Notes from a Bottomfeeder

There are no words to explain how much I owe to Amanda Palmer's new record Theatre is Evil. 

I have barely turned it off. I dance and cry and laugh and hide under my covers to it every day. It gets me out of bed and has made me feel things I'd forgotten. Not all welcome feelings, but important, sad, beautiful ones. 

I have had Bottomfeeder buried in my head ever since I first heard it. I was sitting on my bed with Anna and simply burst into tears half way through. My larynx felt like it was being pulled out of my throat. I was feeling a pain that I should have let myself feel many years ago but never did. I still get that feeling every time I hear it, though it's not as bad as the first listening. As awful as it is at the time, when the song finishes I breath fresh air and am just a little more okay with everything. 

It's always swimming around in my head which and I felt like it was a shame not to capture that passion I had for it somehow... I couldn't help but record it and put it somewhere and get it out of my system to an extent. It was so liberating.

So, yeah. Here, if you haven't seen. My first recording of anything ever. Unless you count my year 10 reciting of the periodic table that I used to play while falling asleep to memorise it.

...but you probably have seen it because I put it everywhere in the hope that it was terrible, someone would politely tell me and I could take it down as quickly as possible. 

I know my singing is average at best but I've never really sung at all. The entire idea of myself singing is rather alien. Is that strange? I mean, I have loved and listened to music since I can remember but always felt unworthy to sing along to it. I guess that's something I've finally taken from Amanda...The idea of doing something because you love it and feel it, which will make it beautiful, irrelevant of how technically good it is.

I wouldn't mind if people said they disliked it but no one has (yet). People are being so supportive and wonderfully constructive; giving me voice exercises and abundant encouragement and love. I'm not looking for a career out of making music but I'd definitely be up for getting better at it. I am so overjoyed that people are taking time out of their lives to help me and not to be negative. It's amazing.
 
So really, what I wanted to say is thank you to everyone. You are all beautiful and I love you all.
 
...and thank you Amanda & GTO for making such phenomenal art, all the time and everywhere. 

You can pay whatever the hell you want for the album HERE
 
long live the punk cabaret! 

Love x

Mailbox invasion goodness. The second coming.

My second mailbox invasion package from Amanda Palmer arrived in the mail today! It's a beautiful black moleskin and came with the next 7" (not yet played) and a beautiful letter that made me cry a little. I'm glad her journal writing is similar to mine. No one's going to fucking read it so you should just  do what you want with is. Amuse yourself. Help yourself.

My last journal took a couple of months to fill. I hope that somehow this one refills pages magically so I can always have it with me and write whenever I need to. Somehow, I don't think Amanda is THAT magical. Maybe.

anyway.

This is a scrawl on my arm within a journal post within the internet. It's like the inception of blog posts but with more words and less smug actors. Yay!

So, this is the first thing I wrote in my journal. I'm not feeling all that well so forgive me for the morose...ness.

Yeah.

***

As luck would have it, my old journal has only one blank page left. Today I unintentionally left it at home and was struck by a sudden urge to write while I was in the engineering buildings bathroom. It's probably the first glimmer of anything that the place has inspired.

I always seem to have sudden urges to do things like this when I am least prepared for them. I only feel like doing maths when I don't have a calculator. I never want to go swimming when I have bathers but if I'm near a pool in summer without bathers then I can scarcely think of anything else. When I don't have paper, I need to write.

So anyway. This is wrote on my arm today. Possibly changed slightly as a lot of it had rubbed off by the time I was home.

Her head felt big. Not in an inspired, enlightened way. Like someone had attached something heavy to its base overnight. Not something pleasant either. It's the bible or a member of the liberal party or her own mothers scathing disapproval. 

She sits on the dirty toilet lid and her head starts to crumple through her shoulders and lies somewhere in her ribcage like one of Picasso's paintings but too far gone to be accepted at one. An aesthetic oddity not fit for human consumption. 

She sat in the cubical and was convinced she'd never leave.

Feet appeared at the door and her resolve disintegrated. She stood up, unlocked the door and ventured back to reality as best she could.

...I just realised that toilet cubicles do in fact have a lot of paper. I am silly.

The Ruined Piano Sanctuary.

