Tips for Men

Tip for Men #1: Never cancel a date via text within 24 hours of the date. You've already ruined her day and made it clear you're not that into her. At least be a man about it.

Tip for Men #2: Shower. Every day. And wear deodorant.
There is no exception to this rule.

Tip for Men #3: Never washing your jeans was a marketing gimmick invented by Nudie to make more money. They age better if you wash them every couple of months. Wash your jeans.

Tip for Men #4: Own a peacoat. Preferably in navy. Every man looks good in a peacoat.

Tip for Men #5: Get your teeth cleaned by a dentist once a year. I am deadly serious about this. You think I'm exaggerating don't you? I'm not. Noone will tell you that you have bad breath so just do this ok?

Tip for Men #6: Let women into and out of elevators and trains first. Yeah it's old-fashioned but it makes everyone feel special. (Women: if a man does this ALWAYS smile and say thankyou).

Tip for Men #7: Women are less overt in their flirting than you think. If a girl smiles at you, smile back. If she's still smiling she wants you to talk to her, I promise. Don't walk away it'll break her heart.

Tip for Men #8: When a woman uses the word "fine", it never is.

Tip for Men #9: Don't take other people's advice too seriously. Even mine.

Fear, or How Self-Preservation Broke my Heart.

What would you do if you knew the man you were dating had cheated on his ex-wife? That he’d cheated on her as a teenager, and that she’d found out but he’d apologised and begged her to take him back and she did, and they were engaged and married not long after? And then five years into the marriage he’d done it again. And again. For the remaining four years of their marriage while his wife was at home with two children.

And what if you then heard that even before this he’d tried to kiss a 19-year-old girl. His friend’s sister (now, coincidentally, a friend of yours) who he knew had a boyfriend, while his pregnant wife sat at home?

What if you managed to let this go because he said he’d changed. That he was young and stupid then. That he felt sorry. That he hadn’t cheated on the girlfriend of two years who came after the wife and that that was how he knew he’d vanquished those demons.

What if he told you that this next relationship began only 3 months after the one with his wife ended? That a year into this new relationship he broke up with the girl. That a few weeks after the break-up (but before they got back together) he slept with her work colleague and future housemate, who’d been living with them temporarily. Would you let this go because he’d been drunk? Because it wasn’t technically an infidelity because they'd been broken up? Even with all the other indiscretions piled up against him would you still love him?

And what if you knew that he’d slept with a married woman? A friend of his who was confused in her own marriage? Not long after his marriage ended but before the next relationship started? Could you forgive this also?

What would you do if you could let all this go? If you could begin a relationship with him not 3 months after his previous one had ended (the one that began only 3 months after the end of his marriage). Despite your better judgement. Despite all your reason. Despite your own sense of what is right and wrong. You could agree to love and trust this man and open your heart to him. Because he said he would never cheat on you. Because he said he had never cheated on his last girlfriend. Because he said if he cheated again after his wife, and the subsequent three years of therapy, he would kill himself because it would mean he hadn’t changed.

What if you then found out that he’d slept with that married friend more than once. What if you found out that he’d slept with her while his last girlfriend was overseas. What if you found out that he had, in fact, cheated again. With a woman who had a husband and children at home.

What would you do?

Please tell me.

What would you do.

Such be life

A recent avalanche of significant events has me feeling discombobulated. I’m fluctuating between sickening bliss, terror, fury, and fervent motivation of a kind usually reserved for evangelical extremists.

Here are the reasons:

1. First of all, there’s the problem of dating one person exclusively, and seeing them every day for two three (holy shit) solid months. Not only has my hard-earned independence disappeared, but so too my ability to be alone without pining for my lover’s company.  I mean, seriously, who am I? The saccharine quality of the time we spend together is so cloying I’m getting diabetes. But I CANNOT. KEEP. AWAY. Heroin would consume less of my time.

2. Then there’s the housemate who refused to leave when asked to do so. And who has become so Dexter-like in personality that I’m finding it difficult to physically and emotionally manage the level of terror, dread and fury she elicits in me.

God help my filthy pride, which would serve me better by shutting its dirty mouth and just letting me give in to all her unreasonable demands.

