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i exited the lift on the fifth floor of myer, ostensibly to research the prices of certain books and CDs, but suddenly i was ensnared in a maze of festive food. the happy little christmas elves were setting up the christmas department: shelf after shelf of chocolate, and marzipan, and gingerbread, and stollen, and chocolate covered marzipan, and chocolate covered gingerbread, and marzipan stollen… after my head stopped spinning around and i regained the ability to walk, i noted that there were yet more shelves of condiments and fruit jellies, but i was already halfway to the counter with a bag of lindt christmas almonds: roasted almonds in nougat and milk chocolate, with cinnamon and coriander. (the nougat is a thin crunchy shell. the chocolate is warm and spicy. the almond, eh, it is an almond.)

the backstory is, i bought a bag of these three years ago, actually two bags, because the first one was so amazing that i had to have another in the pantry, for later. but this was the time of the pantry moths, and when i finally opened up the bag, i found that each chocolate had become luxury accommodation to at least one burrowing pantry moth worm. gah! the horror! it was late january, so christmas chocolates were no longer available, not even in the 50% off discount bin, and in fact i would not see this christmas almond variety for two more years.

so you see why i had to immediately buy some, and eat half a dozen of them while listening to CDs at the listening station. oh public headphones, how you make my ears itch!

david jones food hall made me twitch; their christmas display included a handsome white tin containing a kilogram (“1’000g”) of stollen, for just under , and a very large chocolate covered gingerbread pretzel (a comparative bargain at .95). those wacky germans! i really wanted the jar of fortnum&mason christmas spiced preserve, “extremely full of plums, redcurrants, strawberries and raspberries” — which made me think that lola had written the label copy — but then i noticed the ingredients list kicked off with cane sugar. pah. perhaps i should have made do with the long-stemmed strawberries at the fruit counter ( a kilo, and it looked like a quarter of that would be stem)

in the end, the number of christmas treats i came away with, apart from that bag of christmas almonds, was “zero”. instead i signed a credit card receipt at a record store, for new music! that isn’t yet another pearl jam bootleg! now i have discs and discs to listen to: eels, fiona apple, and in a surprising turn of events, pete murray, because i figured out that what i actually had had against him was his chin dimple.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 8 November 2005 at 11:58 pm

permalink | filed under around town, chocolate, shoping, soundtrack

dinnertime thursday i was running about the house, grabbing whatever chocolate i could find and stuffing it into my going-out handbag. in the drizzle, we walked briskly up the hill, caught a bus, realised it was the wrong bus when it stopped way (way) short of where we wanted to be, walked even quicker (downhill, thankfully) for about twenty minutes, and arrived at the wharf just as the ferry did. on the top deck, in the drizzle, looking at the twinkly city, i tore open my emergency bag of muji roasted black soybeans covered in soy chocolate. do not be alarmed — there was only the thinnest shell of soy chocolate coating the crunchy, pulsy soybeans, and i ate many of them.

before too long, in the drizzle, a pointy thing covered in fairy lights appeared on the horizon: luna park! it got bigger and grinned at us, and soon we were there.

we were there to see eels!

somehow the boy had managed to get us on the guestlist. ’tis a very useful thing to have friends of friends.

in the big top (which possessed none of the magic and flair conjured up by its name) there was a russian animation about a crocodile and a small furry bear-like creature; a girly folk singer channeling phoebe buffet; and a bar of lindt pistachio chocolate.