Ever since I'd heard of The Ruined Piano Sanctuary several years ago, I wanted to see it for myself. Found just out of York, Western Australia, it is a place where people can take their pianos that are past their prime and good for little other than firewood. They are left out in fields to be humbly admired and played by those who love the strange form of entropy taking place.


I drove there with my two friends Anna and Miko. After taking a few wrong turns from our mysterious and vague directions (credit: me), finding ourselves at one point driving down a road of sodden stuffed toys strapped haphazardly to trees and rocks, we finally arrived at our desired destination. The fierce morning rain had cleared, leaving a fine day ahead of us.


Lifting the lids of these beautiful musical creatures was a joy in itself. In differing states of decay, some had insides that were almost perfectly preserved. Not all the keys worked- many had warped and were unable to move at all. Others made deep, thumping sounds from within their bowels. There was one time where I pressed a key down and after playing one discordant note, it jammed, seemingly to never play again. An inanimate object had never felt so vulnerable. So alive. 


In the middle of a paddock, a baby grand piano was positioned precariously on a rocky hill. All his varnish had fallen away to reveal a weathered, tired skeleton. The ivory façade of his keys was also long gone. Dilapidated state irrelevant, he still stood magnificent and commanding.

A grand piano that was once resplendent in a crimson coat had since collapsed in tatters to the ground on the opposite end of the field. Her mouth was completely detached from its body so she was conventionally unplayable. Instead, Anna, Miko and I knelt down beside her a and picked and strummed delicately at her insides. The sounds that emanated were alien, surprising, and on all counts, fascinating. 


One of the last pianos we spotted was shaded by a large eucalyptus. The recent storm had caused a spontaneous catastrophe. One of the large overhanging branches had snapped off the trunk and crushed the upright piano it had once protected. He was snapped in two and was a heartbreakingly beautiful sight. 


This is a place that must be seen. I left the Ruined Piano Sanctuary with a renewed appreciation for the complexities of a piano and the sublime beauty of the strange and imperfect. If you have a spare day, go explore. 

Heavy Boots.

Note: This post has a completely unrelated happy ending.

I live in a suburb that was once solely public housingcommission. It is also wheelchair friendly so there are many disabled people living around here. It has exposed me to the reality of living in constant pain and hardship; sometimesinspiringlywonderful, other times desperately bleak.

A few days ago I was in the local pharmacy getting some cold and flu tablets. A lady in a wheelchair who I recognised but did not know by name was there too, muttering irritably. The pharmacist emerged from her office and told the lady quietly something about how she couldn't give her any more medication this month as the government wasn’t going to pay for it. Something like that anyway. I felt bad listening into such a private conversation in public but I couldn’t stop my ears so I just browsed the cheap perfume aisle and tried to look absent-minded.

After the lady had exclaimed many profanities she said loudly to nobody in particular, “No one understands what it’s like to have fuck all. You’re poor so you have to fire a cleaner? Big fucking deal.” As she turned to leave she added “I might as well be fucking dead.”

Her words hit me like a train that had been gathering speed downhill since its inception.

Suddenly, it was my turn at the counter.  The pharmacist grimaced at me apologetically, as though I should be disgruntled by the woman’s words. I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

***

The next day at work I was asked to go buy some chicken. I don’t eat meat so I despise doing this. I always get the most ethical when forced to for work...or I “forget” it on my shopping list. This time however I was told specifically not to buy organic because according to my boss “they’re just too damn expensive”.

ihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihateitihat

After leaving the supermarket I felt as though I’d personally slaughtered 50 chickens.

At some point everyone becomes a hypocrite. I guess this is mine. I do not believe in ending a life for my pleasure but I’m too worried about my boss’ scorn to object. How pathetic.  

Anyway.

As I walked into the delicatessen to pick up our ham order (YAY), the woman in the wheelchair from the pharmacy was talking animatedly to the owner. He had just IOUd her some cigarettes. As I left, she was smoking one outside; a triumphant grin on her face.

I don’t know what to think. Maybe it’s a combination of my flu, hormones and this goddamn dismal weather but these happenings have given me heavy boots.

