Friday, January 13, 2006
Home, home, home, home....
I'm at home! I've almost lost my voice singing eighties songs on my little brother's Christmas present, and have just had my social life organised by Bex over the phone. Looking forward to seeing Fran and Mon and Liz and am presently rating hot blooded revenge above cold blooded revenge. Life is good with half a bottle of red wine inside you...
I was going to post photos of our holiday on this blog but my camera was stolen in Melbourne at the Arts Centre. A thousand curses on you, stealer of my camera. May quendas eat your face in the night and the face of your first-born son. May you catch many trains between Perth and Adelaide. May you be trapped in Adelaide indefinately with no hope of possible escape. Hex hex hex.
Tagged with
*friendly lovelies*
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Adelaide
,
Bex
,
Melbourne
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Happy New Year, Sarah. Phew, Australia seems very big.
ReplyDeletexx
And by the way, I reprised some of your pre Christmas blogs (catching up you see) and loved your kanga song. Sooo Philip Larkin. I remember an early Larkin effort on Kangaroos that finished
ReplyDeleteThey can fuck your shoe, too
with their squelchy doo, doo.
At least I think it was Larkin.
I thought that I was so freaking original too. This is Barthes in action.
ReplyDeleteDidn't ol Roland have something to say about Kangaroos in Mythologies? I'm sure it was in the chapter on boxing.
ReplyDeleteI'd never even heard of Philip Larkin until your reference (call me antipodal) and within twenty four hours I've seen another two. Bizarre, isn't it.
ReplyDeleteHmm, it is spooky. Personally I found Larkin (writing in the 50's and 60's) to have been a bit of a miserable bugger who didn't like women much but I'm sure you antipodeans have more than your fair share of such types. Below is one of his most famous poems, so I suppose he can be partially forgiven for being such an arse.
ReplyDelete'This be the Verse'
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
Here's a witty link to him:
http://www.artofeurope.com/larkin/
I'm sure I've heard that poem before, seems strangely familiar. I shall go forth and find the [perhaps a little misogynistic] Larkin.
ReplyDeleteHow literary I shall become.
Larkin's sure larkin' about a lot these days, been hearing about him from others too.
ReplyDeleteI still can't believe you're home again, Sarah.