| GIRL
| ARCHIVE
| BEYOND
| SHOP
when a salmon dies, does it know that it will be wrapped in a strip of prosciutto and roasted and served up alongside a pile of sauteed vegetables? will it take its revenge by cunningly concealing a larger than expected bit of cracked black pepper, so that midbite, a boy with a slightly cracked but otherwise intact tooth will hear a loud crack in his head, wash his mouth clear with a swig of pink grapefruit fizzy, and discover that said tooth is now a third smaller than it used to be?
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while i'm here, and while zucchini are like, $1.99 for a bundle of seven or eight, i could tell you to sautee some bacon, onion, garlic and cubed-up zucchini. add chicken stock and simmer. blenderise most of it and simmer a bit more. sprinkle with toasted flaked almonds. think about doing the same with a head of broccoli. mmm... green(ish) soups.
Served on Friday, April 30, 2004 at 08:47 a.m.
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anzac day continues...
a cross-continental conversation with nellie
nellie: um. are you working?
bowb: umm. sort of, but not really. it's a public holiday!
n: oh! is it anzac day?
b: eh! yah! how did you know?
n: because it's a biscuit!
b: ummm. yesss. but there isn't like, oreo day...
n: hngh. you can keep oreo day.
b: ... and there isn't tim tam day...
n: but there should be!
and with that the twinkies were off for three, count 'em, three hours. the phone company should start paying *us* money.
what to do after a marathon phone session, with ear hot and hand cramped into craw, than finish up my goddamn business activity statement, make a bacon, avocado and chutney (pear and fig) roll and walk briskly up to oxford street where the cinema is already quite packed with a holiday crowd ready to see "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind".
when joel says "i love you" to his last remaining fading memory of clementine, oh it brung a twinge to my nose.
and then, another brisk walk to pellagio providore for a litre of pink grapefruit fizzy and two bits of $4 (each!) turkish delight studded with pistachios and covered in white chocolate (sometimes if you're lucky, pink chocolate. today i am unlucky, but only just), and then on to infinity sourdough bakery for a walnut sourdough loaf swaddled in tissue like baby jesus.
sadly the only thing awaiting me after another powerwalk into the city, is a queue at kinko's while the toner is replaced in two photocopiers, and then once i am at the machine, another queue to get some paper for the machine. so. it takes half an hour to photocopy one double-sided business activity statement form.
happily what awaits me on returning home is a boy on the sofa who is quite agreeable to the idea of me buying him end-of-school-holiday dinner in the malaysian restaurant up the street. not only is there a flavoursome mee siam with an egg boiled for so long it has a grey circle around the yolk, there is also ice kacang with bits of jackfruit hidden in the bottom.
except for kinko's, best monday ever.
Served on Tuesday, April 27, 2004 at 08:18 a.m.
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anzac day was commemorated with a cup of tea and an anzac biscuit, while watching the tail end of a 50s war movie on tv. people sure spoke loudly and clearly in those days.
earlier in the day, during the televised parade of ancient diggers and their medals marching up george street, the question "what happens as they all die out? who'll take their place marching?" was answered with "there'll just be more wars".
the boy and i visited the australian war memorial museum in canberra a week and a bit ago. [could the hype-writers across the country please take note that this is the mark against which "world class" should be measured?] packed with relics and stories and dioramas, so many dioramas. scale models of battlefields. helmets all sieve-like with bullet holes. archival footage of a japanese child, still alive, whose back was skinned by an atom bomb.
it still surprises me, what people do to other people.
Served on Monday, April 26, 2004 at 07:47 a.m.
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road trip report
no, there was no easter road carnage. not involving us anyway, and surprisingly few incidents that involved squished marsupials. there was nary even an attempt to learn to drive (let alone start up the car) on my part. mainly, i handed out snacks and gazed out the window at brown and cows. ahh cows.
there were many tasty treats along the way, including such fabled delights as a curried prawn casserole for tea and a breakfast involving two kinds of sausages, bacon, fried eggs, toast, sweet tea and a surprise delivery of lambs fry (with bacon). there was a roasted loin of lamb wrapped in vine leaves perched atop a tomato and olive salad, drizzled with tzaziki, with a bowl of buttered vegetables on the side. there were pasties and sweet buns, and a pizza experience the likes of which may i please o please never have again. there were two sips of a yummy sparkling shiraz before my throat started to close. there was a kebab. there was a turkey and salad sandwich half the size of my head, and a strawberry thickshake. there was a fat burger from a takeaway shop in yass, which had a refrigerated counter full of coleslaw...
there were mountains, and walks up and down mountains, and valleys, and the magnificent murray river, and the bewildering national museum of australia in canberra. there were good times, dammit.