*** 

I went home and asked people to me to link me happiness. These were the results:

[from tom]

[from sidney]

[from @zendarenn]

[from emily]

[from miko]

[from amy]

[from @jtcphysics]

Literally the Best Thing Ever: National Geographic

http://rookiemag.com/2012/03/literally-the-best-thing-ever-national-geographic/

[from anna]

8-Bit Flower Bouquet 

http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e731/?srp=4

[from @AliceHasWords]

The 50 Cutest Things That Ever Happened

http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/the-cutest-things-that-ever-happened

[from @Warburton]

Lastly: 

make-everything-ok.com/

[from dan]

I love my friends. x

A dinosaur, an angry unicorn and a gun-wielding kitten...

I had some ideas this week and finally had the energy to actually do something tonight. I think they look better in person (these are just phone photos and I'm a terrible photographer) but you get the idea!

This is my dinosaur monstrosity that I painted and assembled. He is yet to be named but I love him anyway. 

...Any name suggestions?

This next one was achieved though ripping the arms off toy soldiers and sticking them on cat and horse figurines. Does that mean the horse has evolved into some sort of aggressive unicorn?  I have no idea but it seems ominous. The old magazines are also finding a good use again which makes me happy. 

That was my night. I should sleep now. 

Love x

Space Fish!

I made space fish!

It has finally found a use for all my old calendars and magazines. Yes, I had lots of books and such about fish as a child.
...I used to breed them.
I was really cool.

As I was making this, I realised how perfectly they blend into a space environment. They look right at home.
Maybe I should do a whole space zoo.

Shit Collecting.

Okay.
So, I haven't written anything here in a couple of weeks. It seems that I only blog when I really should be doing something else. At the moment, that something is sleeping.

Sleeping is for the dead. Or something.

Firstly, exams were a horrible mess that I'd rather just forget. So I am. No talking about exams. I get the dreaded results on the 16th so that's something to look forward to I don't think.

The last month has really been a time to get my shit together.
well...
My thoughts together at least. My life is chronically unstable and I like it that way. I had stable once. It's not for me.


So. Things I have done in dot form in the last month. In no particular order. Dot form is what my brain can do tonight.

• I backed A LOT of Kickstarter and Pozible campaigns...No regrets. They are all amazing projects and I'm so excited for when they're finished and my mailbox gets filled with awesome things that I HELPED CREATE. JOY. I'll post up some new noteworthy campaigns soon too methinks.

• I bought a toy accordion + learnt to play happy birthday on it. (LOVE)

• I made a finger puppet for the wondrous Heather Christian to with her luck for her NY gig...

...there was much rejoicing at both ends.

She also happened to me send the most amazing thing I have ever received in the mail. I stumbled out of my house at about 1pm, still in my pink monkey pyjamas. I'm so glad that I did.

It made my month. I'm yet to find a frame worthy of the lion.

• My sister and I made felt brooches for our English teacher who is moving to Margaret River. Well, she's my sister's English teacher now. She was my English teacher. Now she is just a friend. She is wonderful and inspirational and I really hope she never reads this blog or I fear she will disown me for my terrible spelling, grammar and general lameness.

• I made mother a sunflower brooch for her 50th. After hours of crazy cross-eyed stitching she asked me why I hadn't actually bought her anything. Oh well, can't with them all I suppose.

• I met more of the people coming to my Amanda Palmer House Party (!!!) and we've started planning amazing things. We must hold back. I can't start planning it 8 months in advance or I might have a nervous breakdown and not be able to even see a piano without hyperventilating. So much excitement. 
• I started reading Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman a little while ago and am slowly pulling myself through it. I know that sounds negative but it's hasn't got anything to do with the book. I just haven't read much over the past months. I am constantly stopping and rereading passages. Savouring them; keeping beautiful, poignant sentences fresh in my mind.
• I've started writing and drawing lots. I'm not sure if I want to put them up here or not.. I like them but will anyone else? I don't know. Only one way to find out I suppose...

I am meeting amazing people and doing shit I never dreamed of. It feels pretty fucking excellent.
This is just the beginning. I don't know where to start in terms of explaining so I won't just yet.
Maybe one day soon I'll be more articulate.
My brain is a scrambled, hungover mess. It has lots of things inside it though. Great ideas. Ideas I'm rather proud of. Maybe I'll share them soon. Maybe.

LOVE x

Pear. (with preamble)

I first put this drawing up when I was deadly bored during exams. I took it down soon after because I decided it was lame. I guess it is a bit lame.

