drift

444

2010-04-14T21:31:00.005+10:00

I checked in tonight to see if I'd had any visitors since I posted yesterday and then I remembered it was four years ago today that I first started drift. The subject of my first post back in 2006 was Scotty, an ex-boyfriend, who has a birthday today. I thought about ringing him (we keep in touch from time to time) to wish him a happy birthday, but decided against it. Last time I heard from him (in January) he was back on the booze and wanting to come and stay with me (he lives in Sydney). I said he could come for a visit, but then I never heard from him. I partly decided not to call him tonight because it's time to move on. There have been a lot of changes in my life since we split, but Scotty repeats the same old patterns - from sobriety to being wasted (which is when I usually hear from him). I care about him, but I want to try something different and that means I'm not going to contact him just yet. I'll wait a little longer for him to call me and hopefully when he does he'll have made some worthwhile changes in his life.

Now, next time you hear from me I'll let you know about some of the changes I've made in my life...

time

2010-04-13T20:41:00.002+10:00

Has it really been that long since I last blogged? Every now n then I check in to see if anyone's stopped by and I think it's either time to start blogging again or to put drift out of its misery once and for all. Well, I'm not ready to call it quits just yet. I just don't have regular access to the net like I once did so this sporadic blogging is the way it'll be for a little while longer.

I'm house sitting for a fortnight so I have access to the net for a change and if I have something worthwhile to say I'll be sure to come up with a post. Last time I was here I checked all the links I've got to other blogs and it seems I'm not the only one who's drifted away from the blogosphere. I wonder where everyone went...

One blogger in particular I'm wondering about today is Litzi, my friend from Melange. See, it's Litzi's birthday today and I couldn't let the opportunity pass without wishing her all the best. Of course I have no idea if she'll pop in for a visit, but I'm hoping she will. Happy Birthday Litzi, hope all is well in your neck of the woods and I'm crossing my fingers you'll stop by for a visit. If you do happen to find your way here why don't you send me an email so I can keep in touch with you more easily (seeing as you no longer have a blog).

As for the rest of you, thanks for visiting and I hope to catch up with you again some time

cobwebs

2009-11-09T14:03:00.002+11:00

Hello? Is there anybody in here?

I thought it might be time to dust off the cobwebs and make an appearance in the blogosphere. Crikey it's been a long, long time, but it's good to know people stop by every now n then to check out whether or not I'm still kicking.

A lot has happened since my last post. Bring a bottle over sometime and we'll have a catch up. In the meantime I just wanted to let you know I'm still around and if I've got something to say I'll blog about it. As I'm feeling a bit rusty right now I've decided to post some thoughts from my friend (and sometime blog collaborator) Gypsy. We've been writing to each other for 2 1/2 years now and I'm happy to report he's doing fine - just been reclassified and is now on Minimum Custody, which means he has a lot more benefits. Check out his post and I'll be sure to pass any comments on to him...

I'll be back with a feather duster shortly

man made hell

2009-11-09T13:23:00.002+11:00

Sometimes I sit here and wonder where I went wrong. How did I end up in this man made hell? Why? Why did I have to take the path that would lead me to wasting my life? The years seem to fly by; the wasted years of my life.

Am I the type of person who should be hidden from society? How many years of my life should be taken before I am considered reformed? I came here for a violent crime, but deep down inside I know in my heart I'm not the violent type. I've lived the last eleven years of my life with the regret of what I once did in a past life, my past life. Maybe, just maybe, that is why I go so far out of my way to stop the violence in here - to try to right the wrongs I did in my own life.

Now, in here there seem to be two types of people - those who hate me and those who love me. The ones who hate me do so because I don't know how to mind my own business, which means I don't let them prey on the weak. The others - the preyed upon - are just glad to have someone rescue them.

For eleven long years I've dwelled on my past life, my past crime. Was that really me? As I look back on that night in July '98 it really does not seem it could be eleven years that I've had to live with the regret that I let myself harm another human being. As I look at myself today it doesn't really seem possible. I won't even hurt or kill a spider (I have three of them that live in the corner of my prison cell and I feel they have as much right to be here as I do. Maybe even more).

I've suffered for the past eleven years for a crime I've always deemed self defence. But was it really self defence? Could I have defended myself without hurting the other person or am I truly like those other animals I am forced to live with who hurt a person just because they can? I would like to believe that I only did what I did to save myself. But saving myself put me here for-how-long-I-have-no-idea. And when I do get out will I be like so many others and come right back to this man made hell because I now no longer know of another way to live? Has prison changed me so much that I won't be able to adapt back to the free world? Are my fears real or are they just my mind working double time? I guess I'll never know until the day I am finally released from this man made hell

Gypsy

tutu

2008-04-14T23:16:00.003+10:00

I'm still without the net at my new home, but fortunately I'm visiting my Mum* in Croydon tonight so I'm able to say hi to anyone who still might be reading... It just happens to be this blog's second birthday today and I couldn't let the day pass without making mention of it. I'm hoping to be back on deck very soon otherwise what's the point of having a blog? Hmmm

drift isn't the only place where there's a birthday. It's also happy milestone birthday to Miss Litzi over at the Tea Room... er Melange. Hope you had a great day Miss Litzi and I wish I could've been there to celebrate with you!

HIP HIP HOORAY!

*Dad's gone fishin' for the week

home

2008-02-29T21:08:00.003+11:00

About 7 months ago I was on the phone to my Mum when I mentioned I was thinking of returning to Melbourne. After 7 years living in Sydney I'd reached a point where I began questioning what was keeping me there. My Mum told me she and my Dad were travelling around Australia for 4 months and if I wanted to I could house-sit for them while they were away. That's pretty much how I ended up back in Melbourne, back home...

Life was going along at a leisurely pace for a while, but that changed about a fortnight ago. I moved out of my parent's house to a share house (with one other person and a dog) in St Kilda and I got myself a job in a bookstore. I moved on the weekend of the 16th/17th and before I had time to unpack all my boxes (mostly books) I started work on the 19th. So once again life has been hectic. The same week I started work I decided to treat myself to a 6 film pass to see some Gus Van Sant films. Even less time at home to unpack. I saw the last of the 6 films - Elephant - tonight then I raced home so I could post on this once-in-4-years day. Actually I didn't race home, I came straight to my friend and neighbour's house to use his computer (and internet) while he's out seeing Margaret Cho. I haven't got the net on at home yet. No wonder I've been absent from the blogosphere

Oh, this week I also started a screenwriting course. It's all happening. I've got a new home, a new job and a new beginning. My leap of faith is paying off. And as soon as I'm back on the net you'll be hearing a lot more from me...

bullies - conclusion

2008-02-12T12:22:00.000+11:00

It's me again - Gypsy. When I first decided to do my guest appearance on drift I had no idea I would decide to do a series. Well I guess whoever has been keeping up with this may wish to know how everything turned out in the end. So here goes...

In the end Big Mike got 15 days Solitary for the two fights. He got out of Solitary and the next day Ashly and he got back together. So once again they are a couple. I've seen Big Mike. He shook my hand and told me "thank you" for stopping him; told me that sometimes he scares himself and can't control his anger. I just looked him in the eye and I told him you don't hurt the one you love. I told him if you love that boy keep your hands off him period. All he did was look at me. We have not talked since that day nor has Ashly spoken to me. I think maybe Ashly is ashamed of the fact that he went back to Big Mike after I saved him. Who knows?

Sometimes I wonder why I can't seem to mind my own business. I mean, every time I stop a fight it seems like it doesn't do any good. Who am I to try to save the world? I'm in prison, just as they are, but it's like there are two of me and when I see somebody who does not wish to fight being made to fight I step up and say to hell with it, "He does not wish to fight you, but I will." Sometimes the fight ends there, sometimes I have to fight. And I really can't stand to fight.

Ashly went back to Big Mike and I'll never for the life of me understand why. I just hope next time he doesn't hurt Ashly as he tried before 'cause you don't hurt the one you love

Gypsy

2008

2008-01-07T15:04:00.000+11:00

G'day everyone and welcome to 2008. Glad you could make it. In the non-cyber world I'm still writing "December" even though I should be writing "January". At least I get the year correct. Things can only get better...

I will make an effort to post a lot more this year, so you'll just have to keep watching. In the meantime, Gypsy has sent his responses to comments on his "bullies" post (I see Miss Litzi is on the ball!) and he's also written a part II

Happy New Year!

bullies II

2008-01-07T14:20:00.000+11:00

Everybody should remember me from my last guest appearance on drift, but if not I'm known as Gypsy

Well, a few weeks ago I almost got into a lot of trouble with the prison guards for stopping a fight with a bully they call Big Mike and his boyfriend who goes by the name Ashly. Ashly got a new gay cellmate who had just been transferred to this unit. Big Mike straight off assumed that they had to be messing around so he told Ashly's new cellmate that he had to move out of the cell he shared with Ashly or he was going to beat him up. Well about 10 minutes or so later the picket boss lady told Big Mike to put his shirt on or she would write him a case (a case is what the guards write up to put us on restriction for breaking the rules and we can lose commissary privileges, recreation privileges etc). Well Big Mike flips off the picket boss lady and tells her to F off. So she tells him he now has a case for sure. So Big Mike starts yelling "You going to write me a case? You going to write me a case? Here, write this up" and he runs over to Ashly's cellmate who happens to be sitting down, knocks him to the ground and kicks at his face. Then he runs over to Ashly and yells "Here, write this up." He hits Ashly, knocks him to the ground and tries to stomp his head in.

So once again without even thinking about what I was doing I jump up, yank my shirt off and yell at Big Mike "Stop now. If you wish to still fight then fight me. Leave them both alone now or I'll deal with you myself." He stops, he looks at me crazy. He tells Ashly he loves him and is sorry. Ashly gets brave now that I am on his side. He gets in Big Mike's face yelling "F you. Fight him, fight Gypsy. He wants to fight you. Don't be scared now. You don't want to fight Gypsy cause you are a coward and he's a man. Fight Gypsy."

Well Big Mike goes into the stairway to build his courage then he yells "Gypsy, this is the second time you have gotten in my business. Let's do this." (meaning fight). So I brace myself for the fight to come. He runs up and stops again and decides not to fight me. So now the guards finally get here after taking their sweet time, see me without a shirt etc and throw me in handcuffs. In the end they find out I was the one who stopped everything. I got in no trouble - only got sent back to my cell - and I've not yet seen Big Mike again. Hopefully I don't...

dolly christmas

2007-12-25T09:24:00.000+11:00

I'd like Dolly on top of my Christmas tree

Wishing you all a peaceful silly season and a rowdy new year

Love & Blessings
Nash xx

bullies

2007-12-05T23:41:00.000+11:00

This is my first - and hopefully not my last - guest appearance on drift. They call me Gypsy and I am in a prison in the American state of Texas...

Sometimes I sit back and I contemplate why grown men feel like they have to be bullies and pick on weaker men who cannot fight or defend themselves. It's wrong. It doesn't matter if we're in prison or not - it still should not give grown men the right to act like children. A while back I had a gay friend who goes by the name Paloma. Well he got involved with what I like to call the "so-called straight man" (which is a person who was not gay before they came to prison yet who comes in here and starts messing with a gay man and still calls himself "straight". Yeah, right). Well this so-called straight man had a bad habit of trying to run the life of my friend Paloma and told Paloma he had no choice but to be with him - which is wrong. A person should not be able to force another person to be with him regardless if we gays are the minorities in prison or not

So as not to bore all you readers (and to make a long story short) I stepped in and made the so-called straight man leave Paloma alone - which I should not have had to do, but bullies will be bullies and most bullies truly are cowards. Now Paloma is free from the bonds of the bully even though the bully still gives us both evil looks. I just wish more people would stand up and put an end to the bullies who try to run most prisons

Gypsy

immagine a found confirm

2007-11-19T00:00:00.000+11:00

I'm bored by this whole silly thing now, but here's an update...

Oh goodness me dearest Essoh,
I didn't realise you wanted to come and live with me. I thought you'd just be popping in for a visit. I've prepared some scrumptious hash cookies

You say we are going to archive this great aim. But where will we archive it? I hope you're not wanting to store anything at my parents' house as I already have too many boxes here as it is and there simply isn't the room. And what if I want to spend the $$$ rather than invest it? Is this going to be a problem because if it is I need you to be up front and honest with me. Thanks ducky

Hope to hear from you sooner than you can say scam

Love Nash xx
PS Where's my photo as requested?

And then he wrote...

Dear Nash

I got your mail and i want you to understand me very well i did not say i will come and live with you in your contry i say that as soon as the found is confirm into your account i will come to meet you for sharing of the percentage and investiment that is what i said. however if realy you want to work with me and get this found confirm into your account you should open up your mind and remove any nagetive thinking or immagination in you so that we can build confidant and trust to archive this deal. as soon as i hear from you i will send you text of application which you shall fill and send to the bank as the first step of the transaction.

Thanks
Essoh

I put the Google on Essoh and (apart from my post) the only thing I found was a penpal listing from six years ago when he was 14. When I realised how young he is I kind of felt sorry for him. Then I thought, Jeez, for a youngster he's worked his way up through the bank pretty quickly. Hmmm, maybe I should work with him and get this found confirm in my account (it could do with a boost)

carculated?

2007-11-14T19:55:00.000+11:00

I receive quite a lot of junk mail at this email address, which I normally just delete without reading. Today, however, I decided to have a read of an email from someone who trusts me. And this is what he wrote:

FROM THE DESK OF KARL ESSOH
AUDITING AND ACCOUNTING MANAGER
BANQUE ATLANTIQUE-OUAGADOUGOU
BURKINA FASO.

Trust/Confidential proposal
Dear Friend,

Please this is important and very urgent i have an urgent transaction of US$20.6 million, used to transfer to your nominated account,I am Mr Karl Essoh. The Auditor, with Accounting Department of the BANQUE ATLANTIQUE-OUAGADOUGO BURKINA FASO.

After going through some old files in the records, I discovered that if I do not remit this money out urgently it will be forfeited for nothing. The owner of this account unfortunately died in the plane crash of Union Transport Africans Flight Boeing 727 in Cotonou, Benin republic on the december 25th ,2003. You will read more stories about the crash on visiting this website www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/12/26/benin.crash/

No other person knows about this account or any thing concerning it,the account has no other beneficiary and my investigation proved to me as well that his company does not know anything about this account and the amount involved is ($USD20.6 M) Twenty million Six Hundred Thousand United States Dollars Only.

I want to transfer the ($USD 20.6 M) Twenty Million Six Hundred Thousand United States Dollars only into a safe foreigners account abroad , but I don't know any foreigner, I am only contacting you as a foreigner because this money can not be approved to a local bank here, but can only be approved to any foreign account because the money is in US dollars and the former owner of the account is a foreigner too.
I know that this message will come to you as a surprise as we don't know our selves before,but be rest assure that this is life time business for both of us even for our generation to come.

