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NEW BLOG: thinkcrylaugh

What I've Done

I've hopscotched with the helpless,
danced with the desperate and destitute,
parlayed with the pitiful and the poor,
skipped with the skittish and scared and scarred.
Talked to the tormented and teased,
appeased the anxious,
did my best, whenever I could,
to soothe the sufferings of suicidal souls

Update

Nice day today. Nice and sunny. Spring. I'm typing this at Fairfield library. Just write. The trees are blowing in the breeze outside. A dog barks.

I'm starting work for the dole again next week. On Monday. I realise that I am using a lot of sentence fragments. I will be doing administration (and some receptionist) work.

I'll be working at a community centre. Not local but not too far away. 20 or so minutes by bus. An image of an owl just entered head. I don't have point. I will be working for a non-profit organisation that offers community services; activities, education, resources and other stuff.

I love autumn and spring. I think I love spring more. I hate summer and winter. I'm not sure I hate more. When I'm in the one I want to be on the other and the vice versa.

"Summer breeze makes me feel fine, running through the jasmine in the mind"

I don't hate summer and winter - just parts of them.

Flocks of cockatoos. Squawking.

I've been posting silly stick figure drawings on Instagram - fun!

I listened to Writing Done the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I've read it before, a few decades ago.
Note for unconscious; compare the two readings.   

Listened to a podcast on Derrida and Theology. The guy whose name I’m too lazy to look up, talked about the monstrous future and Derrida's postulation of a perfect democracy that is always coming but will never arrive.  He used .His argument was that Derrida's thoughts are perpendicular to the scriptures of the Bible.
Deconstruction and The Bible are at odds with each other but oppose common "foes"

Note to self: listen to podcast again. Try to write above paragraph more concisely, clearly, and coherently.

Self to me: Trying is lying!
 Me to self: I know!

I’m feeling a bit vague, sleepy, wistful, and listful.

My life is good at the moment, a bit boring.

As I write this I'm listening to podcast where a 21 year old heroin addict who has been in recovery for a year. She started experimenting with drugs when she was 15. Became an intravenous user when she was 18
her parents are 26 year sober alcoholics. It's sad that people are getting to drugs in 2016. But there are worse drugs tha8in heroin - e.g. gambling.

I've doing research into secular and atheist concepts of humility and humbleness.

Time allocated for blogging is up. I will stop now.

Modtoberfest 5 : My Appraisal

Modtoberfest 5. My appraisal. It was really good. There was a really good turn up of really good people who had a really good time.


DJs Beccy Connell and ベナベンテ ピエール did a superb job on contributing to the good times with their expertise and passion at selecting and playing great tracks - as did Michael Horan and Claudio Herras on level 1.

 
The Freds always put on a great show. But I think last night's was the best. They were tight. Sounded great. And there was the bonus of their lead singer’s smattering of dad jokes between songs.
"I went to a very emotional wedding - even the cake was in tiers!"


The Smart Folk were FAB. They played classic mod covers and original songs from their forthcoming mini LP (extended ep?). The originals were well -crafted 60s (and beyond) mod; power pop, with a flavouring of psyche influences - which the band blends together to great effect. A friend remarked that their originals already sound like classics. True. I recommend buying their mini LP when it comes out.


 Ladies in the audience called out their love and approval to bass player Keith Claringbold.

The Zeros got the people dancing with their authentic sounding Brit Invasion set. They played the 60s classics that everybody knows and can singalong and dance to. Great band. Great musicians. Great harmonies. Their last song was the theme of the night; The Easybeats, Good Times.
 

The Persuaders were the last band to play. A powerful, dynamic trio that played mod and power pop classics (including some from the times of the Years of Sydney mod past). They gave it their all and really got the crowd moving and grooving.


Thanks to everybody involved. Thanks to the people who came. The $15 you paid to get in is going to the Kinghorn Cancer Research Centre. Thanks to the people who threw coins or notes (there were quite a few $50) into the big bowl when it was passed around.
 

Thanks to the Lazybones Lounge, to Craig, to Louis Tritsaris; Tim (?) the sound guy. The bar staff, and Missy at the door. Thanks to all the DJs and bands and anybody I may have forgotten. THANKS!

Rest in peace Deb Wolf, Owen Hagan; Bianca Mascellani and all those taken too soon

 

.

Baby

What are you dreaming about, baby,
as you sleep in that stroller?
Perhaps, you dream of past lives
when you were a king.
 Or, maybe,
of the life you lived as a cat that was crushed by a car.
and reborn a Chinese poet who wrote about rivers and love;
who died in a war forgotten about in history books?

Do you dream of a time
when the blueness of your garments
is replaced by the blueness of your spirit?
 
Could it be that you're not dreaming at all
 that you are just sleeping?

Cheering Up the Bunnies

 Asparagus soup pours from the sky.
The bunnies weep.
Mermaids sing the ocean blue.
An old steam train goes through a tunnel,
and then off a cliff.

Oh! Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils.
Let us go then you and I,
in a pea green sailing boat,
across this asparagus soup pond.
That should cheer the bunnies up.

Out Front of Cabramatta Library

Location: Out front of Cabramatta library
Medium: Yoghurt
Artist: Unknown.

The blue and white object is the yoghurt container that the artist used to create his/her artistic statement. I'm reading said statement as 'S S Fuck U'. I am guessing that S S are somebody's initials. Somebody whom the artist loves and hates. Notice the gap between the first and second 'S' - a gap big enough include an 'O' (Orgasm, Death, Nothingness) 'S O S Fuck you'. What does this absent - present pseudo ghost trace say about the relationship between the artist and S S? Could it be a case of some uncanny Freudian 'Fort- Da' folly?

It has since rained. The yoghurt graffiti would have been washed away. Only the empty yoghurt tube would remain (unless disposed of by a cleaner) - a standalone silent signifier of a greatness gone - like that of the statue of Ozymandias and Liberty ("You finally went ahead and did it! You bastards!)

Oh stranger artist
at what point
did you decide
to stop eating your yoghurt
and use it as tool
of torment against S S?
Or did you indeed
buy it for that purpose?