Wednesday, September 29, 2004

a diary 2

“Rents due Tuesday – Tiger”

It wasn’t the first time she’d called me Tiger. Last time I couldn’t pay the rent on time she eked the equivalent out of my white-belly thin-legged unbuffed flesh. Not that it was an altogether unpleasant experience or even un-anticipated on my part, but the residual worm of guilt and minor flush of a shame kept me paying interest on the loan emotionally for weeks afterwards.

I’d been down before but never really out. I’d been up before but never really in.

The election announcement revived memories of better times. Of wine in bottles not cardboard boxes. Of meals in cafes on white tablecloths.

My cotton trousers, shirt and jacket didn’t cost any more from Target than trackies and give me an air of respectability, at least in my mind, that sets me apart from the mob in this place.

I grabbed my mug from the dresser, stuck the mail under my arm, filled up from the urn and dropped in two tea bags. Out in the louvered in back veranda a few of the residents were smoking, studying the form guide and drinking beverages with no alcohol.

The window envelopes I shoved in my jacket pocket for later. All of the phone messages were scribbled on the back of one envelope. The not yet ex wife had rung to “catch up. nothing urgent”. In my morning fug I couldn’t dredge up an emotional response to her message. I stuffed it to one side in my mind knowing I would easily find it to make myself feel bad later.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies

Hipsters, flipsters and finger-poppin' daddies,
Knock me your lobes!
I came here to lay Caesar out,
Not to hip you to him.
The bad jazz that a cat blows
Wails long after he's cut out,
The groovy is often stashed with their frames.
So don't put Caesar down...."
What a gas! Willie the Shake flipping wigs once again in this wild, crazy, "hipsemantic" translation of Marc Antony's funeral oration. And what sweet, swingin' stud laid this beautiful jazz down? None other than Lord Richard Buckley - a far out, wailin', nonstop, groovy gasser who stomped virtually unknown through the pages of history. He was known to ridicule an unhip audience, and was not adverse to doing his act with a joint dangling from his lips.
The story of Christ, otherwise known as "The Nazz":

"...and I dig all you cats out there whippin' and whalin' and jumpin' up and down and suckin' up that fine juice, and pattin' each other on the back and tellin' each other who the greatest cat in the woild is. Mr. Malenkoff, Mr. Dalenkoff, Mr. Eisenhower, Woozinweezin, Weisenwoozer, and Mr. Woodhill and Mr. Beechhill and Mr. Churchhill and all them Hills, they gonna get it straight. If they can't straighten it they know a cat that knows a cat that's gonna get it straight. Well, I'm gonna put a cat on you was the sweetest, gonist, wailinest cat that ever stomped on this sweet swingin' sphere. And they call this here cat...the Nazz, that was the cat's name. He was a carpenter kitty. Now the Nazz was the kind of a cat that come on so wild, and so sweet, and so strong and so with it, that when he laid it -WHAM - it stayed there..."

Lord Buckley left behind a substantial, if generally unknown, legacy. Honey Bruce in her autobiography says, "Lenny did vocal impressions of famous stars, but I believe he learned he could use his voice to create many comedy characters from his experiences with Lord Buckley. With Lenny's talents there was no problem coming up with the voices, but it was the dear Lord Buckley who did it first."

Larry Storch, Jonathan Winters, Whoopi Goldberg, and Robin Williams have acknowledged their debt to him. Henry Miller, Greer Garson, and Charlie Parker were some of his admirers. Frank Sinatra was his friend, until His Lordship supposedly marched sixteen naked people through the lobby of the Royal Hawaiian Hotel where Sinatra was performing.

George Harrison's 1977 hit song "Crackerbox Palace" was indeed named after Buckley's tiny Hollywood dwelling. The Mr. Greif referred to in the song was once Buckley's manager, and "...the Lord is well inside of you..." refers to the earthly, not the heavenly, divinity. Jimmy Buffett has recorded and performed an original Buckley number called "God's Own Drunk."

Bob Dylan fell in love with "Black Cross," the story of a black man who is lynched for his supposed lack of religious beliefs. Written by a Cleveland poet named Joseph Newman, it was one of the few works Buckley recited in its original form. Dylan performed "Black Cross" in concert and two bootleg recordings from 1961 and 1962 do exist. If you look closely at the cover of Dylan's album, Bringing It All Back Home, you will see a copy of Buckley's album, The Best of Lord Buckley (Crestview), on the mantle over the fireplace. And Frank Zappa edited His Lordship's LP, a most immaculately hip aristocrat, when he was sixteen years old.