With believe in God that you will never let me down in this business.You are the only person that I have contacted in this business,so please reply urgently so that I will inform you the next step to take urgently, Send also your private telephone and fax number. I want us to meet face to face or sign a binding agreement to bind us together so that you can receive this money into a foreign account or any account of your choice where the fund will be safe.I will fly to your country for withdrawal and sharing and other investments.

I am contacting you because of the need to involve a foreigner with foreign account and foreign beneficiary.
I need your full co-operation to make this work fine because the management is ready to approve this payment to any foreigner who has correct information about this account, which I will feed you with, if you are able and with capability to handle such amount in strict confidence and trust according to my instructions and advice for our mutual benefit because this opportunity will never come again in my life.

I need truthful person in this business because I don't want to make mistake I need your strong assurance and trust. With my position now in the office I can transfer this money to any foreign reliable account, which you can provide with assurance that this money will be intact pending my physical arrival in your country for sharing.

Finally,i want to remaind you that your share has been carculated at 35% of the total sum.I'am waiting for your urgent reply so that i will give you more information about this deal.

My regards,
Karl Essoh

Now I could've had a lot more fun with this, but I just sent off a quick reply. And this is what I wrote:

Dear Mr Essoh,
Thank you so much for your email. I must say I was completely surprised to hear from you with such a generous offer, but the Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways. I have a question for you - how on earth did you find my email address as I don't make a habit of giving it out to lots of people. Regardless of how you found me, you have contacted me and I am very trustworthy and reliable. I will not tell anyone of this agreement we will be making if, as you say, it must remain confidential. I'm not particularly interested in receiving any money from you. I'm just happy to help a friend. Perhaps you could send me a picture of yourself, preferably without your clothes on. I know this may come as a surprise to you, but I was surprised by your email, so I guess this is a day of surprises! (ha ha)

I very much look forward to you flying to my cuntry. I hope your arms don't get too tired (ha ha). Please advise me what to do next and don't forget the photo.

Thank you so much

kind regards,
Nash

Now what I'd really like are some suggestions from you about my next response. To this:

Dear Nash

I received your mail, and of a truth I welcome your willingness to work with me to archive this great aim, I want you to be rest assured because this transaction is legitimate and is 100% risk Free, you should kindly take off from your mind any kind of negative imagination to enable us build confident and work together as partner in this deal.

However, I know that you are not the real next of kin or related to this family but I want you to know that nobody has ever come for this claim for past years till now and the bank has tried so many ways to reach any relatives of the late person but they could not because all of his family lost their lives in the incident.

That is reason why I contacted you to use you as the next of kin to the fund, since I have got every information that will back you up and will prove you as the real next of kin before the bank.

To take us further, you have to assure me that you will never betray me as this fund is confirmed into your account because I will feel at home living with you in your country where we will invest this money as one family’s as am trusting you in the name of Almighty that you will not let me down as I will present you to my bank as the next of kin to this fund,

As soon as I hear from you I will send an text of application in which you should fill and send to my bank as the first step on this transaction.
I look forward to hear from you soonest.

thanks
Essoh

if i had a fish ant

2007-11-07T21:14:00.000+11:00

I took the day off today. I've been celebrating. Yesterday was Melbourne Cup Day - the day the nation apparently stops for a horse race. Giddy up.

I went to a BBQ at my cousin's place and out of everyone there I was the only one to back the winner. I got 2nd place too. So now I'm $200 richer and I wish I'd put $75 on horse #6, Efficient, instead of only $7.50. I'd probably be in Texas now if I had

fash(n)

2007-11-03T08:39:00.000+11:00

Sometimes when I've got nothing better to do (taxes shmaxes) I play lil word games in my head. Now I'm doing it out loud...

Ash tray
bush Bash
dirty Cash
dot dot Dash
bloody Gash
Hash pipe
eye Lash
monster Mash
lazy Nash
wanna Pash
nappy Rash
winner's Sash
sufferin' succoTash
and
don't forget to Wash behind your ears...

Will you look at the time, it's November already

ears n ears

2007-10-30T20:30:00.000+11:00

My sudden departure from Sydney 3 months ago was aided by a phone conversation (landline to landline, thank you) with my Mum during which I mentioned I was thinking of returning to Melbourne. My parents do the grey nomad thing every year so Mum suggested I could house-sit their place in Croydon, Victoria where I grew up. For 4 months

So that's where I am. Back where it all began. Before I left Sydney I stayed with my lovely ex-missus, her partner and their 3 girls for a week in which I felt like I was launching off into a new adventure. I'd been away from home for 7 years. I'm happy to be back. One way I decided to look at this new chapter is by imagining I'm leaving high school again. What would I do differently this time round? How can I be more prepared, have clearer direction to set a prosperous pathway into the future. Life, career and the whole darn thing. And of course that includes a relationship (despite having cancelled my profile "LatinoLooks" on the gay dating site. I was on 7 hotlists you know. Sizzling?)

Croydon. I'm living in the same street (different house) where I lived from around 1974 to about 1990. I'm spending time with family and friends, seeing plays, shooting pool, planting beetroot, picking beans, missing my friends in Sydney and the blogosphere, avoiding doing my tax return (what the hell, I've got until tomorrow), celebrating birthdays, meditating, working, smoking and drinking Dad's home brew, writing, walking and catching trains. And I'm bumping into people all over the place. People from my past. People I haven't seen for years and years. But I still nose ya

gypsy

2007-09-28T18:18:00.000+10:00

On April 30th this year I wrote a post called we all make mistakes where (among other things) I mentioned I'd sent a letter to an American prisoner through the Write a Prisoner scheme. It was my second attempt to make contact with an inmate and now almost 5 months later (hard to believe) it's time for an update.

I received an unexpected reply to my letter about 3 weeks later. And we've been corresponding ever since. In fact I've got a stack of letters here - 16 as of today. I write to a man who goes by the nickname 'Gypsy' and I was initially interested in him because as well as being gay we happen to share the same birthday (different years). A starting point.

The first letter he wrote to me was pretty brief, which he pointed out was because (in his experience) a lot of people who write to him never write a second time. Not me. I wrote back gay away er straight away. I then received a second brief letter, which took about 4 weeks to reach me. He'd been transferred to another prison unit and had had to wait for my letter to be redirected/catch up with him.

Since those initial 2 letters every other letter he's written has been very long (as most of mine are to him). Sometimes we receive more than one a day/week. (No wonder I haven't been blogging). In each letter we reveal more details about ourselves. And as he opens up with each letter he writes I see a change in his attitude. His letters have become lighter. We make each other laugh a lot. We joke about things, we discuss our similarities, share our frustrations, talk about the weather, teach each other slang words n sayings. We discuss books, food and music and how fucked the (Texas) prison system is can be.

I've just sent him a batch of photos I took in Croydon of native Aussie birds - a kookaburra, a rosella, galahs etc - and other local identities. So I can't wait for his response. I've also recently started sending him ~~extra punishment~~ print outs of drift. He's happy for me to mention him here. In one letter Gypsy told me most people stop writing after 3-6 months. As far as I can see I'll be writing to him for the long haul.

Of course Sheila's predicting I'll become "like one of those women who fall in love with a prisoner". But I have no intention of switching gender and becoming a woman... Not surprisingly everyone asks why is he doing time. The way I see it, his biggest crime is that he doesn't watch Television. I guess I'll learn to live with that. The mistake I made was not putting pen to paper and writing sooner

(ad)mission: magic

2007-09-20T16:06:00.000+10:00

PART II

At Croydon railway station you bump into some friends from school and when they ask you where you're going you tell them you're off to visit an Aunt. You're thankful that they believe you (why wouldn't they?) and you catch your train. Then you catch another train and another train until you reach your destination - a part of Melbourne you've never been to before. You check the little map you've drawn on a scrap of paper and find your way to the local shops. In the florist you buy a bunch of flowers (most likely carnations) and then you set off to find Rick Springfield's Mum's house.

Armed with your flowers, a plastic Just Jeans bag (containing your secret scrapbook) and a keen sense of direction you wander into an unknown neighbourhood hoping you don't attract suspicion. You find the street easily enough and (among other thoughts) you wonder what sort of reaction you're going to receive when you knock on her door. You just keep walking. When you get closer to the house your heart starts pumping faster. So you walk right past it, up the road and around the corner. Then you stop, turn around and walk back towards the house. Great, now you're really going to look suspicious, but there's no stopping. You find yourself walking up the driveway to the front door. You still have no idea what you're going to say. You ring the bell.

There are no sounds coming from inside the house and no car to be seen in the driveway or garage. You ring the doorbell again (this time with more confidence), but no one comes to answer. After a moment or two you deposit the flowers on the doorstep and head back to the train station and begin the long journey home. When you get home you hide your scrapbook away again.

Some time later you make the same train trip. You know the journey better this time, but you're still nervous. You arrive at the house with your scrapbook and another bunch of flowers and walk up the driveway. This time you see a car in the garage. You ring the doorbell and you can't remember what was said when the door opened, but you give Mrs Springthorpe the bunch of flowers. You tell her you came to visit not so long ago and left some flowers on her doorstep and she says she rang all of her friends to find out who they were from. She invites you in. When she learns you've come all the way on the train from Croydon she says you should've phoned first, but then she remembers you couldn't've phoned because she recently changed the number. She now has a silent number because she was getting calls from journalists in America at all hours of the night and day (no mention of pesky fans).

She offers you a cool drink and you show her the scrapbook. You also show her two sketches you have drawn - one of Rick and one of his dog, Ron, who features on the cover of his Working Class Dog album. She compliments you on your artistic ability and you tell her you'd love to go to the States one day and meet Rick. She tells you to go into the loungeroom and have a look at Rick's awards. There in front of you are his two Grammy Awards and a couple of other awards and although you want to pick them up and hold them - there's nothing to stop you - you don't touch them because somehow they're too precious. Someone else arrives at the house and you're soon introduced to Rick's Aunt. The two women are off to a matinee performance of a show in town and they'll be leaving shortly. All too soon it's time to go. You say thank you and goodbye and catch the train back to Croydon...

Fast forward to May 2007. I received an email informing me the Countdown Spectacular 2 was coming to town in August this year. Countdown was a much loved Australian TV music show that started circa 1975 and ran for many years on Sunday evenings on the ABC. The Spectacular was a concert version featuring many bands/performers who'd appeared on the TV show throughout its run. In 2006 I attended the first Countdown Spectacular - a real nostalgia fest and a lot of fun - so I was keen to go along to the second one especially when I found out Rick Springfield was on the bill. This would be Rick's first time performing in his home country since the 1970s.

I decided a ticket to the Countdown Spectacular in Melbourne would be the perfect gift for my sister's 40th birthday (also in August) so I made a booking. I chose to pick our tickets up from the venue on the night of the concert - August 30th - but I checked my booking the night before and discovered the box-office was only open from 9 'til 5 (the concert started at 7:30). That meant I had to make a special trip into the city on the day of the concert (or so I thought). When I arrived at the venue there was no one to be seen except a girl sitting by herself on the steps outside the entrance. As I approached her to ask where I might find the box-office I noticed she was wearing a Rick Springfield t-shirt. She told me she remembered seeing Rick perform with his old band Zoot at a pub in Reservoir (now Zoot was even before my time) and she'd been waiting since something like 8am for him to turn up to the concert venue. She also told me that Rick was the headline act and would be performing 5 songs and she had "inside info" that Zoot were re-forming especially for the Melbourne concert. I told her "my sister's a fan and I'm bringing her along tonight" and then I headed over to the box-office to collect the tickets. For a moment I thought about sitting with this girl and waiting for Rick to turn up, but after I collected my tickets (and found out the box-office re-opened at 5:30) I headed home.

When my sister and I arrived at the concert later that night I saw in the merchandise stand a guitar for sale for $600. Whoever bought it could meet Rick Springfield backstage after the concert and get it signed. After all these years here was my chance. It crossed my mind to go halves with my sister, but $300 was still a lot for me. I bought a $25 (rip-off) programme instead. We made our way to our seats - right in front of the stage in the sixth row. My sister couldn't believe it. She'd never had seats this good at a concert before! We sang and danced along to many of our old favourites (and rested during the one or two crap acts) and then at the end of the night Rick Springfield came on to sing Jessie's Girl and a medley of songs including Speak to the Sky. At one stage he came down into the audience and was very close to where we were, but for some reason I didn't want him to get too close (I don't know why. Perhaps I would've fainted. Ha!). When he was back up on stage and finished his set he threw his plectrum into the audience and guess where it landed? Right at my feet. I picked it up without having to fight off any other fans and shoved it in my back pocket too dazed to have a proper look at it and too scared someone might try to snatch it out of my hand. It's now here in my (not so secret) collection. And there's the magic

(ad)mission: magic

2007-09-13T17:27:00.001+10:00

PART I

In 1981 singer/songwriter Rick Springfield hit music charts around the world in a big way. The ex-pat Aussie had already enjoyed solo success in 1972 with the song Speak to the Sky and was now on the crest of a comeback wave with his latest release, Jessie's Girl.

Now, Speak to the Sky had been a childhood favourite of mine plus I'd watched the Saturday morning cartoon show Mission: Magic, for which Rick wrote and sang a new song each episode (as well as appearing as an animated version of himself), but I wouldn't have called myself a fan. Fast forward to 1981 and when I saw Rick in the video clip for Jessie's Girl I was instantly smitten. There was something about him that had me intrigued, but when you're a 15 year old boy you don't go around telling people you've got a crush on a pop star named Rick Springfield.

What you do is you buy all of his records, but because your "interest" is secret you hide them. At the time of his chart success he's also appearing as Dr Noah Drake in the US daytime soap General Hospital (pity his episodes never screened in Australia) and as his popularity grows there are many pictures and articles to collect. So you start keeping a scrapbook, which is also very well-hidden. You scour the TV guide in the hope he'll be appearing on Solid Gold, the American Music Awards, the Grammy Awards or even the bloody Love Boat and you always have a spare videotape handy just in case. But it all remains a secret.

Thank God you have a younger sister because the moment she starts showing an interest in Rick Springfield you have an outlet. You feed her interest with zeal (though she's completely oblivious. Um... still is actually). You arrange dozens of posters of him on her bedroom walls - floor to ceiling - and you buy her a Rick Springfield pillowcase (which years later somehow ends up in your secret collection).

