Mojo Hannah

Serious business

2011-08-22T23:44:00.003+09:30

Who, me? Oh nothing, just a meeting with the project stakeholder.

Balladry

2011-08-15T00:13:00.002+09:30

Here's a sneak look at two of the more girly, ballady songs from last month's recording sessions. Back in the saddle tomorrow night! Grand piano, I'm comin' for ya...

Morning in the life

2011-06-30T17:41:00.001+09:30

Wake up early with uncommonly clear head and well-behaved hair. Take long shower while pondering life, correlation between contentment, creativity. Get outfit right first go. Have time to curl lashes and do interesting things with blush and eyeshadow. Happily accept delicious coffee and loan of earphones from rarely-awake boyfriend. Leave house without needing coat or having to rush for bus. Take whimsical yet interesting photos of clouds. Receive text from Dad saying he found my lost earphones. Find seat on bus next to person with firm grasp of personal hygiene. Stride across river bridge in time to heart-warmingly nostalgic pop-rock of Spiderbait. Smile benevolently to all who pass.

Get to work 5 minutes early. Hear faint but insistent beeping through the heart-warmingly nostalgic pop-rock of Spiderbait. Realise alarm is on and must be switched off. Wonder why no one has already done so. Shrug, go to kitchen to get glass of water. Unlock 3 doors to staff room, wonder why no one has already done so. Shrug, head back to desk to start up computer. Wait til 9:15 to realise today is staff team-building day, as discussed in countless staff meetings previously and as written in (and circled) in (unread) diary. Realise have to be on the other side of town half an hour ago.

Cuss. Panic. Chastise self for being vague airhead dill-pickle etc. Imagine entire staff currently doing same. Lock up, wait at bus stop. Wait longer. Realise could have taken different bus that went past 10 minutes ago. Wait some more. Panic. See buses turning from bus stop further up street. Walk to bus stop further up street. Correct bus pulls away just before reaching it, drives past to original bus stop. Cuss harder. 45 minutes later, finally get on bus. Sit down, notice coffee stain on dress. Close eyes. Sigh.

The Tardis

2011-06-10T16:26:00.001+09:30

Domestic bliss, 6:15pm

2011-06-09T18:21:00.001+09:30

"Is that a pear you're chopping up for that stir-fry?!"

"Yes, why?"

"This is gonna be another banana and bok-choy fiasco isn't it? You're NOT putting pear in that!"

"What, why not? You've put pear in stir fries before!"

"When have I ever done that?"

"Well, I don't know. Apples. You've definitely put apples in a stir fry."

"Not even! I promise you I have never ever thought about putting apples in a stir fry."

"Well, salads then. You've put apples in a salad."

"THAT'S COMPLETELY DIFFERENT."

"It still sounds weird to me."

"GET RID OF THE PEAR."

So, this happened

2011-05-24T23:21:00.003+09:30

I'd previously thought all the basses in the house were too big and heavy for me to dig learning on, but yesterday this never-before-seen sleek red 80s number materialised out of nowhere (7 and counting; I swear they're breeding) and the next thing you know I'm grooving along to stupidly repetitive reggae jams and slow-burning soul numbers and it's the best thing ever.

Phun with Photobooth

2011-05-23T12:20:00.002+09:30

3 x eyes
2 x chins
1 x hairstyle

Thoughts on Womad

2011-05-10T14:12:00.002+09:30

(Wrote this in March, oops.)

- Hippies sure like twirling things (bless their hemp tie-dyed socks).

- Metal screamers sounding like children throwing tantrums compared to the Mongolian throat-singing guys.

- I’m missing something important about Angus and Julia Stone. Or perhaps they really are shithouse, and a vast sea of screeching punters are suffering mass delusion (it happens).

- The Necks. Sparse, ominous rumbles turned into loud, frenetic, noise-jazz turned into insistent, sinister groove, featuring mysterious phantom harmonics that I swore was someone singing. I’m not entirely unconvinced that this experience was responsible for the most fucked up dream I’ve ever had in my life last night (featuring meth addiction/a torture chamber/emotional trauma/GEE THANKS TONY BUCK).

- Sometimes you find yourself at a hippie world music festival eating a vegan gluten-free chickpea burger with 6 types of salad and you think dammit, what I actually feel like is a Hawaiian spud with extra bacon.

- To address the balance you go smoked pork sausages, chips with spicy bourbon sauce, and sugared donuts oozing dark chocolate for dessert. Vow to consume carrot peel and water for rest of week.

- Show me a stripy dress and I will buy the fuck out of that shit.

- Ethiopian funk the musical highlight; I’m mad for a sharp-dressed horn section.

Fan Ho fan

2011-05-10T14:08:00.002+09:30

Well, I have known of photographer Fan Ho for approximately 2 minutes and 41 seconds but it is abundantly clear is that I’m going to have to drop everything and dedicate my life to attempting to take photos that look like his.

(NB Wiki names him as Ho Fan. This fact presented without commentary.)

Let's hear it for the boys

2011-05-07T23:00:00.004+09:30

Have been overwhelmed by an avalanche of haunting male voices lately.

Skills, I has them

2011-05-04T19:16:00.001+09:30

Excerpts from a resume that crossed my desk this morning…

I have gained tremendous satisfaction from interfacing with people combined with networking and building relationships to ensure colleagues were completely satisfied.

Y U NO MAKE SENSE. Sounds vaguely like a discreet sex robot co-worker from the future.

Affable and flexible.

Well, that’s certainly how I like my discreet sex robot co-workers from the future.

Worked on dairy farm.

Relevant to a youth arts organisation how? Is he implying we’re a bunch of cows?

Extensive hiking experience. With maps and equipment.

Maps and equipment. Well, I’m sold…

Whore-kitty

2011-04-26T22:43:00.002+09:30

"Check out the cup I bought today. That kitty looks like she's gagging for it"

“The one top right looks embarrassed by whore-kitty’s behaviour. It’s given itself a face plant, ‘Oh jesus, you pea-brained slut…’”

Oh Facebook banter with filthy Welshmen, you complete me.

Song for Easter

2011-04-25T16:44:00.003+09:30

Expressions of Christianity. Sometimes really ugly; right now really beautiful.

Stuff and things

2011-04-24T00:59:00.011+09:30

So, the way I understand it, if the Aussie dollar is strong than the greenback, Modcloth.com are basically paying me to shop online?

Two bands

2011-04-24T00:28:00.001+09:30

- Not your ordinary soul-funk big band. 10 huge black guys in identical dark suits playing the tightest grooves with fills and turnarounds so compelling you barely notice it's all 12-bar blues. All this and then B.B. mother-effing King shuffles onstage with a twangy guitar and piercing voice, all the more rich and affecting for his 85 years. He insults his band and flirts with women dancing on the mezzanine and messes up the endings to fuck with the drummer. It's all a complete joy.

- Bob Dylan has previously only existed to me as flickery documentary footage, 2 songs half-known, that wheeze, and this photograph, but suddenly he's right there, all black-clad limbs and white hat, and it's moving me more than I thought it would. His band is loud and sort of loose and so is he, growling and spitting out lyrics I can't even make out, and it's really awesome (though I can tell Dad hates it). They're not as adept with the blues as B.B's; 12-bars plod along with a country twang that I thought should have placated the bogans in the crowd. Instead they scream their favourite titles at him when the lights go off between songs, and I hate them intensely for it, especially when he does play them an establishment-pleasing encore and the fuckers all clap on the 1 and the 3. They don't get it! But probably neither do I, I don't even like Dylan.

American in peril

2011-04-11T20:36:00.009+09:30

American Apparel clothes seem to fall into two distinct categories.

1. Wow. This is wicked beautiful and I want it on my body this instant.

2. Wow. This is batshit freaking insane; are you kidding me with the ass-less pantihose?

What I'm scared of is the day I can no longer tell the difference.

Things I feel I should enjoy but don't, particularly

2011-04-05T23:34:00.001+09:30

Sushi

Yoga

Bill Evans

Tahini

Wes Anderson films

Dark chocolate

Triple J

Blue vein cheese

Bon Iver

Steve Reich

Jack Russell terriers

Bitches Brew

LCD TVs

Bob Dylan

Nick Hornby

New year’s eve

House

Julia Gillard

Red wine

Tolstoy

Johnny Depp

Anime

Licorice

Easy Rider

Brahms

Sarah Silverman

Breakfast At Tiffany’s (film)

Incense

Pear cider

Bootsy Collins

Knitting

Bens Stiller, Lee, and Folds

Judd Apatow films

Lipstick

Jane Austen

Simon & Garfunkle

Songs on Cee-Lo Green’s album The Lady Killer that are not Fuck You

Care to add any?

