Happy As Larry.

Happy As Larry.

I would’ve enjoyed writing this much more about four, nearly five hours ago. And for this reason perhaps I should start carrying my laptop around with me more regularly or leaving venues earlier or not talking to people that sap me of my creative juices when at long last they flow.

Preferences aside, I would like to write tonight about Shaun Parker’s most recent production, ‘Happy As Larry,’ of which I had the most pleasant fortune of seeing this afternoon.

I don’t care to write a review because I find reviews ghastly things.

If someone you respect tells you to go see something, go see it.

I read a dicky little review on the press wall at the Seymour Centre this afternoon which featured in The Australian January 25th. Written by a Deborah someone, it doesn’t matter much who the journalist was because increasingly I find they all sound a bit the same, in so much as the problem, as I see it, is the time they spend honing their craft, as apposed to, oh I dunno, perhaps the time Shaun Parker spent conceptualizing, crafting, writing, storyboarding, choreographing, casting, directing something like Harry As Larry is so disproportionate it makes me giggle.

Who gives a fuck what someone thinks after 70 minutes!?

I mean really.

What makes this author an authority?

She knows someone at The Australian?

She was a dancer once upon a time?

She doesn’t mind working Saturday’s?


I digress.

And as well as digressing, I’ve also set myself up a tad here.

Set myself up in that I am in no position to now write a review of what I actually thought of Happy As Larry.

Though I laughed, and I cried, and I thought the entire thing to be really quite special.

What I’d really rather do, in place of critiquing something or spoiling it for all of you is say this:

1. I think you should really, really go and see it.

And this.

2. Before doing so, learn about this:

I first learnt about the enneagram system some five or so years ago now at a dinner party in Newcastle of all places.

Intrigued by the notion of human kind being divided in to nine basic systems I did some research and discovered the following:


These one-word descriptors can be expanded into four-word sets of traits. Keep in mind that these are merely highlights and do not represent the full spectrum of each type.
Type One is principled, purposeful, self-controlled, and perfectionistic.
Type Two is demonstrative, generous, people-pleasing, and possessive.
Type Three is adaptive, excelling, driven, and image-conscious.
Type Four is expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed, and temperamental.
Type Five is perceptive, innovative, secretive, and isolated.
Type Six is engaging, responsible, anxious, and suspicious.
Type Seven is spontaneous, versatile, distractible, and scattered.
Type Eight is self-confident, decisive, willful, and confrontational.
Type Nine is receptive, reassuring, agreeable, and complacent.
These nine systems then, of course break down in to a series of much more complicated systems based on ones degree of stress or growth given their environment and the people they share it with.

The best example of this I can offer is of course, myself.

I’m a four. Un-disputably I am a four.

At surface level I am this:

Type Four is expressive, dramatic, self-absorbed, and temperamental.
But I am also this:

Fours attempt to control their shame by focusing on how unique and special their particular talents, feelings, and personal characteristics are. Fours highlight their individuality and creativity as a way of dealing with their shameful feelings, although Fours are the type most likely to succumb to feelings of inadequacy. Fours also manage their shame by cultivating a rich, romantic fantasy life in which they do not have to deal with whatever in their life seems drab or uninteresting to them.

And then this:
(I will fill this in later. Not now. Not now.)
I may rant, but what I am trying to say is this:

1. Please, please go see Shaun Parker’s new production:


Oh shoot. Apparently this afternoon was the final showing. Oh well.

2. I am not currently in a very safe writing environment. I would love to write more but I need to not be where I currently am. Both of these two points are true.

And of course, you are wondering how any of this relates to Leonard Cohen in any way.


So glad you asked.

I met a man in the foyer, you see, before this afternoons matinee. A psychologist, and a writer. We got to chatting about Shaun Parker and the Enneagram System and the discipline of the writer and so on and so forth. To be honest, in hind sight, I don’t actually think he liked me much but… he did mention– in response to my lamenting the fact that New York is no long New York and that Sydney is an expensive city to be trying to pave a creative, new path— that his dear friend Mary someone (whom after extensive online searching I cannot find the full name of) but whom wrote ‘Our Place’ and once lived on Hydra let Leonard Cohen crash on her couch for a time, when he was homeless and broke.

The end.

3 Responses to “Happy As Larry.”
  1. Nova says:

    catching up on my ‘reading’ this weekend. hmm. Type Three is me, but only according to the free sampler. hmm again. N xx

  2. Oh you’re a three? How intriguing. As is my brother. That makes a little more sense to me now that I think of it. I wonder when you will come visit me, or I you. I am actually in the land of ‘home’ as I type, though only for a few more hours– and my pockets are empty and my brother nowhere to be found… Perhaps you’d find this liberating?

    Take a day off work and come feel the fear?

    • Nova says:

      and an “unhealthy” 3 at that. or is it that i become an unhealthy 9. or both. hmm. am contemplating dusting off the cc & “buying” the full version.

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