In a magazine article you learn Rick Springfield's family name is really Springthorpe. You also learn his mother's name, so you look her up in the phone book. And there she is - she's listed. You dial the number and she answers. But what do you say? You have no idea, so you pretend you have the wrong number and hang up. But at least you know the address is correct. Sometime later you set off on a (secret) mission...

gagged

2007-07-27T11:02:00.000+10:00

Since arriving back in Melbourne I've been without decent access to the net so I feel like I've been gagged. At the moment I'm staying with a friend in St Kilda so I've been able to post this without any problems, but it's going to be a while before I'm back on track with my own computer. Stay tuned and I'll bring you the latest news and other exciting tidbits from the topsy-turvy world of drift as soon as I can...

bound

2007-07-16T13:17:00.000+10:00

This past week has been one of the most hectic I've experienced for a long, long time and all I'll say right now is that in about 45 minutes I'm catching a flight from Sydney to Melbourne. One way. I'm homeward bound...

repeat

2007-07-09T20:36:00.000+10:00

normal transmission will resume shortly, I repeat, normal transmission will resume... yeah yeah you get my drift

to let

2007-06-20T15:01:00.000+10:00

Blog for lease. Apply within

sunday for everyone

2007-05-27T11:29:00.000+10:00

It's Sunday morning here in this part of the universe and that suits me. I love Talking Heads and this song - Once In A Lifetime - reminds me of going to Croydon Flea Market on Sundays when I was a kid. I'd occasionally buy records and tapes there and although this is one song I loved, I never bought it. I can still remember hearing it over the speakers at the record stall

Don't look now, all you Sound of Music ~~tragics~~ ~~fanatics~~ LOVERS, but I think I'm converting... Uh oh how do you solve a problem...

hollywood on the 378

2007-05-23T14:27:00.000+10:00

On Monday I was running late for an appointment in Bondi Junction so instead of walking through the park as I normally would I caught the 378 bus. A few stops after mine a former Hollywood child star got on. I'm sure I was the only one who realised. Now I understand this is mainly due to the fact that his starring role was in 1965 when he was 15 years old, but the film in which he shot to fame was The Sound of Music so you'd think someone would notice. Besides, he's continued to work as an actor... I have to add here that this film is not one of my personal favourites. I enjoyed it as a kid, but I can't bear it when people burst into song with Doe a bloody Deer or that stuff about a Few of Their Favourite Things (sorry, I'll hand my gay membership back now). Yes, there are a couple of songs I don't mind (the one about the goat herd for instance), but you're not likely to find me at Sing-a-Long Sound of Music and I've never understood how the soundtrack found its way onto the jukebox at the Price of Wales Hotel in St Kilda (or why anyone ever bothered wasting $2 of good drinking money on a selection).

Anyway, seeing the actor - Nicholas Hammond - got me thinking about the nature of fame and how one day you can be riding in limousines and another day you'll be riding the 378 to Bondi Junction. He was reading a script too, so perhaps he was on his way to an audition. I used to see actress Cornelia Frances on the same bus before she revived her career with The Weakest Link (and she hasn't looked back), so who knows? Maybe Nicholas will soon get his second wind too.

By the way, Nicholas is pretty handsome, but I'd've been far more excited if I'd seen his SoM co-star (and Lost in Space's Penny) Angela Cartwright on the bus.

That's Nicholas on the left. Angela Cartwright is front row second from right

bulk ace

2007-05-18T13:18:00.000+10:00

I've been invited to write an entry for the Australian Dictionary of Biography and my plan today was to work on that. I've decided to play instead... besides I've got an appointment at 3pm so there's no point starting "work" now, is there?

The other night at dinner with friends we got talking about terms that were used when we were at school. One friend (in his late 30s) who grew up in Queensland said the word "decent" was used to describe anything good. In Victoria where I went to school anything good was "grouse", "bulk" or (if it was exceptionally good) "bulk ace". Someone who gave you the shits was a "suck" or even worse a "big suck" - a term my Mum hated us using at home. It's funny how these random words come into use. Where do they come from and how do they gain popular acceptance? They seem to disappear/change at a rapid rate too. So, I'm just wondering what words you used at school that you never hear any more. It'd be bulk ace if you could leave a comment...

magic carpet ride

2007-05-16T09:41:00.000+10:00

This is what I'm doing today

tagged by a penguin

2007-05-15T16:24:00.000+10:00

I arrived home last night after an evening of theatre, dinner n drinks with friends to discover I'd been tagged by Sam over at Adventures of Queerpenguin. At first I really did gasp out loud, but then I warmed to the idea of being coerced into posting. So, here goes:

1. I love the number 8. I was born at home and 8 was the street number of our house. All I really know about my birth is that I was 2 weeks overdue, the umbilical cord was around my neck and the midwife was eager for a cup of tea. If I knew what time I was born I'd get my personal astrology chart done, but my parents can't remember. My Mum can only tell me that it was early in the morning. Some years ago I was pleased to learn the number 8 is also the symbol for infinity

2. As a kid I was sent along to ballroom dancing lessons. I was 10 or 11 at the time and I excelled in competition dancing; I received medals, trophies and ribbons in various categories and was also awarded something like "most promising newcomer", but I was too embarrassed to continue once I got to High School so I dropped out. Now I watch 'Dancing with the Stars' and can only wonder...

3. I watched lots n lots of television when I was a kid. I also bought TV Week magazine and kept scrapbooks. One of my favourite shows was (and still is) 'Prisoner'. When actress Fiona Spence announced she was leaving the series I wrote a letter to TV Week saying how much I would miss her as the hard-line screw Vera 'Vinegar Tits' Bennett. The letter was published (under the pen name 'Prisoner Fan'), but for some reason I never kept a copy. I've written other letters since then to various publications, but this was the first. Some years later my first ever boyfriend collected some of his old scrapbooks from his Mum's house and in one of them was a copy of my letter. Neither of us knew each other at the time the letter was written

4. During the 1980s I had an agent. In between being a Uni student or dole bludger I worked as an extra in many films, television series and mini-series. I did lots of episodes of 'Neighbours' including when it first aired on the 7 Network. When the show moved over to TEN I was seen hanging around the background in the daze of Kylie Minogue, Jason Donovan, Guy Pearce and Craig McLachlan et al. I still have some old video tapes around here somewhere

5. I'm a hoarder. I went to a '70s retro themed housewarming party once and wore my old platform school shoes. They barely fitted, but I squeezed into them in the name of authenticity. I drank too much and danced too much and the next day the toenails on my two big toes were black. Eventually both toenails fell off and although they grew back they've been fucked ever since - kinda like my Mum's (though hers are naturally like that)

6. I have an older brother and a younger sister. When we were growing up they both had white blond(e) hair and blue eyes whereas I've always had black hair and dark brown eyes. People would often comment about the striking difference between me and my siblings and suggest my father was really the milkman. These daze my brother is balding, my sister dyes her hair to keep it blonde and I get told I look like Antonio Banderas, Michael Hutchence or (ahem) Mr Bean

7. I've lost count of the number of jobs I've had. Unlike my brother and sister who've had the same jobs for years n years I've done lots of different things to earn a crust. One job I had a couple of years ago was a stint at Bodyline (a gay sex on premises venue here in Sinny). The pay was lousy and the hours weren't much better and sometimes I would've rather been serving a sexy customer horizontally than over the counter. I haven't told my parents about that ~~position~~ job (yet)

8. I thought I'd have kids. And I do, but other people made them. I have four god children living in Melbourne and a sponsor child living in Africa. I've known the mother of my two godsons (brothers aged 9 & 7) since my first year at High School and the mother of my goddaughters (twins aged 2) since my final year at High School. The boy I sponsor is about to turn 17 and has been in my life since he was 12. One of the things I love about him is that he loves dancing. He lives in Malawi and all I can say is it's a good thing Madonna never tried to get her hands on him...

Now I have to follow the rules and tag 8 other people, so... Campbell, Denys, Ian, Marc, Miss Litzi, Nico, Sheila and (The Other) Andrew consider yourselves tagged!

coincidence file > free for all

2007-05-13T23:31:00.000+10:00

I haven't posted a coincidence file for a while now, but I have been experiencing wonderful coincidences all over the place. I was in Bondi Junction the other week and I walked past an apartment block where a friend lives. I was looking for the post office (which had relocated since I'd last been there). It occurred to me I could buzz my friend's apartment and ask her for directions, but it'd been a while since I'd seen her and I didn't remember her number off the top of my head. That night the phone rang and it was my friend calling...

Recently I walked down a street in Surry Hills that I hadn't been down for a while. I thought about a time when I'd visited a house in this street, which someone I knew had been house sitting. It's been quite a few years since I've seen the guy who was house sitting and I got to wondering where he might be. Today he drove past me and waved. I was surprised he even recognised me because it's been so long and I look different to when he last saw me. He's still just as handsome as ever...

I was at the Sydney Opera House today and went to the bar to buy some drinks. There was a woman at the bar also buying a drink. We were the only two there. I asked her name because she looked familiar and I thought she might be a friend of a friend of mine (someone I haven't seen for almost a year). It turns out she was indeed who I thought she was and then I told her I was meeting our mutual friend tomorrow evening. She said she was supposed to be meeting him tomorrow afternoon. We'd only just started chatting when her phone rang. She said, "I bet that's him" and... it was! A lil aside to this: last night I looked up Ann B Davis (Alice from the 'Brady Bunch') on imdb (she's been on my mind the last couple of daze - who knows why?). It just occurred to me that this woman I met at the Opera House bar played Alice in a stage version of the 'Brady Bunch' maybe 10 years ago (it was called the 'Real Live Brady Bunch' or something and was hilarious).

So there we have it. I love the way the universe works like this though I haven't got much idea about the significance behind these occurrences. When they happen I usually keep a record, but lately I haven't been so diligent. Now I'm thinking it'd be great to hear some of your coincidences, so if they happen to you please share them here. Once you start noticing them they tend to escalate... (so you've got no excuses!)

pick a card

2007-05-10T10:20:00.000+10:00

I came across this Tarot card thingo via a new visitor to drift (Thanks Brechi; there's a link to his blog in the previous post's comments. Yep, I'm still lazy about linking). Anywaze, I've had a set of Tarot cards for many years and did a course about 10 years ago so I could learn how to read them. I haven't read for anyone else recently, but from time to time I'll read for myself (some people suggest this is not such a good idea, but that doesn't stop me). When I took this test (below) I discovered I am the Hierophant. I'm happy with the result, though I wasn't exactly sure what "hidebound" meant. According to my dictionary it means "narrow and rigid in opinion." Ha! What the hell would they know? Please feel free to take the test and share your results

You are The Hierophant
Divine Wisdom. Manifestation. Explanation. Teaching.

All things relating to education, patience, help from superiors.The Hierophant is often considered to be a Guardian Angel.

The Hierophant's purpose is to bring the spiritual down to Earth. Whereas the High Priestess between her two pillars deals with realms beyond this Earth, the Hierophant (or High Priest) deals with worldly problems. He is well suited to do this because he strives to create harmony and peace in the midst of a crisis. The Hierophant's only problem is that he can be stubborn and hidebound. At his best, he is wise and soothing, at his worst, he is an unbending traditionalist.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

gate crash trash

2007-05-08T13:28:00.000+10:00

My late teens through to my early 20s was an intense, non-stop time of weekend partying for me and a dedicated group of friends. One well-meaning invitation to a party would result in 20 or 30 of us turning up. We revelled in it. I was reminded of some of our antics when I came across this article today. Whilst I'm aghast at the extent of the damage caused by gatecrashers at this party I'm also a little bit amused (and thankful it wasn't my house) because I know exactly what can happen when rampant youth is mixed with booze and somebody-else's-home-minus-the-parents. I'm too ashamed to go into details of my own miscreant behaviour back then, although the scale wasn't as great as in this article. And in my day (ha!) we weren't into drugs (that came later), but we were aided and abetted by decent party music including songs by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics, who were very popular at the time...

my f*!#ing shoes

2007-05-05T13:09:00.000+10:00

One Sunday about ten years ago I went with a friend to a New Age/Psychic Fair at the St Kilda town hall in Melbourne. There were plenty of people offering Tarot card readings, aura readings (complete with photographs) and the like, but the queues were long and the cost for most things was prohibitive. Rather than go home without experiencing anything 'otherwordly' we ended up having our palms read by a man who hadn't been reading for all that long. One of the few things I remember him telling me was that he could see I was angry. At the time I thought, yeah, I'm angry I wasted 20 bucks on someone who doesn't know what they're talking about. I never saw myself as an angry young man at all.

I think, however, that I have become angry - or certainly angrier - over time (who knows how far back it goes?). This is something that's taken me a while to see, mainly because I rarely expressed my anger in explosive bursts. I usually vent any frustration through healthy doses of swearing mixed with blaspheming (depending on whose company I'm in - I tend to be mindful around children and one or two Christians) and then it's over, dealt with. And every now n then I'll write a letter, sign a petition or attend a rally, but as I said, I never thought that I was particularly angry. In fact people comment on the calming influence I exude.

But in the past 6 months or so I've come to realise I do carry a hefty dose of anger within and part of it stems from stupid people, which when it all boils down to it actually means people who don't look at life the same way I do. Thankfully, one of the conclusions I've (finally) reached is that it's ridiculous for me to expect ~~all those fucking idiots~~ everyone to have the same opinions as me or to look at the world the same way I do even if I think my way of looking at life is pretty easy.

About ten years ago I also came across a book written by Tom Spanbauer called The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon. It's one of those books I need (and want) to read again. Something Tom wrote in this amazing book has stayed with me ever since. It was about what happens "when knowledge becomes understanding". You can know this and know that, but until you actually have a degree of understanding you don't get anywhere really (I don't think you need to understand completely, though that's probably worth aiming for) .

So the dickhead bigot on the street may know I'm a faggot, but without understanding me (or homosexuality) he just remains ignorant. And although I know he's a bigot, until I understand why he's like that (understand him) surely I remain just as ignorant. There's a place for love and compassion and a whole host of other worthwhile things to guide us through life, but I truly believe a lack of understanding results in anger and ultimately gets us nowhere. One song that struck me as a kid was Joe South's Walk a Mile in My Shoes, which has also been recorded by people such as Elvis Presley and more recently Cold Cut. I tried to post Joe's version of it from YouTube, but I couldn't (though I have managed to link). Instead of being angry about this I'll let you find your own way to YouTube and check out whichever version you like, if you want to. Otherwise, here are the words. I'm heading off to dance at Palms!

If I could be you
And you could be me
For just one hour
If we could find a way
To get inside
Each other's mind

If you could see you
Through my eyes
Instead of your ego
I believe you'd be
Surprised to see
That you've been blind

Walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes
Before you abuse, criticise and accuse
Walk a mile in my shoes

Now your whole world
You see around you
Is just a reflection
And the law of Karma
Says you're gonna reap
Just what you sow

So unless you've
Lived a life
Of total perfection
You'd better be careful
Of every stone
That you should throw

And if we spend the day
Throwing stones
At one another
'Cause I don't think
Or wear my hair
The same way you do

Well I may be
Common people
But I'm your brother
And when you strike out
And try and hurt me
It's hurting you
(Lord have mercy)

Walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes
Hey before you abuse, criticise and accuse
Walk a mile in my shoes

There are people
On reservations
And out in the ghettos
and brother there
But for the grace of God
Go you and I

And if I only
Had wings of an angel
Don't you know I'd fly
To the top of a mountain
And then I'd cry:

Walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes
Hey before you abuse, criticise and accuse
Better walk a mile in my shoes
(Drop what you're doing)

Walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes
Oh before you abuse, criticise and accuse
Walk a mile in my shoes

Walk a mile in my shoes
Walk a mile in my shoes
Hey before you abuse, criticise and accuse
Walk a mile in my shoes

we all make mistakes

2007-04-30T22:41:00.000+10:00

Not long after starting this blog I was trawling the net one night when I came across a site called Write a Prisoner. I've had a fascination with life behind bars for a long, long time. And yes, as anyone who knows me (or has read enough of drift) will tell you, it was probably triggered by watching the Aussie drama Prisoner when I was a kid. Incidentally, I think I'm the only viewer who was annoyed when the so-called "spin-off" series Punishment was axed after just a few months on-air. (I'm not even going to bother adding a link, it was so bad, but I was still dismayed). I have this thing for the underdog and for Justice. These notions have probably always been in me, but weren't given a context until Prisoner came along. It also coincided with my second year at High School when I began to view students as voiceless entities downtrodden by their teachers (except the occasional good ones). This, in turn, was also happening around the time of Pink Floyd's hit Another Brick in the Wall. I joined the Student Rep Council and decided to fight for student rights, though, really there wasn't much to fight for at suburban Croydon High School circa 1979. When I reached my final year of High School in 1983 I was given permission to go inside Fairlea Women's Prison to meet with a young inmate and discuss her life, which I then wrote about for an English paper. My only subsequent glimpse of life on the inside since then has been as a tourist when I visited two former correctional facilities - Alcatraz in 1984 and Pentridge (Melbourne) on the day Princess Diana died (1996?). And of course I watch stuff like documentaries and dramas on telly...