Served on Thursday, April 22, 2004 at 06:09 p.m.
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ah the wonder of easter that is everlasting salvation and chocolate mud donuts.
to the inexplicably loyal handful who show up here every day or so on the odds that there will be an update: this donut will have to last you all week, for i am an hour and a half away from taking my chances with the easter road toll.
hell, mentioning the all-week donut has reminded me of this story that i was told in primary school, so i'll leave that with you as well.
"a long time ago in china, there was a boy who, being the only child, was spoilt by his mother. she would do everything for him, even bathing him and feeding him right into his teenage years. as he neared adulthood, his mother was one day called away to another village. she was reluctant to leave her son all defenceless by himself, but she had no choice. as he was incapable of feeding himself, she thought the best thing to do was to make a large biscuit, which she tied to a string around his neck; all he had to do was move his head and take a bite when he was hungry. by her calculations the biscuit was big enough to last a week. the bathing could wait until she returned.
a week later she came through her front door to discover her son dead of hunger in his cot. the biscuit had only been eaten only a small way through. the son had been too lazy and stupid to use his hands to turn the biscuit round and had starved when his mouth could no longer reach beyond biting range."
yep. i don't know what they intended to learn us, but i'm sure it was meant to be character building. and just look at me now.
Served on GoodFriday, April 9, 2004 at 07:17 a.m.
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what i've been doing the last couple of days is making print ready artwork for a series of promotional posters for one of those reality tv shows in which twelve housemates get locked in a house with hidden cameras and then get voted off one by one over three months or so. these posters will be mounted three to a trailer which will be towed around the city streets, obstructing traffic and polluting the already toxic city air in more ways than one. for all this, i apologise.
in keeping with the tradition of having a celebratory breakfast to mark the completion of the job, i made this lovely spring-coloured toastie: thinly sliced avocado, salted and peppered, on wholemeal. i like green food.
Served on Thursday, April 8, 2004 at 08:46 a.m.
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on the inside of the cap of my bottle of apple-cranberry juice -- a juice so tart that after every slurp you have to pucker up and say "wooh!" -- is printed something called a "liddle fact™". this one states plainly, "fish can drown".
are the copywriters at the juice factory disgruntled? are they not supposed to be writing upbeat little morsels like the last one i got, about honey bees? truly, i am surprised.
what i also found surprising, the first seventeen times i saw it on tv, was the ad for new fanta spider. so, there's a japanese guy studying at his desk and suddenly he sneezes in the way that asian people do: no covering up of facial orifices, no turning away, just open-mouthed "ha-chaah". and out of his nose? mouth? springs a bottle of fanta. oh how i laughed.
"i must have one of those, " i said, as two bikini-clad girls popped out of a plastic orange and a plastic ice-cream cone-cup, chirping "it's fruity! and creamy".
and it really is. advertising has never been so truthful.
Served on Wednesday, April 7, 2004 at 08:05 a.m.
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waking up at 6.30 in the morning is wrong, more so when you've been waking up every two hours since 11.30 the night before. what with the clocks turning back to mark the end of summer time, the sun's way too brutal at 6.30 to be slept through anyway. oh when will the soothing darkness of winter be upon us? (please come back in winter to hear me complain about the sun that sets at 4.40 in the afternoon)
the 7am bowl of cereal (flakes of grains, plus raisins and apricots) will only be in its most literal sense, a break fast. what you'll really hang out for is the 11.30 burst of kitchen activity -- a flurry of mixing and boiling and slicing and stiring over low heat and toasting, that mere minutes later has you all twitchy with excitement and glee.
buttered toast with a scrambled egg, sliced tomato and avocado, all salted and peppered, and a cup of sweetish tea, and then just when you think it's all over, a crunchy anzac biscuit.
maybe in a few hours i could have waffles and syrup and bacon. what i need to do is make a button that says "breakfast all day".
Served on Friday, April 2, 2004 at 12:10 p.m.
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how i have scoffed at blogs that routinely post results of online quizzes, and how it has turned around and bitten me in the ass. but, i mean, who doesn't like cheese?
cheese test: what type of cheese are you?