Synchronicity and son clave

2011-03-03T19:28:00.001+10:30

Once upon a time when I was but another student wandering the hallowed halls of the Conservatorium with dreams in her heart and stars in her eyes etc, I'd sometimes come across a stand-alone whiteboard. On this whiteboard would be these hilariously absurd comics featuring memorable characters such as 2:3 son clave man, a superhero who would respond to calls of distress by clapping the 2:3 son clave rhythm (illustrated so):

I found this all quite hilarious, being the silly little geek that I am, and would used to stalk this mysterious whiteboard religiously. The guy behind it all was a jazz drummer who I knew of but never got to know.

Anyway, as I was walking to the bus stop this morning, 2:3 son clave man drifted into my head out of nowhere for the first time in 5 or so years and made me laugh so much I was glad no one else was around.

Cut to around lunchtime at work when I'm chatting to a guy who plays in a salsa band. "I'm more into Cuban music though," he says. "Oh yeah, like montuno and son clave patterns and that," I reply, for I am a smarty-trousers show off. He talks excitedly about montuno, 2:30 son clave, 3:2 son clave, rumba clave, and invites me to a gig tomorrow night. Sweet! I think. Today is certainly a good day for son clave.

Cut to around dinnertime, discussing plans for tonight. "We should go see this band at the Exeter," suggests Craig. "Jarred's drumming. You remember Jarred? He used to do 2:3 son clave man."

Keeping house

2011-02-21T12:43:00.002+10:30

How to best spend the night before a house inspection: 1) arrange books by colour, 2) give your fancy water filter a little personality.

People from last night

2011-02-06T21:25:00.006+10:30

A wild-eyed man pulling a trolley up Gouger St, storming and shouting at everything he passes. He grabs an empty beer bottle from a planter and charges towards me. I don't panic because a) I barely have time to and b) surely not, right? and sure enough, he says to me "Nah, I'm not going to hurt you, buddy" and changes direction. I am chuffed, more about the "buddy" part than the bit about not being glassed.

A girl, utterly singular because she is the only person in the room shorter than I am. Her gorgeous smile and sweet vibe eclipses her tiny frame and this gives me personal hope for wee brunettes everywhere, particularly me. I like her headband and tell her so. She brushes off the compliment with a "Bad hair day", and it is exactly what I would have said in the same situation.

Another girl. Balinese vibe, clothes that cut away from her slender figure to show a large, delicate tattoo of a tree (I think, something lush and organic anyway) on her shoulderblade. A friend of a friend of a friend, we don't talk but share dancefloor space and an ephemeral sense of genetic and cultural heritage (or maybe that's just me). On leaving, I tell her the tattoo is beautiful; she squeezes my hand and walks away.

I see someone I met in passing a few nights previously, but my shyness keeps me alone at the bar holding a beer I'm not sure entirely sure I want. 20 minutes later (with Alice by my side as backup) I say hello and am greeted by a big grin, a bear hug, and an enthusiastic rundown of my basic information checklist to the girl next to him. He dances continuously, with exuberance and without alcohol. Ahh, more people like that please. Less (fewer?) inhibited idiots like me.

A guy sitting across from me on the train. Orange polo shirt, blue checked shorts, chunky sandals. Preoccupied and frowny, he rubs his eyes and his hair, and on closer inspection looks like he's trying not to think about something so sad it will make him inconsolable. I have uncharitable thoughts connecting all this to what he's wearing, but decency wins in the end and I long to ask if he's OK. I'm not sure this is an entirely altruistic impulse; I just like interesting stories.

Mix masters

2011-01-31T13:27:00.005+10:30

I like recording. I like the challenge of being pushed musically and having to use a careful blend of nerves and relaxation to rise to the occasion and come up with something you want to listen to again. Going into the studio slightly under-prepared didn't do much for the relaxation, but the whole point of demo recordings is that you can use them to see what needs improving. Which is a lot. But that's okay, the magical process of adding, taking away, and polishing the groove is one of my favourite things to do.

Here is the inevitable behind-the-scenes video.

Foolish child

2011-01-24T23:29:00.003+10:30

Laura and Alice and I went away to play shows for a few weeks over New Years: down the limestone coast to Portland, then across Victoria's surf coast. Here's a few tour moments...

- Breaking down (sort of not really) and debuting a new song (and guitar) in a paddock.

- Fireside acoustic session: an old song for a future daughter.

Stalkee

2010-12-27T18:53:00.004+10:30

My contract at the castle on the hill is finished for the year, and while there will be a new one waiting for me in 2011, I'm perhaps not as excited as I would be in normal circumstances, thanks to this incident last month.

I was walking through the train station when a vaguely familiar-looking guy (late-20s, sparse beard, jittery, check pants, oily skin) appeared from nowhere.

VAGUELY FAMILIAR-LOOKING GUY [apologetic, stuttering]: Excuse me, look, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I recognise your face from somewhere and it's really bugging me that I can't remember... I'm so sorry to hassle you like this.

Slight warning bells go off. Dude, Adelaide's small, you see people you recognise all the time. If you're so worried about approaching me... don't. But whatever, it's always nice to be nice, so I stopped to talk.

We figured out that he'd come to the last concert by my uni students. There was a bit of chit chat; about the concert, about our respective jobs, a polite exchange of names, and a seriously nerdy attempt at flirtation (he promised me a deep discount if I ever dropped by his antiquarian bookshop).

It was all fine. Apart from seeming oddly enthusiastic, I figured he was ultimately harmless, especially as I hardly ever catch the train anymore. Not a problem.

UNTIL.

CUT TO NEXT MORNING AT WORK.

PHONE: *ring ring*

ME: Good Morning, [NAME OF WORK], Hannah speaking.

VOICE OF VAGUELY FAMILIAR-LOOKING GUY: Er. Hi. It's ______ ringing from ______ Antiquarian books.

ME [to self]: Motherf...

ME [aloud, through gritted teeth]: Hi. Yes?

Part of his confused premise was that a customer had ordered a book about our building and he was ringing to get more information. Such a book, to my knowledge, does not exist. He rattled off a few staff names that he could have easily gotten from the website to make himself sound more legit, then asked what the organisation did, and may he speak to whoever coordinated the volunteers, because he was quite interested in volunteering?

Guess what my role as listed on the work website is.

So I finally let on that yes, that's me, I'm Hannah, and then came the inevitable.

VAGUELY FAMILIAR-LOOKING GUY: .... Oh. Right. Um... I didn't by any chance... Did I meet you in the train station yesterday? Was that you?

ME [trying to hide the sarcasm]: What. Are. The. Chances. Amazing, huh?

Unfortunately, my automatic phone manner is all polished, congenial professionalism, so I had to be nice for as long as it took to "add his details to our list" (yeah, right) and then pretend another call was coming through, leaving me a little peeved and more than slightly shaken.

I mean, this guy stopped me in public, remembered where I mentioned I worked (STUPID ME), looked up our website, found my name and position on the staff list, concocted a half-baked series of lies to talk to me, and then actually followed through! Unless it was a genuine coincidence, but every instinct of mine screams STALKER! STALKER! RUN FOR THE HILLS!

Maybe he picked up on the annoyance in my voice, or maybe he found my panicked Facebook status update about being stalked by a stalky stalker, but I haven't heard from him since, and I hope it stays that way.

I should probably stop being nice to dweebs.

Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T23:58:00.005+10:30

Reflective peaceful floaty songs for sitting alone on a big bed in a candlelit room while your boyfriend is out gigging and your housemate is watching Scrubs and you're eating curry on toast and thinking about friends near and far and new and old, and how much more of an authentic presence in their lives (and not least your own) you want to be in the new year.

Belonging

2010-12-11T16:27:00.008+10:30

I've never wanted to live in a set of pictures so badly.

Penelope Durston's Melbourne Home on The Design Files.

Urban sketcher

2010-11-09T15:23:00.004+10:30

"I did this sketch on three consecutive mornings before heading to work." - Paul Heaston, Urban Sketchers.

Uhh, pretty inspiring. The most I achieve every morning before work is finding my keys in time to catch the bus. The rest of the website is a really captivating look at how artistic types see their surrounds.

Classy digs

2010-11-06T13:21:00.005+10:30

This is my new workplace. Needless to say, I'm pretty happy about it.