3. It’s three days until Polish family Christmas. Enough said.

4. And finally (well not quite, but some things don’t bear mentioning, even by one as honest as myself) there is my desire to finally get the theatre work up that I’d started planning 6 months ago but haven’t made any progress on since August, due to a combination of point 1, and fear. As well as my almost fanatical desperation to be involved in a film project with someone I consider an inspiration and (reluctant) mentor. Which, incidentally, I’ve already been told I can help with and which I’ve already put a little time into but which my impatient personality won’t allow me to stop obsessing over.

So.

No, wait. Hold up. I just thought of another thing.

5. That thing where when you start to love care about someone, you involuntarily begin to take on all their stress and pain as if it were your own. That thing’s happening to me too. 

So. That’s where it stands with me right now. Can you see why stuff be crazy in my head, heart and stomach?

Yeah...

So.

Such be life.

Afterword

I’m aware that as my readership slowly grows, and inevitably amongst people who actually know me, some of the life facts that I choose to disclose may seem overly candid. If that’s the case, I apologise. Albeit insincerely. If I can live with it, so can you.

The Unbearable Weight of Staying

I have discovered, recently, an overwhelming and almost uncontrollable urge to escape any situation that makes me feel anything too strongly.

Because I am terrified with my current situation. With the potential for hurt, and disappointment - both my own and his. And the possibility, or inevitability, of the discovery of ugliness. And the future realisation that we are not perfect, neither individually nor for eachother.

And I wonder what the fuck I am doing here.

And I am reminded once again why I chose a solitary life.

On such a full sea are we now afloat

Why am I feeling so lost and discombobulated? Is this how it’s meant to feel when you meet a person you are attracted to and enjoy spending time with? Because if so, I think there may be a terrible flaw in the way our emotions develop and someone needs to say something about it.

I feel excited, scared, distrustful, happy, beautiful, anxious, exhausted, nostalgic, uncertain, protective and confused. In equal parts.

I mean seriously.  How is that a positive combination?

I’ve lost 3 kilos and I haven’t been to the gym in weeks. My room is a mess, I've got almost no clean underwear, I haven’t changed my bed linen and my dogs have forgotten what the park looks like. My parents are permanently annoyed with my lack of communication, my housemate is pretty much living alone, I have done no work on either of the theatre projects I had in planning, and I spend my work days writing about and reading up on things completely unrelated to work. I am, in a word, distracted.

And the most disturbing thing is that it’s gotten increasingly worse until today my head has screamed with the hurtful thought, “What am I doing?” and my instinct is to cut and run before I lose the wonderful relationship I’ve cultivated with myself over the last 3 years. But then what is the purpose of life if not to love and what will my life be if I forever run from that?

Well, peaceful for one. And lonely. Productive. Focused. Centred. And safe. Safe. 

Safe.

That's it isn’t it? Safety.

Predictability and equilibrium. Things I have chased my whole life and will continue to chase because that’s the legacy left by my childhood. But with that emotional security comes self-doubt, and longing, and nights curled up in bed with a Kelpie and an old teddy bear wondering what might have been had I not made the choice to live my life alone. Because I had made that choice. Whole-heartedly. And now the chipping away at my resolve is something terrifying and disorientating. And I long for my boring solo existence when emotions were rational and linear and my own company didn’t feel like there was someone missing from it.

So.

The world according to Ricky Gervais.

"I don't know what happiness is but it's definitely NOT just going with the flow. Going with the flow, for Christ sake? Don't ever go with the flow. Stop the flow, go against the flow, start the flow, but don't under any circumstance just go with the flow. It may ruffle a few feathers, but some people's feathers need a little ruffling. And remember: just because someone is offended doesn't mean they're in the right."


© Rich Hardcastle

Read the entire article here

Peter Temple via Jack Irish

He can write. The man can.

From the novel Black Tide by Peter Temple, soon to be made into a telemovie starring Guy Pearce.

Oh, That Way Madness Lies

A friend recently asked me if I have a “list” of dating non-negotiables.

I can’t remember my exact reaction but it was probably somewhere between a cringe and a guffaw. To me, the idea of making a checklist of desirable qualities seems prescriptive and calculating. It takes the one thing in my life that I approach spontaneously and instinctively, without much thought for my well-being or future, and turns it into something controlled, angst-ridden, and safe… which is how I handle almost every other aspect of my life.

