listening to music (and using brackets)

The little guy is asleep, so no loud music. And when he is awake, no properly loud music (although he is quite tolerant of 70's progressive jazz and is very fond of the Hooley Dooleys). So tomorrow, when he has his first long day in the day care centre, mummy is going to play SOME VERY LOUD MUSIC.

Right now, it's the Dissociatives, but after that on the changer is the latest John Frusciante record, for the simple reason that it's the 2nd best there is (the best is his last one, which I have heard approximately one million times). When I first started listening to his music, it was because O loved it. His solo records (Frusicante, not O) were quite frightening. Or, as my beloved Lisa would say, fridening. But you can ignore those, and just hook into the amazing and more accessible stuff. I recommend that you do.

Alone in a crowd

My husbang O has finished his old job and has gone on a mini-break to Melbourne. Leaving me alone with a toddler, a cat, a dog, a laptop and possibly too much wine. I have spent the evening reading the archives at Gianna's blog and having illicit fags on the back step.

After reading those archives, I am reminded of my very dear friend Beck, who witnessed a car accident with Deborah Mailman. They chatted briefly and Beck said she thought - you're so cool! I want to be your friend!

I love that her sensitivity and love for humanity is so apparent (Gianna, not Beck, obviously!), so unaffected, and so appreciated by thinking types,* even ones whose leanings I don't share. And I love that Angela Shannahan and Bettina Arndt shit her as much as they shit me. (I don't get why they cut all the slack one way, and why things always have to be cast in such stridently gendered and oppositional terms. And I must say, it is very nice to be able to call someone strident when they are. I'm all for accuracy.)

And as the parent of a cool little guy who was something of a suprise in a then short-lived but fortunately continuing relationship, I respect her strength and resilience and the amount of work she has done with her very attractive little Harley.

OK, and I'm a bit shit scared because this weekend I'm flying solo, with no Dad-dad 'til Monday night.


* forgive blog newbieism, I can't seem to link to the particular entry I'm talkin' about, which is headed "Downer's Tough Call on Spain, Philippines Right" ... which goes part way to explaining the "don't share" part.

Things that are just not necessary

I read in the weekend smh about "whisper marketers" who bugger up your dinner party or your train trip (should you be lucky enough to have one of those) spruiking brands in the guise of conversation.

Obviously, that's stupid and irritating. However it's not as stupid and irritating as the ad for french holidays that arrived in a magazine today. When you open it, it plays "je t'aime". And it's not even the immortal Abigail version.

A handbag!

The other day I bought a new handbag; a birthday present from my mum. She gave me the money as she is exceedingly generous but brutally unsentimental. (One year, at Christmas, she showed me proudly the piles of books that were our family's Christmas presents. Instead of a gift tag she'd put a post it note with our name on it. That was OK, but she wanted me to tell her it was a really good idea as well and I just couldn't manage that.)

Anyway, so I ripped all the stuffing out of this glamourous bag in the shop (olive leather, very square, can fit A4 documents + water bottle) and stuffed my old handbag in it. "There, " I thought. "It fits."