A friend tonight said she liked it so I'm putting it up again.

I have been given confidence, enough wine...

...and it's my own freaking awful blog to post whatever I damn well choose.

So I will.

Hush, or the faeries will eat you.

LOVE x

The Music.

[^PLAY THIS^, and if you like it, you should have a read further down...]

So.

Exams have been a horrible mess so far. They're been difficult, draining bastards. All of them. 

They've left me so down in the dumps that all I want to do is fall into a bed of ice cream a caramel sadness. My head is so scrambled and I'm even beginning to question my compatibility to a scientist lifestyle. 

After three and a half years of hard work at university, this is a terrifying thought (and debt) to behold. 

All I can say is...

thank you music.

I know I often go on and on about music to the point of obsession but I'm not apologising for it. I used to, but not any more. If I can give even one person the gift of feeling the joy that I feel from the music I am sharing....listening to an artist you love give their heart and soul to you in musical form and having that pure moment of mutual auditory understanding...

one line making your heart twist like a vice in your chest.

the next making you smile broadly and shamelessly; 

the sort of smile you don't do in public because it makes you look borderline psychotic.

that feeling cannot be replicated by anything else.

pure musical love.

I would take a million haters mildly annoyed by my links and enthusiasm for ONE person to get to have that feeling. 

***

...that being said.

This girl has done that for me this week. Not only are  Heather Christian and the Arbornauts drumming up support and admiration from some seriously HUGE musical names (*ahem*Amanda Fucking Palmer*ahem*Sia*ahem*), but people from all around the world are falling for her beautiful music (me included).

I am no music reviewer...but you know the heart twisty thing and the maniacal grinning that I was talking about earlier? Yeah, that happens an awful lot when I listen to them.

Firstly, Heather Christian and the Arbornauts' debut album is TO DIE FOR. (see at top or the post if you're not playing already) and her kickstarter is an amazing feat of independent musicians spreading the love and celebrating the love they receive back. At the moment Heather doesn't have a piano because she had to sell her old one to make her last record. That means no new music...which is a tragedy. 

Heather hasn't yet reached her target amount on kickstarter, which means she won't get ANY of our money at the if she still hasn't by the end of the month...so please, if you even have a few dollars to spend, spend it here so she can reach her goal. I really want my pledged money to get to her and I can vouch for her awesomeness. 

Have a watch, read and listen and BACK THE KISCKSTARTER. You won't regret it, I promise you. 

Love to you all. x

Days.

I love snails. 

I let them crawl up and down my arms as a child 

I giggled when they tickled me.

My Grandmother boiled them.*

I remember them bubbling and swelling in the water.

They slowly tore away from their shells 

There they floated, dead and exposed to the world.

I tried to keep them safe,

like a friend keeping a secret.

Crunch.

My heart breaks when I unexpectedly break their houses with my clumsy feet.

The squelch reminds me of their slippery, fragile bodies.

Reminiscent of how much joy they used to give me,  

I feel like I've betrayed them every time it happens.

Poor snails.

*I really love my grandmother. Don't judge her. Snails are just the bane of her existence.

Trout Heart Replica.

This song has been swimming around my head for weeks. It's inspired me to try going vegan again after exams...or at least, guilt has convinced me to do it. 


For those who didn't back Amanda Palmer's Kickstarter, it's going to be on her next album Theatre is Evil. It's being released in September and you should DEFINITELY check it out.


I drew this while attempting to bash maths into my brain. The idea was fish trapped and swimming to infinity. I kind of like the idea...imagine if someone with some actual artisic ability drew it?! 


I would love to learn print making and do this properly. Maybe one day...  

 

So yeah. It's pretty fucking great.

***

I got a tumblr today pretty much solely to follow this: 


Sketchbook Story Time. 


...and to post more pictures of my cat on the internet. The internet needs more cats I tell you!


Sad...but beautiful. My favourite post is Jerk Teddybear. 




I'm not sold on the idea of tumblr, mainly because I've only seen it being used by my sisters to reblog thinspiration photos and other ridiculous things...so any other recommendations would be welcome. I'm going to have a lot of time to myself in two weeks and what better way to use it then find cool shit on the internet...right?


This is mine! 


Salty Stockings.