In which I laugh at the word 'balls'

2010-10-18T18:31:00.003+10:30

For your next trip to the zoo, it's a good idea to take a friend who can provide excellent comedy voices in a UK accent

October 15

2010-10-16T19:38:00.008+10:30

12:47am and I'm drifting off in the laptop glow amongst piles of clothes and books on my bed (debris from a failed attempt to clean my room earlier in the day). It's messy up there but the weight on my legs is nice and it's only me and I'm in the lavish mood of smug entitlement you get when you know you're presently only accountable to yourself. One more facebook scrabble move before sleep and there's a message in the chat box next to the board usually saved for smack-talk: "I'm sure this is the best place to say it: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

----

The ridiculous smug entitlement continues through the morning. I have a longer shower and use extra leave-in conditioner BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. I download 3 albums BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. My housemate has left a giant Haigh's chocolate frog for me and I eat it for breakfast BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. I cut my wrist on the edge of the gold foil, but my classy housemate wrapped the whole shebang in baking paper and band-aids, so I peel one off and stick it on the cut then and there. This sequence of events makes me giggle all morning and I think about karma and that 'no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should' quote (but not too hard).

----

It's cold and wet with blustery wind, and I'm dubious about hazy plans to meet a friend at a mall across town for band-project-related shopping, but I have been discovering excuses to be antisocial all week and it must stop. I will wait for a bus in the rain and I will enjoy it BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY. It starts hailing. I am smiling though, because only yesterday I was lamenting the sudden return of 35 degree sunshine, and it's becoming ever clear to me how lucky I am that the difference between having a nice time and a terrible one can be controlling a few electrical impulses in my brain.

----

The restorative delights of trying on dresses, talking about weddings, stationery, eyeshadow, 50s bathing suits. The nice realisation my friend didn't need me to help her shop for the project; she knew I was alone, she wanted to keep me company on my birthday. The nagging realisation I hesitate doing this for others thanks to a mixture of shyness, laziness and not wanting to interfere. Craig calls; he is in the Netherlands, I am in Cheap As Chips, and it's the first we've spoken in a week and a half. There's enough time lag over the line to give the impression of awkward pauses. He is tired enough to give the impression that touring Europe and playing to sold out crowds isn't all it's cracked up to be. Both are false impressions, I am sure, but they unsettle me slightly.

----

We're seated in an art deco cinema amidst the dull roar of 750 women who like seeing Julia Roberts movies. The lights dim and Julia Roberts and her teeth are sad in New York, hungry in Italy, pensive in India, and contented in Bali, whilst we are asked to care. All around me there are sniffles at the wedding dance and nervous laughter when a father kisses his son goodbye on the lips, and all I'm thinking is PORN PORN PORN THIS IS A SHALLOW GRATUITOUS PORN FLICK DRESSED UP AS ONE ABOUT LOVE AND SPIRITUALITY. PORRNNNN. Laura asks for my thoughts, and I know how much the book means to her, so I say it was... sweet, how about you? She didn't like it.

----

I come home to 40 or so facebook messages and I'm happy happy happy. Yes, it's easier to tap away a few simple words and click a picture of a thumbs up than it is to give someone a call or send a card. But you are still thinking of someone and letting them know of it, and that small joy of human connection can't be dismissed.

With the road as my only friend

2010-09-30T13:45:00.003+09:30

Look! A film clip I made with Laura for her song 'By My Side'. It's a ballad about being on the road, and surprisingly it's still my favourite song off the album, despite me now associating it with getting frustrated at iMovie.

We filmed on our girls weekend away for a gig in the Barossa, ducking into pretty country lanes and antique shops and whatever caught our eye, and then a week later on a magically sunny late-winter afternoon by the beach (with supplementary singing shots in my bedroom when the light was right). I loved improvising like that. The editing process was enjoyable too. It slowly comes together, you show other people who have a fresh take, you have a few magical AHA! moments, you show more people, you refine refine refine, and then release it from your computer and feel overwhelmed and relieved when others say they like it too.

Photo journal

2010-09-20T17:16:00.007+09:30

After the last entry I thought it might be cool to have a non-private space where I could do more photo-heavy posts that all my friends can access, seeing as I'm starting to get a teeny amount of work from posting photos up on Facebook. My plan was for a halfway point between Flickr (not great for story-telling), Facebook (photos look shithouse), my portfolio (more for design work), and this blog (I want to keep this semi-private and use it more for writing).

So, meet my new photo journal. Have a look before I decide it's tomfoolery to start another online presence to nurture (because I'll end up posting the exact same content 5 times in 5 different places) and take it down.

On the sixth day

2010-09-19T13:42:00.003+09:30

I tagged along with Craig to his early morning rehearsal in an inner-city cottage slash recording studio which had 10 keyboards, a baby grand and a coffee machine and thus was pretty much my ideal place of residence.

Jamie picked me up down the street and drove me down to Seacliff to take photos of models wearing his band's merch shirts. Lessons were learnt: overcast days really take the photographic cake, I need to get better at making people feel comfortable in front of the camera, knock-knock jokes help.

I was delivered back in the city with $100 in my back pocket and the whole of the central markets to spend it in. Chinatown was looking brilliant with the cherry blossoms out so I loitered in the sunshine for a bit taking photos.

Wandering round the stalls and waiting for my lunch-mates to join me, I took photos that made it look like people were wearing banana-hats like some caribbean cruise performer.

Lasagne was consumed and dinner were ingredients purchased and then it was hometime, where the dining-room sunlight was hitting the dusty upright just so.

Then, a lazy laptop afternoon. I had my first tangelo and it was a revelation: way sweet, way juicy, easy to peel and eat by hand. Oranges are dead to me!

Korma for tea and off to my parents for homemade sorbet and a cuppa and company with the cat. He is the subject of around 60% of the conversation. He wouldn't have it any other way.

On the radio

2010-09-17T12:03:00.003+09:30

Here's a snippet of the band's first live-on-breakfast-radio performance from yesterday morning! NB not much of actual live performance to see, but there's an interview with Laura and my housie Justin (me and my fear of microphones scampered away when it was time for the interview, you can catch a glimpse of me in the background chatting to the cute photographer), and they also play one of our new songs in the background and a bit at the end. Here's a recording of two ballads we played, also. Worth getting up at 6am for? Definitely.

Monty: a retrospective

2010-08-29T23:05:00.001+09:30

Whiskers and paws

2010-08-29T15:30:00.007+09:30

Get a load of these perfect late 60s film posters! I picked out a series of mad cat ones (obviously, do you not know me at all?!), but there's all kinds of Eastern European vintage print loveliness to look at (and purchase!) at Terry Posters.

One day I will line my sunny dining room wall with these and my life will be complete.

Mindspill

2010-08-26T02:49:00.010+09:30

Because if you don't say it via Facebook status update then it's just not worth saying.

Moving pictures

2010-08-26T00:54:00.003+09:30

Sorry for the youtube onslaught in lieu of actual content, but how pretty is this: some of the earliest colour motion picture film ever shot. It's so intriguing to see the fancy ladies from black and white photos come to life. With the music it almost seems like an ad for the new season of some hipster fashion label...

An earful

2010-08-25T13:49:00.004+09:30

One purpose of having this blog is to use it as a place where earworms hopefully shrivel up and die. Here are my two latest, which have the happy coincidence of both being very sweet sounding songs with appallingly bad language. My favourite genre!

First up, the singer from Gnarls Barkly with the happiest sounding break-up song in the world.

Secondly, Dan Kelly's wistful ode to depressing election nights (topical!)

Postcard from Melbourne

2010-08-17T21:07:00.004+09:30

Ah, Melbourne.

5 cups of Darjeeling tea and a salted caramel macaroon in the handsome National Gallery. Stately facades and street art everywhere you look, grey and grit everywhere else. Blasts of icy wind round every corner. A plate drowning in vegetable curry and turmeric rice, with a lassi and custard pudding and fragrant wreath of flowers on the side (Krishna bless the Hare Krishnas!). Letting a handsomely dishevelled Tim Rogers duck into the bathroom before me in a St Kilda beer garden. Raspberry tea in a cosy room in a stately hotel, pear cider in a nice pub, Carlton Draught in a dank one. Garage pop, bush ballads, delicate songs about parking inspectors. Finding inspiration in early Tim Burton work, soaring piano lines, street scaffolding, vintage clothing racks.

Ahhh. Melbourne.

Postcard from Tassie

2010-08-09T13:14:00.002+09:30

Due to the lameness of Tiger Air (*spit spit*) I did not get to go to Tasmania, which is totally lame because from this photo at least, it looks like the very picture of Nirvana.

