First class to Chiltern

It is Anzac Day (i cant even think of Anzac day without tearing up) and I am taking a four day weekend to visit my friend Caz in Chiltern in country Victoria. At the moment I am in a comfortable vline train in a first class compartment. Makes me feel superior saying first class. I have a seat tray table like an aero plane and the seat configuration is set out so that no one is invading my personal space. Pity I clicked the wrong button when I bought my ticket and I am in economy class on the way home.

It is always an adventure visiting Caz, she is one of the naughtiest people I know, truly, she just doesn't give a fuck and says and does what she wants. It is like being with a comedian. I am sure there are times when I could describe myself that way too, but I have to pull my head in at work, the corporate world doesn't like independent thinkers, Caz is an excellent barmaid/manager and does as she pleases, plus she can be a little scary so it is funny watching her behind the bar sorting out the punters. Like the time when some local young men made a mess and she threw a cloth at them saying 'I am not cleaning up your mess ya pigs' and they meekly said 'sorry Caz'


It is the first time I have caught the train there during the day, and I am happy. I love having almost four uninterrupted hours to daydream out the window and can't wait to see Caz's smiling face or famous sneer when I arrive.

LaFemme at Musicland

One of my Sharpie friends Denise regularly goes to a place in Fawkner called Musicland. Now just the name Musicland sounds magical, like Disneyland, or Neverland and Denise's photos taken at the different gigs, show a world of smiling middle aged rockers and music enthusiasts, and she gets this crazy (born again type) light in her eyes when she talks about her local venue.

 Wilbur Wilde and Denise

I hadn't visited Musicland, as loud music makes my ears yell, (even though I knew I was missing out), but organised to meet up with some of the extended Sharps & Co. gang to see La Femme.

Musicland is obviously someone's dream (I haven't met the owners yet). Someone has worked hard to have an amazing dream come true, to create a unique space for people to make music. It's for everyone, from young musicians, starting their careers with fire and hormones, to aging Rock'n'Rollers that have never lost the passion to conjure magic with their craft. And the fans, Baby Boomers in leather, denim, black t-shirts, reptile skinned pointy shoes and the women that can still rock a mini skirt with boots, or a figure hugging dress. Can't forget the fans and other devotees that support the venue and live music.  

For the regulars, Musicland seems to be a cross between Cheers, 'where everyone knows your name', and my favorite bar in the whole world, Bob's Country Bunker in The Blues Brothers. That particular scene when The Blues Brothers have just finished singing Stand By Your Man and the entire (angry Redneck) audience is united as one cuddling and emotional after being won over by a band they were throwing bottles at earlier.

Someone told me once that when you arrive at Disneyland, they must be pumping happy gas as you walk through the gates, as you immediately feel great on arriving. I am a bit suspicious of that. I don't like having to do 'Happy'. For example, just because it is my birthday, why do I HAVE to be happy? Why do I have to have a Merry Christmas. I hate Christmas.  I quite like being a cranky old hag. Well Musicland must have some of that happy gas too, because as this photo proves, I am enjoying myself, and I am even singing.

Me, Stef in his 1979 LaFemme T Shirt, and Mr Staggers

And look how happy my friends are in this pic.

And as well as the venue and the ambiance, this is the reason why I am happy. LaFemme on stage, and I feel 17 again.

Vale Stephen Prictor

I was in a good mood all week (which is unusual for me) as I was looking forward to seeing LaFemme last night. The night started off with a home cooked dinner by my mother in law for me and Sam Biondo
and Sam gave me a beautiful birthday present, one of the late Stephen Prictor's sketches.

Stephen Prictor

29 December 1964 - 26 December 2012
Aged 47 years

I met Stephen at the Skinsnsharps Exhibition in 2010, one of the sweetest, most gentle people I have ever met. He bought my book RAGE and then the next day I got a call from him. He had stayed awake all night reading my book and had to ring to tell me how much he enjoyed it. It was the first bit of feedback I  received and it felt nice. I knew the Sharpies would support the book as their own, as it is part of our history, but wasn't sure about readers outside of the Sharpie subculture.

Receiving the feedback from such a talented artist and musician, (and I have also seen him described as the 'St Kilda Sweetheart') was a buzz for me. I describe in this post how it felt being propelled out of fat lady suburbia into the funky world that I never knew existed.

This is one Stephen's sketches (not the birthday present one), it is of me and my old boyfriend Chap.

I will do a separate post for the LaFemme gig.

Crafty

So much for my smug posts about making covers for the couches. The Kid sent a couple of photos to me at work the other day. She wondered why Kombi, my little black poodle (affectionately known as Alby, LBB Little black bastard - and no that isn't racist) was covered in fluff and she went to the area at the end of the house that we call The Naughty Corner to see what the problem was. The Naughty Corner is an undercover outdoor area that The Kid uses to entertain her friends before she goes out clubbing, or it is used to segregate guests that don't like each other during parties.

This is what she found. Obviously there has been some kind of spontaneous explosion.