RADelaide

Had organised a 6 week holiday beginning this month, only to find out that Kris Kristofferson is touring the country. The lone Australian date he had scheduled before I was due to fly out is in the goddam city of churches itself, Adelaide. Realising he’s pretty old (83, I think) and probably won’t be touring again, I figured it’s really now or never if I want to see him perform live. He’s one of my favourite songwriters ever. While he might never be described as a vocal powerhouse, his limited singing ability is aspirational for me. Plus the gig is at Thebarton Theatre, which I’d heard of and had a vague desire to visit. This is a two for one, So I bit the bullet and booked an overnight in Adelaide the night before I’m flying out to The Europe.

I’m typing this having just got in from the show/a quick nightcap at the pub (Prancing Pony do a very agreeable amber ale, almost make you think you were in Middle Earth or some shit). Mixed feelings, I wanted to see him play, and I did. He was better in the second half, the crowd got into it a bit more; still very subdued, it was very much an older crowd. For me ally his stereotypical country breakup songs he has, took a different meaning. Like he was saying goodbye in a much more definite, final and mortal way. Particularly when he played For the Good Times near the end of the whole show, I got a little teary. It felt like an old man at the end of his powers almost playing his own last rites.

Scott Joss (check spelling) as part of the backing band was brilliant. He mostly played fiddle, including one blistering solo that left his bow trailing a few hairs, but also some guitar and took lead vocals on a few tunes. Vocally was much more at the height of his powers. Not quite the bass of Kristofferson, but had an almost Nelsonesque warble, clear and commanding. I could’ve probably quite happily listened to more of him, if it weren’t for the fact the Kris was the man I’d come to see, and see him I did.

I could go on, but I’d just be rambling. If you have the opportunity to see him on the rest of the tour, then do it. And if you find yourself daring to think that maybe he’s over the hill, then make believe you love him one more time...for the good times.

My phone died while I was waiting to board the plane in Brisbane, but luckily I found a potato in the gutter out side the theatre. Please enjoy these spuds eye views of the concert

Rosebud

After posting this I’m going to and shop online for something to wear for next month’s “Funky Sock Friday.” I may work 9 to 5 in an office, but I still have a personality dammit! I prove it by joining half the office in wearing colourful socks on the first Friday of every month. Send through pics of your favourite funky sock! I will decide may favourite. 

Socks will be judged on the following criteria:

• Theme
• Use of colour and movement
• Funkiness
• Danceability
• Lighting and mood
• Sockervescence

Winner of favourite funky sock will get a message notifying them of their victory. An unframed, A5 sized “Best Taste in Funky Socks” certificate available on request, but can only to ship to Australian addresses. Winner will be announced at some point, probably. All judgements are final, unless there’s an official protest or I change my mind.

The below wasn’t the piece I was intending to finish today, but it is about as appropriate to my current mood. I guess if I was in the mind to make it heart-warming or inspiring, I’d try and finish it by saying something like - “the time is now, roll up the sleeves and get on with the job. You put yourself here and it’s up to you to pull yourself out.” But all I can say to that right now is, if you want that, go watch Dead Poets Society, or read some Walt Whitman and carpe diem or whatever. Go get uplifted someplace else. The best you’re getting here this week is a hokey totally genuine sock competition.

Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May
John William Waterhouse - 1909

Rosebud

I used to have the time,

All the time in the world.

To sit and ponder nothing,

Or dream of pretty girls.

To line all my tomorrow’s,

With wonders yet to come.

Or lay back and reminisce fondly,

On wild parties, and good fun.

I’ll get to it next week,

Next month, or even next year.

“Hey slow down what’s the rush?

Let’s relax with another beer.”

I miss those times of ease,

When life slipped by so slow.

Now I’m in a rush,

Everywhere I have to go.

Losing touch with childhood friends,

And best mates with a hundred bills.

No more room for late nights, or late starts,

No more room for Sunday thrills.

They tell me it is maturing,

Getting responsible, growing older.

I find all it ever does,

Is make the world seem a little colder.

A place so full of promise,

Full of wonderment and lust,

I find now to be hollow,

Empty, meaningless dust.

No more ‘next year’s

Only yesterdays.

A life once full of ‘what if?’s

No place now for ‘maybe someday.’

Still the seasons continue to pass,

And the years they slip on by.

I can’t help but now think,

Did I ever even try?

Seriously though. Life is never quite so bad when you’re equipped with a really solid functional pair of socks, no matter what they look like.

