A Thousand Shades of Twilight

La Regle du Jeu

I have been tagged by the Lovely Elizabeth of Love, Elizabeth fame! 

I have always responded well to structure (that may surprise those of you who have caught me in the throes of an interpretative dance) and have, therefore, enthusiastically embraced this format. It makes me feel like one of those celebrities who get interviewed in magazines and asked questions such as 'How do you react when you see a nun?'

So, fasten your seatbelts ....

Meme Rules:
1. Respond and rework. Answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention; add a question of your own.

2. Tag eight other un-tagged people.

What is your current obsession? I like to sing the jingles to furniture ads, but I do find some of the recent jingles on local television a little challenging. In particular, the Beaumont Tiles ad which could be best described as an 'homage' to Donna Summer's 'I feel love'. The tune eludes me, (in a similar fashion to Dear Patient M's favourite tune, 'Sophisticated Lady'). But I persevere, none the less.

Oh, and this:

Winter is coming on, and my thoughts turn to Kate Bush. This is a lovely home made clip set to her song 'An architect's dream'. I love the imagery. It was created by StanRd2005 and posted on Youtube.

What do you see outside your window? A large, round, corrugated iron, rainwater tank, some deep red leaves on the grapeless grape vine, some pink hibiscus. And some refreshingly green weeds. When I first moved in, I foolishly thought the tank was a space-wasting eyesore. That was before the drought.

If you could have any super power what would it be? Invisibility.

Which animal would you be? As much as I would like to say a lion, gazelle or a peacock, the reality is probably closer to a sloth, a tapir or a silly old goat.

Who was the last person you hugged? A friend from University who I have not seen for 10 years. And, before that, I embraced my sweet embraceable, my irreplaceable Dear Patient M.

What is your favorite color? I am partial to mint green, powder blue and baby pink. That said, I like most colours apart from certain shades of yellow and brown. Especially when it comes to cars.

What’s your favorite food in the whole world? I am just nutty about nougat!

What’s the last thing you bought? A pair of old-style grey desert boots. It was only once I got them home that I realised I had just, in fact, bought a pair of grey shoes. And gasped. I would only countenance grey in a desert boot and they work surprisingly well.

What are you listening to right now? I have I-Tunes on random. I do have a number of different playlists with titles such as 'Winter is Blue', 'Autumnal Longing' and, tellingly, 'Hangover music.' But at the moment it is just on random. Currently I am listening to 'Consolation Prize' by that great Glaswegian straight-but-unafraid-to-be-sissies band, Orange Juice. Sample lyric:

I wore my fringe like Roger McGuinn's
I was hoping to impress
So frightfully camp, it made you laugh
Tomorrow I'll buy myself a dress.

I have always found the refrain, 'I'll never be man enough for you' oddly comforting.

If you could buy one object right now, what would it be? It is not exactly an object, but I would not mind purchasing a new stomach.

What’s on your bedside table?  A framed photo of Dear Patient M with a big smile on his face, a book about the Langhornes of Virginia, a lovely collage by Magic Jelly featuring budgerigars, the remote control for the air conditioner, a phone that always becomes unplugged, some little cards with some of my favourite Flickr images on them, and a doyley made by my dear departed Grandmother (she of Ladykillers fame).

If you could have a house totally paid for, and fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be? Out of the places I have already been, I am partial to the idea of Berlin. But the States is also calling me.

What would you like to have in your hands right now? Ooh Matron! My retirement carriage clock. Failing that, a martini.

What is your favorite children's book? They are legion. For the pictures: Yellow yellow by Frank Asch and Alan Stamaty. For the kind-of-kitsch but Sentimental Aussie Favourite: Peg's Fairy Book by Peg Maltby. For the pervading sense of melancholy: Moominsummer Madness by Tove Janssen. For the jolly good romp that made me want to live in Victorian times: The story of the Treasure Seekers by E Nesbit. For the vividly remembered colours and atmosphere: Charlie, Charlotte and the Golden Canary by Charles Keeping. For teaching me that life was inherently unfair: The Shrinking of Treehorn by Florence Parry Heide, illustrated by Edward Gorey. I could go on...

What is your biggest fear/phobia? Having my mind go blank while public speaking. Perversely, I have embarked on a career in which a certain amount of public speaking is unavoidable. And in which my mind often goes blank. A few grasping seconds feels like a lifetime of paralysis.

What's the bravest thing you've done in the past year? I have changed jobs, something which was unthinkable this time a year ago. The bravest thing I have ever done in my life was to chase a man who stole my wallet and make him give it back to me. His lack of manners peeved me immensely and I found a strength and agility I never knew I possessed.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to?  It is a toss up between Frederick Von Something or Granville LaCruise.

What did you want to become as a child? A ballerina. Failing that, an author who illustrated his own books. A bit later, I wanted to be a go go dancer, a back up singer or a cactus farmer.