Postcard from the hills

2010-08-02T16:59:00.003+09:30

I like having friends from afar visit our neck of the woods (especially when they are as cute, clever, funny, and huggable as Durdlin & co). Little ol' Adelaide is especially appealing when you're going around pointing out the nice bits.

We went for an enjoyably wintry drive round Mt Lofty, and remembered that what the area lacks in actual loftiness, it makes up for with misty rolling fields of green, dense gumtree forests, and handsome stone country cottages. The Botanic Gardens were nice even without any flowers out, and the ~~ye olde germanic tourist trap~~ town of Hahndorf is good for lollies at the very least.

I remember being a bit down in the dumps at the time as we'd just had news a friend had been in a serious car accident, and maybe wasn't my usual enthusiastic photo-taking self, but I finally revisited them all last night and could almost smell the cold winter air sweet with rain and eucalyptus.

Caro Emerald

2010-07-28T14:42:00.005+09:30

Since recently doing more music-related design work, I've been more aware of band "looks"; clothes, posters, merchandise, the whole bit. The styling around Dutch singer Caro Emerald really is appealing to the same part of me that can't get enough of 50s Penguin and Blue Note covers. OK, maybe this clip is verging on TOO cute and slick (with the frock, the tunes, the shimmying; every cliché in the retro handbook) but nevertheless is seven shades of adorable, and my latest ear-worm.

Compare and contrast

2010-07-23T17:18:00.001+09:30

New York, New York

Newport, Wales

Stuck

2010-07-13T13:03:00.004+09:30

Two friends are flying in from Brisbane tonight, and I really hope they have a nicer time of it than I did the last time I did same.

We tried those self-check-in devices at the airport but couldn't manage to get seats together. Totally fine. I chose a middle seat out of three, Craig was across the aisle a few rows down.

When I boarded the plane I realised with a sinking feeling that fate had conspired to put me in between two of the largest people I had ever seen. I'm not talking overweight, I'm talking ENORMOUS. As in, MOUNTAINOUS. As in, probably not even Valerie could help them (NB I don't mean to be rude and unkind here, I just aim to describe how big they were). They were talking to each other as I approached, so I brightly asked if they were together (they were), and did they want to sit next to each other? They avoided my eyes and made general noises of non-committal, so I slipped into the seat between them as people were waiting behind me. I realise now that if they'd taken seats next to each other, whoever was next to the window seriously would not have been able to fit. Smooth, Hannah. Very tactful.

Anyway, so there's me wedged tight in between these two people who are intruding on my personal space even when I've folded myself into my most compact configuration (I hate it when strangers [who are not Matt Damon or Matthew MacFadyen] touch me). I'm desperately trying to see the positives, eg at least I'm quite a small person; imagine if someone of normal size got the seat instead of me, and at least it's only Brisbane to Adelaide; imagine flying to London like this, when the woman (sitting next to the window) starts shaking as we gather speed for lift-off. She's a nervous flier. Of course. I grit my teeth and read more intently as she complains to her husband. "Babe, I can't take this", she says to him (or rather, to me). "Don't worry, babe", he replies to her (or rather, to me). Repeat for half an hour after take-off and half an hour before landing.

It was a long flight, is my point. I think I've still got the tension knots in my shoulders.

Jam jam jam

2010-07-11T04:15:00.005+09:30

I like hosting band nights at our house. I cook pasta or soup or risotto for whoever's hungry. We make plans, we drink tea, we play music. Laura brings along new songs almost every time, and it's a delicate/frustrating/satisfying process sculpting it into something greater than the sum of its parts. Egos must be reined in or unleashed as good taste sees fit. Esoteric requests are made ("make it sound like a rainbow", "more Tori Amos", "reggae but not cliché reggae") and interpreted through 5 different filters. When 10:30 comes and we're all substituting dirty lyrics for the real ones it's time to call it a night, and the best thing about band prac at ours is that I only have to travel the length of the corridor to go to bed.

The laptop was set up during last week's rehearsal to record a few of the newer songs; I thought I'd share the (grainy, distorted) results...

8)

2010-07-07T13:30:00.008+09:30

That there is the happy smile of someone who:

- found ridiculous handmade vintage sunnies at Salvos for loose change

- feels bright winter sun on the back of her neck

- found out on QI last night that horizontal stripes - her favourite - actually make you look taller

- has a pot of tomato, rosemary and chickpea soup currently on the simmer

- has a new Sia ballad to listen to obsessively

- has a plane ticket to Tasmania with her name on it

Painted ladies

2010-06-29T01:32:00.002+09:30

Came across this video on the Saatchi online gallery; classic female faces all morphing into one another. It's eerily mesmerising. There's real personality and humanity to be seen in the movements, and an endless stream of totally new faces created during the morphing process.

Julz 4 eva

2010-06-25T13:53:00.006+09:30

Yesterday I woke up to discover our country is being run by a Welsh-born, Adelaide-raised, un-married*, Tilda Swinton lookalike.

Blah blah policies, convictions, upcoming election, blah: for now I'm all HEY HEY YOU GUYS OUR NEW PM IS TOTALLY KICKASS. Also: now gingers are finally getting their comeuppance, will they start mercilessly taunting us normal folk?

* I only mention this because she's been criticised in the past for not being married or having kids. Because women obviously aren't whole beings without these things to keep them busy...

Battle of wills

2010-06-22T23:56:00.000+09:30

Just look at his belligerent little face as I'm desperately trying to force him into loving me (meanwhile still bleeding from the bite wound on my arm). He's a character, but next time I'm getting a girl cat.

Mountains and a song

2010-06-21T12:54:00.011+09:30

Mountains are endlessly affecting and mysterious to a flat-plains girl like me. We went for a drive around our local highest peak on the weekend (ironically named Mt Lofty at 700m tall), and while it was certainly misty, green and pretty, I'm still yearning for the cold, blue, rugged type of real mountain.

Like the ones we saw in New Zealand 3 years ago...

Like the ones that inspired these awesome collage artworks seen on Poppytalk recently...

And nothing like the awesome Japanese funk band we saw on Friday night but they've got the word 'Mountain' in their band name so I'm posting this regardless...

Oh Otis

2010-06-17T13:50:00.002+09:30

There's nothing I don't love about this clip. The solemn horn intro, a voice of pure emotion, soft interjections on rhodes and sax, the unexpectedly driving drum-beat, the sharp guitar vamping, sixties suits and tight white pants, a cute bassplayer, and most of all, the way the whole song explodes at the 2-minute mark.

Long weekend highlights

2010-06-14T12:40:00.006+09:30

Light, spiced, warming winter comfort food: turkey meatballs in tomato sauce. Definitely adding this one to the meatball recipe collection.

An easy, exploratory, 7-hour conversation with a new friend or two, broken up by 1 movie, 1 band, 2 custard buns, 3 pubs, and 8 pints of pale.

Exit Through The Gift Shop. Partly an exploration of street-art culture, mostly an exploration of a crazily obsessive Frenchman who was dedicated to recording and ultimately exploiting the whole scene. Inspirational, fascinating, hilarious, and narrated by Rhys Ifans, isn't it? Crackin'.

A lone mall busker with a golden hollow-body guitar and a voice to match who actually made me cry*.

Kitten-sitting Monty at my parents' house, ie minding my own business around the house while I get pounced and farted on for attention, so really just like spending the weekend home with the boys.

*I was a wee bit PMSy at the time, as evidenced by crying at Cool Runnings earlier in the day. Cool. Runnings. Hormones, you suck.

Impressions

2010-06-11T14:53:00.003+09:30

"You don't come across as a short person."

"I thought you were a Christian."*

These are two observations people have made about me recently, and I've been puzzling over them for a while. You're either short or tall, end of story, n'est ce pas? Also, what distinctive qualities do Christians possess? And what have I been doing that matches those qualities?

*I have been baptised as Mum has strong Christian beliefs, but my own view on religion is of the wishy-washy "there may or may not be higher powers out there, but I'm certainly not one to know for sure" variety that Richard Dawkins despises.

New old things

2010-06-11T14:11:00.012+09:30

I like our new house. It's a short walk to bus stops, a Woolworths, and a gigantic Salvation Army store, which has been perfect for getting rid of leftover detritus from moving house. It's also been great for, er, replacing it with new stuff.

Such as.

A heavy ceramic polar bear

A DH Lawrence collecion. Saucy!

A cool graphic 'Nylon' tee and grey stripe shorts

An Art Deco-ish wardrobe ($15!)

A black button-up shirt and a tweedy vest (see my vest!)

A hardback by Paul Theroux

(who looks like a young John Winston Howard)

Black leather boots

Scoooore.

