This is a picture of childhood home #2 - my last house as an only child and our family’s last house in Brisbane.
It used to be the homestead of a dairy farm before the suburb became developed in the early part of last century. We were the second family to own it, and Mum and Dad did extensive renovations. I particularly dig the mint-green paint job.
I drove past it today and saw that the block had been sub-divided, and a house now stood in what used to be my gigantic backyard. I remember Mum’s herb and flower gardens there, my trampoline and cubby house, and playing with our two dogs. I remember Easter egg hunts under the hedges, talking to the neighbours over the fence, the old timber shed, being sent to sit on the “naughty step” outside the laundry under the house.
I felt sad, so I ate some KFC which made me feel worse. Oh life.
In other news, posts will be a bit sparse here for the next few weeks. Uni has gone back and I have a lot of writing for $$ to do, including putting together issue two of I Am Very Busy and Important: The Zine. I’m stoked that people I don’t know in cities I don’t live in bought enough copies for issue one to sell out.
So goes my glamorous life.
The old flour mill at Albion is (or was, not much has happened there since the GFC) set to be developed into offices, apartments and a shopping village. This is what happens to the post-industrial city fringe, old abandoned buildings with smatterings of graffiti become containers for yuppies and empty-nesters.
Sometimes I marvel at the versatility of these old monuments, at what a good retrofit can achieve.
Sometimes I wish they were allowed to crumble into the ground, given the luxury of a slow but dignified death.
The commuters scurry in and out of the nearby train station, not knowing and not caring about any of it.
(pic via comicallyvintage)
I had a dream the other night that Who The Hell let me post a mixtape entitled Bands My Boyfriends Have Been In. Now, aside from being a tacky idea that would make me look like a massive groupie sluzz, it would be a travesty against good taste and the art of crafting a cohesive mixtape.
Essentially, it would be a compilation of nu-metal bands from central Queensland, with one lonely jazz track from my current boyfriend’s band. While none of the bands are offensive on their own, it’d be the combination of uncool niche genres that would really get up people’s noses.
I got thinking about the whole boys in bands thing, and came to the conclusion that my youth and dabblings in the music industry are responsible for all of my heartbreaks. While all these boys were/are great guys (some of them less great than others), I didn’t date any of them for their music, or for the “cool” factor of them being in bands. Seriously, why would you? Young, male rock musicans are terrible to date. Their egos are often the largest part of their anatomy and there are always hotter chicks out there willing to stroke them. Ahem.
At the ripe old age of 21, I’ve stopped banging my head against brick walls and have lucked into a wonderful relationship with a handsome, caring, funny computer programmer who has a jones for jazz and funk music. While he does play guitar well, he also has a fulltime job and a mortgage.
There’s nothing sexier than responsibility.
‘sup, Brisbane city sunset?
Adult Emporium in Albion is a landmark. Located opposite the train station in a suburb that is a glorified industrial estate, it boasts entry via laneway, a never-ending sale and stock from Off Ya Tree for all your classy bong and piercing needs. I love how its logo looks like something from a post-war era Marvel superhero comic. “Adult Emporium, rescuing ordinary citizens from the tyranny of a stodgy vanilla sex life.”
Last night, my friend Dan and I were talking about anti-social internet behaviour; namely trolling, flaming and straight-up bitching. Neither of us are angels when it comes to paying out our friends, but we were both astounded by the amount of people who say really dreadful things about other people, bands and organisations on what is a public forum. Sure, you can have your private accounts and locked down Facebooks, but if someone really wants to put you in your place, there is always caching and screenshots.
Dan likened the internet to a party, and I think he’s right. Just be sure that your venomous spray doesn’t happen as the party suddenly goes quiet.
I find history fascinating. Old books, clothes, houses, photos, instruments, you name it - anything with a few stories attached. Born in 1870, Alfred Elliott was a Brisbane public servant with a passion for photography, and photographs he took between 1890 and 1921 are on show as Chosen View: Photographs From The Elliott Collection at the Museum of Brisbane.
The format of the exhibition is pretty nifty. The photos have been reproduced from their glass negatives onto similarly-sized pieces of perspex and displayed on a lightbox. When you find a photo that interests you (there are great shots of the CBD and inner suburbs), scan the barcode attached to the perspex. The image and detailed caption will then be displayed on the projector screen for 45 seconds.
5 out of 5. Would see again.
There are many great things about dating a cool, handsome nerd who makes video games for a living. One of them is his nerdy friends and workmates.
One of his workmates and his fiancee have just built a castle in the middle of nowhere, so last night we trekked out to the castle-warming. It was actually quite tasteful inside, and the party guests were encouraged to keep themselves warm by setting the couple’s old furniture on fire outside. There was no moat and no torture room, but they did have cable internet and nice bathrooms. It would’ve been a tough decision to make, but I applaud them.
They’re getting married out there later on in the year - it’s a medieval costume wedding. Good on them!
If there was such a thing as ‘my kind of church’, this would be a choice hymn.
Today Albie completed a project he’s been working on for a while now - to shred the collection of foam mattresses downstairs into little chunks. He spread the wreckage out by rolling around in the drifts of foam until it covered the ground as evenly as possible. He knows he’s been naughty, but he’s still pretty pleased with himself.