What posters/pictures do you have on your bedroom wall? The Fellini poster above, a painting by my dear friend Nookabel called 'Tree and birds' (it is inspired by a World Record Club cover), a photo of a Tretchikoff print taken by an estranged friend, a framed fragment of a record cover which in my mind is titled 'Love in Dusseldorf', two reproduction travel posters (one for Chicago - Vacation City, the other for Bill Rose's Aquacades), and two of Dear Patient M's Lomographs. There is also a ceramic Toucan on a perch hanging from the ceiling.

What were you wearing at your 21st birthday? A 70s Photoprint shirt featuring Gustav Klimt ladies, a white scarf that belonged to my father, a powder blue velvet dinner jacket, black velvet flares, and eyeliner. The theme was The Long Frock and Big Hair Affair.

What was your first job?  Working from midnight to 8.30 every Friday and Saturday night pushing pancakes to drunks in a seedy 24 hour dive. I did that for four years and am still recovering.

Say something to the person/s who tagged you: Elizabeth, thanks for the tag - I have enjoyed this! You know you continue to inspire me, care for me, move me and make me laugh as you do with many other of your devoted fans! You're the tops, you're the Colisseum..

Post a favorite childhood photograph of yourself.

 

Here is a photo of me parading about with a potty on my head, wearing a skirt made from an old man's singlet and some leaves. I was having a grand adventure, no doubt. The photo was taken in about 1976 when we lived in Melbourne. The shadow belongs to my big sister, Finn the Poet. My dress sense has only improved marginally since.

What is your plan for tomorrow? To survive.

Now, I am suppose to tag another 8 bloggers. I am not sure if I actually have 8 blogging friends. So I will simply say, if you want it, consider yourself tagged. I would recommend it - it is good fun, bordering on the therapeutic.

Oh, and PS: How DO you react when you see a nun?

The Ghost of Go-Go Dancers Past

(Video posted on Youtube by Edcadence. The song "Candy" is performed by Les Rhythmos and is a tribute to Candice Green. The song is apparently 'about Candy being the best go-go dancer on the planet'!)

It has been a while since this humble blog has featured any wild (and wildly irrelevant) go-go dancing. Given that it has been an utterly delightful, busy yet "tiring" weekend, and I have absolutely nothing at all to wail and gnash my teeth about, I am capable of doing little more than sharing this inspired silliness with you. Oh, to be the best go-go dancer on the planet! Instead of a creaking old lump!

Enjoy!

Hark, the stupid angels sing!

 

(Found photo from Europe, date and photographer unknown)

Well, the host of Deal or no Deal has been caught drooling in a gutter outside of a nightclub, crawling on all fours like a dog, and babbling about kiwi fruit. Cars are being set alight in Adelaide. Everyone looks tired. The Stupid Season is well and truly upon us!

I am pestering folks to nominate their least favourite Christmas song. For me, I always assumed that it was something contrived and unspeakable like Jingle Bell Rock, I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus or Frosty the Fucking Snowman. But then, in a flash of inspiration, I realised that it was that most mean-spirited of ditties, We wish you a merry Christmas. Since when is it acceptable to turn up unannounced at some poor soul's house DEMANDING figgy pudding, and refusing to leave until said pudding is provided? I mean, who ARE these people? I have a few choice ideas about what they can do with their figgy pudding.

That said, there are some top Christmas tunes that appeal to my melancholy ear: God rest ye merry gentlemen, What child is this? and the strictly advent hymn whose lyrics mystified the child-me, O come, o come Emmanuel. So, grudgingly, I confess that I do not think Christmas is entirely evil. 

I must say to anyone reading this, that I really appreciate any skerrick of interest that has been shown in this rather juvenile blog during its first year. I hope that you, all my loyal readers (both of you!) have a lovely holiday, christmas, hannukah, Wicker Man-style pagan ritual, existential malaise, binge or whatever it is you do at this time of year. Enjoy your families, the food, the pretty lights. And just remember: no one can make you sing anything you do not want to sing. 

God bless Lili St Cyr!

(Video clip of Lili St Cyr interpreting Ebb Tide posted on Youtube by brutallodotcom).

My, how life does ebb and flow! I must say, at the risk of sounding annoying, that the flow has been pretty darn pleasing lately.

You may remember that, a while back, I was whining ceaselessly about work and the fact that, to quote The Eagles (as, in my scholarly manner, I am often known to do), it appeared that I could check out any time I liked but I could never leave. In a nutshell, I posited that (in no particular order):

1. Someone would block my progress because it did not suit them

2. I would apply for a dog of a job

3. I would have a few good weeks and decide that things were not so bad after all

4. Someone would guilt me into staying.

Well! What has transpired since then has been pleasantly surprising. I, after seven years of the same old shit, have landed myself a new job. Here is what occurred:

1. The person involved could not have been more supportive. I think she realised that you can only block a person like that once, and that after that it becomes, well, a little rude. A little awkward. Perhaps I should be paranoid about her zeal for helping me move on. But I cannot even muster up much enthusiasm for paranoia lately. (What is this cursed sunniness that has descended upon me? Will I have to change the name of the blog to A Thousand Rays of Sunshine? Personally, I would cross the street to avoid a blog with a name such as that. If blogs, indeed, used roads).