Abstinence Now

Abstinence Now 

Capt. Benjamin Willard: Toowong… Shit... I’m still only in Toowong… Every time I think I’m gonna wake up back in the bottle. When I was sober after my first month it was worse. I’d wake up and there’d be nothing. I hardly said a word to my flatmate until I said yes to moving out. When I was there I wanted to be here. When I was here, all I could think of was getting back into the bottle. I’m here a week now, waiting for a drink, getting softer. Every minute I stay in sobriety I get weaker. And every minute Charlie holds up the bar he gets stronger. Each time I look around the walls move in a little tighter…

Nearly two weeks into my annual “No Drinking Between New Years and Australia Health Kick.” Leaning on sobriety to try and coax my body’s vital organs into hanging on for another 12 months. I’ve taken to walking to pass time. Just this morning I was rambling through the park, coming up behind a lady with this heavy duty looking double shoulder brace contraption. I was trying not to stare while I wondered what sort of horrible life changing accident she’d been through to have to wear such a thing.

As I passed I realised it was a baby carrier containing an infant.

 
That’s some sort of life changing accident right there…

Chief: Captain. You’re giving away our Fourex for a Playmate of the Month?

Capt. Benjamin Willard: Nope… Playmate of the year. 

Colonel Kurtz: I watched a worm drowning in a bottle of tequila. That’s my dream; that’s my nightmare. Drowning, choking, in a bottle of tequila… and surviving.

As you can see the Bin Chicken Ballet is in town
I passed by this danseuse in the park
displaying a textbook first Ar-Ibis-que

Lt. Col. Kilgore: I love the smell of Bloody Mary’s in the morning.  

Smells like… Victory… 

I probably need to take more water next time I go for a walk.
Think the sun got to me and I might’ve got a little dehydrated there…

Capt. Benjamin Willard: Every man gets everything he wants. I wanted a drink. And for my sins they gave me one. Brought it up to me like room service... 

Tickets Please

Tickets Please

Well, it’s coming up on that time again. I am running low on loo roll. Nothing quite like buying a fresh supply, I always gravitate towards the largest pack available. Kinda like buying the highest rated SPF sunscreen, just gives you the extra security that comes with maximum coverage. If all else fails, and I’m stuck on the Mi Goreng Noodles for a week, then at least I’ll have the dunny paper to wipe up the ensuing shitnado*.

I get such relief from buying toilet paper, that I don’t even have to be the one buying it. I merely have to witness it. In some kind of almost reverse schadenfreude, just watching a complete stranger walk out the shop with a 30 pack under the arm, I get a great sense of contentment from that.

Now all is right with the world. Trump hates the West and is probably in bed with the Ruskis, there’s more plastic in the ocean than fish…but that person who I’ll never see again can go home and take shits without any worry of “emergency showers” to clean their bot-bot.

“Tomorrow will be the most beautiful poo of Raymond K Hessel’s life. His bowel movement will feel more satisfying and complete than any toilet session you or I ever experienced.”

Waking up with an urgent call of nature on the line, then remembering that you got a fresh pack of poo tickets...better than waking up thinking you're late for work, only to realise it's Saturday.

And this bad boy will keep those mornings rolling in for months to come-

Featuring love handles, just like me!

Yeah my floor could do with a sweep, who are you, my mother?

(Hi Ma if you're reading this)

*Mi Goreng Noodles give me the diarrhoea, explosively. But they're pretty tasty ay...

Got to Keep on Risin’

Got to Keep on Risin’

I don’t normally touch politics. I think the whole nest of nest of snakes that is the parliament is just a clusterfuck of self-important, and immature whiny brats who, while gifted in the sense of entitlement, lack senses both common and of purpose.

However, the new PM, Scott Morrison, just got me thinking about another Morrison. Namely one James Douglas Morrison, AKA Jim Morrison, and specifically The Doors song L.A. Woman (from the album of the same name) and how I remember learning (probably read it in a magazine), that the Mr Mojo Risin’ lyric was an anagram of Jim Morrison.

I thought that was pretty neat, and got me to thinking, “Is it possible to give the new PM his own anagram?” If I was any good at anagrams, then the answer to that question would probably be a yes. But, you might have already realised where this is going, I’m still going to list, in no particular order, my top 8-

Scott Morrison

• Orc is most torn
• Tot cons Morris
• Or trim no costs
• Sort moist corn
• Most rort coins
• O’ strict morons
• Trim scrot soon
• Corn soon Mr. Tits

What’s your Scott Morrison anagram? Comment below and three best anagrams will win* a soy fish** that’s only been sat in my cupboard for 9 months!

*Prizes will not be posted, you must be at the pub next Friday during the meat tray raffles to claim in person.

**Not a real living fish, just a fish shaped plastic container full of soy sauce.

Had a leadership spill about an hour ago

Took a look around, to see which way the votes go…