[ via da*xiang ]
i am montery jack cheese! i am a soft, buttery, easily melting cheese. i am very shy and reserved and i easily blend in. i believe in fate and magick. or maybe...
i am camembert! i am a creamy, delicate tasting cheese. i am refined and graceful and very organised. as a very insightful cheese, i like to ponder the meaning of life.
what a friend we have in cheeses!
Served on Sunday, March 28, 2004 at 03:02 p.m.
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yesterday afternoon i closed a car door on my leg. sigh.
this is like, some sort of superturbo spring loaded car door which slams shut rather frighteningly if you so much as beckon it towards you once you're comfortably seated. this had happened enough times (three) in an afternoon that the boy, although not saying in so many words "you really don't have to slam the door so hard," at the last occurance, had uttered, "hmmm".
when we got home after our excursion to gardens 'r' us, i got out of the car and attempted to close the door quietly after myself by holding on to the handle and slowly, smoothly guiding the door along its arc. sadly, a momentary lapse in my depth of field perception meant that my leg was still in the range of the swinging door.
so, it wasn't like i slammed the door on my leg. more like the sharp corner on the bottom edge of the door was dragged slowly and smoothly across and into my flesh. oh the whimpering noises that ensued. the bent over double. the pleasant surprise that blood wasn't dribbling down my leg and puddling around my feet. instead, the curious bruise.
fortunately a couple of hours later i was distracted from this throbbing lump by an invitation to ms anna's house by the sea, where a video was rented and takeaway dinner procured. the video was "terminator 3", which was so unspectacular and tedious in parts that we could concentrate fully on the lavish spread, which was vietnamese, and included a serve of banh xeo [from wanderingspoon.com] complete with a plastic bag of fresh herbs for sprinkling. oh banh xeo, how i have longed for thee.
Served on Sunday, March 28, 2004 at 12:50 p.m.
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after an evening spent "self-medicating", the boy woke up to the 6.30 alarm, called in "sick", went back to bed, woke up again, had a slice of chocolate cake and said, "shall we go for a little adventure?" woohoo.
to get to mount tomah botanic garden you get to drive through the city, and then the north shore, and then the seminal suburbs of greater sydney, and then some farms, and then a couple of historic old towns, and then apple orchards, and then just the long and winding road up the mountain. there will be birdsong and the smell of green. when you arrive at the garden, hungry, you will discover that the kiosk is closed and that the only other option for luncheon is the fancy restaurant where a filled bagel will cost you $12, and anything else, much more. so you will walk around the shrubbery for a couple of hours, fueled only by a small package of lemon yoghurt candies.
when you find yourself weak with hunger and unable to unwrap another sweet, you will get back in the car and follow the windy road round to blackheath where one of you will acquire a big lot burger the size of a small marsupial, and the other, me, a steak sandwich of a more modest scale. both come with beetroot, hurrah! there will also be a pile of fat, hot chips sprinkled with chicken salt, and everything will be bundled up for a picnic in the park. later, when you throw a cold chip at a native bird, you may feel slightly disturbed that as well as probably more salt than a bird should consume, this bird is also eating bits of ground up chicken.
engh whattya gonna do. anyway, it is already late afternoon and there is still a mountain to climb halfway down to, a waterfall to gawk at, the upward journey, the drive back down the mountain, the rush hour city traffic, the three pieces of watermelon out of the fridge, the final slow climb up the stairs, the sinking into bed. all before 8.30.
i want to sleep for a week.
Served on Thursday, March 25, 2004 at 11:18 a.m.
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argh. what have i done?
which doesn't mean so much really. just that i know some road rules and will now be even more incensed when "licensed drivers" try their hardest to run me down in the street. and then there's the small matter of being able to see over the steering wheel. sigh.
still, to celebrate, summer rolls and rainbow drink at xic lo in chinatown, and then a mixed bag of buns for home.
Served on Wednesday, March 17, 2004 at 03:25 p.m.
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a tasty juice to have is pear, cucumber and ginger.
Served on Tuesday, March 16, 2004 at 08:02 a.m.