I called it that because I like alliterations and swimming with stockings on. If you'd never tried it, you must. It changes your life. Plus, it sounds hip enough, right? I'm going to fit in really well.


I don't know how it works really yet...I'll figure it out after these godawful exams and inevitably become addicted to it as I am with all other social networking sites. Such is life.


LOVE x

Fiona Apple.

Fiona Apple’s first album in seven years is being released next week and I feel compelled to write this.  
So I am.

I have no idea how I came to know of her...I think I stumbled across her Myspace (sigh...Myspace...) back in 2006, just as after Extraordinary Machine had been released. I’m not even sure if I listened to any of her songs posted up there upon first glance. Regardless, a couple of months or so after that I was being dropped home by Emily, a friend from work and she was playing Extraordinary Machine. I knew that because I recognised the album art. I mentioned her and she told me about her long hiatus between albums, her OCD and everything else she could squeeze into a 5 minute car ride. I was intruigued by her oddities and as an angst-ridden teenager who liked to think I had some of her own problems, she was a perfect role model.

So the love affair began. She seemed just as angry at the world around her as I was but she was turning that pain and spite into heartfelt, fantastic art. I flew her songs like some kind of like a musical barrier and stood behind it, protecting myself from all the shit-slingers and my own crippling fear and doubt. High school was fun, hey?

Though not as frequently, I still often listen to Fiona’s music. She’s like an old friend I can go back to for advice or strength. I find something new in her cryptic lyrics and complex melodies upon every listen. She has always been brutally honest about the dark cracks of her past and present in interviews and her honestly flows into her songwriting. This, along with her undeniable musical talent has earned her an army of dedicated, loving fans. She stands alone in the quizzical world of popular music, proving that an artist shouldn't churn out a shitty, uninspired album every year just to keep a fan base. You have to fucking feel it.  

The last thing I remember seeing of her:

I haven’t seen anything from her since then. She looked healthy there too. After seeing that interview I would’ve been content if she’d never written another album because (as she said) it’d mean she was happy and off having fun. With her new album release, I suppose happiness is not the case.

I’m not going into the grief she’s been put through by her label (google “Free Fiona” and read her recent NY Times article HERE) or anything else otherwise this post will actually go on forever.  I just wanted to say good and bad, her music opened me up to a whole new world and moulded me into who I am. I am forever grateful to her.  

After six years of being a fan, this is the first of her albums that I'm actually witnessing the release of. It is a strange, exciting feeling. 

So here’s the new stuff.

Flowers.

I like to draw flowers when I am between thoughts. I guess some people would call it a bad habit. They sometimes fill the margin of my page in lecture notes and assignment drafts. The ones I drew today are particularly well detailed however, which is rather indicative exactly how much procrastination has taken place. I really need this fortnight to be over. I am so tired.

But yay! Flowers! I think I will get some real ones for my room tomorrow. Study may be more bearable with their faces smiling at me.

Lead Balloon.

Dear Lead Balloon,
This is your final eviction notice.
You wrapped yourself around my wrist so many years ago and pulled me down. I cannot remember a time when it didn't feel as though I was falling.
Your string found its way down my arm and into my chest. You tug and strangle my heartstrings, cutting off my love affairs with a single motion, leaving me alone, bruised and hurting.
You moved through my arteries and lodged yourself in my brain. You've lived there ever since, leaving dirty dishes in my cerebellum and whispering doubtful nothings in my auditory canal.
I was not aware of you for years. I thought the clutter and the doubt was my own but I am old enough to know better now. I need you to let me let you go.

Brain.

This is what my brain feels like right now.
Full of fish.
There isn't actually any fish in it so it is a lot less exciting.
If there was then I would like looking in mirrors a lot more than I do.
I would be my very own screensaver like the ones on company computers sometimes.
There isn't.
It feels like it though.
How disappointing.

Heart.

I woke from the strangest dream yesterday.  I remember it being very long and convoluted but within even the first few minutes of conciousness, what had occurred started to trickle out of my mind.  I then had to rush off to work so I couldn't write it down until now...

I cannot remember the exact reason for my actions...maybe there wasn't one. All I remember is ripping open my chest and scooping out my heart. There was no ribcage to stop my fingers and I felt no pain. Then again, I don't think I've ever caused myself physical pain in a dream. Can you even do that? I don't know. Dreams are weird. I digress.