So when it comes to men, I don't have a type. Or a set of requirements that must be met.

But.

There are some things I find very difficult to resist…

Like checked shirts. Blue eyes. Black-framed glasses, and bed hair.
Tattoos.
Hyper-intelligence.
Extensive music knowledge and a Penguin classic beside the bed.
Being good with children. Old-fashioned manners. The ability to fix computers or cars.
The courage to sometimes tell me what to do.
An uncontrollable urge to throwdown(1). 

Any one of these things in someone will immediately get my attention. A handful may start to overtake my thoughts. But all these things in one person aren't perfection, they're madness.

So no, I have no list.
But... if a man in a check shirt and messy hair, with tattoos and glasses, doing the cryptic crossword with a Bulgakov sticking out of his bag on the way to a gig, were to stop and open a door for me?

Well, I may just disappear forever.


1. throwdown
an act of sexual passion in which one of the persons involved is so overwhelmed with the urge to makeout/hookup/have sex with the other person that he or she loses control, taking passionate, almost aggressive charge, and intensely makes out with the other. this act may involve pushing someone against the wall or onto a bed and may also include grabbing of the face and hair.
Source

One day...

 
Portia Nelson (1920-2001)
I have carried this around with me since 1997.

Train Song...

Traveling north, traveling north to find you
Train wheels beating, wind in my eyes
Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you
Call out your name love don't be surprised

It's so many miles and so long since I've left you
Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It's many hundred miles and it won't be long

Nothing at all in my head to say to you
Only the beat of the train I'm on
Nothing I've learned all my life on the way to you
One day our love was over and gone

It's so many miles and so long since I've met you
Don't even know what I'll say when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It's many hundred miles and it won't be long

What will I do if there's someone there with you?
Maybe someone you've always known
How do I know I can come and give to you
Love with no warning and find you alone?

It's so many miles and so long since I've met you
Don't even know what I'll find when I get to you
But suddenly now I know where I belong
It's many hundred miles and it won't be long

For my birthday I would like...

full-body hugs, Aesop products, the end of animal suffering, Body Type tattoo books, clear skin, gin & tonics, no anxiety, the DJ to play Moloko, a self-cleaning room, all my friends within arms length, this book, love.

Thankyou.

the reasons why

That night on Russell St when you offered me your jacket, even though you were only wearing a T-shirt underneath
The evening you took my hand and kissed my fingers after I told you something sad about myself, even though we'd only known eachother a couple hours
That time you lay back on your bed with your eyes closed and played your guitar for me
The way you gently, relentlessly and passionately challenged my views on religion and God every time we met
How you would mimic my voice whenever I said anything you thought was cute
The time you used a whole tray of ice on my body to slowly cool me down, in the hot bedroom of your house during that never-ending, Perth Summer
The text message you sent me when I was living in New York that said I was the coolest girl ever to breathe the mix of gases that enables a human to live on this planet
The cupcake you bought me that I never got to eat
That day I forgot my lunch and you made me a toasted cheese sandwich and brought it all the way into the city on the train so that I wouldn't go hungry
The time you dragged me through your front door and into your bedroom, leaving your friends standing in the hallway, because you couldn't wait another minute to have sex with me
The YouTube video you made me
That heartbreaking day we spent together after our awful choice that you somehow made into something wonderful and fun and full of joy
The way you would prepare my dinner every Saturday night, while I was sleeping, to help me get ready for work
That horrible night you got blindingly drunk and called me saying you'd kill yourself if I didn't go out with you
The flower you left on my windscreen after I broke your heart

I don't love you any more.
But I did.
For a moment, a few months, years.
And these are the reasons why.
Thankyou.

fruit trees in bloom..

"The world is a den of thieves and night is falling. Evil breaks its chains and runs through the world like a mad dog. The poison affects us all. No one escapes, not even our children. So it shall be. Therefore let us be happy while we are happy. Let us be kind, generous, affectionate and good. It is necessary, and not at all shameful, to take pleasure in the little world. Good food, gentle smiles, fruit trees in bloom, waltzes."
— Ingmar Bergman

Fanny and Alexander (1982)

My heart belongs to

It takes a lot to win my heart. This'll pretty much do it.

