In all of our previous homes the outlook has ranged from garden and street views to brick walls and a glimpse of sky.
Since moving into a ninth floor unit (apartment / flat / condominium / suite / tenement) with windows facing north and east I have attempted to capture the aspect.
Looking out the horizon and features appear closer than shown in these images.
We feel incredibly fortunate to be here in this spot.
We moved into our north facing ninth floor apartment on a chilly dreary Monday, two days ago.
This opaque view is taken from my sofa spot, gazing over Eagle Farm, beyond Morton Bay, towards the Pacific Ocean on the horizon.
The sun’s rise silhouettes the appendages of a dracaena gifted by Clarice in the year we arrived in Australia, 1998.
Last night we saw the 2010 movie of the same name starring Cher, Christina Aguilera, Eric Dane, Cam Gogandet, Stanley Tucci, Alan Cumming, and Kristen Bell. Its rich dark moody basement club and apartment scenes evoked the feeling of bygone speakeasies, jazz clubs, and Liza Minnelli in the film Cabaret.
I was reminded of awe inspiring evenings in the back bar of the Imperial Hotel, Erskineville, Sydney in this century’s noughties and teenies. We were delighted by the performance of Mitzi Macintosh reenacting the Rocky Horror Show, The Sound of Music, and Little Shop of Horrors.
In other venues in Newtown, Kings Cross, and Darlinghurst we were wowed by the antics of Miss Effervescence (Effie to her friends), Verushka Darling, Tess Tickle, Chelsea Buns, Fahrenheit, Joyce Mange, Vanessa Wagner, Portia Turbo, Miss 3D, Simone Troy, Robyn Lee, Clair de Lune, Atlanta Georgia, Monique Kelly, and Polly Petrie.
Now that we live in Queensland we get our occasional drag queen fix at the Wickham Hotel, and Cloudland in Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley.
Emerge from Central gloom into a brash world.
Persevering down pain filled steps,
Hunched against chilly drizzle,
I am engulfed by swishing traffic
And beep beep crossing noises
To traverse Creek Street.
Epiphanic; time and raindrops slow
Gaze catches a leaf of coffee shade
Resolutely reclining in the gutter.
Dew bejewelled before dusky rose kerb
Gold, ruby, sapphire, amethyst
Shimmering in the spartan morning rays.
In minds eye, the moment lingers
While crossing over Ann Street,
During descent of Creek Street,
And left into Adelaide Street,
Ad infinitum
The image remains to this day.
Inspired by the 21st century couturier, Iris van Herpen at Queensland’s GOMA (Gallery of Modern Art), Brisbane, I present a modest collection of organic poems and images from the exhibition.
sinuous
serene
cerulean
silken
symbiotic
sirens
sway
languid lascivious
layered lame
Luddites languish
opulent
oceanic
organza
orifices
open
couture conjures
cantankerous
carnivorous
crêpe crustacea
entranced
elfin effigies
encased
entombed
encrusted
The term bathos was introduced to me during an English language lesson in the late seventies at secondary school. Never in a million years, did I anticipate living bathos last Sunday afternoon and evening.
Having enjoyed and celebrated, the most sublime live acoustic guitar music and vocals from Matt and Zane, Acoustic Guitar Bros at the Wickham Hotel, Brisbane we were catapulted into the ridiculous world of ‘Balls Out Bingo ….. Not Your Nanna’s Bingo’, hosted by Candy Surprise.
A book of games costs $15, $5 of this is donated to the Brisbane Hustlers, a gay and inclusive rugby union football club. A cheque for $4,000 was presented to them on the night.
My initial, if somewhat snobbish reaction soon evaporated as we participated in the most hilarious interactive experience we have enjoyed in decades. It included singing along, dancing, and throwing coloured lightweight plastic balls around.
Members of the Hustlers team assisted in keeping track of the bingo balls and removed articles of their kit to the bawdy hoots, whistles, and applause from the crowd.
Apart from yellow, I prefer secondary colours over the primaries. This plant brings me joy, showcasing both green and purple.