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sunday culminated in a waffle cone of badde manors sour cherry sorbet and pistachio gelato, and a detour into the side streets of ultimo to admire a row of decades old corrugated iron warehouses. before that, a two hour walk through the inner west to the inner inner west. before that, a big fat greek breakfast, which due to surprise "sydney weekender"-induced crowd delays, became brunch, which by the time it was served, became lunch.
whatever, it was tasty. "greek beans and scrambled eggs" on the menu, but plated up, it was beans (fat creamy white beans and al dente green beans) cooked in tomatoes and onions, eggy eggs, fried haloumi, avocado, baby spinach and a basket of turkish bread toast. oh, and a cup of tea. after which the boy's mother cheerfully said, "round the corner for cake and coffee?"
it is a sad and unprecedented day when i turn down cake, but i didn't think i would eat again until, um, tomorrow. obviously, three hours later, the ices proved me wrong.
saturday was napped away after crumpets and jam. i awoke midafternoon to stroll up to the corner and procure a fillet of snapper, a sweet potato and a little knob of ginger. a couple hours later, there were three bowls of fish porridge eaten as quickly as the scalding factor would allow, while watching potato battle on "iron chef".
friday ended dismally at the table of a portuguese restaurant in petersham. maybe because it had started on such a high -- double plates of pippis in garlic -- there was only one other direction for the evening to proceed.
so, there was this girl visiting from england, friend of a friend, who due to a bottle of wine, or the professional requirements of being a barrister, or something, could not stop talking. towards the end of the night, after the boy (to my right) started telling her about travelling through pakistan, she (to my left) thought it appropriate to cut me out of her line of sight, lean across me on several occasions, and gesticulate with her hands not five centimetres from my nose. she really wanted to go to pakistan to scatter her father's ashes, and to find pakistan and have it find her, and not be like when she went to india and was disappointed to not finally feel a sense of belonging, and --
oh bloody hell, shut up, and remove your hands from in front of my face, and your wine glass from my bit of table. no kiss goodbye for you when we all finally end up on the pavement at midnight. pah!
the oven roasted salt cod was meaty and good, and there were so many paprika-sprinkled potatotoes i couldn't even meet them halfway. if only i could have shared the cab back to the city with them, instead of non-stop talking indian barrister girl from the UK.
Served on Monday, March 15, 2004 at 05:49 p.m.
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the evening suddenly improved when the folk singer girl support act finally left the stage. it wasn't that she sang badly, and really, she only played her guitar out of key once. her banter seemed a little self-indulgent, given that if she had not chatted as much, she could have gotten off stage quicker. maybe it was just that we thought bruce cockburn would come on at 9.30, and since it was actually folk singer girl who started keening about war at that time, we figured that the show wouldn't be over until at least 11.30. way past bedtime. so not roskenroll. plus, it was like watching phoebe buffay.
the boy had said, as we walked up to the basement, "i hope he doesn't just play all new songs." having heard none of anything, they would all be new to me. it turned out that they were all things of beauty. how does a man play a guitar and make it sound like two guitars and a bass? and with just ten fingers! and what's with that "sufi-rockabilly"? i was torn between wanting to listen to him all night, and wanting to go home to bed. fortunately, two encores took us past bruce's bedtime too, so he said.
(i'm a poet and i don't even know it)
midnight, i was finally able to step away from the annoying angelica houston lookalike who over the course of the show had been stepping backwards and backwards and rubbing her ass on me and flicking her scrubby ponytail into my face and sticking her handbag into my arm. but even she couldn't spoil the big night out. yay bruce!
also, in an attempt to reverse the blood donation-induced anaemia, i had a hamburger (with beetroot) for lunch. all round, a pretty good day.
Served on Friday, March 12, 2004 at 08:11 a.m.
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happy cake news! an end-of-day grocery and noodle soup excursion to chinatown resulted in the reliving of the very cake that caused such cake-fueled hysteria late last year.
and also, krispy kreme finally opens a store in sydney. but not until may. ntch.
Served on Thursday, March 4, 2004 at 04:55 p.m.
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that scene in "spirited away", at the beginning, where chihiro's parents stumble upon a deserted foodstall, an exotic feast spread upon the front counter. all manner of small roasted bird and fatty... um... pork? chihiro's father sucks a large sacklike thing into his mouth. it looks moist and succulent and quite oily, i guess like a stewed eggplant. i think that i will never tire of watching this.
there were no mystery meats for me this morning, although i did get through that scene -- and the one of the soot creatures' feeding time -- over two slices of black rye toast with maple syrup, and a cup of tea. after two bits of toast i felt like another. maybe for lunch. after some drawing.
at the other end of the lunch simplicity scale: a few days ago i bought a futo maki at david jones foodhall. the process in itself is simple enough. however you wouldn't expect that a little round of rice and other bits rolled up in nori would contain this:
would you?
Served on Tuesday, March 2, 2004 at 12:08 p.m.