Lentil Pie

4 tins lentils
lots-of-mushrooms (1 brown bag)
1 carrot
2 sticks celery
1 zucchini
1 head broccoli
1 tin diced tomatos
clove of garlic
1 tub tomato paste (the yoghurt-tub ones)
1/2 - 1 cup of stock made with vegemite (nutritional yeast'll do if you're in the US)
splash of red wine
bit of soy sauce
salt pepper etc.
10 sheets of puff pastry - UNsweetened.

In a seriously big pot cook the mushies in oil and garlic till soft. Add all the other vegies (finely chopped for god's sake!) except the lentils. Simmer in vegemite stock and soy, with wine, till soft (this takes ages).

IMPORTANT!!!! Be careful not to add too much stock/wine/sauce. It's a pie, not a soup.

Add tinned tomatoes. Cook a bit more.
Finally add drained lentils and tomato paste and more vegemite stock/soy/wine till it tastes goooood.

Line a greased pie dish (a big one, this is a lot of pie you're dealing with) with puff pastry. Put in oven, which you've had the foresight to preheat to 180C, for 5-10 minutes till it puffs. Take it out. Spoon in the filling and fold edges of pastry in. Lay more pastry on top, tucking down the sides of the tray. Make some cool shapes in the top. Put in oven for another 5 - 10 minutes. DON'T BURN IT!

Take it out. Get a plate. Eat the shit out of it.

Obralem Dziemnaga

Polish-Australian wonder-brothers Jacek Koman & Tomek Koman with a very special guest star in a short film promoting the upcoming Melbourne International Film Festival.

No points for recognising the guest - whose pronunciation, in Polish, of "I peeled a potato" sounds something like "I beeled a bodado" - but kudos if you can name the band for which Jacek is the front-man.

Tuna Cat

Feeling hungry?

Me too...

Bite-sized LA observations

It's my last morning in LA and the US and I'm sitting at Urth Cafe on Melrose, surrounded by Asian tourists and attractive people trying to look like they are somebody worth recognising.

My half serve of tuna salad is huge but at least the oil is a drizzle rather than a pour, and it's good.

And my coffee?
Nice coffee art in the foam. Cup is hot to the touch rather than scalding, which means that had I not asked for it extra hot it would've been brought out tepid. Slightly on the sweet side, either due to sweet soy milk or sweet beans, and slightly more bitter than I'd like. But by American standards altogether drinkable. On second sip it's actually too sweet, but whatever, I'm in LA.

There are some ridiculously overdone girls here, with ridiculously cute white Maltese terriers who look like they've never felt the bliss of mud on the paws. And a dozen tables of glamorous tourists from Hong Kong with a Luis Vuitton on the back of every chair. And girls with blondest blonde hair set in perfect salon curls clipping past in white jeans and Manolo lookalikes carrying scripts with the title page facing outwards.

A young model in trainers and no make-up just arrived accompanied by two Italian greyhounds and a man with dyed black hair who I thought was her father until she called him "honey". We strike up a conversation over restless canines and he reveals to me the tawdry secret of the dogs' relationship; Primo is Angie's father and brother, but due to their impeccable pedigree she is genetically flawless. I try to prevent my mind from straying towards the nature of Primo and Angie's owners' relationship.
They offer me a bite of their green tea tiramisu and it is phenomenal. I barely manage to resist ordering an entire slice once they leave.

There's a couple dudes at a table opposite talking through the funding plan for a new Queer-Eye-for-the-Straight-Guy-meets-dating-show and three Valley girls above me discussing whether to wear shorts or jeans out on Saturday night. The sky is perfect blue and everything is washed in sunlight and all around me people are throwing about phrases like "best-cased scenario" and "the bottom line" and I can see how a person could come to this city and never, ever leave.

One Night in New York via iPhone

I am the green bubbles.
Nick is the grey.
9pm to 1:45am.
Enjoy.

*NFT = Not For Tourists guidebook

*undertake = understand

*New York = Empire State of Mind

What it feels like when the weight comes back

I'm not yet ready to write honestly about Anorexia and the deathly, transcendence of it. But if I were, I might say something like this..

- Marya Hornbacher