From time to time I wonder what it must really be like to be locked up. I wonder how I'd cope, what I'd do to survive and what chance I'd have to remain unscathed by incarceration. I wonder about rehabilitation and how it could work better. And many other thoughts besides. So when I discovered the Write a Prisoner site and read some of the ads on there I decided to write a letter. I never mentioned it (to anyone) at the time because I wanted to see where it would lead me first. Well, I wrote to a young gay prisoner who was in jail for vehicular manslaughter. I never heard back and after a few months I pretty much forgot about it. Then last week as I was trawling the net once again I visited Denys over at Homo Homo Sapien and found he had linked to a newly discovered blog by Marc Olmsted. I started reading and was fascinated. First of all I was delighted to find a person who cares about the planet and actually gets off his arse to do something about it. Then I went to the Archives and started reading Marc's amazing account of his life as a prisoner. I spent two consecutive evenings spellbound by what I read. I laughed and I cried and I kept on reading. I've still got plenty more to go (Marc's been writing his blog since 2004), but it's a journey I'm eager to continue. Last night I wrote to Marc to tell him of my reaction to his words and the powerful effect they/he had on me. Then I got onto that Write a Prisoner website again and found a guy whose name I'd noted during my first look all those months ago, but who I never wrote to. I posted a letter to him today.

If you're feeling a bit fed up with your life, if you want a whopping great dose of humanity or just a bloody amazing read go n check out Marc's blog for yourself. Thank you Denys for leading me to something wonderful or, as I said in my email to Monsieur Olmsted, something re-marc-able

par avion

2007-04-26T23:10:00.000+10:00

Apparently dumped Immigration Minister Amanda Vanstone has been posted to Italy. I wonder how many stamps they needed (and where they stuck 'em) yuk yuk yuk. Pity she wasted all those tax payer dollars learning Mandarin when she could've been learning Eye-tally-arno. Anyway, if she's been posted by someone from her former department she could end up anywhere... ciao bello... er bella

mod cons

2007-04-24T12:15:00.000+10:00

It's time to come clean
It's time to confess
There's something about me
I bet you can't guess

It's not that I'm lazy
Or behind in the rent
It's not that I'm anal
(Or what some would call 'bent')

Who cares if I'm messy
Or I blaspheme and curse
According to some folk
This is really much worse

Friends offer to help me
And although very kind
They just waste their breath
Coz I won't change my mind

I'm used to the strange looks
When people discover
I'm not like the rest
I'm one of those "others"

I have an aversion
To a thing all the rage
Which makes me quite odd
In this day and age

So call me a Luddite
But the truth must be known
I don't have, need or want
A mobile bloody phone

all i recall/this is cereus

2007-04-22T11:13:00.000+10:00

Well it's taken just over a year, but I've had my first blog-related dream. I was reading my blog at some house where I was staying for a few daze and I noticed there were three new posts - none of which I'd seen before. Someone must've broken into drift, but who could it be? I figured it was Sheila from My Arms Fold Back. All I recall of the three new posts was one about finding a new job (I am looking). I'll let you know if it happens... Also featured in the dream was an ex-boss I wrote about once upon a time in a coincidence file > post. I was staying at her house and chopping vegetables in bed, but she'd already chopped enough for dinner and didn't need any more so I started eating them (carrots if you must know). Then she wanted some advice about something or other, which I was happy to provide. Hmmm

Meanwhile, over in the Tea Room Miss Litzi n I have been chatting about stuff we find in the garden. I have a mystery succulent in my backyard, which blooms the most beautiful, intricate white flowers once a year at night. I was away this year when it bloomed so came home to the spent remains, but with the help of "the Google" I've managed to find a picture (and a name).

Ladies & gentlemen, introducing the Cereus something-or-other:

From this to this:

man bag

2007-04-18T23:06:00.000+10:00

Somehow I missed a crucial part of Prison Break (either tonight or last week). So can someone please tell me where the creepy n malevolent Theodore 'T-Bag' Bagwell has gone? He's such a scumbag I can't help but be attracted to him. Played with exquisite sleaziness by the talented and compelling Robert Knepper, last time I saw T-Bag he'd managed to escape his captors (yet again) then track one of 'em down at a hotel to reclaim the stash of cash they'd tried to swindle him out of. But how'd he manage to get himself free? (I know I said he's compelling, but I missed that bit too). Did he cut his own hand off?

I saw Robert Knepper interviewed last year (must've been for the "Making of" special) and I was so taken by him and how different he is to the character he plays. (Yeah, I know he's an actor, but still - with some TV performers there's not that much difference). Tonight when I was checking his list of screen credits on imdb I discovered he'd also been in Carnivale. I was impressed by him in that too, but had no idea it was the same actor.

So, please, can anyone help out and fill me in? I'll be very grateful, but a word of warning, if they've killed him off I don't wanna know...

hotter than a pepper sprout

2007-04-17T15:34:00.000+10:00

It's time we had some fun...

I love YouTube! I can spend hours searching for songs to play, there's so much to choose from. Last night I watched a couple of Nancy Sinatra clips for These Boots Are Made For Walking, which I was originally going to post for you, but I couldn't make up my mind which version I liked best (fabulous '60s choreography in both) so here's Jackson instead. My Mum has a great vinyl collection and this song was one of my favourites when I was growing up. Mum no longer plays vinyl so sometimes I'll ask her if I can have certain LPs. She usually says yes, but Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood's Greatest Hits was one she wouldn't let me have. (Some years ago she let me have Liza with a Z and still had no idea I was gay). I read recently that once upon a time Nancy had a huge crush on Lee, but it was unrequited. The pair remain great friends though Lee's health isn't so good now. I'd never seen this clip before today. Hope you enjoy it...

Justine Saunders

2007-04-16T15:32:00.000+10:00

Sadly, another loss. I've just found out that actress Justine Saunders passed away yesterday. No more suffering, but still far too soon. Thanks for the fun times Justine and the storytelling. You were a pioneering spirit and I'm sorry we never finished what we started...

whiff

2007-04-15T22:40:00.000+10:00

Tonight I started searching for images on "the Google" because I wanted to show you an example of the type of advertising that turned me on once I got a whiff of puberty. 'Course the real culprits were those guys in the advertisements, promoting all the usual suspects circa 1979: cigarettes, underwear, chocolate bars and flavoured milk (in no particular order). I'm talking about both in magazines and on the telly. Anywaze, having no luck finding the sort of pic I wanted to show you - and I can't be bothered scanning anything right now (yeah, I do have a stash of '70s & '80s mags; no, they're not pornos) - I then tried to remember who else had stirred my loins back then (other than actors from soapies). A couple of musicians came to mind - pop stars. These were guys that first got me thinking it was weird to think 'like this' about a male - some of my earliest attractions. Interestingly, they were both one hit wonders here in Australia (something I've often contemplated aspiring to). One was a Canadian guy from the brother/sister group Promises (anyone remember the blond?) another was Roger Voudouris.

Roger Voudouris had a hit in Australia with the song "Get Used To It" (which strikes me as very apt as I write this) and is infamous here for his appearance on the ABC's music show Countdown where he sang (mimed?) whilst his long dark locks were blown around by a wind machine (oh it's all in the link, I ain't so lazy after all). I remember it well. I also remember I had a poster of him on my bedroom wall and when friends from school came over to my place I wondered if they'd think anything of it (no one ever said anything). I loved the song and I was very fond of Roger in a secret (love) kind of way...

Tonight I discovered two things. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I was born on the same day (different year) as Roger Voudouris, but sadly - and this really shocked me - I found out he died in August 2003.

wun

2007-04-14T10:42:00.000+10:00

Seems everyone's having a birthday - including drift, which celebrates birthday numero uno today!

I was inspired by three people to begin this blog. Bolton Gray's blog was the first I ever read, Tom Judson's was one blog I stumbled across (via Gus Mattox) and Sheila from My Arms Fold Back started her blog around the time I contemplated creating my own and she urged me to do it (she's always been a few weeks ahead of me, right from birth).

Like a lot of bloggers I wasn't too sure where I was taking this, which is one reason I chose the name drift. I've been keeping journals and diaries for years n years, but I didn't want this to be the same as those. All I knew was I wanted to remain anonymous so I wouldn't be inhibited in what I write. I like the idea of being able to reveal secrets and to be explicit if I feel like it. I've only told three or four people about this blog - others have found it on their own, which is exactly what I was hoping for. And perhaps I should be known as the lazy blogger - I don't even alphabetise my links (crikey, I hardly ever bother to link).

I'm glad I bothered to add a counter. I was pleased to see it reach 1965 today because that's the year I was born and it just seems fitting. I get a buzz out of seeing where in the world people are coming from too. Who knows what they make of it? Doesn't really matter, though I wish a few more readers would leave comments. Don't be shy...

It's been a blessing to "meet" other bloggers. Sometimes I get a lil bit of a crush on them. Words can do that. I'd like to attend a blog-meet, but then there's that question of anonymity. Would I expect people to only call me Nash? Would I then change my style of blogging? (Do I even have a style?). Oh, that's enough.

Thanks to everyone for dropping by. Come on, let's have some cake...

you can exchange the gift if you want to

2007-04-13T19:19:00.000+10:00

One of the best things about the world of blogging is the people you randomly "meet". You can start off at one blog and end up somewhere else (sometimes/often?) without knowing how you ever got there. You read a lil bit about what's going on in someone else's life and you get drawn in by the way they express themselves. You find their words or pictures strike a chord and so you check out their interests/favourite movies, music n books etc to learn a bit more. If they don't have a pic of themselves you begin to create your own vision/version of them in your head. You leave comments on their blog and they respond. You both reveal things about yourself that perhaps only close friends know. You sometimes question how your words will be interpreted. When they take a break from blogging you begin to wonder where they are and if they're okay. When they live in another state or another country you wonder if you'll ever meet in the flesh. And when they have a birthday you want to celebrate with them and wish them all the best for the year ahead. So... Happy Birthday Miss Litzi, let's put something naughty in the tea this year and drink to a happy future - have a wonderful day!

my wall

2007-04-10T15:39:00.000+10:00

Today I had an appointment in Bondi Junction so I decided to walk there via Centennial Park. I was in need of some nature and I wasn't disappointed. It didn't take long before I heard the raucous laugh of the Kookaburra. There were four of them - 2 in one tree, 2 in another - and their laughter made me laugh. "Gay your life must be" indeed...

There once was a time when I walked from Darlinghurst to Bondi Junction every morning through Centennial Park. I was working in a wonderful bookstore (which is now a Centrelink and is where I ended up when the bookshop closed and we all lost our jobs, ahem) and the 40 minute walk was a great way to start the day. I rarely go to the park these daze, but it's always a treat to stomp around in all that open space.

And now, just for the hell of it, I'd like to show you a picture that caught my eye (and a lil piece of my heart) back in 2000 as the Olympic Games were about to get underway

Taken by Rick Stevens, this pic of sexy Bangarra Dance member Lewis Lampton with the Olympic Arts torch was on the front of the Sydney Morning Herald. I love Lewis... er the pic so much that I cut it out and stuck it on my wall *sigh*

up n down

2007-04-09T09:29:00.000+10:00

I was thinking about the ups & downs we all face throughout our lives and how we deal with them. Lately I've been feeling like the boy on this see-saw - more down than up. It's partly because every time I leave Melbourne after a visit I feel very unsettled, but mostly it's because I tend to respond to life's hurdles in a negative way. I know being up n down go hand in hand and we can't have one without the other so the trick to this, like all things in life, is to find balance. My biggest problem is a lack of self-discipline in my personal life (oh, okay, it creeps into my professional life too). My life is very extreme and changes every few months - abundant/poor, motivated/lazy, sober/stoned, slut/celibate, sociable/reclusive, Dolly Parton/er... Dolly Parton.

I feel better already. Look out bunny, the only way for me is UP

I hope you all had a peaceful Easter and saved some of your eggs for 'ron

lurking

2007-04-06T11:16:00.000+10:00

I haven't really got anything to blog about, but just wanted to let you know I'm still lurking about in cyberspace...

I can hear Paul Simon coming thru on the radio from next door "These are the days of miracle and wonder and don't cry baby, don't cry, don't cry..." which thankfully is a song I like. Some songs heard randomly can lift my spirits instantly. I remember when I was living in Melbourne I was waiting to catch a tram home from the city late one night when a distant busker started playing "Here Comes the Sun" (George Harrison) on his saxophone. It's one of my favourite songs and came at a time when I was in need of some cheering up so I went over and popped a 5er in the busker's bowl. When I hear certain songs I feel everything will be okay...

In other news, I've just returned to Sydney from Melbourne where I spent 2 weeks catching up with friends old and new. Among other things I saw a play, went to the Melbourne Flower & Garden Show, went to St Kilda beach and had a family BBQ at my sister and brother-in-law's place in Lilydale. Oh and I caught up on some sleep

What A Surprise!