At this stage I've donated more than I've bought, and I really hope to keep it that way...

Bye house

2010-06-03T00:16:00.014+09:30

We inspected a house on Saturday, applied Monday, were accepted on Tuesday, and signed the lease on Wednesday. We defrost the fridge on Friday, and move in this Saturday. It all happened so quickly, finally, after weeks of looking. We've done hardly any packing either, so with all our stuff around us it's surreal to think we've only 2 more days left in our home for the last 2 years.

Because I'm a sentimental fool, I took a heap of photos of things I'll miss from this awesome little house, like the cracks in the front footpath;

the stained glass window in the (pink) front door;

the cheery geraniums on the nature strip;

the funky lightshade in the music room;

the textured red wall;

morning sunlight on the window blind;

the crazy-awesome passionfruit flowers sitting outside the kitchen window;

and the vine with orange flowers tangled over a red brick wall in the back garden.

I've a right to be sentimental I think. It was the first house I lived in after moving out of my parents' house, and it was perfect. Cheap, cute, close to shops and trains, and walking distance to Mum if I ran out of food. The downside to all this being that someone else owns it, and we have to give it back.

Dammit.

Frank and squiffy

2010-06-01T00:26:00.006+09:30

Let me tell you about a friend of mine.

He has a British accent (my no. 1 ideal trait in a friend).

He cooks the best roast dinners (my no. 2 ideal trait in a friend).

He has been described as a Brad Pitt look-alike (not that important in my list of ideal traits in a friend but it helps).

If you have milk in Earl Grey tea it makes him uncomfortable.

He fancies Keeley Hawes because he reckons she'd "go like the clappers".

I reckon he's right

(Interesting fact: I fancy Keeley's husband Matthew MacFadyen, am unsure if he'd go like the clappers).

Probably

He is the funniest person I know and I've been asking him to write a blog for ages.

He is always frank and sometimes squiffy.

He has just started a blog called Frank and Squiffy.

Facebook: ur doing it wrong

2010-05-31T15:07:00.002+09:30

Hippy food

2010-05-27T14:30:00.008+09:30

Guilt at not being able to go fully vegetarian has prompted the Mojo Hannah household into making as many responsible food-purchasing decisions as possible, and we have signed up to a program delivering a box of locally-grown, in-season, organic fruit and veg to our area every week (poofy organic Farmer's markets being scarce on the ground in our drinkin'/punchin'/rootin' neck of the woods).

One month in and reports are favourable. Everything is full of flavour -- the apples taste extremely appley, the onions are strong enough for rivers of mascara to run down my face if I even think about chopping one. The variety is brilliant; oranges, lemons, spinach, and potatoes sit alongside pomegranates, pears, beetroot and sweetcorn. I've made veggie dishes totally new to me (borscht, anyone?), and I'm now always thinking of how to incorporate more veg into meals.

Of course, the biggest plus is turning into one of those wankers who walks the aisles of Coles turning up their nose at American grapes and Argentinian garlic. "Tsk, think of the food miles" we hiss. "I'm so glad I only cook with local stuff" I say, only half taking the piss and with half an eye on New Zealand chocolate and Italian mozzarella.

Typical CSA box, picture courtesy FoodConnect

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Recently I was told about a job at an organic café in town, which would have been perfect apart from the fact that you had to be vegetarian to work there, preferably vegan. I didn't know how to react to this. It's a lovely cafe in a perfect location, but to take the job I'd have to lie and say I don't eat meat.

Now, I know that a vegetarian/vegan diet is the most ideal, healthy, humane, and environmentally-friendly way to eat, and one day I might achieve an awesome vegan diet, but I'm not quite there yet. Why does this make me unsuitable to work there? Do they think I'm going to sneak handfuls of beef mince into the vegan lasagne? I'm guessing it might be something to do with me possessing bad vibes from all the poor piggies and such I've been ingesting, but is can you really refuse to hire someone for a fairly menial job on ideological grounds? Where else would that be okay? Can't we all just get along? etc.

Anyway, whatever. I didn't apply for the fascist vegan job, partly because lying isn't cool, and partly because (to nowhere near quote Groucho Marx) I'd never want to work somewhere that doesn't want me as an employee in the first place.

Another fascist vegetarian

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some nice Indian-ish non-meaty recipes I've tried lately:

- Chana Masala
- Spiced veggie fritters
- Carrot salad (add sesame seeds, cumin, and a tiny pinch of cinnamon)

Sia megamix

2010-05-19T13:28:00.007+09:30

I've been crazy about my homegirl Sia lately. Her mellow albums are really suited to my mood round the house these days, and streaming her latest upbeat singles has become really addictive too. I'm counting down the days 'til the new album's released, and I never do that. Here are some reasons she's been taking up my attention:

1. Her voice is distinctive, powerful, husky, fragile, beautiful, and most sensational live.

2. Her haircut is so adorable it makes me miss having a bob.

3. She can effortlessly crank out an emotive and relatable power ballad or six.

4. She can effortlessly crank out a disco-pop tune catchier than the plague.

5. She's a total goober.

PS Don't watch this last one if you don't want to start constantly singing the refrain "I wanna pee on you / I wanna pee on you / Yeah I wanna pee on you / I wanna pee on you". So wrong but oh so catchy.

Misread

2010-05-17T17:09:00.003+09:30

Proof that the mad dash of job-hunting and house-hunting* is doing my head in, here are some passages I misread this evening.

From the Apple website: 'Elephant (Elegant) Technology for a Napa Valley Vineyard'

From a recipe blog: 'A quirky tradition is that anyone with Welsh connections stuffs a leek into their butthole (buttonhole)'

The full tragedy is that I spent a good while frowning at the screen each time going 'So... where do they get the elephants in California? The Welsh do WHAT now?!'

*Oh, did I not say? I'm jobless and homeless these days. Nothing is forever, swings and roundabouts, so it goes, the cycle of life, etc.

Lorne band video

2010-05-13T16:37:00.006+09:30

Here's a little clip from our band's last interstate adventure, featuring low-lit gig footage, friendly cockatoos, a mild case of hotel-room trashing, and a very terrible joke. Sorry about the ad; I think YouTube added it because I'm using a song belonging to Universal as background music (these poor, cash-strapped international record companies need all the pennies they can get, folks).

Snapshots from Hongers

2010-05-10T18:26:00.004+09:30

My parents just got back from a week's trip to Hong Kong, where Dad presented a paper on his linguistic area of interest and Mum rode round on buses taking cool photos. Here are the best (tweaked in Photoshop because I can't leave well enough alone).

From their account it is a welcoming and hilly concrete jungle of a city, more comfortable in it's own skin than Singapore, and more user-friendly than Jakarta (my only two points of reference). Those red double-decker trams look great in any case.

Cat lady

2010-05-09T19:02:00.007+09:30

New cat stuff, yeah I'm a dork.

Brooch from Bauhaus

Figurine box from Firefly

T-shirt from Gilles St Markets

Maniacal kitten from the fiery depths of Hades

Ode to the old

2010-05-07T17:03:00.008+09:30

I wouldn't want to live in any era apart from now (a fan as I am of broadband, equal rights, nutri-grain and down-tempo electronica), but they sure did things stylishly in the first three-quarters of last century, right? I love wading through vintage imagery, looking at light, colours and shapes familiar yet foreign to young, modern eyes. This site, If Charlie Parker Was A Gunslinger, There'd Be A Whole Lot Of Dead Copycats, posts the best of pop-culture imagery from yesteryear, and lots of it...

PS Sch-wing.

What a croc

2010-04-28T17:47:00.008+09:30

I can't believe I'd ever say this, but I'm seriously thinking about getting Crocs. I know, I know, but picture this...

Not bad, hey? While their old ballet flats still looked pretty Croc-like, these ones with the bright red (or navy!) and the suede finish I think I can get down with (at least until I find some great Oxfords). Although, do I want to support a company that also comes out with stuff like this?

Dilemma.

(bag from Etsy, top from French Connection, trousers from Modcloth).

Waiter waiter there's a symphony in my spinach

2010-04-26T23:30:00.004+09:30

Dear Coles,

LAME. But thanks for the opportunity to make puns on Facebook.*

Yours sincerely,

Hannah

*Paul: Spinach symphony? What the hell? Are the bits that taste like crap the brass section?

Hannah: Haha yeah! Or maybe that's their way of saying the rocket's a bit... stringy??!
John: not enough cellory

Etc. Have at it in the comments, if you like.

