Things have lived and died since I last could write (my host site, for one). Happily, they’re mostly back on their feet in interesting new forms.
as detailed elsewhere, the weekend after the Bar Broadway gig Eug took time out for a week, which has had some pretty spectacular ripple-on effects…
So, music course finished, great success; now i still struggle to find time to do the daily practice that I really need but Siren are gigging again and looking at our recording options. Did a great party in the Naremburn church/studio for Ingrid, my beautiful friend La Boheme of the Burbs… she sure knows how to throw a party. Ingrid Morley, ladies and gentlemen, woman of impact, sculptor, teacher, mother, and lover to the delightfully nutty Richard. We, Siren that is, went over so well, it was a bit of a thrill. And I’m being paid with a sculpture of myself; my first Morley. Very exciting.
Enjoyed three beautiful dancers Kristina Chan, Kathy Cogill and Lina Limosani in out of water, Nelly Benjamin’s gorgeous metayogic choreography at the Performance Space, with Dean Watson’s bold and amusing grounded on air; also Tess De Quincey Co, which Drew and I both thought worthy but not as confronting as it should have been. Or at least might have been.
Saw the Queensland Ballet, one of my alma maters so to speak, under ‘new’ director. Hmm(mutter mutter)…
been listening to Sinead O’Connor’s the lion and the cobra and Gil Scott-Herron’s ghetto style, which i found in cool randwick bus-stop shop The Plum; also, playing my chick music compilations from the lovely Justin (enjoy his blog), for Louise.
Today i do battle with the ghost of my father, and my father’s father. (my father’s father died before i was born, after leaving his eldest son, my father, to support the family from his teens. My father made me his heir, though he would have liked a son, indeed would no doubt have imprisoned my mother under heaps of children if she’d allowed it. We were two girls, but that’s another story. Dad’s still pretty much alive. My inheritance is material only in the genetic sense, as was his.) My father and my father’s father are both fascinating men, talented men, men of strength and weakness, troubled men. Men who leave only their footprints when they die. For myself, I want to leave a tangible legacy, as they both also wanted. Something more than a lifetime’s landfill. Something to free a lineage of the curse of waste. For this i do battle with a weakness i perceive to be congenital.
thank gods i have no children.
Then there’s the shamanism thing: whence my philosophical musings on the nature of energy have led me… a critical spirituality.
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