2007-03-25T09:40:00.000+10:00

Hi everyone, this is Sheila. I have decided to do a guest post on Nash's blog because firstly, he said it would be a good idea, and secondly, I felt like it. During my break in the blogger world I've been fretting about Anna Nicole Smith's baby's paternity test and then been awoken by Nash coming down to Melbourne for one of his famous visits. I say famous because everyone who we know loves it when he pops up out of nowhere and its usually unexpected, fun, hilarious, and even reassuring. Our friendship has probably spanned 25 years or more. We know each other well. There is a sense of relief sometimes when I see Nash. Its something to do with that you see where you've come from (loony teenager buying a Psychedelic Furs album from Nash while he was working at Han's Music Spot to being a mum that has mostly peanut butter and sauce smudged on her t-shirt without knowing it and secret ambitions of doing things that have still yet to surface in the real world). I feel young. I think Nash and I are still young but with that great feeling that you've probably been through a similar crisis before (together or seperately) and managed to live through it mostly unscathed. We can talk about most things - Nash has just mentioned that he wished we had done a painting together this morning (I have to go home to the little ones soon) and now he's threatening to cut his own hair. The sun has peeped through and it's promising something.

broken

2007-03-24T11:09:00.000+11:00

I've arrived in Melbourne and already broken the drought. It pissed with rain last night after months & months without a drop. The parks and gardens are happy. I'll see what else I can fix while I'm here. Might work on the man drought next...

it's about time

2007-03-09T22:21:00.000+11:00

Some old friends and I were talking tonight about people we know and what they're doing with their lives these daze, how far they've come. I believe everyone of us has a moment when our time has arrived. Some of us have to wait longer than others, some of us may not recognise opportunities first time round that could lead to that moment, but eventually the universe will allow us to reach a place in our life where we get a chance to shine, to arrive. I'm still waiting and learning patience at the same time. It's not always easy, but I'm prepared to continue along on my merry way

In the meantime I'd like to sing you all a Dolly Parton song, but my karaoke machine's on the blink so you'll have to come back another time...

btw the pic is a 12 bulb hourglass

i woke up in love this morning

2007-03-08T11:13:00.000+11:00

Last night I had sex with David Cassidy. Yeah, okay, it was in my dream, but it makes up for the lack of horizontal action in my waking life. Hey David, I think I love you so what am I so afraid of...?

coincidence file > nikki

2007-02-14T15:10:00.000+11:00

A few weeks back my housemate came home and announced "someone died". He'd heard it on the news or read it in the paper, but he couldn't remember who it was. He told me it wasn't someone famous, but the daughter of someone well known.

The only response I gave was "Angie Dickinson". My housemate said "no" so I suggested he get on the net. He found the answer quickly. It was composer Burt Bacharach's daughter, Nikki, who committed suicide early last month. Her mother was Bacharach's former wife... Angie Dickinson.

Before now the only thing I could've told you about Nikki is that I remember when she visited Australia several year ago with her mother...

I haven't blogged for a while - mainly because I'm focusing on other stuff (my brilliant career for starters), but this arvo I was prompted by dishy Tom Judson. I checked Tom's site (see links) and got listening to an interview he did last year. During the interview Tom mentions a piece of music - "Nikki" - which Burt Bacharach wrote for his daughter many years ago.

give a dog a bone

2007-02-05T20:11:00.000+11:00

I've just been on the dog n bone for the past 2 1/2 hours to two different men. I met Matt about 20 years ago. We fell out of the closet together one drunken night at a party. I was about 20 and he was maybe 18. We became boyfriends cum best friends who shared (amongst other things & in no particular order) weirdo mind games, non-communication, magic mushrooms, mayhem and laughter. We've had periods of intense love, rivalry and friendship. We drift apart and find each other again, each time with a deeper (unspoken) understanding of what we mean to each other. Tonight was the first time we've spoken for a long time, not because of any ill feeling, but mainly because our lives have taken us to other parts of Australia. (The irony is, the name of the street Matt lives on is also my surname - makes me laugh).

We spoke for nearly 2 hours. When I got off the phone I remembered that we used to talk for that long years ago when I was in California and he was in Melbourne. Sometimes he 'd put the phone down (pre-cordless phone daze) to go and make a cup of tea or have a pee. I remember one phone bill was around $400 - and this was when Matt had a boyfriend (as someone pointed out at the time). Tonight he had a pee while we were talking (he told me). I had a joint (I didn't tell him).

Matt was the first person to break my heart. Tonight after we said goodbye I rang the second person to break my heart, Ralfie. We met nearly 11 years ago when I was 30 and he'd just turned 43. We too have had periods of intense love, passion, irritation and friendship. His beautiful dog Scruff was in the animal hospital last night, but came home today and is on the mend (some gastro yucky bug thing). We had a good old yak for half an hour or more. We talk every few daze/weeks. I told Ralfie I'm off to the Blue Mountains on Wednesday to meet with a man who's been with his boyfriend for 44 years. We marvelled at their longevity. It's rare, in my experience, to come across gay men in longterm relationships, though I find it reassuring when I do. I love the idea of growing intimately old with a partner, but I also cherish lasting friendships.

And that's what I've become aware of since getting off the blower. Then I see in front of me, as I write, a letter I got in the mail today from a friend, Rona, in Melbourne. We've known each other since Grade 2 at Primary school. It's been a couple of years since we've had contact. It means a lot to me to have loving friends in my life and the ones who have been around for a long time lift my spirits (just when I need it most) as do a few of you lovely fellow bloggers. Thanks for sticking around...

soon

2007-02-05T12:35:00.000+11:00

sorry everyone, i drifted off for a moment. i'll be back on deck soon...

after all this time

2006-12-22T00:22:00.000+11:00

Ah yes, it's that time of year... when I can't think of anything to blog on about...

Have a peaceful festive season and a year full of wonder

Love nashx

what's that smell? (click here)

2006-12-07T11:15:00.000+11:00

isn't charcoal mean to be a good cure?

and the winner is...

2006-12-07T10:15:00.000+11:00

The AFI (Australian Film Institute) Awards will be handed out tonight. This year I've managed to see most of the films up for nomination (no mean feat considering not all Aussie films last that long at the cinema). All I'm really concerned about this year is my prediction for winner of Best Actor - Steve Le Marquand for his lead role in Last Train to Freo. What a powerhouse performance he gave as a smouldering, menacing thug. I'm rooting for him...

Also hoping wonderful actress Kris McQuade will pick up an AFI for her role in the comedy Supernova. Fingers crossed

8

2006-12-06T18:29:00.000+11:00

So, my eight week acting course has come to an end. It finished on Monday night and it feels like the end of the run of a play. We had 10 students all up, but one woman never came back after her first session. Wonder if she got a refund. I never missed a class. See, I can commit from time to time...

Week One

I had an invitation to the 40th Anniversary party for the ABC's kids' show, Play School. Yes, something I was really looking forward to. But after saying I'd attend I had to bow out gracefully as the celebration clashed with week one of my course. I found out the next day that hardly any of the presenters I was looking forward to gawking at were in attendance anyway, so I felt better about choosing not to go. Besides, I had a great night in class. The first director had us for the first two weeks. I was surprised how easily the feeling of knowing what to do returned. It felt like I hadn't been away from a performance situation at all. In reality it had been about 14 years. Crikey. The group was a balanced mix of males n females (4:5). I was nervous before that first class - what if I was a crap performer after all this time blah blah blah

We were all pretty much at a similar level and they were a friendly bunch to get to know. Most of our exercises involved improvisations and interpreting text. It was a fresh approach for me and I felt the old magic kick in, which means I got a bit of a buzz out of the possible ways of interpreting the written word and my ability to make stuff up on the spot

Week Three

We had a new director who came in for three weeks. He had a different approach, this time making us aware of physical aspects of performance. Once again the class clashed with something I'd really been looking forward to. A couple of weeks earlier I'd won tickets to see the Griffin Theatre adaptation of my favourite book, Holding the Man. I couldn't believe it when it finally dawned on me I couldn't go to see the play. Then the season sold out. It's coming back for a three week season during the Mardi Gras festival next year, but hopefully I'll get to see it this Monday night (they've still got a few tix left for pay-what-you-can punters, but I'll have to queue early). On week four a group of us went for a drink after class. It was the right time and a good opportunity for some of us to meld. Later that night after most people had gone home I ended up boozing with two of my fellow acting students at the Courthouse Hotel at Taylor Square. It was fun. The next night I switched on the telly and there was one of my acting-cum-late-night-drinking buddies doing a guest stint in Home & Away. Very good performer too

Week Six

We got our third director, someone whose plays I've seen and loved over the past few years here in Sydney. I was so excited. When I walked into the rehearsal room I noticed the sunlight coming through the window was forming a rainbow across the floor from the director to where I stood. Ooh, that's a good sign. What a dynamic director. I imagined myself being mesmerised to the point of falling in love - creative types do that to me sometimes. But this caught me off guard, particularly because the director's female. I soon got over it and resumed a professional attitude. The next day I bumped into her at an obscure cafe just around the corner from my house. At the time I'd been thinking about my potential future as an actor. Hmmm

Week seven and I was given a script to learn for week 8. It was the first time I'd had to commit words to memory for ages. A few days after week 7's class I once again bumped into the director at a local cafe. Another good sign, shirley. So then we get to last Monday night. I performed the piece with a fellow actor and it went as well as expected. I stuffed up a line or two, but it didn't matter, we covered up and got on with the job. We got a great reaction from our audience too (the director and other classmates) - we got lots of laughs (for all the right reasons). This bit took me by surprise

After the class, where everyone did inspiring work, it was time to celebrate. Another fun night where once again I ended up boozing at the Courthouse Hotel with my two co-stars from the previous time - a fitting conclusion...

I've thought about what I got out of my experience and I've thought about what I might do next... I think I've got a sense of comedy and timing that can be put to good use somewhere, somehow. I need to work on my voice. Too many years of smoking and I've not completely fucked it up, but it has been damaged. Plus I'm out of practice. Good thing I quit smoking just over a year ago. There's still time to do some worthwhile repair work. The other thing I got out of the class is a whole new bunch of friends. I feel good about my prospects

a step in the right direction

2006-12-06T18:09:00.000+11:00

During the course of the 8 weeks I just spent being an actor I came across an auction site for a place in Melbourne that deals in memorabilia and other stuff - autographs, antiques, ephemera etcetera. By chance, I found one auction lot containing old theatre programmes and photographs, including some with autographs. Amongst those that were signed was one of Bettina Welch. I've posted about Bettina before - one of my favourite actresses from Number 96 in which she played arch bitch Maggie "bloody" Cameron. The lot also included an autograph of Letty Craydon, a character actress from stage and screen who died in the 1960s. For a long time she was married to Ron Shand - another favourite cast member from Number 96 (he played Herb Evans). And finally, in the selection of programmes and autographs was one from Natalie Raine. Natalie was an actress/director who died about eight years ago. She also happens to be the first acting teacher I went to when I was about 15. It means a lot to me to come across something personal of hers at this time in my life. I placed my bid on Monday night a week or two ago and headed off to my acting class. When I returned home later that night I had no idea if I'd won - in fact the next day I thought my bid hadn't even been considered and someone else had won the treasures. Then I received an email confirming I was indeed the winning bidder. What a joy! I'm hoping they'll arrive this week. What impeccable timing. I can't wait

december 1st

2006-12-02T00:15:00.000+11:00

So, another World AIDS Day has come and gone. This year I took my time to decide whether I would volunteer to sell red ribbons or not. On Wednesday I emailed my friend Jon to say I had decided against selling ribbons, but I'd like to go to the candlelight vigil with him. About half an hour later I changed my mind and was on the phone to ACON (AIDS Council of NSW) organising a four hour stint in Hyde Park North - selling red ribbons. I had a choice of shifts and chose 3-7pm. I'm glad I did it...

Discovering (admitting?) I am gay came at a time when there was much hysteria surrounding HIV/AIDS. It was the mid 1980s. Had I come out any earlier (just a matter of one or two years), I wonder whether I'd be here writing this post.

At some stage I remember reading a comment from someone who said it's all well and good to wear a red ribbon, but what are people really doing to help the cause. This made a pretty big impact on me and led me to an experience I wouldn't change for anything. In 1994 I volunteered to join the VAC (Victorian AIDS Council). I went to an information session and ended up on a care team. At the time I had just returned to Uni and moved to Thornbury (one of Melbourne's northern suburbs). Being on a care team meant I was put in touch with someone living with HIV/AIDS in my local area. For me, that meant Steph, a gay man in his early 50s who had been diagnosed HIV+ quite a few years (at least 10) before we met. At the time he really defied the odds - it was very rare for anyone to live this long with the virus. Steph's home was within a short walking distance of my place and I vividly recall that first journey from my place to his. It was a journey I made many times over the next few years. Mostly I'd just sit with him and he'd talk (and talk and talk). Originally from New Zealand, he had no family in Australia, few friends and as his health declined he rarely went out.

Then in 1997 I moved across town to Elwood and without a car it made the journey to visit Steph much longer. That didn't last for long. Steph ended up in hospital in Prahran, closer to where I'd moved to. He was in hospital for a long, long time until his death on December 1st. With impeccable timing he left us on World AIDS Day that year. I had the privilege of being with him as he left.

This post does nothing to describe the good that continues to come out of having known this man. It was an unconventional friendship, but one of the most valuable I've ever known. I recognise this almost daily. I was going to write about my experience of selling ribbons today, but that feels insignificant right now. Perhaps another day...

I just want to finish by thanking anyone who bought/sold a red ribbon or wrist band, attended a candlelight vigil or took the time to remember in some way or other

craft

2006-11-25T01:58:00.000+11:00

I've been thinking more n more about memory. It's something I've had an interest in for quite a while, but lately I've been pondering how it actually works and how this can be different for each of us. It fascinates me how people can experience the same event, yet their accounts can be very different. For instance, four people attend a lunch. One will remember what everyone ate, one will remember what everyone was wearing, one will remember the conversation in minute detail and one will question whether they were even there. Personally, I pride myself on my longterm memory and though I can't claim to remember being born (like one of my friends does, ahem...) I can remember a lot of things that happened from a very early age (including such things as being in the pram with my younger sister)

I once started writing a list and surprised myself with the number of things I came up with. I've still got that list somewhere (er, not sure where), but in some cases I don't really recall the event, I just know that it happened. I can remember the names of all of my school teachers (though it's easier for me to remember the earliest ones from Primary school) plus most of the kids I went to school with. I'm also good with phone numbers (though not as good as I used to be) and I can tell you the names and all sorts of trivial details about long forgotten Australian film and TV actors

As for my short-term memory, that went kaput around the same time I started smoking pot (I remember this because it was a long time ago). I'm no longer much of a pot smoker, but I still have trouble remembering what the hell I did yesterday. And this is the other thing that fascinates me. See, I believe every single experience is stored in our memory banks - somewhere - we just need something to trigger off the recollection. It's happened to me with a smell, a word, a song, a photo... I'll suddenly remember something I haven't thought about for years n years and it's as vivid as yesterday (yes, I remember telling you I have no short-term thingo)

Something that piqued my interest in memory was a doco I saw on telly the other night called Unknown White Male. This doco traces the experience of 30-something Doug Bruce, an Englishman in New York who was on the train to Coney Island one day in 2003 when he realised he didn't know who he was or where he was going. With no identification and only a telephone number written on a scrap of paper he pieced together enough details to prevent himself being incarcerated in the loony bin. There are proven medical cases of amnesia, where people eventually get their memory back, but Doug Bruce claims to have never regained anything from before that episode on the train. Having amnesia gave the charismatic Bruce an opportunity to start his life afresh - an interesting concept. The doco looked at how he, his friends and his family coped with having to start their relationships from scratch. There were lots of other curious ideas to deal with too. For instance Bruce remembered how to speak English and French, but he didn't remember learning either language. We saw him experience different types of food for the "first" time and in one scene we witnessed him dive into the ocean without knowing if he could swim (he could)

The doco gave me lots to think about, but after doing some further research it seems the whole thing could be an elaborate hoax. It wouldn't be the first time. About 10 years ago New Zealand born director, Peter Jackson, made a "mockumentary", which sucked me (and countless others) in. But I really don't know. I felt like writing to Bruce and perpetrating my own hoax. In my letter I'd tell him he's actually gay, that we were lovers once upon a time and he takes it up the arse - he just couldn't remember...