Free association

2010-04-25T13:31:00.005+09:30

Hannah sits in the beer garden, momentarily left alone to muse into a glass of riesling. Youth at next table with beer, cigarette and oversized suit stops his conversation and addresses her.

"Are you a stewardess?"

"... No. Why?"

"Because you're wearing a little red belt."

"Um, OK. How did you get to stewardess?"

"That's what they wear? On Virgin Blue?"

"Oh, yeah. So they do."

"You should apply to be one."

"Nah, I'm probably too short to reach the overhead luggage things."

"Haha. You should try anyway because you've already got the belt."

Lorne road trip

2010-04-24T21:14:00.010+09:30

A few snaps from a weekend away to beautiful Lorne and back. 4 gigs, 4 days, 1700 kilometres under the tyres.

Not caught on camera: the charry smell of burn-off in a grey green valley, hitting pretty harmonies under the verandah of a cafe with inner city cool in idyllic rural surrounds, good food that's bad (an unexpected free platter of party pies and spring rolls at a country pub), good food that's good (amazing beetroot salad with spiced yoghurt and toasted almonds), the way a proper imperial pint of beer hits the spot after a day on the road (Caaaaarlton Draught, who knew it was good?!), crimson leaves in crisp country air, the sound of horse hooves over dewy grass on an unexpectedly balmy morning.

Seven songs

2010-04-14T17:06:00.004+09:30

... that feel just right for a golden April afternoon.

Music Playlist at MixPod.com

Carrington street art

2010-04-14T14:26:00.005+09:30

There's this big mural of square wooden artworks hanging up next to my favourite op shop in town (the one on Carrington St that's always playing Buddy Holly or Motown); I assume it's done by the homeless people the shop supports. I like visiting the mural as much as I like visiting the shop, it's so unexpected and colourful. Much like this guy across the road.

Maira Kalman, you are a wonder

2010-04-12T23:36:00.004+09:30

I love this painting, found on page 25 of your enchanting book that I bought tonight. I also love your paintings in 'The Elements Of Style' and the paintings in your blog. You are hip to the max. May I be like you a little bit please?

Sonar

2010-04-03T19:22:00.005+10:30

I'm fascinated by visual representations of music, of how people see sounds. Like that SBS ad with the vibrant colours and patterns to represent sounds of an African kids choir, or this animation of Coltrane's 'Giant Steps'. Along the same vein is this mesmerising little video, which is like 1 part Steve Reich, 1 part Pong, and 2 parts nothing I've seen before.

Sonar from Renaud Hallée on Vimeo.

*Actually, whenever different senses combine is really interesting to me; I love reading about synaesthes (people who can taste words, or hear colours, etc).

So long summer

2010-04-03T13:04:00.007+10:30

It's been a good one, and these golden early autumn days are lovely too, but bring on the change of season now, please, now.

Better together

2010-03-25T00:58:00.012+10:30

3/4 sleeve cardigans + knee-socks.

(from Some Girls Wander)

Polaroid photos + scarves.

(via Oh Joy)

Tilt-shift photography + stop-motion.

(via Curated By Em)

Stripes + pleats + glitter.

(via Little Lost Love)

Cats + captions.

(from I Can Has Cheezburger)

Melbourne tour diary

2010-03-23T23:16:00.007+10:30

Our band's first Melbourne tour was 7 months ago now, so I decided it was high time I pulled some footage and photos I took along the way into another silly little video diary. I've done two of these before (Mt Gambier and Broken Hill) and am not convinced they're of any interest to anyone but ourselves, filled as they are with inane in-jokes and trees going past the car window. I really enjoy making them though, so will be bringing the trusty Canon on our Great Ocean Road jaunt in the near future to "refine" my "craft", and treat our loyal fanbase* to an intimate behind-the-scenes glimpse of our punishing** folk'n'roll touring schedule.

*ie creepy stalker fan
**ie lackadaisical

Swoon for Simone

2010-03-22T13:23:00.006+10:30

"Her sultry persuasion can caress or carve out a heart with paralyzing euphoria and inflict stoic men with boyish war. A silky smooth trumpet coats one’s will, the gentle bass thump removes your armor, as marxophone, guitar and piano fastens temptation. Dark, moody, passionate desire, eerie and erotic - provocative songs that linger like an eternal flame, reducing your soul to brimstone ash."

So says Aurgasm writer Kyle in a fine example of colourful indie music journalism, and who am I to disagree with any of those adjectives when it comes to the music of Nicole Simone? Her songs have everything I love about Tom Waits' intimate cabaret-style dirges (simple chords, mournful trumpets, etc) but with his gruffness replaced with quiet, girly melancholy. And pure hotness; she is a babe and a half. Where do I sign up to 'turn' for this one?

Below is the scorcher of a film-clip for 'Melt', which is off her self-titled EP. Isn't it nice to see sensual imagery being used to complement the class and talent behind the music, rather than being a cover-up for it's deficiencies (ahem, Black Eyed Peas)?

Womadelaide crowd

2010-03-19T17:27:00.010+10:30

I only managed to make one day of Womadelaide this year, but still managed to see vodka-soaked Russian folk, languid Byron reggae, sophisticated Scandinavian jazz, hip Aussie funk, and crazy brass-band hip hop from Chicago, amongst other things. After too much time around industry-type bands all about the black jeans and Ray-bans (more thoughts on this to come), you can always count on Womad for inspiring, complex music that never takes itself entirely seriously.

People-watching is another big attraction, and having a paparazzi zoom lens meant I could take a few sneaky shots of eye-catching Womad-goers before my camera battery ran out trying to take photos of Ravi Shankar across a sea of middle-aged hippies on picnic blankets.

Of course, the musicians themselves weren't bad subjects either...

Gfail

2010-03-15T19:14:00.004+10:30

John Howard? Home ownership? Gmail, how could you possibly get me so wrong?

Chatroulolz

2010-03-15T14:18:00.006+10:30

Even though I find Chatroulette an intriguing concept, the thought of actually logging on (solo and sober, anyway) scares the pants off me. Enter Chatroulolz, a collection of funny and disturbing Chatroulette moments to enjoy purely vicariously...

PS DANGER DANGER! These are the nice ones. People with webcams being people with webcams, there's a fair amount of disturbing T&A on the website...

Capucine tells a story

2010-03-14T14:37:00.003+10:30

Check this precious little Amelie-in-the-making. Such dramatics! And they did not even take the train!

Seven more secrets

2010-03-10T09:22:00.009+10:30

Nice blogger Keenie Beanie has awarded me an thing which asks me to list 7 things people don't know about me. I've done this a few times so have been wracking my brain this week trying to think up some of my last remaining secrets...

1. I dislike the font Verdana used in any other context than plain online text. It looks shoddy, lazy, and cheap, and it's popping up EVERYWHERE (shopfronts, IKEA catalogues, election posters... even on ABC promos) so I am regularly disgusted.

2. My ears are very sensitive to tuning, probably from suffering through hours of orchestra sectionals at uni. Anything overtly out of tune gives me a physical reaction -- the first few bars of 'Cello Song' by Nick Drake make me wince and squirm every time.

3. Today I've been putting together an online portfolio with the hope of getting more design, photography and film projects. I have been working on it while ignoring my current design, photography and film projects.

4. Usually I don't mind it, but today I am THIS close to deleting my Facebook account. Not for any specific reason other than it's a another addictive way to distract myself with a barrage of useless information (TV, DVDs, mags and the internet are bad enough as it is).

5. I have 8 black and white striped tops, bought throughout last year when I was obsessed with Breton stripes. All are currently ignored as Breton stripes are absolutely everywhere now so it's not as special.

6. I love out-takes and making-of docos. I'm the nerd who watches all the DVD extras, because I like a) watching how creative people work, and b) what movie stars are like when they're not acting.

7. I am thinking of making meatballs and tomato sauce for tea and carrot and pineapple cake for dessert.

There, I am now a completely open book. Thanks, KB. I won't ask anyone else to do it as I'm quite shy about telling people what to write about (even though I like it when people ask me), so instead will link to a few new blogs I've found and love.

A Clock Without Hands
For Me, For You
Regretsy
Murmuré

Cropped

2010-03-06T00:29:00.004+10:30

Dude, where's my hair?! I went to the hairdressers to fix my unfortunate mullet situation and came out with a sort of Carey Mulligan-meets-Rihanna pixie cut. There is nowhere to hide, but I think I like it (even if my housemate's first reaction was "Oh man, that's really... Wow. You look like your brother").

Shopped out

2010-03-03T01:54:00.005+10:30

Following on from learning how to do the "1978 effect" the other day, I've been using my free time to sink deeper into the world of Photoshop.

