Trysting Fields

Stuff I Did This Year

In a nutshell: systematically climbed the fuck out of hell. Again. (See previously: 2005; 2007; 2009.)

And it's good! Can't complain.

:)

"Friends - you know who you are; you know we're grateful." - Blur, 1993. (Seriously. If ever a year was about Who Your Real Friends Are, it was 2011.)

Similarly, those who have fucked me up and fucked me over this year most likely know who they are also, and possibly how I feel about this (hint: angry, bewildered and sad) - with the possible exception of the Rt Hon Lord Mayor of Melbourne Robert Doyle (note contact details), who I strongly suspect does not have any idea who I am.

(I also doubt he reads this blog. But since it just can't be said often enough I might as well take this opportunity to (re)state, for the record: Robert Doyle, you're a fucking cunt. You really are.)

The bulk of this year's SIDTY post I rendered in audio format at the coast a few nights ago. It goes into a bit more detail (although, to be honest, not all that much). Enjoy:

Vale 2011. Viva 2012.

Happy new year!

Occupy McFarland St Treehouse aka Sarah's Housewarming

Friday, 2nd December.

Obligatory Birthday Party Post

Saturday, 24th September.

An epic time was, needless to say, had.

The Patrick Porter award for the best present and best guest overall goes to Kirrily. The prize for the most perverse guests goes to the Keith! Party crew - comprising on this occasion Talkshow Boy, 2-SHEE, Hot God, Gezus and entourage including Ms C. C*ulter (alias unknown) - who turned up unfashionably early, immediately occupied what would normally be the dancing room and systematically set about turning it into a chillout room. WTF. (NB: And it was *great*.)

Prize for the most long-lost-but-pleasingly-now-seemingly-regained former CH party regular goes to Vicwie. Prize for the best guest who wasn't able to attend physically but who came in essence goes, as always, to Wads. Prize for the best autographed copy of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" and best Tasweigan mafia attaché goes to Doktor Midnight aka The Dan Cross Revolution. Prize for the best drug by almost universal consensus goes to nitrous oxide.

Prize for the most gobsmacking act of delusionality - not to mention the most concerted but nevertheless pathetically unsuccessful attempt to ruin a birthday party of mine in the history of the world - goes to the profoundly fucked in the head disappointing Ms G. Rouse. Prize for the most departing housemate of three years goes to Grim$ha.

Prize for the most heroically tenacious still-recovering-from-her-own-birthday-shenanigan-the-previous-night attendee and all-round best MC-Ren-would-you-please-give-your-testimony-to-the-jury-about-this-fucked-up-incident regaliousness goes to Toots.

Special award for the mouthiest ho goes, as it generally does, to Kat (see audio, below).

Extra special thanks to, y'know, everyone else. Seriously.

(Previously; previously; previously.)

Second Day Of Spring

Birthday Party

Friday 17th September.

It started out as the intended convivial quiet gathering.

Suffering some uncertainty as to whether I was being terribly rude - but hey, it was my birthday, and moreover Luke forced my hand. As in literally picked me up and carried me out the door - I abandoned said gathering temporarily to go see these people play a venue down the road with a roomful of balloons at around 11pm.

(Due to a combination of behind-scheduleness and licensing restrictions, they very nearly didn't. But in the end they beat the odds - and the law - and totally did.)

Then, with a few new guests in tow, we returned to CH an hour and a bit later to find the former quiet gathering had unexpectedly hit critical mass in our absence and was comprehensively going OFF. Omg!

The universe, in effect, threw me a bitchin surprise party.

Big thanks to everybody who conspired with the universe to make it such a happy one.

The DP I Audio Is Finally Up

Here.

All of V*cw*e's parts have been edited out - which is a shame IMHO, coz they're golden. But so it goes.

(She got kind of shitty at me about the whole thing, which was a bit upsetting. This is the first time anyone's ever gotten pissy at me over blog audio. There's an interesting post in all of this. But methinks it's a story for another time.)

In happier news: I found out on Tuesday that, against all expectations, I got into art school.

Wo0t!1! etc

Stuff I Did This Year

This year was all about recovery. It started out in the absolute pits of hell, slowly got better, and - a few ickle problems here and there aside, but whatcha gonna do - ended all up in unmitigated gnarley.

Result.

As per last year I feel more like talking about people than doings or accomplishments. Specifically, and without wanting to get too gushy, all the people who've helped me in all their various ways to remember what the whole circus is about. Really forgot for a while there. Fucken' sucked.