Above: Amnesiac Doug Bruce, misty water coloured memories of the way we were

The day after I saw the doco I was discussing memory with a friend. I told him there are three types of memory. He said, "Yeah, longterm, short term and..." (long pause). I replied, "And CRAFT - Can't Remember A Fucking Thing"

90

2006-11-24T22:58:00.000+11:00

My Gran would've been 90 years old today if she was still alive. She was my Mum's Mum and out of all my grandparents she was the one I knew least. The last time I saw her was in 1969 (the year I left England with my immediate family for Australia) and because I was so young I don't have any strong recollections of spending time with her. In 1977 she and her second husband (she divorced her first husband, my Grandad, before I was born) booked a trip to come and visit us, but sadly she died of cancer a few months beforehand. She actually died the same day as Elvis, August 16th 1977, so that's always been there as some kind of kooky reminder

As I've grown older I've had a stronger sense of sorrow that I came so close to knowing her, but never really did. Not in the flesh anyway. I'm sure we would've spoken on the phone now and then (in the daze when you had to deal with echoes and delays) and I know we wrote to one another because I still have birthday cards and at least one letter she sent me, which I treasure. In the letter she tells me that when she was a girl she had pictures of movie stars plastered all over her walls and even on the ceiling. This small bit of information gives me a great insight and a real sense of kinship or something. I've always had pictures plastered over my walls and I've got this love of actors, which none of my siblings share. I can sometimes imagine my Gran and I talking about our favourite movies and actors even though I'm not sure we'd have similar tastes. Thankfully, adding to this image of my Gran, there's a few photos and some Super 8 films that my Dad took all those years ago. I've also asked family members to tell me what they can. My Gran had one younger sister, my Great Aunt, who's now 85 and lives in England and she's been a great source of information. One time I was staying with her and she gave me a photo of my Gran taken at a very young age. It was the first time I'd seen her as a child. The date on the back of the photo (I forget the year) was August 16

farewell robert altman

2006-11-22T11:20:00.000+11:00

Well the film world lost one of its masters on Monday and audiences are in mourning. Maverick director Robert Altman has died aged 81. I came to know Altman's work relatively late in life and although I've enjoyed much of his more recent films, the picture that really mesmerised me was Nashville (1975). I saw it for the first time about 5 years ago at the Chauvel Cinema in Paddington. The last time I saw it was back in April when Cliff was visiting from Melbourne. We sat and watched it together on DVD and loved every minute of it. It's an inspired piece of filmmaking, which I recommend to anyone who hasn't seen it. Add it to your list now.

A year or two ago I bought The Nashville Chronicles: The Making of Robert Altman's Masterpiece by Jan Stuart, which gives a wonderful insight into Altman's work methods plus all the behind-the-scenes shenanigans of the cast and crew. As well as being a great read it's the ultimate companion to the film. A little while ago I was also lucky enough to find a copy of the screenplay, so if anyone wants to come over and play, there are plenty of roles to go round...

What I love about Altman's films is the combination of ensemble casts, intertwining plots and the heady journey this talented director takes me on when he puts it all together. I was so excited to go to the cinema a few weeks back to see his latest (and sadly last) offering - A Prairie Home Companion. And despite my high expectations I wasn't disappointed. There are so many other films too: MASH (which I haven't seen); Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean; Short Cuts; The Player; Gosford Park; The Long Goodbye to name just a few. Robert Altman can certainly leave this planet knowing he made an impact, a valuable contribution. What an inspiration, what a loss

make a wish

2006-11-18T12:34:00.000+11:00

I'm in a good mood today, without much to say, so I'll just post this pic and you can make a wish if you like...

crustacean frustration

2006-11-17T15:04:00.000+11:00

Last Friday night when I was still deciding whether to venture out or not I got a call from Cliff, a friend in Melbourne, saying he'd be in Sydney the following night (for one night only). This made things easy for me. I stayed in on Friday night and had a night on the tiles with Cliff on Saturday. We hadn't seen each other since his last trip to Sydney in April, which is when I introduced him to Palms (my favourite dance club cum pick up joint on Oxford Street). So Palms is where we headed once again. It's always good for a dance if you're into trashy '80s music and homo-disco tunes (think Dolly, Madonna, Kylie etc) and the crowd is attitude free (at one point, late in the night, I stumbled to the bar treading on two people's feet - oops, sorry - and not a nasty word was said - not to my face anyway).

That first time I took Cliff to Palms ended up being a very trashy night (it's also the night I met Jon), but this time we both had commitments the following day (Cliff had to work, I was participating in a photo shoot). It's a pity I was on the horn. When Palms shut at 3am Cliff got into a taxi and went to his hotel and I went home... er via a gay sex-on-premises "club". It was a bit of a waste of time and money ($17 if you're interested and no gratification, despite a fumbled attempt). By the time I got home and into my bed it was 5am. I haven't done this sort of thing for a long time (guess I didn't need to when I was bonking Jon).

So, anyway, a couple of daze later I'm cleaning out a shelf in my cupboard - the sort of 'medical supplies' section: bandaids, sun cream, condoms etc - when I find a package containing crab cream (yes, lotion for dealing with pesky pubic lice. Actually I found two packages of the stuff, but one had already expired so I threw it out). Thank goodness I haven't had to deal with crabs for a while, I thought, as I put the unexpired batch back in its paper bag and shoved it to the back of the shelf. See, apart from putting something out of its misery (which is still an awful dilemma for me) I really don't like killing anything whether it's an ant, a spider, a cockroach or whatever. No, I'm not a Buddhist and I'll admit mozzies give me the shits, but I'll only swat 'em if they land on me and start sucking my blood. Self-defence. And that's why, when I started feeling a bit itchy yesterday I had to do something about it. First thing this morning I fished around in the back of the cupboard for that hidden package and proceeded to follow the directions on the box. How frustrating, especially as I said earlier I wasn't even sexually sated for my trouble. Anyway, I can't sit around here complaining all day, I've got to go and put a ruddy load of washing in the machine...

(Hands up everyone who now needs to scratch)

name game usa

2006-11-15T18:14:00.000+11:00

Speaking of names, I found this name game thingo just before... There is one person with my (real) name in America, which is kind of weird. But apparently there isn't one single person called Nash, which is even weirder

HowManyOfMe.com

There are:
1
people with my name
in the U.S.A.

How many have your name?

mystery solved

2006-11-15T12:54:00.000+11:00

About 3 or 4 weeks ago I met a lovely woman (over the phone) who works in the same field as me. We had a friendly chat and said we would send some information to each other. She sent hers the next day. I, being the procrastinator, have only just sent mine to her. As I was searching for her email address it occurred to me - her name is...Margaret!

moniker

2006-11-15T00:00:00.000+11:00

Sometimes, for no apparent reason, I'll become aware of a name. I'll see it over n over again for whatever period of time. These past few daze it's been Margaret. Now I don't know anyone named Margaret, at least no-one I'm in contact with, so I wonder what it means. At one point I thought it must be all doom gloom and whatever name I was seeing meant that person was surely going to die (heck, aren't we all). More and more I try not to give it a meaning, just let the meaning (if there is one) reveal itself. So instead of thinking, for instance, Margaret Whitlam is about to expire, I just put the name in the back of my mind and wait n see if anything significant turns up. Who knows, now that I've revealed this lil quirk o' mine there might be absolutely nothing about Margaret to report at a later date, but if there is I'll let you know...

ol' silver

2006-11-10T21:36:00.000+11:00

It's hard to define what I look for in a man (although a friend once remarked I'd screw "anything with a pulse"). I don't really have a specific "type". I'm attracted to lots of different men with lots of different looks and lots of different attributes. The range of men I've known "in the biblical sense" (or even just lusted after) would confirm this. There is, however, one physical attribute I can readily pinpoint. So, because it's just started raining here in Sydney and I'm having second thoughts about venturing out tonight I'm going to introduce you to a group of men I call "Ol' silver" (a term of endearment coined by another friend). See, it's all about hair colour. Men who are prematurely grey spin my wheels. Someone else once asked if I had a Daddy complex, but it's not that. Sure, I do like older men, but "Ol' silver" actually refers to young-ish men with grey hair. They're not quite as scarce as redheads nor quite as common - er prevalent - as blonds and I often seem to notice them on the telly - newsreaders/reporters in particular. For those of you in Melbourne where I grew up, think of ABC newsreader Ian Henderson (what a shame he doesn't do a national broadcast). Craig Foster (former Soccer player, now commentator) from SBS is another example and Channel 9 has Walkley Award winning reporter Damian Ryan (below)

In the States they have their own version, the delectable Anderson Cooper (I'm not even sure how I discovered him). Recently seen on the cover of Vanity Fair magazine, Anderson Cooper is a perfect example of Ol' silver. And he comes with breeding and a brain. The son of heiress Gloria Vanderbilt and writer Wyatt Cooper, Anderson is a CNN news anchor who, as a baby, was photographed by one of my favourite photographers, Diane Arbus. As if that isn't enough, Anderson just happens to be single and lives in NYC with his dog. Hmmm. Now that the rain has eased, perhaps I'll head to New York...

Left: Cooper by Arbus circa 1967
Below: Nudging 40 and sexy as all get out!

well i think it's funny

2006-11-09T17:47:00.000+11:00

honky tonk for jesus

i want my dolly

2006-11-09T17:13:00.000+11:00

I've just been cursing n swearing at my compoota and getting pretty vocal over nothing (very unlike me. Really!). I thought I was the only one in the house until one of my housemates wandered through, "Hi Nash, how're you?" and I just know he's heard me ranting...

But I'm okay now because I'm listening to Dolly and calm has been restored. Ahhh

each beast

2006-11-08T22:14:00.000+11:00

I found a book on eBay recently, East Beach, by Ron Ely. Yes, since leaving the jungle, TV's Tarzan has become a writer. I've added the book to the pile and maybe I'll get around to reading it one of these daze. In the meantime, here's a pic I love of Ron with his co-star, Cheetah.

Wish I had a chimp to call my own *sigh*

bedside manner

2006-11-08T11:16:00.000+11:00

Thirty years ago today The Young Doctors debuted on Australian TV. Back then our family still had a black & white telly and I clearly remember seeing an episode in colour for the first time (at my next-door neighbours' house). I was surprised to discover the nurses' uniforms weren't white at all, but a lovely shade of lilac. No doubt this fuelled my frustration with my parents for taking so long to buy a colour TV! This popular medical soapie screened for half an hour, Monday to Friday at 6 o'clock (at least in Melbourne where I grew up) and ran for 6 1/2 years. It was lucky to last that long. Early on in the piece it was axed and not meant to continue after the initial 13 week run, but a last minute reprieve saw it go on (and on) until 1983. With a total of 1396 episodes in the can The Young Doctors went on to break the record held by Number 96 (1218). These daze of course some of our soapies run for 20+ years...

The thing about the The Young Doctors was its reliance on romance rather than serious medical storylines, which probably explains why its cast was loaded with good looking actors and models (some, not surprisingly, with questionable acting ability). I certainly had secret crushes on a few of the doctors...

Like any soap, the cast included some talented veteran performers (Gwen Plumb, Alfred Sandor) alongside the fledgling stars n starlets. Many went on to successful careers in other soapies (Judy McBurney, Paula Duncan, Lynda Stoner, Peta Toppano, John Walton, Cornelia Frances, Rebecca Gilling, Alan Dale, Peter Bensley et al) whilst others have disappeared (sadly about half a dozen have died). Oh, and one young doctor ended up in my bed, but that's another story...

it's getting hot in here

2006-11-06T15:21:00.000+11:00

On Saturday morning I made my way to Martin Place in the city to join with others in the Walk Against Warming. I had no idea what to expect - maybe there'd only be 10 people who give a damn about the future of our planet. The rain didn't help raise my expectations. So when I got to the designated meeting point and saw how many people had actually turned out I was heartened. And the crowd got bigger before the walk got underway. Here in Sydney the crowd estimates ranged from 12,000 to 20,000. What I didn't realise is that this was a global event with people all over the world joining in to say to knuckleheaded politicians ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. It's TIME to do something about climate change NOW before it really is too late...

It's embarrassing for me to be known as a citizen of a country whose gormless twit of a prime miniature refuses to sign the Kyoto Protocol. It's empowering for me as an individual to know that I walked with other individuals and sent a strong and clear message to those dimwits in power

We ended up at the Botanic Gardens. You can see the Sydney Harbour Bridge in the background

medium rare

2006-11-06T14:50:00.000+11:00

My recent post (which mysteriously disappeared) was about John Edward, the medium from Crossing Over who I saw yesterday at the Hordern Pavilion. I went with an open mind and came away feeling far more impressed by the man in person than watching him on telly or reading one of his books. What a moving experience it was as he reconnected young mothers with their deceased children and put husbands (who'd been unable to express their feelings on earth) in touch with their wives. He reunited many others too. His accuracy was amazing, time after time - little obscure pieces of information - and he spoke with compassion, humour and grace. I've had a belief in the afterlife since I was about 11 years old (young?). What I got yesterday was an affirmation that I'm on the right track with the way I try to live my life as well as further insight into the ways of the Universe. I feel uplifted...

grrrr

2006-11-05T20:33:00.000+11:00

F*#k this stoopid blog. For some reason my last post has disappeared even though I know people have seen it...

you gotta hand it to bernie

2006-11-02T22:16:00.000+11:00

So... Jon arrived at my place around 6pm and half an hour later we wandered over to the Hordern Pavilion where we got something to eat and joined the queue (which wasn't very long by this stage despite tickets being general admission). I expected to see a line of young girls, but it was a mixed bag of punters of all shapes n sizes. The doors opened at 7 and I think we got the best seats in the house. Now I'm not good with measurements, but I'd estimate we were 20 metres from the stage (I worked it out based on the pool where I used to swim). We could've stood right in front of the stage, but I like to sit n listen to music these daze. Once upon a time I'd get stoned before a concert, but I realise that's probably why I don't remember too much about the performers I've seen in the past. Instead I settled for 2 cans of beer (compliments of Jon) over 3 and a 1/2 hours and it was all so civilised. We both had a great night.