When we moved into our new house in March, it had a few velvety leaves that appeared to be being eaten, my husband sprayed it to curb the ‘pests’. Gradually, new leaves appeared, unimpeded.
Over weeks, sprays of buds appeared at the centre of each shoot. Eventually they swelled, bursting open to reveal many many daisy like blooms.
Last weekend we spent two nights in Brisbane staying at the Inchcolm Hotel.
On Saturday night we were thrilled and entertained by Bite Club: Second Serve, a collaborative performance with Australian singer songwriter, Sahara Beck and Briefs Factory, “a down-and-dirty mixture of drag, boylesque, street politics and circus skills, all delivered with a smirk and a big sloppy kiss” at the newly renovated Princess Theatre, constructed in 1888.
On Thursday, in a small meeting room at work, windows blanked out with sheets of brown paper, I stripped down to my underwear. Time for my annual check up so that my moles could be checked for abnormalities that may indicate skin cancer. This picture from the right side of my face was taken through a dermatoscope that will result in a non urgent trip to the GP.
My husband exclaimed, ‘don’t they know what amber means!’ as we encountered a second car speed through another set of traffic lights.
Another Amber Gambler*!
It was late afternoon on Monday, we were returning with a lime green, lemongrass zest fragrant candle from Dusk candle and homewares store. The advertising boasts ‘A refreshing mix of aromatic lemongrass, zingy citrus fruits and verbena for an exotic, uplifting fragrance. ‘ Close up my husband says it smells like creosote. Luckily when caught on a waft it smells devine.
This is the chosen aroma for our open house scheduled for Saturday morning from 8:45 am. Our home is officially on the market!
Fingers crossed the sale will be the green light for us to move on to the next chapter of our antipodean adventure.
*According to Wikipedia, ‘Amber Gambler is a metaphorical phrase and the title of a British public information film from the 1970s, about the dangers of speeding through traffic lights before the amber changes to red “when there is ample time to stop”, or in advance of it turning to green.
What a year this has been, what a strange mood I’m in…..
Left hand sporting chipped China Red nail polish.
It started off as an idea of red, green, red, green until I realised the six colour nail varnish kit is ‘gel’, requiring curing under a UV or LED light.
Eh bien!
The last two weeks at work have been a frenetic push to complete everything possible before starting just over a week off.
We welcomed our friends from Sydney yesterday afternoon. It is wonderful to have the opportunity to spend Christmas with them again; the last in this house.
We have settled on two options for a new home, a top floor apartment closer to the city or a detached single storey house on a modest block of land with at least a one hour commute into the office.
The new location will remain unknown until we sell this one.
My husband has been rewarded with much gratitude from the local charity shop as we ruthlessly donate, clothes, glass wear, electrical items, etc.
It is a cloudy 29oC Christmas Eve. In unison we four sit on the patio gazing at our phones while sipping an Espresso Martini to the dulcet tones of light jazz.
Merry Christmas, dear readers xxx
For a time this year, I thought, what is the point of drawing and painting when a moment can be captured in a photograph?
More recently, I decided I wanted to create, to paint but what? What is it that brings me joy? Typing this stream of thoughts, of words, I believed would help.
My ego demanded without ego. Whatever that meant.
What to include? A grand plan to capture heart, body, and soul.
Pencil sketches of a partly used up tube of watercolour paint were completed. An analogy of a point in my life. This subject did not progress even though I could see it completed in my mind’s eye.
During a mindless scrolling session in Pinterest, a portrait of a pink flamingo caught my eye. That might be it!
The first hurdle was to rouse myself to search out supplies. Packed away for four years since moving house.
Weekends passed.
My husband took control; during your birthday week, on Friday 21st October you shall paint!
On the day before, car partially reversed from the garage, we rootled through cupboards, boxes, at last: watercolour pencils, bought awhile ago in Port Douglas and an aged watercolour paper scrap, this’ll do for a sketch.
The day slipped away so fast including, the making and eating of French onion soup and sipping of French Blanc de Blancs along the way. Time disappeared while sketching, colouring, waiting, and repeating.
Magically, a pink flamingo sketch emerged.
theINFP 