“chocolate at a rock concert. that’s funny,” said the boy, as he helped himself to a square.
“funny, how?”
“funnier than beer and cigarettes.”
“i don’t think that eels are so beer-and-cigarettes a band.”

and in fact there was a string quartet, a double bass, a couple of keyboards, a saw, some other stringy things, and E in a bowler hat and a sharp suit, who drank what appeared to be whisky, and smoked a cigar. there you go.

eels = so very, very good.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 23 October 2005 at 9:51 am

permalink | filed under around town, boy, chocolate, soundtrack

i have just been listening to “daisies of the galaxy” by eels, the first time in over a year. it is lovely and amazing, and i really should listen to my CDs more instead of having, like, dr phil on in the background during the day.

yesterday, i finally went back to yoga class. it has taken almost this long to get the kid to the stage where she might not have to eat for the duration of a yoga class and the walk to and fro.

there was a sense of trepidation: does nigh on seven months of no yoga render me all unpliable? could i muddle through a general class, or would i have to go back to beginners all over again?

as it turned out, joy, i could keep up with the generals, and all those months of pregnancy yoga meant that i could still squat like a chinaman during squatting pose. by the end of the class i was feeling rather good — muscles all warm and wobbly, like.

the best part about yoga is that it is just down the street from cafe banchetto, on devonshire, where some days you can get a takeaway sandwich with a large grilled mushroom in it.

there were other roasted vegetables thrown in as well, some salad greens and ricotta — see how the giant mushroom has left a fossilised imprint of itself in the creamy white. oh how it glistens!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 1 May 2005 at 1:57 pm

permalink | filed under around town, kid, lunch, soundtrack

what better way to start the week than plunder the magazine cupboard for another stack of old magazines to cast upon the steadily growing pile by the door. after a lengthy bout of procrastination, the cull finally began in earnest mid-last week.

started off with the “wallpaper”s and “the face”s, which were easier than i expected. and then a stack of those trendy, purposeless magazines out of LA or new york — easy. then the “esquire”s, which were a bit harder because there are actual articles in there that i found myself re-reading, including a trio of david sedaris stories, and a 1999 interview with osama bin ladin, and a bunch of randomness by ted from “queer eye”, like the one where he gets a fragrance made up especially for him, called “ted” . still, nothing i couldn’t add to the pile by the door.

this morning though, i have unearthed a couple boxes of ten year old “spin”s. the stacks of pulpy paper covered in grainy grungy photographs of kurt, the stories about river phoenix dying on the sidewalk, the introduction of alanis, the reviews of “pulp fiction” and “bakesale”. so now i’ve got “bakesale” on the CD player as i speedread courtney love’s lollapalooza diary and bloody hell it’s like a trip down memory lane.

a few days ago the boy was mocking “all those memories” but he has little idea of what’s tied up in these boxes of “spin”s. it’s all about the waking up in the middle of the night to pearl jam songs on the radio, the university work experience at a pop (culture) magazine, the design school major projects about rock music and junk food, the graduating and getting a job at the pop (culture) magazine, the shameless ripping off of other magazines for design tips… the design award, the gradual boredom and disillusionment with working on a magazine, the exiting the industry, the occasional yearning to be moving those slabs of words and pretty pictures around a page again…

posted by ragingyoghurt on 27 September 2004 at 10:55 am

permalink | filed under bookshelf, boy, soundtrack, werk

hmm. after a few hours of sleep, alternating left side, right side and on my back, i was awake at 3.30am, sitting up in bed with a tub of vanilla yoghurt, the “new yorker” summer fiction issue, and “rage” on in the background playing old silverchair videos, from back when they were a lowercase band.

i wasn’t lucky enough to have the first “tomorrow” video included in the programming, where the band were little puppy boys loping across the screen (or even the second “tomorrow” video where mark pellington did a convincing job imitating his own “jeremy” video), but it sure was educational to see the progression over the years… as daniel grew his cheekbones and chris grew his neck and ben — well, i guess ben just cut his hair — and more significantly, how the music evolved, because i stopped really listening to the band after the second album.

a random line over at gempires: “grunge on the jukebox. we reminisce about pearl jam.” made me think about how maybe i don’t even have to reminisce about pearl jam because i frequently have them on the CD player, even the newer albums, especially at deadline time. i’ve seen both bands a bunch of times, the most memorable of which were: silverchair at their first big day out, where they played a little stage and the crowd to see them was so inversely big that you didn’t have to stand up, you were just held up by everyone else; and being in the moshpit (twice!) at pearl jam, propped up against the security bar and looking up at eddie and feeling the voice just vibrate through me. how is it that i outgrew silverchair and not pearl jam?