Melbourne-based singer-songwriter Sime Nugent opened the show - just him and his guitar. I don't know much about him at all, but enjoyed his music and laid back repartee. He told us he'd been playing for 14 years. The audience warmed to him and he was obviously having a good time. There was an air of political savvy about him and I decided he's just the kind of person this country needs to write a decent, modern day protest song and unite us in our fight against the prime miniature and his prosaic 1950s ideals (ruddy dimwit). Next on the bill was Augie March. No doubt about it, they were impressive and I hope to hear more from them. I dunno how to describe their style, but their range of musical instruments included a piano accordion and the lead singer's voice was reminiscent of Jeff Buckley. By now the venue was filling up (estimated crowd 3,500, but there's no need to quote me on it).

And then there was Bernard Fanning. This guy must be feeling pretty blessed at the moment. He took time off from the band Powderfinger to create his own music - stepped out of his comfort zone - and he's been incredibly successful. Apart from multiple awards, chart success and sell-out concerts he's gained me as a fan, lucky thing. I'd like to write a song with him one day. I'm thinking next Saturday afternoon might be a good time to make a start...

Yes, gorgeous Bern. He was having a great time, cracking jokes, camping it up and serenading the crowd with that beautiful voice of his. He sang songs from his ARIA award-winning album of the year, Tea & Sympathy, as well as others that hadn't been recorded. He tickled the audience with a frolicsome rendition of the Benny Hill theme and moved us with Watch Over Me. This was the first of a three song encore, which he came back on-stage to perform after a grand dose of foot stomping, hooting n hollering. He then closed the show with a Led Zeppelin tune, the lights came on and it was all over. At least Jon now knows who Bernard Fanning is, he'd just better keep his hands off my potential new boyfriend (I'm warnin' you)

bf 4 me

2006-11-01T21:49:00.000+11:00

Last night I went to the Bernard Fanning concert at the Hordern Pavilion, here in Sydney. After a few failed attempts at finding a suitable guest to accompany me I ended up asking Jon, whose initial response was "Who's Bernard Fanning?". I didn't think it was fair to tell Jon (my most recent ex) that Bern is the man I desire, so I left it up to him to use "the Google" (apparently this is the latest Bush-ism). In the meantime I wondered if there was possibly anyone else I could've asked...

Bernard had a triumphant night on Sunday when he received some well deserved awards at the ARIAs (Australian Recording Industry Association). And you should've seen him. He looked just a lil bit nerdy with his glasses... and every now n then men in glasses turn me on.

I'll write more about the concert tomorrow

what a crack up

2006-10-31T17:52:00.000+11:00

I'm gonna change the topic soon, but before I do I just have to say, there's only one thing worse than showing your undies (see cover up). And that's showing your undies AND your crack. Ewww! I had the misfortune of seeing it today and it looked something like this...

punkin patch

2006-10-31T10:28:00.000+11:00

Here's something to be afraid of on Hallowe'en

cover up

2006-10-29T21:45:00.000+11:00

I'm not exactly known for my fashion sense, so perhaps I shouldn't criticise, but what's the deal with wearing undies that stick out over the top of jeans? It's ridiculous - unless you're a superhero (and you don't see many of those around these daze). I know I've made some fashion faux pas in the past, but even I can predict the visible undies syndrome is something people will be embarrassed about down the track. What next? Will we all be wearing our socks over our shoes?

fine art

2006-10-29T11:53:00.000+11:00

As the deadline for submitting this year's tax return looms (Tuesday 31st) I'm too preoccupied with doing Google image searches to get my shit together. Besides, my room's so messy I'm not sure it'll be easy to find all my paperwork (anyone wanna volunteer for position of financial advisor? Anyone wanna clean my room?). Every year it's the same, I leave it to the last minute (ahh, the fine art of procrastination). Anyway, enough about that, on to more important issues. Here's a picture of Witchie-poo from HR Pufnstuf (inspired by Miss Litzi's recent post)

it's a heartache

2006-10-28T23:32:00.000+10:00

I can't believe Bonnie Tyler is coming to Australia (she's actually performing tonight), but only doing shows in Melbourne. What a crock. I love Bonnie Tyler and have done since her first hit single - Lost in France - in 1977. I'm sooo disappointed she's not coming to Sydney. First time in this country and all she's doing is two shows in Melbourne n then she buggers off. She must be getting paid a lot...

I guess she's best known for her work with Jim Steinman and the classic 1983 hit Total Eclipse of the Heart. Whilst I like this song and others, my favourite is It's a Heartache, which went to number 1 on the charts in 1978. I'd like to sing it right now as my heart aches for Bonnie, the "female Rod Stewart" (as she was dubbed when I was a teenager). I hope she gets an inkling of how popular she is in Australia (surely I'm not the only fan) and decides to return to do some more gigs, next time in Sydney

It's a heartache, nothing but a heartache
Hits you when it's too late
Hits you when you're dowwwwnnnn

It's a fool's game, nothing but a fool's game
Standing in the cold rain
Feeling like a clowwwwnnnn

Here's a pic of Bonnie (aka Gaynor Hopkins) as she looks these days

winning streak

2006-10-27T19:13:00.000+10:00

At the start of the month I scored an invite to the launch of a new dvd release - Prisoner: Cell Block H - Volume 1 and Volume 2 - the first 32 episodes of one of my favourite soaps (Prisoner, set inside a women's prison, was produced from 1979-86. The Cell Block H part of the title was added for international audiences and to avoid confusion with an earlier British series called The Prisoner). To secure the invitation (one of 15) all I had to do was be one of the first people to respond to an email. Because I didn't recognise the name of the sender I nearly missed out. If I'd taken a friend's advice I would've deleted the email (unread) and been none the wiser. Curiosity obviously got the better of me and in this instance I'm glad. A return email informed me I had been one of the lucky ones. The best thing about the launch was the screening of a previously unseen doco on the series - and the free booze. Val Lehman, who starred as Bea Smith in Prisoner was there to introduce the doco and answer questions afterwards. A fun night...

I've already posted about winning one of 5 double passes to see Holding the Man. Once again it was a simple case of being first to respond to an email.

Now, I don't sit at the computer all day long. Often I'm out and about - especially when I'm working, so timing is everything. Yesterday I picked up a copy of SX magazine (a free, weekly, gay, street paper), which I brought home and started reading. There was an interview with Val Lehman promoting the new Prisoner dvds (and an in-store appearance she's making tomorrow afternoon). At the end of the article I saw SX was giving away copies of both dvd volumes to the first 5 people who emailed the magazine with the answer to a question (Q: Name the prison Bea Smith was transferred to when she left the series. A: Barnhurst. Easy for fans like me). It was late in the day by the time I discovered this latest competition, so I wasn't all that confident of success, but this morning I had the good news. I'd been lucky once again. With the Melbourne Cup coming up, I hope this winning streak continues!

still holding the man

2006-10-24T22:31:00.000+10:00

If you've checked my profile you'll know that I list Timothy Conigrave's memoir Holding the Man as one of my favourite books. Sadly, Tim died in 1994 with his book being posthumously published to much acclaim the following year. As well as being a popular seller, Holding the Man received the 1995 Human Rights Award for Non-fiction. I've read the book a couple of times and what I love about it is the gutwrenching love story between Conigrave (who went on to become an actor) and his partner of 15 years, John Caleo. The pair met in high school during the '70s and their story has become a watershed in Australian literature, being described recently as "our version of Romeo & Juliet." Tragically they both contracted HIV/AIDS with John dying two years before Tim.

Before I'd read the book myself (and based on reviews and word of mouth) I bought Holding the Man as a Christmas gift for a friend (my first boyfriend actually - though our days of being lovers were long gone by this stage). The day I bought it I was returning home on the tram when I saw a girl sitting opposite me reading her own copy of the book. I asked her what she thought of it, telling her I'd just bought a copy for a friend. She said she couldn't put it down. My friend's reaction was the same. I remember him telling me he blubbed his way through it to the end. That's how I reacted when I read it (each time). It's such an engrossing, moving account of first love.

Fast forward to 2000. A friend was performing in a play at the Opera House and invited me along to see the show one night. After that evening's performance we sat having drinks with a few cast members as well as an actress I'd never met before, Veronica, who was performing in another play in the Opera House's other theatre. At one stage Veronica and I got talking and I asked her who she'd gone through NIDA (National Institute of Dramatic Art) with. She mentioned the name of an actor I'm familiar with (who I'm a big fan of actually - and the object of yet another crush). Now this actor gets a decent mention in Holding the Man as one of Conigrave's fellow students, so I realised Veronica must've gone through NIDA with Tim Conigrave as well. I asked her about this and it turns out not only were they in the same year but they were also very close friends. In fact Conigrave writes about her a lot in the book. This was a great discovery to me and gave me a feeling of somehow being one step closer to... I don't know - the book, the author? Whatever it was I was pretty impressed to meet a character from arguably my favourite book. And now for some kooky twists...

Like me, Veronica was a huge fan of Number 96 when she was a kid. In fact I don't think I'm skewing the facts when I say it influenced her decision to pursue an acting career. Ditto.

A short while after meeting Veronica I met Laura, also an actress (though our meeting was not connected to the theatre at all). In conversation one day Laura told me she'd interviewed Tim Conigrave and Veronica for the Equity magazine - so here was another connection to the book and its author.

Lo and behold I'm looking through a box of my memorabilia one day when I come across the one copy I have of the Equity magazine (a memento from my time many years before as a paid up member of the Union). I flick through the old magazine and there's THE interview Laura had done with the two up and coming NIDA graduates. I was thrilled with this discovery.

In December 2001 I was out drinking with Carole (another actress who unbeknownst to me had worked a lot with Laura) when I met Scotty, my now ex-boyfriend (see Still Standing - my original post). I've written about Scotty's cousin before - an actress (see I've Heard It All Before). She is, in fact, Veronica.

We're coming to the end, I promise!

Now, more than 10 years after Holding the Man was first published, Griffin Theatre Company has recently announced plans to adapt Tim's memoir for the stage. Holding the Man will have its world premiere next month.

Being on Griffin Theatre Company's email list I often respond to give-aways, but have never been successful. An email came through earlier this afternoon offering a chance to win one of 5 double passes to see Holding the Man and I replied straight away. I was overly confident I'd win this time - and I did! I'm so grateful, I'm still over the moon. My first choice for a date was Laura because lately she's taken me to see so many great shows as her guest. Although she's the obvious choice, it wasn't until she accepted that I was reminded of her own connection to this wonderful book, soon-to-be play and author.

As far as I'm concerned it's all about the workings of the marvellous Universe. And I can't wait to see the play!

wicked women

2006-10-24T01:32:00.000+10:00

Australian TV has a fine tradition of bitches - in this instance I'm talking about the two-legged fictional ones (yes, from soap operas) - those nefarious characters we love to hate. The trailblazer was Maggie "bloody" Cameron, played so brilliantly by New Zealand born actress Bettina Welch in Number 96 (1972-1977). Bettina was an original cast member of the sex 'n' sin soapy and as Maggie Cameron she couldn't help but wreak havoc on the residents of the apartment block where the series was set. In 1975 she committed the ultimate act of evil when she planted a bomb and blew the building (and four of its' occupants) to smithereens. Maggie Cameron set the trend for other bitches who followed in her wake - Judy Nunn as Vicki Stafford in The Box (1974-77), Cornelia Frances as Sister Scott in The Young Doctors (1976-83) and subsequently as Morag Bellingham in Home & Away (1988- ). Then there were others like Fiona Spence as Vera "Vinegar Tits" Bennett in Prisoner (1979-86) and Rowena Wallace AND Belinda Giblin both unforgettable as Patricia "Pat the Rat" Hamilton (aka Alison Carr - it's soap, of course it's complicated) in Sons & Daughters (1982-87), Vivean Gray as Nell Mangle in Neighbours (1985- ) and lastly Christine Stephen-Daly as Amber in Pacific Drive (1996-2001). It must be great for these actresses to play such meaty, memorable roles. Cornelia Frances has often said how much she enjoys playing nasty.

Unfortunately I never met Bettina Welch, who died about 14 years ago, but I've met a lot of people who worked with her. She was adored by her colleagues and they all say the same thing - she was nothing like her on-screen persona. (The same is true of the other actresses I've listed, the ones I've met at least)...

bonus coincidence file > bettina welch

The other night I was trapped in cyberspace 'til the wee hours of the morning when I came across a reference to Bettina in the 1965 TV adaptation of the classic Aussie novel My Brother Jack. The next night my housemate Tom informed me (un-prompted by me) that he'd borrowed a copy of... My Brother Jack from work. I didn't even know it was available on DVD. Unfortunately it was an overnight loan and he's already taken it back, but I've asked him to borrow it again so I can watch it. I can hardly wait!

no any ols allowed

2006-10-23T23:30:00.000+10:00

In a very early post I mentioned how I discovered Bernard Fanning one night when he was the guest programmer on Rage. Another recent discovery I made watching this music video show is a band called Augie March. Once again I feel like a late bloomer - I'm sure everyone else heard of them ages ago. Their music's great, amongst other attributes it's very poetic and refreshing. I checked out their website and it turns out they record in a little country town where my family holidayed for nearly 30 years. Anyhoo, quite a few weeks ago I bought two tickets to go n see lovely Bernard when he plays here in Sydney (next week) and guess who the support band is? That's right - Augie March! There's just one slight problem... you can't go to a concert with any ol' person, it has to be someone who gets into the whole thing as much as you do, but time is running out and I don't know who I'm gonna give the spare ticket to...

quiz

2006-10-21T17:40:00.000+10:00

I love those quick lil question/answer sessions you find in newspapers (and more and more frequently on blogs). They offer you an insight into other people's views of the world and in turn, allow you to reflect on your own. So with thanks to the latest edition of Good Weekend magazine I offer the following:

My earliest memory is... hard to pinpoint, but it's either singing nursery rhymes, eating dirt or dreaming of Santa arriving in his rocket on Christmas eve

At school I... was easily distracted

My first relationship... was with Television

I wish I'd never worn... stretch denim jeans and moccasins to school on free dress day

My mother and father always told me... to clean my room

I wish I had... all the answers

I wish I hadn't... divorced my wife

My most humiliating moment was... when I realised people weren't looking at me because I'm so hot, but because I'd gone down the street with little bits of toilet paper stuck to the shaving nicks on my face

My happiest moment was... one of many, but playing with orang-utans in Jakarta was pretty damn good

At home I cook... very, very rarely

My last meal would be... prepared by someone else and consist of mashed potato, followed by rhubarb & custard

My favourite gadget is... yet to be invented, but it records your dreams. I'll choose toothpicks instead

I'm very bad at... ball games

When I was a child I wanted to be... older

It's not fashionable, but I love... farting... and the fact that I grew up in Croydon, Victoria (hmm, do you think there's a connection?)

Friends say I am... a good listener/giver of advice

The song I'd like played at my funeral is... obvious - Baby I'm Burning by Dolly Parton

If only I could... fly

The hardest thing I've ever done was... come out to my father (ultimately one of the most rewarding things too)

What I don't find amusing is... being stuck with effing John Howard as prime miniature

I'm always being asked... for money and "did you just fart?"

