An unusually warm night, an unusual night.
The last night sleeping in my room, in my house, on my street.
The 303 storms down Crown Street like a junkie that’s run out of cigarettes.
Sunday night traffic, every now and then.
Sitting in the doorway to my house the view is underwhelming.
The lane opposite, where the sun sets in between two terraces with corresponding chimneys.
Goodbye view.
No more Lily Moon,
no more Mangiare,
no more avoiding Coffee Tea or Me.
Whenever I’ve moved house, I’ve always been concerned that after a boozy night out my feet would walk me back to my old house out of habit. That would be a gas.
And to think, the whole year and a half I lived on Crown St, I never got to eat at Fuel. Well I’d say that was my last chance to purchase a $60,000 Volvo with a roquet and goats cheese salad on the side.
In one month this house will not be the home I remember. It will inhabit different people with different smells, different furniture, different drug, eating, sleeping habits.
But the view of the lane across the road won’t change. At least not in the next month anyway.
LINK
When i logged into my blog tonight to write the next installment of CBN i realised i made a link to the part of domain which featured the complete address of a property, instead of a link to just a picture of the house, you know, leaving some anonimity. Now i’m still an internet novice [although i have made my first internet purchase recently, The Ricky Gervais Podcast with steven merchant and carl pilkintonl, which i was very satisfied with, best $9 i've ever spent.] but i’m pretty sure posting a potential address on ones blog is mistake numero uno. I have now broken the link which is why my last post makes even less sense than before, when i tried to play on the song lyrics of Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. How god damn good is Deja Vu? Killer album.
CBN!
Peter Andre and Jordan were enjoying a family day at home when their son Harvey, 4 1/2years, crawled into a bath and turned on the hot water taps and burned the lower part of one leg. Harvey is partially blind and suffers from a growth disorder and trashy parents. Our Peter is also the father of a second son to jordan and they are expecting their third child in only a few months. While Harvey is recovering in hospital, it has been suggested that jordan consider sterilisation as an option.
Filed under: Uncategorized
our house, is a very very very nice. with a big rock in the yard, it used to be so hard.
Filed under: CBN!
Controversy has erupted between celebrity parents in Hollywood recently when Britney Spears was seen out shopping with her son Sean Preston. Britney apparently bumped into No Doubt guitarist, Tom Dumont and his son Ace Dumont. Both celebrity parents noticed their sons were wearing the same baby vans shoes, when asked how much she paid britney answered $25. Onlookers say Tom was horrified to reveal that he had paid an astounding $10 more for exactly the same shoes. An insider reveals the celebrity guitarist is in crisis talks with close friends and family offering their support.
Filed under: Uncategorized
when one dreams of moving house, one dreams the street will be named 1 bungay st.
when one dreams of a backyard, one dreams of it made completely of stone.
when one dreams of their bedroom, one can only hope its next to the kitchen.
take a piss in their toilet, and lets go.
Thank god New Years Eve passed by without anyone [I know] really noticing.
New years eve last year and we got all adrenalised and fired up went to a warehouse party at fucken lan franchis hunted around until dawn, broke into a public pool got caught by the police, copped a lecture and went home to sweat out a 45*c day.
I am so sick of that story, just from me telling it. So thank god the beginning of the 2007 new year just slipped by, with a super fun but quaint backyard soiree in the burbs.
No fuckwits, no warehouses, no ironic fashion.
Just The Smiths, a cat and your mum.
2006-What a fucken mediocre year. It was the year of depressive trauma, pathetic habitual duties and paperwork. I think it was halfway through the year that everything started going pear shaped. Started getting tired. Tired of the surry hills, tired of the posers, tired of the yuppies, tired of the junkies, tired of the noise, tired of the Shakespeare. Wanting to kick the barstools from under the thirty year old local drunks and scream ‘get the fuck out of here run run go away stop drinking get some sun have a glass of water the only thing you have in common with each other is alcohol!’. But they’ll never move and I’ll never scream.
My mum decided she wanted to holiday in Spain with her best friend over the Christmas break, and while she was never the type of mum to be late picking me up from school, or left me at netball practice or a friends house, in this instance, you could say I felt somewhat abandoned. But I let it go. I said I love you have a great time bring me back a t-shirt. I’ve received a couple of emails from her saying she is having a great time and that she and her best friend have been drinking a lot of wine. I didn’t take this seriously until I received a card for my 23rd birthday that read as follows:
Happy Birthday
22nd one
is very fortunate
and full of fun
$50 to spent
on ‘U’
Well right off the mark she got my age wrong and I’m not sure whether that little ditty is meant to be a poem or what but I don’t know what it means. To me its like the unintelligible ramblings of a serial killer. Not to mention the use of txt msg jrgn. Sloppy parenting, but I’m willing to hold 2006 accountable. The fallout of the most substandard year.
Filed under: claude
this is my friend claude, he has just woken up!
time for a cup of tea.
when it’s time to go for a walk we say;
‘C-laude! it’s your time to shine little man’
and claude comes running.
after the run claude is tre tired.
…so we have a nap
then it’s time to go get a coffee.
we can never agree on where to go out at night,
claude always wants to dress all slutty
and go to cargo bar to pick up bitches…
…by the time we’re done arguing he’s all tuckered
out again.
goodnightclaude!
Filed under: death
sit next to me and snuggle up close
whisper in my ear, whisper in my ear
the obvious size of her breasts and
how you would like them in your mouth.
drink more beer, drink more beer and
take me through every curve of the
child’s naked body
please please please share with me
your inner most thoughts as she
takes a piss
whisper in my ear, whisper in my ear
I can’t stand it when you’re silent
laugh at the heartbreak and sigh
when you are bored, snuggle up close
sit next to me and snuggle up close.
Filed under: Uncategorized
…is the best way to describe kevin rudd.
Apparently he has a slot on Sunrise with Kochi (or whatever the fuck his name is) and that vapid wench that says “zackly” whenever koshi ejaculates his unwanted opinions all over her charming pencil skirt.
the prawn salad by bill granger.
the text and internet slang used by our teens.
the [offensive] joke segment. It’s all on there.
In fact the only useless piece of shit i didn’t see on seven fucking sunrise, was kevin rudd.
