Mothers Day & Music.

“… Heaven, must be there… I don’t want to live in this place.” 

Sex appeal: Discuss.

I spent today dining leisurely with my family at a charmed little converted theatre-cum-music venue called Lizottes, in Newcastle. The occasion was Mothers Day and the artist was Grace Knight. And it was nice.

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Now, Gracie, bless– these days, is a menopausing, Japanese fan flailing soul singer with pipes of cello and honey,whom is so well versed these days one can;t help but wonder what her story has been, and how she might go about telling it.

She did, kinda, minda. But not really.

She seems sad to me, these days, which of course means she sings better. She’s also a mother these days, which means she matters to people of the having spawned persuasion– on a day like today– spent with those whom I am related to. And whom I care for deeply. Dearly. Like, a lot.

I opted for all things vegetarian on the menu which meant my siblings poked fun, which they were always going to do, either way… Dad handed me two cigarettes and said, “Here, enjoy your quota…” Mum was surprised by my decision to drink bubbles. My brother peered over at me cautiously as her support had a good go of covering Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah,’ which to be honest, left me feeling more like I was trapped in a gay venue somewhere underground in Darlinghurst than in Leonard Cohen’s living room.

“That’s what you need to find, Ally, for your music, someone like him.”

I gulped as I tried my darndest not to stare at this big, brave poof, butchering an old classic.

I respect soul, not cabaret.

Truth be told.

I care little for a big, gay support network. Really. I just fancy a poet. And just the one.

No smoke. No mirrors. No need for a  big pink tie and a belly full of bold. I prefer grit, I suppose. Darkness. Silence. And for fuck sake turn that mid-day show synthesiser effect off on your keyboard, please. Make the keys heavy. Find a cello. Find a long black slinky dress. And trust yourself. Please, please trust yourself.

There’s is noise in the room as I type this.

And yet, mum reminds me that I type like a moth stuck frantically in a light fixture.

There is Pinot to drink and not a lot of time left now before the working week starts and I leave this city, for another… With loads left, still to say.

I want to say a great many things about today and about my family but feel that, if nothing else, what it well worth a first mention here is the fact that this weekend has actually turned out to be pretty important to me.

And for a whole gamut of reasons.

Goodness, I feel so secretive within this domain lately. As though I’ve opened right up in some other domain, leaving this one shy, somehow…

A story for another time.

A later date.

What I really want to say now is this.

Beauty blossoms and grows. Flails and finds itself taking some other kind of shape.

Most days it’s hard for me to be in my home town, as it reminds me mainly of times when things weren’t working, when things were broke–when I felt ugly.

But here’s what I’ve learned.

And this shit be gold, as much as this shit be true– 

It comes and goes.

It ebbs and flows.

And you can say whatever ever you want.

A good friend said that to me once of my family,

“Lex, it’s pretty unique… you can actually say whatever you fucking want…”

Whatever you want.

x.

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Comments
5 Responses to “Mothers Day & Music.”
  1. I thought. . just a tiny bit harsh on the Hallelujah rendition. . . . and bubbles ? ? excellent choice if you don’t fancy a beer. In any case the point of the day was to make ‘Mummy’ feel loved by all her ‘Chickens’. . . and that she did. BIG thank you for a wonderful Mother’s Day . . . ‘Golden Tonsils ‘ included.

  2. a friend says:

    Why do u write this stinking trash? nobody even reads it. No surprise!

    • I write this “stinking trash” as a means of revealing something new to my readers– about myself, about the world– and of whom, ironically, you are a part of, since you’ve left this post and all.

      Need I also remind you that this is in fact a breach of your AVO.

      One more move buster and you will be reading my blog from the safe confines of a jail cell.

      Have a nice life.

    • The Sister says:

      Oh my!

      I wonder who you are friend?

      Shit, I can’t remember the last time my friend asked me why I bothered contributing to earth. I wish they asked more often though cause it looks like it would feel AWESOME!

      V.x

  3. Greg says:

    c’mon Al…open up…let it all spew out. If you have things to say about your family then say it (only good things of course) because before you know it saying it wont mean as much because the ones you wanted to tell may not be around.

    I’m not being all melancholy nor D&M – just personal/life experience……still love you Mum, Dad & Terry.

    Pleased mother hen enjoyed having the chics back scratching around her

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