watching the silverchair videos in the wee hours, it struck me that silverchair evolved in a way that pearl jam didn’t: good old dependable three-guitar + bass + drum sound (and dammit, pearl jam even did the rock cliche of revolving door drummers) versus fancy orchestration and operatic tendencies. and thus, really, it was silverchair that had outgrown me.

this drivel was brought to you by the 3.30am waking hour, the tub of vanilla yoghurt and, oh bloody hell, ok, half a bag of sweet chili pretzels.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 11 July 2004 at 9:46 am

permalink | filed under kid, snacks, soundtrack, tv

so. trying to stick to this plan of watching less crap tv (already slightly fallen off the rails by watching half of “the bachelor” two nights ago), it occurred to me that i should go to the strokes show instead.

the morning’s quest to purchase a ticket was initially unsuccessful. stepping off the bus and into the tail end of the post christmas sales, it wasn’t so long before i had two tins of half price christmas biscuits (amarettini limone and fruit-studded, chocolate-covered gingerbread, probably still costing more than biscuits should), two hats (an orange bucket hat, and a blue hat similar to the orange except with a much wider brim) and a pair of jeans (dark denim with pink stitching, i suspect they are a capri style, but on me the length is perfect!). fortunately i came to my senses and ignored my need to buy a scott joplin cd, and suddenly i had a strokes ticket.

my reservation about paying $72 to see the strokes, is that on the record, at least in terms of aesthetics and production, they seem like a $30 band, tops. and what good is a burgeoning australian dollar if the pleasing exchange rate doesn’t translate to cheaper concert tickets? still i was determined to watch less crap tv!

five minutes before the band goes on, a girl in front of me whips around, her eyes roll up and she’s on the ground. her boyfriend carries her off the dancefloor and the crowd moves in to fill the space. there are lots of short people at the show, hurrah, so five or six metres from the stage is a pretty good place to be, pointy-elbowed girls with flippy hair not withstanding. the band strut… amble on and play a clash song — “this is a clash song, by the way” — and then it’s “this song is called ‘reptilia’”, and then

du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh
du-duh. du-du-duh…

there is good-natured banter and a thought-provoking lightshow (so *that’s* where the money goes), and on-the-spot boppping on my part, and all too soon julian stroke is bargaining with the audience how many more tunes the band will play: “*ten* more? we don’t have that many songs.” so it’s three. two. one. and they’re gone in a cloud of feedback. cheering for encores? feh. they’ve milked all the adulation during the show.

am i gushing? well, yes. ROCK!

posted by ragingyoghurt on 22 January 2004 at 12:27 am

permalink | filed under around town, shoping, soundtrack, tv

last night at the gaelic club, the radio birdman xmas special ROCKED. having only ever seen grainy black and white pictures of the band in their heyday, and only ever heard two of their songs (and even then one of those songs was actually a cover by silverchair), my initial response to the guy venting incoherently into the mic was, “gee that guy sure looks like doc brown from “back to the future” goin’ off.”

subsequently, “i wonder how old a person can get before it looks odd for him to be wearing those spray-on faded black jeans.”

and then, “that’s so cool someone could be so bald up top and still feel it’s appropriate to grow the rest of it out to that straggly length. rock!”

however these ruminations soon dissipated, because it’s all about the music, man. old people’s music? whatever.