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yes, the toll of (very bad) reality tv on the commercial networks is all too much to bear, and i've taken refuge in old fashioned documentaries. "wild australasia" on the weekend, for example, had some amazing footage of a billion sardines being herded towards mealtime against the west australian shore, by several hungry sharks and a speedy tuna. oh the drama! plus, it made me want sardines, grilled, now.
but has anyone else been watching the documentary series, "our boys" on the abc? it's about students from a public school in mid-western sydney, which seems to be the antithesis of the kings school as portrayed in that documentary series of a few years ago. where the kings school boys la-di-dahed their way through gilbert and sullivan, the boys at canterbury high struggle to wrap their heads around basic english.
it's sad to watch. the teachers are almost too dedicated and caring, and the boys are up against... well, a lot of the time, themselves i guess. (i used to watch "heartbreak high" and i thought the wise-cracking, disruptive student was a dramatisation, but it actually is infuriatingly true.) but also, poverty and a lack of resources and not very much to look forward to. and private schools get more government funding, why?
so i think this series is halfway through. one episode tonight, and another next tuesday. i want there to be happy endings dammit.
Served on Tuesday, February 24, 2004 at 05:30 p.m.
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i'm tired. everything hurts.
this blog quietly became a year old. happy birthday, mr blog.
Served on Monday, February 23, 2004 at 05:49 p.m.
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i'm in the middle of an illustration job at the moment, and until an hour ago had been in that limboland where the client has the sketch you sent them late last night, and has yet to tell you whether or not to get back to the drawing board.
turns out all is good. phew.
the illustration incorporates a child's drawing, in fact a simulated child's drawing, by me. this is a challenging prospect because it usually irritates me when i see "child's drawings" in television ads or whatever, where the artwork has obviously been made by a grownup art director. maybe i need to instigate some regression by watching some children's daytime tv and eating chocolate biscuits.
on my desk i have my long-neglected box of crayolas. the smell of the (nontoxic) wax is intoxicating.
someone help me before i pull a ralph wiggum.
Served on Wednesday, February 18, 2004 at 11:22 a.m.
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oh how distracting. just as i was about to put an end to the day's procrastination, my doorbell rang and a postman handed me a large brown padded envelope. inside, "optic nerve 9" and "summer blonde", a collection of optic nerves past. i am joyous and lucky, and at the same time, doomed.
thank you, nellie.
Served on Monday, February 16, 2004 at 04:49 p.m.
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what better thing to do on a weekend where it's too hot to even think, than try and learn about implementing css.
sure. you might put forth the option of strolling into your local gelatissimo store and availing yourself of the yumminess on offer. there's a secret deal at the moment where if you say to the cashier, "gelatissimo is yummissimo" he will smile at you in a way that doesn't make you feel like a dill, and then he will give you a pretty alright discount.
but having already done that yesterday, i thought a day at mr. computer would be equally fun. so. here we are. a new layout. i was aiming to get it done in about a week, when this blog turns a year old, but i was editing and uploading and suddenly it was all up there.
does this text look inordinately small and illegible to you?
Served on Sunday, February 15, 2004 at 04:21 p.m.
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some days the air is so warm and moist that your armpits are no longer just armpits, they are pits of hell. is there a steaming carcass tucked up there? something that crawled inside and died?
on such a day, it would be wise to catch an airconditioned bus to the airconditioned cinema, where you can see infernal affairs. you will bite your nails down to just before it starts to hurt. you will stop breathing a few times, it gets so exciting. my word was i excited!
in the dark you might have a bottle of apple-cranberry juice and a tofu nori roll, and you will have tony leung chiu wai, surely the most handsome chinese man in the world (sometimes the most handsome man ITW fullstop, depending on what sort of day keanu and jude are having).
your armpits will thank you.
Served on Wednesday, February 11, 2004 at 07:38 a.m.
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ah the long lazy days of summer continue. yesterday saw a quick jaunt into the city, where fat, glistening salmon fillets were purchased, alongside a package of chilli linguini and a bunch of mint. later that evening, they all came together rather spectacularly in this manner.
quote from the boy: that was the best meal you ever made.
also acquired at the time of the salmon was a tub of parsley and fetta pesto, which came together equally spectacularly this afternoon, though on a more modest scale, sandwiched with cucumber between rye.
mmm... green...
Served on Thursday, February 5, 2004 at 07:51 p.m.
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an hour later, the last of the lamington sponge and a cup of tea. it puts a silver lining on any cloudy, sodden laundry situation.
