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The bits
of stuff that fall in the cracks between Life, Music and outrageous
fortune. |
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| July |
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Close
this window to return to Mike Rudd & Bill Putt's Stop Press |
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Alkira's
dyslexic songbook |
The
week that wasn't..
31.7.06 - For some reason I thought it
was August already when I awoke this morning. Maybe it was because
I felt like a horse's arse, August 1st being every horse's birthday
and all, but in any event, when I got to the bank I found out
that it wasn't. August that is. It's been a confusing few days,
probably because I frazzle easily when I'm tired and we worked
two days in succession over the weekend. Being your own roadie
has its compensations, but I'm over it really and prefer to
think that we have no choice; and anyway, who am I going to
whinge to? Apart from you, of course.
Last Friday I'd accepted an invitation to attend the Alkira
Creative Arts Evening. My son Chris goes to the Alkira Centre
in Box Hill during the week, and one of the activities he really
enjoys is music. The course is taken by Belinda Fields, who
as well as obviously having oodles of patience and respect for
the centre's 'clients', has embarked on an ambitious program
of song writing with some of the more creatively inclined, which
allows them an unparalleled moment of self-expression with thoughtfully
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provided by Belinda and her team. This all came to fruition
on the Creative Arts night, and you could tell that everybody
involved was thrilled - both to be performing and part of the
audience. I was particularly moved by a little dot called Emily
Lim and her song These Are The Happy Days - the title
alone is worth reflecting on in this context. I'm sure Belinda
would tell you that these kids (of all ages) with various disabilities
have much unaffected wisdom and optimism to give back to the
wider community, and it's thanks to Belinda and an occasion
such as this that we can catch a glimpse of their remarkable
insights. |
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On
the beach..
1) Melbourne
town's over there somwhere 2) Ladies and gents - yer actual
shags on rocks |
3) Now,
just look into this phone Chris.. |
A
spooky day on the bay
16.7.06 - Chris went to the footy yesterday,
(or he would've gone to the footy if they could've pried him
out of the bus), so I took him out today instead. We had a coffee
in Camberwell and a spot of lunch at home before I eventually
decided we'd tootle off down to the bay and take the air.
You couldn't see the city from Camberwell and there wasn't a
breath of wind to blow away the low-slung cloud which hung over
the bay either, so you couldn't discern where the horizon was,
which made it feel like you were in some enormous film set.
The water was unnaturally still and flat as well, and the occasional
ripple that did disconsolately tickle the breakwater was man/boat-made. |
I paid for an hour's parking at Brighton
beach and Chris and I set off towards Elwood to promenade with
a cross-section of Melburnians ambling, power-walking, skating
and cycling in opposite directions. People were generally chatting
to each other in hushed tones as if to match the almost oppressive
stillness, but I managed to pick up odd snippets of conversation
and extrapolate possible dramatic scenarios, which is about
as creative as I've been feeling of late, as well as continually
marvelling at the stillness and gloominess of it all. There
seemed to be such an atmosphere of imminent calamity it put
me in mind of Neville Shute's On The Beach - maybe
Ava Gardner was right about Melbourne afterall.
In the event we walked some way past the Elwood Surf Club before
turning back, which never suits Chris. Turning back, I mean.
In Chris' world you walk somewhere to do something, you don't
just reach some arbitrary point then retrace your steps. We
tried walking on the sand for variation, but that having a degree
of difficulty in excess of 0.05% suited Chris even less, so
we resumed the walkway. When we got back Chris hung around looking
pissed off for a good five minutes before accepting my invitation
to get into the van, but as soon as we got underway he was back
to his 'honk, honk, toot, toot' best, and the mini-Anzac biscuits
didn't hurt either.. |
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Tell
me more Michael.. |
Confessional
3.7.06 - Every few weeks or so, when I've reached
that point at which I just have to let it all out, I hop into
the Mitzi and point it at Prahran, to Greville St Prahran
to be nearly precise. I park in the Coles Supermarket carpark
(still good value, unlike the Jam Factory) and amble the few
paces to the Babble café, often in company with reverend
Ed Nimmervoll, the very same person I've arranged to meet,
who mysteriously materialises at my side just as I'm about
to pay the meter.
If you know your Oz Rock in any depth, you cannot help but
know of our highly esteemed and equally unassuming Mr Nimmervoll,
but you can only truly know the curative power of a good chat
with Ed if you're a musician. There's something reassuring
in his calm acceptance of the most lurid revelations, in his
rational assessment of 'the biz' past, present and future,
not to mention his abiding interest in my perenniel problem
with procrastination. And, it's probably the caffeine, but
I always manage to have a great crap.. |
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