2. I spoke to the (most excellent) woman that I am replacing and she said that she never realised she could be so happy in a job until she found the position that I am to fill. She is only leaving under sufferance because her services are required elsewhere. And, most significantly, she keeps a record player in her office and when the computers are down, is joined by her colleagues in dancing about like loons to old rock and roll 45s. That is all I need to know. My people.

3. I cannot overstate this. Contrary  to my usual bent, I managed to maintain the rage. Lord, how that rage was maintained.

4. Well, he did try. Before I had even told him, I was greeted at work one morning with an email entitled YOU BASTARD. After checking that it did, in fact  refer to my desertion rather than the multitude of other reasons that such an email may be sent, I laughed hollowly and began to clear my desk.

So, all very exciting.

The other exciting thing is that I am on two weeks holiday! (Yes, even we Recovering Melancholics get excited about holidays). Darling M and I will be traveling to un-Sunny, storm-ravaged Queensland (the weather thus confirming my world view yet again) to celebrate Mama Twilight's 70th birthday (and Dear Patient M will get his first real taste of the Twilight Family Mania en masse).This means that there will be a temporary lull in my blog postage, a barely perceptible blip. But I promise, or threaten, to be back soon. Who knows, I may even have a TAN. Ugh. (Actually, I intend to spend my holiday like Dear Lili St Cyr above - lolling about on a beach, eating bananas in a seductive fashion and throwing scarves about in the breeze...)

And, if I may appear at risk of going soft with all that sunniness, I will take on board the sobering message purveyed by Brook Benton and his groovy pals below. Yes, I am aware that all of this unbridled glee may simply be nothing more than Go-Go Dancing In The Face of Adversity and The Unavoidable Truth..

(Video of Brook Benton and friends performing Mother Nature, Father Time posted by Afronutz on Youtube)

So, until I return, keep smiling. Or be glum, and cry. Both are perfectly respectable options, really.

The Rites of Spring (or, "An Uncharacteristic Lightness of Being")

(Youtube clip shows Pan's People dancing to The Hustle on Top of the Pops, posted by TVInsiderV)

'What has come over him?' I hear you ask.  "Why this Pan, and his People and their less than lustrous Hustle?" Ah, friends. I can assure you that I have not entirely taken leave of my (less than pristine) senses. I have not recklessly abandoned Melancholywood for a land of Babydoll dresses, come-hither hitchikin' thumbs and inexpert formation dancing. I just thought that, right now, everyone could do with a bit of a laugh, or failing that, a wry smile. This clip perfectly encapsulates my mood. It is just an aberration, no doubt, but I finally felt my sensation creeping back this week. I cannot ignore Spring any longer. Yes, work continued to be loathsome but I somehow found it easier to live and laugh at it all. To notice my fellow-travellers, not just my navel. It was as though I sat bolt upright on Tuesday, scales fallen from my eyes, ready to face the world again. Oh, how my endless self-absorption of the last few weeks has wearied me. Not as much as it has wearied us, I hear a wag from the (modestly-sized) audience hiss, to muffled laughter.

So, here is a smattering of the week's bounty:

1. I was vindicated in the Great USB-stick Bungle of a few weeks ago. The blooming documents were on that cursed stick all along. I was so excited that I took a screen dump. As unsavoury as that may sound.

2. The gods of scavenging smiled on me. Just when I thought the well had nearly run dry. It gives me hope. Below is a tantalising glimpse from Quest for the Queen of Begonias. The rest will turn up on Flickr at some point.

3. Dear, dear, Madame D returned from a trip to Capetown in one piece, despite flying Qantas. Yesterday she presented me with my very first, my one and only, my never to be replaced............

                                             KAFTAN!!!!!!!!!!

I cannot overstate the significance of this happy square of fabric as a mood-improver.  I slip it over my head and I want to emit a high-pitched squeal. I slip it over my head and bluebirds pull it down for me (modesty delicately preserved in the process).  I slip it over my head and I AM Bea Arthur in Maude.

(Darling M, meanwhile, rocks in the corner, trembling and moaning softly at the prospect that I will, as is my wont, normalise the whole muu-muu experience and soon be tripping off to the shops in it. I assure him he need not worry. He nods and his laugh is of a higher pitch than usual...)

But back to Pan's People. You may have, by now, noticed that my insatiable thirst for meaning leads me to look for the lesson in nearly everything. So here is what I have gleaned from Pan's People dancing The Hustle:

1. It is ok to be crap

2. It is ok to be out of sync with those around you

3. Smile. Smile. Smile.

 

(Detail from advertisement for My Mother lives in Cincinatti in After Dark, November 1972.)

In closing, I just wanted to say Peace and Love to you all. Be free. As you can be.

And I promise to be miserable again next week.