Served on Wednesday, February 4, 2004 at 09:09 a.m.
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there is nothing sadder than rows of sodden laundry hanging from the clotheslines on my balcony. after hours of sunshine and clear sky cunningly lured me into doing a load of washing yesterday evening, it suddenly began to rain. and rain. and rain. sporadically through the night, and now into this greyness that we call morning.
Served on Wednesday, February 4, 2004 at 08:10 a.m.
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sometimes it's nice when clients take their time getting back to you, because that means you can take the morning off and see the shag exhibition at the opera house and the tracey moffat exhibition at the mca, and in between, a show of sydney object design, in what was up until a few months ago, some secret walled-up space underneath the sydney opera house. cool.
the moffat show was particularly worthy because it included every piece of her various series [what is the plural of 'series'?] of photographs. whenever i've seen her stuff in the past it's usually been just one picture out of a set, so today was the first time i experienced the full narrative element of her work. i felt better for it.
i'd usually rather see a drawing show than a photography one, but goshdarnit i like that tracey moffat, especially her "scarred for life" series. i'm even going back in to see the screenings of her films (there is only so much art a girl can see in a day), which is saying a lot really, because my standard reaction to the phrase 'experimental film / video art' is... not a pretty sight. i think the key is 'narrative'. so call me linear, dammit.
lunchtime midafternoon saw me perched at a counter in a foodhall with three nori rolls, popular music from vittula and a gloria jeans tim tam iced chocolate. everything was tasty and extremely satisfying.
Served on Tuesday, February 3, 2004 at 10:21 p.m.
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via alia, it has come to my attention that this week, starting today, is national donut week. bittersweetly, it is actually national "doughnut" week, because it's happening in the uk.
sigh. how can it be that australia does not have an initiative that lets you save the children with every donut you eat?
Served on Saturday, January 31, 2004 at 11:35 a.m.
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bleary-eyed, claggy-mouthed, stumbling through the local mall to get the weekend paper when -- good lord! i was jolted awake by the wanton display of cream-filled lamington sponges in the glass case at michel's patisserie. eight-inch rounds of sponge cake and chocolate and dessicated coconut, sandwiched around what seemed like a litre of fresh whipped cream. there was no reason why this could not be part of a healthy saturday breakfast.
and what's this, just beyond the wall of cake? my boss from an era past, toby, and his luminescent child, alice. we were all always dazzled by the girl's beyond pale skin, and her sparkly eyes, and her mermaid hair, all goldiblonde tendrils halfway down her back. this morning she was dressed up as a fairy, waiting for a plastic ornament not unlike herself to be placed on a cake. "i go to big school now," she said.
toby's got a new book out. it's pink!
Served on Saturday, January 31, 2004 at 11:04 a.m.
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breakfast: three little bits of new norcia bakeries fig and fennel sourdough toast (my souvenir from western australia), spread with yoghurt cheese. orange juice.
Served on Thursday, January 29, 2004 at 02:45 p.m.
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it's only a good thing when you step aboard a boat and minutes later a chipper crew member is offering you a cup of tea and a bit of apple cake. little do you know, at this stage, that just hours later you will also be offered, amongst other tasties, crayfish and soft rolls and salad, with which you can make a proficient crayfish and capsicum sandwich, to be eaten in a sunny spot on deck, where you will still be trying desperately to become warm after a short paddle in the icy waters off rottnest island.
yes, a whirlwind trip to perth can surprise you, with a boat of guys, who if not exactly "great" are definitely good; with your father willingly accompanying you to the art gallery; with your sixth aeroplane flight since christmas not being that one that kills you by plummeting out of the sky...
early on in the game, your host says approvingly, in the presence of your father, "your dad is really laid back isn't he?". this is the most surprising of all, and you can only stutter, after a pause, eyes darting, "um, well, i guess he has his moments."
Served on Wednesday, January 28, 2004 at 11:29 a.m.
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happy chinese new year of the monkey!
in a jetsetting turn of events, i am about to fly to perth, to hang out with my father, aboard a "ship (apparently quite luxurious)" and a "bunch of guys [who] are just great to be with". it turns out the guys are eight or ten stockbrokers and a real estate dealer.
help me, smee.
Served on Thursday, January 22, 2004 at 12:19 p.m.