There's a wealth of free online tutorials and resources out there, and I've spent the best part of the day immersing myself in brushes, layer masks, actions, and curves (not as exciting as it sounds).

It's been exciting to begin to learn how to nudge mediocre photos in a new direction, especially the washed out, dreamy style seen in so many style and photography blogs.

Reliance on special effects does get annoying though, I'm not going to go all Michael 'Turd Polisher' Bay on y'all. Just a subtle little somn somn here and there to help lift the banal...

Put a shirt on

2010-03-02T18:27:00.008+10:30

Fact 1: Two of the nicest Threadless designs in a while were released today.

Fact 2: The exchange rate is unusually excellent.

Fact 3: It's a cat with a moustache and a top hat riding a bike with a horn!

Fact 4: On lilac!

Fact 5: I have at least 6 Threadless tshirts that I never wear and keep trying to flog at the Gilles St markets.

Fact 6: I am conflicted.

Fact 7: CAT WITH A MOUSTACHE.

Brisbanity

2010-03-02T13:15:00.017+10:30

I flew up to Brisbane last weekend, partly to escape the jobless doldrums, partly to watch Craig do his bassplayer thing alongside Vorn Doolette, and partly to meet Durdlin (along with partner Burfit and cat Dr Octagon), one of the few people who have found this blog and kept reading.

We landed in the early hours, and butterflies at meeting someone new were quickly intensified by learning we had to find them straight away to use their stuff for the gig later that afternoon. To their eternal credit they were lovely about being imposed upon by total strangers first thing on a Saturday morning, and my nerves were calmed by a hug, a well-brewed cup of tea and a friendly cat with a funny little face. Bless them all.

(photo stolen from Durdlin's site)

Anyway, having taken their stuff and drank their tea, we pissed straight off to the venue for soundcheck. At this stage I was feeling abysmal: hungry, sore, overtired, carsick, and horribly embarrassed about imposing on a new friend. Thankfully, all it took to snap out of it was spotting a Cibo in West End and knowing I could have one of my favourite lunches (hello fancy tuna sandwich and Blood Orange San Pellegrino, my old friends). Also good: the restorative powers of op-shopping, a shower, and a nap.

I met Durdlin & Burfit at a West End café for Vorn's gig. It was very cute to see Craig a little nervous in front of a fellow bass-dude, and more so to notice he got more comfortable after a bass-talk with his new bass-friend. That night it was Burfit's turn to have a gig, and after dinner and latin grooves at Gertie's, Durdlin took us on a tour of New Farm, the Powerhouse and surrounds on a warm, lightly humid night (complete with bats!)

The next morning we had an insanely good breakfast in West End (so jealous of Brisbane local produce -- rain and sunlight and rich soil makes for an awesome organic breakfast spread) before exploring the city; a very handsome one with lush gardens and many outdoor stages amongst gleaming skyscapers and cool old buildings.

We walked across the river to the Gallery of Modern Art, where the 6th Asia-Pacific Triennial of Contemporary Art (APT6) was being held. Durdlin posted about it a while ago so I already knew it was going to be awesome, but I was still surprised at how much I enjoyed an art exhibition. It everything they should be; beautiful, inspiring, funny, affecting, and relevant. I could have gone back all week.

We were finally able to spend a nice relaxed afternoon with our new friends, who shouted us tea and carrot cake, and kind of kept amazing us at being the Brisbane equivalents of me and Craig. Am very glad for strange old place that is the internet, and looking forward to possibly playing host in fair Adelaide sometime down the track.

Here's more photos because it is a nice place (even people on the street asking for money are much more polite) and I want to go back.

Awwwww

2010-02-19T13:51:00.008+10:30

Dear Hannah,
thank ~~yoy~~ you
for being nice to
me on my first
day when I was
really nervous
from Grace

Dear Hannah
Thank you for all your
Hard work we will all
Miss you You were a great
girl thank you so much
Love from, Hugh

Dear Hannah
We will all miss you!
Especily ME!
from Andreanna

A sampling of goodbye messages in a huge card from kids who came in for music lessons at my old work. So cool as I didn't get to say goodbye to any of them, but bad timing because I was all hormonal (baked brownies CHECK got huffy at Craig CHECK) and it made me have a little cry. Please don't let me do a David Brent, hanging around the old workplace, unable to let go...

Learnt

2010-02-16T15:38:00.004+10:30

1) How to vintage-ify photos in Photoshop.

2) How to play 'Breathe Me' by Sia on the piano.

One new thing: welsh cakes

2010-02-15T13:56:00.005+10:30

Welsh cakes are small discs of buttery dough cooked on a flat pan til golden brown, kind of like a cross between a pancake and a scone but really nothing like either of them. Oma (my grandmother) always used to make them for afternoon tea whenever I stayed over. I'd eat them spread with butter, drinking tea from an Everton FC mug in the sunny kitchen that smelt like the sea. Having never made them before I thought I'd give them a crack as my new thing this week, to a) to try and recapture the nostalgia, and b) distract me from my 3rd week of unemployment. Baking is meant to be soothing, yes?

I thought Delia's recipe would be as good as any. They were very easy to make, but sadly not quite the same as Oma's; too dry and crumbly. Maybe I cooked them for too long? Or added too much flour? Was my "small egg" was too small? Who knows. Disappointing, but everyone else liked them, and the whole process stopped me from looking at depressing online jobs for at least an hour. Will try again.

Montular

2010-02-11T23:59:00.006+10:30

My boy's groing up so fast. A few weeks ago he would placidly settle in your hand...

Now he thinks cuddles are for sissies and would rather stalk your feet and chew on your thumbs and hang out with his toy rat. I swear sometimes he's all Muuuuum, stop trying to hug me, you're so embarrassing.

Words on food

2010-02-11T17:04:00.008+10:30

I love passages about food in novels. Reading about what, where, and how the characters are eating turns words into sensual, visceral meaning especially easily. A book called A Food Lover's Treasury is a collection of such passages from all sorts of writers; Douglas Adams, Iris Murdoch, Roddy Doyle, and Solzhenitsyn (mmm, gruelicious) to name a few. I picked it up in Borders the other day and was hooked from the first paragraph I read...

We all got large pieces of hot, crisp, juicy, oily goose and we had a large plate of those bread-rolls that come with great chunks or sea-salt and poppy-seeds baked to the top of them. There was slivovice which Harvey liked and tiny pots of Turkish coffee of which he wasn't so fond. We ate in greedy silence.

Len Deighton, Funeral in Berlin (1964)

I actually remembered this bit from reading The Wind In The Willows as a child. Is it responsible for my love of tea and toast? Who knows...

When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in it in great golden drops, like honey from the honey-comb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender; of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries. Toad sat up on end once more, dried his eyes, sipped his tea and munched his toast.

Kenneth Graham, The Wind In The Willows (1908)

Check it, the entire history of Greece in an olive...

The whole Mediterranean, the sculpture, the palms, the gold beads, the bearded heroes, the wine, the ideas, the ships, the moonlight, the winged gorgons, the bronze men, the philosophers - all of it seems to rise in the sour, pungent taste of these black olives between the teeth. A taste older than meat, older than wine. A taste as old as cold water.

Lawrence Durrell, Prospero's Cell (1945)

There's surprisingly funny food notes from Samuels Butler & Johnson...

Always eat grapes downwards - that is, always eat the best grape first; in this way there will be none better left on the bunch, and each grape will seem good down to the last. If you eat the other way, you will not have a good grape in the lot.

Samuel Butler, The Notebooks of Samuel Butler, (1912).

It has been a common saying of physicians in England, that a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing.

Samuel Johnson, quoted by James Boswell, The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides with Samuel Johnson (1786)

And some good old fashioned British national embarrassment...

The trouble with tea is that originally it was quite a good drink. So a group of the most eminent British scientists put their heads together, and made complicated biological experiments to find a way of spoiling it. ... Once this refreshing, aromatic, oriental beverage was successfully transformed into colourless and tasteless gargling-water, it suddenly became the national drink of Great Britain and Ireland - still retaining, indeed usurping, the high-sounding title of tea.

George Mikes, How To Be An Alien, 1946.

Enough now, I think you get the picture. It's an awesome open-at-random read, and as it's fully referenced, a great introduction to the voices of new authors. It's also an inspiration; instead of slinging some nutri-grain into a bowl for breakfast this morning, I boiled an egg til the yolk was juuust set, and had it flaked on hot buttered toast with salt and pepper. It was spectacular.