If I wasn't me I'd like to be... Noah Taylor

My favourite work of art is... Starry Night (1889) by Vincent Van Gogh

At the moment I'm watching... repeats of Sons & Daughters (but you knew that)

If I were a car I'd be... one of those environmentally friendly ones

I often wonder... where my home is

So, there you go. Interestingly, the hardest question to answer was "I wish I hadn't..." followed by "My happiest moment was...". They were difficult because I don't have any real regrets (what's the point?) and I've had so many moments of happiness (often from very simple things).

If you've never done this sort of quiz, why don't you give it a go?

coincidence file > divine intervention

2006-10-20T21:23:00.000+10:00

Almost directly in front of where I'm sitting I have a picture of the fabulous Divine. It's there amongst something like 50 other pics of various performers, animals and hunky shirtless men. Yesterday I noticed it'd come a little bit unstuck from the wall (none of the others had) and was hanging a bit skew-whiff.

Also, during the day (yesterday) when I was out n about I saw the word "DIVINE" written somewhere. I didn't think too much of it, but sitting here tonight I just looked at that Divine picture again and intuitively checked IMDb. Yesterday was October 19th and according to IMDb that just happens to be Divine's (aka Harris Glenn Milstead) date of birth. He would've been 61!

please don't call between 10 - 10:30am

2006-10-20T10:41:00.000+10:00

There have been a couple of comments recently about my preoccupation with soap operas. My favourites are the classic Aussie soaps from the '70s and '80s. The current crop of local soaps - Neighbours and Home & Away - just aren't in the same league (though I do watch them when the mood takes me, or if I know a favourite actor is appearing). About five weeks ago I was delighted-and-excited to discover the 7 Network had started screening repeats of Sons & Daughters, which comes in at number 3 on my list of all-time favourites (behind Prisoner at #2 and Number 96 in the top spot). Sons & Daughters is a tale of two families - the rich Sydney-based Hamilton clan and the working class Palmers from Melbourne. The initial storylines centred around twins Angela Hamilton (Ally Fowler) and John Palmer (Peter Phelps), who had been separated at birth and knew nothing of each other 'til a chance meeting (this satisfied my love of soap and my fascination with all things twin).

Sons & Daughters runs for half an hour each weekday morning from 10 o'clock and so far we've seen about 10 episodes (for some idiotic reason they took it off during school holidays). Despite having seen nearly all the episodes when they originally screened, I'm reluctant to start my day without a dose of the miscreant behaviour of Pat the Rat et al. Now, the series ran for 972 episodes and after quickly doing the maths, I figure it's going to take 3.7 years (minimum) to screen the entire series. So, I'm just warning you, if I don't answer the phone between 10 and 10:30 in the morning you'll know why...

And now, here's part of the theme song:

Sons and Daughters
Love and laughter
Tears and sadness
And happiness

We will find out
Our sons and daughters
Are what we two
Were once about

They don't write 'em like that anymore

promises promises

2006-10-13T21:28:00.000+10:00

I mentioned in an earlier post, pace be with you, how on my last visit to Melbourne I bumped into an old friend and mentor, Brian. I wrote about a promise I made to Brian many years ago, to continue acting...

I'm happy to announce, today I enrolled in an 8 week acting workshop run by three of Sydney's top young directors. I'm really excited by the prospect of working with them. Here I am taking yet another leap of faith. Maybe I'll be a crap actor. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just enjoy the experience.

part n parcel

2006-10-12T17:49:00.000+10:00

Despite never actually declaring myself part of a partnership I can now report I'm single again. Jon and I have parted ways. It wasn't easy and he took it harder than expected, but I had to tell him I didn't see a future for us as lovers. We're attempting to be friends and so far so good. We speak on the phone from time to time and have seen a couple of films together.

Funny, but the night after I broke up with Jon, Scotty turned up unannounced on my doorstep. It was his first visit in years! And he wasn't pissed. He came in and we smoked a joint and one thing could've easily led to another, but I told myself, if I could pass the test and not have sex with Scotty I was allowing someone new to enter my life. I'll keep you posted...

crush (here we go again)

2006-10-08T21:48:00.000+10:00

When I was about 7 years old I asked my Mum if I could join the local soccer team. My brother and 3 or 4 neighbours played and I had the bright idea that I'd like to play too, but Mum said no. She said I'd get sick of it in a few weeks and not want to play any more. At the time I thought she was probably right and it wasn't a big deal...

Mum was right about me losing interest. It didn't take long. That is until last night when I watched my first ever televised soccer match from start to finish. And the reason? Allow me to introduce my latest crush, Lucas Neill. Woof!

and friends say i'm secretive

2006-08-24T20:25:00.000+10:00

Finding our voice. There's a topic to blog-on about. I've been sitting here for 20 minutes not knowing what to start with. Hmmm. And I'm stoned. There. No wonder I'm in love. I went to work to day and fell in love. Some handsome men do my head in. And as much as I'd like to bonk them it goes beyond that. What's that called? Nuts? Yes please, Peanuts. That'll do

beer goggles

2006-08-11T17:38:00.000+10:00

Well, I spent some time this afternoon writing a new post, but somehow I lost it so you can have something to look at instead and I'll try to write something over the weekend!

jocelyn

2006-07-30T14:27:00.000+10:00

Today I'm sad. When I left Melbourne 6 years ago, the hardest thing was leaving my cat behind. Ralfie offered to take care of her for a few months until I settled in somewhere. I guess it took me a while to settle in because at some point - after "a few months" turned into a much longer period of time - I agreed to let Ralfie be responsible for caring for her full time - she effectively became his cat, or 'our' cat. It was a hard decision, though I came to realise I'd done the best thing for her. For various reasons I never thought she'd be happy where I live in Sydney and when she became blind a couple of years ago I knew she wouldn't adapt to somewhere new.

I remember the first time she met Ralfie. I was living in a shoebox in North Fitzroy and he'd come over for a visit - we hadn't known each other long. Joc showed her instant approval of Ralfie by jumping on his lap (not something she did with everyone). That was 10 years ago. I had no idea he'd ever play such a huge role in her life. I stay with Ralfie whenever I go to Melbourne and spending time with Joc was always a delight. Some people said she wouldn't remember me, but she did. On many of my first nights back in town she'd sleep with me like she always had. I got her as a 5 or 6 week old kitten (a Christmas gift in 1990 when she could fit in one hand). We'd been through a lot together - moving house (at least 5 times), different boyfriends (about the same number as house moves), bouts of depression (never counted), good times too - she was always a great comfort. In the last couple of years, as she got older, it was hard to say goodbye to her each time I returned to Sydney. I wondered if it'd be the last time I saw her. So, on my trip to Melbourne about 3 weeks ago I was so pleased to see how well she looked. One day I spent all morning with her just having a love-in, like we used to - me in bed reading, Jocel beside me. When I returned to Sydney there wasn't the dread that I often felt. I'd had a great time with her...

I rang Ralfie last night and he told me Joc wasn't very well. When we spoke again this morning he told me she died at 5:30am. I was awake at that time, thinking about her, trying not to worry, but also sending out a message that if she wanted to go, it was okay. She's not the first pet I've lost and she won't be the last. It never gets any easier. I'm sad, but I'm grateful that for 15 and a half years I had this little creature in my life bringing me joy and love

pace be with you

2006-07-28T16:15:00.000+10:00

Where have I been? I just got off the phone from Jon. I told him I was in a good head space and I wanted to have a night to myself. I just want to write and think and see what happens...

I had a cleansing 2 weeks in Melbourne. Overall. Though I'm not sure where a night on E comes into the game. It was definitely fun (hello Sheila). Saw my cat. Saw my friends n family. Saw Ten Canoes and fell asleep (and I'm still tossing up whether to see it again on the big screen). Saw people I hadn't seen in a long time...

My friend Brian has lived around the St Kilda area for about 15 years now. We met each other 19 years ago. He was running some acting workshops and I went along for an 8 or 10 week course when I was 21 I guess. At the end of that course Brian said to me, "Promise me you'll continue acting" so I did for a few years and I'm sure I will again. In 1995 when I was studying for my BA I made a short film (comedy/musical sort of thing inspired by my wedding.). Brian played the Celebrant in it and once again he encouraged me. At the end of the Gala Premiere Screening of Just Married he came over to me and said he'd enjoyed it and found it better than he'd expected. I described him once as my mentor. Once upon a time we shared a passion for Charles Bukowski. I still do. I imagine he does too. I'll have to ask him next time. Anyway, I was wandering around the streets of St Kilda with Ralfie n Scruff (the dog) when we came across a couple out walking with their dog. It was Brian and his wife and their dog (first meeting with the beautiful wife and the handsome canine). The last time Brian and I had seen each other was when we bumped into each other in the street just over 6 years ago, and only a week or two before I left Melbourne for Sydney. So we caught up again during this recent time in Melbourne and I'd been thinking about him only a day or so before. It was good for both of us.

I'm proud of myself for telling Jon I wanted a night to myself. I'm pleased he was accommodating. Last night he waited for me for an hour. I was working over in Newtown all afternoon and stayed for a chat n a joint afterwards. Jon finished work at 5 pm and went straight to my place (10 mins away). I left Newtown at 6 stoned n feeling fabulous. No coins for the bus and I decided it'd be fun to walk. It was. I walked from Newtown to Central Station mesmerised, singing, full of joy. Caught a taxi home from Central with a great driver (in the end) and a woman who shared to Pitt Street (or somewhere). I walked in the front door, ignored the mail package waiting for me (thanks eBay) and checked messages straight away. I knew Jon would be wondering where I was because we'd arranged to see a film (Solo) at 7:15 and it was now 6:30 or later. Turns out he was sitting out the back laneway in his car - another 5 mins and he'd be gone. Yes, I knew he was coming over after work, I just thought he'd wait to hear from me before arriving.

On the last day of my trip to Melbourne Ralfie hired a car and drove me n Scruff all over the place. It was beautiful and peaceful n relaxing. We saw roos and crazy cats as we travelled from Hurstbridge to Kinglake. We walked along a track in the National Park, took pics, got back to the car and headed through the fog for Mount Evelyn via Yarra Glen, Coldstream and Lilydale. Stopped at a couple of nurseries. Drove up the Dandenong Mountains, ate and headed back to town (via the Laird Hotel in Collingwood). All at our own pace.

Ralfie took the pic

laundry bag

2006-07-04T18:10:00.000+10:00

Tomorrow I'm flying down to Melbourne for a couple of weeks and my bags aren't packed, I'm not ready to go, but that's not unusual. And I'll have to take my dirty laundry with me because I haven't had a chance to do any clothes washing (for over a week). That's not unusual either...

One time I was flying to Jakarta to visit a friend and I had a very late night the night before I departed (I was a student trying to finish off an essay). I woke up when the taxi driver was knocking on my door. Shit! I told him to wait a minute then I had a quick shower, threw some stuff in a suitcase (yep, dirty laundry), kissed the cat goodbye and off we went. When I arrived in Jakarta the first thing I did was get my washing sorted out. I've done the same thing on a previous trip to Melbourne too (though without the last minute dash). I arrive with my (smelly) bag, put the washing on and start my adventures. Ahh holidaze, so relaxing

king of the swingers

2006-06-30T13:50:00.000+10:00

When I was a boy I loved watching Tarzan with Ron Ely as the eponymous hero and Manuel Padilla jr as his sidekick Jai. Something about running around barefoot appealed to me (still does) as did swinging from vine to vine. I really wanted to live in the jungle with Tarzan and Jai and have a pet chimp like Cheetah (still want that pet chimp). I envied Jai and probably wanted to be him or at least be his best friend. I also probably had some idea that Manuel Padilla jr was an actor with one of the best jobs around. I checked the net and discovered that Manuel recently turned 50. This came as a shock because I always thought he was closer to my age. I guess Ron Ely must be close to 70.

I'm not sure, but I was possibly a bit too young to be sexually aroused by Tarzan clad only in his lap-lap, though he certainly stirred something in me (still does). I'd love to meet Ron Ely one day and I'd still like to swing with him

reading my blog

2006-06-28T11:18:00.000+10:00

I think the people at Rove Live have been reading my blog. How else do you explain the strange occurrence last night of both beloved Bernard and dastardly Darren appearing on the same show? I don't make a habit of watching Rove Live but I was happy to stick around when I heard him announce these two "special" guests. Unfortunately for Jon, who was in bed beside me, it meant there was no hanky panky because my interest was elsewhere!

coincidence file > booksellers

2006-06-26T23:34:00.000+10:00

Since living in Sydney I've worked in three different bookstores (though not for a while) and on Sunday I came into contact with former colleagues from all three. I was in a recently opened second hand bookstore on Oxford Street, Paddington when I realised that the girl working there was someone I worked with briefly in my last bookshop. When I came out of that second hand bookshop I walked past the shop where we'd worked together (also on Oxford Street) and I noticed that the girl behind the counter was a girl I'd worked with at my second bookshop. Then when Jon and I got to an inner west shopping centre we were wandering around the supermarket aisles when I almost ran into my former boss from the first bookshop I'd worked in. And I didn't say hello to any of them

insatiable fantasy

2006-06-26T22:15:00.000+10:00

Weeks ago I secretly bought two tickets to see Darren Hayes in concert at the Opera House on July 4th. At the time I wasn't even sure who I'd give the other ticket to. See, there's something I don't like about Darren Hayes (formerly one half of Savage Garden), but at the same time, there's something I find very alluring about him. I don't understand. Maybe that's why I kept it secret. I do find him sexy and talented, but there's something phoney and potentially cruel about him. At least that's my perception. I've never met the guy, so what would I know?

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to ask Jon to the concert, even though we're acting like a couple (spending lots n lots of time together). And now I confess that the reason for this - my delay in asking him - is because I've been harbouring some secret fantasy where Darren Hayes becomes as intrigued by me as I am by him. In my fantasy I would meet him after the show when a mutual friend introduces us (what were you expecting? A scenario where a roadie picks me out of the crowd and takes me backstage? Hmm, I ain't groupie trash). See, this "mutual friend" does exist (he is going to the concert) and with this in mind I just let my imagination go a-wandering...

Then over the weekend, Jon casually said he'd like us to go to the Opera House some time. My response was something like, "well maybe next week", but I didn't elaborate because I still wasn't sure if I'd ask him. And even if I did, I wasn't sure he'd be interested. I had an opportunity to sus things out when we were out and about somewhere and I heard Savage Garden playing (most likely a shopping centre), but I let the moment pass.

On my way home tonight I was walking up Oxford Street, Darlinghurst when who should be coming towards me - Darren Hayes (yakking on his mobile phone) - and no one was paying any attention ('cept me of course). And this gave me an opportunity when I later spoke to Jon. "I saw Darren Hayes on Oxford Street.." I told him. It turns out, yes, Jon would be interested in seeing him in concert (but not if he had to pay) blah blah blah. I've kept it all a bit cryptic with Jon. He doesn't know how long I've had the tickets or how much I paid. I even hinted that maybe Darren Hayes gave me the tickets for free after I saw him in Oxford Street tonight!

The funny thing is, when I saw Darren Hayes in the street tonight, he didn't look nearly as potent as I'd imagined. I'd probably still bonk him though. I'll let you know...