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so. trying to stick to this plan of watching less crap tv (already slightly fallen off the rails by watching half of "the bachelor" two nights ago), it occurred to me that i should go to the strokes show instead.
the morning's quest to purchase a ticket was initially unsuccessful. stepping off the bus and into the tail end of the post christmas sales, it wasn't so long before i had two tins of half price christmas biscuits (amarettini limone and fruit-studded, chocolate-covered gingerbread, probably still costing more than biscuits should), two hats (an orange bucket hat, and a blue hat similar to the orange except with a much wider brim) and a pair of jeans (dark denim with pink stitching, i suspect they are a capri style, but on me the length is perfect!). fortunately i came to my senses and ignored my need to buy a scott joplin cd, and suddenly i had a strokes ticket.
my reservation about paying $72 to see the strokes, is that on the record, at least in terms of aesthetics and production, they seem like a $30 band, tops. and what good is a burgeoning australian dollar if the pleasing exchange rate doesn't translate to cheaper concert tickets? still i was determined to watch less crap tv!
+
five minutes before the band goes on, a girl in front of me whips around, her eyes roll up and she's on the ground. her boyfriend carries her off the dancefloor and the crowd moves in to fill the space. there are lots of short people at the show, hurrah, so five or six metres from the stage is a pretty good place to be, pointy-elbowed girls with flippy hair not withstanding. the band strut... amble on and play a clash song -- "this is a clash song, by the way" -- and then it's "this song is called 'reptilia'", and then
du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh...
there is good-natured banter and a thought-provoking lightshow (so *that's* where the money goes), and on-the-spot boppping on my part, and all too soon julian stroke is bargaining with the audience how many more tunes the band will play: "*ten* more? we don't have that many songs." so it's three. two. one. and they're gone in a cloud of feedback. cheering for encores? feh. they've milked all the adulation during the show.
am i gushing? well, yes. ROCK!
Served on Thursday, January 22, 2004 at 12:27 a.m.
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what aerodynamic piece of food can you throw a pelican, just so you can see him open his beak wide and snatch it from its trajectory?
yesterday an afternoon jaunt to centennial park saw mss amber and ella berry and me amusing ourselves with a host of pelicans, quite a few water fowl, some ducks and a few swans. sensing lunch, the pelicans swoop out of the sky, across the lake and right into the throng of smaller birds, their beaks like awnings over the heads of the others. hanging open. feed me.
we threw them stale baguettes, crusts cut from vegemite sandwiches, a few crumbs of polenta cake, and three jalsberg sandwiches.
Served on Wednesday, January 21, 2004 at 6:12 p.m.
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if you only knew how many people there are out there googling "girls e@ting sh!t" and its various combinations and permutations... and how many of them find their smeary brown way to this so un-smutty page, because i just don't learn.
in an unexpected turn, someone quite recently ended up here searching for "girls e@ting worms". oh how we laughed, bitterly. the audience of this page is just not what i was hoping for.
*sigh*
dinner will cheer me up: puffy tofu, snow pea shoots and baby bok choy in oyster sauce corn starch gravy, over rice.
Served on Monday, January 19, 2004 at 06:56 p.m.
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ah chinatown. where there will always be a happy chef beaming as he pushes a bowl of noodles and wontons towards you. where you will be elbowed by chinese grannies down in the markets, but it will all be made better with a $1.20 bagful of deep red tomatoes and a $1.50 fourpack of corn. and just for today, a pride of gold and silver lions roaming the streets, pulling lettuces off shop awnings, tossing their large felty-tinsely heads at passers-by.
in recent years, this question has surfaced each time chinese new year rolls around: why, amongst the piano lessons and maths tuition classes, did my mother not insist i also attend lion dance practice? now, standing on street corners in the presence of these magical beasts in their kung fu shoes, surrounded by the support team of drummers, cymbalists, pole bearers and other big sweaty dudes, i feel a sense of exhiliration, and yearning.
i too could run free like these lions, no?
running away and joining a lion dance troupe is my new second tier new year's resolution. ahead in the list:
- draw
- draw comics
- read books
- watch less crap tv
- get back to yoga
- see friends
- be nicer
- cook meat
Served on Sunday, January 18, 2004 at 06:07 p.m.
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some things that were eaten in tasmania, where it's 12° in summer and where people drive *old* minis, were: a slice of pink cake, a wagon wheel, and a lamb roast with such accompanying vegetables as roasted parsnip and crumbed cauliflower. also: large flavorsome strawberries, small tart apricots, and yummy yummy cherries. a lamington filled with cream and jam. a venison pie. a baked apricot custard slice. an esmerelda, which is a ball of dessicated coconut covered in hard toffee. a dark chocolate cup, filled with berries and covered in double cream.
why o why are the old people of tasmania so damn grouchy? because they lack the teeth to eat nothing but porridge?