So frenchy so cliché

2010-02-05T01:38:00.004+10:30

The 2010 So Frenchy So Chic compilation is a ripper! Best one since the first. They've certainly cornered the quirky evocative pop market, haven't they, the French? There's still every cliché you'd expect on there (1-5-1-5 basslines, driving offbeats, breathy vocals, accordions) but it doesn't get too ooh-la-la and foux de fa fa. Sweet, hip, offbeat and silly, just like a mixtape from your very coolest friend. A taste...

34 songs, $25 from JB HiFi.

Bisous!

One new thing: fake meat

2010-02-02T18:50:00.006+10:30

I've never tried fake meat of any sort. As a non-vegetarian, the whole concept seemed a bit redundant; why not just eat a veggie burger or tofu or tempeh, something that's not pretending to be something else through the use of nefarious artificial flavourings? But the housie has been eating some yummy-smelling MSG-free fake schnitzels lately, and I do want to cut my meat consumption right down, so I gave some veggie mince a crack in a bolognese sauce last night to see if it had any similarity to the real deal.

First impressions were not promising. Uncooked, the stuff was like someone had done a runny poo into a plastic bag and then refrigerated it til solid. But of course, real uncooked meat is much grosser still, so I persevered.

Second impressions were not promising. It did have a finer texture than real mince, the kind you always aim for when breaking up beef for a bolognese, but taste-wise it was a bit blah (though housies 1 and 2 disagreed).

Third impressions, however, were awesome! I turned leftovers into chilli with kidney beans, avocado slices, yoghurt, and corn chips, and it was amaaaaaazing (although it was dinner with corn chips, of course it was amazing). Light, savoury, and with none of the awful heavy aftertaste I'm just beginning to realise eating meat gives you.

So, verdict. Veggie mince: Great, as long as you add loads of extra stuff. 9/10.

Incidentally, this 1 new thing a week caper is getting a bit lame, no? It started out so well (ice-skating! nudie beach!) and has sort of disintegrated into taking photos and making spaghetti. Will either try harder or only blog about the good ones.

Please don't stay in touch

2010-01-31T12:13:00.004+10:30

Bless that Lily Allen; she IS a right chav, but in the cutest way ever. The chorus to this song has been in my head since Thursday night, and look, I apologise for all the bad language in this blog lately, but sometimes it can't be helped.

Merci beaucoup! Au revoir!

Anarchist paradise

2010-01-31T01:12:00.003+10:30

From Toothpaste For Dinner of course.

Last night

2010-01-29T23:24:00.009+10:30

It's a Thursday night after a reasonably productive evening's work at the school; I finish an online conversation with Durdlin and focus my mind on the weekly accounts. All the teachers are called in tonight for a rare meeting, so there's a buzz in the air as everyone catches up in the corridor.

The boss interrupts my counting and takes me and Craig aside. I make a joke about secret meetings but all he does is sit us down and quietly but clearly lets me know that he has sold the business and he is no longer my boss and I am no longer needed and behind the sudden haze I register that tears are in his eyes, not mine.

I also dimly register that suddenly I don't have a job anymore. I register fuck you, a hearty fuck you very much for not having the balls to let me know sooner than the night I lose my job. Panicked thoughts flash about jostling for room; I would have saved more, I would have spent less, I would have helped him, what am I going to do, how long can I go.

I muscle down the panic for now, quietly accept an envelope with a letter of recommendation and a business card for a recruitment agency, and choke out that I think I'm going to go. He hugs me to him tight, he smells like stale laundry. We are alone in the room now and I go and get my things from the desk still cluttered with the takings of the little business I have been running for the last 3 years. The meeting happens in hushed tones in the next room.

Tearfully lost in the moment for a while, I am letting my favourite teachers know what happened before turning off my phone. We drive to the beach and sit on the cold sand and watch the full moon shine on the water. I let the thoughts come and go, and try to clear my mind for whatever will come. The panic and frustration and sadness slowly gives way to calm, to cautious relief. I said it in the messages but I tentatively believe it too; I'm fine.

Drawn-on diamonds

2010-01-29T17:58:00.005+10:30

It's funny; I don't think I'll ever dye my hair or get anything pierced, but I do like the idea of a tattoo one day. But what to get? My only criteria thus far are as follows: small, simple, different, meaningful, and beautiful. This is probably as close as I've found to the ideal...

A neat little diamond outline on the ring finger. I suppose the most obvious meaning an alternative to conventional symbols of commitment (ie a wedding or engagement ring), but I'd also see it as a reminder of material desire's temporary nature, and that the most precious things (love, trust, integrity, etc) are unable to be held, yet are the only things able to be treasured forever (spew, etc). Also it encapsulates how I feel about marriage in a way that is hard to explain.

Anyway, image by tattoo artist Amanda Wachob, who is incredible.

Ella for all!

2010-01-27T20:08:00.005+10:30

Do you like Ella Fitzgerald? Do you live in Australia? Well get yourself onto iTunes quick-sticks and purchase all 254 songs of her classic songbook series for $16.99! This surely is a mistake on iTunes' part, as the US store equivalent is going for $160 or something. It's almost enough to make you feel dishonest... but at least it's more legit than Bit-Torrenting it*.

*Ugh, "Bit-Torrenting it", sorry. At least I've never said I would "action" something, TELSTRA LADY ON THE PHONE JUST NOW, I'M LOOKING AT YOU.

Australia day

2010-01-27T01:21:00.005+10:30

We all have a day off, it is 3pm, and I feel like making nachos.

There are 3 girls walking down the train tracks on my way to the shops, dressed in barely anything, blaring tinny RnB and calling each other fucking cunts. I pass them, and then I feel a hand trying to slip my shopping bag off my shoulder. Gripping it harder, I turn around to the girl, 13, with a face full of bravado and detached curiosity about what I am going to do next. "Give us your bag" she says. "No" I say, and try to yank it back.

Her friends run up too and we're all grabbing and I'm thinking about my favourite wallet and the $50 I need inside it and my phone with it's precious store of text messages and I feel a wave of panic at the thought of losing them. "Give... us... your fucking... bag". "Why? What do you want?" I'm stubbornly rambling in a shaky voice and in the mess of shouting and yanking and panicking they somehow disappear.

I walk the aisles in a daze and get a car ride back home. I try to turn it into a joke, the attempted mugging by 13 year old girls, but feeling sharp remnants of fear and bravado, theirs and mine, make it hard.

The boys return to the couch for TV and beer and I'm in the kitchen mashing beans and slicing avocados and thinking about possessions, youth, pack behaviour, boredom, prejudice, menace, fear, and tenacity.

So I got to wondering

2010-01-26T18:39:00.009+10:30

I text a student his next lesson time, he texts back to confirm, and tacks on "are you free for a drink some time next week?" This simple question fills me with dread, and it's made worse because I actually like the guy and want to be his friend. Yes I'd like to go out for a drink, but it's not that simple, is it? What exactly am I agreeing to? Does he want to make a new mate, or make a new mate? Do boys ask girls out for a drink if their intentions are pure?

Just to make sure (as I am more than a little insecure and socially awkward) I ask for translation from men-folk in my immediate vicinity and the consensus is that, no question, he's asking me on a date. I compose a long involved text message back which includes the phrases "drinks would be great", "I should let you know I'm seeing someone", and "I understand if you don't want to". I feel icky sending something so messy and presumptuous, but am relieved to clear the air and do the right thing. Phew. Sorted.

His response?

"Sorry to give you the wrong impression, but I just meant as mates."

AARGGHAGGHH. Cue mega-embarrassment and gnashing of teeth as to how I got it all wrong. Sorry to get all Carrie Bradshaw on you, but really. I am glad that I get to make a new friend, but just when you thought you had the male of the species sorted...

One new thing: sh1ft.org project

2010-01-20T13:15:00.011+10:30

I've never done a photography project before. This one, from sh1ft.org, asks you to "take 1 photograph as your answer to each of the questions below." So, instead of cleaning the kitchen this morning, and despite most of them not being questions, that's what I did.

1. What is the first thing you see in the morning?

2. The biggest thing to happen to you recently/soon?

3. Your best mirror shot

4. The person that you see the most in a week

5. Your favourite shoes

6. Your favourite meal

7. The colour of your eyes

8. Your favourite place to be on a Friday night

I should try more of these; I like direction. Could've been a bit more creative though, these are pretty boring. I cheated a bit and used an old kitten photo, and there's honestly a few other places I'd rather be on a Friday night than in bed reading Aldous Huxley, but close enough for jazz! Please will you do it too and let me know?