if you like to go out at night for music or beers or whatever, and return with your throat not scratchy and sore, your eyes not stingy and red, your hair still fresh from that pre-going-out shampoo, and wearing clothes that you’ll be able to wear the next day without choking on stale cigarette odours, you could go smoke free.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 12 December 2003 at 11:24 am

permalink | filed under around town, soundtrack

feeling somewhat inspired by last night’s spur-of-the-moment “school of rock” excursion, my afternoon stroll to buy tickets for the radio birdman show evolved into a modest, gingerbread latte-fueled shoping spree that yielded the following minifest of rock: a pearl jam “lost dogs” cd, a jet “get born” cd, a bumper billy bragg best-of cd, and, um, the cd single of “hey ya” by outkast… evidently young urban black people are writing music which doesn’t suck. could it be that i am even considering that black eyed peas cd? um. i’ll get back to you.

the shiny tinsel on my tree of rock is this amusing pair of earrings from sportsgirl. look, there is black gothic type spelling out “rock”. a skull and crossbones. two dangly chains at the end of which are a heart and a star. all on the one earring! there is a price tag which says $14.95 reduced to $4.95, which in turn was reduced at the register to $3.95. having threaded it through my long-unadorned earlobe not fifteen minutes ago, i’m now feeling the first allergic reactions of warmth and itchiness around the piercing. it couldn’t possibly be more punkrock, yeah!

today’s purchases were made possible by the divine miss m, lady captain of the good ship artfiles, who turned around my invoice quicksmart, and suddenly my bank account had grown by like, 40%.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 28 November 2003 at 6:43 pm

permalink | filed under around town, shoping, soundtrack

a weekend so packed with punch it took me a week to sufficiently recover to construct this new toy. friday: pearl jam at the sydney entertainment centre. it’s been five years since i last saw them, and leading up to the night doubt clouded my mind… was i too old to be this excited about a rock show? would my seats be crap? and other stuff.

all partly unfounded. in the belly of the entertainment center, pearl jam went off.

the staff don’t quite frisk you as you go in, but they did make me empty out my indie rock, strawberry print handbag made for me by one fiona cleverly at work, because y’know, i look like such a terrorist.

speaking of which, the rally at hyde park on sunday was somewhat bigger than i thought it would be. so crowded in fact, that when everyone moved off the park to march the streets, the volume of bodies immediately filled the entire route, causing a gridlock standstill for, like, hours it seemed. half a million people rallied across australia, all of whom have now been condemned as unaustralian supportors of saddam hussein by mr howard. onya!

this year… where will we go?

posted by ragingyoghurt on 21 February 2003 at 8:20 am

permalink | filed under around town, soundtrack

Goodbye sweet youth,
gurgling down the drain

Yesterday I turned 30. Given the liberties I’ve taken with the word “weekly”, you may be reading this a year later when I’m actually 31, but right now it’s 14 November 2002.

My mother came over from Singapore to buy me presents: a new vacuum cleaner, a new spongey mop, and a new square bucket that the mop fits neatly into. Also, several bottles of cleaning products, all boasting ways to make cleaning easier. Thanks mum!

The point is, no cleaning would be easiest of all. Couldn’t she just have given me a self-cleaning house? I know they exist – I saw one on tv.

I made a birthday rhubarb-pear-apple crumble for breakfast, and bought myself a bunch of lotus flowers at the growers market. The sweet smell of them reminds me of the cute Japanese-made erasers I had as a child.

I got my passport extended for another three years, while I decide if it’s better to be a Malaysian (“civilised” nations look upon you with suspicion because you might be a Muslim terrorist) or an Australian (Muslim extremists want to kill you because you support George Bush II in the war against them).

sigh.

I bought the new Pearl Jam album. How could it be 11 years since I found them?

I ran away from XXXXXXX XXXX XXXXXXXX XXXXXX that was exactly the same as last year, and was another thing that reminds me I’m in exactly the same place I was exactly a year ago.

At the end of the day, my answering machine had been sung Happy Birthday to five times. Thanks friendly voices! I feel much better!

- – -
before i had a “blog”, i used to write a sporadically updated letter on the front page of my website. this is one of them. i am consolidating it into these archives, because i can.

posted by ragingyoghurt on 15 November 2002 at 9:10 am

permalink | filed under around town, cake, drawn, soundtrack

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