As soon as I somehow pulled away the arteries I realised what I had done. Before this I was merely curious as to what would happen. After this shock, I seemed to just wander about attempting to seek help. All my attempts were in vain...I was trapped for a while in a broken elevator and yelled up to a lady lying atop a tree who was unable to hear me, constantly aware of my lack of heartbeat.

Finally, I just placed it back inside my chest, devoid of any beat and waited for the inevitable. It was not the best nights sleep I have had. It is why I am not asleep now.

Babes being babes.

This week has been a massive struggle between finding time to do the things I really need to do and experiencing everything I want to. I've been ill for two weeks now and desperately need to catch up on the things I've missed (mostly done now) but there is SO MUCH happening outside the sphere of university life. It's quite distracting.

Alice and I are rubbing noses. She started it.

First and foremost...
I'M HOSTING AN AMANDA FUCKING PALMER HOUSE PARTY!
FUCK. YES.



I could not be any more excited about it without becoming physically ill. As I'm writing, Amanda's Kickstarter is quickly approaching 17,000 backers with an average of about $50 pledged per person. The money is going towards her new album/tour/art book and it's sounding RIDICULOUS already.You can get the first single FREE from her website now!

I need to actually blog about this properly rather than keeping on just mentioning it like this. One day. It will be a long blog. There will be lots of feelings.

SHE JUST REACHED $800k!

Anyway. To life.

I went to see Kimbra Monday night. She is gorgeous and her band and songs have evolved into something truly spectacular since seeing them last year at The Astor and later Southbound 2012. When she runs on stage with those unreal legs with a huge grin on her face you can see her get lost in the joy of performing. It's infectious. I found myself staring at the amazing woman in front of me thinking 'this is the shit. She's made it. Completely. Move over world, etc.'

Then I looked a little closer...

I don't mean to assume I could read her every thought...but I sensed something that worried me. She looked put off when even the smallest thing went wrong. Things that nobody else cared about that she was bringing unnecessary attention to. The time that comes to mind first is when she was playing Wandering Limbs and was struggling with the vocal distortion...Which she was doing all live; a feat in itself. She ended up starting the song again, apologising profusely. It was clear that she was beating herself up about it. It was a little heartbreaking.

It sometimes slips my mind that this unbelievably talented, mature woman is only 22- less than 2 years older than me. She must be plagued with insecurities like anyone in their early 20s...maybe that's why she insists on the costume changes and such...filling up her performances with distractions...maybe? I don't know. All I know is that she doesn't need it. I guess she hasn't been around long enough to know she has it in the bag yet.

I thought about this shit while walking to my car. When is the right time to consider ourselves successful? I think I'm a complete failure some days but whenever I voice this, people tell me that I'm talking rubbish and studying physics and chemistry at university is success in itself. Maybe I'll never be completely satisfied with my life and my achievements. Maybe no one is.

Then I thought of this:

My heart lightened. We already have it all if we're doing what we love. I wish Kimbra knew it too.

Alice is dreaming. So should I.

LOVE x

A Medley of Music News

Hello.
I am stuck in a fickle. I was going to write a blog this week...and then decided against it numerous times. I actually started typing, had almost finished and then deleted it all a few days ago. I'm going to attempt one now as my brain is to mushed to attempt to finish my lab report but there are too many thoughts in my head to allow sleep just yet so...here. bleurgh.

Firstly, I am terrified of my blog turning into too much of a self-absorbed, angst-ridden teenager's diary. I guess that's what it is...but shh, don't tell anyone. I want to write about things that have happened in my life for myself more than anything else, as I've said in previous blogs. It helps me truly appreciate and remember the good things that have happened and I always finish writing them feeling a buzz of achievement. Feelings consisting of:

YES. MY LIFE HAS MEANING. I DO THINGS AND THEY'RE REALLY FUCKING GREAT SOMETIMES.

Which is good. Thinking about good things is pleasant.

So first, I will talk about music.