Served on Saturday, January 17, 2004 at 05:08 p.m.
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so. the day of the chocolate. back story: having been cheated out of the max brenner chocolate bar experience while nellie was upon us several months ago, the twinkies, reunited and powerful once again in singapore, cleverly steered a mos burger lunch date towards a max brenner chocolate dessert.
o so innocent. chocolate drinks were chosen, chocolate cheesecake was summoned. ten minutes after the imbibing began, the chocolate hit the bloodstream and we were undone. there were lights going off in our heads, which felt soft and floppy on our necks. we could not stop giggling. the chocolate bar was empty but for us that afternoon; who knows what madness ensues when it's packed out with the pre-post-theatre crowd. in any case, the two shopgirls hung back a safe distance. we were INSANE with chocolate.
lunch-and-dessert-date excused herself mid-hot chocolate to return to work, but we later received word that she had died... well, not quite died, but the sugar allergy she'd had since childhood and kept hidden from us, kicked in and incapacitated her for two days. the twinkies ended up finishing cake and beverages, indulged in some therepeutic lolling, and then propelled ourselves forward to wreak havoc on the city.
Served on Saturday, January 17, 2004 at 04:19 p.m.
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always, after some time away, what with having had all your meals cooked for you or bought for you, it's hard to get back into the kitchen to try and scrape together a meal with whatever lurks in the depths of your pantry. still awaiting the major shoping trip, the fridge offers nothing except a door of sauces and a centimetre of milk in the bottom of a litre carton that the boy thoughtfully left in the fridge awaiting your return while he climbs a mountain back in tasmania. of course there are several bars and bags and lumps of chocolate in there, but even you, sugar glider, need something more salty and garlicky sometimes.
on this occasion you will be lucky, and there will also be a hunk of cheese on a shelf: peppercorn-studded pecorino, and hurray, still unmouldy. with a pool of olive oil, three cloves of old garlic chopped up, two handfuls of rocket that you bought on the way home from picking up the holiday snaps, and some spaghetti, you will soon have a bowl of lunch.
Served on Saturday, January 17, 2004 at 03:50 p.m.
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happily, this morning i awoke in my own bed. it feels like i have been away for a very long time, even though it has really only been twenty days.
back in my childhood bed in the family home in singapore, my first couple of nights were graced between the hours of two and four by a swarm of mosquitoes descending on my extremities (including 'head'). soon i was no longer distinguishable from the hapless heartland kids with the scabbies dotted up and down their legs. the midnight feasts only stopped when i moved into my good mother's bedroom, where she sleeps, gently snoring, after meditating -- sitting bolt upright on a cushion, facing the wall, in air conditioned comfort. sleeping in an air conditioned room makes me feel unwell.
and then several nights in a tent in tasmania, before a last night in a damp-smelling room above a pub. not that reassuring quiet dankness of moss-covered forest undergrowth, but the funky odour that makes you suspect something has gone wrong with the plumbing in the attached bathroom. damp-smelling rooms make me feel unhappy.
but now, hurrah, my bed and i are reacquainted. to celebrate i shall be taking four naps, one after the other. and then maybe i'll tell you about the day of the chocolate in singapore, and about the baked goods (every day, oh yes!) in tasmania.
Served on Friday, January 16, 2004 at 01:44 p.m.
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via nellie: what is brown and sticky? a stick.
[ beat ]
so the new year traffic to this site has been from a bunch of people googling:
- girls e@ting sh!t
- sh!t e@ting girls
- sh!t e@ting japanese girl
- japanese girls e@ting sh!t
- sh!t e@ting video
- women sh!t e@ting japanese
- e@ting w0rms japanese video, and also
- feet toes licking pictures nice ladies movies
i'm just arsking for it now aren't i? sigh. why do i feel sullied? all of y'all looking for the cr@p-e@ting chicks... there aren't any here! you should be ashamed of yerselves. shudder. if you visit the yoghurt archives there are many, many eating stories, most of them involving a girl (me) and all of things eaten so much more palatable and nutritious than sh!t. do yerselves a favour.
Served on Wednesday, January 7, 2004 at 02:30 p.m.
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Served on Thursday, January 1, 2004 at 09:22 a.m.
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