing blue. Not atypical. That she liked the Machinations is not in any doubt: I have a few of her Machinations singles, which she was going to throw out and which I rescued, with her name written on them, in her handwriting no less. And anyway she wouldn’t deny it. It was a thrill to see her on TV. Within two years she was playing in Chad’s Tree.
The Countdown was OK, ‘Take On Me’ by A-ha (or is it a-Ha?) is still one of the greats, and the Kids in the Kitchen song was so hilariously awful it made me love them again, but when it came down to it I think the Machinations show took the cake. They actually had some really good songs, and that first album is very adventurous. When they became overly funky and shit, they got shit. There is no way to say this nicely but I feel the need to say it for some reason, that Fred Lonergan was an extremely unlikely looking frontperson. I wonder if his unlikely-lookingness (oh. I have found a way to say it nicely) cost them fame and fortune? As it transpired, he had a serious accident where he broke his neck or something and they band sold all their equipment and started up computer shops (the story goes). Someone should do a sociological, and anthropological, study of the bands from various private school catchment cohorts. Machinations were all north shore, erm, St Ignatius or something? Not an Iggy reference. Cockroaches/Wiggles, where were they from? More working class catholic boys I think. Now we’re talking about it, poor Rowland S Howard, the only member of the Birthday Party/BND who wasn’t from Caulfield Grammar, but I guess he got lumped in with that shit. That’s the other thing Rage did on Saturday night – played a massive amount of Birthday Party in honour of RSH. A lot of BP but insufficient Crime and the City Solution or RSH solo, and maybe there just wasn’t that much video of that stuff though really I would have so much preferred C&CS to that hoary old BP guff which was awfully exciting in 1980 and I still love Junkyard and the subsequent EPs but shit, RSH was much more than a Nick Cave adjunct – he was, well, better by far. A charming and interesting man, too, in my experience of him.
My one RSH reminiscence, which has little to do with RSH himself but perhaps says something about the ambient myth: at one of the final Birthday Party shows (when the band came back to Aust without Mick Harvey and Des Hefner filled in) I was in the foyer with my friend Michael and we were talking and then he said, sh, here comes the most beautiful man in rock ‘n’ roll. It was RSH of course.
Pip Proud is recording some vocals to music by Kes Band next Sunday. Pip has a song called 'Slimy Fighters' to which he wants a dance piece performed probably best described by the song’s title. Pip is doing alright, all things considered (throat cancer for which the tumours have apparently stabilised; stroke; alcoholism). You could argue these things were if not caused by each in succession (in reverse order to which I have listed them) then they aided and abetted. He is on a lot of drugs and his radio won’t tune properly but he can get a distant, fuzzy News Radio which he loves and for which I say, thanks ABC.
Music myself I am still greatly enjoying the Dacios album (probably along with royalchord my pick for 2009, though I may have forgotten a few others) and continuing to love Emerson Lake and Palmer, not least for my discovery that shows my own innate dumbness and slowness to catch on and willingness to believe whatever stupid flip assessment was put before me by others, that ELP are yet another prog rock band who are decidedly unpofaced, all things considered, and often fairly witty or at least amusing. I enjoy that. Actually, my dismissal of ELP did not come just from my willingness to accept punkers’ evaluation of them; I did unwittingly see their Pictures at an Exhibition film about thirty years ago at the Valhalla and it kind of sort of made me think, there has to be more to rock music than this pretentious bollocks. I don’t know if I missed something then, or what. I like the self-titled album and of course Tarkus. Actually I love Tarkus. Tarkus is hott.
Who has memories of the Chevron? Is there a facebook group?







The other thing that was on Rock Arena was, excitingly, not one but two videos feat. Noah Taylor - I'm Talking's 'Trust Me' and Beargarden's 'Finer Things'. If I remember rightly these were Noah's first two filmic experiences, yes, even preceding Doggo Goes to Jail.

summer is a cumin in

hot bargain and milk

There is a shop in Bell Street, Preston called Hot Bargain and Milk. I was driving past it so I didn't get a chance to take a picture of it. Luckily about half an hour later I was able to take a picture of this elephant picture on a sack of basmati rice in Pascoe Vale Road Market. Enjoy!

and a bit i forgot

Unfinished, as yet.