There have been SO MANY gigs I have been to in the past few weeks that really deserve mentioning. I will at least tell mention Florence and the Machine. She is one spectacular woman.  Her unbelievable voice paired with her captivating stage presence made me literally cry with happiness. She spun and leapt around the stage, maintaining her vocals effortlessly. In contrast, her quaint mannerisms while speaking and humble appreciation of her audience was a beautiful thing to behold. This is a shitty photo from my phone for you. I only took two, I promise. I'm not one of 'those' people who has their phone up the entire night...

The things that I had against the evening were no fault of her own. Maybe I'm just getting old and sentimental but I really wish that musicians like Florence didn't play at the Burswood Dome. Yes, it's fucking enormous and the stage is ridiculously large and well supervised but the sound is shit. I don't know why. I should look into the physics of it...but something to do with the pressure in the dome makes the music sounds like it's being played really far away or in an outdoor venue. The atmosphere isn't right. I don't know. I will figure it out and have another massive whinge about it.

Big also means douche bags. You can never escape them and Florence's crowd was pretty full of them. Fucking Perth. One man actually pretended to be having an psychotic episode just so he could get a little way in front of me. The motherfucker was tall too. What an insensitive creep. Who does that?

BUT YES. Yay, Florence is beautiful but I'd really like it if next time she does a few smaller gigs at better venues.  They would still be able to have spectacular stage design in other places I'm sure. Belvoir? At least having to drive for a few hours to get there would sift out some of the massive douches. Sigh.

In other (but still music related) news, CROWD FUNDING IS GOING CRAZY RIGHT NOW. I plan to dedicate a blog to it soon as there are many very exciting things happening that I can properly articulate right now. Too tired. Too sick.

BUT.

HAVE A LOOK AT THESE:

Amanda Palmer KILLING IT on KICKSTARTER:
   


The beautiful Tom Dickins and OUR NEW ALBUM (yay!)




and none other than the BEN FOLDS FIVE people!
http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/benfoldsfive
It didn't have a cool widget on the site but I've given you the link above so GO LOOK! IT'S BEN FOLDS FIVE FOR FUCKSAKE!

I am so excited about all of these projects and seeing how they develop. THIS IS THE FUTURE OF MUSIC so you better go and see what it's going to be like.
Epic. That's what. No lowsy labels. No rules. Freedom.

LOVE x

The last thing I say about Melbourne, I promise.

Okay, I think I have almost loved Melbourne enough on this thing...and I have recent life developments which I want to talk about.

LIKE MY HAIR! It's about 2cms long now! Exciting!
...and other things that are far more exciting than that, I promise.

Yana and I went to Melbourne Zoo the Thursday we were there (26-04). The animals were in fine form and their keepers were well informed and engaging. It is obvious that their breeding programs the zoo were working and were well publicised throughout the zoo, allowing visitors to look behind the scenes and view many enclosures of young animals. Perth Zoo has amazing breeding programs in place too but the public awareness of this fact is less than adequate. It was great to know that the $20 I paid for entry was going to be invested in both public awareness and conservation. Not to mention  recycled water and paper was used throughout the entire place. Gosh darn, these kids have thought of everything.

The monkeys were adorable and their enclosures were absolutely amazing. Below is a (fairly poor quality) picture of baby and its parents. Cuteness overload. 

Butterfly house! I miss the Perth one so much...

I'd post the rather homoerotic photo of two lions but I'm scared it'd get flagged or some shit. I also can't be fucked finding my camera. I'm guessing that particular breeding program isn't going too well...

So yeah guys. The next time you're in Melbourne this place deserves a god damn visit.

That night I went out with a friend to see Mojo Juju at The Toff. She features in Kim Boekbinder's music video for "Stalker". That is literally all I knew about her. She was unlike any other performer I had seen. Awesome.

The Toff also stood up to its admirable reputation, complete with adjoining rooftop bar and restaurant  below. I was pretty much in heaven.

We then traipsed on over to Cherry Bar where it was Soul Night. Such fun!

The next night was most people's last in Melbourne so we all met up at The Corner Hotel to see An Horse. I've been wanting to see the place ever since Megan Washington broke the standing record for the number of sellout shows there (five!).  

[I just have to pause this blog to eeek at Amanda Palmer RTing me. Twitter is going crazy on me. I need a life...]

ANYWAY. The Corner is a beautiful venue complete with excellent sound and red curtains that open and close in between sets. An Horse completely rocked it and they were lovely when I stumbled over my words when I met them after. Crush totally developing.