Monday, September 20, 2004

flat foot floozie flim flam floogle

A Personal MacVouty Memory - Jim Calvagna

As to Slim what can I say.

It was back in 1952 I was taking a date to Birdland. Usually when I went there I sat in the bleachers over by the bar where there were no tables etc. (i.e. the low rent district ) which Slim affectionately called Wino Junction. Since I had a date, I had to show off and sit at one of the tables on the expensive side (there was a $3.00 minimum per person).

As we came in Slim was playing, when he spotted us he played the first few notes of "Here comes the bride'" and nodded his head yes. I shook my head no. This was repeated several times.

When the tune finished, Slim announced:

" We would like to dedicate this next number to our newlyweds here spending their honeymoon at Birdland. What a drag! If that was me I'd go somewhere and lock the vouty and throw the reeney away."

A few years later we were married, we still are, but we will always remember Slim's dedication.

A few days later I was walking up Broadway and here came Slim the other way.

As he neared me I said:"Mac Vouty!!"

Without missing a beat he responded: "O rissimo reeny!"

FX says: How hip can a cat get?

Saturday, September 04, 2004

a diary

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morning air.

It was a day like any other day in the boarding house.

It was the week that was starting to be different.

The clock radio scratched awake half statically untuned to the government station and the news from the un sovieted about another hundred or so deaths. Even as I rolled over and punched the off button I knew that the announcement of the vote a week ago had changed my life forever.

It was 20 past 10 am and cold as a black heart abbott. The mist had penetrated the thin plywood walls of the shelter and seeped its way into the bones and blood of all the residents. Not that we thought of ourselves as joined together by anything except our ambivalence toward mutual obligato and a sullen resistance to the resentful non judgemental assistance of our shared case managers.

The landlady opened the door and shuffled in with a bunch of messages and mail. Only after she was sure I was awake and not going to be another reportable death did she deign to tap on the door with her chipped bright faded red glued on nails.

“There’s been a bloody lot of phone calls for you in the last few days “ She weezed.

“I’m not your friggin' message girl y’know”

The bundle of paper and offcuts that indicated somebody still remembered me landed on the floor with a feint almost thump.

“Rents due Tuesday – Tiger”

Thursday, September 02, 2004

mark (latham) of the beast

"And he {Antichrist} causes all, both small {small rodents} and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or upon their foreheads, "and that no one may buy or sell except the one who has the mark or the name of the Beast or the number of his name. "Here is wisdom. Let he who has understanding calculate the number of the Beast; for his number is that of a man and his number is 666.

The campaign period is 6 weeks.
The election will be held on the 6th day of the week.
Voting closes at 6 o'clock.
I have a 6th sense about The Rodent.

666 plus 6


References: Here and here and here

Wednesday, September 01, 2004

rodent fanciers object to slur

The Queensland branch of the Australian Rodent Fanciers Society has objected to the bad name given rodents by association with lying or by association with John Howard.

The AusRFS is very proud to welcome rat and mouse lovers from all over Australia. Queensland Members of the club may in the future be able to use services provided by other members such as pet sitting, nail clipping, de-lousing and information hotlines.
Rat/Mouse Information Hotline - Email Tracey at for answers to general questions about rats.

The Australian Mouse and Rat Information Service.
The aims of The Rodent Report is to:
Show people, young and old, just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are.

I have just subscribed Pete Costello to the Rodent Report so he can discover 'just how enjoyable these smaller companion animals are'.

These 2 rodents below, Boris and Geralton, are up for adoption in Canberra. The hernia and "This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show" makes me think Boris is really JWH. Geralton "He's just a little rough when playing with others" has to be Abbott.

Boris - Fawn Self boy - Canberra
This fawn self boy has a small hernia, and is very good and cuddly by himself, but just too rough with others. He is approx 12 months old. For more details, contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.

Geralton - Agouti Hood boy - Canberra.
This agouti hood is the perfect cuddly pet. He's just a little rough when playing with others.. He is approx 12 months old and for more details, you can contact Linda. This boy will be travelling to Sydney for the March Show.