So couldn't have done it without yiz.

Thanks. Seriously.

• Mum, Dad & Jess.
• Ben.
• Despite - and partly because of - some serious difficulties, Liv (and co).
• Henley.
• On an obscure tip: Martha, Dolly, Magnus, Tim, my secret admirer, and the other Barn*by Ev*ns on Facebook.
• Li.
• Nada A.
• Nada Z (nb not technically a person, but we'll let it slide).
• Em & co.
• Kav. Georgie. Twyllan. Kinkel. Vicwie. Sims. Brendan. Zanella. The Major. Freedman. 2003 & co. And all the countless other people at/from my thankfully now-former work who are fucking awesome. But most especially them.
• Relatedly: motorscooting Keith! Party and associates - most especially Bourkie, and Carol. We don't really know Trajstman yet - but you may rest assured we intend to.
• Cel.
• Freakley.
• Mr Ad*m F*rd (not the poet), and Mr D. Allan.
• Grimsey.
• Gab, obvs, and associates not previously mentioned, especially Pets & Dech (+ Scott, Ewan, Chirsp etc etc etc).
• And last, but the exact opposite of least: Ms M. F. "prog081" Evans and associates, esp. Kat, Hayley, Fran & co, Ange & Chloe.

The admittedly sometimes finite limitations of my resources notwithstanding, these people can - at any time, and to whatever extent they may deem necessary and/or desirable - stand the fuck under my umbrella.

I'd also like to extend a really colossal, biblical-epic-stylez "fuck you" to one or two other individuals whose selfish, infantile cuntishness and astonishing lack of Vision (tm), conversely, reeeallly hasn't helped. Anyone. But I won't. It won't help. We can only have faith that in time they will grow the hearts, brains, spines and souls they surprisingly appear to lack.

Having A Soul: It's Good.

:)

Happy new year.

Dinner Party II

4th December.

Needless to say, went OFF.

Some awesome audio was captured. Unfortunately I forgot to save it, because I'm an idiot. But here is the obligatory formula picture of everyone in the back garden:

G & Shaisty's Housewarming

13th November.

Battle Fatigue

It's been a good winter on Planet T.

It's sure as hell ripped off the head and shat down the neck of the previous one, which nearly killed me. (No, really.) We're Learning To Do Winter, apparently. Hooray for that.

But I'm ready for it to be over now.

TIA!

UPDATE (Friday): You are not listening to me, weather.

Chez Hagakure G&T Sock Swap

With Liv.

(Previously; previously.)

B. C. E.

:)

Can't complain.

Although, y'know, in some ways it was almost too easy.

Hmm.

It's Easy To Lose Perspective Sometimes And To Imagine That One Is A Worthless Pile Of Shit

One shouldn't, though.

Coz one Is Really Good at What One Does.

And What One Does is totally Worth Doing.

Really is.

[long pause]

I like these moments.

At Last, Death In The Afternoon

You will need:

The largest bottle of La Fee Bohemian Absinth that you can reasonably afford.

A bottle of 'bubbly'.

A clean vegemite jar.

Step 1: Place a shot of absinthe in the jar.

Step 2: Fill the remainder of the jar with champagne.

Step 3: Drink, without feeling the need to entertain yourself with temperance.

Step 4: I can't remember what comes after Step 3. Or my own name.

Another success story for the Neue Sachlichkeit therapeutic method.

Kitsune

This pizza is Super Special. The people who sold it to us told us this. It must be true.

We are going to watch Withnail & I now. Yiz can all get comprehensively fucked.

That is all.

Coming soon: Death In The Afternoon.

New Trainers

I forgot to mention a fulfilled ambition:

These were purchased in a non-English speaking country and as such I was unable to apply the Bentendo methodology.

But new trainers are new trainers, in anyone's language.

In other news: Delta Goodrem is ill again, suggesting we can expect a new album soon. But will the lightning strike twice? Enquiring Mind Control (tm) aficionados want to know.

Howard Belatedly Complies With Pulat Vanstone Directive

Semi was right. Victory for the Trysting Fields campaign.

Senator Amanda Vanstone says she will take some time to consider her future, after being dropped from the federal frontbench.

Senator Vanstone, who leaves the Immigration portfolio, says she is not sure if she will see out the five remaining years of her parliamentary term.

It's unclear whether the subtext here is that she's contemplating suicide. But if so, Mandy, know that you have my full support. You fat nasty bitch from hell.

(In other news: Is it just me or is Stan Grant looking, weirdly, much much blacker than he used to?)