I really need to end this Melbourne love-fest at some point so I will leave you with these dew things...

1) Lawrence Greenwood is a total babe. He sang old Whitley songs and his new songs and read poetry. All the good things.

2)When walking down Brunswick street to get to Lawrence Greenwood on my final night I was caught in a moment. It was growing dark and raining ever so softly. I had never felt more at home in a place. My eye's welled up with tears as I silently said goodbye to the beautiful city. A city I hope to soon call my home. 

That is all. I will stop myself there or I may never stop. 

Melbourne: Day 1

Have a look below if your confused.
General gist: I went to Melbourne and now I'm talking about it.

I didn't sleep on the plane so I think I'll just transcribe what I wrote out of my sheer boredom.

25/04/12 1:45am

So, here I am on a plane to Melbourne. I've barely had time to think about the days ahead yet the fact that I'm going to be virtually alone in a city I barely know is both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

This was planned sleep time. I had it all sorted; 4 hours of erratic, underwhelming rest. This plan seems unlikely now however due to the fact my chair doesn't recline. I'm not doing it wrong or trying hard enough. It just doesn't work. Also, it seems as thought the seat in front of me has acquired all of my seat's recline ability. Feeling claustrophobic in my tiny little pod of existence.

 I don't think I can recall seeing a more beautiful view outside my window. stars span the sky like a think, glittering spider web. Looking p at them gives me a similar feeling to the the prospect of the next couple of days: so overwhelming but at the same time I feel wonderfully empowered. I embrace both the stars and my near future as someone would with anything they love. Amanda Palmer's cover of Creep is playing through my ears. All is good in this current miniature world. Possibly not ideal (I could be unconscious instead) but how could I complain? This flight cost me $100 and I am going on what feels like my first big adventure. I do not fear the mistakes I will inevitably make because of the stories they will create and the lessons I'll learn.

I feel free; uninhibited by the expectations of my own city. Fuck, it's a fantastic feeling.

***what follows is a song about a falling girl and and a drawing of a weird bird thing. I was really tired. Don't ask.***

I got in on Wednesday at 6am. It was 10 degrees centigrade and raining- very Melbourne it seems. The Tiger Airways baggage claim was a shed virtually open to the elements. It was a bit ridiculous but I can barely complain. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I chose to fly with them. Almost. I was also in Melbourne so no matter how tired or sore I was I didn't care. I was so excited.

After I finally figured out how to get to Yana's apartment we walked a very quiet Brunswick and Gertrude street as nothing is open on ANZAC Day morning. We did however look at a lot of churches and walk through Captain Cook's cabin. I felt very cultured.

Now for the part where I talk about why I was actually there. Finally. Kim Boekbinder's gig was the first time I had met pretty much everyone from the Amanda Palmer fan base over East. They are such an eclectic group of people with very different lives and occupations but are all supporting this same wonderful music. It's like a little family. They all adore music so much and more importantly, the people that create it. I feel incredibly honoured to now be included in such a wonderfully close group of people.

Now, for the night itself... I was expecting great things and I definitely got that. Brendan Maclean opened for the night. I had only heard one of his songs before the night and followed him on twitter because he is hilarious. He sang some truly beautiful songs which got me laughing and tearing up simultaneously. You know the shit's good when that happens.

Kim Boekbinder is so hard to explain. Impossible even. She is something that needs to be seen and heard to be believed or understood. But trust me: she was wonderful. She got down and danced with the crowd mid-song and gathered us all round her when she played her last song on the ukulele. She is a beautiful, utterly inspiring creature and I am so proud to be supporting her while she makes her next record. It is sounding phenomenal and I think I've almost fallen in love with her synth as much as she has. This is a song from her first solo record:

And this is where you can support her crowdfunding extravaganza! http://www.theimpossiblegirl.com/

Not only was the music amazing that night, there were almost as many musicians in the crowd that I admire tremendously as simply fans of Kims. It was fantastically surreal and special. They were all out there to support someone they love. I tried desperately not to fan-girl out over everyone. I did give Tom Dickins a hug though and stumble over a few words with Brendan regarding how beautiful ballet dancers from New Zealand are. Sigh. One day I will be less socially awkward. One day.

And then I was tired and went to bed. Like I am doing now.

LOVE x