props and plops

Props to - the Hume Learning Centre library, whereby I came into temporary possession of the autobiography of Les McKeown (of the Bay City Rollers): he uses 'couldnae' and 'didnae' throughout!
Plops to - whatever is making the middle finger of my left hand hurt. I'm sure it's not the chili from last week.
Props to - The New York Review of Books! It's tremendous!
Plops to - Bela, who is a stupid and annoying cat (as is clear from the picture above)
Props to - the other pets who are delightful except for
Plops to - Millie's habit of barking at the back door when she thinks she hasn't had sufficient morning attention
Props to - soda water. Who invented it!? Love 'em!
Plops to - this ill feeling in my stomach
Props to - Christos Tsiolkas
Plops to - the hole in my shoe. You can't see it? I have black socks on.
Props to - Elizabeth McCarthy.
Plops to - sleepiness
Props to - Michael K. Williams
Plops to - the church
Props to - the car heating up, having to drive to work.

so it's hot so what

I hear they're doing it even tougher in Adelaide. Well, we get through heatwaves: that's what Australians do. The one we're presently taking on in Melbourne this week is purportedly the hottest week since 1908 (years only went a week in the good old days). I mistakenly thought, when I first heard this, that my 99 year old grandmother Mavis would be the only person I knew who could verify this, then realised that of course she is 99, not 100, so while she might have experienced it in utero, she basically didn't.

I suffer more in extreme heat because I am naturally a very warm person; it's most uncomfortable and sad for me, and however others feel it's usually worse for me (this is true of practically anything). Well, plus the car radiator seems to be massively overheating too (what do you need a radiator for in a car anyway?) which makes it nervous to drive. Tomorrow I am going to brave public transport, which is most likely going to mean going very early and coming back quite late (i.e. avoiding the crush at peak hour). Wish me luck. I know you can't help yourself whether you want to or not.

By the way, I drank all the soda water in Melbourne. Sorry about that.

tired

I took two nighttime tabs a little while ago, and already it is making it difficult to type. Now I know what it’s like to be, oh, William Burroughs or some other junkie. You know, you take drugs to be creative and then you can’t even type. Anyway, everyone (as the girl who served me at Safeway tonight when I went to buy Mia some sour cream – her name was Lyndsay) has a fluey cold at the moment, and I am never one to miss out on a new trend, so here I am. I had a sore throat every morning for about four mornings, but each time I got over it, so I thought nothing more of it. And then at about 8 pm last night (Saturday, I’m typing this in bed actually, but won’t post it till Monday I guess) it hit me and I was down. In fact for the last 24 hours I have felt pretty alright, it’s just I’m crying all the time and of course my nose is running like… alright, no metaphors, too gross.

I am a bad diarist because it is really hard for me to remember things. Yesterday we went to see Emily Ferretti’s exhibition in Johnson St. There was a painting of a colander I really liked which luckily was on a postcard just inside the door. She had sold all the paintings anyway. Then we did some shopping at Pascoe Vale Road Market, always a pleasure. I took the dogs out to the park and we met a guy with a little white fluffy dog who Charlie would not stop barking at. The dynamics of Charlie’s world are too complex for me to even theorise about. All I know is she’s trying to defend the pack, because Millie won’t do it. The reason Millie won’t do it is she knows the pack is not under attack (I don’t know what she would do if the pack was genuinely under attack; I hope I never have to find out. Very occasionally she will discipline Charlie, with a front paw on the shoulder, but that’s as far as it goes). Charlie can’t seem to see this.

Down in our lake we have two black swans with three cygnets, and a pelican – and numerous little black ducks and some mallards too. Frogs as well, which sound like they have an echo chamber effect on them – not sure whether they’re underground or just croaking at walls.

Today we went to Ceres for my mother Jane’s birthday. We had Hot Indonesian Eggs and Laurie hurt his head on a rock. Jane retired on Friday which must be weird. I think I might retire too. She is going to get her puppy in about a month. She has already named him, Kenzie. He is a border terrier.

Some new characters are moving to the neighbourhood in a while, Nicole, Julian and little April have bought a house up the road. They are not moving in for 3 months. Christmas in Jacana they say.

I don’t know what else I have to tell you diary. I continue to live the life of an elderly child, attempting to read the minds of animals and also attempting to churn out obscure academic papers on seemingly random topics (seemingly? I must be having an out of body experience). Anyway the coldnflu tabs are obviously kicking in now as I can’t think so I will lie back and enjoy the trip.

yeah

just got back from dinner at korean restaurant drank a lot of plum wine ate korean food prior to that was at art prize award a good picture won it was well done now i can't believe the lame things people are searching on to get to this blog who the hell do you think you are and what did you do to desrve to walk pright and call yourself a human being to be from iceland and search on the internet for something as masssively pathetic as 'werry good porn' i am almost sorry i got sitemeter though in fact i am glad i was never greatly illusioined about humanitty just so you know however i woudl be extremely disillusioned if i had been 'werry good pron' indeed.

These typing errors are not fake but regardless i will fix them tomorrow.